Xs, An Allie Armington Mystery

by Louise Gaylord

  Chapter 39

  AFTER FINISHING LUNCH, we step into the gray December afternoon to head down York with Greene and Jaime in the lead.

  Mindy falls in step beside me, and mutters, “Thanks for not involving me. I owe you a big one.”

  I touch her sleeve. “I was hoping you’d say that. Because I have a big one—a really big one, and I need your help.” She gives me an inviting grin. “You got it.”

  I take a few more strides before I unload. “I possess some evidence that no one else knows I have. And by that, I mean no one. It wasn’t my original intention to hold it back from the investigation. Actually, that’s not quite true.” I let out a long sigh. “At first this evidence didn’t seem terribly pertinent to the case. Then time got away from me and not only was I too embarrassed to own up that I had it, I’m an officer of the court and I could be collared for obstruction.

  “But now, I know this information is crucial. It might even bring the Colombian cartel to its knees. Or, at worst, screw up the drug shipments.”

  Mindy hasn’t said a word, but she’s nodding and her breath is coming in small, frosty puffs.

  “Everybody has been looking for this evidence: the DEA, Greene and especially the baddies. But that’s what’s so strange: the shipments have continued. Either there’s a duplicate of the info someplace else or—I don’t know—there’s a piece of the puzzle that I’m missing.

  “Anyway, I need someone besides me to know about this. I believe that someone is you.”

  “Oh, Allie, thank you so much for trusting me. I promise I’ll guard the information with my life.”

  I look down the street to see that Greene and Jaime have already turned into the doorway to the office.

  “It’s an address book.”

  Mindy’s face is a total blank. Of course she wouldn’t know. Greene didn’t find it. Jaime didn’t find it. And she’s been onboard for only a few weeks.

  “Carolina Montoya, my sister’s roommate, stole this book. And someone murdered her because she did. Nobody could find it—believe me they tried. Finally, I figured out where she hid it. “This address book not only contains the names of prostitutes operating at The Castle, but there are also several pages of code names, followed by a string of numbers, that somehow deal directly with the drug-trafficking operation out of Colombia. It’s my guess the numbers are somehow associated with the bank accounts where they stash the drug money.”

  Mindy walks beside me in silence for a few steps. “And what do you want me to do?”

  “I’m not sure, but if for some reason I don’t—” I pause only a second. “If I don’t get out of the townhouse, you have to get to that book and somehow alter the numbers. That way, no one will be able to do much with it. There are still too many people I can’t quite peg. I mean, I’m sure Greene is clean, but—”

  Mindy wrinkles her nose. “Not so sure about your Mister Cotton. Did you ever read his file? Of course not. Too afraid. But you might be surprised to find that he’s received several honorable commendations from the DEA. And, I bet you didn’t know he was once married. To a Julia Lee. They eloped. Only lasted a couple of months.”

  I’d love to strangle her right this minute because she’s so right about my being afraid of what I would find. But I have to bite my tongue to keep from blurting that I know about the marriage. Then I remember Bill didn’t tell me about that either. The information came from his best friend.

  Instead I say, “The address book is in my safe-deposit box at the Chase Manhattan on Eighty-Sixth. Number fifteen forty-two.”

  “That’s great, but how do you expect me to get at it?” “There are ways. I’ll tell you how, if it ever comes to that.”

  Chapter 40

  IT’S BEEN SIXTEEN HOURS since we returned from lunch to the safe house above the deli.

  I announced the date of my departure to Greene, Platón and Cha. As planned, all three voiced their disappointment and begged me to stay on. But I stood firm, saying I had done everything I could to find Caro’s murderer, and all my leads had dried up.

  After spending a fitful night, Greene knocks on my door at a little past seven. His first news is that the rooms over the deli have been swept for bugs. Two were found—one in each room. But he plans to make daily checks.

  Two pots of coffee and several caraway bagels later the phone next to my bed rings.

  “Good morning, Angela.” Cliff ’s oily voice oozes through the receiver. “I remember your saying that you were staying at the Wells. I was hoping you were still in the city.”

  I look at Greene, give him a thumbs-up and he slides the receiver from the desk phone cradle to his ear.

  “Why, Cliff, this certainly is a surprise.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I haven’t called too early, have I?” “Not at all. In fact, I was just going out for a jog.”

  “Then I’m glad I caught you.” He lowers his voice. “We had our Christmas Bash Monday night. Too bad you weren’t there. You would have enjoyed the festivities.”

  “I’m sorry, too. What can I do for you?”

  “You said you wanted to meet Mother. Are you still interested?”

  I go hot and cold at the same time and try to keep the shakes out of my voice.

  “Mmmm, I might not have the time. As you know, my sister is getting married in a couple of weeks. I’m planning to go back to Houston for a few days, then onto Chicago for the wedding.” The silence on Cliff ’s end seems to last an eon, but I can do nothing but wait.

  “Uh, I was really hoping you could give us a few minutes. We’ve acquired a third line drawing by that French artist you admired. It’s really quite intriguing. I thought you might want to see it.”

  Greene shakes his head and mouths, “Stall.”

  “Gosh, Cliff, I have so many things to tie up before I get away.” I slowly count to three. “Sorry for the delay; I’m checking my calendar.” Again I drag the seconds out. “No. No. How about a rain check? I’ll give you a ring the next time I’m in the city.” “Pity.” He rushes on. “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess I’ll have to let the cat out. Thing is, Angela, the woman in this drawing looks exactly like you.”

  I decide to jiggle the bait just a little. “Really? Exactly like me? That’s intriguing.”

  Cliff bites. “You really do have to see this. Did you say you were leaving today?”

  I glance at Greene who shakes his head. “No. I’m not leaving until—”

  When the detective holds up three fingers, I count ahead. “First thing Saturday morning.”

  Cliff ’s relief is more than evident. “Then surely you can give us an hour or two. How about cocktails tonight, say around six?” “Not tonight. Old friends are giving me a small farewell dinner party. Let me get back to you.”

  There’s a tinge of panic in his voice. “No need to play telephone-tag, let’s make the date now. Say tomorrow at six?”

  I purr, “See you then.”

  After I hang up, Greene gives me a high five.

  I return a halfhearted one and sink onto the bed.

  Chapter 41

  WIDELY KNOWN FOR ITS THICK, juicy veal chops, Arturo’s is packed. Not a problem. Mindy knows the owner so our usual table in the far back corner is waiting for us.

  Greene is asking who wants cocktails or wine when I spot Cliff and Larry Templeton standing at the small bar near the entrance. They weren’t there when we walked in.

  Each man has a drink in hand. Cliff is looking down at Larry, but it’s plain Larry’s in charge. He’s jabbing Cliff in the chest with his index finger. He only stops when a waiter appears and leads them to a table for two on the opposite wall from us.

  Mindy must see them, too, because she taps my shoulder and points toward Cliff. “Isn’t that the man we saw on the video tape?”

  “Seems so.”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “Who knows? It’s a free country.”

  Once the two men are seated, I’m able to catch their
reflections in a mirror slightly above and across from them. To me it seems as if they are engaged in an intense discussion.

  Cliff ’s plea to Larry echoes in my head. “Damn it, Larry, this is serious. Hale wants to push up the date. But there are things that still need to be done before we can properly execute stage one.”

  Is that what they’re discussing—Hale? Does she mean to kill again? Am I her next victim?

  Mindy’s tinkling laugh draws me back to the conversation. Her small, pale, well-manicured hand touches Greene’s sleeve. He’s smiling down at her, dimples engaged, and obviously pleased that he’s made her laugh.

  I turn to see Jaime studying me, but the minute our eyes meet he looks away.

  I wonder what that’s about for only a few seconds, then scope out the mirror. The table is empty except for two half-filled glasses.

  Mindy puts one hand in front of her mouth and laughs again. This time both Greene and Platón join in. They look my way, eyebrows raised, and Greene says, “What do you think about that? Can you believe it?”

  When the drinks come, we all clink glasses, and Mindy gives the detective an adoring look. The woman is totally smitten.

  We finish our cocktails and go through a bottle of merlot before the veal finally arrives. Greene orders a second bottle and we dive into our entrées.

  Over dessert, the detective tells everyone about my invitation for cocktails at six the following evening and calls a meeting for ten a.m. to talk strategy.

  It’s near midnight by the time we exit.

  When Greene and Cha head for his car parked around the corner, Jaime offers to escort me back to the hotel.

  We walk a few blocks in silence. Jaime’s hands are jammed in his pockets, and his head is slightly bent forward. I keep in step, glad I am wearing loafers with thick rubber soles.

  When we stop for the light on Park Avenue, Jaime says, “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “Yes, a little, but if I can get Sigrid Hale out in the open, it’ll be worth it.”

  “But, Allie, why all this effort to find Carolina Montoya’s killer? She was a criminal—a drug-runner. She wasn’t innocent.”

  “That may be true, but I knew her long before she got dragged into the loop. You could say she was almost like a sister. So delightful and so funny—and a good friend to Angela.”

  The light turns green and we forge across Park Avenue.

  When we turn north on Madison, I say, “Thanks for walking me this far. I can make it back to the hotel from here.”

  He puts a restraining hand on my arm. “I thought we might take a nightcap in the bar. You up for that?”

  That’s a surprise. Jaime’s been ignoring me since the last evening we spent together.

  We choose the same table, but this time he takes the seat across from me.

  When the tequila arrives, Jaime takes a sip then settles back. “I enjoyed our last nightcap together very much. In fact I was hoping that evening would be the beginning of—well, you know.”

  Then I hadn’t misread that kiss. Something happened. But what? I take a sip, set my glass on the table and gather my courage. “What changed your mind?”

  He stares at me through lowered lashes. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “Why waste time being coy? I’m eager to clear up whatever seems to have gotten in the way of our friendship because I really like you a lot.”

  He gives me another once-over, takes a sip of his drink and says, “When I got down to the lobby, it struck me like a bolt of lightning.”

  “Lightning?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but the evening we shared was wonderful. And then kissing you felt so right. I suddenly realized how very much you had come to mean to me. So, it seemed to make good sense that I return to your room to—to—” He gives me a half smile.

  “I was about to knock when something or someone hit the other side of the door to your room. God help me, I’m embarrassed to say I put my ear against it and listened.”

  I remember backing into the door, trapped in Bill’s arms as every last shred of my resolve melted.

  Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away.

  Jaime leans across the table to touch my hand. “I heard Cotton say he wanted you. That’s when I decided to make my exit.”

  “You should have waited. Bill left right after you did.”

  Jaime gives me a hopeful look. “Then it’s finally over between you two?”

  “It should be, shouldn’t it? Bill has lied to me—again and again. There’s no doubt he’s in with Danes and Hale. In fact you were the one who confirmed that there was no contact between Bill and the men in the van. But, heaven help me, I can’t bring myself to believe he’s solely working with the other side.

  “He was very worried about what I saw on the ground floor of the townhouse. In fact he told me not to make a move until I heard from him. Good thing he didn’t tell me to hold my breath. It’s been two days—and I’m so damn frustrated I could scream.” My tears come as a complete surprise, but it’s impossible to hold them back. Ashamed, I cover my eyes with my hands.

  When I feel Jaime’s arms around me, I lean into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted.”

  His voice is soft above me. “Betrayed is more like it.”

  Chapter 42

  THE TEAM, including the two men who will be stationed in the van across the street from the townhouse, is seated around the table. Though we all have on our outerwear, we shiver while Greene goes over the plan.

  The men in the van will go on duty at five forty-five, track my arrival and departure and report my movements to Greene and Jaime, who will be parked not far from the townhouse.

  After the detective gives everybody a high five and sends us on our way, he stops me at the door. “I gotta hand it to you, Allie. You’ve got guts. Don’t worry. We’ll be on you like white on rice.” I’m about to thank him when he grows serious. “I mean that about the coverage. We’re solid on you. Just know that the men will be tracking the transmitters and reporting to Jaime and me.”

  I suppress a small shiver and give him my biggest smile. “Hey. I’m not one bit worried. I should be in and out of there with no trouble at all.”

  The detective gives me a long hard look. “Yes, if all our plans go well, your visit should be a ninety-nine percenter. But remember that precarious one percent. A lot of things could go wrong, like what if Danes frisks you and finds your weapon?”

  I shrug. “I’m licensed in Texas to carry a concealed weapon. I have my permit on me.”

  Greene nods. “If he takes it?” “He takes it.”

  “Okay then, say both transmitters go dead and we have no ears. What do you want Platón and me to do then?”

  “This may be my only chance to find out who Hale is. The chance that both transmitters would conk out is slim to none. But, if you should lose contact, give me until tomorrow morning when the bank opens. After that, it’s your call.”

  ————

  Because I’m a freak about being punctual, I’m at the front door of the townhouse at one minute to six.

  Cliff opens the door. “Right on time, I see. Come on in.”

  Once were in the living room Cliff turns. “Let me take your coat.”

  I slip it off and hand it to him. “Where is she? I thought we were to meet.”

  “In her suite.” He pauses, “Or should I say yours? Cocktails will be there. But first, I want to show you your doppelganger. I’m telling you, the resemblance is eerie.”

  He motions me into the dining room and points to a large square canvas above the sideboard. “Voilá.”

  I gasp and take a step back. The face is definitely mine. The body is not. The line drawing is of a Rubenesque nude reclining on a chaise longue, legs splayed—the expression on her face—pure ecstasy.

  At first glance, the picture seems more decorous than the other two due to the bright floral print draped over the model’s lower torso. But closer inspect
ion reveals that one of her hands is also beneath the material—the apparent reason for her delight.

  When I turn away in disgust, Cliff chuckles. “A little too raw for you?”

  “News flash. It’s the beginning of a new century.”

  He smiles and waves away my comment. “Oh, don’t be so PC.”

  We take a few steps to the foot of the stairs and Cliff turns. “The third floor is a secure area. Do you mind leaving your purse down here?”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Usually, I would say not at all, but Mother’s been a little paranoid lately about meeting strangers.” He points to the console. “Your purse will be safe here. I promise.”

  An unexpected move, but one I can handle; after all, I have the second transmitter on me.

  When Cliff sees my hesitation he says, “It’s either the purse or meeting Mother. Her conditions, not mine.”

  Reluctantly I set my purse on the console and pray the men in the van will still have contact.

  Cliff leads me up the two flights to Angela’s old room. I hesitate before the closed door, heart rolling against my rib cage. Sigrid Hale is on the other side.

  He steps around me, and gives a gentle rap. “We’re here and thirsty. Open up.”

  A series of clicks and slides precedes the snap of a bolt, then the door swings in.

  Standing before me is a woman dressed in a gray floor-length, long-sleeved, wide-shouldered crêpe jersey à la Joan Crawford. On her head is a matching turban. Her neck is concealed with a high collar. She wears darkly tinted silver-rimmed pixie glasses studded with tiny diamonds.

  Sigrid Hale looks me up and down, then whispers. “Hello, Miss Armington, please do come in.”

  Cliff skirts us and heads down the hallway to the seating area of the bedroom.

  What a change from Angela’s taste. Though after seeing the entry floor, why should I be surprised?

  The walls and shutters are a deep green. In fact the whole room, with the exception of the white ceiling, is monochromatic. Two easy chairs that share a round table and an ottoman are across from a comfortable love seat flanked by small end tables. All are upholstered in a matching fabric, as is the coverlet for the single twin bed. The effect is stunning—like stepping into a jungle at dusk.