Rocky Mountain Maneuvers

by Cassie Miles

  As he took the paper and read the warning, his expression hardened. His gaze lifted, and he scanned the lobby. “We need to tell Detective Berringer about this.”

  “I agree.” The note was typed on plain white paper—impossible to trace. “There might be fingerprints.”

  “Unlikely. This was a planned, purposeful warning. The person who slipped the note in your purse would be smart enough to wear gloves.” His manner was strictly business. Gone was the gentle manner of the man who had kissed her. Gone was the glow. “When was the last time you looked in your purse?”

  “Not since early this morning.”

  “Think, Molly. Who gave you this note?”

  They’d had a busy day, starting at Pierce’s town house where they confronted Gloria and Denny Devlin. Then, they’d talked to Ronald. “It could be anybody,” she said. “I left my purse unguarded in the church.”

  He refolded the note and filed it in his inner jacket pocket. “We’ll go upstairs and talk to Pierce. Then, we make an appointment with Berringer.”

  “Right.”

  She walked beside him toward the elevators. Though the anonymous note held all kinds of scary portent, Molly was grateful to have received tangible proof that a crime was about to be committed. Saturday afternoon or evening. At the time of Heidi’s wedding.

  Also, the note caused her relationship with Adam to swing back to familiar ground. They were no longer people who had kissed. They were partners.

  Confidently, she said, “Here’s my game plan with Pierce. The first thing is to see if he’s over his alleged amnesia about who stabbed him. We need to find out if he’s been talking to anyone else.”

  Adam nodded. “You should also tell him that you were attacked. If he’s half a man, he’ll feel guilty enough to explain what the hell is going on.”

  “Half a man? Pierce is a big guy.” She grinned up at Adam as they boarded the elevator. “Not that size matters.”

  He didn’t crack a smile. The thing Adam did best was stay on focus. “What else?”

  “We also want to find out why Gloria is so interested in his downtown loft.”

  When she and Adam entered Pierce’s private hospital room, they were immediately confronted by bridal insanity. Heidi, the munchkin-sized bride, flitted back and forth at the foot of Pierce’s bed, totally oblivious to the IV and the various hospital monitors. She was dressed in full wedding regalia and had brought Gloria’s tailor, Stan Lansky, with her.

  “I can’t decide,” she wailed. “The antique necklace from Smythe Jewelry is so glittery that it seems like I need more sparkle in the gown.”

  Propped up on his bed pillows, Pierce looked a thousand times better than yesterday. Instead of the standard hospital gown, he wore black silk pajamas. He raised the arm without an IV to wave. “Molly. Adam. You know Heidi.”

  She rushed at them. Under the frothy gown, her little legs were churning. “You’ve got to help me, Molly.”

  A sedative might be useful. Molly wondered if she could get a dose of whatever painkiller was dripping into Pierce’s bloodstream. His attitude was positively serene. “How can I help?”

  “The necklace,” Heidi said, “might overpower the gown. I need something more on the dress, but I don’t want to add too much.”

  “Honey, there’s no such thing as too much sparkle. You’re the bride. It’s your day. Go ahead and light up the ceremony.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re tall and willowy.” She gestured for Stan Lansky to come closer. “Show Molly what the gown would look like with a sequin belt.”

  The long-suffering tailor dug into a bag of sewing supplies to produce a string of sparkles, which he draped at Heidi’s midsection.

  “Nice,” Molly said. “It calls attention to your tiny little waist. Don’t you think so, Adam?”

  Though he wasn’t listening, Adam managed a nod. Right at this moment, he was surrounded by his most unfavorite things: feminine lacy stuff and a hospital atmosphere. Yet, he wasn’t depressed. His spirits had been permanently elevated by Molly’s impromptu kiss in the lobby, and he had a warm feeling near his heart. Nonetheless, he didn’t want to be stuck in this room any longer than absolutely necessary.

  While Molly and Stan fussed with Heidi’s dress, Adam went to Pierce’s bedside. “You look better,” he said.

  “I’m okay. I had worse injuries when I was playing football. Busted knee. Sprained ankles. Cracked ribs. One time when I was skiing, I got a separated shoulder. That hurt like hell.” He shrugged. “You know what they say?”

  “What?”

  “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

  Though Adam respected his fortitude, this statement didn’t bode well for an investigation. Pierce had gone into battle mode—strong and stoic like a soldier. If he had resolved to protect someone, he’d be hard to break.

  Adam’s words were direct. “But you know this isn’t a game. There’s no referee. No flag on the play. No rules. Somebody tried to kill you. What if they come after you again?”

  “I’ll be ready for them.” He attempted a grin that slid right off his face. “I’m hoping I can go home tomorrow or the next day.”

  That diagnosis was maybe a little too optimistic. Pierce’s eyes had the dazed look of someone who was buzzed on pain meds.

  “It’s good to hear you’re recovering,” Adam said. “Do you remember who stabbed you in the back?”

  “Still a blank.” He shifted his position on the pillows. “I’ve been thinking, Adam. Probably I’ll be okay to handle Heidi’s wedding this weekend. Molly doesn’t have to be involved.”

  Adam glanced over his shoulder at Stan Lansky. The tailor worked for Gloria and would likely report back to her with anything he overheard. Lowering his voice, Adam said, “Molly’s already involved. She was attacked last night.”

  Pierce’s gaze came into focus. He sat up straighter on the bed. “What happened?”

  “They waited for her in the parking lot,” Adam said quietly. “Jumped out of a white delivery van. Came at her with a knife.”

  “Damn,” Pierce muttered. “I’ve got a white delivery van. Somebody could have used it.”

  “Who’s got keys?”

  “Way too many people. Gloria. Denny Devlin. A couple of florists. I use the van as an all-purpose transport for wedding stuff.”

  The effort of sitting up was too much for him, and he fell back against the pillows. He was breathing harder, almost gasping. His throat and cheeks had taken on an unhealthy redness.

  Adam knew he didn’t have much time before Pierce conked out. “Talk to me,” he said. “Come on, Pierce. Tell me what’s really going on.”

  “Weddings,” he said. “Lots of weddings. Brides. Guys in tuxedos. It’s all real pretty. You’d never think…”

  “Of crime,” Adam said, remembering the note. “You’d never think of a crime being committed at a wedding.”

  “Never ever.” His mind was drifting.

  “What’s the crime?” Adam asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  “What happens on Saturday afternoon?”

  “Saturday,” he repeated. “When is Saturday?”

  “Pierce!” Adam leaned close. “You’ve got to focus. You don’t want Molly to be in danger.”

  “That’s the last thing I want.” Suddenly, this big strong guy was on the verge of tears. “I love Molly. She’s amazing.”

  “I know,” Adam said. “That’s why you’ve got to talk to me. Tell me who attacked you.”

  Pierce shook his head. His eyes closed, and he shivered from head to toe. A monitor beside his bed started a loud beeping.

  Aware that he was running out of time, Adam applied more pressure. “If you can’t tell me who, tell me why. Why did they come after you? Why attack Molly?”

  “Can’t say.” He was sinking into unconsciousness. “Lot of money. Millions. Too much glitter.”

  Was he talking about Heidi? Or the reason for his attack? “Diamonds?” Adam
asked.

  “Bad people. Evil.”

  “Who?” Adam wanted to shake the truth out of him. “Who are the evil people?”

  “Killers. Don’t let them hurt her. I love her.”

  “Molly?”

  “Sweet Molly.”

  A red-haired nurse in blue patterned scrubs came into the room and went directly to Pierce. She turned off the beeping monitor and adjusted a band fastened to his arm. “This is too much excitement for you.”

  “It’s okay,” Pierce murmured. “I’m fine.”

  The nurse ignored him. Turning to the other people in the room, she clapped her hands to get their attention. “Visiting time is over.”

  While Heidi voiced several chirpy objections, Adam leaned close to Pierce’s ear. “You own a loft in downtown Denver.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What goes on there?”

  His eyes opened to slits. “Leased. I get. A rent check. In the mail.”

  Before Adam could probe for more details, the nurse confronted him. “I’m sorry, sir. You have to leave.”

  He understood the rules, but this was damn inconvenient. Pierce knew who was behind the attacks. With a little more time and a lot less painkiller, he might open up.

  In the corridor, Adam stood by as Molly spoke in quiet, serious tones to the red-haired nurse. Somehow, he had to make sense of Pierce’s disjointed comments. He’d spoken of evil people. Though Adam wasn’t fond of Denny Devlin or Gloria or Ronald, he wouldn’t describe them as evil. Likely, there were other people involved. People who were far more dangerous.

  It made sense. One of these people who provided wedding services had gotten involved in a criminal scheme. With real criminals. Evil people.

  Maybe Pierce had figured it out. And gotten stabbed for his trouble.

  And what about the glitter that Pierce had mentioned? Diamonds? That was the arena of Lucien Smythe, the jeweler.

  Molly came up to him. “Pierce is okay. Just exhausted. What did he tell you?”

  “Later.”

  She turned back toward Heidi and Stan, neither of whom seemed to be concerned about Pierce or anything else but the dress.

  With a bright smile, Molly said, “Okay, Heidi. Have we got it right? Just a little bit of sparkle on the dress?”

  Her head bobbed up and down. She pointed to various spots on her gown. “Here. And here.”

  “Excuse me,” Stan said. “I need to make notes. Does anyone have a pen?”

  Molly reached into her purse, quickly finding a pen and a notepad. “Here you go.”

  The three of them huddled over the notepad, discussing the placement of reflective glass beading on the gown.

  “It’ll look like raindrops,” Molly said. “Or the first snowfall of winter.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Heidi beamed. “I’ll look like a snow princess.”

  “These bits of sparkle will balance out the antique necklace,” Molly said. “But those diamonds at your throat will draw attention to your pretty face.”

  “You should be a designer,” Heidi gushed.

  “I’ve got style,” Molly said. She turned to Stan. “What do you think? Should I be a designer?”

  “You couldn’t do worse than some of the gowns I’ve seen.” He continued to make notes on the pad. “The bridal business is the place for dramatic style.”

  Adam really couldn’t stand much more of this fluffy nonsense. He clenched his jaw, and his rear molars ground together. He honestly believed everything he’d said to Molly in the church. A fancy wedding didn’t guarantee a good marriage.

  As far as Adam was concerned, the bride could be wrapped in a bedsheet. Actually, he liked that idea. He stole a glance at Molly, imagining her wearing nothing but a sheet. A nice thought.

  Bubbling over with sheer delight, Heidi said, “With these alterations, I’ll have a one-of-a-kind dress.”

  “And you’ll be fantastic.” Molly turned to the tailor. “Do you have everything you need, Stan?”

  He tore off the top sheet of the notepad and handed it back to her. “I’m all set. Heidi and I should get back to the boutique. I have a lot of work to do on this dress before Saturday.”

  Heidi grasped Molly’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re taking care of things at the wedding.”

  “That’s my job,” Molly said. “Actually, it’s Pierce’s job. But I’m happy to step in.”

  Heidi and Stan caught the next elevator. Adam noticed that Stan Lansky had not returned Molly’s pen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It’s not even three o’clock,” Molly said. “If we wanted to, we could stop by Pierce’s loft downtown. I’ve got the keys.”

  “The only place we’re headed is the police station.” Adam ushered her into the passenger side of his car. “Our investigation is over.”

  “Not necessarily,” she said. “I mean, we’ll tell Berringer about everything, but we can—”

  “Stop, Molly.”

  “Maybe we could—”

  “What part of ‘danger, danger, danger’ do you not understand?”

  But she didn’t want to give up.

  She stared through the windshield as he got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Of course, the note was significant, but it didn’t mean they had to quit. “Come on, Adam. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to take a look at Pierce’s loft?”

  “Not without backup.”

  Backup? They’d been dashing around all day without backup. Until now, Adam had seemed convinced that he could handle any threat alone. Why was he being so übercautious. “What did Pierce say to you?”

  “Before I tell you, look in your purse.”

  She eyed him curiously. “I already had one surprise in my purse today.”

  “See if there’s anything missing.”

  A weird request. She opened her oversized bag. Though she applied her organizational principles to sorting the necessary stuff she carried in her purse, it never worked very well. During the course of a regular day, everything got jumbled together. She enumerated the objects. “Cell phone. Wallet. Makeup pouch. Notepad.”

  She ran her hand along the bottom. “Where’s my pen? That was a really nice silver pen. I hope I didn’t lose it.”

  “You didn’t,” Adam said.

  When had she last used the pen? She remembered giving it to Stan Lansky at the hospital. He handed the notepad back to her. But the pen? “Stan swiped my pen.”

  “Your shiny silver pen,” Adam pointed out. “What does that suggest to you?”

  “He’s the magpie.”

  As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. Stan Lansky fit the profile for a petty thief—not bold enough for real crime, not motivated by profit but something far more sinister. Though he seemed quiet and unassuming, easy to ignore among all these other extravagant personalities who plied their trade in the wedding biz, Stan was a very angry man. As the magpie, he could strike back.

  “That poor, frustrated, resentful little man.” She remembered the long-suffering look in Stan’s eyes when Heidi changed her mind ten times within as many minutes. “He puts up with a lot of guff.”

  “He sure as hell does,” Adam agreed wholeheartedly. “I’m surprised he hasn’t gone completely berserk.”

  Something about this theory didn’t quite click. “But how could he be the magpie? Nobody invites the tailor to their wedding.”

  “Only one robbery took place at the actual wedding reception,” Adam said.

  “The Deitrich wedding.” She glanced over her shoulder into the backseat. The brown envelope that Ronald had given her was still there. “We’ll look through these candid photos. If Stan is there, I’d have to say that we’ve caught our thief.”

  “But first,” Adam said as he pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, “we talk to the police.”

  She took the cell phone from her purse and held it toward him. “You should call and make sure Berringer is there before we go to the cop shop.”
<
br />   “You know I don’t talk on the phone while I’m driving.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  “You call Berringer.”

  Her stomach turned. “I’d rather eat worms.”

  In a way, she hated to turn Stan over to the cops. He was a fairly sympathetic character. But she couldn’t ignore the clues, and Berringer needed to be informed. Resigned to the inevitable, she speed-dialed the main number for the Denver Police department. It took only a few minutes to reach Ted Berringer, who wasn’t in his office. She arranged to meet him in a few minutes at a tavern in north Denver and gave the directions to Adam.

  She sank back in her seat and adjusted the seat belt across her breasts. “At least, we have one part of the puzzle figured out. Stan Lansky is the magpie.”

  “There’s more to think about,” Adam said. “How do Stan’s relatively quiet crimes fit into the violence? The bloody attack on Pierce? And the attempted assault on you?”

  Molly considered for a moment. “If Pierce confronted Stan about the petty theft, Stan might have attacked him.”

  “Let’s take a critical look at that idea,” Adam said. “Stan’s not a tall man. He probably only comes up to Pierce’s shoulder.”

  “And he definitely wasn’t the person in black who came after me.”

  “He has a partner,” Adam suggested.

  “I don’t think so. There’s not enough money involved in stolen appliances and trinkets to warrant a partnership. If Stan is the magpie, he isn’t working for a profit. He has his own twisted personal reasons. Resentment. Frustration. Veiled hostility.”

  Adam glanced over at her. “You sound like one of our volunteer psychological profilers.”

  “I’ve been paying attention to what they say.”

  She also had a certain expertise in spotting petty crooks. A long time ago, some were her close companions…and coworkers.

  “And then, there’s the note.” Adam quoted, “‘The crime is set.’”

  “And what does that mean?” she wondered. “It sounds more important than a reference to toaster theft. What crime?”

  She needed more information about Stan. As soon as Molly got to her computer at CCC, she’d check his credit and phone records. Hadn’t he mentioned a wife? Where did he live? She didn’t even know if he worked for Gloria full-time.