Impulse Spy (Sonic Sleuths Series)

by Carrie Ann Knox

  I put my fork down and mumbled quietly to Sloan. “The guy up front. Is that who I think it is?”

  She caught my vibe and paused before scanning the room nonchalantly. I heard her breath catch before she returned to her meal, a little stiff. “The man from the photos, meeting Richard in the alley. What is he doing here?”

  I spared another glance and discovered the man clearly looking in our direction. I quickly averted my eyes. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

  Within seconds the man appeared at the head of our table. He was wearing a fine gray suit with subtle pinstripes not visible from afar. A paisley silk pocket square and slicked-back dark hair gave him a polished, commanding presence. I gulped back my unease.

  “Good evening,” he began, his accent thick. “I’m Salvatore, the owner of this establishment.” He gestured to the table. “I hope everything is to your liking this evening.” The smile he directed at us seemed warm on the surface, but his eyes chilled me.

  “Everything was excellent.” I had to steady my voice. “You have a beautiful place here.”

  “So wonderful to hear that. Is this your first time visiting?”

  We both nodded.

  “Lovely, lovely. Well if there is anything you need.”

  Sloan spoke up. “Actually, we do have a question. We were curious about a wine.”

  She picked up the menu and pointed to the outrageously-priced bottle at the bottom. “It’s unusually expensive, so we figure it must be just amazing. Do you serve it very often?”

  “Well,” he hedged, “I do have a few select patrons that are fond of the vintage. Very loyal. But I really don’t know what they see in it. Overpriced, in my opinion.”

  “So you don’t recommend it?”

  “No, no, no. Don’t waste your money. Plenty of nice wines on there to choose from that are just as special.”

  Sloan laid the menu on the table and looked up at him. “Thank you for your advice. We’ll steer clear.”

  The man gave a little bow of his head, his eyes glinting coldly at each of us. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

  We watched him cross the dining room the way he had come.

  I lowered my voice. “Between going upstairs and asking about the wine, I think it’s safe to say we’re on his watch list.”

  Sloan nodded. “Probably thinks we’re undercover cops or something. I think it’s about time to head out of here. We’ll pay in cash.”

  Once we exited, I knew we were both thinking the same thing. We waited until we reached our cars before turning to look back at the facade of the restaurant. The second story was still in shadow, every window pitch black.

  Something more going on indeed.

  Seventeen

  I tried unsuccessfully to stifle my yawn. A belly full of pasta and wine did not go well with sitting in a dark car for two hours. I sat up straighter, trying to shake myself back into alert mode.

  My phone buzzed beside me. I clicked to answer Sloan, who was parked discreetly back near the restaurant to observe any exit by the owner.

  “Talk to me,” she said. “I’m starting to daydream about my bed.”

  “I’m with you. This guy better be into something to make this worthwhile.”

  “I can’t guarantee he will be tonight, but I can guarantee he’s into something, regardless.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the wine,” I said. “What’s your theory—it’s a cover?”

  “Definitely. What’s your best explanation for why the owner would strongly dissuade someone from ordering the most expensive wine on the menu?”

  I considered. “Maybe it doesn’t exist?”

  “Exactly. It’s an easy way to launder money. Someone like Richard needs to pass thousands at a time? Just charge up an imaginary bottle of expensive wine. It’s especially useful if the guy’s running out of cash and has to use credit.”

  “So what do you think they’re covering, exactly?”

  “Since it’s unlikely they’re running a crack den up there, looking at the clientele I’m thinking it’s probably gambling. Could be just some poker, but I’d be willing to bet it’s a whole sophisticated operation.”

  I knew nothing of such things. “So you think the restaurant is financially fronting a backroom casino?”

  “It certainly wouldn’t be the first underground casino, especially in a place like Virginia where most gambling is outlawed. You’d have to head out of state for the nearest legal one.”

  Fascinating. I had a feeling I’d be amazed at the stuff that goes on behind the scenes around me.

  “Hang on.” There was a pause. “Okay, get ready. We’re finally on the move. Our guy pulled out headed your way. Look for a black Escalade going by.”

  Instantly I perked up and readied myself to fall in. To avoid showing an obvious tail, Sloan was to stay put near the restaurant for a bit. I could move in behind the owner in question from a parking lot down the road, eliminating any suspicion. This plan only worked if he had headed in the direction we anticipated. Fortunately, we had guessed correctly.

  An Escalade zipped by. I pulled out of my spot and eased onto the road, eventually catching up but keeping my distance. I kept Sloan informed of our whereabouts and she headed our way.

  The unfamiliar area became more industrial and fairly deserted. I didn’t want to stand out. I described the surroundings to Sloan. “I need to hang back a little further.”

  “I think I know where you’re headed.” She sounded a little excited. “It’s risky, but go ahead and drop way back. I think I know another way there. But I’ll really have to hurry.”

  I let her concentrate while I watched the SUV continue almost out of sight. He was driving exactly the speed limit, never over. Hopefully that would give Sloan extra time to get wherever she was going.

  When the Escalade turned again far ahead, deep in a maze of run-down brick industrial buildings, I informed Sloan. She directed me to pull off and wait, then disconnected, leaving me cut off from the action.

  I did as instructed and idled, anxiously wondering what was going on. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Just when I was about to give in and call Sloan, her name appeared on my phone. I answered hastily.

  “He’s headed back your way. You might as well just see where he heads, but don’t stress about staying on him closely. I’m more interested in this other guy now.”

  “What other guy?” A dark SUV glided past, headed back the way we had come.

  “Explain when I know more.” Another disconnect.

  Not exactly informative. Less amped this time, I pulled out and got the Escalade back in my sights. Halfway down the road I had a feeling where this was headed. When he pulled back into the parking lot of his restaurant, I felt a little cheated. All that for a quick errand?

  When Sloan notified me she was back in the vicinity, I left my backdoor vigil and met her across the street. Her face glowed with anticipation when I hopped in her car. I perked up again.

  “Clearly you saw something. What did you find?”

  Sloan grinned and handed me the camera in silence. On the screen was a familiar setting—the alley from the first Richard surveillance, where he had met with the man we now know as the restaurant owner. This time the alley was empty. “I’m confused. Is this from tonight?”

  She nodded. “I took it before they arrived. When I heard where he was headed, I had a hunch he would return to the same spot. So I got there first and had a front row seat. Well, front row from a block away.”

  My eyes widened. “He met with Richard again?”

  “Better.” She clicked to the next photo. The icy restaurateur appeared, facing a thin, rough-looking younger guy. The scene looked mismatched, Salvatore’s fine suit contrasting against the young man’s worn, slouchy jeans and hoodie. Thin, bedraggled blond hair grazed his shoulders. Even their postures were opposites, poised stiffness against a youthful casual stance. Something about the guy’s hands stuffed into the hoodie’s kangaroo pocket caught my ey
e. I moved the camera closer, trying to get a better look at the newcomer’s outfit.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” Sloan clicked again and a close-up of the guy’s torso appeared. White Japanese characters glowed from the sleeve of the dark hoodie.

  My breath hitched as I registered my recognition. I know that sweatshirt. Suddenly the rest of the figure clicked with familiarity. I looked to Sloan. She was clearly waiting for me to catch up.

  Before she could speak, a ding chimed from her phone. She checked the screen. “Funeral’s over. Richard is headed out.”

  I stared back, expecting her to explain what I was looking at. The last thing I was concerned about at the moment was Richard’s whereabouts. Who was the guy?

  “We really owe Hannah for all her help.” She was maddeningly referring to the text again.

  Now I was gaping at her. She gazed back, her face blank.

  Finally I gave in. “Well?”

  She grinned, amused. “Well, what?”

  “It’s the same guy from the hotel, right?” My mind was whirling with the connection. “The last guy to see Carter Evans alive. So who is he?”

  “Ohh, that guy,” Sloan replied playfully. “I don’t know.”

  Always a game. “Well what did you find out?”

  She shrugged. “There, not much. Another exchange, looked pretty similar. Salvatore there always seems to do the receiving. That’s definitely a large wad of cash the guy hands him.”

  “Sounds like he’s quite the entrepreneur.”

  “Exactly. So I did a little checking on him while we were waiting earlier. Apparently he owns those buildings there where they were meeting. An old abandoned factory.”

  Interesting. “Doesn’t sound like a great investment. But I’m guessing it makes a nice quiet spot for his business transactions.”

  “Exactly. Very out of the way. So we have to wonder who else our guy is doing business with.”

  She clicked to a new photo. The hoodie reappeared, this time leaning into the passenger window of a rusty silver sedan. The nearby streetlight allowed a glimpse of a rundown residential street behind them.

  “He didn’t go far. I didn’t want to hang around that neighborhood for long, but I got the gist. Our mystery hotel guest is clearly slinging on a street corner. He’s a dealer, just as we suspected.”

  I swallowed, thinking it through. “A dealer with a direct connection to the restaurant owner.”

  Sloan nodded. “The owner who also met with Richard in the dark alley. But we don’t know for sure what their connection is yet, only that Richard also frequents the restaurant. But that’s a few too many coincidences for my taste.” She looked at me, her face now serious. “Still think we’re chasing an innocent overdose here?”

  Well, I had wanted all this to lead somewhere for my own entertainment. Unfortunately, so far it only seemed to be leading toward something with our fingerprints all over it. I shook my head gravely in response.

  Sloan’s eyes darted across the street, the usual lightness returning to her voice. “Well look who just showed up to join the party.”

  I followed her eyes to the restaurant, where Richard’s flashy sports car was pulling into a spot at the front of the parking lot.

  “Boy, he sure does like his Italian.” She shook her head, her face reflecting the same exhaustion I was beginning to feel. “And I think I’ve had quite enough of it for tonight.”

  Eighteen

  I spent most of the next day at work distracted, pondering our next moves in the investigation. I had less than two weeks left before I would have to put my involvement on hold and focus solely on my career. Once I had presented my project and began collecting data for my study, there was no possibility of sneaking off to spy in my free time. I would just be too busy. So we needed to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I had no experience to tell me what was next.

  It seemed Sloan did. After work I headed back to the diner to meet and discuss our plans. And to my surprise, Hannah was at the table with her when I arrived, a round of coffee ready on the table. They both looked up conspiratorially as I settled into my seat.

  “So Hannah says she has some inside information for us,” Sloan said.

  “Oh?” I shook off my jacket. “Anything interesting?”

  Hannah looked reluctant. “Maybe. I still feel weird snitching on my boss, but since you said the firm may be in trouble, I thought it could be relevant.”

  “What did you find?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I haven’t found anything. I still don’t know what I’m looking for. But something a little strange did happen today.”

  We both gave her our full attention.

  “Richard has been coming in looking a little . . . well, rough. Quite a bit lately.”

  Sloan gave me a quick glance of acknowledgement. “Like, maybe, hungover rough?”

  Hannah nodded. “Very possibly. The worse he looks, the crabbier he is. Mainly to me. But today it got so much worse after he had an unscheduled visitor.”

  I reached for my coffee. “What kind of visitor?”

  “I don’t know. But it didn’t seem like a legitimate business meeting. When the guy showed up and demanded to see him, Richard got all cagey and sent me away on a useless errand. When I got back, the guy was gone and Richard stayed shut up in his office the rest of the day. I had to cancel all his appointments.”

  “What do you think went on?” Sloan asked.

  “I don’t know.” Hannah looked a little nervous. “But I’m pretty sure they got in a fight or something. He was all disheveled and sweaty, and yelled at me to go away. But when he snuck out at the end of the day, I noticed he had wrapped up his hand in something. I think he might’ve used his undershirt as a bandage. And I’m pretty sure there was a bruise on his face.”

  “What did the guy look like?” I asked.

  “Brown hair, partially gray. Kind of a big build. Nice suit.” Hannah gave a little shiver. “He sort of gave me the creeps. Something about his eyes. Menacing.”

  I could tell we were thinking the same thing when Sloan turned to me. Don’t tell me it’s the same guy. She reached into her bag and pulled out the camera. After searching the memory to find the photo of Richard meeting the man in the alley, she handed the camera to Hannah.

  “Was this the guy?”

  Hannah studied the screen for a moment and looked up with widened eyes. “That’s him. Who is he?”

  Sloan and I exchanged another look. “So far we just know he’s the owner of a restaurant Richard frequents,” I said. “But we’re pretty sure there’s a lot more to it than that.”

  “Actually,” Sloan added, “I have confirmation that there is. I checked with a source who confirms there’s definitely illegal activity upstairs. Mostly underground gambling. Probably some related enterprises. It’s apparently a well-known secret around town.”

  This was news to me. “Source?”

  She winked. “Have to have all sorts of friends in this business.” She pointed to the restaurateur on the camera. “He didn’t identify himself in any way? Say what it was about?”

  Hannah shook her head. “He wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Just kept repeating that he needed to see my boss. Immediately. He was almost threatening.”

  “Okay.” Sloan sat back in her seat, lost in thought. “So what do we know about ol’ Richie so far?” She counted off on her fingers as she spoke. “He might have a drinking problem. Might be a gambler. Definitely has a lot of debt. And now has some ‘menacing’ restaurant slash-underground casino owner show up at his workplace, ruffling his feathers. The same restaurant he stumbled out of the other night.”

  She pointed to the man on the camera screen and continued, her eyes lighting up. “If Richard was a regular at his secret casino, he could’ve extended him credit. If he has severe money problems—and still goes out gambling and drinking—that could definitely get him into some trouble. He could owe more than just his
credit cards.”

  I picked up on her line of thought. “What if they weren’t fighting? Maybe the man was there to rough him up. Give him a little warning.”

  Sloan slowly nodded. I felt the same excitement at the revelation that I saw in her eyes. We were getting somewhere. We just had to figure out where.

  I tried to picture the incident at the office. I pointed to the man in the alley photo. “When he came in to see Richard, would anyone else have heard their conversation?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Walter has the only other office in that section. And he and his new assistant weren’t around.” She paused, seeming to hesitate. “And that’s the other thing. I don’t know if it means anything or not.”

  “Did something else happen?”

  “Sort of. No, not really.” She looked a little embarrassed. “Never mind.”

  We both waited patiently, eyebrows raised in interest.

  She eventually realized we weren’t going to move on. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m just being silly.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Last week I was replaced. Well, sort of. Officially, I’m Richard’s assistant, but for a long time now I’ve been doing double duty. Handling everything for both brothers. Until last week.”

  “What happened?” Sloan asked.

  Hannah shrugged. “Nothing. That I know of. But the other day a bubbly little blonde waltzes in and announces she’s Walter’s new assistant.”

  “Did Walter hire her?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I think it was Richard. He came out and introduced them. Walter seemed just as surprised as I was.”

  “Well, that seems like it would make your job easier,” I said. “But you seem bothered by it.”

  Hannah’s face flushed slightly. “I thought I was doing just fine. I may not understand everything they do, but I do a good job handling their needs. So this just came out of nowhere. I hope I’m not getting fired.”

  “I’m sure that’s not what’s happening,” Sloan replied. “Maybe he brought her in for a specific reason. Is she really good at something?”