“I’ll give the driver directions once we’re on the freeway,” Hector replied. He climbed into the vehicle, then rolled down the window and stared at Mike for a few moments, eyes narrowed. “Make sure there are no more problems,” he advised. “I’ll meet you on Wednesday, provided there aren’t any additional security issues.”
“There won’t be.” Mike promised as he closed the door. He watched the limo disappear around the side of the garage, then stomped into the house.
“Took you long enough,” Mike growled as Stu entered his office. “Did you find it?”
“No, but neither did the Feds,” Stu replied. “They’re still looking.” He pulled his chair closer to Mike’s desk. “Is it okay to talk?”
“Yeah. Wazzle rechecked the office. It’s clear. I was right; the bug was from the Feds. Fucking bastards.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Well?”
“Kate’s dead. We trailed her to the complex. She collapsed right after she got there, and the paramedics couldn’t revive her.”
“Did you check the Mercedes?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t there.”
“Delivery truck?”
“Nothing.”
Mike pounded his fist on the desktop. “Where the fuck is it? Did she have it on her?”
“No.” Stu rubbed the side of his cheek with his knuckle, then glanced toward his boss. “I did see something I think you ought to know. The florist who made the arrangements is Kate’s next-door neighbor.”
“What the fuck do you mean she’s the next door neighbor? You sure?”
Stu nodded. “Yeah. She came out to talk to the cops, and I recognized her. The cops grilled her pretty good, but she stuck to her story.”
“Think she’s in on the deal?”
Stu shook his head. “No. She didn’t know Kate was working with the Feds.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because there were three Secret Service agents standing outside the apartment. She thought they were cops.”
“Where’s she now?”
“She left with some guy. Looked like she was planning to stay with him.”
Mike rose from his chair and walked over to the window. “Go back to the complex. Wait until everything quiets down, then go through both apartments—Kate’s and the neighbor’s. The Feds better not find that tape.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Cassette tape. Wazzle says it’s probably fits in one of those handheld recorders.” Mike grabbed Stu’s arm as he left. “Find that tape. If you don’t, pay the florist bitch a visit. Maybe she knows more than she told the cops.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You better. I’m holding you responsible for the truck getting away,” Mike informed him. He picked up the phone as Stu left and punched in a number.
“Stegas.”
“I have a loose end that needs to be taken care of. Interested?”
“Depends. What’s the target?”
“Female. I’ll double your normal fee.”
“I’m listening.”
“How soon can you be in Vegas?”
“Five days.”
“Fine. Let me know where to send the details.”
Mike disconnected the call and leaned back to consider his options. Tonight had been a fiasco, but he was sure he’d find the tape before the Feds did. If Kate hadn’t had it on her when she died, then it must still be at the villa. He wondered if the neighbor was in on the deal, then decided that it didn’t matter. She was as good as dead already, because once Stegas got done with her, the desert birds would be picking the meat off her bones.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The beep, beep, beep of an alarm woke Emily from a deep sleep. Out of habit, she reached across the bed to shut it off, then bolted upright when her wrist banged against the edge of the nightstand. Memories of the preceding night flooded her brain, and she allowed herself the luxury of burying her face in the pillow and wishing that it had all been part of some grotesque dream. Unfortunately it hadn’t. Kate was still dead, and she’d spent the night in Glen’s apartment because her front entryway was covered in Kate’s blood.
The sound of a door closing told her Glen was awake. It was time to get out of bed. She entered the living room as he returned with a morning paper. “Morning.”
He tossed the paper onto the kitchen table and watched her cross the room. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a log. I thought I’d have trouble falling asleep, but I passed out the moment my head hit the pillow.”
“Me, too.” The coffee pot gurgled, and he glanced toward the counter. “Want some coffee?”
“Please.” She sat down and scanned the headline section front to back. “I thought for sure Kate’s death would make the headlines. It’s not even listed on the back of the front section.”
“It’s probably buried in another part of the paper. I guess the details weren’t gory enough to make the front page.” He sipped his coffee and stared at her for a moment. “You know, the fact that it didn’t make the headlines might be a blessing in disguise. The last thing we need right now is a bunch of television and newspaper people hanging around.”
She nearly dropped her cup. “You cold hearted bastard. How can you even think about slot machines? For God’s sakes, Glen, someone we both know was murdered in our own complex. What’s wrong with you?”
He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, Emily. I liked Kate. But she would be the first to tell you that life goes on.” He covered her fingers with his. “Besides, there’s every chance that her death might have been the result of what she did for a living.”
Emily snatched her hand away. “Why didn’t you mention that to the cops last night?”
“They already thought about that angle. That’s why they asked if we knew what she did for a living.”
“Do you really think it had something to do with her being a prostitute?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s for the cops to figure out, not us. Our part’s over.” He patted her hand, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “How about some breakfast? I still have a little time before I leave.”
“Nah. I’m not hungry.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She drained her cup. “I better head home so I can get ready for work.”
“Your keys are on the coffee table. Why don’t you plan on staying here again tonight?”
She shook her head. “Let’s wait and see what happens. I appreciate your offer, but I’d feel better staying in my own apartment. No offense.” She flashed him a grateful smile, picked up her keys, and let herself out.
For once she was glad of the eerie stillness that blanketed the complex in the early morning hours. No one badgered her for gory details about Kate’s death as she walked the short distance to her apartment. Grateful for the reprieve, Emily paused outside the crime scene tape and stared at the dried blood. The dark stain was even larger in the daylight. Depression hovered above her like a thundercloud, and she took comfort in the fact that at least Kate hadn’t died alone. She sighed softly and moved toward the door.
It took a few moments for her brain to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Her hands shook and her keys slipped to the ground when she realized that someone had forced the door open. She lifted a shaky arm to push the door inward.
The apartment was in shambles. Furniture was overturned, cushions were ripped open, and nothing remained on the walls. Her stomach roiled; she raced outside to throw up, retching until nothing else would come up. Once her knees stopped shaking, she crept back into the living room and dialed Glen’s number. “Glen, it’s Emily. Someone’s broken into my apartment.”
“Shit. I’ll be right over. Don’t touch anything.” A few moments later, he met her on the walkway. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I can’t believe this happened. Who could have done this?”
“Did you call the cops?”
“Not yet.”
“You better call them. I’ll wait here.”
She spent several minutes on the phone, then joined him outside.
“What did they say?”
“Not to touch anything until they got here.”
“It’s a good thing you stayed with me last night. There’s no telling what would’ve happened if you’d been here.”
“Gee, thanks for reminding me. Now I’ll really feel safe sleeping here.”
He laughed. “You know what I meant.” He hugged her tight. “At least you’ve still got your sense of humor.”
“Yeah. Well, that’s about all I have. Everything else is either broken or torn apart.”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You’re going to stay with me until we get this figured out. Did you think to call your boss?”
“Oh my God, I forgot. I’ll be right back.” She dashed into the apartment. When she returned, the police still hadn’t arrived.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to touch anything.”
“I’ve already used the phone twice; one more call wasn’t going to make any difference. Besides, my fingerprints are already on the phone.”
“That’s true, I guess. Where’s your cell phone?”
“In my purse, battery’s dead.”
He shook his head in disbelief and glanced at his watch. “Want me to wait until the cops come?”
“No, thanks. I’m a big girl; I can do it by myself. Besides, there’s nothing you can do. The damage is already done, and the cops will be here any minute.”
He hugged her one last time and set off for the parking lot. The police arrived a few minutes later. Emily was surprised to see the same detectives from the night before.
“Have you touched anything?” Detective Walgren asked.
“Just the front door and the phone. I used it to call you and work.”
“Can you tell if anything’s missing?”
She surveyed the wreckage that used to be her tidy apartment. “I don’t think so. I mean, my television and stereo are still here. Want me to check the bedroom?”
“Yeah, but don’t touch anything. We’ll probably dust for prints.”
Her computer was still in the bedroom, as well as her clothes. “This is really weird,” she announced when she returned. “Nothing’s missing. It looks like someone got mad and tore up the place. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Could they have been looking for something?” Agent Curtis suggested.
She held out her hands in a silent plea. “What? I don’t have anything of value.” She stared at Kate’s apartment for a second, then clapped her hand to her chest when a thought occurred to her. “Do you think whoever did this mistook my apartment for Kate’s?” she asked. “I’ve only been in her apartment a couple of times, but I know she owned some very expensive antiques.” She studied the cops for a moment, then continued, “Maybe whoever killed her decided to come back and burglarize her apartment.”
“Unfortunately we’ll need a search warrant before we can go inside.” Walgren scratched his head as Emily moved to the window and stared through the gaps in Kate’s curtains.
“Her apartment looks worse than mine.”
Walgren peered through the window, then motioned to his partner. The two of them spoke for a moment, then Detective Monroe walked away.
“Is everything okay?” Emily asked.
“Monroe’s gone to call in the fingerprint guys,” Walgren explained. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”
“Is he going to get a search warrant?”
“Yeah. We’ll print your apartment while we’re waiting for the warrant.”
Emily remained outside as the fingerprint crew dusted for prints. After they’d worked for an hour, she joined Detective Walgren. “Did they find anything?”
He nodded. “A few prints. We’re going to run them and see if we get any hits.”
“Can I clean up after they’re done?”
“Yeah. They’re almost through. It looks like this was a professional job, so don’t get your hopes up about finding out who did it any time soon,” he advised.
“Thanks. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Sorry we couldn’t be more help.”
The apartment felt strangely empty once the police left. Emily fixed herself a cup of instant coffee, then called her insurance agent and arranged to have an adjuster review the damage. Since there was nothing she could do until after he finished his inspection, she decided to go on to work. She paused at the doorway to pick up a handful of CDs and shoved them into her purse. The calming music would help ease her frazzled nerves as she drove the short distance to the shop.
Sara was busy with customers when she arrived, so Emily grabbed the list of orders off the spindle and moved into the workroom. Thankfully, the arrangements were small enough to keep her busy, but not overly so. She settled down to work.
“Was the murder I heard about on the radio in your complex?” Sara asked a few minutes later. “I thought I recognized the address.”
Emily nodded, but kept on working. “It was my neighbor.”
“Oh my God! That gorgeous woman who came in and bought the arrangements? She’s dead? Oh my God. That’s horrible. What did you do? Tell me all about it,” Sara begged. “Don’t you dare leave out anything. I want all the gory details.”
“There’s not much to tell. Somebody knocked on the door, and when I opened it, my neighbor fell to the floor and died.”
“Holy shit! You didn’t sleep there last night, did you? I know I couldn’t stay in an apartment where somebody died.” Sara shuddered. “Too creepy.”
“I stayed with a friend.”
“What did the police say?”
The bell signaling a customer interrupted Emily’s reply.
“Damn,” Sara whined. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got to hear the rest of this.” She eased off her chair to wait on the customer and returned a few minutes later. “There’s somebody here to see you,” she said in a voice that wobbled.
Emily looked up. “What’s wrong?” she asked, noting the sudden pallor of Sara’s complexion.
Sara moved closer. “It’s that man. You know—the one who’s a gangster.”
Chapter Thirty
Emily’s mouth felt as dry as the sand in the desert. Stu! “Did...did he say want he wanted?”
“No, but he doesn’t look happy,” Sara whispered. “Want me to call security?”
She shook her head. Her first impulse had been to call the cops, but common sense told her that bringing in security might worsen the situation. Stu wasn’t stupid. He’d know she was the one who’d instigated the call. Would he make a scene if she asked him to leave? Or worse, would he accost her in the parking lot after work? Emily decided she couldn’t chance pissing him off.
“Don’t call them yet. I’ll try to get rid of him. Maybe he just wants to order another arrangement.”
“Yeah, right,” Sara retorted. “You going out there?”
“Somebody has to.” Emily stepped past the edge of the worktable, then backtracked and grabbed a pair of pruning shears. The metal scissors felt heavy in her smock, but she didn’t care. At least she wouldn’t be defenseless when she faced Stu.
“You’re not going to stab him, are you?” Sara asked in a hushed voice.
“Of course not. I just feel better knowing they’re there.” Emily patted the bulge. “Stay here. If it sounds like things are getting out of hand, call security.”
Sara inched closer to the phone. “Okay. Be careful.”
Emily moved to the doorway and tried to summon a smile. Talking to an alleged mobster was the last thing she felt like doing. She took a quick breath and walked hesitantly toward him, keeping the counter between them. Sara wasn’t kidding. The man looked like something out of a forties gangster movie—big, muscled, and threatening.
Stu narrowed his eyes and scowled at her approach. “Took you long enough. Where the hell were you?” he demanded.
“You wanted to
speak to me?”
He twisted toward her, and she noticed a conspicuous lump under his jacket. Her throat constricted. Shit! The situation was getting worse by the minute.
“What took you so long?”
She ignored his question and tried to think of a way to get rid of him. Her glance darted nervously around the shop. The flowers...of course! “I’m afraid we won’t have any irises for a couple of weeks. Supplier problems.”
“I’m here to talk about Kate.”
“Kate?” Emily licked dry lips. “She...she died last night.”
Stu’s hand snaked out and clamped around her left forearm. “My boss wants to make sure whoever murdered her gets what’s coming to him.”
Her stomach churned as she struggled to free her arm. “Let go of me.”
“What do you know about it?” Stu demanded, tightening his grip.
“I don’t know anything. Let go of my wrist or I’ll scream.” Emily raised her voice an octave, hoping Sara would hear and make the call. The front of her smock ‘clunked’ against the counter, and she reached for the pruning shears. Her arm came up, holding the shears.
As quickly as she moved, Stu was faster. His free hand lashed out and slammed her wrist against the countertop. The impact freed the shears, and they slid off the counter.
“Don’t piss me off.” He increased the pressure on her hand, and an agonizing wave of pain shot up her arm. “You won’t like the consequences.”
Realizing he was in control, Emily lowered her gaze and stopped struggling.
Stu snorted derisively, then let go. Using his free hand, he unbuttoned his jacket and revealed the gun tucked into his waistband.
Crap! Now what was she going to do? Where the hell was security? Surely Sara had made the call by now. “Can’t we talk about this?” she pleaded.
Stu grabbed her wrist and twisted. Emily scrunched her eyes tight and clenched her teeth to keep from revealing how much pain he was inflicting. Stu jerked her arm again, this time less painfully. Frightened, she opened her eyes, lifted her gaze to his, and then immediately wished she hadn’t. His dark eyes glittered, reminding her of a cobra ready to strike. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. Mesmerized by those soulless, shining orbs, all she could do was wait helplessly for the killing blow.
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