The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 4)

by Linsey Lanier

  Keith eyed Holloway and Wesson, who’d finally been allowed to perch on the sofa. “They can go but I’d like you and Ms. Steele to come downtown.”

  His jaw tight, Parker didn’t argue. Instead he turned to the pair on the couch. “I hate to cut your vacation short, but I could use your help right now.”

  “Be an honor, sir,” Holloway said.

  “Agreed,” Wesson echoed, her green eyes bright and alert.

  “Are you sure? It will be mostly bodyguard duty.”

  “I am,” Holloway said. “Anything to help.” He turned to Wesson. “You?”

  “Of course, I am. What do you need, sir?”

  Parker described their client to them, gave them directions to Esquecer in Campos do Flores, told them to rent a car and expense it. When they got to the resort they were not to leave Tia’s side. After Holloway took it all down and he and Wesson rushed out the door together, Parker called Tia back and described the two employees he was sending to keep an eye on her.

  Then he stepped over to Keith who was waiting beside Miranda.

  “We’re at your service, Inspector,” Parker told him.

  And they headed out the door and downtown.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The police station was another twenty minute ride—this time in a squad car—to an elaborately decorated cream colored building in an old part of town.

  The driver dropped them at the corner and drove off to park who-knew-where, while Keith led them up the centuries old steps, through the front doors and down a long, low-ceilinged hall that smelled of strong coffee and stale tobacco. With old fluorescent lights buzzing overhead Miranda was starting to wonder which side of the law the officer thought they were on.

  As far as the décor went Keith’s office wasn’t much better.

  Tiny and cramped with cracked and yellowed paint covering the walls, the space was as utilitarian and no-frills as a cop’s office could be. Though some of the blemishes were hidden by an arrangement of notices, Wanted posters, and color prints of local soccer players.

  Keith waved a hand at two fold-out chairs for his two new best friends and eased himself into a creaky leather seat behind a metal desk that had seen better days. It was stacked with thick manila folders of case files and wire bins messy with variously tinted office papers.

  Ignoring the paperwork the detective eyed the large computer screen sitting on the desk. The décor might suck but the equipment looked pretty up-to-date.

  While Parker remained standing Miranda settled onto one of the chairs, hoping it wouldn’t collapse underneath her, and studied Keith.

  The detective’s face looked as wrinkled and worn as his clothes and office but he seemed competent. Maybe even good.

  “It looks as if you were not able to prevent another killing after all.” He said the words in a sympathetic tone.

  “No,” Parker admitted. “I only wish we could have.”

  “I called Inspetor Gaspar and contacted the lab in São Paulo. No results yet.”

  At that Parker took a seat. He gave Miranda a long steady look before he cleared his throat. “I sent some samples of my own to the Parker Agency lab in Atlanta.”

  Keith’s curly red-brown brows popped up. “From the body you found in the mountains?”

  Parker nodded.

  Keith sat back and steepled his hands to study the man before him. He could have slapped the cuffs on Parker and probably sent them both to the pokey, which would have been a load of fun. But the inspector seemed both impressed and fascinated. “Then we’ll have to see who wins the race, won’t we now?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Keith leaned forward and tapped on the keyboard of his computer. “We do have preliminary results of the thermos on your plane from this morning.”

  Miranda tensed. “And?”

  “As suspected, it was Rohypnol.”

  She shuddered.

  “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about.”

  Parker gave her a weary look. “Go ahead.”

  Guess she was back on the case in Parker’s book. Okay, then.

  She went over the details once again. She told Keith about Parker’s old friend who’d been getting death threats. Their suspicions about the fired groundskeeper. Didi’s boyfriend. And how the ambitious and sex-hungry Rico Dominguez, soon-to-be-ex of their client seemed to travel back and forth from Rio to Campos do Flores.

  “So you think Rico is behind all of these incidents? The death threats, the tampered car brakes, the Rohypnol.”

  Miranda nodded. “And probably Juli Torres’ murder. When my co-worker and I were at the modeling agency, we overheard two women gossiping about Juli being with Rico. That’s how we got the lead.”

  Keith starred absently at the soccer poster on the wall, nodding. Suddenly he sat up. “If you’re right, we may be able to identify him.”

  “How?”

  “Fortunately we have the video feed from the lobby of Torres’ building. I’d like you both to go over it with me.”

  Miranda looked at Parker.

  He thought a moment. The longer they delayed, the longer it would take to get back to Campos do Flores, where Rico most likely was now. Possibly closing in on Tia.

  “Do you know if our plane is ready to fly?” Parker asked.

  Keith gave him a crooked smile and glanced at the time on his cell phone. “The Cessna has been dismantled, transported to the airport, repaired, put back together. It should be ready to go within the hour.”

  On the other hand if they could help ID the murdering bastard, the police could lock him up as soon as they found him. Plus Wesson and Holloway were on their way to the resort, though it would take them hours to get there.

  Parker studied his watch then turned to the Inspector. “I’ll give you an hour.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It took a lot longer than an hour.

  After Parker had pulled their chairs around to get a better view of the screen, a couple more detectives joined them to watch the show.

  It was deadly boring.

  A mostly fast-forwarded five hour time span of people coming in and out of the apartment lobby. Men, women, groups of young people. A mother with a young child. Another mother with two children. A man who stopped to stuff out his cigar in a nearby planter.

  Eventually the other cops drifted off and Miranda rubbed her eyes and yawned. The film was black-and-white and grainy, and she thought the checkered pattern of the tiles on the lobby floor would be forever imprinted on her brain.

  Finally the sliding glass doors opened for the millionth time and two figures appeared.

  Miranda sat up. “There. That’s her, isn’t it?”

  Keith stopped the film.

  The woman was tall and lean and model-like. Frozen in a toss of her long dark hair, she was dressed in the slinky black dress Miranda had seen on her bedroom door. A tall dark haired man was on the other side of her.

  “You’re right,” Parker said.

  Miranda pointed to the screen. “He’s got a bag. Looks like a backpack though he’s carrying it in one hand.” The one he’d bought in Nunes Sporting Goods?

  “Yes,” Parker murmured.

  Brought a change of clothes. Bet the knife was in there. And if he really thought ahead, when he left, a used condom.

  Keith backed up the footage to where the couple came in and ran it again in slow motion. They watched the pair come through the sliding doors, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

  Time in the corner was a little after eleven p.m. Didn’t take him more than a couple of hours, according to the ME’s TOD estimate.

  There was no sound but Miranda could almost hear them laughing together. They both walked as if they were a little tipsy. Night on the town. Good food, good drink, a little nookie afterward.

  As they neared the camera, the man threw his arm around Torres and leaned in to kiss her on the neck. Couldn’t see much of his face and even Torres’ features were hard to
make out. Did he suspect security cameras? Was he purposely hiding from them? Had he scoped the place out before he made his move on the model?

  The couple passed out of range on their way to the elevators.

  Keith ran the film back a few more times. On the last pass, just before the kiss on the neck, he froze the frame and zoomed in as best he could.

  “He’s got dark hair. Does this look like your man?”

  Miranda squinted hard at the screen. “We’ve only seen him on that magazine cover.”

  “But it does bear resemblance to that photo,” Parker said.

  “Yeah, it sure does.” But that could be wishful thinking.

  “I’d like a copy of that still, if it’s possible,” Parker said to the inspector.

  “Of course. I can send it to your cell phone.”

  Exhaling a frustrated breath Parker got to his feet. “I’m sorry we can’t be of more help, Inspector.”

  Miranda held up a hand. “We have the Celio card charge at a coffee shop just after six last night. And the girls at the modeling agency thought Rico might have taken Juli to a place called Antiquarius.

  Keith reached for a pad and pen and started to scribbled notes. “Yes, I know it. High-end restaurant. Not a place I frequent but I’m familiar with it. We’ll check it out. Show his picture and see if anyone remembers seeing him.”

  Parker looked at his watch. “I regret we won’t be able to assist you with that. We need to get back to our client.”

  “Understood. I’ll have someone take you to the airport right away.” Keith rose and escorted them to the door.

  After all the effort of getting here and nearly getting killed in the process, it seemed like they weren’t coming away with much. Miranda struggled to cling to hope. If they could just find this guy. Find someone who could finger him.

  Before stepping into the hallway she turned back to the inspector. “Rico’s semi-famous. People will recognize him. That ought to work in our favor.”

  Keith gave her a sad half smile. He felt the same frustration. As a police officer, he lived with it every day. “Let’s hope so.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  By the time they went through all the official rigmarole at the airport and got in the air it was after six.

  The purr of the propeller and the now familiar hum of controllers’ voices in her ears Miranda gazed out at the majestic rocky peaks that she’d thought she was going to crash into this morning. Parker glided easily over them, filling her with envy.

  Despite what they’d been through this was the way to travel. If they’d had to go by car, it would take forever to get back to Campos do Flores. But even the Cessna could go only so fast.

  She let out a sigh. “Looks like Wesson and Holloway are going to beat us to the resort.”

  “Unfortunately,” Parker said, his gaze straight ahead. Then he glanced at her. “Are you all right with this?”

  “This, uh, mode of transportation, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  A little late to ask. She had been fighting a queasy sensation in her stomach, but she’d been too focused on the case to think about it. Besides, she refused to wimp out. She loved thrills. “I’m fine.”

  He paused a long moment before he spoke, as if gathering his thoughts. “You did very well while I was…incapacitated.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You kept your head and your nerve. The controller was impressed.”

  “Nice to hear.”

  She wondered where that had come from. She hoped they could put that little incident in the cab behind them. But she knew Parker’s fears wouldn’t be so easily assuaged.

  From the corner of his eye Parker caught the cynical expression Miranda tried to hide.

  He hated to admit it, but he’d behaved unreasonably after her daring rescue on the beach. He should have taken her into his arms and held her close to him. Shared some comfort, some joy that they were both still alive. She had saved his life after all. He should have at least thanked her.

  She’d done that a few times. And he’d done the same for her. That wasn’t the point.

  The point was putting themselves into situations where they had to save each other’s lives. Not that he hadn’t put himself into risky positions before. When Sylvia was alive, he’d rush into danger without a second thought. Without considering what it might do to his first wife if he were injured or killed. To avoid friction, he’d kept most of his cases from her. And when she’d found out there had always been hell to pay. He knew how Miranda felt. Like having her wings clipped.

  And now he knew how Sylvia had felt, as well.

  But Sylvia’s fears hadn’t materialized. He’d been the one who’d lost her. And after he did, he’d been adrift and aimless for three years. He’d thought about giving up the Agency then. Retiring to some rural spot in Georgia and whiling away his time…oh, perhaps with flower gardening.

  Then one night he’d walked into a prison and met Miranda Steele. And nothing had been the same since.

  He adjusted altitude and the Cessna rose above the glorious green mountains looming below. How Miranda had managed to land this plane on the beach with so little flight knowledge amazed him. But then she was an amazing woman.

  He hadn’t changed his mind about wanting to send her home. But it was too impractical right now. Nonetheless when this case was over, he was determined they would have a discussion about the future of Parker and Steele Consulting. A calm, reasonable discussion.

  He only hoped, for Tia’s sake, and Miranda’s, and for the sake of his own sanity, they could find Rico Dominguez lurking somewhere in Campos do Flores soon.

  Chapter Forty

  It was after dark when they touched down at the tiny airstrip on the north side of Campos do Flores, with Parker making a perfect three-point landing.

  Max greeted them with big smiles and hugs, saying he was thrilled to see they were both alive and in one piece. But Miranda suspected he was thinking that was the last time he’d lend his Cessna out to strangers.

  A cab awaited them, courtesy of Max and a two-hour advance reservation. They thanked the courier, said good-bye, and rushed off to Tia’s house.

  Inside they found their client and Valdinho in the sitting room with Holloway standing guard, soldier like, at the fireplace. A glass of brandy in one hand, the lawyer wore a herring bone jacket over a dark T and black slacks. The collegiate look must be his typical style.

  Looking her regal self, Tia sat in a high-back chair upholstered in golden stripes dressed in a frothy deep green outfit. She wore a thick gold chain around her neck and long teardrop earrings to accent her updo. Her dark brows and exotic eyes broadcast fear. Wait ’til she heard what they had to tell her.

  “Where are your daughters?” Parker asked before their hostess had a chance to even offer them drinks.

  “Didi is upstairs in her room. Pipia is at the opera house.”

  Miranda tensed. “You let her go out?”

  Tia rose and went to the brandy cabinet. “I could not stop her. She wanted to practice. This concert means everything to her.”

  Miranda looked at Parker and saw he was worried. It just might cost Pipia everything if she were careless.

  Tia handed first Miranda, then Parker a glass of dark amber liquid. “She is safe. Your Detective Janelle is with her. What a lovely young woman.” She smiled nervously.

  Tia was trying to act the gracious hostess, as if it were a normal night of entertaining at home. Denial, Miranda thought. Wait a minute. Lovely? Must not have gotten to know Wesson very well yet. But Tia was right about being safe. Her co-worker could take care of herself and her charge.

  Without further comment, Parker filled Tia and Valdinho in on what had happened in Rio. Holloway stood silent, taking it all in, but Miranda could tell he really wanted to get this guy.

  Tia’s fingers went to the chains around her neck. “Rico tried to poison you? And he killed one of his models?”

  “So it appears.
I know this is all very disturbing but I need you to look at something.” Parker reached for his cell and showed Tia the snapshot from the surveillance film in Juli Torres’ building.

  Miranda watched Tia’s exotic eyes grow big as she studied the picture of her husband with another woman. “The model is beautiful.”

  “We’ve already identified her,” Parker said, trying to keep Tia focused.

  Miranda could see she didn’t miss the model’s resemblance to herself.

  Tia handed the phone back to Parker. “That certainly looks like him. Though the photo is not very clear.”

  “May I see it?” Holloway asked.

  Parker handed him the phone. After a moment he shook his head and handed it back. “Could be anyone.”

  Too blurry. That would really hold up in court.

  Suppressing a groan of disgust, Miranda crossed to the open floor-to-ceiling window and peered out through the panes. Was Rico Dominguez out there now? Looking back at her?

  As she stared into the darkness of the surrounding fir trees an uneasy feeling came over her. That tingle in the back of her neck she sometimes got when she was close to breaking a case, to facing a killer.

  The blur of the last few days had begun to clear and something seemed to click in her head. Something about this whole thing wasn’t right.

  Hiding in the woods? Writing death threats? Putting drugs in coffee? Killing a model that made you money and satisfied your sexual fantasies? You wouldn’t do that unless you had…lost your mind.

  She’d seen various degrees of crazy before. Men, women who’d snapped and started killing. Leon took the cake. But this? This felt like real insanity.

  What on earth would make a man like Rico crack? He had everything at his fingertips. His business, his models. If he’d realized he’d made a mistake and that he was really in love with Tia all this time, why not go back and patch it up with her before she divorced him?

  If he wanted to fight her over the property, he’d use lawyers. He could afford a slew of them.