"Who says I didn't?"
"I do. You had fucking dollar signs in your eyes when you opened that locker. Let's show a little respect for each other here. My client wants the stones returned. I want my fee. Laine wants you safe. We're going to make all that happen." He started the car. "You finish this out, I'll see that your slate's wiped clean on this. You ditch me, you hurt Laine, and I'll hunt you down like I would a rabid dog. You'll be my goddamn life's work. That's a promise, Jack."
"You're not bullshitting. I know when a man's bullshitting. Son of a gun." Jack's grin spread wide and bright as he leaned over to embrace Max. "Welcome to the family."
"Briefcase is locked, Jack." Max pulled back, then set the briefcase out of reach in the back.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Jack said cheerfully, and settled back for the ride.
***
In his cabin, Crew selected a shirt the color of eggplant. He'd ditched the mustache, replacing it with a soul patch he thought suited the sleek, chestnut-hued ponytail. He wanted an arty look for this trip. He selected a pair of round-lensed sunglasses from his supply and studied the effect.
It was probably unnecessary to go to such trouble, but he did enjoy a good costume.
Everything was ready for company. He smiled as he looked around the cabin. Rustic, certainly, but he doubted Ms. Tavish would complain about the accommodations. He didn't plan on her staying for long.
He hooked the little.22 on the back of his belt, covered it with a hip-length black jacket. Anything else he might need was in the bag he slung on his shoulder before he strode out of the cabin.
He thought he might have a bite to eat before he had his date with the attractive Ms. Tavish. He might be too busy to dine that evening.
***
"I did the legwork," Jack said as he and Max had a beer in the airport bar. "Courted Myers for months. Now, I'll admit, I never dreamed of a score that big. Was thinking small, taking a couple of briefkes, clearing a couple hundred thousand each. Then Crew came into it."
Jack shook his head, sipped through the foam. "For all his faults, that's a man who thinks big."
"Faults being he's a cold-blooded killer."
Frowning, Jack dug his big hand into a bowl of nuts. "Biggest mistake of my life, and I'm not ashamed to admit I've made a few, was hooking up with a man like Crew. He suckered me in, no question. I got dazzled by the idea of all those rocks. All those pretty, shiny rocks. He had the know-it-all for something like that, the vision. I had the connections. Poor Myers. I'm the one who brought him in, played him. He had a gambling problem, you know."
"Yeah."
"Far as I can see, any gambling's a problem. House is always going to win, so it's better to be the house. Gamblers are either rich people who don't give a shit if they lose, or suckers who actually think they can win. Myers was a sucker, word go. Had himself in deep, and with some nudging from me he was in deeper. He saw this as his way out."
Jack drank more beer. "Guess it was. Anyway, the deal went down smooth enough. Quick, clean. Had to figure they'd cop to Myers, but he was supposed to go straight under. Nobody was to know where anybody else was heading. Willy and me drove right out of the city, I dumped the pig in AC, and we dumped Willy's in a locker in Delaware. Got ourselves a nice hotel room in Virginia, had a fine meal, a couple bottles of champagne. Good time," he said, and toasted with his glass.
"Heard about Myers on CNN. Willy loved CNN. Tried to tell ourselves it was because of the gambling, but we knew. Switched cars, drove to North Carolina. Willy was spooked. Hell, we were both spooked, but he was nervous as a whore in church. Wanted to light out, just forget it all and head for the hills. I talked him down from that. Goddamn it."
He studied his beer, then lifted it and drank deep. "I'd lead Crew off, and he'd double back, get his share, take it to Laine. She could put him up for a little while. I thought he'd be safe. Thought they both would."
"But he knew about her. Crew."
"I got pictures of her in my wallet."
He drew it out and flipped it open.
Max saw photos of a newborn with a bright thatch of red hair and skin as white as cream, and an expression on her little face that seemed to say, "What the hell am I doing here?"
There were several of Laine as a child, all bright hair and eyes, who from the grin had obviously figured out what she was doing here. Then of the nubile teenager, pretty and dignified in her graduation shot. Of Laine wearing cutoffs and a skinny top, laughing as she stood in the blue surf of what Max deduced was Barbados.
"Always been a looker, hasn't she?"
"Prettiest baby you ever saw, and she just got prettier every day. I get sentimental, especially after a beer or two." Jack shrugged. It was just another God-given weakness, after all. Closing the wallet, he tucked it away again.
"I must've shown her off to Crew sometime. Or he just dug down and looked for something he could use against me, should the need arise. There's no honor among thieves, Max, and anybody who thinks different is a sucker. But to kill over money? That's a sickness. I knew he had it in him, but I thought I could beat him at the game."
"I'll find him. And I'll put him down, one way or the other. That's our flight."
***
Laine fought not to pace, to just look busy. She checked the time again. Her father should be on his way back by now. She should've told him to call when he was on his way back. She should've insisted.
She could call Max again, but what was the point? He'd be on his way to Columbus. Maybe he was already there.
She just had to get through the day, that was all. Just this one day. Tomorrow, the news would hit that a large portion of the stolen diamonds had been recovered. She'd be in the clear, her father would be in the clear, and life would get back some semblance of normality.
Maybe Max would pick up Crew's trail from this Ohio connection. They'd track him down, put him away. She'd never have to worry about him again.
"You keep going away." Jenny gave her a little nudge as she carried a George Jones cheese dish to the counter for a customer.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. Wandering mind. I'll take the next one who comes in."
"You could take Henry for another walk."
"No, he's had enough walks today. He gets sprung from the back room in another hour anyway."
She heard the bells ring. "I'll take this one."
"All yours." Jenny lifted her brows as she glanced at the new customer. "Little old for that look," she said under her breath, and moved on.
Laine fixed on her welcome face and crossed over to greet Crew. "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"
"I'm sure you can." From his previous visits to her store, he knew the arrangements and exactly where he wanted her. "I'm interested in kitchen equipment. Butter crocks, specifically. My sister collects."
"Then she's in luck. We have some very nice ones just now. Why don't I show you?"
"Please."
He followed her through the main room, into the area she'd set up for kitchen equipment, furnishings and novelties. As they passed the door to the back room, Henry began to growl.
"You have a dog in here?"
"Yes." Puzzled, Laine looked toward the door. She'd never known Henry to growl at store sounds and voices. "He's harmless and he's secured in the back room. I needed to bring him in with me today." Because she sensed her customer's annoyance, she took his arm and led him to the crocks.
"The Caledonian's especially nice, I think, for a collector."
"Mmm." There were two customers and the pregnant clerk. As the customers were at the counter, he assumed they were paying for purchases. "I don't know anything about it, really. What in the world is this?"
"It's a Victorian coal box, brass. If she enjoys antique and unique kitchen items, this is a winner."
"Could be." He slipped the.22 out of his belt and jammed the barrel into her side. "Be very, very quiet. If you scream, if you make any move at all, I'll kill everyone in this shop, beginning with
you. Understand?"
The heat of panic washed over her, then chilled to ice as she heard Jenny laugh. "Yes."
"Do you know who I am, Ms. Tavish?"
"Yes."
"Good, that spares us introductions. You're going to make an excuse to walk out with me." He'd planned to take her out the back, but the damned dog made that impossible. "To give me directions, we'll say, to walk me to the corner. If you alert or alarm anyone, I'll kill you."
"If you kill me, you won't get the diamonds back."
"How fond are you of your very pregnant employee?"
Nausea rolled up her throat. "Very fond. I'll go with you. I won't give you any trouble."
"Sensible." He slipped the gun in his pocket, kept his hand on it. "I need to get to the post office," he said, lifting his voice to a normal tone. "Can you tell me where it is?"
"Of course. Actually, I need some stamps. Why don't I take you over?"
"I'd appreciate that."
She turned, ordered her legs to move. She couldn't feel them, but she saw Jenny, saw her glance up, smile.
"I'm just going to run to the post office. Just be a minute."
"Okay. Hey, why don't you take Henry?" Jenny motioned toward the back where the growls grew louder and were punctuated by desperate barks.
"No." She reached out blindly for the doorknob, snatched her hand back when it bumped Crew's. "He'll just fight the leash."
"Yeah, but..." She frowned as Laine walked out without another word. "Funny, she... oh, she forgot her purse. Excuse me just a minute."
Jenny grabbed it from under the counter and was halfway to the door when she stopped, glanced back at her customers. "Did she say she was going to buy stamps? The post office closed at four."
"So, she forgot. Miss?" The woman gestured toward her purchases.
"She never forgets." Gripping the purse, Jenny bolted for the door, pressing a hand to her belly as she dashed onto the sidewalk. She saw Laine's arm gripped in the man's hand as they turned the corner away from the post office.
"Oh God, oh my God." She rushed back in, all but knocking her customers aside as she snatched up the phone and speed-dialed Vince's direct line.
15.
It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, a middle-class bull's-eye with well-kept lawns and big leafy trees so old their roots had heaved up through portions of the sidewalks. Most driveways boasted SUVs, the suburbanites' transportation of choice. Many had car seats, and there were enough bikes and clunky secondhanders to tell Max the age of kids in the neighborhood ranged from babies to teens.
The house was an attractive two-story English Tudor with a pretty blanket of lawn decorated with sedate flower beds and neatly trimmed shrubs. And a SOLD sign.
Max didn't need the realtor's sign to tell him the place was empty. There were no curtains at the windows, no cars in the drive, no debris a young boy might leave in his wake.
"Skipped," Jack said.
"Gee, Jack, thanks for the bulletin."
"Guess it's irksome to come all this way and hit a dead end."
"There are no dead ends, just detours."
"Nice philosophy, son."
Max stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. "Irksome?" he repeated, and Jack just grinned. "Neighborhood like this has to have at least one nosy neighbor. Let's knock on doors, Jack."
"What's the line?"
"I don't need a line. I've got an investigator's license."
Jack nodded as they started toward the house on the left. "People in this kind of place like talking to PIs. Adds excitement to the day. But I don't think you're going to tell Nosy Alice you're looking for a lead on twenty-eight mill in stolen diamonds."
"I'm trying to locate Laura Gregory-that's the name she's using here-and verify if she is the Laura Gregory who's a beneficiary in a will. Details are confidential."
"Good one. Simple and clean. People like wills, too. Free money." Jack fussed with the knot of his tie. "How do I look?"
"You're a fine-looking man, Jack, but I still don't want to date you."
"Ha!" He gave Max a slap on the back. "I like you, Max, damned if I don't."
"Thanks. Now just keep quiet and let me handle this."
They were still several paces from the door of a modified split-level when it opened. The woman who stepped out was in her middle thirties and wearing a faded sweatshirt over faded jeans. The anthemlike theme music from Star Wars poured out the door behind her.
"Can I help you with something?"
"Yes, ma'am." Max reached for his ID. "I'm Max Gannon, a private investigator. I'm looking for Laura Gregory."
She looked hard at the identification, with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "Oh?"
"It's nothing untoward, Mrs...."
"Gates. Hayley Gates."
"Mrs. Gates. I've been hired to locate Ms. Gregory and verify that she's the Laura Gregory named as a beneficiary in a will."
"Oh," she repeated as the glimmer spread to a sparkle.
"My associate and I... I'm Bill Sullivan, by the way." To Max's annoyance, Jack stepped forward, took Mrs. Gates's hand and pumped it heartily. "We were hoping to speak to Mrs. Gregory personally to verify that she is indeed the grandniece of the late Spiro Hanroe. There was a bit of a family schism in the previous generation, and several of the family members, including Mrs. Gregory's parents, broke contact." He lifted his hands in a shrug. "Families. What can you do?"
"I know just what you mean. Excuse me just a minute." She stuck her head back in the door. "Matthew? I'm right outside. My oldest is home sick," she explained as she eased the door closed but for a crack. "I'd ask you in, but it's a madhouse in there. You can see Laura sold the house." She gestured toward the house next door. "Put it on the market about a month ago-rock-bottom price, too. My sister's the realtor who listed it. Laura wanted to sell it fast, and the fact is, she moved even before it sold. She was planting her summer annuals one day and packing dishes the next."
"That's odd, isn't it?" Max commented. "She mention why?"
"Well, she said her mother in Florida was ill, seriously ill, and she was moving down there to take care of her. She lived next door for three years, and I don't remember her ever mentioning her mother. Her son and my oldest played together. He's a sweet boy, her Nate. Quiet. They were both quiet. It was nice for my Matt to have a friend next door, and Laura was easy to get along with. I always thought she came from money though."
"Did you?"
"Just a feeling. And she worked part-time at an upscale gift shop at the mall. She couldn't have afforded the house, the car, the lifestyle, if you know what I mean, on her salary. She told me she came into an inheritance. It's funny she came into two, isn't it?"
"Did she tell you where in Florida?"
"No. Just Florida, and she was in a tearing hurry to get going. Sold or gave away a lot of her things, and Nate's, too. Packed up her car and zipped. She left... I guess it's three weeks ago. Little better than that. She said she'd call when she was settled, but she hasn't. It was almost like she was running away."
"From?"
"I always-" She cut herself off, eyed them both a bit more cautiously. "Are you sure she's not in trouble?"
"Not with us." Max sent out a brilliant smile before Jack could speak. "We're just paid by the Hanroe estate to find the beneficiaries and confirm identification. Do you think she's in trouble?"
"I can't imagine how, really. But I always figured a man-ex-husband-somewhere in the background, you know? She never dated. Not once since she's been here. And Laura never talked about Nate's father. Neither did Nate. But, the night before she listed the house, I saw a guy come by. Drove up in a Lexus, and he was carrying a box. All wrapped up with a bow, like a birthday present, but it wasn't Nate's birthday, or Laura's either, for that matter. He only stayed about twenty minutes. Next morning, she called my sister and put the house on the market, quit her job, and now that I think about it, she kept Nate home from school for the next week."
&nb
sp; "Did she tell you who her visitor was?" Jack made the question conversational, as if they were all out here enjoying the spring weather and shooting the breeze. "You must've asked. Anybody'd be curious."
"Not really. I mean, yes, I mentioned I'd seen the car. She just said it was someone she used to know and clammed up. But I think it was the ex, and she totally freaked. You don't just sell your house and your furniture and drive off that way because your mother's sick. Hey, maybe he heard about this inheritance and was trying to wheedle his way back so he could cash in. People can be so low, you know?"
J D Robb - Dallas 18 - Remember When Page 23
