Stealing the Moon & Stars
Page 8
He sounded sleepy. “Miss me already? What’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with T-Metro. There’s been a break-in at the office. I’m on my way there now.”
“Shit. Meet you there. Drive safe.” She could have sworn she heard him zip his pants.
Eddie was on his way.
Am I the helpless female depending on the big strong man to come riding to my rescue? Relying on him was just a different way of copping out, like relying on her trust fund. Two sides of the same coin. Neither path was the way to independence.
She knew when she arrived at the office she would feel violated and vulnerable—the same way she felt when Katie's apartment had been burglarized.
But did bringing Eddie into play make her less self-sufficient? The answer was no. Wasn’t that what partners were for? To rely on? Half the business belonged to him anyway.
Yet, how would she ever manage without him? She shivered at the thought and admitted it was a possibility she never wanted to face. She needed him for more than just business reasons. She cared for him beyond partner, even beyond friend. Finally she was being honest, but for now, honest only with herself.
CHAPTER 14
A dark midsize SUV with T-Metro Security painted in bold white letters sat in front of the office, along with two SPD squad cars. The emergency lights were flashing on the squad cars and the driver’s side door stood open on one of them. Scottsdale’s finest were already on the job. Then again, it was Scottsdale. North Scottsdale at that. There probably wasn’t anything else happening on a weeknight. They would hardly be scurrying from crime to crime.
Under a light pole beside the T-Metro patrol unit, a uniformed cop stood talking to a husky guy Jordan recognized, Bernie Smyth, the night patrolman for T-Metro Security. She had talked to him a few times as he made his rounds on those occasional nights she stayed late at the office.
She got out of her Jeep and stood watching as two more cops came out the open front door of the office and joined the two men under the lamppost.
She knew one of the cops. Tim Horn was a friend and department contact of Eddie’s. They were golf buddies who occasionally played in a foursome on Saturday mornings. Good. Tim would take the break-in seriously, personally, and probably share info with Eddie.
Their voices carried across the twenty or so feet separating her from them. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but she could tell that Bernie, the security guy, was doing all the talking. He liked to talk.
Tires squealed on the pavement behind her.
Jordan turned and squinted against the glare of the headlights as Eddie made like a Formula One driver and wheeled the Porsche into the parking lot, pulling into a spot near her Cherokee.
As if they had a will of their own, her feet turned her around and carried her in his direction. The car door popped open. With the grace of a jaguar, Eddie slid out of the low-slung seat, slammed the door behind him and, in a flash, was standing before her. He wore a Gold’s Gym T-shirt and jeans. A canvas and leather messenger bag was slung over his shoulder.
“You doing okay?” He put his arm around her as they walked together toward the group gathered at the front entrance. “You sounded kind of shook on the phone.”
She fought the urge to melt up against him. “Kind of shook? Ya think? Whole different story when it happens to you, isn’t it? Makes you feel …” it took a second to find the right word, “I don’t know … creepy.”
“Yeah. It’s creepy, all right. You think how dare they. Gets your blood up pretty good.”
It never took much to get Eddie Marino’s blood up, but in this case, it was justified. Hers was up pretty good too.
“Your friend Tim Horn’s here.”
“Tim’s a good guy. He’ll be straight with us. I’m glad he’s here.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
He squeezed her shoulder and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. His bemused expression said, These mixed signals are making me crazy. “Let’s go see what’s what.”
With a rueful smile, Officer Horn left the group and came to meet them halfway. “Marino. Jordan. This really sucks.”
“Totally.” They spoke in unison.
“We’ve been inside. It’s clear. The place isn’t completely trashed, but they went through it real good. You guys ready to walk it, maybe give us an idea of what’s missing?”
Jordan turned toward the office. “Sure.”
Eddie fell into step beside her. “Born ready.”
The officers led the way.
“They smashed the door in,” Tim explained.
“Amateurs.” Eddie pointed to the shattered doorframe.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Bernie piped up, “at first anyway, but then I thought, what if it was somebody doing their damnedest to make you think it was amateurs?”
“Professionals pretending to be amateurs?” Officer Horn sounded doubtful. “Not likely.”
The others followed him inside.
Chaos greeted them. Jordan sagged. “Oh. My. God.”
Everything formerly on top of a desk or cabinet was now on the floor: computers, papers, photo frames, pens, notepads, inboxes, outboxes—all of it smashed or crumpled.
The security guard offered his opinion again. “Detective agency gets broken into. You think maybe it’s got something to do with a case.”
“You think?” Eddie sniped.
Jordan gave Eddie the look. This was exactly what she didn’t need right now.
He rolled his eyes.
“Nope. I’m thinking it wasn’t amateurs.” Bernie shook his head and rubbed his stubbly jaw.
Tim Horn handed his card to the security guard. “You can leave now, Mr. Smyth. I’m sure they’ll want you down at T-Metro headquarters to file your report. If it’s not too much trouble, could you email me a copy when you finish it?”
“No trouble, Officer.” Bernie turned to go. “You sure? I mean I could stick around. Used to be on the job back in Jersey. Maybe I can help.”
Tim Horn shook his head. “Not necessary. We’ll take it from here.”
Bernie nodded and turned to leave, but something about the sag of his shoulders and the slackness of his mouth touched Jordan. Also, what he’d said earlier—about it not being amateurs—nagged at her.
She caught Eddie’s eye, jerked her head toward the door then followed the security guard out. “Mr. Smyth, hang on a second.”
Bernie stopped walking and turned back. “What can I do for you, Miss Welsh?”
“Call me, Jordan, please.”
“Me, I’m just Bernie.”
“I just wanted to ask, Bernie, what makes you think it was pros? The door was demolished. Not exactly subtle.”
“Ah,” he waved her off, looking back at the office door behind them, “what do I know?”
“I value your opinion.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You said you used to be on the job. That counts for something.”
He pulled himself up to his full height and sucked in his gut. “Well, you used to see jobs like this back home, places like this, as a private dick and all—pardon the term, ma’am.”
She suppressed a smile. “No problem.”
“You see, the alarm sounded at twelve forty-eight. I was up north making my rounds—you know the big medical square over on … I got here in sixteen minutes. The front door was standing open and the perps were already gone. SPD was just a couple of minutes behind me. What I’m sayin’ is, whoever did this got in, did a lot of damage and got out in a pretty short time.”
His uniform shirt was short sleeved and he wasn’t wearing a jacket. He shivered and rubbed his forearms with his hands. Probably post-adrenaline-rush letdown. She had it too.
“I think there was more than one guy, and I think the smashed-in door was just to throw us off the scent. Back in Trenton, we used to see jobs look like this when the mob was involved.”
She grabbed hold of his arm. “The mob?”
She let go of his arm and stepped back. “Sure. I know what you mean. Mob.” She laughed a little, but it sounded forced even to her. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Bernie. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, Miss—Jordan. Hope you get this all sorted out. You know where to find me if I can do anything.”
He turned away and so did she.
Eddie and the policemen were coming out of the office as she headed back in.
Horn said, “Tough break about the surveillance equipment, buddy. You ever get anything off it, let me know.”
She frowned but kept her mouth shut.
“You’ll be the first one I call, dude,” Eddie said. “Same goes for you, right?”
The two men shook on it.
“You know it. Anything I can give you, I will.” Horn started to walk away, calling back over his shoulder, “See you at the nineteenth hole?”
“Not if I see you first.”
Horn laughed and kept going.
Jordan stopped beside Eddie and kept her voice low. “Something wrong with the surveillance equipment?”
He shook his head, still smiling and waving at the cops. “Can’t imagine why there would be. Let’s go back inside.”
“Show me.” She walked with him into his private office.
He slung the messenger bag onto the desk, pulled a laptop from it and turned it on.
“It’ll take a minute or two to download.” He drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Come on, you slow-assed piece of crap.”
Yep, his blood was up all right.
She walked over to the corner and looked up at the shattered dummy camera. “They did a helluva job on this one.”
“Same with all the bogus cameras. Smashed the bejeezus out of ’em. They thought they covered their butts all right,” Eddie said.
“So where are they now?” Her gaze swept the room. “The real ones, I mean.”
“Around. Thermostats, smoke alarms. Here. There. Hiding in plain sight.”
“What’d they take?” she asked.
“Pretty sure it was just Wachowski’s laptop. Did you hide the backup hard drive someplace?”
“At home, in my safe.”
“Okay. Here we go. Finally. I need to see a man about some faster equipment. This thing takes a week and a half to boot up.” Eddie was a hard man to please. A week and a half was a bit of an exaggeration; it took a minute and a half at most.
He righted one of the chairs and held it for her.
Suddenly drained, she was glad to sit.
On the laptop were seven frames. One took up a quarter of the screen. The other six were smaller. The pictures were in color and as clear as digital TV. None of that fuzzy convenience store video for Eddie Marino.
The two of them appeared behind the desk.
“Good-looking couple.” His breath stirred her hair. The loop reached the right spot and Eddie’s voice became more animated. “Uh-oh. Here they come.”
He isolated the rear storage room camera and the two of them watched as the back door opened and three men entered. All wore dark clothes and ski masks. They moved through the rooms, ransacking as they went.
“Bastards.” Watching it happen was simultaneously pissing her off and making her feel vulnerable.
“There. Look.” Eddie reached around her and froze the big frame on the burglar who had to have help from the other two just to break the lock on her desk drawer before lifting Milo Wachowski’s laptop from inside. After a half-minute or so, Eddie unfroze the frame, and the man rushed from her private office cradling the laptop in his arms.
The trio continued through the other rooms, sweeping desktops and counters and smashing computers, phones, and lamps. Using a sledgehammer, one cracked the front door on the way out.
“Just like Bernie said—slick pros making as big a mess as possible to throw us off track.” She looked at Eddie.
“Maybe the old fart knows his stuff after all.”
“Definitely pros, at least two of them.”
“Yeah. What’s up with the third guy? Talk about a fish out of water.” He laughed.
“I know who the third man is.”
“Sounding pretty sure of yourself.”
“It’s impossible to disguise that physique. I met him at Nick Brenner’s office. I’d know him anywhere—the Pillsbury Doughboy. The man in my office, the one who did the actual snatch, was Milo Wachowski.”
“No way.” Eddie laughed. “Well, I guess that saves us having to tell him somebody swiped his computer.”
“Pretty obvious he knew where to come to find it, but I have no idea how he found out I’m the one who took it in the first place.”
Jordan made a call to a twenty-four-hour emergency locksmith and door replacement company. They were Johnny-on-the-spot and working on site within a half hour. While they labored to secure the office for the night, Jordan and Eddie restored order as best they could.
By four-thirty the office was locked up and they were ready to leave.
In the parking lot, Eddie escorted her safely inside her car and turned toward the Porsche.
She called after him through the open window, “Don’t envy you having to call Gina. She’s not going to be happy. Lotta, lotta cleanup in there. Pretty much all office stuff, things she’ll have to do.”
“Flip you for it?” He sounded hopeful.
She shook her head. “I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. You call her.”
He dropped to one knee and clasped his hands together in supplication. “Pretty please? She won’t yell at you.”
Right. Like Gina could intimidate him. Like anybody could intimidate him. She laughed. “Okay. Let’s offer to buy her a first-class ticket back to Ohio for semester break if she can get new equipment in, loaded, and up and running by noon.”
He stood and blew her a kiss.
What a night. What a case. What a man.
She pretended to catch the kiss. Right back at ya, babe.
CHAPTER 15
Jordan wandered out into the kitchen in her sleep shirt and flip-flops. Although she’d slept in until nine after the previous night’s fiasco, she still only managed four hours’ sleep. Jordan was never what you would call sharp in the morning, but this was ridiculous.
Hannah was already at work in the great room, an old sock pulled over her hand for dusting. She was perky, energetic, and humming. It was depressing.
“Morning, Hannah.” Jordan yawned.
“Morning, Miss Sleepyhead.”
How could anyone be cheerful twenty-four seven?
“Late night?”
“You could say that. Yeah.” Jordan didn’t burden Hannah by mentioning the break-in. She would worry. Nothing worse than someone worrying and trying to maintain her cheerfulness at the same time. Just stop it, Jordan.
Hannah had left a plate of croissants and fruit on the kitchen counter for her. Jordan munched a chunk of melon while she brewed a cup of cappuccino.
As Hannah moseyed on back into the kitchen, the first words out of her mouth were, “How was your date with Eddie?”
Jordan looked at her a full ten seconds before answering. “It wasn’t a date, but it was very nice.”
Hannah laughed. “Nice? You were out last night with an absolutely gorgeous young man and you’re telling me it was nice?”
“It was business.”
“Sure it was.” Hannah pulled open the dishwasher to unload it. “I’m just a silly old busybody, which works for me because otherwise I wouldn’t get away with telling you that you’re crazy if you don’t latch onto him.”
“You’re starting to sound like my mother.” She laid her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I have one mother already, sweetie. No offense.”
Jordan picked up the plate and her cappuccino and headed for t
he den. Sadie tagged along, keeping an eye on Jordan in case there was a snacking opportunity.
Work was what she needed. Focus on the case, not Eddie.
She opened her office safe and removed the backup hard drive. She was just accessing it on her laptop when her cellphone rang.
Smooth Operator ringtone. Eddie. Were his ears ringing? “Hello.”
“Good morning.” His sexy voice definitely wouldn’t help her concentrate on work. “What are you wearing?”
She laughed. Something pretty special about a man who can make you laugh. “Army boots and a rain slicker.”
“Oh, baby,” he growled.
They both laughed.
“Did you have a chance to see the morning paper?” Eddie asked.
“No. Didn’t bring it in yet. What is it?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“Sorry. Just trying to prepare you. Don’t freak out. The headline is Moon & Stars Children’s Cancer Foundation Funds Missing.”
Jordan choked on the croissant and coughed. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“No way, José.”
“Damn. Okay, tell me.”
Last night’s break-in and now this? The gods weren’t smiling upon her.
“It says, ‘This morning during an interview with the media, District Attorney Henry J. Carlen stated if contributions are, in fact, being misappropriated at the Moon and Stars Children’s Cancer Foundation, he will prosecute those responsible. When asked where the District Attorney’s office obtained their information, Carlen stated the misuse of funds was brought to their attention anonymously. Embezzlement charges are pending further investigation.’”
“Just great. I gotta go. This is going to take some serious damage control.”
She hustled out to get the paper.
She read the unfortunate article several times. It didn’t make it any easier to stomach. She was upset and nervous. Then she was mad. Who in the bloody hell leaked this?