Impulse Spy (Sonic Sleuths Series)

by Carrie Ann Knox

  “So he’s sending you straight to the top? That sounds like a pretty good gig.”

  “Nah. Have to start at the bottom.” His voice became mocking. “Just like everybody else.”

  “I take it you don’t know much about investments, then?”

  “Know it’s a total snooze. But the money’s off the hook. And about to get really ridiculous.”

  Sloan returned a playful skepticism. “Why, because you’re getting into the game?”

  “No, because there’s a deal in play. Top secret.”

  “I’m intrigued. Do tell.”

  There was a brief pause that I interpreted as hesitation. I held my breath, hoping he would reveal something that was, in fact, intriguing.

  Finally he spoke. “Let’s just say—if this goes through, we won’t be doing investments the hard way anymore. We’ll finally be able to compete with the big dogs.”

  “Sounds impressive. But you’re only making me more interested.” Sloan’s voice was quiet but emphatic. “You have to tell me the secret.”

  Another hesitation. Clearly Blaine was fighting his need to protect his future company with his desire to impress Sloan.

  Sloan won.

  “Seriously, this can’t get out. I’m not even supposed to know about it.”

  “Our little secret,” Sloan replied coyly.

  “Okay, fine. We’re about to get some kind of advantage. All I know is a crap-ton of money can be made by being faster than the other guys. And soon we’ll be one of the fastest. Maybe the fastest.”

  So much for a revelation. All we’ve turned up so far is a rehash of everything we had already figured out.

  “Wow, that sounds complicated, and sexy.” Sloan’s voice dripped with faked admiration. “I guess you’re getting into the game just in time, then.”

  “Yeah, exactly. As long as everything goes through.” Blaine’s voice fell a little, his bravado slipping. “But it’s not a done deal yet. For some reason my lame uncle is holding everything up.”

  My ears pricked up, suddenly riveted.

  Sloan played it cool. “Your uncle, the co-president? Why would he do that?”

  “Who knows. Afraid of being successful? He always was a wimp. All I know is he says he’s gonna block the deal. As if he wouldn’t get massively rich from it like the rest of us. Hang on a sec.”

  The conversation went dead for a moment, and I assumed Blaine needed to serve customers out of their vicinity. As we approached dinner time, the bar would only get more crowded and our ability to extract information would disappear. Our time was limited.

  Blaine’s voice reappeared. “Ok, sorry. Need another drink?”

  “No thanks,” Sloan replied. “So what’s this titan-of-industry dad of yours like? You want to be just like him?”

  “God no. We couldn’t be more different. But he’s rich, I definitely admire that.”

  Sloan laughed.

  “Actually, you could meet him,” Blaine continued. “He’s supposed to be coming here for dinner tonight.”

  I froze.

  “No way. He’s coming here now?”

  “Probably be here soon. He likes to come show his support for my choices by treating me like the rest of his help.”

  I didn’t hear what was said after that, as my adrenaline spiked through the roof. We can’t let Richard see her talking to his son. We were out of time.

  I rushed to the cutout windows in the alcove and peeked out. The bar area looked clear. I turned and peered into the restaurant out front. Nothing again. I watched for a moment, thinking, as I tried to get my breathing under control. Until the front door swung open and Richard waltzed in.

  He’ll figure out Sloan is investigating him. The suspicion of a possible hit-for-hire user was the last thing we needed. I had to get her out of there. But I didn’t know how to do it fast enough without arousing suspicion of a different sort.

  Richard stepped to the side of the entry with his phone, finishing a conversation. That’ll buy us a little time.

  Suddenly I had an idea. A bizarre idea I wouldn’t have even considered only a week ago. Without stopping to think it through, I gave myself a quick check in the mirror and hurried around the corner into the bar.

  Fifteen

  Blaine was leaning across the bar again. He shifted back subtly when he spotted me heading toward them. “Hey, isn’t that your friend?”

  Sloan swiveled around on her barstool just as I approached. Her gaze met mine inquisitively.

  Before she could speak, I reached to grab the back of her head and swooped in, my lips pressing brusquely against hers in one swift movement. She tensed in surprise momentarily but quickly recovered, softening as our lips touched. Her mouth was softer than I was used to. Gentler. The din of the bar quieted a little as our show was observed.

  I pulled away slowly, locking eyes with Sloan and putting on my most confident face. “Hi,” I said flirtatiously.

  “Hi yourself.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

  I looked over at her now-gaping companion.

  “Whoa, sorry,” Blaine said, looking back and forth between us. He held up his hands in surrender. “I had no idea.”

  “No problem.” I turned back to Sloan. “We should go. Now.”

  “Sure.” She hopped from her stool and looked back at Blaine with a smug smile. “Good to see you.”

  He raised a beer in salute as we strode away, hand-in-hand. He was still watching when I led Sloan through the back door and out of the path of Richard. The perplexed look on his face was worth the entire scene.

  We were practically running by the time we got to the car. We threw ourselves into the seats and she turned to me, eyes bright.

  “What the hell was that!”

  We found refuge in the parking lot down the street. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I parked next to Sloan’s car and turned to face her. She was staring at me, impatient. We both instantly burst out laughing.

  “Seriously,” she began. “What was that about?”

  “Richard was about to come in and catch you talking to Blaine. I had to get you out of there quickly or he would figure things out.”

  “So you decided to play the lover card? What made you think of that?”

  “It was your idea.” I felt my face turning red as the scene replayed in my head. “You said once that playing the girlfriend could make for an easy exit. I’d say you were right.”

  Sloan seemed to think back to the conversation. “Well, you were brilliant, coming up with that on the spot. I think you’re a natural at this.”

  I did feel pretty proud of myself. “Thanks.”

  She gave me a devious grin. “And not a bad kisser, either.”

  My face flamed to max this time. I flashed her a mock-haughty look. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  Sloan gave a faux-shocked face in return, leading to another laughing fit from both of us.

  I finally cleared my throat, trying to get back on track. “Well it was worth it, because we now know at least one lie the client has told. Richard said his brother was the one pushing for a deal, and that’s why he wanted him checked out, right?”

  “Exactly. That’s the reason he gave for hiring me. To make sure Walter didn’t have any ulterior motives. Now that we know Walter is actually the holdout on the deal, I’m wondering if Richard is really the one with the hidden agenda. And he just needed a plausible excuse to have me investigate Walter. Maybe he actually wants to catch him in the act.”

  “But why? Walter seems like a stand-up guy, and so far shows no signs of any affair.”

  Sloan looked just as confused. “I don’t know. But we’re going to need to keep an eye on both of them. Richard is looking for something. And now I’m just as interested in the why as the what.”

  As if our discoveries of lies and secret motives weren’t enough complication in my life, I got hit with a double whammy at work the next day. Because my relatively peaceful existence at the office
turned into the Hunger Games by comparison. I thought the subtle derisive comments of my colleague peppered throughout the day were enough. I wasn’t prepared for the coming onslaught.

  “Okay, gather round,” my boss announced as she burst into our little room at lunch. It was always just the two of us in there, so it wasn’t much of a circle. We gave her our rapt attention.

  “I have an important announcement. As you know, we sometimes take on fourth-year students following graduation. This year, we hope to do the same—but we will only have room for one. So if you’re interested in the position, you’ll have the chance to compete.”

  This place would be my dream job. Landing a position like this straight out of school would help set up the rest of my career. My ears perked up further as she continued.

  “We know how you perform on the job, and I’m happy to say that so far we are pleased with both of you. So we’re going to have you compete via presentation. Two weeks from today, each of you will present your dissertation projects to the rest of the faculty. We’re looking to see your knowledge, poise, and overall professionalism. We’ll review your performance and determine if we will be making an offer to one of you.”

  That didn’t sound too bad. A fair appraisal of our work and research. Although it could possibly put a crimp in my sleuthing hobby, just as things were heating up.

  Before I could finish processing, Grant jumped in. “Well, seeing as Quinn’s my senior, and she was here before I was, I think I’ll have a little trouble competing.” He made a show of placing a hand to his chest, in an I’m-so-moved gesture. His puckered lips added an extra touch. “I respect and admire her and would never want to take anything that belongs to her.”

  Respect and admire? Please. And I’m only a year older than him.

  He continued. “But I agree that a little competition can bring out the best in people. I certainly learned that in my years on the street, when you had to fight and scrap for everything to stay alive. You could never take anything for granted. So it taught me to be extremely determined and do what it takes.”

  I had serious doubts that competition to stay alive on the streets brought out the best in people. I suspected it frequently brought out something more like the most savage.

  “That’s very moving, Grant.” Dr. Seymore’s face was admiring. “I’m sure you’ll have a unique take on it. And you, Quinn?”

  Yeah, moving alright. My lunch. “Absolutely. Looking forward to it.”

  Dr. Seymore nodded with approval and stood to go.

  “Let the best man win,” Grant called after her. Once the door was closed, he turned to me, his false sincerity abandoned. “But just so you know, I’d do anything to win that position. Anything.”

  Now that, I believed. Which is why I was now very, very nervous.

  Sixteen

  Sloan slid into her seat at our corner table. “Well, this place is cozy.”

  Indeed it was. The Italian restaurant from the other night, not much to look at from the outside, was warm and inviting in the main dining room. Fashioned from an old Spanish-style house, the place was softly lit by sconces that gave a soothing glow to the casually-elegant ambiance.

  I nodded in agreement. “I especially like the mural. It’s a nice touch.” The walls behind us were covered in floor-to-ceiling murals of an Italian cityscape. It appeared hand-painted and was quite vivid.

  But we were here to take in more than just the scenery. So far it didn’t exactly seem like the kind of establishment where one would come to get loaded. Intimate couples and small families at the surrounding tables were enjoying quiet dinners. I hadn’t even seen a bar anywhere.

  After a quick browse of the menu, I selected a simple wine from the extensive list and relaxed into my seat. I was happy to finally have some down time. As expected, work had become infinitely more unpleasant working alongside my fellow intern since the announcement the day before. It was going to be a long two weeks.

  “This is a nice break from the usual,” I said. “So we don’t need to worry about our target tonight? Whichever one that is.”

  Sloan put her menu down. “Both brothers are at the funeral. Showing support for their colleague. We’re on our own for a few hours.”

  A waiter appeared bearing a basket of bread and a strong accent that sounded authentic. We placed our orders and he accepted our menus with a flourish.

  Sloan reached out as he attempted to retrieve the wine menu. “You mind if we hang on to this?”

  “Of course, of course.” He hustled away.

  I lifted an eyebrow to my companion. “Planning on multiple drinks tonight? I thought we were on the clock. And it’s a school night.”

  Sloan gave me a knowing smile and pulled papers from her purse. She unfolded them between us, leaning in. “I went back over Richard’s financial statements, looking for patterns.” She scanned her finger down the list of charges. “A lot of his money was withdrawn at ATMs. But a significant number of charges were made in this restaurant.” She stopped on a charge listed only as ‘Coppola,’ made last month for a little over four thousand dollars. “Large charges—as much as ten grand at a time.”

  “Here?” I thought back over the menu. The fare was not exactly cheap, but definitely not expensive enough to generate that level of tab, even for a roomful of people. “How is that even possible?”

  She lifted the wine list. “That’s why I wanted to check this. The only thing I can think of is a penchant for expensive wine.” Sloan scanned the list and her eyes lit up.

  She held the menu toward me and pointed to the final entry. A Bordeaux for nearly four thousand dollars.

  My face scrunched at the absurdity. “Don’t tell me he comes here to get drunk on bottles of obscenely expensive red wine. Wouldn’t a simple Long Island do the trick?”

  “Well, the ridiculous wine could explain the charges. But I think there’s something more going on.” She pushed away the menu and nodded her head toward the entrance. A hostess stand stood in what used to be the home’s grand two-story foyer.

  “You see that staircase by the front door?” She spoke quietly. “Since we got here, several men have come in and headed straight up the stairs. Each alone. Well dressed. I’m curious where the stairs might lead.”

  “Why, what are you thinking?”

  “Did you happen to notice anything about the windows on the way in?”

  Definitely not. I glanced to the nearest one. “Like what?”

  “Like the downstairs was all lit up like Christmas. But every window on the second floor was completely dark.”

  I tried to figure out where she was headed. “Which is not likely if people are going in and out.”

  “Right. Few blinds are that light-proof. There are clearly people up there—and yet to the street it looks empty. A little suspicious, no?”

  I pictured Richard being carried out the night before. The place was utterly black, yet somehow he was inside, drunk. It didn’t quite make sense at the time, but I hadn’t pursued the thought further. I described what I saw to Sloan.

  She looked satisfied at the information. “I guarantee whatever’s going on up there is what Richard is up to. And I think you should try to find out what it is.”

  My stomach dropped at her words. I wasn’t expecting any real espionage tonight.

  “Relax, I said you should try,” she continued. “I don’t think there’s any way you’ll actually get up there. But if you try, it’ll be interesting to see their reaction. Sometimes that’s all you need.”

  I reached for the bread basket to buy myself time. I buttered a crumbly slice and took a bite, considering. What she described sounded reasonable and not very risky. And I had to admit, she was right.

  When the hostess stepped away from her perch a moment later, I knocked the crumbs off my hands and stood. Sloan grinned at me in encouragement and grabbed a hunk of bread for herself. I headed straight for the stairs.

  I was halfway up when a startled voice sounded behin
d me. “Excuse me!”

  I turned toward the diminutive dark-haired hostess scrambling up the staircase.

  “Can I help you?” Her English had only a hint of accent.

  I pointed to the second floor. “Isn’t there another dining room up here? I wanted to take a peek.”

  “No.” Her face was hard, serious. “That floor is off limits to guests.”

  “Oh.” I gave my best genuinely confused act. “I could’ve sworn I saw other people going up.”

  “Private party only.” She crossed her arms, looking impatient. “I must ask you to return to your table.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry. I was on my way to the restroom and this place is just so cute I had to check it out. Where might I find the ladies’ room?”

  She pointed the direction and I thanked her and scurried down the stairs. The woman held her spot, watching. As I entered the restroom I saw her ascend to speak to a large stone-faced man who appeared at the top of the staircase. Looked like I may have caused a small scene.

  I tried to calm my flush before returning to the table. While there was nothing inherently dangerous in what I had been doing, there was still a rush any time I had to lie. It seemed I liked a little deception.

  Sloan’s grin when I sat down told me she got the same thrill, no matter who was doing the lying.

  “We’ve already had at least three different people poke their heads around the corner, peeking at our table,” she whispered. “What exactly did you do?”

  I shrugged. “Turns out the upstairs isn’t another dining room. They said there’s a private party in there. Not allowed up.”

  She raised her eyebrows at the information. “Interesting.”

  I took a sip of my wine that had arrived in my absence. A moment later the waiter appeared with our meals. His already-attentive approach seemed possibly kicked up a notch. He definitely wanted us happy. But my creamy alfredo did look delicious.

  We devoured our food in silence for a few minutes. Just as I was nearing too full to continue, a figure at the hostess stand made my appetite halt entirely.