Deadly Intersections

by Ann Roberts

  “Why won’t you speak to her?”

  She glanced up, surprised. “You knew? She told you we were involved?”

  He shook his head, a sad expression on his face. “No, she didn’t have to. I figured it out a few days ago. When I was in your office your cell rang and it played Wipeout. That was Ari’s favorite song as a child. She used to stand around and dance to it.” He chuckled. “What were the odds? Then she told me she was dating a cop so I just put it together.”

  Molly finished her scotch and put on her jacket. “That’s some pretty good detective work. I think the department’s hiring.”

  “What the hell happened, Nelson?”

  That was a very good question, one she couldn’t answer. Somehow everything had spun out of control. Now her career was over, and she’d lost Ari. She hopped off the barstool and threw some bills on top of the discarded printouts. She didn’t care about moles and killers anymore.

  Jack pointed to the printout. “What’s this?”

  “It’s not important,” she said, before staggering out of the bar.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  He thought it was hot for February. Temperatures continued to hover in the high seventies when they belonged in the mid-sixties. He moved under the shade of the ramada and glanced at his watch. His connection was twenty minutes late. He’d just completed a call to Vince Carnotti, who was overjoyed at the dismissal of Molly Nelson. He’d escaped a close call, and his sigh broke the silence.

  Losing Nelson was hard. She was a great cop—too good for collateral damage.

  He heard the motorcycle before he saw it. The park was mostly empty as the visitors transitioned from families ending picnics to beer partiers who hadn’t yet stopped by Circle K to get their alcohol. The motorcycle chugged to a stop next to his Infiniti and the rider dismounted—Biz Stone.

  “Great meeting place, Sol. I think I swallowed a pound of dirt all the way up here.”

  Sol Gardener remained expressionless. He didn’t care for Biz. He had nothing against lesbians but she was too butch, too hard. He much preferred Ari’s classiness and Molly’s androgyny. He saw her as crude and unrefined. Still, she’d come through and done her job.

  He handed her an envelope of money, and she whistled when she glanced at the package of hundred dollar bills.

  “Sweet. This’ll pay for my new kitchen in the loft I just bought.”

  He turned to go, his business concluded. “I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

  “Sol, wait a minute. You need a helper in the future, you find someone else. I’m done.”

  He crossed his arms and gave her a hard look. “Does this have anything to do with Ari?”

  She shrugged. “I really care for her. That drunk Nelson didn’t deserve her.”

  Sol exploded and pushed her against his Infiniti. “Listen, missy. Molly Nelson was a damn fine cop. Okay, she had a drinking problem, but she was a great person and our little scheme flushed her life down the toilet. So don’t you ever say anything bad about Molly.”

  Biz put up her hands and moved away. “Sorry.”

  Sol took a step toward her, his finger pointed. “And don’t you ever forget that Ari’s my godchild. If you do anything to make her unhappy or jeopardize her life or career, I’ll kill you. Know that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Hispanic man who hopped out of the taxi in front of 6815 West Windsong didn’t notice the nondescript Buick down the street. He glanced over his shoulder before he jumped the fence into the backyard.

  Jack pulled the binoculars away and reached for his clipboard. He recorded the activity on his log, one that was quite lengthy from the seven days he’d staked out the address. The comings and goings at the house suggested drugs, and he was impressed by the low-key operation. Only a tip from an informant, one like Molly’s friend Itchy, would’ve led the police to the front door. Neighbors would never suspect.

  He sighed deeply, still digesting the truth, which hurt him almost as much as Lucia’s death. His best friend, his former boss, his mentor and Ari’s godfather was on the take. And he was most likely responsible for the end of Molly Nelson’s career.

  She’d abandoned her spreadsheet on the bar as she staggered outside and he’d immediately noticed one of the entries—Duffek Turn. It was a kayaking term and Sol Gardener loved kayaking. It was Sol who convinced Jack to relocate there for his retirement, assuring him that when he retired he would join him and together they could start a kayaking company called Duffek Turn. It was too unbelievable to be a coincidence, but the obvious truth was numbing and forced him to action.

  He staged his good-bye a week ago, allowing Ari to drop him off at the airport. No one knew he remained in Phoenix holed up in a Motel Six near the interstate. He’d spent much of his days and nights sitting in the rented Buick, watching, recording and waiting. So far he’d only seen low-level mules trafficking the goods.

  He checked his watch. It was after sundown and time to move the Buick again. He made a U-turn and circled the block, deciding to park on the other side of the street in the opposite direction. He knew if he kept this up much longer he’d need a different rental car. There was no reason to take chances since he didn’t know who actually lived in the house. He’d watched people come and go but couldn’t spot the owner.

  He circled the block and parked again just as an Infiniti pulled up into the driveway.

  “Show me something,” he murmured.

  He grabbed his camera and positioned his enormous telephoto lens. When no one immediately emerged from the car he worried that he’d been made and was the victim of a setup. Just as he was about to put the rental in drive, a man flew out of the house and raced toward the car. The window opened and the man leaned inside. Jack’s heart rate quickened as he held the shutter button down. He didn’t think about what he was seeing. He only focused on recording the interaction between the underling bending over to receive his instructions from the powerful boss driving the Infiniti—Sol Gardener.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ari and Jane rode silently through the neighborhood. Since her breakup with Molly, Jane had ceased her usual joking and sarcasm. A part of Ari was grateful for the silence—another part of her missed the normalcy.

  And it would take a long time to get back to normal and forget Molly.

  “Where are we going?” she asked impatiently.

  “You’ll see,” Jane said with a slight smile.

  She opened the paper and decided not to think about the mystery. On the front page of the local section was a wonderful human interest story, the reunion of Millicent and Laurel Jeffries.

  “This is great,” she commented with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “How is Laurel adjusting?”

  Jane nodded. “She’s doing well considering that she hasn’t seen her mother since she was a child. Millicent walked out on her when she was four, but I think they’ll be okay.”

  Happy endings are nice. Jane turned into the Day Arbor neighborhood, and Ari’s anxiety skyrocketed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s okay, honey. I need to show you something.”

  She wasn’t surprised when Jane’s Porsche stopped in front of Stan Wertz’s ruined house. Lorraine’s real estate sign had been removed although the familiar white post still stood in the ground at the edge of the cement walkway.

  “Here we are!”

  She sighed. “Why?”

  “You’ll see. C’mon.”

  Jane ignored her protests and bounded out of the Porsche. She fumbled through her purse until she pulled a key from its depths and opened the front door. Clearly Lorraine and Jane had planned something. Ari remained in the car, unwilling to play along. Jane waved with her natural enthusiasm, coaxing Ari to join her, but she just shook her head.

  Jane entered the house and stuck her head out, grinning. Ari slightly smiled at her antics. She was certainly determined. A rumbling from behind the Porsche caused her to glance into the rea
rview mirror, just in time to see the enormous chrome grill of a Ford truck nearly kiss the Porsche’s tail. Her heart skipped a beat momentarily as she thought of Molly, but when she turned around, Jane’s good friend and handy dyke, Teri, hopped out of the cab with her tool belt slung around her hips.

  “Hey, Ari. Are you getting out?” She offered her hand which Ari felt obligated to accept.

  “I’m sorry about everything that happened,” she said with a frown.

  “Thanks.”

  The two of them studied the wounded structure. “This place is magnificent,” Teri concluded. “I can only imagine what it looked like before the fire.”

  “It was wonderful,” she said wistfully.

  “Let’s go in and find Jane,” Teri suggested. “By now I imagine she’s searched through every closet and room in the place.”

  She chuckled and allowed Teri to guide her toward the front door.

  “Jane!” Teri called.

  “I’m up here!” Jane answered from the loft.

  Teri vanished up the stairs leaving Ari to explore. Every stick of furniture had been removed, and the walls were dusted with the residue of ash and smoke. She looked at the beautiful Travertine tile, noticing that the women’s footprints had left a trail up the stairs. The guest bedroom, guest bathroom and family room had been destroyed. She peered out at the backyard and glanced at the foundation of the car house, the only remnant of the place where she’d met Stan Wertz on the first day of their house hunting.

  She wandered through the kitchen and through the doorway that led to the solarium. She was pleased to see it was unharmed and entirely unaffected by the explosion. She glanced at the detailed white woodwork that framed each of the large picture windows and the elaborate wainscoting extending to the floor.

  “Ari, get up here!” Jane called.

  She sighed and joined them upstairs. Teri was admiring the rounded archway that led from the master bedroom into the master bath. It was inviting, open and airy with French doors that led out to the Romeo and Juliet balcony. She imagined how wonderful it would be to lounge outside on Sunday mornings with coffee as she did now at her condo. She shook her head to erase the foolish notions.

  “Jane, why are we here?” she asked impatiently.

  She turned to her, a broad grin covering her face. “Do you like this place?”

  Ari gasped and marveled at the magnificent bedroom. “It’s unbelievable. Whoever built it was so meticulous, so caring.”

  “They were,” Teri agreed. “The place was built in nineteen-ten by the Reynolds family. The father was one of Phoenix’s original bankers. He wanted a place that wasn’t far from downtown and had lots of trees.”

  “How do you know about the original owners?” Ari asked.

  “I did some work for an elderly lady down the street. I went back there yesterday, and she told me all about the history of this house. I guess a lot of people have been inquiring about it.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Lorraine’s phone has rung off the hook. People still think they can buy it. She’s told the same story over and over, how it’s part of the estate. Oddly enough I think it reverts to the wife.”

  “It does,” Jane concurred. “And she wants to get rid of it—fast.” Jane took her hand and led her into the loft that overlooked the spacious living room and the backyard. “In fact she’s willing to sell it for only a fraction of what it’s worth because three-fourths of the profits go to Wertz’s family, and she could care less about any of them. Apparently they treated her as badly as he did. So she’d be happy to sell the place for five bucks if she could get away with it.”

  “How much does she want?” Ari asked, suddenly very curious. She had heard of such finds before, houses that were the victims of vicious divorces or contested estates. Vengeance became more important than wealth, and the lucky buyer was always a winner.

  Jane produced a fax from her purse and flashed it under her nose. It was addressed to Lorraine and she scanned the five lines in which Beatrice Florence Wertz stated her ridiculously low asking price.

  “She’s kidding!” was all Ari could say.

  “I thought so, too. And when Lorraine got this she thought about buying the place herself, but I convinced her that it should belong to you.” Ari flicked her head from the fax to meet Jane’s stare. “You need this, Ari. And the house needs lots of work but Teri will help you for a reasonable rate, and I know you’ve got a small fortune saved. Don’t you think this place would be great for you?”

  Her hands started to shake and the thought of finally owning a home, a dream she had helped so many others fulfill, suddenly made her sick to her stomach. “I don’t know, Jane. I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure I could live here after what happened.”

  Jane snorted and grabbed her friend’s hand. She yanked Ari down the stairs and led her back to the solarium. She put her hands on her hips. “Say no to me here. I dare you to say no standing in this room.”

  Ari opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked around unable to believe that she could buy the house. Jane was right. It was affordable, and she could entirely renovate it so that every memory of Stan Wertz was erased.

  Teri leaned against the doorway, her muscular arms folded across her chest. Ari said, “Do you really think you can fix all of this?”

  “I won’t lie to you. It’s going to take time and definitely some serious money because the insurance won’t do it all. I’ll need to hire some subcontractors. But when it’s done it will be more incredible than it was before—”

  “And worth about three times what you’ll pay,” Jane interjected.

  “Absolutely,” Teri agreed. “But I doubt you’ll ever want to sell it once we get her back into her state of glory.”

  Ari smiled. That part was true. If she loved where she lived she could never imagine moving. She looked around the glass room trying to picture the house the way it was on the day she’d walked through the front door with Lorraine. She couldn’t believe it was only a week before. The restoration would probably drain most of her savings, but it would be a fresh start and it would rejuvenate her. Perhaps that was Jane’s plan all along.

  “Okay,” she said quietly.

  Jane clapped her hands in glee and threw her arms around Ari. “That’s wonderful! You’re going to love it.”

  Jane raced out of the room already punching numbers into her cell phone. Ari chuckled as Jane told Lorraine about her news. Her best friend was more excited than she was. Teri led Ari into the west wing behind the vinyl tarps that separated the two sections of the house. She explained that Ari wouldn’t want to live here until some of the major remodeling was complete. Once it was inhabitable she could move in while Teri completed the job. She tried to process everything Teri was saying about the timeline and the permits necessary, but her mind was numb from the idea of home ownership. They walked outside and examined the exterior. Teri was convinced that the structural damage was not serious. She gave Ari her card and departed with a wave to Jane as her old truck rumbled out of the neighborhood.

  Ari took a final long look at the house that would be her first real home. It was inviting and warm. She knew each night when she pulled into the driveway she would feel content. She returned to the passenger’s seat of the Porsche and reached instinctively for her cell phone to call Molly. She froze when she realized what she was doing.

  It rang suddenly and she dropped it in her lap. Biz. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Hello?”

  “It’s a pretty great house, don’t you think?”

  “What? How do you know about this?”

  “I’m a private detective, remember? And I think you look hot in that red blouse you’re wearing.”

  Ari’s eyes widened as she glanced across the street. Biz’s motorcycle sat against a curb a block away. She’d called every day since the blowup with Molly, but she’d changed. She wasn’t flirtatious, and her comments were full of compassion and concern. It was a different
side of Biz that she found incredibly appealing.

  “Are you following me?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she admitted.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Do you like the house?”

  A smile burst onto her face. “It’s amazing. It’s got this solarium that is unbelievable, and I love the loft. And…” She paused and took a breath. “You probably don’t want to hear all of this.”

  “No, I do.”

  Suddenly the phone disconnected, and she heard the roar of the engine as the motorcycle sidled up next to her. She rolled down the windows, and Biz leaned through the driver’s side.

  “Come riding with me.”

  “I can’t. I have things to do.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait. Come on. I’ve got a spare helmet.”

  “No,” she said simply.

  Biz offered a sad smile. “I understand. But I’m not going to leave you alone, Ari Adams. I won’t give up.”

  She roared away, and Ari gazed at her home, smiling at the prospect of new beginnings.

  Chapter Thirty

  The south parking garage at Scottsdale Fashion Square was practically empty when Jack headed back to his rental. Only a handful of cars remained on a late Sunday night, and he guessed they belonged to mall security personnel out on their rounds. He watched the taillights of an Audi cruise through the exit, probably one of the few movie-goers who’d been in the theater with him watching the latest Anne Hathaway movie.

  He’d needed a mental break from the drama that was swallowing his life, the one he was supposedly retired from. A movie always lifted his spirits, especially one starring a cute brunette. And Sunday nights were the best times to visit the theater—no crying babies with couples who couldn’t afford a sitter on date night and no crowds either. He could extend his long legs into the aisle without tripping other patrons. He’d always pleaded with Ari and Lucia to go to the movies on Sunday nights because it was just so much more enjoyable. They’d pack up Ritchie, who usually slept through the whole thing, and go to the nine-thirty show. Those were some of his best memories.