The younger Mister Wheeler is coming to London for questions and to pick up the body when we release it. I doubt he’ll be helpful if he’s telling the truth about not seeing his father since he was a child, but we’ll see. No other relative that we can find. A lot of ex-friends that were investors are around. Surprisingly, some are not angry, but sad that he was murdered.”
“Sounds like you’re on top of information on Wheeler. That chap must have had an interesting life.”
Holmes took a hearty drink of his applejack before asking, “What do you think of the food?”
“Damn good. I could get hooked on this applejack stuff,” Jordan said, smacking his lips. “Never heard of this in the States.”
“By the way, did the FBI find anything of interest while investigating Wheeler’s girlfriends?”
Gould smiled wickedly and reached into his briefcase and took out a group of pictures.
“Interesting, oh yes. But pertinent to the case? No, except for the last girlfriend. The Chinese one they are trailing. Loads of fun stuff to find on the Internet. It’s shameful, really, how it makes our jobs so much easier.”
“Yes, and complicated at times.”
“Well, there ain’t nothing’ complicated about this. Take a gander,” Jordan said, and he handed the photographs to Holmes.
Holmes’s face turned crimson as his eyes fell on pictures of naked bodies, one of which was clearly Josh Wheeler. Wheeler lay entwined with at least three young women on a large bed in what may have been a hotel. Holmes quickly turned three of the pictures face down. He was still somewhat of a prude, even though he had seen much as a police officer.
“This chap fancied himself a Hugh Hefner? I hope the papers don’t get hold of those pictures. How old did you say he was?”
“Around the same age as Lori Brill. And yes, the press would have a field day,” Jordan said, sneering. “That Wheeler knew how to live, two or three girls at a time, and all of them young. My guys are trying to question his most recent friends and girlfriends. I’m sure we are missing many. I think he had one in every port.”
Holmes looked up, resting his hand on his chin.
“I think I’ll go out to have another talk with Mrs. Brill,” Jordan said, after taking another drink of applejack.
Holmes held up his glass and grinned. “You know what I think? I think you fancy that girl, Cate. She gave you a proper tongue lashing.”
“Yeah, she got her panties in a bunch, as you Brits say.”
“Knickers in a twist,” Holmes corrected, smiling. “Still, I think you want to see her again. I saw you admiring her.”
Jordan put down his glass, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Yeah, well, what’s not to admire? She is lovely, passionate, fiery…”
“Yes, she is very protective of her grandmother. And she is unavailable."
"Yeah, Lori mentioned Cate is engaged to that stuffy Lunt. No way that will happen as long as I'm around!"
Chapter 13
After Lori left for the lunch meeting with Joseph’s father, Cate took off on errands. It was Saturday, and she had the day off from school, though she did have a paper due on Monday. With everything that was going on, it was hard to concentrate on school. She couldn’t wait to get her master’s degree and get back to work as a lawyer.
Cate pulled up to her flat a while later, parked the Bentley in the driveway, exited, and went to the boot to get her bags of groceries, shoving her keys into the slit pocket of her pin-straight black Capri pants. She was busy concentrating on the dinner she planned to make.
I think I’ll bake the cod so the house won’t smell of fish, then prepare the asparagus with cheese, she thought.
Cate didn’t see him. Her peripheral vision detected something, but she paid no attention to it until suddenly she was grabbed, lifted, and dragged away from the car towards the house.
“Get in the house now!”
Fear gripped her heart until she realized who it was. She turned around, furious.
“Get your hands off of me, Mr. Gould!”
“I have no time for this.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “Get the keys out, and open the door. Quickly!” He gave her a push towards the door, causing her to drop her bag of groceries. Ignoring the mess, he turned and drew his gun, shielding her body with his. He roughly slipped his thick fingers into the pocket of her Capris and, tugging at her pants, pulled out the keys and shook them before her. “Come on, come on, open the door.”
“You son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cate looked around and, in her periphery, saw a man rush into a black car across the street. She instinctively clutched her purse close to her chest.
“Would you just shut up and listen to me?” Gould eyed the man in the car, then turned to Cate and stared hard into her eyes. “Open. The. Fucking. Door!”
Cate fumbled with the keys but managed to get the door open. In an instant, Jordan had shoved her into the house and down onto the floor of the foyer. Keeping his hand on his gun, he watched the black car speed off down the street. He locked the door behind him.
“For fuck’s sake, shut up and stay down.”
Cate began yelling a string of obscenities at Jordan from her sprawled position.
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”
“Are you crazy? Am I supposed to be thanking you for something?” Cate rose from the floor and took a few swings at Jordan, who deflected her attack as best he could while securing the house. Following Jordan about the living room, she continued to hit and scratch him.
Jordan, having placed his gun safely in its holster, finally grabbed Cate’s hands to stop her assault. “Will you keep quiet and let me explain?”
“You better have a good explanation, Mr. Gould!” Cate answered as he released her. She had become aware that her body had reacted to his touch, which made her exceptionally irritated. She moved as far away from him as possible.
Before explaining, he pulled the curtains back a fraction and looked out the window. They’re gone. Then he turned to Cate, who stood with hands on her hips, her blue eyes narrowed in anger.
“There was supposed to be a car outside, watching your house all day. Did you see that guy? Running to his car?”
“Yes. He was parked across the street from my house. He was there when I left today.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. I just nodded at him before I left for my errands. He stayed in his car. What is this about?”
“That wasn’t our guy. I watched him for a while. Right before you drove up, he opened his car door and started walking towards you. When I showed up, he raced back into the car. He just drove away.”
“You’re really crazy,” Cate answered with a smirk on her face. “That’s the car from Scotland Yard, protecting us.” Smoothing out her white shirt and her hair, Cate looked directly at him. “I intend to bring charges against you for assault.” Then, in a flash, she moved towards him and slapped him across the face.
“Assault?!” He rubbed at his burning cheek with his palm. He faced her, and in a stern voice he said, “Listen, I told you, I don’t have time for your bullshit. Nice way to listen to an officer of the law, by the way. Good way to get yourself killed.”
“I’m fine!”
Jordan made a quick call for backup, and then turned to Cate.
“Yeah, you’re fine. No thanks to your acting like a madwoman. Some lawyer you’ll make.”
“I’m not in the habit of listening to assailants who manhandle me and shove me to the ground!”
“I should say not,” Jordan said, scowling. “You are in the habit of going off half-cocked, though. That’s evident. You’re a fucking pro at that. I assumed you’ve had plenty of practice. Jesus, look at me!” He looked down at the bleeding scratches on his arms and shook his head.
“You are wasting my time, Mister Gould. You scared away the bad guy. Now, go!”
Jordan ignored her and continued inspecting his arm
s. “My men are watching the house from the side street, and…”
Standing up straighter and folding her arms across her chest, Cate stomped her foot and yelled, “I demand to know what is going on! I wish you would just leave us alone, and keep my grandmother out of all this!”
“I tried to explain. The black Renault outside your house wasn’t our car. Our car followed the car that picked up your grandmother, and I didn’t put her in any of this trouble, she did! Wheeler’s to blame for all this bullshit. Not me, these folks tripping up our plans to keep an eye on you women. Well, somebody else is hard at work here, and your grandmother’s boyfriend was in it up to his fucking—”
Before he could say another word, Cate flashed him a warning sign. “He wasn’t her boyfriend. And she’s with Lord Lunt at his estate. You should know that. I thought you had a tracking device on her!”
“Yes, we put a tracking device on her cell phone. Could you check to make sure she took it and then call her? I’d really appreciate that,” Jordan answered after taking a deep breath.
While Jordan went into the bathroom to wash off his arms and look for bandages for the deep cuts Cate caused with her nails, Cate went upstairs to check on Lori’s cell phone. When she returned to the first floor, she approached the bathroom with a worried look on her face.
“She forgot her cell. It’s still upstairs attached to the charger. What’s wrong with you?” Cate grimaced at the sight of Gould, although she was no longer angry with him.
Jordan scowled, glancing down at his arms as he scoured Cate’s medicine cabinet. “You are a hellcat, that’s what’s wrong. Some of these cuts are deep.”
“You’ll be fine. It’s my grandmother I’m worried about!”
“Help me find some bandages, please, and call Lord Lunt to make sure your grandmother made her lunch date. Hopefully, all is well,” he said, trying to remain calm and not wanting to scare her.
Cate sneered wickedly as she reached into the cabinet and retrieved a box of bandages from a small drawer. “Next time, I’ll send you to the hospital,” she said, handing him the box.
Jordan had had enough of this woman’s attitude. But he couldn’t blame her; she didn’t really know what was happening.
“Call Lord Lunt’s house. Your grandmother could be in serious danger.”
Cate rolled her eyes. She guessed her grandmother was with the Lunts and Jordan Gould was simply being dramatic. If a car had really followed Lunt’s chauffeur, it would have probably gotten lost on the unfamiliar narrow winding country roads leading to Lord Lunt’s estate. Bly was equipped with a mobile, so he could always call for help. Then again, she thought, if Jordan’s men had followed Bly, he could have lost them, too.
Picking up her mobile, Cate rang the estate. “Hello, Julian,” she said to Lord Lunt’s private secretary. “Could I interrupt lunch and talk to my grandmother for a minute?” Cate turned white. “Julian, are you telling me my grandmother never reached the Lunts’ estate?”
Jordan grabbed the phone out of Cate’s hands. “This is Jordan Gould from the FBI and Scotland Yard. Get me Mr. Lunt.”
Julian answered, “I’m sorry, sir, but my lord wishes not to be disturbed.”
Jordan stamped his foot, and yelled into the phone, “Goddamn it, get the master of the house on the phone now! This is the FBI.” Jordan, with a stunned expression on his face, stood absolutely still while holding the phone in his right hand. “The bastard hung up the phone! I’ll have him arrested!”
Cate took the phone from Jordan. “The English do not like bloody asshole Americans.”
“Cate,” Jordan replied, exasperated, “I’m not an asshole. Your grandmother may have been kidnapped. Do you understand that much? We need to know if they heard from their chauffeur.”
Now panicked, Cate called back with shaking hands and managed to get Sir Roger Lunt on the line. She quickly handed the phone to Jordan.
“Mr. Lunt, we believe Lori and your driver may have been kidnapped. Have you heard from him?”
Sir Lunt answered, “Good gracious, this is serious. No, we haven’t heard from him, nor does he answer his mobile phone. I just assumed they were detained by car trouble, perhaps a flat tire, which is why Bly couldn’t answer when Julian called him.”
“I’m sending a man to your house. We may have a very serious situation.” Jordan hung up with Lunt and speed-dialed another number. His expression grew grave when no one answered his call. “Detective Inspector Isaacs isn’t answering his phone.”
Shortly, there came a sharp knock at the door, followed by a curt, “Scotland Yard, sir!” Jordan opened the door, and two constables entered
“Good.” Jordan turned to Cate, who’d collapsed on a chair and sat nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. “I won’t leave you alone.”
“What is going on? Where is my grandmother? She can’t be kidnapped.” Cate wiped the palms of her hands on her pants. Her eyes were pleading with Jordan to tell her it wasn’t so. Now she was having a difficult time accepting the dangerous events that had taken over her life in the last week. Things were happening to her family that she had only read about in books or had seen on the TV, Internet, or in the movies.
“When we know, we’ll tell you.” Jordan’s expression matched Cate’s deflated look as he thought, Confident and strong during stress, attractive without makeup or fancy clothes… She is my match, hellcat or no. Pain in the ass…
He opened the door to leave, stopped, glanced at his bandaged arms half-concealed by his long-sleeved shirt, and looked at the constables assigned to stay with Cate. “Be careful,” he warned.
“I’ll keep her safe, sir, no worries,” one of the constables replied confidently.
“It’s not her I’m worried about.”
***
Jordan Gould acted cool, but he was actually in a panic. The possible murder of the Brill woman was the last thing he needed now. He had been surprised when, out of nine agents working on the Wheeler case, he had been chosen to work with Scotland Yard. This meant that for the first time in his seven years at the Hoover FBI office in Washington, D.C. he would be reporting directly to the office of the Director of the FBI. It also meant that the men who had followed Wheeler to London with orders to pick him up after he emptied his safe deposit boxes were now reporting directly to him. Unfortunately, when Wheeler changed plans and went to the Palace, they were just watching the hotel and were not on his floor. Too bad. It had all been set up; one agent was assigned to take the bellboy’s place and deliver the breakfast tray. But Wheeler was murdered before that could take place. Someone was always one step ahead of them. He had to figure out whom that someone was.
Now that Jordan was in London, he realized how different Scotland Yard and the FBI worked. He had to watch what he said and move more slowly than at home.
He checked out Lori’s mobile, looking for any unusual calls. There were some new unknown ones that better be checked out, though he suspected they would turn out to be from a throwaway phone. Too bad the woman left the tracker phone on the charger. How could she be so careless? Senior moment, he thought wryly. He was concerned over the possible loss of Richard Townsend and Arthur Isaacs, the two men assigned to follow the car carrying Mrs. Brill. There was no reason, though, to jump to the conclusion that they had killed Mrs. Brill. If these men were in such hot pursuit to find something, killing everyone in sight would not help their search. Holmes’ men just got in the way, that’s all. Damn it. Did they get too close? His own men were watching the airport, in case anyone connected to Wheeler was coming to or leaving London.
***
Roland stepped up to the black, nondescript car that held the bodies of Inspectors Arthur Isaacs and Richard Townsend. He paused a while to inspect his work; both officers had been shot in the head. Clean shots. Roland prided himself on good aim, but he felt especially proud of hitting moving targets. These were the perks of the job. The adrenaline rush he needed.
The two officers had been trailing
the old woman and her driver, and it took nothing to overtake them, especially since they had slowed down upon gaining entrance to the estate grounds and had been oblivious to being followed. Roland had the curves in the road to thank for that.
After quickly maneuvering the unmarked police car into a secluded, wooded area, making sure it was not easily detected from the road, he returned to his car and slipped into the passenger side.
“Move,” he commanded. A young man behind the wheel turned gloomily away from Roland and proceeded along the tree-lined road that led in a meandering manner through the Lunt estate, past bridges, babbling brooks, thick forests, rolling green knolls, and, finally, to the Lunt mansion.
Roland fished for his cigarette pack in his front shirt pocket and lit a cigarette, humming a jaunty tune as the car followed the black Rolls Royce at a safe distance. Extreme wealth and privilege gave one a false sense of security. He reveled, as he always did, in the feeling of being the predator in this scenario, with this old bird and old geezer being the prey as they took their time taking in the magnificent view while the luxury sedan wended its way through the picturesque scenery. Sometimes this job was too easy, and he bemoaned its lack of sport. He wanted more challenging opportunities than this thinning of the herd. But fun was fun, and soon this sport would be almost over. He had to think of ways to prolong the adventure. After all, if one didn’t love his job, it ended up being a chore.
Chapter 14
Lori settled back into the plush seat of the Rolls Royce. Though she was traveling in style on her way to a lord’s country estate, uneasiness still encompassed her. Bly, dressed in a black chauffeur suit with a proper black cap covering a head of grey hair, had to be at least ten years older than Lori. He drove the car in a slow steady manner as they traveled along narrow country roads.
“How long have you been employed by Sir Lunt?”
“Oh, since the lord was a young man, ma’am. Started when his father was still alive. You know, ma’am, my lord still is able to keep his estate intact, while so many gents have sold out or turned their places into flats or tourist attractions.”
Murder Across The Ocean Page 9
