Hidden Fire, Kobo

by Terry Odell

  "After my grandfathers," he said. "Apparently those names were common enough in England two generations ago, but they don't cut it here."

  No, she could see how he wouldn't want to go by Percival Elwood. She tore the paper into tiny bits and put it in her bowl, where it soaked up the last remnants of berry juices. "I'll keep calling you Kovak, then," she said.

  "Works for me," he said, getting back to his keyboard.

  She took Randy's computer and searched, trying a few alternative spellings, but nothing popped. "Not here. Guess I should do more advertising at Saint Michael's," she said to herself. Actually, she thought, that might not be a bad idea. Maybe get together with some of the other merchants, arrange for the residents to take a field trip to their business district. Lunch at Sadie's. No, not lunch. Afternoon tea.

  She realized her mind had wandered too far afield and returned to her search, going back six months. Still nothing.

  Randy returned, dropping a newspaper with the sports section exposed onto the table. "Any luck?"

  "I'm assuming you mean the good kind, in which case the answer is no," she said.

  "Never you mind. I've got enough for both of us," Kovak said. "The wizard strikes again." He tapped his chest. "I am the all-powerful silverback gorilla. Your friend over there," he said, pointing to Randy, "despite his excessive height, is a mere organ grinder monkey."

  "That beer you expect me to buy is going to be in your lap, buster," Randy said, glaring at Kovak. But she recognized the affection underlying the insults.

  Kovak sat there, a smirk on his face.

  "I trust you're not waiting for me to grovel," Randy said. "Spill."

  "I think I found nephew Freddie on a genealogy site," Kovak said. "Odds are against there being two Valerie Voorheeses with Fredericks in their family tree. And there's an address outside of Portland." He looked at Sarah with a conspiratorial grin. "Now I'll start with our secret databases."

  She giggled and made a show of covering her eyes with her hands. "No peeking. I promise."

  Kovak laughed and she left him to his keyboard. His eyebrows came together and his lips pursed in and out as he worked.

  "May I ask a question?" she said.

  "Ask away," Randy said.

  "How did the cops find the diamonds? I'm still trying to work out how they could be fired inside those mugs."

  Chief Laughlin's lips tilted upward. "Sometimes you're good and sometimes you just get lucky. This was the latter, I'm afraid. There was a bomb scare at the hotel. During the mandatory evacuation, a K-9 knocked over the mug during the search. It snapped at the seam and the cop went to put the pieces back on the table when he noticed the diamonds on the floor."

  "But how were they hidden? I know I'd have heard something rattle, even if I was in a hurry to get them shipped."

  "Some kind of packing material, I think," Kovak said. "Like fiberglass."

  That made more sense. "Kiln insulation, I'll bet. It would withstand the heat of firing and they could pack it tight enough so there wouldn't be air pockets." She was still impressed at the lengths someone had gone to in devising the hiding system.

  "Wait," Randy said. "How did Mr. Pemberton, or whoever he is, get away?"

  "Sometimes the crooks get lucky, too," Chief Laughlin said. "The theory is he overheard the broadcast on a radio. Cops were all over the place because of the bomb scare—some Middle-Eastern big shot was staying at the hotel—and our man must have cut his losses and run."

  Chief Laughlin looked at his watch. "Sorry to bug out, but I have to get to the wedding." He stood, slipped into his jacket and straightened his tie. "Glad you joined us, Sarah. Thanks again. Your information was helpful." He reached across the table and offered his hand. She shook it, unable to wipe the grin off her face. Or suppress the blush she knew was spreading across her cheeks.

  He turned to Randy. "You are not to be back in the office before Monday. If you have anything for me, use my personal cell or home email." He wrote something on a business card and handed it to Randy. "You take care." The gaze they exchanged said there was something going on, more James Bond stuff.

  "Yes, sir." They gripped hands briefly and Chief Laughlin clapped Randy's arm. He squared his shoulders and strode out of the room, leaving a vacancy three times his size. It was easy to see how he'd moved up to become Chief of Police. Although he was nowhere near Randy's height, and shorter than Kovak as well, the man radiated authority.

  The atmosphere seemed more casual now. She found the courage to voice the question that had been bugging her since they arrived. "Are you allowed to tell me more about why you're having this meeting here? It can't be because Chief Laughlin had to attend a wedding."

  Randy and Kovak glanced out the window, as if they thought Chief Laughlin might be listening.

  "He was getting some strange vibes," Kovak said. "Seemed every time we'd start to make a little headway, someone would remind him we were in over our heads. That the bigger agencies should handle the big cases and we should take care of our normal Pine Hills problems."

  "Like a man getting murdered in Pine Hills isn't a Pine Hills problem?" she said. "Who's making those calls?"

  "They come from the town council," Randy said. "The chief thinks someone has his or her own reasons for wanting us off the murder case beyond us needing support from county for the forensics. Whoever he or she is, they seem to know when we've been working on the case and they've been less than subtle about telling the chief to pull us off."

  Kovak nodded in agreement. "And, for the record, the chief does have a wedding to go to. Randy's on vacation and I'm taking comp time for the overtime I wasn't supposed to be working last week. Gone fishing, if anyone asks. But we get to work more or less uninterrupted and we're not going to run into other LEOs."

  "Leos? Like lions?" she asked.

  "Law enforcement officers," Kovak explained. He rolled his eyes in Randy's direction. "Shi—sheesh big guy, don't you tell her anything?"

  Sarah rolled her eyes, mimicking Kovak's expression. "He thinks keeping me in the dark about his job is protecting me, although it doesn't seem to be working, does it?"

  Randy shot her an exasperated look. "You're here, aren't you?"

  She found his leg under the table and rubbed it gently with her foot. "Yes. And except for your unorthodox taste in pictures, it's been fascinating."

  The men attacked their computers again. She chewed her lip, trying to make some sense of what she'd seen and heard. Everything was as tangled as the skeins of yarn in Maggie's knitting basket after Othello, her cat, got into it. "So you think if you work on the murder, you might find something that connects it to the town council? That's way out there."

  Randy slipped one hand under the table and put her leg in his lap. "It might be the smuggling. We think they're tied together."

  "Murder and smuggling in the Pine Hills town council," she mused. "That's … really out there, all right."

  "Does seem farfetched," Randy said, massaging her calf through her jeans. "How are you doing, Mister Gorilla?"

  "Got a machine at the number for Ingraham's charter company. Left a message that I'm interested in a trip. Found a Freddie Voorhees. He's a drug dealer, all right."

  "Drugs and diamonds? This is getting crazy," Sarah said.

  Kovak gave a huge grin. "Voorhees sells pharmaceuticals. Legal drug dealer. He's worked for half a dozen companies over the last ten years. Moves around a lot. No wants, no warrants, no record. I think I'll pay the guy a call on the way back. Ask a few questions." He shot Randy a knowing look. "Let you two get back to having fun."

  Randy slid her leg to the floor and gave her a sheepish grin. The one that made her want to jump into his arms. She inched her head forward, her mouth going dry. In response, his eyelids went to half mast, pure bedroom.

  "Sounds good," Randy said, not taking his eyes off her. "We should probably get out of here before they make us buy lunch."

  She licked her lips. "Are we still going down the
coast?" she asked.

  "Later," he said, his voice rough.

  "Take it easy, you two," Kovak said. "Or do I need a bucket of ice water?"

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Kovak packing his papers and laptop. "And I'm on my way," he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Randy turned off the road into a pullout overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Trying to navigate the coast highway and enjoy the view were mutually exclusive and he was ready for a break. He stepped out, sucking the briny smell of the ocean into his lungs. He leaned against the hood, watching the surf crash over the rocks, instantly transfixed by the rhythm of the waves. Sarah sidled up beside him, sliding her arm around his waist. She leaned her head against his chest.

  "You feeling all right?" she asked.

  "Fine," he said.

  "You wouldn't admit it if you weren't, would you? The way you had to eat every bit of that salsa at breakfast. You had to know it would aggravate your stomach."

  "Doesn't bother me that much," he said. "A little heartburn. No big deal." He stared out to sea. "When a cop transfers to a new division, guess what's the first thing he asks."

  She looked up at him. "I don't know. Where do you keep the bullets?"

  He tousled her hair. "No, it's 'Where do you keep the antacids?' It's an occupational hazard."

  "Will you promise me one thing?" she asked.

  The moon if she asked. "Name it."

  "See a doctor when we get back."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. But it's a waste of time."

  They stood awhile longer. The smells of the sea and of Sarah blended, relaxing him.

  "You're quiet," she said.

  "Thinking." A pelican plunged into the surf. Randy waited, watching until it bobbed to the surface. At the water's edge, shorebirds darted back and forth along the beach.

  "About?"

  "It's complicated."

  She pulled away. "Which is your way of avoiding a conversation. I thought we were going to talk more." She stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and stared out to sea.

  "I know. But I have to sort things out in my head before they come out my mouth. That habit's too ingrained to break easily, at least when it's job-related."

  She tilted her head and looked up at him, a half-smile on her lips. "Good to know you're more spontaneous with your words in other departments."

  "And sometimes I don't think you need words." He whirled her around, hoisted her onto the hood of his truck and kissed her. Toenail-deep kisses. Delving for answers to questions as old and unfathomable as the ocean behind him. As if his life depended on the answers. And while he was drowning in the kiss, he wondered if it did.

  "I love you, Sarah," he whispered when he finally needed to breathe. "I'm new to this … this balancing of job and life. Until I met you, my life was my job."

  She blinked those stone blue eyes at him. "So you understand how important my job, my shop, is to me."

  He nodded. "But you know how to shift gears from one to the other. I don't know if I can do that. There's always a part of me that's going to be on duty."

  "And I understand that. It's part of the package." Her eyes saddened. "The part I'm trying to come to grips with."

  "Sounds like we each have something to work on. I'm game. You?"

  "Kiss me like that again and I'll think about it."

  He did.

  The atmosphere in the truck lightened as they continued south.

  "Do you and Kovak work like you did this morning all the time?" Sarah asked. "He takes a lot of pot shots, doesn't he?"

  Randy laughed. "He was being kind, probably in deference to you and the chief being there."

  "And you?"

  "Oh, I was being very kind."

  She smiled. "Good. Because I'd hate to think you can't give as good as you get."

  What would she think if she was present at a crime scene and heard the way cops talked? Would she accept that they needed humor to see them through the darkness? Or would she think they were cold, uncaring brutes? "No need to worry there. I can hold my own."

  She shifted in her seat, twisting to face him. "I had fun," she said softly, as if it embarrassed her to admit it. "It was fascinating to see you all in action. And I felt like I fit in, kind of."

  "You more than fit in, Sarah. You were an asset to the team." He punched her playfully on the arm. "But don't go getting ideas about stealing my job."

  "No danger of that," she said with a laugh. "But I like sharing, even if it's only a part of what you do."

  "We'll be in Arcata in half an hour," he said. "I'm going to stop on campus. If you want to come along, you're welcome. Or I can stop at the motel first and you can relax while I do my thing."

  "I'll stay with you," she said. "The school has a great art department with an extensive ceramics program. Maybe I can poke around, ask questions. See their gallery. I might find a clue or two."

  "Slow down, woman. A couple of hours brainstorming doesn't make you a detective."

  She glared at him. "But that's my area of expertise."

  "We'll see," he said.

  Her gaze grew wary. "Now that your meeting is over, are you vacationing, or vacationing with work on the side, or just plain working?"

  "Depends where this afternoon takes me," he said. And for the first time in as long as he'd been a cop, he wished it would be a dead end. That he could shove the whole mess onto all the other departments and let them do their jobs, which would let him spend four more days with nothing but Sarah to think about.

  "All right." Her smile surprised him.

  "I didn't expect you to accept that so easily," he admitted.

  "The way I see it, if you're vacationing, we'll have a great time. If you're doing the vacation with an investigation on the side, I can be part of it. And if this ends up being four days of work for you, I can scout artists for my shop, do some sightseeing. As a matter of fact, the school has another gallery in Eureka. Old Town should be fun."

  "You're okay with being on your own?"

  She lifted her eyebrows. "Why shouldn't I be?"

  Right. What was he thinking? Her big thing was independence. She probably didn't feel like half the lights in the world went out when they were apart, the way he did.

  "We're sharing a room, right?" she said. "You're not going to work 24/7 like in Pine Hills, are you? It'll be a test. What it's like to share you with your job, but not all at once."

  His spirits lifted as his brain finally clicked into gear. Here, outside his jurisdiction, even if he was working, it wouldn't be official and definitely not around the clock. He'd be done in time for dinner at a decent hour every evening. And nights … his body responded to that thought with a dramatic shift in blood flow.

  Business first. He steered the truck along the edge of campus onto Harpst Street and found the Student and Business Services Building. After parking in a lot that said "General Parking", he headed for the structure.

  Sarah tugged on his sleeve. "Wait a second." She pointed to a cluster of buildings behind them. "The sculpture and ceramics labs are right over there. You can do your cop stuff and I can look around."

  Much as he liked having Sarah nearby, logic said he'd get more information from Rachel Michaelis in the campus police department if he kept it cop to cop, so he agreed.

  "Call when you're ready," she said. "I have a feeling there will be enough to hold my interest while you're working." She tilted her face up, an open invitation to a lingering goodbye. He brushed his lips across her forehead instead.

  "If I kiss you for real, I'm not going to be able to walk into that building," he said.

  "Suit yourself. See you later."

  He hung back, watching her walk away, her stride purposeful, her hips swinging enough to make him want to get through his meeting with Rachel Michaelis and into the vacation portion of the trip.

  * * * * *

  Sarah changed from jeans to a long green skirt and added a coordinating
jungle print faux-wrap top. She caught Randy's eye in the mirror as she adjusted the top. His eyes weren't on hers, though. A bit too low for that. "I swore I packed my green scarf," she said, turning and pushing past him to check her suitcase.

  "I like it better without," Randy said, running his fingers along the deep V of the neckline, along the tops of her breasts.

  She slapped his hand away. "You would. You're a man." She dumped the contents of the bag on the bed. "Ha! Here you are, you sneaky thing." She stuffed everything else in the dresser drawer, then went back to the mirror and wrapped the silk scarf around her neck.

  "I still like it better without," he said.

  "Image is everything," she said. "I'm representing a classy boutique. I have to look the part."

  "What part? You are the owner of a classy boutique. What's wrong with looking the way you looked all day? You look fine in jeans."

  "You're grumbling because I asked you to change into slacks. And think positive. If the person on duty at the gallery is a man, the scarf goes back in my purse."

  "Ah, there's hope, then. I don't see why we have to go to this gallery tonight. Didn't you see enough on campus? You had almost three hours. We could go tomorrow."

  "You are—"

  "Waiting until we get back here," he interrupted. He raised his hands in surrender. "You sure we don't have time?"

  "Honestly, Randy, just because the campus cops couldn't give you any useful information is no reason to get all testy. What's so wrong about giving my plan a chance?"

  "I wouldn't call what I am testy," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "And I didn't say I wasn't going to give your plan a chance. Only that it could wait until tomorrow."

  "For your information, tomorrow I have an appointment to see the head of the ceramics department. Suck it up, mister. Another hour won't kill you." Inside, she smiled. Randy hadn't seen the nightie she'd packed. The one she'd bought for his welcome home from San Francisco and still hadn't worn.

  "Ready. Let's go."

  She took his hand as they strolled the waterfront in Old Town in Eureka. "There's the gallery," she said. She picked up the pace, eager to see the ceramics. The campus exhibits had a variety of works of students and faculty, including a display of Garrigue pottery. Although there had been a few tea sets and mugs, most of the work was more sculpture than functional.