Before I knew it, my shift was over, and I met with Ian and walked back home with him. I glanced over my shoulder every now and then, but I couldn't make out anyone following us—either Billy, or Eli or one of his men. Occasionally, I thought I heard footsteps, but when I turned around, there was no one.
The next morning, Ian came over for breakfast, but once again, he'd left Snowflake in his apartment.
“I baked white chocolate and raspberry muffins,” he said, placing the box on my countertop. “I thought we should take something for Elwood, just in case we run into him again on a different investigation. Do you think we should take some for Ryan as well?”
“That would be a good idea. Although, this information we’re about to share with him should be gift enough,” I grumbled.
“He might not think that way,” Ian said, as we each settled down with a muffin and a mug of coffee. “I researched Drago some more after you went to work, and there are all kinds of rumors about him, but nobody's ever proved anything.”
“That just shows how dangerous and clever he is. It's only the stupid criminals who get caught.”
We chewed our food thoughtfully, and then I said, “How is Tariq doing?”
“He helped me with these muffins. He says cooking and baking helps him to relax, and that he had to depend on his own skills for food for a long time. He's really getting along with Snowflake—she's always happy to play with him.”
“He seems nice, but I'll be glad when he and Stone have left for DC.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“I'm not sure. I think Stone is still trying to set some meetings up. It's difficult, because Johnson has to convince people to have an unofficial meeting first, otherwise, they'd just arrest Stone on the spot.”
“He'll figure out something. Eli might have powerful contacts, but I'm sure Johnson has more than a few of his own.”
Chapter 17
By the time we showed up at the precinct, it was late morning, and we headed over to Elwood's desk first.
When he saw the box of muffins we'd brought for him, his eyes glittered and he just about drooled.
“I knew I could count on you guys!” he said. “Next time you need any information, you come straight to me—that boyfriend of yours is pretty useless.”
I laughed. “I don't think he’s useless, but I'm glad you're happy with the muffins.”
“I'm going to make more time for baking,” Ian promised. “And every time I bake something new, I’ll bring a box for you.”
Elwood beamed at us, and then we made our way over Ryan's desk. For once, we found him doing paperwork instead of being out on a case, and he looked up and grinned when we approached.
“I was hoping for an excuse to take a break,” he said, drawing me in for a quick kiss. “Is that box for me?”
I nodded. “We could only save two for you, but I hope you like them.”
Ryan looked at Ian. “I know I've got you to thank for this—Tiffany never seems to have any time for baking or cooking.”
Ian beamed. “That's okay, the more I bake, the more I enjoy it. Mixing everything together is pretty relaxing, and the smells when you put something in the oven—mmmm.”
Ryan locked the box of muffins away in his desk drawer, and then he turned to us again. “I'm guessing this isn't a purely social visit?”
I shook my head. “Could we talk somewhere private?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. “More questions? You know I've told you everything I can.”
“It's not that. We're here to share some information, not take it.”
“That's a first.” Ryan smiled at me, teasing, but he led us over to the friendly conference room with its couches and fake potted plant. Once the door was closed behind us, he said, “So, what have you guys found out?”
“Have you looked into the laundromat?”
“Just briefly—we’re not really interested in it. The only connection to Charlene's death is that Brad and Chris own the place.”
I shook my head. “It's not just Brad and Chris, it’s also owned by the Brad and Chris Corporation.”
Ryan looked a bit confused. “Isn't that what I just said?”
I shook my head again. “No, the Brad and Chris Corporation isn’t owned by Brad and Chris—it's a shell company owned by George Dragovich.”
Ryan's eyes widened at the name, and he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Are you sure about this?”
I tilted my chin up. “Of course I am! We’re always thorough in our research.” Unlike the police, I wanted to add, but I didn't. I was the spitting image of tact.
Ryan sighed and leaned forward again, clasping his hands together. “This is surprising information, but I'm not sure that it's connected to Charlene's death.”
“You don't think that a known criminal working together with Charlene's brother and his partner has anything to do with her death?”
Ryan shook his head. “There are such things as coincidences, you know.”
“Not in an open murder investigation,” I argued. “You have to at least look into this.”
“There were never any indications that Charlene knew Drago or ever met him.”
“But you never specifically asked about it.”
Ryan shrugged. “I can show his photo around to everyone, and ask Brad and Chris—but even if Charlene had met Drago once or twice, what difference does that make? He’s never been involved with her or anything.”
“But you don't know that,” I countered. “You've never actually asked.”
Ryan leaned back, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You're right. I can't just write it off—I’ll go and have a word about this. Though I think the whole thing is just a coincidence, Drago is a dangerous man when it comes to other criminals, or his criminal enterprises, but I can't see why he would be involved in the death of a cocktail waitress.”
“So you're not really going to investigate Drago,” I muttered under my breath, unable to keep the disappointment off my face.
I don't think Ryan heard what I'd said, but Ian was sitting next to me, and he definitely had.
Ian said, “If the cops won’t investigate Drago properly, maybe Tiffany and I should.”
Ryan's eyes flashed, and he held out one hand. “Woah! Stop. There is no way I can have you talking to a dangerous criminal like Drago. If he thinks you two are out to take him down, or hurt his income streams in any way, he won't hesitate to take you down. We've never gotten any proof on the guy, but we’re fairly sure that murder is not something that's new to him.”
“So he wouldn't think twice about killing someone,” I countered, “even if that someone is a cocktail waitress, and not a criminal. How can you even be sure that Charlene wasn't involved in something criminal? Maybe she was running drugs for Drago.”
Ryan smiled. “You're grasping at straws. We investigated Charlene properly, and she never had anything to do with drugs or anything illegal at all. If anything, maybe we should turn this information about the laundromat over to the IRS, so that they can investigate Chris and Brad—those two are probably involved in money laundering or something like that.”
“That's what we think,” I muttered, unable to stop feeling disappointed that Ryan hadn't been as enthusiastic about this information as I'd hoped.
“I'll look into Drago,” Ryan promised. “But I don't want you to get your hopes up. We can't investigate him outright, or he'll get suspicious, and it's highly unlikely that he ever had anything to do with Charlene.”
“Maybe Tiffany and I can still investigate,” Ian said. “We can be subtle about it.”
Ryan turned to Ian and grinned. “I've never known you to be subtle about anything.”
“Ok,” said Ian. “But I can try.”
Ryan and I both laughed at that, and Ian looked at us, puzzled. But then Ryan sobered up and looked at me seriously. “I’m not kidding about this—Drago is a very dangerous man. I can’t risk you getting hurt by trying to inves
tigate him. More than anything, I want you to be safe. Which means you and Ian need to stay away from Drago.”
Chapter 18
As we drove back to my apartment, I didn’t know how to feel about our conversation with Ryan.
On the one hand, it was nice of him to be concerned about my safety. On the other hand, I didn’t like someone telling me how to run my investigation. And while I understood the need for the cops’ discretion in investigating Drago, I wasn’t sure there needed to be so much pussyfooting around the issue of whether or not Drago could be involved in Charlene’s death.
Once Ian and I were back in my apartment, we decided that since we weren’t getting anywhere with Drago, we’d look up the details of Charlene's former roommates and try to get in touch with them. The private investigator's database and the Internet turned up nothing of interest, and two of them didn't answer their phones. The other roommate told us that she'd moved to Florida, and the fourth agreed to meet us the next day.
“It's a long shot,” I told Ian, “but we've got to keep trying. Maybe one of them had something to do with Charlene's death after all.”
“We need to be thorough,” Ian agreed, “even though we think that this Drago guy is the one who's involved. I couldn't find a phone number for Drago on the Internet—I guess you've got something from your database?”
I nodded. “I got his office address and a phone number, but I'm sure it's not one that he’ll answer personally. We'll probably get the runaround from some assistant.”
“We can always turn up at the office.”
I was thinking about that, when there was a sharp knock on my door.
“Maybe it's Tariq,” Ian suggested, as I got up to open the door.
When I opened the door, I found myself staring at a slouching man wearing a bright Hawaiian-print shirt and khaki shorts. He had scraggly blond hair that fell past his shoulders, and an equally scraggly blond mustache. A baseball cap was jammed onto his head, and shiny white touristy sneakers adorned his feet.
It was only when he removed the cap and the blond wig that I grinned. “Stone! Your disguise is as ugly as any of Ian’s.”
His lips quirked up and once he’d stepped inside, Ian said, “I'll go get Tariq. I assume you're here to see him?”
Stone nodded, and Ian left for his apartment.
Stone settled down on one corner of the couch, and watched me as I perched nervously on the edge of a chair. I felt slightly awkward, and didn't know what to say. Stone was always very quiet, but for once, he was the one who started the conversation.
“I've been trying to keep an eye on you. I'm sure Eli suspects Tariq is here, and that you know something about it.”
“Then why doesn't he come over to my apartment to try to talk to me?”
“Because he's sure you’ll lie to protect me.”
That wasn't very reassuring, but I said, “Should you even be keeping an eye out? That sounds dangerous.”
Stone shook his head. “I think it's time for me to stop hiding. I need to take risks—if Eli wants to have a confrontation, he can have it.”
I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Was it really a good idea to confront a man like Eli? I couldn’t envision something like that going well.
Before I could voice my doubts, Stone said, “How's the murder investigation going?”
I filled Stone in on what I'd learned about Drago.
Stone shook his head. “Drago’s dangerous. Not a good idea to mess with him.”
“That's what Ryan said. But the police won’t look into Drago, because they're scared of ruffling his feathers. It's up to Ian and me—you know I can't just let it rest. If Drago’s got something to do with Charlene's death, I'm going to find out about it.”
Stone looked at me, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “I've never known you to back down from a challenge.”
I watched him warily. “So you're not going to discourage me from talking to Drago?”
“I would if I could, but I pick my battles. If you insist on going to talk to Drago, I'll come with you.”
I raised one eyebrow. I shouldn't have been surprised. “You know Drago?”
Stone looked off to one side. “I know all kinds of people.”
I'd known that about Stone the first time I'd met him—I remembered Elwood warning me off him, telling me that Stone was involved with all kinds of shady criminal types. I didn't want to ask Stone why he knew Drago, but I was curious. “And Drago won't mind if you come along with us?”
Stone looked at me and raised one eyebrow. “Drago doesn't agree to meet random investigators he doesn't know. He knows me. If I give him a call, he’ll agree to meet us.”
My heart surged with hope. “And you’ll give him a call?” And then I remembered that it was dangerous for Stone to come out of hiding. “But what about Eli?”
Stone shook his head. “Eli knows better than to mess with Drago. As soon as I'm done here, I'll call Drago, and set up an appointment.”
“Thank you!” I wanted to rush over and give Stone a big hug, but just then, there was a knock on my door.
I opened it quickly, and Tariq and Ian stepped inside.
“I wanted to give you a progress update,” Stone said to Tariq. “Johnson is getting in touch with his people—we should be all set to head to DC next week or the week after.”
Tariq nodded. “That sounds good.”
“I think we should stop hiding from Eli. If he wants to have a chat, we can talk.”
Tariq raised one eyebrow. “I do not think he will want to ‘chat.’ I think he’ll want to kill me.”
Stone looked at his friend seriously. “I think the same thing. But we'll never know until we try.”
If Tariq was bothered by Stone's plans, he didn't show it. Instead, he just tilted his head. “It is nothing we cannot handle.”
Stone looked at me. “I'll send you a text, and we can meet in front of Drago's office.”
And with that, Stone jammed his wig and baseball cap back on his head and headed out.
Chapter 19
Ian was over the moon when I told him that Stone would help us arrange a meeting with Drago.
“That's just like Stone!” he said. “He's always the guy to turn to when you need something.”
“But what if Drago turns out to be the killer?” I didn’t mean to sound worried, but I couldn’t help it. “In that case, we could all get into trouble—and then it wouldn’t just be Eli gunning for Stone.”
Ian flicked one hand dismissively. “Stone knows how to take care of himself! And I'm sure this guy Drago owes Stone a favor or two, otherwise he wouldn't agree to meet us so easily.”
I tried not to think about what kind of favor Drago might owe Stone, and a few minutes later, my phone beeped with an incoming text. It was a number I didn't recognize, and I assumed Stone had gotten a new burner cell phone, because the message simply said, “5 PM today.”
“It's a good thing my shift starts after midnight today,” I told Ian. “If we meet Drago at five, then hopefully, he’ll agree to talk to us for half an hour or so. We can try to get in touch with Charlene's former roommates again after that, and then maybe we could even try to talk to Brad or Chris.”
Before we knew it, five o'clock arrived, and Ian and I were stepping out of my car in front of Drago's office.
The address I'd had on file was near the airport, a three-story building that looked like it had seen better days. But the windows were all tinted dark, and it was impossible to see inside. The front door seemed to be made kind of heavy metal or wood, painted white, and I just knew that the place would have bunker-like security inside.
We had only been standing in front of the office for a minute or so, when Stone stepped out of a small black Honda. He was still wearing his blond wig, fake mustache, and baseball cap, and his dark eyes were at odds with the rest of his disguise.
He led us to the front door and pressed a buzzer.
When the buzzer was answered by a harsh, male vo
ice, he said, “It's Stone.”
The door was opened by a muscular man with dark brown hair and a short beard. Tattoos ran all the way up the sides of his arms, and he had a teardrop tattoo under one eye. He nodded wordlessly at Stone, and glanced at Ian and me.
We followed the tattooed man inside, up a set of stairs, and into a small room that had been set up like any other office—there was a large desk, filing cabinets, and fake potted plants.
It all looked fairly normal, other than the two burly men who stood behind the desk, arms crossed over their chest.
The man I knew from his pictures as Drago sat behind his desk, and he stood up to shake hands with Stone.
He had a shaved head, sharp, angular features, and piercing blue eyes. His skin was tanned, and I noticed a small tattoo near his wrist. He looked almost like any other businessman, with a white shirt rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and dark, formal trousers.
Stone introduced me and Ian, and we shook hands in turn—Drago’s grip was strong, and he looked each of us in the eye.
He sat back down at his desk, and the three of us sat on chairs on the other side. I noticed that the man who'd led us up to the doorway was watching us from his position there.
“Stone said to me you wish to ask a few questions,” Drago said, looking at Ian and me. His words had a faint trace of an accent that struck me as being Eastern European, and his eyes seemed to miss nothing. “How can I help you?”
I decided to plunge straight in. “We’re investigating the murder of a cocktail waitress, Charlene Nelson. Did you know her?”
Drago smiled, a small polite smile. “You have to be more specific than that.”
“I've got a picture on my phone,” I said, and handed it over to him.
He studied it for a few seconds, and then he shook his head. “Never seen her in my life.”
He handed it back to me, and I put it away, feeling slightly unsure of myself. “Are you sure?”
Drago shrugged. “Maybe she served me drinks once or twice, if you say she was a cocktail waitress. But I have never talked to her, nor do I know her on a personal basis.”
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