by B A Trimmer
“And, knowing Lenny,” Reno said. “He’ll make the whole thing fade away. In two weeks, nobody will even remember there was a dead guy.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
I hung up and went to my closet. After two false starts I put on a backless mid-length red dress. The dress was moderately sleazy, with a plunging neckline. Since I couldn’t wear a bra with the dress, Reno’s mind would be steered in the proper direction. I put on a simple gold chain necklace and black high-heeled strappy sandals.
As I drove to Frankie Z’s, my body again started to respond to the thought of seeing Reno. I recognized these feeling for what they were. Lust certainly, but maybe something more. It felt good to be with a man like Reno. I didn’t know if he would turn out to be the great love of my life, but he was as close as I had gotten so far. I pulled into Frankie’s parking lot at 7:10, almost on time.
Frankie was playing hostess again and greeted me with a warm smile. Reno was in a corner table in the lounge. He looked up and saw me as I walked into the room. He took me in with his eyes then a grin spread across has face.
“You cleaned up well today,” he said, the grin still wide.
I took the moment to look him over. I was starting to tingle in all the usual places.
“You know” I said, “I think this may turn out to be a very good day after all.” Reno’s face reddened as he started to catch my not so subtle drift.
Dominic came over before Reno could say anything. We both ordered a Scotch.
“I’m glad you found your Alex,” Reno said. “Homicide has all but cleared him already.”
“What about your guy, Reinhardt? Did he ever make his buy?”
“We don’t know. We lost him for about three hours yesterday. It’s possible he made the deal then.”
“How’d you lose him?”
“I didn’t lose him. Two detectives from the day shift were watching him. Every day at 2:00, Reinhardt has gone into Bucket’s restaurant over on Shoeman Lane. He reads the paper, drinks three beers, and has a bowl of shrimp chowder. Yesterday, he went in the front door and then apparently went straight out the back. Our guys were parked out front and didn’t notice it for over 25 minutes.
Reinhardt’s been using four different rental cars. All of them have a tracking device on them. When they called in to get Reinhardt’s location, dispatch told them all three of the other cars were parked in various parts of the city. One was in north Scottsdale, in a city park near the resorts. One was in a parked on the street in downtown Scottsdale, near the art galleries, and one was up in a group of high-dollar houses on the south side of Camelback Mountain.”
“Sounds like your guys had a dilemma,” I said. “What did they do?”
“Knowing Reinhardt’s MO, they converged on the art gallery location. Unfortunately, Reinhardt’s car was still parked and there wasn’t anybody in it. They canvassed the area, but they never found him. The call had gone out for Reinhardt’s other two rental cars. One was then reported to be on the move, coming off of Camelback Mountain. The guys converged on that one only to find it was being driven back to the airport by a guy from the rental car agency. About two hours later, the third car, the one by the resorts, was reported to be moving. A rookie patrolman was the first to Reinhardt’s location in north Scottsdale. Instead of just calling it in, he decided to stop Reinhardt. He then gave Reinhardt the third degree on the side of the road.”
“Doesn’t sound like a good move,” I said.
“Nope, Reinhardt consented for the officer to field-search his car. There was nothing in the car and we had nothing to hold him in Scottsdale. He flew out of the country last night. We don’t know if it was because we spooked him or if he was finished with whatever business he had. We’ll probably never know.”
“I heard on the news a building caught on fire up near the resorts yesterday. Could he have been involved in that?”
“It was more like the building blew up,” Reno said. “But, it isn’t likely Reinhardt was involved. The lab guys are still checking it out, but it appears to be some kind of drug deal. As far as we know, Reinhardt never handles drugs or anything that explodes. It is interesting the building that blew up is located at a resort controlled by the DiCenzos. I can’t help but think there’s something more to this. There’ve been too many DiCenzo coincidences, but I can’t see any direct connections. If there were, I wish I’d spot one. I’d love to get a crack at bringing down Tough Tony.”
As Reno was talking, I couldn’t help wondering how I kept getting myself in the middle of everything. Reno must have seen my thoughts on my face. He looked like he was about to ask me something, and then let it go. Instead he took a long sip of his Scotch.
~~~~
The evening crowd had started to come in. The Scotch had relaxed me and being with Reno felt wonderful. Talking and laughing with him made it feel like we hadn’t just spent a year apart.
Dominic came over with the bill for the drinks. I told Reno I would get it and dug in my purse. As I pulled out my wallet, something fell out and landed on the table.
“What’s that,” Reno said as he bent closer to look at it.
It was the small envelope Max had given to me from Tony. I had put it in my purse and forgotten about it.
I knew it was a bad idea to open it in front of Reno, but my fingers had taken on a will of their own. I blame the Scotch. I pushed my finger in the envelope and ripped open the flap. Inside was a folded piece of blue paper. My heart started to race as I unfolded it. Something bright fell out and landed on the table with a Clink.
Shit!
It sparkled like fire even in the dim lights of the lounge. I picked it up and looked at it.
“Damn,” I said.
In the back of my mind, I remembered asking Tony about the diamonds. He said he was turning over all but five of them to the Consortium. I guess I knew where the first of the five was.
“Wow, it looks real,” Reno said.
I thought about telling him everything, and then decided against it. I wasn’t exactly sure how illegal my involvement had been. I was sure Tough Tony DiCenzo wouldn’t be pleased if I talked about his business to a cop.
“Umm,” I said, “I asked Gina to get me a fake diamond last week when she was in Vegas. She must have put it in my purse. You’re right though, it does look real. They sure can do wonderful things in the lab these days.”
Reno looked at me for a moment. It was hard to read that look. Finally he asked: “Can you imagine what this would be worth if it was real? It looks perfect and it must weigh four or five carats. You’d be talking about having a hundred and fifty, maybe even two hundred thousand dollars rolling between your fingers.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” I asked. “I’m thinking this would make a beautiful pendent or maybe even a ring.”
“A ring?” Reno asked. He had a twisted look on his face, as if I had just said something scary.
“Umm,” he said, “exactly what kind of ring did you have in mind?”
I just smiled at him.
His face blushed bright red.
“Uh, maybe we should discuss this over dinner?” he said.
I smiled at him again and said in my smoothest voice, “Dinner’s a start. But, maybe we should discuss this over breakfast.”
Reno caught my meaning and smiled back at me. It was his old smile, the one that always made me melt.
“All right,” he said, “over breakfast.”
Yes!
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