“Hello, I’m Beth’s friend. I’m afraid I can’t make any sense out of what she’s saying. Could you tell me what happened to her husband?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Copeland was killed last night in a fire at his house.”
“Oh, my God!” Sarah caught her breathe. “How did it happen?”
“We’re not sure, Ma’am. When the fire department got there they found Mr. Copeland and another man inside.”
“Another man? Who?”
“I’m afraid we haven’t identified the body yet, Ma’am.”
“Beth… Mrs. Copeland, shouldn’t be alone. She’s in shock. Is her mother there with her?”
“I believe her mother is on her way home now. I’ll stay with Mrs. Copeland until she gets here.”
“Thank you. How are her daughters taking it?”
A slight pause. “Better than their mother.”
Sarah exhaled. Her legs wobbled, she needed to sit down. “Okay good. Thank you. I’ll call Beth later to make sure she’s okay.”
Sarah gripped the wall for support as she made her way into the lounge. This was the room they used informally to watch TV, or rather she did. Kaz hardly ever watched TV. The formal lounge for entertaining guests was across the hall.
She sank into a comfy three-seater sofa and stared unseeing at the wall in front of her. Her mind was blank with shock. Rick dead. It was only last week she’d seen him. He’d been so kind, so cut up about Chris and Chef and the boating accident. Tears sprung into her eyes and she didn’t bother to stop them. Soon her face was wet with tears. Oh, poor Rick. What on earth had happened?
As the numbness wore off, questions crept in. How had the fire started? Was it an accident or was it deliberate? Could it be arson?
“Everything okay?”
She jumped as Kaz entered the room. What was he doing here? He never bothered to seek her out during the day.
“No, not really.” She sniffed, turning away to wipe her eyes. “I’ve just heard a friend of mine passed away last night.”
Kaz grimaced sympathetically. It was as close to a smile as she was likely to get. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who was it? Anyone I know?”
“No. It was someone I knew a long time ago, before we were married.”
He kissed her on the forehead. She cringed, his touch repulsed her. “Life goes on, I guess. Don’t forget dinner tonight. I’ve got some special guests coming. Here’s a list of eating requirements.”
Without looking back, he left the room. Sarah shivered and stuffed the note in her pocket. Whenever there were special requirements it meant out of town guests, usually from the Middle East. Fatigue drained her body. After Beth’s phone call she’d completely forgotten about dinner.
Somehow her sanctuary seemed tainted now. Her husband’s presence had infected the air around her, making her feel less safe, less secure than she had before. She got up to leave when she heard voices in the passage. Her husband’s and another she didn’t recognise. Or did she?
Poking her head around the door she saw the man from the party the other night. Mr. Crane. His back was to her. It was an impressive back, strong and broad, straining under a khaki T-shirt. He had a bandage wrapped around the top of his right arm. Had that been there the other night? No, she didn’t think so, but then he’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt so it would have been impossible to tell. She remembered the shirt because he’d been dressed so differently to the others. Then she noticed the gun and frowned. It was tucked into the back of his jeans. Was that necessary? She didn’t see the point of Kaz’s employees walking around with weapons like they were in the middle of a war zone. It was ridiculous. Especially in the house. Sure, they had some expensive art on the walls, but they’d never even had a break-in. But she knew better than to complain about it.
“It was necessary,” Crane said, his tone matter-of-fact. “What did you expect me to do?” Not many people spoke to Kaz that way. Sarah raised an eyebrow. This guy must have some sway with her husband. She wondered how they knew each other.
Her husband didn’t immediately reply. Even more intriguing. Kaz was never at a loss for words. He was the authoritative one, always in control. Suddenly Sarah was very interested in Mr. Crane.
The other night, when he’d introduced himself, she’d got the feeling he wanted her to know he’d been following her, and he was sorry for the hurt he’d caused. He’d said he didn’t know Kaz would hit her because of it – or something like that. Then he’d squeezed her hand. Subtle, but she definitely hadn’t imagined it. He seemed like a decent guy, but he also had her husband’s respect, and that was a rare thing indeed.
“Let’s discuss this in my study,” Kaz said and put a hand on Crane’s arm. The two men walked off down the passage to the back of the house where Kaz’s study was located.
In the study, Crane reconstructed the events of the night before for his employer. “I took care of Copeland like we arranged. Aneez was downstairs pouring gasoline everywhere. When I came down he lit the curtains and the place went up like a match box.”
Kaz listened intently, no expression in his dark stare.
“Smoke filled the room pretty fast, we had less than a minute to get out of there. Copeland didn’t stand a chance.” He held Kaz’s gaze. “Then the most bizarre thing happened. Your man took a shot at me. It was only a graze but the impact spun me around and I fell down. The idiot fired again. If I’d still been on my feet he would have killed me.” He gave Kaz a hard stare. “I don’t know why he shot me, except perhaps he resented my presence so he thought he’d kill two birds with one stone. Excuse the pun.”
Kaz didn’t so much as smirk.
Crane continued, “Maybe he was gonna tell you I wasn’t cooperating. That would be my guess.” He shrugged and touched his arm where it was bandaged. “So I shot him in the head and left him there to burn. There wasn’t time to get him out.”
Kaz leant back in his chair and glanced briefly up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what Aneez was playing at. It’s not like him to do something so… rash.” He scowled, and bit his lower lip. “He was a good man.”
That was highly debateable, but Crane didn’t argue. “Well, that’s how it happened. I had no choice, I had to take him out. You would have done the same thing under the circumstances. I only hope his body is too badly burned for forensics to fish the bullets out of him.”
Kaz raised both his eyebrows. “For your sake, I hope so too.”
“I used my gun, so if there’s any comeback I’ll know about it.”
Kaz nodded, satisfied nothing could be traced back to him. He tapped the middle finger of his right hand on the desk to some imaginary rhythm. “I called the police this morning. They confirmed two bodies were discovered in the wreckage. Mr. Copeland and another unidentified man.” He hesitated then added, “It’ll take them some time to ID Aneez, if they manage to.”
Crane didn’t ask why. He could guess. Illegal immigrant, ex-mercenary, no green card, no passport and therefore no ID. Kaz probably paid him in cash, so there’d be no record of a bank account, not in this country anyway. There was one thing he did want to know, however.
“You want to tell me why Copeland had to go? Was this because he was having an affair with your wife?”
Kaz stood up. Crane knew he’d crossed the line. It had been worth a shot, though. Instinct told him he’d be forgiven this time, but not again. They were still establishing boundaries, sussing each other out. The probing question would just draw the line in the sand.
His boss said, “This meeting is over. Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t have to answer to you. If you want to work for me, you’ll do what I say, no questions asked, is that clear?”
Crane stood up. He was taller than Kaz which gave him a momentary glimmer of satisfaction. He nodded. “Sure, I was just curious.”
“Don’t be curious. It’s a bad trait in an employee.”
That was Kaz’s way of putting him in his place. Crane
spread his hands. “Okay, fair enough. Sorry I asked. Won’t happen again.”
He turned to leave.
“Hey, Crane…”
Crane turned around. “Yeah?”
“Good job last night.”
Crane nodded, then left the room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“How’s Copeland?”
It was the first thing Crane asked when he met Doug that evening.
The FBI man sat at the end of a long, worn wooden bar in a busy drinking establishment downtown. It was a well-used but fairly non-descript place, popular with the after-work crowd, a bit on the grubby side but with good music on a Friday night. A decent blues band played a Muddy Waters track. The music made conversation difficult, but also meant that in the packed bar it wouldn’t be unusual for two strangers to strike up a random conversation, should anyone be watching. It was unlikely Kaz was having him followed, but you never knew. As an extra precaution, Crane had left his car miles away and taken a haphazard route to get here, doubling back several times.
“Still unconscious. They put him in a coma so they could stitch up his scalp. He’ll be like that for a while, apparently.”
Crane grimaced. “Sorry to hear that. What’s the prognosis?”
“They think he’ll come around in a day or two. There’s a bit of swelling on the brain, but that should subside soon.” He bought Crane a drink and said, “That was a good thing you did, getting him out of there.”
“I couldn’t let the guy die, could I?” He took a long sip. “He wasn’t having an affair with the wife. He’d done nothing wrong as far as I could see. I still don’t know why Kaz wanted him dead. It’s a mystery.”
“Perhaps he’s so obsessed with his wife he’s prepared to kill anyone who comes near her.”
It was the only answer which made sense, except it didn’t.
“I don’t know,” mused Crane, shaking his head. “Kaz doesn’t strike me as the type to be prone to psychotic episodes. He’s a control freak. Everything his way. No questions asked.” To quote the man himself. “But he could have planned this for some time. Used me to get to the guy, then to take him out.” He shrugged. “I need more time to get to the bottom of it.”
“That would make him a cold-blooded psychopath. Either way, it’s not looking good.”
“The wife is shit scared of him.”
“I can understand why. Did Erkel check-up?”
“Yeah, he sure did. The very next morning. He told me himself. Thank God you got to the press in time. He thinks Copeland’s dead, and I told him his bodyguard tried to shoot me, so I had no choice but to kill him.”
“He believed you?” Doug frowned.
“I have the bullet wound to prove it.” He patted his bandaged arm. “By the way, the man I shot is called Aneez, he’s Serbian. I don’t know much more than that, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck tracing him.”
“There’s not much left to identify,” remarked Doug grimly.
The band was hotting up. They were playing Jimmy Rogers now. More people grabbed seats along the bar, so Doug shuffled up against the wall, Crane right next to him, shoulder to shoulder. They turned to face the band.
“How’s the wife?” Doug asked.
“I haven’t seen her,” Crane said, leaning back against the bar. “When she finds out, she’ll be pretty cut up. Her and Copeland were close.”
“You know you can’t say anything to her.” Doug gave him a warning glance.
Crane just gave him a look, but Doug continued, half-jokingly, “I know what you’re like with women.”
Crane frowned. “What am I like?”
“You’re the classic knight in shining armour, out to save every damsel-in-distress. I’ve seen you in action. Remember that politician’s wife last year – the pretty brunette – she nearly blew the whole damn case.”
Crane said nothing. That had been a close call, but he’d learned his lesson. Even the most vulnerable women couldn’t be trusted.
“That was an isolated case. You don’t have to worry. Mrs. Erkel will be under the impression her friend is dead.”
“Do you think she knows what her husband is up to?” It was a question Crane had asked himself many times.
“I’m not sure. I think she knows his business isn’t strictly legitimate, but I doubt she knows specifics.”
“It might be worth investigating that angle,” Doug pointed out, then picked up his glass. “Women seem to like you.” He grinned. “It must be something to do with that extreme sportsman thing you’ve got going down. You should use that to your advantage.”
“You don’t have to tell me how to do my job, Doug. This isn’t the first time I’ve been undercover you know.”
Doug raised his hand. “Sorry, I know. I’ll leave you to it. I’m just anxious to get this bastard.”
Crane drained the rest of the beer. “So am I. If he’s bringing heroin into the country, I’ll find out about it and we’ll get him. The bastard won’t get away with it.” His eyes were hard. “Now, I’d better get home. I have to pack.” He smirked. “I’m moving into the staff quarters at the big house tomorrow.”
“Lucky you.”
Crane didn’t know if luck had anything to do with it, but he did know if he was going to find out anything about Kaz’s drug smuggling operation, or why Copeland had to die, he was going to have to be there, in the thick of it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sarah opened her bedroom door and stepped out onto the upstairs landing. It was four a.m. and what she was doing was madness. If her husband caught her…Well, that didn’t even bear thinking about.
Still, she had to know.
Her breath came in ragged gasps even though she was trying to be quiet. She paused on the stairs, hand on the banister, and exhaled slowly several times, trying to get it under control.
The mansion was silent. Kaz was asleep in his bed, thanks to the half a bottle of whiskey he’d drunk that evening after the last of their guests had left. Sarah hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, she needed a clear head tonight for what she wanted to do.
After Kaz had fallen asleep, she’d opened the door between their adjoining rooms and rifled through his clothes until she found the only key to his study. It was in his trouser pocket. Then she’d snuck back out, closing the door carefully behind her.
The tiled floor was cold under her bare feet, but it was also soundless as she crept along the corridor to her husband’s study. She wore her pyjamas, which made movement easy. Her hand trembled as she inserted the key into the lock.
Come on. You can do this.
Finally, she got the key in and turned the handle. The door opened with a small creak.
There!
Sarah paused, listening. Not a sound from upstairs. She crept inside. The study was dark, heavy blinds blocked out any light from outside.
Damn, she’d forgotten to bring a flashlight. Careful not to bump into anything, she felt her way across the room to the desk and switched on the antique banker’s lamp. An ethereal green glow filled the room. Quickly, Sarah shut the study door and locked it behind her, pocketing the key. Her heart thumped so hard she could feel it in her throat. God, what was she doing?
At least the door was heavy, so even if Kaz did discover her, he wouldn’t be able to get to her unless she unlocked the door. He’d need a battering ram to break it down and last check there wasn’t one of those lying around.
Time to get to work.
On top of his desk was his laptop. That would be where most of his files were kept, but she didn’t have his password so she ignored it and moved on to the desk. What she wanted was a paper trail. Anything that would help her join the dots.
She slid open the top drawer and lifted out a pile of folders. She quickly went through them, scanning each one before putting the papers back into the folders in the same order as she’d found them. There was nothing of interest – just invoices, waybills and a quarterly statement of accounts. She glanced at the d
ate. Last month. The heading at the top of the page read Ibex International Imports with the black logo of the intrepid mountain goat with its signature curved horns. Kaz’s company logo. Her eyes dropped to the bottom line. Kaz had made a healthy profit last month, but not a phenomenal one. She bit her lip. With the lifestyle they led, she would have expected he’d be doing a lot better. His membership to the golf club alone cost more than that per year, and then there were his frequent business trips, her flights to California… But then maybe he was writing all that off to tax, or perhaps he had other investments. Kaz never shared his business interests with her so she had no idea what state their affairs were in.
She moved on, checking the two other drawers, one of which was locked, the other which contained a notebook and some stationary. On TV, secret documents were often taped underneath the desk, so she got down on her hands and knees to have a look.
It was when she was down there, that she heard a soft scratching at the door. She paused and held her breath. Had Kaz discovered she wasn’t in her room? Oh God… Her mouth went dry and her heart began to beat erratically. He’d kill her for being here.
The scratching grew louder, but no one called out. What was going on? She didn’t move from under the desk. There was a soft click as the door opened slowly. Help! The lamp was still on, she’d had no time to turn it off. From under the desk she saw white sneakers, with a blue stripe down the side and khaki cargo pants. That was not her husband.
She poked her head out from under the desk. “You!”
The man jumped but recovered quickly, putting a finger over his lips and closing the door quietly behind him.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a coarse whisper. “Did my husband send you?”
He shook his head. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here.” He walked further into the room. “I could ask you the same question.”
“This is my house,” she retorted. Who the hell did he think he was sneaking in here in the middle of the night. “I could have you arrested for breaking and entering.”
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 10
