“Yes, I’ll tell you all about it while we wait.”
FBI man looked at him and shrugged. “I’ll keep you and Shana in mind if we have business on Martha’s Vineyard. You never know.”
“That’s swell of you.” Dane gave him his shark smile and Shana kicked him in the shin in her subtle way. He held in his grunt of pain. He’d swear she had her shoes sharpened to weapons grade and wondered how she got them through airport security.
Dane planned to sleep on the flight. He’d let Shana entertain the newly intriguing Patty Baker. Next time they ought to do a more thorough background check. You never knew who people were.
That got him to thinking about who the hell their mystery man client was.
“What’s the frown for?” Shana asked as she sat next to him on the plane.
Patty sat by herself diagonally across the aisle from them with her computer and a sheaf of papers, apparently serious about the bookwork.
“We made a big mistake about little miss Patty Baker—”
“I agree—all my fault. I didn’t do enough background checking. I relaxed my standards thinking it was all a harmless lonely hearts person search and—”
“Can it. It was both of our faults. But we’re not finished yet. We need to find out who our client is. Since Patty turned out to be more than meets the eye, our mystery client could be trouble.”
“Don’t you think the FBI already checked into that? I think Patty knows who the mystery man is.”
“Or she thinks she knows.”
Now Shana joined him in a frown and paused not one beat, but two before caving.
“Okay. You have a point. We have a week. We’ll find out who he is.”
“More importantly, we’ll find out what his agenda is.”
“If he has one—beyond the long-lost love agenda.”
“I’ll bet you double down that he has a hidden agenda.”
“Double down? On what? Nothing? Sure,” Shana scoffed and looked away. “You think there’s something more here than meets the eye? You think getting four grand to do practically nothing was too good to be true? Tell me no, please.” She pretend-whined, but he could tell her mind was whirring, same as his.
“No—I’m probably being paranoid. I can see someone paying four large and arranging an elaborate scheme to get back in touch with Patty Baker.” He knew this was not, absolutely not what she wanted to hear down to the bottom of her super-competitive heart.
But he didn’t want to tell her what he really thought, which was that Patty Baker could be the one with an agenda here. Something about her—something not good—rang all kinds of bells in his infamous gut. So much so he wished he had a computer on him—but he did have a phone—even if he wasn’t supposed to use it. That was one of those rules he didn’t consider worth considering. Time to phone a friend.
He knew the governor was out of pocket, so he contacted his friend with the talent for finding out about people’s financial status, Acer. He tapped in the number and sent a text. He knew he’d get a response from a different number, likely within the hour. That was how Acer worked. No direct contact except in an emergency—and then you’d be likely to get the man in person.
Dane smiled. It would be damn good to see his old pal in arms again.
“What are you grinning about? Who are you texting? You know you’re not supposed to be using your phone.” Shana could care less about the rule either, but she did enjoy getting him in trouble and he didn’t put it past her to rat him out, so he shut it down and leveled his sexy smile at her.
She laughed at him.
Shana was both pleased and annoyed to be staying in the adjoining room to Patty’s. Luckily the FBI guy made the arrangements and was paying the freight so the bulk of her case fee remained intact. But she was starting to get a bad feeling about this one. There was something seriously wrong. Special Agent Beck’s story didn’t add up. He’d checked out when Dane had looked into him at the FBI’s Boston office. But still.
Shana glanced at Patty who was inspecting the room. Maybe it was Patty that didn’t add up.
“Kyle thinks it’s a good idea for me to be away from the auction scene—he doesn’t want whoever is marketing frauds to know that I’m checking the book before the sale.” Patty rolled her eyes. “I told him that cat’s out of the bag, but he insists we need to keep it as quiet as possible. So here we are.” She lifted her bag onto the four-poster bed in the larger of the two adjoining rooms to stake out her space. Patty was no fool. But she was a lot talkier than Kyle—talkier than Kyle would have liked, Shana was sure.
“Sure. I’ll take the other room.” Shana carried her small bag through the adjoining door—leaving it open behind her—and tossed her half empty bag into the closet. She didn’t need a bag, but Dane had insisted, telling her she needed to stick to Patty like a tick. If it weren’t for the whole Valentine’s Day client deal, the assignment to stick with Patty would be far more up Dane’s alley. Shana frowned in the mirror.
She needed more intel on Patty Baker. And she knew where to get it.
Shana was not above searching through the other woman’s things—including her computer, her cell phone and even her knicker drawer if that’s what it took. The woman was hiding something.
Damn, but his beach shack seemed empty without Shana lurking about, raiding his cabinets for tea bags or his fridge for beer—and not necessarily in that order. Dane had just gotten used to her being gone at night and now she was gone all day, all week. He didn’t like it. Especially didn’t like the notion that he ought to get used to it. Especially if she found that Valentine’s date she’d promised to find.
What the hell—she was only on a client-sitting assignment with the enigmatic Patty Baker. Three days and Shana would be back and he’d be wondering when he could get rid of her again.
As he paced around his kitchen, the phone rang—the safe phone—the land line—the call he’d been waiting for from his good-as-a-Swiss-watch pal Acer.
They had three days until Valentine’s Day and the date with their mystery client.
Three days until he lost his bet with Shana.
Chapter 10
“Checked out her finances. Nothing obvious in her accounts,” Acer told him without preamble. “But Ms. Baker coincidentally happens to have a sister. A schoolteacher.”
“And?”
“Her sister happens to have a very healthy Swiss bank account.”
“Holy Swiss cheese, Acer. You’ve just given me the magic piece of the puzzle.”
“I’ve been talking to Ms. Baker’s Boston College pals. I still need to talk to the one most knowledgeable.”
“Then you’re in the area, in the flesh?”
“You know me—I like to be hands-on. Up close and personal. And it’s been too long.”
“Looking forward to the next report in that case.” Dane stood in his kitchen looking at the horizon over the ocean out his back window, remembering his friend from their time together, far away from here.
“One more thing,” Acer said. Acer liked to save the best for last. Dane smiled.
“Out with it.” Dane played at impatience to satisfy his friend’s penchant for taunting, keeping the smile from his voice.
“Ms. Baker’s special friend—the one with the most knowledge?” He paused a beat.
Dane waited him out, trying not to speculate, but he had a funny feeling.
Then Acer finally spilled it. “Her special friend at Boston College was Colin Lynch.”
“Holy shit.”
Acer laughed and spilled the details.
Dane listened. He looked forward to his next conversation with Patty’s new friend, FBI man.
He dreaded his next conversation with Captain Colin Lynch. But he’d told Acer he’d be the one to talk to Cap. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.
Dane jumped in his Jeep while snowflakes sprinkled the gray sky, dressing it up to make it pretty instead of dreary. He thought of Shana.
He ne
eded to concentrate on Cap and wondered what the heck was going on. He was certain—ninety-nine percent—that Cap had to be their mystery man client, but this setup smacked of something larger at work. He thought of good old Governor Douglas and shook his head.
The only thing that gave Dane any pause was the question about whether or not this was more professional or personal between Cap and Patty Baker. He was ninety percent sure it was professional. But he thought of Shana again and how it was between him and her and knew he shouldn’t confuse his penchant for professional lapses concerning women with Cap’s. Cap might not have that weakness. Dane scowled at the reminder of his own weakness and drove to the State Police headquarters less than a mile from his beach shack.
He pulled into the lot and contemplated whether to put a call into the Governor first, but decided not to jump the gun. Instead, he jumped from the Jeep.
After walking through the strangely inappropriate glass doors in the front of the weathered gray-shingled Cape Cod house and down the short corridor to Cap’s office, Dane was not too surprised to see an empty desk. Cap’s assistant appeared in the doorway as Dane stood in the office.
“He’s not in.”
“I see that.” Dane waited a beat with the unasked question in the lift of his brow.
“I don’t know when he’ll be in. He said to say he’ll call you when he’s available.”
Dane nodded. That was confirmation enough for him that Cap was playing a role in all this—mystery man client. The hot flash of annoyance didn’t move him. It was the governor. He understood. They’d both do anything for Peter John Douglas, the goddam general of their lives and master puppeteer behind the scenes.
But the thing was, the governor—or general—or whatever else Dane thought of him as—was solid. His missions were always golden, worthy and doable. And he had saved all their lives—more than once. They ought to do anything he asked. Or check whatever happened to their hearts and souls.
He left Cap’s office and decided to try and call him before he called the governor. He sat in the Jeep with his phone to his ear listening to the endless ringing. No ‘please leave a message’ interrupted. That was telling. Now it was time to interrupt Governor Douglas in his affairs of state—whatever he was doing, Dane was damn sure it was important, but so was this.
Also, Dane was damn sure the governor was expecting him to call—at some point.
He placed the call to the governor’s private line, and got transferred to the only person Peter John Douglas would trust with babysitting his personal line—his wife. “Peter is out of pocket and won’t be available until Valentine’s Day,” Madeline said. “He’ll be back then for sure. He won’t miss that date. He told me to let you know he’ll be in touch with you some time on February fourteenth.” Swell.
In the meantime, no way in hell Dane was sharing any of this with Shana until he had a talk with Cap. It had to be him—he was up to something. Personal or police business? That was the question.
Dane needed to get out and try to make some kind of effort to scare up a Valentine’s Date—and he could swing by the Charlotte Inn while he was out to check in with his partner. He called her from the Charlotte Inn’s Green Room where he sat in a stuffy chair waiting for his drink.
“You can leave Patty alone for a few minutes—we can cover the exits from here unless she jumps out the window.”
Shana laughed and the world tilted back the way it was meant to be. When she walked in the door of the library a minute later it felt like she was a chiropractor for his soul. The adjustment in his mood, the lifting of his spirits, was instantaneous. He didn’t share his epiphany with Miss Sunshine. Her head was already too big and her attitude changes too quick.
Before he could swallow her in a bear hug, she pulled out a chair and sat.
“I can’t seem to get hold of Cap—he’s not in when I call. Even when I managed to escape from Patty Baker earlier this afternoon and dropped in unannounced. His assistant said he was out patrolling. He never patrols.”
“I dropped in too—must have just missed you. I wasn’t given any reason for his absence.” Something made Dane hold back from Shana and he knew it was nothing professional or justifiable.
“I’m going by his cottage later tonight—”
“What about Patty Baker—”
“I’ll wait till she’s asleep.”
“What has you so hot to see Cap?” Dane was suspicious.
“I have my reasons. I need to talk to him. What has you so hot to see him?”
“It’s professional. I had Acer check into Patty’s finances. Her sister has a Swiss Bank Account.”
“I knew it. I’m going to step up my spying efforts—go through everything.”
“Be careful. She’s not in this alone. FBI guy could be involved for all we know.”
“Did you call the governor?
“Yes. He’s not around. We need to double-check the FBI guy. I’ll call him later. See if I can scare anything out of him.”
He refused to tell Shana that Cap knew Patty until he spoke to Cap himself. But it was damn difficult.
He lifted his glass with the jigger of whiskey and downed it feeling the heat. But it didn’t quench his sting of guilt. He stood.
“Where are you off to?”
He winked at her and said, “I’m off to scare up a date for Valentine’s Day.”
“Scare is the key word. You should be scared. Because you’re going to lose that bet. And then, Dane Blaise’s Mama, here I come.”
“You’re so strange for one so beautiful.” He walked out before she noticed that her trash talk might be having an effect on him. He headed for the Lucky Parrot—hoping against the odds that he might get lucky.
Later, Dane was one jigger shy of his whiskey limit for the night and despairing that he might have to switch to ginger ale because he was no closer to getting a date. Not that he didn’t have a substantial parade of women to choose from, but none of them was serious Valentine’s material. He leaned against the bar of the Lucky Parrot and surveyed the crowd, surprisingly lively considering it was as far off-season as it got on the island. He winked at his girl Marylu and sighed. She was cute and too young and off limits. And not even a blip on his interest radar except as a pseudo little sister. As far as blips on his romance radar, no one loomed large enough to get past the giant shadow of Shana the beautiful George.
Maybe this was a night to go past his whiskey jigger limit. He gave a half-smile that he hoped didn’t look too inviting to a redhead halfway across the room before he remembered he ought to use the full wattage since he was actually trying to get a date. His heart was not in this. Not one molecule of him was in it—except the piece of him that hated losing a bet. Stupid bet. Shana-inspired stupidity. It was too frequent an occurrence.
His phone blipped, vibrating in his back pocket and he felt relief when he should have been annoyed. Another stupidity—anticipating it would be Shana calling him. It wasn’t.
“What can I do for you, Mr. FBI?” Dane said.
“The name’s Kyle—”
“I know your name. You got something for me? Cause I have some questions for you.”
“I’m checking in—all quiet?”
“As a church. You got any other agencies involved in this operation?”
“Why do you ask?”
“That’s a yes. Who?”
“No one else except the FBI office in New York is involved. What’s going on?” Kyle’s voice rose an octave at least. That made Dane smile. The redhead across the room still watched him, assuming his smile was for her. He sighed.
“Never mind. When is the book coming in? You still on schedule? You still need Patty Baker.”
“Of course—she’s key. The book is due soon—it goes on auction February 15th. Tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Absolutely nothing. That has me worried.”
“Don’t you worry about anything on my end. Nothing should be going on—that’s why we told her
to go to the island—to keep it that way.”
Dane signed off the call. February 15th. That was no coincidence. Since Kyle insisted that no one else was involved, then the governor must have brought Cap in to run a sting of his own. Maybe they didn’t trust Kyle. But that didn’t explain why he and Shana were not clued in since they were now involved. Very odd.
He needed to talk to Cap.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day. Shana opened the door to find a teenaged boy dressed in a standard issue steamship authority jacket and hat holding a brown paper wrapped package about the size of a large book.
“Hallelujah,” Patty Baker said from over her shoulder. “Let me have that.” Patty muscled her way around Shana to grab the book and then dashed to her desk with it. Wasting no time, she slit the paper with a pair of scissors. Shana paid the young man with a shake of her head.
“Guess you don’t need me to check it for a ticking bomb.”
Patty laughed as she tore the paper from the leather box with more glee than Shana felt was warranted.
“I’ve been waiting to get my eyes on this baby—you don’t understand.”
Shana figured she understood perfectly, but she needed to catch Patty red-handed. She also needed to talk to Cap. Desperately. She had no luck catching up with him the other night after Patty was asleep and that bothered her. Where could he be in the middle of the night? On patrol again? With a woman? She dismissed that notion before she let the tick of tension take hold.
She was torn. She ought to deal with Patty first, but from the looks of it, there was no way she was going to get Patty out of this room with her precious book for a while. She’d searched her luggage and even her knicker drawer and found nothing. She tried the woman’s computer but hadn’t cracked the password yet. Shana had one more hope up her sleeve. If Patty Baker was in on any scam from the island then she was likely communicating by phone.
“Time to get to work on this,” Patty said and looked up at her. “No need for you to stand over me like a sentinel. Have a seat. I’m going to be busy for a while.” Patty picked up an eyepiece and gently opened the cover of the book. Her notebook computer was open on her desk and she typed something in.
Beachcomber Valentine Page 6
