Lizzie felt the urge to smash something.
She sat down and crossed her legs. A moment later she heard a voice say, “You can come in, Detective Jade.”
Lizzie followed the voice.
He was round from top to bottom. Heavyset men and women tended to be pleasant and happy. Sometimes jolly. At least that’s what she’d read in a magazine. Not this man. His eyes said he’d seen it all, heard it all, and don’t try conning him. Lizzie nodded and sat down. She waited.
“How are you, Detective?”
“Fine. I went back to work yesterday.”
“Do you think that was wise?”
“I’m not the type to sit around and twiddle my thumbs. It’s springtime. Yes, it was wise.”
“How are the nightmares? The anxiety? Are loud noises still bothering you?”
“I have it all under control.”
“Do you still sleep with your gun under your pillow?”
“Absolutely.”
“You never did that before. Do you see yourself giving up that security anytime soon?”
Aggie hated this guy. Lizzie decided she hated him, too. “No.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, someone tried to kill me yesterday. Actually, he tried to kill me and Nathan Hawk. Hawk is a reporter with the Journal-Constitution. The car jumped the curb. If it wasn’t for Gus, we’d both be dead. On top of that, I’ve been getting threatening phone calls.”
“Did you report the incidents?”
Lizzie looked around the office. It was as barren as the outer room. It also had a temporary feel to it. Sidney Blount overflowed his gray chair on the sides.
“To what end, Dr. Blount? It was an attempted hat-and-run. I can’t prove the calls were made. I’ll deal with it.”
Lizzie looked at the bare walls. “Where are your degrees, your certificates?” Her voice rang with suspicion.
“In my downtown office. You know I just work here one afternoon a week. Do you think I should carry them with me? You’re the only one who has ever asked.”
Lizzie felt like patting herself on the back.
“Whatever floats your boat, Doc,” Lizzie responded flippantly.
“How are the dog and your social life?”
“That was a mouthful. Which one do you want me to answer first? I guess in the order of importance. Gus is doing well. As I mentioned, he saved my and Nathan’s lives yesterday. If he hadn’t barked, we wouldn’t have dived for cover. He’s settling in. My social life is about what it’s always been. I have friends coming to visit this afternoon. I’ve struck up a nice or what appears to be a nice friendship with Nathan. It may develop into something, and it may not.”
“What about Dr. Rossiter?”
“What about him?” Lizzie tossed back.
“You know the drill, Detective. I ask the questions, you answer them.”
“Stupid me. I forgot. I guess he’s fine. He’s a friend. He’s gone now. He’s working on a gardening project I think. Like I said, he’s a friend, nothing more.”
“What are your feelings about Detective Madsen?”
“The same as they were the last time I was here. I hate it that he died. I hate it that some faceless, nameless person gunned him down and left him to die. I tried to help him, but I couldn’t. I’m living with that. No, I do not feel guilty. I am sad, though. Every time I talk to you, you harp and drill me on Tom. Can’t we let him rest in peace?”
“You have issues with Tom that you haven’t resolved. That’s why we can’t leave it alone.”
“I’m working on that,” Lizzie snapped.
“Are you making any headway?”
“No. The answer is inside my head and in my notebook. Tom’s mother gave me his notebook. I’m comparing the two to see if I can piece together the puzzle. By the way, Tom’s parents’ house was broken into. Mrs. Madsen had all of Tom’s things in a box in her closet. They rifled through it. They stole her pearls and something else, but I can’t remember what it was. She had taken out his notebook and hidden it. She gave it to me when I went to visit her.”
“How did you feel when you visited her?”
“Sad. They lost their only son. They’re nice people, and I like them.”
“What if it turns out that Tom Madsen was a dirty cop?”
Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know. Are we finished?”
“Yes, I think we are. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“No. I’ll see you in a month. If I need you before then, I’ll call you. Coming here is disruptive. I’m doing my best to get on with it. A month,” she said firmly.
“All right, Detective, a month.”
Lizzie turned to leave the ugly suite of rooms. She didn’t bother with the elevator but ran down the steps and outside into the pouring rain.
• • •
Lizzie was sitting on the front porch sipping coffee, her feet propped up on the railing when Nathan Hawk pulled into the driveway. Alice stirred herself, sniffed the air, then dropped her head to let it rest between her paws. “Hi,” he bellowed. “I took a chance you might be home. You waiting for your company?”
Not bothering to wait for a response, he leaped over the privet that ran along the driveway. “Will Fargo died this morning.”
“I know. I was there. It was awful. I just made some coffee if you want a cup.” He shook his head.
“Were you able to talk to him? Why’d you go there? Is it a cop thing?”
“Of course it’s a cop thing. I’m a cop. Dutch Davis’s partner accosted me in the parking lot. He was on his way to see Will. To answer your other question; it wasn’t a question, was it? You said you took a chance I might be here. I had to see the department shrink, and I asked for the afternoon off. I’ve been sitting here thinking, and yes, I’m waiting for my company. The good news today is I don’t have to go back to the shrink for a month.
“You must be here for a reason. What are you willing to contribute?”
“Not much. I spent the entire morning talking to every cop and detective I could corner. I wanted them to know I was no sleeping tiger where the case is concerned. In my own way I let them know if they wanted to slack off or sweep stuff under the rug, that wasn’t my style. Most of them know me, and know I don’t give up even when the trail is cold. The best I could hope for was that they would start buzzing among themselves. I had the feeling a couple of them—not Dutch or Joe, but the others—were spooked when word filtered down that Will Fargo died. It wasn’t anything anyone said because no one said anything. It was more like they grew quiet or their facial features drew inward. Does that make sense? So, when are we going to share and pool our resources?” he asked bluntly.
Lizzie’s mind raced. She would spend the entire night talking and drinking wine with the girls. They’d sleep till the better part of the afternoon. “How about breakfast tomorrow morning? I’ll meet you at Becker’s. Is seven-thirty good for you?”
“Yep. I run at six. Seven-thirty it is.”
“Nathan, if I give you something, can I trust you with it? By that I mean you won’t try to go off and run with it or try to use it for a byline. If you do, I’ll kill you. This is completely off the record, okay.”
“Off the record is okay. Of course you can trust me. What is it?”
“Wait here.” Lizzie ran into the house and pulled her shoulder bag off the coatrack. She rummaged till she found Tom’s notebook, which she had copied and mailed to Aggie, and Aggie’s. She hoped she was doing the right thing by giving them to Nathan. Let him decipher Tom’s squiggles and Aggie’s own neat notes. Maybe he would come up with something she’d missed. She’d pored over the notebook for hours and hadn’t come up with a thing.
Nathan stared at the two notebooks. “Are these the proverbial smoking guns?”
“Could be. Just remember that Will Fargo was in charge of the evidence locker and the vault. Today I asked him if Dutch set us up, and he said yes. He was dying, so I don’t know if I heard him right. He did try to
tell me something else, but I couldn’t make out the word. It could have been the word cards, lard, or maybe even the word hard. It didn’t make any sense to me, and his brother who was there didn’t understand it either. It was awful. He really struggled to tell me and then…and then…he flat-lined. It was a terrible sound.
“I was running across the parking lot in the rain and plowed right into Joe Sonders, who was on his way up to see Will. That meeting wasn’t very pleasant either. Figure all this out, and we’ll talk at breakfast. By the way, I had a nice time last night. Thanks again for bringing dinner. You’re good company, Nathan.”
Nathan grinned as he jammed the notebooks into his pocket. “I guess that was a compliment, right?”
Lizzie laughed. “It was. Do you think it’s ever going to stop raining?”
“On the news this morning, the weatherman said it’s going to rain for three more days. I have a canoe, so don’t worry.”
“Gee, that makes me feel better.”
“I know you’re waiting for your company, so I’ll leave and get on this right away. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lizzie was half out of the wicker chair when Nathan leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. She gave in to the moment and enjoyed every minute of the long kiss.
“You taste like strawberries,” Nathan said, his eyes slightly glazed.
“It’s the lipstick. You tasted like mint,” Lizzie said, her eyes just as glazed.
Lizzie watched in amazement as Nathan leaped over the banister instead of using the steps. He landed with a cursing thump. Alice barked and raced down the steps.
“I was trying to impress you with my agility. I forgot about this bush. I think Gus is starting to like me again.”
Lizzie stifled her laughter. “I’m impressed. Gus thinks you’re hurt. He’s an old softie. I’ll see you in the morning, Nathan.” She watched as he limped away to his car. The reporter knew how to kiss, that was for sure. She was still tingling.
They blew into the house like a whirlwind, the three of them laughing and giggling like young girls. The hugs, the kisses, the ooohs and aaahs over Aggie’s house made Lizzie laugh with joy. Alice joined the fray, running from one to the other to get petted and scratched.
“Alice, this is Noreen Farrell, Candy Lyons, and Honey Buxton. All are famous dancers at the Mirage. Show them what a lady you are and shake hands.” The girls dutifully shook the big dog’s paw, loving every minute of the solemn byplay.
“As you can see, it’s pretty miserable outside. I say we make a fire, order some pizza with the works, and crack open some wine. While I do the fire and the ordering, go on upstairs and shed those fancy duds. You gotta look like me,” Lizzie said, pointing to the yellow sweats and purple slippers she’d donned after Nathan left.
“Girl, you are pitiful-looking. But comfortable,” Candy said hastily.
“Wash off the makeup and let your face breathe. This is girl time. I have some secrets to share with you.” Lizzie stared at her friends. Did they always look so…garish? In Vegas, with all the artificial lighting, they looked beautiful and stylish. Here in Aggie’s little house they looked like high-priced hookers with their heavy makeup, spandex dresses, and spikeheeled shoes. Was she herself perceived the same way? She remembered the way Aggie had flinched when she saw her. It was obvious now that Vegas and Atlanta were at opposite ends of the fashion spectrum.
“Okay,” the dancers chirped in unison as they made their way to the second floor and Aggie’s guest rooms.
Lizzie sat for a moment after they left. They were her friends, and she adored them. They were kind and generous and would do anything for her. Even if it meant giving her their last dollar. They were showgirls, pure and simple. They all shared the same dream as most of the other showgirls: Find a high roller with money to burn and get married. So far it hadn’t happened. More likely than not it would never happen. When their dancing legs and hips gave out, they’d end up taking some menial job to make ends meet if they hadn’t managed to amass a nest egg. Nest eggs were something they talked about a lot, but with half their salaries going to fancy clothes and makeup by the pound, it wasn’t easy to save for a rainy day. Pension funds and health insurance were something they could only dream about. At best, they had a few years to go before that happened. The thought saddened her.
Her shoulders slumped as she walked through the kitchen to the back porch. She carried in two huge armfuls of wood and dumped it by the fireplace. Within minutes she had a blaze going. Another trip to the kitchen for the wine and the glasses. Her last trip was to call the pizza parlor’s number from the magnet on the refrigerator. She ordered two large pies with the works and one plain with extra cheese that would be delivered within the hour. She stuck money from her purse in her pocket to pay for the pies. She settled down on the floor on a pile of brand-new harem pillows. Did Aggie hang out on the floor with the pillows or were they just for show? There was so much about her sister she didn’t know. Well, that was all going to change.
And then they were taking their places beside her on the floor, their faces scrubbed shiny and clean. They weren’t beautiful, but they were pretty. Any one of them could have passed for Aggie’s next-door neighbor. They were dressed now in slippers and lounging robes of varying colors. Their hair was either piled high on their heads or pulled back in ponytails.
Lizzie poured the wine, then held her glass aloft. “Let’s drink to good friends.” Glasses clinked, the girls smiled and gulped.
“Gather round, girls. I am going to share some secrets with you,” Lizzie whispered as she laid her gun in the middle of the circle. “My name is Aggie, and I’m a cop! Now listen up.”
Chapter Seven
The women stared at Lizzie. As one, their gazes dropped to the deadly-looking gun in the middle of the floor.
“You’re joking, right?” Noreen said uneasily.
“You’re a professional gambler. You can’t be a cop,” Candy said.
“What do you mean your name is Aggie? Where’d you get a gun like that?” Honey demanded. “Do you have handcuffs, too?”
Lizzie’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Listen to me. You all know I have a twin sister who’s a cop. Her name is Aggie in case your forgot. I try not to talk about her too much. In my line of work bragging about a cop sister isn’t something you do. Telling friends is okay. Aggie never told anyone about me because in her line of work, a professional gambler would come up short and probably throw some kind of suspicion on her.
“Six months ago she was wounded in the line of duty. Her partner was killed; Aggie almost died. She just got out of rehab last week. Her K-9 dog was wounded, too, and almost died. They never found the guys who did it. Aggie isn’t one hundred percent yet. She asked me to come and take over for her. There are no words to tell you what I feel about all this. Every time I think about how someone tried to kill my sister I go berserk. If it’s the last thing I ever do in this lifetime, I am going to find out who did it and make sure I get to face them in a court of law. Someone has to pay for what Aggie and Gus went through. I’m in the right frame of mind to make that happen, too.
“How could I say no?
“Aggie gave me a crash course in police procedure and wanted me to take her place so the trail to the killers didn’t get any colder than it is. The world usually stops when a cop gets killed. But not this time. Aggie was set up, that’s the bottom line.
“In the few days that I’ve been here, I’ve had threatening phone calls and someone tried to kill me yesterday. One of the cops in question was hit head-on and died this morning. I don’t know if that was a real accident, or if they tried to take him out, too. That’s cop lingo. This dog lying here with us is Alice. She’s a stand-in for Aggie’s dog. By the way, she loves me. And, I met a man. He’s a reporter here in Atlanta. Man, can he kiss. Curled my toes, I can tell you that. There’s more. Mr. Papadopolus wants me to schedule a…game here. I can’t get it through his head that this isn’t Vegas. It’s a
gainst the law. High rollers. Big-time. Bushels of money. I could go to jail for a very long time if I’m caught. I don’t even want to think about the part where I’m impersonating a police officer. I fooled Aggie’s shrink, though. Any questions?”
They all started to talk at once. “Jail. Orange suits. No makeup or hair gel, no pedicures. Greasy, fattening food.”
“What do you want us to do?” Noreen asked.
Trading Places Page 11
