Deadly Intersections

by Ann Roberts

  She rose and strolled purposefully through the front doors of the enormous office complex. It didn’t surprise her that his offices covered the entire top floor of the building, and the ride up the twenty-two stories made her ears pop. The elevator opened directly in front of a receptionist who sat behind a massive mahogany desk. She waited patiently noticing that every stick of furniture and every piece of equipment was top dollar.

  “Ms. Adams, please take this corridor to the first desk you see,” the receptionist said pleasantly. She pointed to Ari’s right but dared not leave her post.

  She only glanced at one of the Hometown Grocery photos that lined the hallway, unwilling to look at endless pictures of Stan Wertz. She arrived in front of a petite woman in a very expensive silk blouse. Her brown hair cascaded around her face and Ari thought she should be in a shampoo commercial. The woman looked up from her computer with a pleasant smile.

  “You must be Ms. Adams, Mr. Wertz’s real estate agent. I’m Candy, Mr. Wertz’s personal assistant. Let me show you in.”

  Ari realized this was the woman who’d had an affair with Warren Edgington. Did she still care for him? Certainly she wouldn’t give a false alibi for Wertz if she did.

  They approached the expansive oak door. Candy cleared her throat and prepared to knock. It was as if she was rehearsing for the simple task of announcing a visitor, and she was worried that she wouldn’t get it right. When her knuckles finally touched the door, she paused and waited for permission to enter the inner sanctum. They took a few steps inside, Wertz appearing not to notice them, his gaze focused on the enormous computer monitor that sat on his desk.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said gruffly. “Look around. Candy, honey, will you get me a gin and tonic? Ari, what would you like? I’ve got everything you could imagine and Candy’s first career was as a bartender. She’s a wiz.”

  Candy rolled her eyes, and Ari suppressed a chuckle. “I’d just like a sparkling water,” she answered.

  Candy busied herself behind the bar while she strolled around his office, stopping in front of a model that sat in the center of the room. Hometown City Center was written in block lettering in the lower left corner. No wonder the building was so much bigger than a Hometown Grocery. She remembered the article she’d read online and Wertz’s desire to rival the big box stores. She saw the streets that bordered the store—Elliott and Alma School—one of the busiest corners in Chandler, a neighboring suburb of Phoenix.

  She turned her thoughts to business and seated herself on his expensive leather sofa. She pulled several files from her briefcase and strategically arranged them on the glass coffee table so that he could see the variety of houses from which he could choose. She’d spent the entire morning creating color-coded portfolios for each price range, and she’d included several glossy photos of each property and its amenities, hoping he could be distracted from the house at the top of the butte.

  Candy took his drink to his desk and brought her the sparkling water in a crystal glass, setting it delicately on a handcrafted ivory coaster. When Ari looked up, she flashed a seductive smile and touched her shoulder. “Would you like anything else?”

  She shook her head, but Candy continued to hover, exposing her cleavage and the hot pink bra that held it all in place. Her smile broadened when she realized Ari had indeed noticed her perfect breasts, and she squeezed her shoulder. “Let me know if you change your mind. I make an incredible margarita.”

  She smiled pleasantly and watched her sashay out of the office. She sipped her water and glanced at Wertz, his hands flying across the keyboard while he stared intently at the screen. He smacked the last key with a deliberate stroke and rose from his chair. Instead of immediately joining her, he tugged at the tailored cuffs of his dress shirt, straightened his tie and put on his suit jacket as though he were changing his image before beginning their meeting.

  “I’m in a great mood, Ari,” he announced. “By this time next year the Hometown City Center will be open, and FoodCo will be crying their eyes out. You’re looking at a man who staged a major coup.”

  “Really?” she said, hoping she looked appropriately interested. “How’s that?”

  “I got the last great piece of commercial real estate in Chandler. FoodCo wanted it, but I got it. That new center will totally shift the demographics in my favor. I will dominate that area and FoodCo will be lucky to turn a profit.”

  “How did you manage to pull that off?”

  She knew the surveyors for large companies were always a step ahead of the smaller ones because they often had inside information from city planners and real estate brokers. If he’d bested FoodCo he needed leverage.

  “Persuasion,” he said slyly. “I beat them because I am truly more persuasive.” He joined her on the sofa and set his drink on the coffee table. “What did you learn about the house I want?”

  She chuckled and picked up the first stack of folders. “Well, I did inquire and I do have some information, but why don’t we go through these possibilities first since they’re already for sale?”

  He immediately shook his head. “Ari, I thought I was clear. There’s no other house. I appreciate your effort with this presentation and you obviously do your homework, but I am only interested in that property.”

  She realized he was adamant and she gently dropped the stack of folders onto the coffee table. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. She pulled a thin manila folder from her briefcase and handed it to him. He scanned the contents while she summarized from memory. “The place is so expensive that it has a name, Serendipity. It’s a one-of-a-kind built in the Seventies by an architect who was a protégé of Frank Lloyd Wright—”

  “That’s not surprising,” he interrupted. “You could see the Wright influence all over it. Did this guy study at Taliesin West?”

  She nodded at his reference to the architectural school located in Scottsdale. “Anyway, the architect, a guy named August Glick, is dead now and the house is owned by his brother, Jacob.”

  “Have you contacted him?”

  “Um, no, not yet. Stan, did you notice what the assessed value is for this house?”

  He laughed and went to his desk. “It’s only money.” He punched a button and Candy’s voice filled the office, asking what she could do to help. “Please locate the phone number for Jacob Glick, call him and tell him that I wish to visit him as soon as possible.”

  Wertz spelled the last name and gave Candy the address for Serendipity. Ari could feel a headache coming on. He had tunnel vision about this house, a place that was unattainable in her estimation. He returned to his desk chair and stared at the monitor.

  “You don’t think he’ll see me, do you?” he challenged, his fingers once again pounding the computer keyboard.

  “I’m doubtful,” she admitted.

  “Ye of little faith. Would you like to make a bet on it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of bet?”

  “Not what you’re thinking. I’ve learned my lesson, Ms. Adams. If I win you let me take you to dinner.”

  “And if I win?”

  “I’ll double your commission, whatever it is.”

  She figured even if she lost, a chance at a doubled commission would be worth a dinner with him.

  “I’ll take that bet but only if you let me pick the restaurant on the off chance I lose.”

  “Fine, but every entrée on the menu must be at least twenty-five dollars. You’re not taking me to a fast food place,” he said.

  “Deal.”

  “You have no idea how amazing Candy can be,” he laughed.

  “I think I can imagine it,” she murmured under her breath. She gathered the file folders into her briefcase and stood to leave. “Well, call me if she gets the meeting.”

  “Wait. I’ll be dialing your cell phone before you hit the ground floor.”

  She ignored the advice and reached for the doorknob just as Candy came over the speaker. “Mr. Wertz? Mr. Glick said he would me
et with you and Ms. Adams tomorrow evening at eight-thirty.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Andre met Molly at her office door. He must have read her expression and chose to take the chair furthest from her desk. She wondered if he could tell that she was nursing a killer hangover or if she still looked drunk. She certainly felt tipsy, and she cursed herself silently. She’d kept drinking into the early morning hours, and even her high tolerance for alcohol couldn’t completely mask the effects. She sipped her coffee for another fifteen minutes before she finally looked at him hoping she didn’t reek of liquor and that he didn’t get too close to notice.

  “What have you got?”

  “Two things. We may have a lead on Selena Diaz’s family, and I think I know what your friend Professor Shakespeare was talking about.”

  “Good. I have no idea what a game board coat would look like,” she said.

  He set a checkerboard on her desk. The recognition was instantaneous.

  “The person’s wearing a red and black flannel jacket. Is that what you think?”

  He nodded. “I realized it last night when my nephew wanted to play chess with me. This has to be it, Mol.”

  “Okay, good job. Now all we need to do is scour the area for a street person that fits that description.”

  He shrugged. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”

  She handed the checkerboard back to him. “I wouldn’t say that out loud.”

  A knock sounded and Sol Gardener appeared with David Ruskin. “Detectives, I thought I’d stop by and see how we’re doing.”

  She prayed her eyes weren’t as bloodshot as she thought.

  Andre jumped in to help. “We’ve got a lead on a possible eyewitness, and we think we’ve located Maria Perez’s best friend. The family’s been missing for two days.”

  Sol nodded, his eyes focused on her. “Nelson, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, sir,” she replied, hoping her voice was even.

  “Jesus, Nelson, you’re drunk!” Ruskin shouted.

  She resisted the urge to crush her palms over her ears and glared at him. She said nothing, determined not to lie to Sol.

  “David, will you and Andre please excuse us?” Sol asked quietly.

  The men left, and he perched on the edge of her desk. “Hey, I know things are tough right now. Ari’s dealing with her dad, you’re working a terrible murder case. I get it.”

  At the mention of Ari she almost wailed in pain. When she could finally meet his gaze without bursting into tears, she looked up into his kind eyes and returned his sad smile. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

  “It can’t,” he said firmly.

  Although she’d been directed to go home, Molly convinced Andre that all she needed was a run to Starbucks before they continued with their day. On the way he told her about Selena Diaz.

  “I’m hearing rumors from one of my informants that her father may owe a loan shark.”

  “Okay,” she said, washing down three more aspirin with her coffee. “Let’s visit Hector and then look for the eyewitness.”

  “And I may have found something on the spreadsheet.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a few addresses that I’m certain are owned by dummy corporations. I’d say at least four of the houses are illegal fronts.”

  She snorted. “Only four?”

  He grinned. “Surprising, huh? I think we should focus on those. Separate the legal from the shady. Maybe one of them will go somewhere.”

  He showed her the list he’d made in his notebook. None of the names was significant and most appeared insignificant. That’s the point.

  “Good work, Andre. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He glanced at her, a worried look on his face. “Are you sure you’re up for this? I’m not happy about defying the chief’s direct orders.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If we get in trouble I’ll say I kidnapped you at gunpoint.”

  The smell of rubber permeated every corner of Sandor’s Auto World. Molly and Andre wandered to the front counter where Hector Cervantes sat on a stool playing a game on his cell phone. He glanced up at them but didn’t blink an eye when Andre hefted her gouged radial onto the counter.

  “I’m having a little problem with this tire, Hector,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with it?” She pushed her finger through the punctured sidewall for emphasis.

  Cervantes just stared at her. “It seems to me you already have an idea, detective.”

  “What I’d like to know is how it got this way.”

  He peered at the slice and grimaced. “I’d say you ran over something, possibly a piece of sharp metal lying in the road?”

  Her anger flared, and she hurled the tire across the counter, sending a display of key rings crashing to the floor. Three technicians appeared from the service area but quickly disappeared at the sight of Andre’s badge. She leaned over the counter and faced him.

  “We’re done with the bullshit games. You think you can scare me? Not on your life. What you’re going to give me right now is some cooperation. I’m well aware that your Uncle Sandor is using this place to launder drug money. With one phone call from me, the county attorney will be here with a warrant, analyzing every record, every file and every transaction your uncle has made. I’m pretty sure Aunt Claudia can’t support her five children while her husband rots in a prison cell. So are you going to talk to me or not?”

  Cervantes’s eyes conveyed hatred but respect for his adversary. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where is Selena Diaz’s family?”

  “Gone.”

  “Where?”

  “If they’re smart, far away from Big Paddy.”

  She blinked and glanced at Andre. Big Paddy was a loan shark. “What does Paddy have to do with any of this?”

  “Pops is in deep. He loves the track, and he owes Paddy a ton of money.”

  “So their disappearance didn’t have anything to do with Maria Perez’s murder?” Andre asked.

  “No,” Cervantes said, clearly annoyed. He glanced at both of them. “What? You thought I had something to do with it?” He sat down on his stool and folded his arms. “That’s ripe.” He looked out at the street and his eyes narrowed. “What do you want with Selena, anyway?”

  Molly shook her head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing homicide investigation, particularly with a person of interest. I do have a few more questions for you. I’ve heard that your brother and Maria might actually have been an item. Any truth to that?”

  He laughed out loud and shook his head.

  “What did Raul tell you?” she pressed.

  “Well, I’m not going to tell you anything between hijos, but he told me Maria was off right before she died. She acted like she was spooked or something. She’d changed.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing you need to know.” Cervantes motioned to the destroyed radial still teetering on the end of the counter. “Do you want me to do anything with that? I’ll fix it for you cheap, considering you’re a member of the law enforcement community.”

  They headed for the door. “No, you keep it. We already dusted it for prints.” She pushed on the rickety old handle and turned back to him. “And tell your friend Pablo Nedolo to stay the hell away from my car or he’ll spend the best years of his life in the state pen.”

  Whatever levity that had passed between them was gone and the stone cold face of a gang member met her gaze and nodded slightly.

  The Greyhound bus station was their third stop. A young security guard named Bruce confirmed that they were probably looking for a woman nicknamed Checkers.

  “I’m sure she’ll be by in a day or two,” he said. “She never stays away long. I always have to ask her to leave, in a nice way,” he added quickly. “She’s a great lady, and I wonder what she was like in her old life before her mind went.”

  “What’s wrong with her mind?” Andre asked suspiciously.


  “I’m not a doctor, but I’m guessing she suffers from Alzheimer’s. She’s not very clear about a lot of things. Just the other day she was trying to convince me that the woman on the TV, the news anchor, was her daughter. Go figure!”

  “Do you know where else she goes?” Molly interjected.

  Bruce sighed. “Hmm, that’s a hard one. I’m not sure she’s ever mentioned another place. I’d try the streets down by the arena. Sometimes I see her with a soft drink from the arena food court.”

  The US Airways Arena concourse was crowded with lunchtime traffic. They searched the fast food lines as they crawled toward the counters filled with business people checking their watches. There was no sign of a woman in a red and black plaid coat.

  “I’ll hit the bathrooms,” Molly said. “You go back outside and see if she’s on the patio.”

  They went in separate directions, and she found the ladies’ room. Two women were reapplying their lipstick in front of the mirror and only one stall was in use. She squatted down and peered at the shoes, gaining the stares of the women at the sink counters.

  “It’s okay, I’m a police officer,” she announced.

  She quickly exited the bathroom certain that the brown penny loafers she’d seen didn’t belong to Checkers. There was one more bathroom at the other end of the concourse. She threaded her way through the large crowd toward the entrance. A flash of red caught her attention and a red and black plaid jacket emerged from the bathroom and ducked out a nearby exit where Andre hopefully waited.

  By the time Molly reached the door Andre and Checkers were coming back inside, a smile plastered across the old woman’s face.