“Gets her money back?” I echoed. “Where is it?”
Jake leaned back in his chair and ran one hand through his tousled hair. “Can’t tell you.”
“All right, then, don’t tell me—just write the check.”
“Can’t.”
Jake was stonewalling me, pure and simple. What in the hell was going on? Was he trying to drive me crazy?
“Listen, you,” I said, moving forward in my chair. “I don’t play. I’m not the same stupid girl you knew in high school. Now tell me what’s going on, and tell me right now or I’m going to the police.”
Jake hesitated, looked up at the ceiling, and after a moment looked back at me.
“You can’t,” he said.
I jumped out of my chair and leaned across his desk. “Can’t? You’re telling me I can’t go to the police?”
He nodded.
“Oh, you’re playing with the wrong woman now,” I heard myself say. “I’m a cop and you can damn well believe I know what I can and cannot do.”
Jake stared at me, his eyes widening in surprise. “You? A cop?”
I straightened in my seat. “Yeah, me. What’s so unbelievable about that?”
Jake laughed, tried to stop and choked. “You? I’m sorry. I just can’t picture little you running after some tough bad guy, tackling him and then taking him into custody. Not you.” Jake saw the look on my face and held up a hand to ward off my rebuttal.
“I’m not saying you don’t have the mouth for it, but…” He stopped, stared harder, and then said, “Wait. Is that how you hurt your ankle?”
I felt the indignation well up inside my body, felt the lift-off from my chair as my temper ignited, and knew I was responding to him with old anger and not the emotions of the current moment.
“Jake Carpenter, don’t try to sidetrack me! You don’t have a clue about who I am or what I’m capable of. Now, come up with the money you owe my aunt or I’ll see your ass gets thrown in jail.”
“You can’t,” he said, implacably sure of himself.
“And why not?”
Jake smiled. “Because you have absolutely no proof that any money is missing or that I owe your uncle anything.”
“You son of a bitch!” I swore. “That was you in my uncle’s house. You took the agreement!”
The bell tinkled above the door to the waiting area. Jake frowned at the interruption and rose from his seat.
“Stay there,” he said. “I’ll be right back and we’ll get this straight.”
I watched him walk past me, his scent filling the air as he passed within inches from my chair. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to reconcile Jake the boy with this new, older version of him as a man.
“Now, Jake!” I heard a female voice insist. “Right now!”
I opened my eyes and turned, trying to see the new arrival, but Jake’s broad back blocked any chance peek.
Jake turned, caught me staring, and for a moment, hesitated. He turned back, said something to the newcomer in a low, measured tone, and then waited as she left, the door swinging shut behind her with an angry tinkle of bells.
Jake stepped to the doorway of the office, his expression a mixture of apology and something else. Worry perhaps?
“Stella, something’s come up,” he said. “I need to take care of it right now. Could we pick this up later, like tonight at your house?”
I stared at him, not believing what I was hearing. “Jake, this isn’t a social call!”
Jake’s face darkened. “Stella, I don’t have a choice. I promise we’ll talk tonight. Can you not give me that much?”
“What could be more important than Uncle Benny’s murder?” I demanded.
Jake didn’t answer. He wouldn’t answer. I could see that by the determined set of his jaw. Jake had secrets. Of course Jake had secrets; who was he trying to fool with his phony openness? He’d given me lots of nonessential information, but he never answered any of the big questions.
I stood up, swept past Jake and let him think he’d won. The direct approach wouldn’t work, but that was fine. I was a cop; investigating suspicious circumstances was my specialty. Why should Jake Carpenter be different from any other criminal?
I gave myself a mental bitch slap. What had I been thinking? Where was the cold, calculating Stella? Where was the sneaky, nosy, no-excuses made, unremorseful snoop? I wasn’t a sap. I was too crafty for that.
You don’t surprise me on birthdays ending in zero. You don’t pull the wool over my eyes and think you’re making me happy. Surprises annoy me. They arouse my curiosity in an irritable sort of way, and once that’s happened, your secret is history. Jake Carpenter hadn’t learned this about me, and it was just as well because it was going to make sneaking up on the auto body office that much easier.
I let him watch me leave, let him imagine that I wasn’t looking in my rearview mirror as I drove off. He didn’t need to know I had caught a glimpse of his urgent visitor returning to the office from her hiding place around the side of the building. Poor Jake, it must be hell to be him and have me on his case.
I drove into the parking lot of the Acme grocery store, left the car and skirted the back lot until I’d crossed the line onto Jake’s property. From there it was a cakewalk. Hulks of cars in various states of battered disrepair hid me as I skulked my way toward the rear entrance of Jake’s automobile sanctuary. It was nothing to slip through the back bay door and begin edging along the wall of the darkened garage.
“Dead?” a female voice cried. “What do you mean, he’s dead? Benito can’t be dead! I can’t lose him! I have been with him since Maryland, since the old days. He can’t be…gone!”
The words ended in harsh sobs that echoed through Jake’s office, over the transom window and out into the shadowy work area.
“You knew this might happen,” I heard Jake say. “I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do. I was too late to save him.”
The woman’s sobs continued for what seemed an eternity. Jake was silent. I tried to picture him comforting this stranger, but my mind kept racing ahead with question after question. Who was she? Was Uncle Benny having an affair? I tried to picture my uncle wrapping some woman other than Aunt Lucy into a passionate embrace. I just couldn’t envision it. Hell, I couldn’t imagine Uncle Benny and Aunt Lucy! My uncle’s ardor was reserved for fish, not women.
I stared up at the narrow window and wished it were closer to the ground. What did she look like? Had my uncle been having an affair? No. Uncle Benny would never cheat on Aunt Lucy. He’d adored her. Hadn’t he? Maybe there was another explanation.
I shook my head. Or maybe I had been as blind about my uncle as I had been about every other man in my life.
A huge red tool chest stood against the wall beneath the window. If I stood on it, I’d still need a good three feet to reach the window ledge. I looked around, spotted a trash can, and decided to make do.
“What is it the Special Forces guys always say?” I muttered, trying to silently balance the inverted can atop the tool chest. “Adapt and overcome.”
A wrench clattered to the floor of the garage, dislodged by the trash can. I held my breath, just knowing Jake would hear me and come out to investigate, but Uncle Benny’s “friend” was wailing again.
“He promised me he’d be careful,” she said, the sobs ending as anger began to edge into her tone. “He said he had something for me. That’s why I came. He told me it was ready.”
She was silent for a moment, apparently waiting for Jake to reassure her that she’d be taken care of, but he didn’t say a word.
I hoisted myself up onto the tool chest and prepared to scale the trash can. It wobbled precariously as I gripped its sides and tried to clamber up onto its slippery bottom.
“Damn!” The can tipped and I swore without thinking.
“What was that?” the woman said.
Jake, apparently more clueless than usual, said, “What?”
“I thought I heard someone say
something.”
I heard Jake’s chair scrape against the floor as he prepared to investigate. I held my breath, frozen into a crouch on top of the barely balanced metal can.
“Don’t do it,” I prayed. “Don’t come in here.”
Jake moved. I heard his footsteps heading for the doorway of the office. If I didn’t take the chance now, I’d never see her. He was coming my way.
I stood up, teetering on the wobbly barrel and reached for the ledge of the transom. I pulled up with my arms, gripping the thick sill, and was rewarded with the loud clang of the trash can hitting the floor.
“This is so not good,” I whispered.
Jake moved. I heard him leave his office and lift the counter. He was heading for the garage. He was seconds away from finding me.
“Ouff!” I exhaled and pulled myself up, almost over the ledge. I grappled and tried to bring my leg up, the way soldiers do in basic training when they scale the wooden wall on the obstacle course.
I was no soldier, and this was a slippery garage, not a military training field. I popped my head up over the ledge for a second and was rewarded with one brief glimpse of bleached-blond hair before I lost my grip and plunged eight feet down onto the hard concrete floor.
I landed on my sore ankle and barely stifled a groan as Jake reached the doorway.
He stepped out into the work bay and called, “Anyone out here?”
I held my breath, crouched behind the tool chest and waited for the inevitable hide-and-seek game of discovery to begin.
Jake stood still, listening. I could see part of his profile. He took a few steps into the garage, sighed and, for some reason, walked back into the office without inspecting any further.
“Cats,” I heard him say. “Knocked over the trash can. Damn animals. I’d run ’em off but they keep down the rats.”
The woman exhaled with a loud, impatient sigh. “I don’t care about that,” she said. “What am I going to do now?”
I shook my head. Women. No wonder men always thought that it was always about them. Here’s my uncle, dead, and she wants to know what about her! Damn!
Jake sighed, maybe thinking the same thing I was. “I don’t know everything yet. Benny’s niece showed up and she’s asking a lot of questions. I’ve got to get rid of her. The cops are all over this mess. I can’t do anything yet. Let things die down a little. Don’t worry. I’ll get it to you.”
Jake muttered something else I couldn’t hear, but the bimbo made it easy on me.
“What? What do you mean you don’t know where it is?”
Jake was clearly irritated. “Just what I said. If he had something for you, I don’t know where it is!”
This did not sit well with his visitor. I heard a chair scrape across the floor. She was getting ready to make a scene; I could feel it.
“I’m not leaving this godforsaken cesspool of a town without it!” she stormed. “You hear me?”
Jake heard her, all right. There was no way not to hear her; she was shrieking loud enough to be heard two blocks away.
“I’ll do what I can,” he said.
“You do what you have to do to get it!” she raged. “You want his death to be for nothing? You want me to spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened, if only…”
She didn’t finish her sentence; instead she started crying again.
“Forget it!” she sobbed. “You are useless! You know less than he did! I can see I must handle this myself!”
I sank back against the wall and wondered what in the hell was going on. The blonde, apparently done with Jake, stormed out, slamming the outer door as she went. The building was silent.
I stood up, wincing as I put weight on my foot, and started to sneak out the way I’d come, then stopped and thought better of it. Was this really the time to leave? The blonde had worn Jake down. Why not capitalize on that and surprise him with another round of questions? Never interrogate a suspect at their convenience; always pick the worst possible moment so you can stress them further.
I chuckled silently. Jake was stressed, all right. What perfect timing. Besides, if I waited, the cops might come and arrest him. I’d never know the truth then. Jake was just the type to lawyer up, letting the legal system rescue him by giving him due process. The way I saw it, Jake didn’t deserve a break and Uncle Benny and I deserved a full confession.
I turned and began to head back for the office. I was moving slowly, limping as my sprained ankle reminded me of just how foolhardy I’d been.
I didn’t hear him come up behind me. Didn’t know he was there until I felt him grab me by the arms, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall before I could react.
“Let me go, Jake!”
How had he done that? How had he managed to vanish from his office and sneak up on me without me knowing? Damn! The man was good, and that was frightening.
He wasn’t happy. The concrete wall and the Glock in my waistband bit into my back. I felt every vertebra grind against the pressure of his hold. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His blue eyes deepened to navy.
I made the mistake of pushing back against him and was rewarded with the bruising grip of his fingers biting into my skin.
“Let go of me!”
He said nothing, merely stared with a cold glare that began to frighten me. I could easily see him as a killer.
“I decided not to wait until tonight to talk,” I said. “I want to talk now.”
“You decided to sneak back here and eavesdrop,” he answered. “Don’t bullshit me. I eat girls like you for lunch.”
I stiffened, meeting his gaze with my own and refusing to look as rattled as I felt. “All right, then. Who was she?” I asked.
“An old friend.” His voice was low and steady, as if daring me to challenge him.
“Sounded more like she was Uncle Benny’s friend than yours.” I took a stab in the dark. “Is that where the money was going? Did my uncle have a girlfriend?”
We were playing with each other, looking for chinks in the armor. Underneath the spoken conversation was an entirely different layer of questions. Who are you? What are you made of? What will it take to break you down?
“What’s going on here, Jake?” I said finally. “I have a right to know.”
He smiled, but he wasn’t amused. “No, you don’t,” he said. “You have no rights here. Furthermore, what you know could get you killed. No, not could get you killed,” he said, correcting himself, “will get you killed.”
As I watched, Jake had become larger than life. This was a man I’d never seen before.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I said. “Let me help you.”
Jake threw back his head and laughed mirthlessly. “You want to help? I’ll tell you what you do.” He paused, making sure I heard him. “Get out. Walk away. Let me handle this. It’s what I do.”
“No, Jake, whatever it is, I have a right to be here. I need to know. This is what I do, too.”
He stared at me with raised eyebrows and slowly shook his head. “No, let me assure you, this is not what you do. This isn’t about handing out traffic tickets or locking up drunks. This is way out of your league.”
Anger surged through me, erasing any apprehension I had been feeling. Who the hell did he think he was? “Try me,” I said.
Jake’s gaze softened slightly. He leaned closer, bringing his head down toward mine and making me aware of the heat that burned the thin space between us and stole the very oxygen from the air.
“Try you?” he whispered.
He continued to move toward me, his eyes focused on my lips. He was going to kiss me, and worse, I found my body responding like a traitor. My eyes began to close. My lips parted and I held my breath, waiting for my uncle’s killer to bruise my mouth with his crushing embrace.
Jesus! My eyes flew open. What was going on here? Had I lost my complete mind? The asshole was trying to sidetrack me, and I’d almost let it work!
I brought my hands up and
shoved him hard. His eyes registered surprise. The ground beneath my feet shook. The walls of the shop began to tremble. This was not passion suddenly becoming bigger than both of us; this was an explosion!
Outside the garage, the fuel pumps blew with a violent fury of heat and flames, hurling stone, brick and glass into the garage. I was aware of moving, being thrown back and away from the open bays. I landed in a corner, hit my head and felt stunned for a few moments.
The heat was unbearable; it rippled through the garage in waves that distorted everything around me. I thought I saw Jake in front of me, moving toward the fire. I opened my mouth to yell at him, to warn him back, but knew he couldn’t hear me. My own ears were ringing from the blast.
I started toward him, futilely screaming his name. He had to stop. There would be more explosions as the fire hit the other fuel pumps. What was he doing? I ran, no longer feeling the pain of my swollen ankle. I was trying to close the distance between us, dodging puddles of flaming liquid and sidestepping debris. The heat from the fire took my breath away. It hurt to inhale.
I looked up and saw Jake clear the bay doors just as a second explosion rocked the ground beneath our feet. A car hurtled into the air, burst into burning pieces of metal, and became a deadly Gatling gun as the shards flew out in all directions. The metal awning over the pumps gave way. One of the supporting beams began to teeter, then fall. Jake stood in its path, watching the devastation before him, unaware of the impending danger.
“Jake!” I screamed and tore forward, ignoring the heat and pain that lashed out at me as I ran.
The pole seemed to fall in slow motion, breaking away from supports weakened or destroyed by the explosion and resulting fire. Jake never saw it coming. He stood, studying the carnage in front of him.
I covered the last ten feet between us in a few seconds, but even then I realized I would be too late. I dived, tackling him as the pole built up speed. I slammed into his torso but was too late to push him completely out of the way. The beam missed his head but connected with his left leg.
I rolled, somersaulting up onto my feet and moving back toward Jake. The heavy beam had pinned him to the ground. His leg was bleeding and he was unconscious. For a moment I wondered if he was dead.
Stella, Get Your Gun Page 9
