by Cathie Linz
“I don’t have time to take off.”
“Sure you do. You’re the boss. Who’s going to say no to you?”
“Me.”
“Let’s get a second opinion,” Faith said as her uncle joined them. “Uncle Dave, don’t you think it would be a great idea if Dad and Mom took off on a romantic getaway for their anniversary?”
Her uncle eyed her uncertainly. “Is this a trick question?”
“No,” Faith said.
“You see, he doesn’t think I should leave either,” her dad said.
“He didn’t say that. Aunt Lorraine said you wouldn’t have the gumption to go,” Faith said, hoping to goad her dad into proving her wrong.
“I doubt she said gumption. She probably said I didn’t have the balls to go. And I don’t care.”
“What’s so important here that you couldn’t get away?” Faith demanded.
“A number of things.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me about them.”
“There’s no time. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes.”
“Uncle Dave, tell him to take a vacation.”
“Take a vacation,” her uncle obediently said.
“There, you see? Your brother agrees with me.”
“I’ll think about it,” her dad said absently.
“You will not. You’ve already wiped it from your memory banks. This is important, Dad. You really need to focus on this idea, okay?”
“I said I’d think about it, and I will.” Now he sounded irritated.
Fine. She was irritated too. The least he could do was cooperate with her here. She was trying to save his marriage. Not that she could tell him that.
Her dad had always been an uber-workaholic, but her mom was right. Now that Faith was tuned in, she was picking up weird vibes from her dad. Not necessarily “I’m cheating” vibes, not that she was sure she’d know what those were like coming from her dad. But she was getting the feeling that he was hiding something.
She could tell she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him right now, so she withdrew from his office and cornered Gloria later that morning. Casually cornered her.
“My dad seems a little more stressed than usual,” Faith said with daughterly concern, which wasn’t faked. She truly was concerned. “Do you think my botched wedding upset him more than he let on?”
Gloria shrugged, her shoulders broader than usual in her poppy red sweater set. “As if I know what goes on in that mind of his.”
“Come on, Gloria. You are such an astute woman, and you’ve known my father for ages . . . I mean a long time,” she hurriedly edited. The frown on Gloria’s face clearly indicated that she didn’t like the “ages” reference. “What do you think is the cause of his raised stress level?”
“I’ll tell you one thing I do know for sure. Your father has raised my stress level. He was always impatient, but now . . .”
“Gloria!” he bellowed from his office. “Where’s that file I asked for?”
“I e-mailed it to you five minutes ago,” she yelled back before returning her attention to Faith. “You see? It’s little things like that. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. And I’m not the only one who has noticed. Your uncle made a comment about it. A very oblique comment, because that’s how Dave is. But still . . . you know it has to be pretty noticeable for Dave to see it, because he’s off in his own math world most of the time.”
“Thanks, Gloria.” Faith grabbed her uncle’s arm as he left her father’s office. “Let’s talk.”
“I’m really busy . . .”
“I know you are, but you have to eat lunch.”
“I eat lunch at my desk.”
“That’s not good for you.”
“Has Megan been talking to you?” he asked suspiciously.
“No. Why would she? Is something wrong?”
“My cholesterol levels were a little high. Tell her I’m eating a healthy lunch, even if it is at my desk.”
Faith was alarmed by this news about her uncle’s health. “Did the doctor put you on medication?”
“No, no. My numbers are slightly elevated, that’s all. No need to get upset.”
“Is my dad upset because he’s worried about your health?”
“He’s upset because he’s your dad.”
“So it is my fault.”
“No, that didn’t come out right. What I meant is that your dad is always upset. That’s just the way he is. And, yes, he seems a tad more . . . irritable, shall we say.”
“Do you think it’s because of Vince King?”
“I’m sure their vendetta isn’t helping.”
And it probably wasn’t helping that Caine was out there accusing her father of having botched the Karl Hunter investigation. That meant the sooner Faith proved Caine wrong, the better.
Friday night, and Faith had a big date. Not with a hot guy but hopefully with Weldon. She’d dressed for the occasion. Her colorful batik halter top showed off her tanned shoulders, while the black skirt she’d paired with it showed enough leg to keep things interesting.
The weather had turned hot and muggy, and storms were predicted for later in the evening. Her favorite WGN weatherman had warned viewers that some could turn severe. Her outfit was designed to keep her comfortable in what could turn into an uncomfortable situation, depending on so many things out of her control.
Faith was not surprised to find Caine casually lounging a few doors down from a northside Indian restaurant celebrating its grand reopening tonight.
The small eatery was a favorite of the elusive Weldon’s. Faith could only hope that the third time of trying to find him would be lucky. She also hoped that Caine wouldn’t repeat his previous distraction technique of grabbing her and kissing her or giving her an under-the-table orgasm.
She needn’t have worried. Caine’s scowl wasn’t the least bit welcoming.
“Are you trying to irritate me?” he growled.
“I’m trying to solve this case,” she said.
“No, you’re trying to convince yourself that your father didn’t botch it.”
“My father may not have actually conducted the entire investigation himself—”
“Doesn’t matter. He signed off on it.”
“Because it seemed like an open-and-shut case—”
“Seemed like? Are you leaving some room for doubt here?”
“I’ve got plenty of doubts, and most of them center around you.”
His scowl disappeared as he gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Been thinking about me again, huh?”
She looked away to prevent herself from kissing that smile off his lips. “Get over yourself.” That’s when she caught sight of a young man with a White Sox cap pulled low. The baseball cap got her attention, but the face beneath it cemented the deal. “Hey, that’s him.”
“Wait here.” Caine took off.
“No way.” She took off right after him. She was wearing athletic shoes meant for fast chases. She’d come prepared tonight.
“Hey Weldon, can I talk to you for a minute?” Caine said.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Faith reassured the nervous-looking Weldon. He reminded her a little of Aunt Lorraine’s Chihuahua: skinny, gangly and high-strung. His hands were tucked into the pockets of striped shorts that clashed with his plaid short-sleeved shirt, while his white socks and sandals would make a fashionista cry. On the positive side, he had really nice green eyes, and his glasses were no longer held together with tape.
“So you’re a White Sox fan, huh, Weldon?” she said. “Me too.”
Caine wasn’t about to let her use baseball to upstage him again. “My name is Caine Hunter. You worked with my father, Dr. Karl Hunter.”
“Caine is a Cubs fan,” Faith told Weldon.
“I’m really not into baseball,” Weldon mumbled. “Somebody left this hat on the bus.”
“Still, you were smart enough to pick it up,” she said. “That shows you are very smart. Bril
liant, some would say.”
“Would you stop with the fake compliments?” Caine glared at her.
She blinked at him with feigned innocence. “They are not fake. Are you calling Weldon stupid?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’ve been told by people who know that Weldon here is a brilliant man.”
Weldon stood a little straighter. “Who told you that?”
“People who work with you.”
Weldon’s expression turned suspicious. “Why are you talking to people I work with? Do I know you?”
“Not yet, but I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Weldon.” She gave him a thousand-watt smile.
“Don’t trust her,” Caine said. “Her father is the one who drove my dad to do what he did. She’s just using you to get back at me.”
“That’s not true!” Faith said.
“Weldon, if you had any respect for my father, then you’ll work with me,” Caine said.
“I did respect your father a great deal,” Weldon said.
Confidence radiated from Caine. “Then work with me.”
“Look, we all want the same thing here,” Faith said.
“I doubt that,” Caine said.
“We want the truth.”
“You only want to prove that your rich daddy was right.”
“And you only want to prove that your father was innocent.”
Faith glared at Caine.
Caine glared at Faith.
It took both of them a moment to realize that Weldon was gone.
Anger flew over Caine’s face. “Shit. Where did he go?”
“He took off,” Faith said. “Can you blame him?”
“Hell yes.”
“If you’d done your research, you’d know that Weldon doesn’t deal well with social confrontations.”
“Tough shit.”
“That’s very empathetic of you. Obviously you scared him away.”
“Me? You’re the one who keeps getting in the way of my investigation. Why are you doing that? To prevent me from finding out what really happened?”
“I could say that you are obstructing my investigation,” she said.
“Does your daddy know yet that you’re sticking your nose into this case?”
The look on her face was answer enough. “Which should prove I’m not doing anything on his behalf,” she said.
“No, it just means you’re sneaking around behind his back.”
“Pitiful,” a new gravelly voice stated. “You call yourselves investigators? Amateurs. I hate dealing with amateurs.”
Chapter Twelve
“ Who the hell are you?” Caine demanded.
“I’m a much better investigator than the two of you, that’s for dang sure. The name’s Buddy Doyle, and I’ve been working as a gumshoe long before either one of you was born. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame was my great-grandfather.”
Faith was impressed. “Really?”
“Nah, but it makes a good story.”
Buddy was a study in gray: gray cardigan, gray sweat-pants, gray hair. He looked old and cranky, like one of those garden gnomes out to make trouble. His vivid blue eyes displayed his aggravation, while the wrinkles on his face said this was a man who’d seen it all and hadn’t been impressed by any of it.
“Are you saying you’re investigating my father’s case? Who hired you?” Caine demanded.
“I’m not saying anything. You two have done enough talking for an army. Amateurs.” Buddy shook his head.
“What’s your connection to this case?” Caine said.
“You’re an investigator,” Buddy replied. “You figure it out.”
“I will. But it would save time if you told me now.”
“Is that your way of saying that I’ve got one foot in death’s doorway and the next foot on a banana peel?” Buddy said.
Caine blinked, clearly unfamiliar with the saying. “Huh?”
“I hired Buddy,” Weldon said, reappearing as quickly as he’d disappeared.
“It’s none of their beeswax, kid,” Buddy told Weldon, putting a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder while continuing his glare at Caine and Faith.
“That one says he’s Karl’s son,” Weldon said, pointing at Caine.
“Show me some ID,” Buddy told Caine before turning to Faith. “And what about you, cupcake? Who do you claim to be?”
“Her name is Faith West,” Caine said on her behalf. “Her father owns West Investigations.”
Buddy’s bushy eyebrows rose. “The bozos who messed up the investigation and pinned the blame on Karl?”
“Did you know my father?” Caine asked.
“No, but I know Weldon, and he says Karl the Chemist was innocent. I believe him.”
“Based on what facts?” Faith demanded.
“The fact that Weldon says Karl didn’t do it,” Buddy replied.
“Then how do you explain the fact that a sizable amount of money ended up in an offshore account in Karl’s name?” Faith demanded.
“Part of the scam,” Buddy said. “Did you bother to see where that money is now?”
Faith nervously nibbled on her bottom lip. “Well . . . uh . . . no . . . uh, not yet.”
“It was transferred out within hours of my father’s death,” Caine said.
“By you?”
“No, not by me.”
“I don’t understand,” Faith said. “Who else had access to that account? I didn’t see anyone else’s name on it.”
“It was transferred to a holding company, which transferred it to another holding company,” Caine said. “Pretty complicated paper trail.”
“Karl barely had the patience to balance his own checkbook,” Weldon said. “He was not a banking expert. No way.”
“Wasn’t your ex-fiancé a banker?” Caine asked Faith.
“Yes, but he couldn’t have had anything to do with this case. I hadn’t even met him yet when the situation with your father occurred. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d be involved. You’re not being logical.”
“She’s probably right, but I’ll check it out anyway,” Buddy said. “What’s this bozo’s name?”
“Alan Anderson,” Caine said.
She smacked Caine’s arm. Hard. “Stop doing that.”
He didn’t even blink let alone flinch. “Doing what?”
“Answering for me,” she said. “I can speak for myself.”
“Maybe we should go inside,” Weldon said nervously. “And talk about things.”
“And eat,” Buddy said. “I’m starving.”
“Some of the food here may be a little too spicy for you,” Weldon said.
“You mean for an old geezer like me? Don’t you worry. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach.” Buddy patted his abdomen proudly.
They entered the crowded establishment and were shown to a table for four in the back. Studying the menu, Faith asked Weldon, “I see they describe themselves as specializing in Indian and Nepali cuisine. What are some of your favorites?”
“Vegetable korma, any kind of curry, aloo ghobi. And of course the naan and the raita and all the condiments.”
They ordered an assortment of appetizers for starters—from vegetable samosa to chicken momo, dumplings filled with grilled chicken marinated in garlic, ginger and Nepali spices. They also added a selection of tandoori appetizers at Weldon’s insistence.
“Tandoori is marinated meat cooked in a very hot tan-door, which is a clay oven with a really hot fire inside,” Weldon said.
“The kid knows all kinds of trivia like that,” Buddy said proudly.
“So does Faith,” Caine said.
For their main courses, Faith and Caine both ordered the tandoori roasted chicken. The more adventurous Buddy ordered the spicy shrimp vindaloo, while Weldon went with his favorite, the spicy kerala fish curry.
The appetizers were a big hit, but it was the main course that really made an impression . . . on Buddy.
“S
on of a . . . buck!” Buddy reached for his bottle of Bud even as his eyes watered and his face turned red. “That’s hot!”
“I tried to warn you,” Weldon said.
“I know. That was close. I almost broke my vow. I gave up cursing, you know,” Buddy said.
“For Lent? We’re past that now,” Weldon said.
“Not for Lent. For good,” Buddy said.
“An interesting choice,” Caine said. “Why’d you make it?”
“It’s personal,” Buddy growled in that gravelly voice of his. “Let’s stick to the case. I’m assuming we all know that Fred Belkin died of a brain tumor last year.”
“Was there anything suspicious about his death?” Caine asked.
“Not that I could find. Why?” Buddy asked. “What are you thinking? That someone is knocking off everyone involved with the biofuel project?”
“That would include me,” Weldon said with a gulp.
“Don’t panic yet, boyo,” Buddy told him.
“I know you think Karl wasn’t guilty, but do you think he would commit suicide?” Faith had to ask.
“I don’t know,” Weldon said.
“Why have you been hiding out, Weldon?” Faith said. “Avoiding your apartment and work?”
“Because someone has been following me.”
“You were already out of your apartment and off work when I started trailing you,” Faith said.
“Same here,” Caine said. “Did you see the person trailing you?”
“No, but I did,” Buddy said. “Unfortunately I didn’t get a good look at him. Medium height, medium build, his shoulders were a little hunched like he spent time bent over books or something. He didn’t have the military bearing that Caine here has.”
“Unless Caine is going undercover,” Faith said. “In which case he can hunch his shoulders with the best of them.”
“You were in the Marines, right, Caine?” Buddy said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I was in the army myself,” Buddy said. “You Devil Dogs are a crazy bunch.”
“We like to think so, sir.”
“So where are you staying now, Weldon?” Faith asked.
“Somewhere safe,” Buddy said.
“What about the other guy? Nolan? Could he be following you?” Caine asked.
“I doubt it,” Weldon said. “Yeah, he was angry that the project was canceled after Karl’s death. The company that stole the information went bankrupt and never followed up on the biofuel ideas.”
