by Ann Roberts
“Say it baby!” Yoli commanded.
“You’re the best! You’re all I need!” she screamed.
For a split second Molly thought she heard a door click, but she was too close to ecstasy to stop—or care.
Chapter Twelve
Ari darted into the Quik Trip for bottled water. The temperature was creeping toward the predicted one hundred and twelve-degree mark for the day, and she needed to restock the cooler she kept in the 4Runner. When business was hectic she lived in her vehicle, and hydration was a must.
She’d spent her entire Thursday morning showing Molly’s brother Brian and his fiancée Lynn several different properties based on their answers to her client questionnaire. She’d learned over the years that there was no substitute for standing in a house and watching clients rave or criticize the choices of the homeowner. It was the best way for her to recognize which properties would fit their needs.
As an architect Lynn knew more than most people about design. In addition to a set of requirements, they preferred a house by legendary Phoenix architect Ralph Haver, but they were on a budget so it would need to be a fixer-upper. That would be a rare find. She imagined there would be many outings traipsing through various neighborhoods in Central Phoenix.
Jane called just as she settled back into her automotive sauna. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself. I thought I should call and make sure you’re still alive. I haven’t seen or heard from you in three days except for a few texts.”
“I’ve been busy,” she lied to her best friend. “I’m working with two different sets of clients now, including Brian and Lynn, and you know Lynn is super picky.”
“Guess what?” Jane gushed. “Never mind, you’ll never guess. They’ve decided the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ needs another run, so I’ll be returning as lust on Third Friday. I might even ride the trolley. It was kinda fun.”
“That’s great. Your first performance certainly invigorated the audience.” Ari remembered the dozen men watching Jane gyrate on the small pedestal that was her stage.
“Speaking of Molly—”
“We weren’t speaking of Molly,” she said tersely. “And I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Okay,” Jane said slowly. “I thought the two of you were good? Aren’t you helping her with the investigation?”
She leaned back and chugged half a bottle of water. “I’m not helping her anymore. I gave her what I had and got her started, so now it’s up to her. She’s the PI, not me. I’m busy with clients.”
“Is she aware that you’re no longer helping her?”
“I don’t know,” she said coolly. “Probably.”
“I see. Then I don’t understand the message she sent me asking why you weren’t returning her calls or texts. What’s going on, honey?”
Unable to stand the boiling temperatures for another second, she started the SUV and let the AC cool her down. When she didn’t vacate the parking spot, someone honked behind her, and she quickly pulled out, deciding just to drive.
“Honey, tell me,” she pleaded. “What happened?”
She couldn’t keep secrets from her. They’d known each other for too long and no one knew her moods as well. “I’m having to accept the fact that Molly and I will never be anything but friends. I thought there might be something more but there’s not. Maybe it’s a good thing the Sunday movies are ending.”
“The Sunday movies are ending? Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, well I’m already over it.”
“So, since I thought you were just friends with Molly and you were helping the investigation as a friend, what happened that changed everything?”
“I caught her and Yoli screwing on our conference room floor Monday night when I had to go back and pick up a file I’d forgotten.”
Jane chuckled and immediately said, “Sorry. I just have a lot of trouble picturing them connecting sexually.”
“Well, all parts of them were definitely connected. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to have another meeting in there without getting sick to my stomach.” Ari realized she was heading west and suddenly decided where she needed to go. When she hit I-17, she headed north. “So what do you think?”
“What did Molly say when she saw you standing there?”
“Oh, she didn’t see me. The table legs were in the way and she was too busy being pleasured by Yoli, but Yoli saw me.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, I stopped at the door when I heard noises, and Yoli’s head was right in my line of sight. I was so surprised I just stood there like an idiot. She got this enormous grin on her face, and she started moaning louder and shouting encouragement. Then just before she made Molly come, she blew me a kiss.”
“What?”
She glanced at the speedometer and realized she was going eighty-five. She let her foot up and took a deep breath. “You heard me. Please don’t make me say it again. I’m so stupid. I ran out of there without the file and I haven’t spoken to Molly since. It’s true that exes can’t be friends and I need to let it go.”
“I completely disagree and you know I’m friends with many of my exes.”
“Yeah, except for the one who stalked you.”
“Now, that was unusual,” she clarified. “We’re all friends because we expect nothing else from the relationship. You don’t want to be friends, and that’s why their little tryst bothers you so much.”
She knew Jane was right, although she wouldn’t share with her the long kisses or the phone sex she and Molly had enjoyed. She also knew she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I need to concentrate on my driving now. I’ll call you later.”
“Promise me you really will call me later, and promise me you’ll call Molly or you’ll answer her texts. Just remember Ms. Wonders, honey. This is really about her.”
She scowled but Jane disconnected before she could comment. She hated it when Jane was right, which was more often than she wanted to admit. She realized she had no reason to be angry with Molly. They had made no commitments to each other and Molly had made it clear she was in a relationship with Yoli.
No commitments, no denials.
She was furious with Yoli for gloating. She’d never liked her very much, and she couldn’t see how her brooding, judgmental personality was a positive in Molly’s life. If anything she seemed to manipulate and control everything and everyone around her. She could be cold and calculating, as evidenced by her behavior on the conference room floor when she saw Ari was watching. Is it possible she’s capable of murder? She couldn’t think of a connection Yoli would have to LGA, and realized she was being ridiculous.
She headed west toward Glendale, a suburb of Phoenix and the place where she’d grown up. The city had revitalized the downtown area, building a new city hall around Murphy Park and refurbishing all the old stores that were the original hub during the fifties and sixties. Most were now hip restaurants or collectible stores, and visiting downtown Glendale was a fun way to spend an afternoon.
Her family had lived just north of the downtown in a bungalow that was now designated as historic and had been turned into a vintage clothing store. In fact, her entire neighborhood had been rezoned to allow small businesses to capitalize on the downtown rejuvenation. Many of the streets only catered to pedestrian traffic, and if she wanted to walk through her childhood home, something she’d done a few years ago with Jane, she’d have to park in the big garage next to city hall and hoof it.
That certainly wasn’t going to happen when the temperature was a hundred and twelve, and seeing her family home wasn’t the purpose of the drive anyway. She pulled into a parking lot next to a small boarded-up building.
It had been many things during its life, most recently a check-cashing place that didn’t make it. Originally it had been a 7-11, and the protruding square in the center of the storefront was a giveaway, the place where the green, red, and orange trademark seven had glowed after dark. It had been to this 7-11 where Ari’s brother R
ichie had ridden his bicycle on an August evening twenty-four years before to buy some baseball cards, and it was the place he was killed.
Her gaze lingered on the tall rectangular plywood sheet covering the front opening of the building. She’d gone with Richie to the store more than once that summer. He wanted baseball cards and she wanted a Slurpee. They’d had an argument the day before because he wanted to go to that 7-11, though there was another store closer to their house in the opposite direction. He claimed this store was better because he’d had more luck acquiring rare cards.
“All I ever get from that other one are dupes,” he’d said, meaning duplicates.
She remembered that night. He’d received his allowance and begged her again to go with him. She’d refused. It was after nine p.m., but it was summer, and their parents, especially Lucia, tended to be far more permissive when homework wasn’t involved.
The clerk would later say that Richie surprised the masked gunman who entered the store after Richie, who was probably so completely engrossed in selecting packs of baseball cards that he didn’t know what was happening at the front until he came around the corner of the candy aisle. The gunman whirled in his direction and fired without looking. Then he’d run out, having just collected the funds from the cash register. By the time an ambulance arrived, Richie was dead, the cards and his allowance still in his hand.
Their dad Jack, who was a sergeant at the time, had been called immediately and saw his son lying in his own blood on the convenience store floor. That moment forever changed him, and Richie’s death would be the undoing of their family in many ways.
The killer was never caught, a fact that ate at Jack, particularly around the anniversary of Richie’s death. Tomorrow. She’d been twelve when he died, and for many years she thought her father would have rather she perished than his only son. It had only been in the last two years she’d come to believe that wasn’t true, and her feelings for Jack had changed significantly.
She had to decide if her feelings about Grand Avenue could morph from misery and darkness to hope and opportunity. I’m probably being ridiculous. This is a road, and a long one at that. She knew she needed to share her feelings with Lorraine if they were going to move the agency to Grand Avenue or if she was seriously going to pursue the purchase of Chynna Grove’s property. They’d gone back to the Stapley building the day before, and Ari could see its potential. From a business perspective it was a great deal. She told Lorraine she’d think about it, but she knew Lorraine was getting impatient.
Her phone rang suddenly and she jumped. Molly. She put her finger over the silence button, deciding whether to let it go to voice mail or not. This is about Ms. Wonders.
She answered cheerily, “Hi. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I’ve been really busy.”
“Oh, good,” Molly said slowly. “I thought you were mad at me or something. Did you listen to my last message?”
She hadn’t listened to any of the messages. “Yeah,” she lied, “but they ran together in my mind, so why don’t you just give me the update?”
“Um, okay. I’d called you this morning to tell you that Andre is finally able to have lunch with us today.”
“Oh, I thought that was Tuesday.”
“He canceled. That was the first message I left you.” She gave a nervous laugh and added, “You really are busy. Anyway, are you free for lunch today?”
She hesitated for a second and then said, “Sure. When and where?”
“In an hour at Angel’s Trumpet House.”
She closed her eyes and thought of Ms. Wonders standing in front of the Taj Mahal. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Good,” she said, the relief in her voice evident. “I really need to talk to you. I feel like I’m getting stonewalled. Sebastian King’s canceled on me twice and hardly any of the merchants on RoRo will talk to me. Doors just don’t open as quickly when you don’t have a badge to flash, and Andre’s been slammed with his cases so the help he’s promised me has been slow to come. I’ve spent my time spinning my wheels and setting up the agency.”
“You’ve lost your inside track.”
“It seems so.” She chuckled. “Maybe I need some pointers from you. How do you do it? Tell me your sleuthing secrets, Ari Adams.”
Her tone sounded slightly seductive and she pictured her standing behind her and whispering in her ear. She looked at her arm and saw goose bumps. Some things never change.
“I don’t really have any secrets. I just talk to people,” she mumbled.
“You make it sound easy, but it’s not easy for me. I’m not like you. I’m not a salesman. I made people talk to me.”
“You’ll get better at it. Maybe Yoli can help?”
She laughed and said, “Seriously?” Then she quickly added, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s forgotten.”
“Thanks, and please don’t say anything to Lorraine about my frustration.”
“Don’t worry. This conversation is just between us.”
“I’m thinking about you today. I remember what tomorrow is, and if it’s not cool to meet for lunch…”
She left the idea dangling, and Ari thought about jumping at the excuse, but she kept seeing Ms. Wonders in front of the Taj Mahal. “I’m fine with lunch and it’s nice of you to remember Richie. Actually I’m sitting in the parking lot of the old 7-11 right now. I know that probably sounds really weird.”
“No, no, it doesn’t,” she said. “Just…are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Great, and I’m not kidding about wanting to know all of your secrets.”
Her breathy voice made Ari tingle all over. She hung up and let her head hit the steering wheel.
Chapter Thirteen
Ari knew Angel’s Trumpet Ale House would be packed with the downtown lunch crowd, so she arrived ten minutes early to secure a table. Angel’s had been a mortgage brokerage, but the owner, who many believed was in the midst of a midlife crisis, closed his office and converted the place into his dream—a pub. Its location proved ideal as the lawyers, investment bankers, accountants and other inhabitants of the skyscrapers along Van Buren only had to traverse a few blocks in their expensive suits and heels for a lunchtime pizza or burger.
Technically Angel’s sat in the Evans Churchill Neighborhood, not Roosevelt, but patrons and residents of RoRo quickly adopted it once they learned Angel’s carried thirty-one beers on tap and boasted an outstanding mister system on its dog patio. Very few Phoenix patios were habitable during August, but Angel’s defied the trend. It was on the patio where she found Molly sipping a Pellegrino, a stack of manila folders and a yellow legal pad next to her.
“I got here early too. Guess we had the same idea.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I love this place but it’s always crowded. Yoli and I make it a point to arrive before the lunch or dinner rush.”
“Oh, do you and Yoli come here often?”
“Uh, sometimes. It’s not our hangout, but if we’re in the area, it’s the first place we think of, especially if we want flatbread.” She shook her head and leaned forward. “Hey, I don’t want to chitchat. Are you okay? You sounded a little off earlier when we were on the phone, and I was surprised you just stopped talking to me on Tuesday. Am I missing something?”
She couldn’t tell her the truth about what she’d seen in the conference room. Luckily, a waitress came by and launched into a spiel about the beer of the month. When she left with her iced tea order, Ari pointed to the stack of folders and asked, “What’s all that?”
Molly’s expression conveyed confusion. Ari was deliberately changing the subject and for a moment she watched her grapple with whether to allow it. When she opened a folder Ari sighed quietly.
“Since I’m having trouble getting people to talk with me, I started pulling information, but there’s only so much you can get from public records,” she said glumly. “These are incorporation documents for K
ing LLC.”
“Is that Sebastian King’s company?”
“Well, one of them. He has several on file with the Corporation Commission, but judging from the date of incorporation of King LLC, I would guess this company was formed specifically for the Roosevelt Apartments.”
She flipped through her pages of notes on the yellow legal pad, and Ari pictured her surfing the Internet for hours, something she’d never had to do as a cop. She sent a request to an agency and information magically appeared before her.
“There’s mention of Hamada Enterprises and something called TRIO Group. I’m guessing they’re all partners.”
She scanned the documents while Molly watched. When an image of Yoli’s grinning face flashed in her mind, she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. “Hamada Enterprises appears to be a shareholder in the company, but the statutory agent and only member of the board of directors listed is Sebastian King.”
“What does the statutory agent do?”
“He or she is the point person for the corporation. If it gets sued, the statutory agent is the one who is served.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. So I noticed that Hamada Enterprises holds the majority of the shares, fifty-two percent, TRIO Group has thirty-eight percent, but Sebastian King only has ten percent.” She looked up quizzically. “Don’t you think he’d want more control seeing as he’s the one listed as the board?”
Ari shrugged. “Maybe not. I’ll admit it’s a little unusual, but at the time ten percent may have been all he could afford. What else do you know about Hamada or TRIO?”
She grabbed a thick file and set it between them. “Hamada is an Egyptian company with several holdings in the States but it’s never reached into Arizona until this venture. All of them seem legit. No red flags.”
