by Nancy Skopin
After locking the office I ambled down to my boat, stripped off my new clothes, and collapsed. As an afterthought, I set my alarm for 5:00 p.m.
Chapter 18
In my nightmare Maggie and I were making out in the windowless chauffeur’s quarters of the Los Altos house. There was no color in the dream. Everything was in black, white, or shades of gray. When Maggie rolled away from me on the bed I reached for my purse and the Ruger, but they weren’t where I’d left them. She rolled back toward me with the scissor-knife thing in her hand, already raising the weapon. I woke up gasping and flailing at an unseen attacker. The Dream Machine on my headboard whirred and acoustic guitar music began playing softly. I shut it off with a trembling hand. It was 5:00 p.m., and I was having dinner with Jack and Elizabeth at 6:00.
“Shit,” I whispered.
I put on shorts, a tee shirt, and my boat shoes, stuffed a towel into my shower bag, and trudged up to the marina facilities, which are a hundred and twenty-five yards from my slip. It’s a bit of a walk, but the water pressure onboard my boat leaves something to be desired and after that horrific dream, I felt like I needed a thorough cleansing. I stopped along the way to visit with D’Artagnon. As I stroked his ears I wondered why people couldn’t be more like dogs, loyal, trusting, and forgiving.
After my shower I felt better, although the shadow of the dream was still with me. I dressed in the same outfit I’d worn earlier, scrunched some gel into my damp hair, and put on fresh mascara and lip gloss.
I met Elizabeth at her boat and we walked up to the office together. It was 5:50. I sat down at my desk and stuffed the report and the invoice I’d printed for Jack into an envelope. The glossy photo of the Hillsborough house caught my eye and I picked it up.
“I wish I could afford to buy it,” Elizabeth said wistfully, looking over my shoulder. “Isn’t it just dreamy?”
Elizabeth was wearing a floral print dress that showed off her figure while remaining virtuous in its overall effect. Her strawberry blonde hair was worn down and she’d done something with a curling iron to make it look wavy.
“It really is,” I said.
“What are you two looking at?”
Elizabeth and I spun toward the voice, startled. Jack stood halfway between the doorway and my desk. He’d entered the office and closed the door behind him, never making a sound. I hadn’t even felt a change in the air pressure. How the hell did he do that? I handed him the picture of the estate.
“This is the place we looked at today.”
Jack took the photo and removed his sunglasses. I watched Elizabeth take in his eyes. There was something undeniably feline about this guy. Elizabeth glanced at his features briefly, then moved in beside him to get a better look at the picture and to insinuate herself into his space.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” she sighed. “You should see the kitchen. Oh, and there’s a tree fort in the backyard.”
Jack allowed his gaze to drift from the picture to Elizabeth. A slow, deliberate grin spread across his face. Elizabeth saw the look, blushed, and took a step back.
“It’s lovely,” said Jack, still looking at Elizabeth.
I cleared my throat so they wouldn’t forget I was there. “Dinner?”
After a moment’s hesitation, they both turned to look at me.
“Right,” said Jack, handing back the photo of the house. “Our reservations are for six-thirty.”
I gave him the envelope containing the report and the invoice, and he glanced inside. He removed the expense sheet, reached into his pocket, and brought out his money clip. He peeled off several hundred-dollar bills, causing Elizabeth’s eyes to widen slightly, and placed the money on my desk. I counted it, wrote out a receipt, and stuffed the cash in my wallet.
“Thank you,” I said.
We locked up the office and walked out to the parking lot together. I was anxious to memorize the plates on Jack’s vehicle. Imagine my surprise when he pointed his key fob at a brand new BMW 7 Series. It was black and shiny and still had the dealership logo instead of license plates. I gave him a look.
“What?” Jack said, feigning innocence.
“You are smooth,” I said. “I’ll give you that.”
“Wow,” Elizabeth exclaimed.
Jack opened the rear passenger door and I climbed inside. I assumed they would prefer to be alone in the front seat so they could explore the chemistry that was flowing unrestrained between them.
Chapter 19
Maggie savored the feeling of urgency as she planned her seduction of Nicoli Sinclair. She imagined touching and being touched by Nicoli. There was a connection between them. She was certain of it. She’d seen it in Nicoli’s eyes and she’d felt it when they shook hands. Maggie considered waiting until escrow closed on the Hillsborough property, giving them a reason to celebrate, but that could take weeks, even months, and she couldn’t wait that long. It would be enough if she got Nicoli a good price.
Maggie knew she was breaking her first rule of conquest: never soil your own nest. Not to mention her second rule: never allowing her identity to be known in association with one of her lovers. But she urgently needed gratification now, and Nicoli was intensely sexual. The added danger would make it more exciting, she thought, and this woman might even challenge her. She had yet to think of a way to finesse an invitation to Nicoli’s condo. If she couldn’t manage that, she’d also be breaking rule number three. She knew inadequate planning would increase the risk, but just this once she would indulge herself. Nicoli would be worth it.
She called the attorney who was handling the sale of the estate and offered seven million nine. He said he would communicate the offer to the owners and call her back.
Chapter 20
During the short drive to Palo Alto I listened to Jack questioning Elizabeth about her career and what it was like to live aboard a yacht. Her responses were animated and her personality captivating as always, but now I was seeing her through Jack’s eyes. It felt a little voyeuristic, observing this mating ritual from the back seat.
During a lull in the conversation, Elizabeth said, “What do you do for a living, Jack?”
There was a brief pause before he said, “I’m in acquisitions.”
Of course Elizabeth had already figured out what Jack did for a living, but she enjoyed the game.
“Anything specific?” she asked.
Jack glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Commodities,” he said.
We parked in a public lot on Emerson and walked the rest of the way to Toscana’s. Jack held the restaurant door open for Elizabeth and me, then stepped inside behind us. The host, a diminutive man of obvious Italian descent, greeted Jack warmly and escorted us to a table in a small private room. Jack held Elizabeth’s chair for her while the host seated me and placed napkins on our laps, rattling off the evening’s specials. When he had finished he took our drink orders and bowed slightly before departing.
“So,” Jack said, “what happened today?”
I buttered a slice of French bread. “Elizabeth and I pretended to be lovers,” I said, taking a bite. The bread was still warm from the oven and the butter was chilled. I moaned as it melted in my mouth.
Jack turned to Elizabeth. “Maybe you can fill me in.”
Elizabeth laughed. “She hasn’t eaten all day. We toured the house in Hillsborough. When we got to the master bedroom we held hands and kissed, for Maggie’s benefit of course. You really should see this estate, Jack. It’s amazing. The people who built the house passed away ten years ago and their children have just recently decided to sell. It’s maintained by the most adorable old German couple. The wife cooks and cleans and the husband takes care of the landscaping. Maggie’s going to offer seven million nine. She said she’d probably have an answer by tomorrow afternoon.”
A lovely dark-haired cocktail
waitress arrived with our drinks. She looked intently at Jack as she served us, but his attention to Elizabeth did not waver. He sipped his Irish whiskey, she sipped her wine, and I ate half a loaf of sourdough French bread. I’d pay for it at the gym tomorrow.
By the time the waiter arrived to take our orders I had memorized the menu.
“I’ll have the Caesar salad and the chicken Parmesan,” I mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
Elizabeth ordered the linguine with clam sauce and the house salad, and Jack ordered the sole. The waiter collected our menus and asked if we wanted wine with dinner. Jack glanced at the wine list and ordered a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
The salads arrived just as I was finishing off the bread. The waiter smiled as he collected the empty basket, and returned moments later with a full one. There was little conversation while we ate, but Jack and Elizabeth frequently stole furtive glances at each other and the sexual tension was palpable.
After dinner Jack shifted back to business.
“What will you do now?” he asked.
“Dinner was great,” I said. “Thank you. I’m hoping Maggie takes the bait and attempts to seduce me and cut my throat on camera. That’s the plan anyway.”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Are you out of your mind?” His voice was quiet and controlled, but he looked alarmed.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “what you’re proposing is suicide. I won’t allow it.”
I looked at Elizabeth. “Did the testosterone level in here just spike, or is it me?” I turned to Jack. “I know you’re the client, but I don’t take orders from my clients. That’s why I’m self-employed. You asked me to find a way to stop this woman and that’s what I’m doing. It’s the only way I can think of, apart from following her everywhere she goes until she kills again. You have the option of firing me if you don’t like the way I’m handling the investigation, but I’m not going to walk away from this no matter what you do.” I placed my napkin on the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I got up and walked away, leaving Jack and Elizabeth in stunned silence. When I came back from the restroom Jack was holding Elizabeth’s hand in both of his and her face was flushed. He looked over at me as I sat down.
“There’s only one way I’ll permit you to take this kind of risk,” he said. “I’ll be there when it happens. I assume you’ll be carrying a gun, but that’s still no guarantee.”
“And how will you know when to intrude?” I asked. “Are you planning to watch?”
“Of course. How else will I know if you’re in danger?”
“Out of the question. I may be able to pretend the camera isn’t there, but no way can I pretend you’re not hiding in the closet or wherever. Thanks for offering, but no.”
“Nikki, be reasonable,” he softened his tone, perhaps hoping I would respond to his considerable charm.
“I’m not known for being reasonable, Jack. I can take care of myself. Besides, my friend the police detective will be nearby. Maybe he’ll even lend me a pair of handcuffs so I don’t have to try to wrestle Maggie into flexi-cuffs or hold her at gunpoint until reinforcements arrive. But you are not going to be there.”
“If anything happens to you…”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I interrupted, holding up my hand like a stop sign. “Can we change the subject, please?”
He stared at me for a long moment and then motioned for the check. The waiter appeared and placed a leather folder on the table at Jack’s elbow.
We were all silent during the drive back to the marina. I had spoiled a lovely evening. I felt bad about that, but I knew in my heart that I was right. This was the only way to catch Maggie before she killed again.
Jack parked in the fire lane near our gate. I thanked him for dinner and said I’d page him when I heard from Maggie tomorrow. I left the two of them alone to say goodnight. Elizabeth would give me all the details later anyway.
I strolled down the companionway, thinking about Jack and Elizabeth hooking up. I liked Jack. He was fascinating and charismatic, and he was certainly attractive, but he made his living stealing other people’s property and I was uncomfortable with that. Maybe on the surface it was glamorous, but burglary always causes someone pain. Because of my own checkered past I’m unwilling to cast the first stone, but I still have an opinion.
I wondered if Elizabeth had considered this aspect of his persona, or if she was on autopilot, responding to the hormonal charge between them. Maybe she thought the love of a good woman would turn him around. Of course, the fact that they were attracted to each other didn’t mean they were getting married and starting a family. My mind instantly conjured up an image of red-haired, feline-eyed, elfin children and I smiled in spite of myself.
On board my boat I changed into a sleeveless cotton nightshirt, called Bill and left a voice-mail message saying I was home, then turned on the evening news. Aside from the weather, nothing good was being reported.
Bill called me back at 9:00 and complained some more about my lack of common sense. After a futile attempt to convince him I was a rational adult capable of making my own decisions, we hung up. I switched off the TV and climbed into bed.
Chapter 21
Thursday morning I drove to the bank and deposited most of the cash Jack had given me the night before.
At the office I reviewed my bar and restaurant survey schedule for my regular clients. I needed a few days off from the Sectio case to observe bartenders and food servers. The owner of Michelino’s in San Mateo wanted me to count how many cocktails one of the bartenders drank during his shift. The owner didn’t mind that he was drinking. He just wanted to know how much.
Restaurant and bar surveys are generally tedious work, but on occasion they lead to something more exciting. One night I was surveying a huge country western club in San Jose when I stumbled onto a sideline some of the bartenders had established. I had finished six of the ten cocktail stations, and was taking a much-needed potty break before going to station number seven, when two young women came into the restroom and entered the stall two down from mine. From the snorting sounds, I concluded that this was probably not a romantic liaison. I sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating what to do, and decided I had nothing to lose.
When they came out of their stall I was standing at the mirror applying lip gloss and smiling. They froze when they saw me. Apparently they had assumed they were alone. Neither of them could have been much over twenty-one. Both were slender, wearing jeans, tank tops, and high-heeled cowboy boots. One was blonde and the other a brunette with a dark complexion and a diamond stud in her nose.
I asked them if they knew where I could score. After a brief hesitation, the blonde said I should ask the doorman or the bartender at station nine. I thanked them and finished putting on my lip gloss. We all left the bathroom together. Station nine was right next to the restroom we’d been sharing. I pointed discreetly to one of the bartenders and the blonde nodded.
With very little effort I was able to purchase a dime bag of crank from the bartender. He slipped it to me in a folded cocktail napkin. I made a similar purchase from the doorman. I remember thinking it shouldn’t be this easy.
When I had completed my surveys of the remaining bars and cocktail stations I drove to the office and whipped out an eleven-page report, which I emailed to the owner, calling to confirm that he had received it.
As is often the case, he chose not to press charges. What we did instead was interview the two employees I had the goods on and convince them that if they would rat out their co-conspirators, we would simply fire the lot of them and no one would have to go to jail.
It worked out nicely, although after terminating eight employees the club had to close for almost a week while new bartenders, cocktail wait
resses, and a doorman were prescreened, hired, and trained. I was brought in to help with the background checks and interviews in order to avoid a recurrence of the problem.
I’m not especially interested in busting people because they break the law. I’m motivated by my personal interpretation of justice. These drug-dealing employees were jeopardizing my client’s right to run a successful business. If the police had found out what was going on there would have been a full-scale investigation, shutting down the club for months, maybe permanently. That’s not okay with me. People have the right to choose their own path in life, but if their choices interfere with the well-being of one of my clients, then I have the right to stop them.
I called Michelino’s to confirm that the bartender I was supposed to watch would be on duty, and then I called Elizabeth to see if she wanted to come along. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi, sweetie. What’s up?” she asked, sounding even more cheerful than usual.
“I have to go to San Mateo tonight and watch a bartender for a couple of hours. Then I’m planning to squeeze in a couple of dinner surveys. I was wondering if you’d like to come along. Everything’s on the client, as usual.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I have a date.”
“With Jack?” I felt my stomach clench.
“Of course, with Jack.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Well, if you get bored with each other’s company, I’ll be at Michelino’s pretending not to watch one of the bartenders until around 8:00.”
