Adam glanced at my hand, then shied away from me. “A little privacy here, please. Unless—”
“No. I’m okay and don’t really need to hang on to you. Just needed a dose of reality and God knows you have that one down.”
“Yeah. Cops are like that. You didn’t—”
“Trespass into your private life. No, you know I wouldn’t do that. Not without permission. I’ve learned to ignore stuff, push the images away and let them go.”
“Um-hmm. Let’s get this done.”
“How long since anyone has worked here?”
Adam flipped open his notebook. “About a month, give or take.”
“Okay. I’m going to wander around, see if I pick up anything about the bomb.”
“Dogs didn’t find anything.”
I crossed my arms, cocked my head at him. “Are you comparing my fingers with a dog’s nose?”
He clamped his lips together but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Nope. Totally different senses, smell and touch.”
“Right, then. I’m just going to see what I can sniff out.”
I shoved my hands into my back pockets, put some purpose in my step, and shrugged off the growing panic about hazy images. “Today, I want to be scientific about this.”
“Scientific?” He followed me to the back of the building.
“Well, at least organized. Let’s start in the back and work our way to the front.”
Sawdust, nails and a bunch of unidentifiable things littered the floor so I kept my eyes down. A nail through the foot? Not appealing. We wove our way in and out of partly finished walls until we reached the rear of the building. I held my hand about an inch away from the silver insulating material that would one day be covered with dry wall.
Adam didn’t say anything, but his mouth was set to grim. I pulled my hand back, rubbed my palms together, shook my hands, made fists, shook them again.
The grim mouth thing had gotten to me.
“You gonna touch something, or not?” He obviously needed another cup of coffee. And maybe some dry clothes would help to get rid of his cranky mood.
I touched the wood and then the insulation. The images were foggy, but I could still see. Damn logic getting in the way of my intuition again. “Is Justin North young, mid-thirties maybe, with styled brown hair, expensive suits, Italian shoes and a Rolex watch?”
Adam nodded. “That’s him.”
“He leaned against this wall while he was having a conversation with a woman in a hard hat. She looks about as pissed as a woman can be. Either he’s an arrogant son of a bitch and really pushed her last button, or she’s having the worst PMS since mama dinosaurs ruled the earth.
“What’s she saying?”
“Don’t know. Don’t get words.”
“So, you know she’s angry…how?”
“Her eyes are practically shooting sparks, her mouth is moving at top speed, and her hands are fisted on her hips. She’s leaning toward North, crowding him. That’s probably why he’s backed against this wall, to get away from her, because he doesn’t look like the type to touch anything that might get his suit dirty.”
“Ah. Angry. What’s she look like?”
I shrugged, my wet shirt clammy against my skin. “Taller than average, five-nine, maybe. I’d guess she’s close to thirty, long, dark brown hair that’s tied back under her hardhat, brown eyes. She has some heft to her, not heavy, more like big-boned but still feminine.”
“Danielle Chambers. She’s one of a team of engineers that created the original design, and she has a solid reputation. It fits that she’d be angry with North since we believe he’s the one responsible for cutting corners. Chambers prides herself on excellence in materials and craftsmanship. You gotta wonder why she’s working with North.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Adam always asks. “You—”
“Difficult woman to find,” he said through clenched teeth. “Working on it.”
As we headed for the car, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye and grabbed Adam’s sleeve. “Someone’s poking around behind that building.”
SIX
The flash of movement caught my eye for the second time and I pointed. “Right over there. See the shadow between those shrubs?”
Adam tucked his thumbs under his belt, and shot me a grin. “Let’s wander over and you can shake his hand, poor unsuspecting schmuck.”
I elbowed him in the ribs, hard.
As we got closer, recognition dawned. “Hey, I know him. He’s the guy who replaced my kitchen window. Can’t remember his name, Clyde something. I should know this ’cause it hasn’t been that long since I wrote him a check.”
My curiosity was swinging into full gear as we approached. “Clyde Winston,” I whispered to Adam, pasting a big smile on my face and greeting Clyde with my hand outstretched. “Mr. Winston, hello. Do you remember me, Everly Gray? You replaced my kitchen window a while back.”
His hand met mine and the touch left something to be desired. Not that there was anything wrong with Clyde’s hands, they were perfectly fine, warm, rough, hard-working hands. It’s just that the only thing I picked up was emotion—discomfort and agitation. There weren’t any images whatsoever.
“I remember you, Ms. Gray. I may be gettin’ old, but a pretty woman is always worth remembering. Don’t you think so, young man?” he asked Adam, and added an adorable wink.
It always made me smile when people pegged Adam and me as a couple since we were as much brother and sister as he and Annie.
“Mr. Winston, this is Detective Stone, and we’re here checking into some construction issues that have been brought to his attention.
Clyde looked old enough to be retired, but the crotchety expression, potbelly and weathered skin made it hard to tell his exact age. He had a few wisps of almost-white hair floating around his ears, and clear blue eyes that looked right through you.
“You know, Miz Gray, I was goin’ to give you a call, I was. Isn’t your neighbor—pretty young thing. Doesn’t look old enough to be out of the school room, that one. I don’t know her name, but isn’t she a private investigator?”
“Yes. Annie Stone and she’s the best.” I did a palms up toward Adam. “Detective Stone is her brother.”
Clyde wagged his head back and forth. “Well then, I’ll just be a ’telling you about what I saw. Didn’t want to go to the police, but since you’re here and all. Saw the piece about Jacobson being killed in the paper this mornin’ and the thing is…”
His voice trailed off to a bare whisper, and uncertainty clouded his gaze.
I touched his arm, his skin warm and damp under my fingertips. Scattered images raced across my mind, but nothing I could catalog. “It’s okay, Clyde. Adam can help with whatever it is.”
Clyde cleared his throat, a rough sound that mingled with his sigh. “C.J. Builders hired me on to replace a broken window in Mr. Jacobson’s office. Big window. It took me a while to get everythin’ in place. While I was working, he took calls, discussed personal business, he did. Not that I’d be a listenin’, but in this case…he was talkin’ to Justin North. Thing is, I washed the windows in North’s office a few days back. Lotsa glass in that office. Took some time to do the job. North was a talkin’ to Jacobson then too. Called him by name.”
Clyde’s fingers tapped a steady, rhythmic tattoo on his thighs. I touched the hand closest to me to still the nervous gesture. I wasn’t looking for information this time, didn’t think about it. Just touched. I meant it to be a comfort, but got a clear image of him washing windows in a large office constructed mostly from glass. I pulled my hand back and caught the question in Adam’s expression. Shook my head. The image didn’t add anything to what Adam already knew since he’d visited both construction companies.
“I know I shouldn’t have been a listenin’,” he said, glancing between Adam and me. “But I couldn’t help hearing him say how he’d s
ent a hundred thousand over to the bank. Thought that ought to be enough to cover it. I’ve just been sittin’ on this all morning, wondering if I should tell someone about it.”
Adam nodded, jotting down some notes. “Talking to me was a good decision, Mr. Winston. Is there more?”
“Yes, sir, there is. The conversation I overheard in Jacobson’s office was heated. Words were said that I wouldn’t repeat in front of a lady like you, Miz Gray. No ma’am. It sounded threatening to me, it did. Then when I made the connection with what North was a ’sayin, my hair just stood up on end.”
He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sounds like I’m a crazy old coot, and I surely didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of the police. No sir.”
Adam took Clyde aside to get a more detailed account of the scene between Jacobson and North, then closed his notebook and gave Clyde a reassuring smile. “There’ve been more than the usual number of industrial incidents lately, and it’s possible this is related to those as well as Jacobson’s murder.”
Clyde hung his head. “I don’t want to be brought in to the police station. Those places, they make me real uncomfortable.”
Adam nodded. “Some days, I feel that way myself. I can’t guarantee you won’t have to come in, but I’ll do my best to keep you anonymous.”
The drive home was uneventful except for Adam huffing out a few comments about not being able to locate Danielle Chambers. I would have suggested he talk with Pierce about it, because no one can hide in the wind as well as Pierce, but thought better of it. Adam knew his job and didn’t need any help from me.
We turned into my driveway, and Adam slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting Mitch’s bike. My heart flip-flopped. Mitch. Here. It made the day perfect. He levered himself off my front porch and strolled toward the Crown Vic, opening the door for me.
His eyes on me, he greeted Adam. “Hey, Stone.”
“Hunt,” Adam said as he backed out of the driveway.
Before I got a single word out, Mitch caught me in a hug, the fresh scent of his cologne teasing my nose.
I nuzzled his neck. “Ummm. You smell delicious.”
“Good enough that you’ll have lunch with me?”
His kiss destroyed any possibility of rational thought, much less my ability to consider food, and articulate an appropriate response to his question.
Totally lost in the kiss, I let out a squeal when a gust of wind blew a shower of water against us. Apparently, the morning rain had been clinging to the broad surface of the magnolia leaves on the tree in my front yard. The impromptu bath sent me into a giggle fit—probably a good thing, considering I’m not all that into public displays of affection.
The laughter in Mitch’s eyes died when he noticed my attention had strayed. “I don’t like that look. You have something planned, don’t you?”
I fluttered my eyelashes. It had never worked before, but what the heck. “I thought you might like to check out North’s office with me. Before we have lunch, unless you don’t have time.”
He tilted his head, gave me the once over. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to go with you? You’re not going to sneak off alone?”
I nodded. Knew better than to open my mouth.
“No getting into trouble. I promise. But we need a cover story. Maybe a modestly affluent, newly engaged couple looking to build their first home.”
“Want to run that by me again?”
“It’ll be fine. What’re the chances of finding another dead body? Statistically speaking—”
He held up a hand. “No. Not another word. We’ll check it out.” A slow smile spread across his face and brought out the dimple in his right cheek. “This could be fun.”
Yes! Score one for me. Sort of. “You’re only agreeing because you think you can keep me out of trouble.”
“Only a complete idiot would think he could keep you out of trouble.”
“Huh. Then—”
“If I’m there—” he unlocked the carrier on the back of his bike and pulled out an ankle holster complete with weapon— “I can maybe keep you from getting killed.”
“Killed? Seriously? No, no. This is just surveillance. At most a chat. You sure as all hell don’t need a weapon.” I waved my hands toward the gun. “No weapons. This is…casual.”
He pulled a towel from the carrier and handed it to me. “Um-hmmm.”
I blotted the water from my face and arms. “Just a casual conversation. Young couple looking for a house. Nothing more. No probing questions.”
He eyed me, forehead crinkled. “The gun comes along or we don’t go.”
“Without ammunition?” I asked, hopefully, and then handed him the towel.
“With ammo.” He dried himself off, stowed the damp towel, and wrapped his hands around my shoulders. “From what you described yesterday, Jacobson didn’t die easily. I’d just as soon neither of us end up with a slit throat.”
I dropped my forehead to his chest. Inhaled the scent of Mitch and Black on Black, then let my fingers trail across his chest, seeking comfort. “Yeah. Okay, point made,” I mumbled. Much as I hated guns, the nightmare images of Jacobson’s body still haunted me and added considerable weight to his argument.
He gave me a single raised eyebrow and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go see how much trouble you can get into.”
It had been a while since I’d ridden on Mitch’s bike, and I looked forward to the bite of wind and the deep rumble of the engine, to say nothing of… “Will you stay here tonight?” Riding on the bike made for interesting foreplay.
He caught my look, and his eyes darkened. “Oh, yeah. I’m staying.”
A wave of lust and a flash of heat almost had me rethinking lunch and the visit to North’s office.
“Waiting makes it better.” Mitch—reading my mind.
Or maybe he picked up on the way my breath hitched and on the need fluttering in the core of my body. I inhaled, deep and long. “Right. North first. Sex later. But there’s another problem. Posing as an affluent couple intent on buying an upscale house, we should probably arrive in a more sedate vehicle in case someone looks out a window and spots us.”
“Uh-huh. Might ruin the image if we show up casual.”
My spirits drooped. I was all about a ’cycle ride, but common sense was about to screw up our bike-induced foreplay. “I’m gonna change into something dressy. Will you zip next door and ask Annie if we can borrow her Acura? I don’t think my Bug’ll cut it for the affluent scene.”
He tweaked a strand of hair that had worked free from my clip. “You got it, Sunshine.”
Mitch jogged up Annie’s front steps, and a tingle slipped up my spine. The man had a bike ride planned for later. His whistle floating on the breeze was a dead giveaway.
As we pushed through a pair of heavy glass doors that opened into the main lobby, a chemical smell stung my nostrils. This was definitely not a green building. The wood floor had been buffed to a deep glow and a plethora of plants were strategically arranged throughout the space. Seemed at odds with the scent of chemicals. The air conditioning was set high enough to send chills up my legs and a shiver down my spine. I didn’t take that as a good sign, but since Mitch didn’t say anything, it seemed prudent to keep my thoughts to myself. Reacting to air conditioning was a little too woo-woo, even for me.
The directory indicated that North Construction was on the third floor, and I vaguely remembered Clyde mentioning he was “suspended” when he’d been here to wash windows. With that thought another shiver chilled my bones.
When we stepped off the elevator, we faced a glass wall that had NORTH CONSTRUCTION written in discreet black lettering to the right of a beveled door. I squeezed Mitch’s hand and nodded at the door. “There aren’t any fingerprints.”
“And how much satisfaction will you get out of fixing that oversight?” he asked with a wink.
I planted my hand firmly against the door and pushed, then twisted it a little
to smear the handprint. Foggy images of the receptionist with a bottle of Windex and a soft cloth flashed through my mind. Damn. My fingers were still acting hinky.
The receptionist greeted us with slightly raised eyebrows. Her cherry red lips surrounded professionally whitened teeth, the contrast jarring in its intensity. She had a smooth, pale complexion framed by straight, black hair, and her eyes didn’t hold a trace of welcome.
“Woman’s the closest thing to a ghost I’ve ever seen,” I whispered through tight lips. Another chill scurried along my spine.
Mitch rested his hand on my shoulder, heavy and reassuring.
“How may I help you?” The sound of her voice resonated cool and brittle against the new-age music that played softly in the background.
I considered the décor of the office, and what it might tell me about North, while Mitch chatted up the receptionist. Black, white, and gray tones blended into stark lines, and the only seating option a modern sofa that looked less than body-friendly. Made my colorful dress stand out against the bland background.
When Ms. Ghost left us with a promise to check on Mr. North’s availability, I glanced at Mitch, then nodded at the sofa. “He must not want clients to get too comfortable while they wait for appointments”
“Yeah? You think that’s some kind of seat? Looks more like modern art.”
I tucked my hand into his. “It feels like we’ve stepped into a vacuum what with the lack of color and the ghost of a mannequin that greeted us. Granted I don’t hang out with the rich and famous, but this is a business. Isn’t there usually some hustle and bustle, people doing things, phones ringing, the sound of commerce? I don’t know, something, anything to indicate life beyond the abyss?”
Mitch glanced around. “If this were a white-glove investment firm or top-of-the-line attorney’s office, I’d say it fit my expectations. Except for the music. They’d be piping in classical in a high-class office.”
“But this is a construction company.” Doubt drifted through my voice.
a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) Page 6
