The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “The Peruvian official was here? He questioned you in person?”

  “Yes. Two days ago. He said he was staying somewhere locally. I don’t remember where, but his mobile number is listed. You still might catch him here in town.”

  “Thanks. We’ll do that.” Dan took the two steps to reach the door, turned and said, “Professor—a pleasure.” Giving David a pointed stare to follow him, he then left.

  “Thank you very much for your help, Professor,” Grace said. David shook the woman’s hand, echoed his thanks and allowed Grace to precede him out the door.

  This was a bad time to find out about a missing treasure hunter and a curious Peruvian official. Wait until he told Dan that he had to go back to London. Even though Roland said it was a formality, David knew there were no guarantees. Knowing Dan, it would be a great cause for anxiety.

  They left the campus and David drove with Dan instead of Grace—back to his usual routine. He brought Dan up to speed about his trip to London.

  “I leave in two days,” David finished.

  “I’m not sure if I’m more pissed that you’re skipping out in the middle of the investigation just when we get a good lead—the mayor is going to jump all over that—or if I’m scared shitless about what the third degree is all about. It’s been a year. You’d think it was all water under the bridge by now.”

  The more Dan spoke, David noticed, the faster they sped down Memorial Drive with windows wide open to the Charles River-inspired breeze. They headed toward the bridge that would take them from Cambridge back across to Beacon Hill, right around the corner from Government Center in Boston.

  “Scotland Yard is very protective of their reputation,” he said sarcastically. “They’ve been around a while and they’re very highly thought of worldwide.”

  “Get to your point.” Dan had lost whatever little patience he possessed back in the professor’s office.

  David lifted his brows and tried to hide his amusement. “The consideration of so-called new evidence is for show—to demonstrate the great care and seriousness they devote to any possible transgressions in order to maintain their high standards. They won’t change their decision,” David said unequivocally. He silently cursed his in-laws.

  “Whatever you say. If it was any other time, I’d go with you—but I can’t leave this investigation—it’s bad enough you’re leaving. What are the chances you can get this postponed for a week or two?

  “Not bloody likely. I’d love the moral support, but all I’ll need is my barrister. It will be a short trip. I plan on returning within twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m sure it’ll work out like you said.” Dan’s voice softened and the car slowed down. They were winding toward his townhouse where Dan was to drop him.

  “I’ll check in on a friend from Interpol while I’m in the neighborhood and see if they’ve had any inquiries on a missing treasure hunter from Peru or smuggled artifacts,” David said.

  Dan grunted in response.

  David checked his watch—it was only six thirty, and an empty evening lay before him. His habit would have been to go out to the nearby eating and drinking establishment, Number 9 Park, for the evening. Number 9 catered to an upscale clientele, but he’d adopted it as his local hangout nonetheless. He would normally have a few cocktails, some dinner and then he’d chat with the bartenders and other regulars. He’d even come to know the owner of the place. One of them would probably introduce him to some lovely young woman who’d inevitably stay for a few more drinks before they’d retire to her place, or occasionally his, for the remainder of the evening and into early morning before departing. Never until daylight. Never for breakfast—or what passed for his breakfast.

  But he’d committed to changing his ways—and that routine no longer appealed to him in any event. He thought of the old days in London when he was with Scotland Yard and married. It seemed like someone else’s life. It was time for him to start again; time to pursue a meaningful relationship with a mature, well-educated, reasonably attractive woman.

  Why was it that this notion held no appeal? Was Dan right and he was floundering instead of trying to get past his past? Or was it that he was comparing Frenchie to Grace?

  They’d arrived at his townhouse, but he needed to talk to his friend.

  “Please come in for a drink. I’d like your advice on something,” David said. The enticement to give advice proved irresistible. Dan’s face lit up as he’d expected.

  “Of course, you know you can count on me. I’ll let Esther know to hold dinner for a while.”

  David had a touch of conscience, but promised himself he wouldn’t keep his friend too long. Dan sat on one of the stools at his kitchen bar and David stood on the other side, his new habit it seemed, pouring from the ever-present bottle of Scotch. He recalled having lemonade with Grace earlier in the day when his mood had been much different.

  “So I understand you’re striving for a second career as a matchmaker,” David said.

  Dan had the grace to look sheepish.

  “You know I’m only helping Esther out. We’re both on your side. You know we’ve been worried about you—always with different women and never for long, barely knowing their names. It’s obvious you’ve been lonely.

  “But, if you really want to know what I think—I think Esther is pushing you to start seeing someone seriously so she can have me back. I think maybe she’s worried you’re a bad influence on me. Not really bad, but you know what I mean.” Dan stopped, picked up his drink and drank it down in one gulp.

  Perhaps he was a bad influence on his friend. David raised his brows at Dan. “I know what you mean. You’re right, of course. I don’t know if I’ve been lonely—but at loose ends with no career, no wife or social circle that the wife brings with her. I do have family though.” David paused and looked steadily at Dan. With his drink in hand, he was ready for a gulp, depending on the man’s response to what he was about to say.

  “What if I said I was interested in a serious relationship—but not with Frenchie.” He paused again and took a sip of courage while Dan was clearly waiting for him to lower the boom.

  “What would you say if I were interested in a serious relationship with Grace?”

  “I know you want serious advice, so I’m going to take your question seriously. And I want you to know that’s a stretch for me.” Dan looked at his empty glass then at the bottle.

  “Understood.” David picked up the bottle and filled Dan’s glass. It was unfair of him to use Dan as reinforcement for his conscience or a substitute for his own good sense, but he needed back up to send Grace away.

  “She’s too goddamned young for you. And too pretty and sexy. Girls like that attract a lot of attention and you’d always have to be watching out for her—not saying that she’s not trustworthy because who knows? But I’m saying you and I both know what men are like and they’d try and take advantage of a naïve bombshell like her in a flash. That’s the first thing.

  “Next, you know since she’s so young, she’s going to want to have babies at some point—no matter what she says now. And my friend, before you consider that as a good thing—you are not a spring chicken and you’ve never lived the family with kids in the suburbs life and I don’t see you changing those particular stripes anytime soon.

  “Then, there’s the practical side of the age gap. She’s going to want to do things that young people do that you never even heard of. And she’s going to have no clue about a shitload of what went on when you and I were growing up. She’s got to be twenty years younger than you, easy. That’s a frigging generation of time separating you where you’ll have not one goddamn thing in common.

  “Before I finish, let me say this: I have to acknowledge that she’s a pip. I can see that she’s smart and funny and that you two get along—”

  “Get along?” David finally interrupted the first father-son speech he’d heard since he stopped listening to his father after their move to London when he was fifteen yea
rs old. He was touched. And amused, because he could feel all those old boyhood-style resentments one felt as a teenager when his parents made him listen to unpleasant truths. In this case, however, he’d already known it all and had already given himself the same lecture.

  “Okay. I admit you seem to have some dynamite chemistry and she seems to be an exceptional young lady. She seems warm and wonderful—don’t think I haven’t noticed. Esther noticed too and feels kind of guilty, but we both know what’s right here. It’s like when you have to take bad-tasting medicine. You know it’s good for you no matter how bad it tastes so you take it and it’s over,” Dan said. “That’s all I have.”

  David shook his head and smiled.

  “Thank you. I agree. I must not be as strong-willed as I used to be. Because sending her away is going to be a hell of lot worse than taking bad-tasting medicine. To use a medical metaphor, it’ll be more on the order of having a finger amputated. All for a good cause, I’m sure.” He poured himself another shot of Scotch and drank it down.

  Dan watched and sipped his.

  “On the bright side, I’ll be taking a lovely woman on an evening out tomorrow night. I’m ready to turn the page.” David slapped his friend on the shoulder.

  “First you’ll be going to New York to talk to the gallery manager there tomorrow. We’ll call this Peruvian official to make an appointment for when we get back—what’s his name?” Dan stood.

  “Mateo. Inspector Rodolfo Mateo.” David handed Dan a piece of paper with the name and number on it. “Maybe we can wrap up the case before I go on my short and exciting trip to London.” David picked up the bottle of Scotch and put it in an otherwise empty cabinet. If he wasn’t going to a restaurant for dinner, he should probably buy some groceries.

  The only problem was he had no idea where to go or what to buy or how to cook. He shouldn’t have, but he thought of Grace then. She would laugh in amusement at his ineptness and then patiently tutor him. He would love every minute of it and become a fabulous cook in the end. And they would dine together every night…

  Until she wanted children. His helpless ignorance about cooking paled in comparison to his ignorance about raising children—and those mistakes held far more consequence than burning a few roasts. The terrifying thought wiped out all previous blissful thoughts like a tidal wave crashing over a sandcastle.

  Chapter 7

  DAVID followed Dan into his office, closed the door behind him and sat in one of the two serviceable guest chairs.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with this gallery manager. I hate to send you all the way down to New York and not be able to find him.” Dan sat behind his desk and picked up his phone. “I’ll call Nick and see what he’s found out.”

  David turned to the door as it opened and Nick walked into the office.

  Dan slammed his phone down. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in hiding at the loft?”

  Nick nodded at David and sauntered over to the other chair. “I couldn’t stand it another minute—besides, I have some news.”

  “Let me guess, you can’t get a hold of the gallery manager in NYC?” David pre-empted Dan for the fun of it.

  “Right. I had a friend go to the gallery and it was shut down. Turns out the guy’s not at his home either.”

  “That’s just great.” Dan looked at David. “We can cancel your road trip. It’s too bad. I was hoping we’d make some progress on this before you leave for London.”

  “Don’t worry. We still have the Peruvian inspector,” David reminded his friend.

  “What? What about Peru?” Nick leaned forward with interest. Dan updated him on their visit with Dr. Doris.

  “We should probably call in I.C.E. before we call Mateo. To be polite. They’ll probably let us handle it,” David said as he picked up the plastic bag with the copper to have another close look at it.

  “You haven’t called I.C.E. yet?” Nick sounded excited. He grinned at Dan.

  “No.” Dan looked at David. “Do you have a contact there?”

  “Yes, I’ll give you his number.”

  Dan’s office phone rang then. “Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Don’t tell him I’m here.” Nick sat on the edge of his chair. David liked the young chap, but he seemed to always be on edge.

  “Nick? He’s right here,” Dan said. He looked at Nick with an evil smile. “The mayor has politely suggested that you return to the loft to protect Theresa and Rick.”

  Nick sat back down and flipped Dan a finger.

  “I’ll put you on speaker phone,” Dan told his boss. He pressed a button and put the receiver down.

  “So how is this case going? Any more good leads? Update me.”

  “The New York City gallery manager has disappeared. Nick will follow up on that for us. We got the name of an official from Peru, Mateo, who might know something about the artifacts from that end. David is going to call I.C.E. in on the case before we call Mateo,” Dan said.

  “Who’s I.C.E.?”

  “Immigration & Customs Enforcement or ICE,” David enlightened the mayor with a quirk of a smile for Nick and Dan.

  “Do we have any idea who these smugglers are?”

  “The Peruvian Inspector Mateo supposedly has a name for us—a missing treasure hunter,” David cut in. “I’m going to follow up again with the local gallery manager, Lester Lump. I’ll see if I can get some names of suppliers and some local warehouse locations to check out.”

  “I’ll look into getting search warrants,” Dan put in.

  “Good plan, but remember the days are dwindling. I don’t want them making any more attempts to get that vase back. These people have already proven that they’d resort to violence.” The mayor signed off.

  Dan made a swiping-his-brow gesture and Nick snickered.

  “The mayor may be a tad self-important, but he’s right about one thing. The perps are dangerous,” David said.

  “I’ll echo that. My ribs are still sore.” Nick stretched and winced.

  “Then don’t you think you should be getting back to your brother and his fiancée?” Dan pointed out.

  Nick finally left. After he called I.C.E. and filled them in, Dan picked up the phone again, tapped out some numbers and put it on the speaker. David was starting to feel like not much more than an observer.

  “Are you sure I’m the lead detective on this case? All I seem to be doing is watching you have all the fun.” They listened to the phone ring on the other end. Someone answered in Spanish.

  After twiddling his thumbs while listening to Dan’s tedious conversation, he had to comment. “You do realize that it took ten minutes to find out that our man won’t be available until later this evening.”

  “We’ll need a translator for that conversation, it looks like.” Dan hung up the phone and gave him a thoughtful look that turned into a grin.

  David knew instantly what he was thinking. “You can’t be serious—there are already enough outsiders involved in this case.”

  “Don’t worry. Better an outsider who’s clueless than another person inside the department who’s going to ask questions and expect answers that make sense. Frenchie speaks Spanish too—very well. She’s been to South America at least three times.”

  David shook his head as his investigation veered off course yet again.

  “I see the advantage. Frenchie won’t have any idea about the connection to the murder.”

  “Then it’s done. I’ll arrange for Frenchie to translate when we call Mateo tonight.” Dan picked up his phone and tapped out a number.

  “And on that note, I’ll take my leave. I’ll follow-up with I.C.E. later this afternoon to see if they have anything for us. See you at six.” David got up and headed for the door. He heard Dan greet his wife as he closed the door behind him and felt a jolt of melancholy. He shook off his wistfulness and moved on.

  It was about four o’clock when Grace arrived to pick him up and take him to the decorating center as planned. He hadn’t
called her to cancel because ending their liaison—even though technically it hadn’t started—was something that had to be done in person. She was a delicate and lovely woman and he knew she would take it hard, but bravely. He wanted to minimize any hurt if he could.

  “Grace, you look stunning as usual,” he said upon opening his door. And she did look stunning dressed in black and white from the wide-brimmed, frothy hat down to the patent leather high-heels. The outfit emphasized her curvy figure unfairly and showed off her creamy complexion and short blond curls. He took a deep breath. “Please come in. I’d like to have a talk with you, if you don’t mind?”

  She checked her watch and took him by the arm.

  “How about if we talk on the way—we’re running a little late for our appointment. I had a little problem getting the hat just right. I know you must think I’m dressed more for the Kentucky Derby than work, but you don’t know the design center. It’s filled with designers.” She hurried him to her car. She ran around and got in the driver’s side—the car was still running.

  He could do nothing but smile and go along. He’d have to have their talk at the end of their appointment. He looked forward suddenly to spending this extra hour with her. He figured she’d have to turn his decorating over to someone else at the firm and they could pick up wherever she left off after their design center visit.

  “I’m intrigued, but from the sounds of it I’m afraid I’ll stand out as decidedly unfashionable,” he said cheerfully as he sat in her passenger seat. It was adjusted exactly as he’d left it the last time she drove him somewhere, and that thought comforted him and stabbed him with regret at the same time.

  “Don’t worry—everyone knows, or will know you’re my client. I’m so excited to show you off—a real live ex-Scotland Yard detective! I have to confess, you are the real reason I took extra time and care to dress up today. I wanted you to be stunned by me,” she turned to him with her gorgeous wide brown eyes and an earnestness that squeezed his heart. Luckily they were at a stoplight. He was having trouble coming up with a response that wasn’t a lie to her or to himself.