1 Through a Glass, Deadly

by Sarah Atwell

  Agent Price had not sat down. He leaned over the table, bracing himself on both arms. “Lundgren, you do not want to cross me. You’re a small-town cop, and you’re in over your head. And I’m sure there are a few people who’d like to hear about your recent adventures as a rogue cop. Not exactly coloring inside the lines, are you?” First blow to Price.

  But Matt did not flinch. “Price,” he said with icy calm, “I’ve been in law enforcement here for a long time, and I’ve made a few friends along the way. One of them heads up the Phoenix FBI office.”

  If the expression in Price’s eyes was any indication, that blow had struck home.

  Matt went on, “I asked him about you. He said some things that were not what you’d call complimentary.”

  “He was passed over for my job, and he has an axe to grind,” Price snarled. “But it’s irrelevant. This investigation is based in Chicago, and that’s where we’re going.”

  “Then before you go, perhaps you can enlighten us. What was your relationship with Jack Flannery?” Matt asked softly.

  Price didn’t answer immediately, and I could almost see gears grinding in his head. Which answer would he give? Or, perhaps, which answer would do him the least harm? Maybe I did want to be here: I wanted to see what hole card Matt was holding, because I knew he had to have something. Matt was not a gambler.

  “He was a confidential informant,” Price said at last. “He was assisting us in our inquiries into Chicago organized crime.”

  “And how does it happen that you were present when your boy Jack met with Frank here to pay him for the shipment of diamonds?”

  “I told you—he was an informant,” Price said flatly. “Coincidence.”

  Matt looked at Frank, who didn’t look rattled in the least. “Sorry, mate, but I heard you talking with Jack. And you weren’t talking about any court trials.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Outside the door. For an FBI agent you’re pretty sloppy about watching your back. And I didn’t trust you—just on principle, see. I like to know who I’m dealing with. And I didn’t know Jack very well, much less his pals. So I kind of eavesdropped, just a bit.”

  Price was turning interesting colors as I watched. Red, then pale. Maybe green was next? But he was not about to go down without a fight.

  “We had arranged to meet earlier, and you just happened to be there. What we talked about had nothing to do with your business.”

  Frank looked at him coolly, the humor gone from his face. “And was that why I heard you say ‘Tucson’?” he said quietly.

  Ooh, this was getting to be fun. Point to Frank. Interesting that I believed Frank, rather than an FBI agent. But I’d seen Frank in action, and I had no reason to trust Price.

  And then my mind started working again. “You told Jack where to find Allison,” I said slowly.

  Matt looked at me with approval. “Good for you.” He turned back to the unfortunate Agent Price. “Price, sit down.” It was an order, and this time Price took it.

  “Let me tell you how I think this went down,” Matt continued. “You’ve been running Jack for a while, right? My friend said you’d been in Chicago about five years, and that would have given you plenty of time to get to know who’s who there. Say you cross paths with Jack maybe three, four years ago. Now Jack is definitely a guy in the middle. He’s not smart enough to be the brains of an operation, at least not when you first met him, but he’s a cut above the street thugs—enforcers like our guys Sean and Kevin. How’m I doing?”

  “Go on,” Price said. “It’s your story.”

  “So you and Jack get into bed together. You made things a little easier for him, now and then, and he fed you information that you could use to make yourself look good at work. But now things get a little murky. Our Jack came up with an idea, all by himself. He sees how the wind is blowing, he sees that the Mob hierarchy is changing pretty fast, and crime in the modern world has less to do with physical intimidation and more to do with the business of crime. And he sees an opportunity to carve himself out a nice little niche—in money laundering. Frank, you want to chip in here?”

  Frank grinned. “I don’t know anything about money laundering. I’m just a businessman, who happens to have a couple of diamond mines in Australia. Great country, Australia—lots of opportunities. So let’s say—purely hypothetically, mind you—that somebody approaches me and says, I’ve got some money and I want to buy some diamonds. And as a good businessman, of course I say yes. So we dicker. And we’re getting close to a deal when he says something like, I wonder if you could do me a favor? If you’d like to shave a bit off the asking price, I’d make it worth your while.”

  Now, I’m not stupid. I have a college degree, and as a stockbroker years ago, I had worked with numbers—and money. I just wanted to make sure I had this right. “So, Frank—hypothetically—you give Jack a receipt for an artificially low price, and he turns around and sells the stones at fair market value, with all the documentation he needs. After all, he came by the diamonds legally. But it looks like his profits are a bit better than they might be, right? And he gives you a slice of those profits, just as a thank-you for your, uh, creative billing practices, but he still comes out ahead, with a pile of nice clean money. And as far as anybody can tell, it’s all on the up-and-up?”

  “Bang on, Em. Of course, none of this really happened. That’s just how it might have happened.”

  The next piece fell into place, and I turned to Agent Price. “Well, say a respected member of a local law enforcement agency gets curious about some rather successful transactions, and he has a little chat with his favorite snitch. And maybe”—I was really warming to my theme here—“maybe he’s had a hard year, or his balloon payment is due, his kid needs braces, or his car blew a clutch, and he needs a little something extra. So he says to Jack, sitting on his pile of honest money, ‘You know, I’ll look the other way, but I’ll need a small fee, otherwise I might get a crick in my neck.’ And so a mutually satisfying partnership is born, and everybody’s happy—at least until Uncle Frank comes to town looking for his niece.”

  Matt clapped, once, twice. “Excellent. Agent Price, your pals at the FBI have a few questions about some interesting deposits to your bank account. Oh, you were very discreet, and not too greedy, but over time it adds up.”

  Yes, Agent Price was distinctly green now.

  “So here’s what I think happened next,” Matt resumed. “Frank comes to town unexpectedly and wants Jack to produce Allison. Jack panics, sees his nice business arrangement falling apart. But Jack had no idea where Allison was—sorry, Allison, but I’m not sure he was really looking for you—so he asked you to use your FBI resources to track her down. Jack could never have found her, or not that fast. But you found her, and you told Jack where to look. He hops a plane and arrives in Tucson, and he gets pretty close to Allison, except then Em gets in the way. So where do the thugs come in? You had a nice thing going with Jack, and he could probably have managed Allison, made sure she said what he wanted, so Uncle Frank would take himself home none the wiser, right? Why kill the goose who was laying all those golden eggs?”

  Agent Price didn’t answer immediately, no doubt running the video of his disastrous crash and burn in his head. Finally, he said slowly, “That wasn’t my fault. Jack got in over his head. He’d have been fine if he’d stuck to small deals, but he got ambitious. He was trying to make his bosses take notice—make a play for a bigger role in the organization. Well, he did attract attention, but for the wrong reasons. He made the buy with organization money, but he helped himself to a bit more than his bosses expected. Which would have been fine once the transaction was completed, but then this whole Allison thing came up and he left town fast to find her. And he took the diamonds with him. His bosses thought that looked suspicious.”

  I interrupted. “Why would he do that? I mean, they were worth a pretty hefty sum. Why didn’t he just put them someplace safe, like a bank?” I was honestly curio
us.

  “He didn’t have time. The banks were closed by the time we had this little conversation, and he didn’t trust a lot of people—and that included his current girlfriend. So he figured they were safest with him. Besides, he thought he’d be back in Chicago with Allison in tow in a day or two. Unfortunately, his bosses were a little concerned because they were out a lot of money and they didn’t have the diamonds, so they sent a couple of guys to track down Jack.”

  I flashed a look at Matt, but he seemed content to let me carry the ball for now. “All right, so they sent the thugs after Jack. How did they know where he was going? You?”

  Agent Price shrugged. “Jack didn’t make any effort to cover his trail—he bought a plane ticket in his own name, with his own credit card. And he used his credit card for a motel and for a rental car. Even the Chicago crowd knows how to find records like that. They didn’t need my help. And they didn’t ask for it, or I might have been able to warn Jack.”

  I noticed he had never answered my question, and wondered just how dirty Agent Price was. But that was not my problem. “Jack gets to Tucson, finds a motel for the night, then starts hunting for Allison, right? And when he catches sight of her, she’s with me, so he hangs back and follows us to the studio, waiting to get her alone. But then I drive Allison home, and I guess he didn’t move fast enough to follow us to her place, so he settles in to wait for me. And that’s when Sean and Kevin catch up with him?”

  Agent Price stared at the wall but said nothing. Did it matter? I could figure out the rest. Jack had heard them coming and had hidden the diamonds quickly—and luckily had found the perfect hiding place in my frit.

  “And Sean lost his temper and killed him. Kevin said it was an accident—they were just trying to persuade Jack—and Sean got a little too rough, or too close to the furnace.”

  Matt nodded his agreement, then turned back to Price. “It must have been a shock when Jack’s death was reported. I wondered why you showed up so fast. What was it you were so worried about? Covering up Jack’s activities? Or maybe you thought you could snag the diamonds, since nobody seemed to know where they were. Tell me, why did the boys kill the deliveryman?”

  “Why do you think I know?” Price snarled. “I didn’t even know they were in town until I found out Jack was dead, and I certainly had no control over them. Look, I didn’t want Jack dead—and neither did they, probably. But when things got out of hand, when Jack died, they started improvising. They’d been sent for the diamonds, so they hung around looking for them. Maybe the guy with the truck saw too much, or they thought he did, and they overreacted. I don’t know. All I know is that they were out of their element here in Tucson, and things . . . escalated.”

  I thought about Tim, who had never done anything to hurt anyone, and who had died in a pool of blood at my back door simply because he had seen too much, and he didn’t even know it. And I hoped that Agent Price would fry in hell for starting this whole mess.

  A leaden silence fell. We were all—with the possible exception of Agent Price—exhausted, numb, and overwhelmed by the events of the past few days. I had no idea what the legal implications of what we had heard, what we now knew, would be. But, thank heavens, it wasn’t up to me—that was Matt’s call. I was content to hand the whole mess over to him and let him cope. True to form, he roused himself first.

  “Agent Price, as you say, I’m just a lowly local police chief. But this is my jurisdiction. I don’t know that I have any basis for arresting you, although you can be sure that I’ll be telling the FBI what we know or suspect about your activities.”

  But Agent Price wasn’t done yet. “And I’ll tell your superiors about your little stunt in the desert. Involving civilians, not to mention Kavanagh here, and putting them at risk.”

  Matt’s gaze never left Price’s face. “You do what you think you have to, Price. But I have two men in my custody. They will remain in my custody, and they will be charged with the crimes they have committed within my jurisdiction.”

  Agent Price gave him a long look, then stood up abruptly. “I’m done here.” And before anyone could move, he stalked out, leaving the rest of us sitting like lumps, stunned.

  “Should you go after him?” I finally asked Matt.

  Matt stretched in his chair, the tension leaving his body. “Don’t think so. The paperwork would be a bitch.”

  “But will you be in trouble if he does what he said?”

  Matt smiled down at the table. “I doubt it. Maybe I don’t play at his level, but I’ve got friends here. And come what may, I’ll make sure the FBI knows what happened. Not that it may make any difference—I’d guess the wiseguys in Chicago aren’t going to be too happy with him.”

  I shivered. Even though I knew that there were real live Mob hit men in the world—and I’d even met a couple of them—I didn’t want to think about what Agent Price might be walking into when he went home. Then another thought crept unbidden into my foggy consciousness. “What about the diamonds? You’ve still got ’em, right?”

  Matt looked at me and grinned. “I do. As far as we know, Jack Flannery acquired them legitimately—he even has the bill of sale to prove it. Right, Frank?”

  “That he does, mate.”

  “Which means that legally they are his property. And since he’s dead, that would leave his next of kin—which I’m guessing would be you, Allison.”

  Allison roused herself at the sound of her name. “What? No! I don’t want them. And what about the men in Chicago whose money paid for them?”

  Matt smiled gently at her. “Don’t worry—I have a feeling the diamonds’ll be tied up as evidence for a long time, and most likely they’d be forfeit in the end. But it might be a good idea if you officially turned them over to the authorities. Heck, there might be a finders’ fee in it for you.”

  Allison shook her head. “I want no part of them. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  Matt stood up and addressed us all. “I guess I’d better see to processing Sean and Kevin.”

  “Matt,” I interrupted, “will you go easy on Kevin? I don’t think he’s a bad kid, and he did help us in the end, and we promised we’d help him. Sean’s the real bad guy.”

  “Em, you always were a soft touch. But I agree with you, and I’ll see what I can do. Go home, all of you, and get some sleep. Frank, will you be staying around until this is settled?”

  “That I will. I want to get to know my niece, since I’ve come all this way. And I’m delighted to be of service to local law enforcement. Never know when you might need a favor, down the road.”

  “We should celebrate.” The words came out of my mouth, with no connection to my brain. “How about Elena’s tonight, say eight? That’ll give us time to recover, right?” I looked at the motley crew around the table. They looked dazed, confused, befuddled—just the way I felt. But I was the only one with a home to go to. Since no one raised an objection, I stood up decisively. “Right. It’s a plan. Let’s go!”

  We went.

  Chapter 25

  lip wrap: a thin contrasting stripe (circle) of color added to the lip of a glass piece. It is typically one of the very last steps when working on a piece, as the lip wrap is added after the piece is transferred to the punty (East Falls Glassworks, Glassblowing Glossary)

  We got home somehow.

  Frank peeled off to his hotel room, with promises to return for dinner, and I gave him detailed instructions on how to find Elena’s. By now I was convinced that he could find anything, anywhere, without any help, but I didn’t want to give him any excuses for not showing up. I was surprised to find that I had grown rather fond of him over the past few days. I would miss him when he went home.

  Back at the studio, I shooed Cam and Allison up the stairs and made a duty stop in the shop to update Nessa. Thank God she was her usual serene self.

  “Nessa, what would I do without you? Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I haven’t slept in days and I really need to crash. Can you cover?�
�

  “Of course, dear. I’ve been working with you for years—I know you must have a good reason.”

  “Bless you! And I promise I’ll fill you in on all the juicy details, only at the moment I can’t seem to remember my own name. Can you join us for dinner tonight? We’re going to Elena’s.”

  “And who is ‘us’?”

  “Me, Cam, Allison . . . and Matt. And Allison’s uncle, Frank. You’ve met him—he’s the man who came in looking for her.” Which now seemed like years ago.

  “I’d be delighted. It sounds too good to miss.” Nessa twinkled.

  I wondered if she was being sarcastic, but I was too tired to care. “Eight o’clock, then. If we manage to wake up by then. Thanks, Nessa!”

  I stumbled up the stairs. Cam had taken the dogs out for their walk while I was talking to Nessa, bless him, and when they returned, they came bounding up to greet me. Thank goodness they didn’t require any complicated explanations—just some affection, which I could handle. Then they followed me down the hall to my bedroom, where I flopped onto my bed and promptly lost consciousness.

  My internal alarm allowed me six hours of uninterrupted oblivion. Sometime around seven I drifted to consciousness. The dogs were still snuggled next to me, and I couldn’t hear any stirrings from down the hall. I stretched luxuriously.

  The last week had been chaotic, beyond anything I had ever known. I was an artist and a businesswoman, and whether through luck or good planning, my world had never intersected with the world of guns and violence. I hoped it never would again. I just wanted to get back to doing what I loved to do: making glass. Selling glass. Teaching glass. Although I thought it might be good to include a little more human contact. I wondered idly if Allison was going to stick around, after all that had happened. I’d be happy to give her a job in the shop, and also let her find out if she had any talent for glasswork. She had the bug, and I could give her the skills. Nessa was getting on in years, and Allison could take some of the burden off her. And Cam could use a life outside of his computer models.