The door chimed and a happy whistling tune pierced the air. From the pictures in Steve's files, Gloria recognized the thin, attractive, bespectacled man who appeared as Guy Bishop—although admittedly he looked different with his clothes on.
Penny introduced them, and he smiled wide, seeming to be in a happy mood. "Nice to finally meet you, Gloria."
Gloria's gaydar went off, and she wondered vaguely what a small town like Mojo had to offer a homosexual man in terms of lifestyle. "Same here," she said. From one closeted person to another.
"Gloria just asked us if Steve had any enemies," Marie said. "Do you know of anyone, Guy?"
He sobered and shook his head. "No. And why would you ask something like that? I mean, Steve's death was an accident, wasn't it?"
"Sure it was," Marie said quickly. "But someone left a voodoo doll by the door of the law office, and Gloria thinks it might have been meant for Steve, as a warning of some kind."
Guy frowned. "Another voodoo doll? You'd think everyone in this town would have learned a lesson, considering what happened with Deke."
"Did you keep it?" Marie asked.
"Yes," Gloria said reluctantly.
"Maybe you should look up Jules Lamborne," Penny suggested.
"Who's that?"
"An old woman who goes around town making strange prophecies," Marie said.
Penny glanced at the blue-haired woman sideways. "You should talk." Then she turned to Gloria. "Jules knows something about those voodoo dolls, I just feel it."
"It was probably a coincidence,"' Gloria said, choosing her words carefully. "But it does leave me worried that someone had a problem with Steve. Did he have a reputation I should know about?"
Guy barked a laugh. "Steve? A reputation? I hate to speak ill of the dead, but the only reputation that Steve had was for being the most boring, unlikable person in town. Ask Marie, he had the hots for her."
Gloria looked at the young woman in surprise. "Oh?"
Marie frowned at Guy. "Even if that was true, Steve knew I already have a boyfriend."
Gloria didn't miss Penny's eye-roll. "Don't get started on the incomparable Kirk, the rich pilot/ physician/big-game hunter/humanitarian."
"Don't forget that he has a Mensa card and hobnobs with royalty," Guy added.
Gloria looked at Marie. "Does your boyfriend live near Mojo?"
Penny and Guy guffawed, and Marie crossed her arms in defiance. "Kirk has homes all over the world."
"What she means," Guy said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "is that she's never met this superhero in person."
"We have a long-distance relationship," Marie clarified.
Penny removed the metal diffuser from the mug and slid the steaming tea toward Gloria. "Lemon and sugar?"
"Just lemon, please."
"How about a muffin?"
"That sounds good, especially considering I didn't get to eat the ones Marie brought to me yesterday."
Penny looked at Marie. "That was nice of you."
"I knew you would have if you'd been here," Marie murmured, clearly distracted.
The door chimed again. Gloria sipped the hot, aromatic tea from the mug, reminding herself she should do everything in her power to keep her nerves calm until the Meclazine fully kicked in.
Then she turned her head to see Zane Riley walking in with B.J. Beaumont and a third man she didn't know, and her pulse skyrocketed. So much for staying calm.
She held her breath, wondering if, in the hours since she'd seen Zane, he'd figured out her secret. When his gaze fell on her, however, his curt nod was void of anything personal.
Her disappointment was acute.
B.J., on the other hand, walked up behind Penny and nuzzled her neck, oblivious to the audience. She swatted at him. "What are you up to?"
"No good," B.J. said mischievously, then sobered and gestured to the other men. "This is Zane Riley, he's the new chief of police, and this is Cameron Phelps, he's a member of the missing persons task force. Zane and Cameron, this is my main squeeze, Penny Francisco, her right and left hands, Marie Gaston and Guy Bishop, and this is another new resident of Mojo, Gloria Dalton."
"We've met," Zane said shortly.
"Yes, yesterday," Gloria murmured, mimicking his all-business demeanor, when inside her heart was thrashing in her chest. Would she ever get used to seeing him in the natural course of a day?
You can't get used to it, a voice in her head whispered. You have to find out if your cover has been compromised and if so, be ready to walk away... again.
Cameron Phelps, whose sandy-colored hair was clipped in a military crew cut with a few waves on top, swept a friendly smile over the group. "Nice to meet everyone." His gaze lingered on Gloria in appreciation before he nodded. "Ma'am."
She blinked in surprise, then noticed Zane looking back and forth between them.
"So, Cameron," Penny said, "where are you from?"
"Most recently San Diego," he said, his voice deep, his speech precise. "I was on a team that was successful in developing a missing unidentified persons database for the state of California. I'm here to collate all the information from across the country on unidentified remains that have been found and marry it to the database that B.J. and Kyle are building on persons who've been reported missing."
"That sounds like a mammoth task," Gloria said.
"It is," Cameron admitted, "but technology and DNA have come a long way, and having the resources behind this project will make all the difference."
"We're lucky to have someone with Cameron's credentials on this project," B.J. said. "Once this national matching system is in place, hundreds, maybe thousands, of missing persons cases could be solved overnight."
A memory stirred in the back of Gloria's mind—she recalled that when her mother had broken ties with the program and assumed a new identity, her handler had told her if something ever happened to her mother, it was likely she wouldn't be identified because her records were confidential. The eight years of silence suddenly screamed like a siren. Was it possible that her mother's remains were logged into this very database, never to be identified?
"What happens when a person is reported missing?" Guy asked no one in particular.
"That's the problem," B.J. said. "Up until now, missing persons cases have been reported locally and handled locally."
"Which means," Zane interjected, "that if the person crossed or was taken across a state line, the chances of finding them diminished considerably. And the more jurisdictions crossed, the lower the chances of the case being resolved."
Penny made a rueful noise. "You sound as if you have a personal stake in this, Chief Riley."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Years ago I filed a missing persons report that was never solved, so, yeah, I guess I do have a personal stake in this."
Gloria froze, feeling as if a spotlight had been illuminated on her fake curls.
"Who went missing?" Marie asked.
Penny elbowed her. "Maybe that's private, Marie."
"It's okay," Zane said. "It was a girl I was friends with in high school. One day she and her family simply disappeared, and I never heard from her again."
Gloria was paralyzed. Her head buzzed at the surreal moment, feeling as if all her lies were tattooed on her face. She felt so conspicuous, sure everyone in the room would notice.
"That's so romantic," Marie said dreamily. "Maybe you'll find her someday."
Zane's expression closed, as if he had exposed too much of himself. "Meanwhile, there's plenty to take care of here. B.J., Cameron, let me know what I can do to help the task force." He turned to go, then stopped and settled his gaze on Gloria. She swallowed hard, relieved the others were engaged in conversation.
"Ms. Dalton, will you be in your office today?"
She untied her tongue. "Yes."
"Then I'll be by to pick you up later this afternoon for that matter I asked for your assistance with?"
She nodded and watched him walk out the door. Her senses were on tilt, and she
couldn't blame it on vertigo.
Zane had reported her missing all those years ago?
And he was still looking for her?
Chapter 7
Gloria left the health food store on wobbly legs, slid into the driver's seat of her car, closed the door, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. How had things gotten so complicated, so quickly? By coming to Mojo, she seemed to have inadvertently plunged herself into a soul-sucking vortex created by the intersection of a voodoo doll, Steve Chasen, Zane Riley, the missing persons task force, and her own cloak-and-dagger personal history.
Her cell phone rang, rousing her from the funk that threatened to overtake her. The caller ID screen read Private. She connected the call. "Hello?"
"Gloria, this is George O'Connor. I got your message. What's wrong?"
The U.S. marshal who had handled her and her mother's involvement in WITSEC from the beginning was succinct, as always. "George, a man I hired to work for me died in a car accident yesterday. When I went through some of his things I discovered he might have been blackmailing local residents over domestic issues, and I found a folder he was compiling on... me."
"What was in the folder?"
"Just a handwritten note that said 'Contracted for info on L.L.'"
George made a rueful noise. "You said the man is dead?"
"Yes, he died on the way to the hospital. But obviously he was working with someone."
"Sounds like it. And I'm afraid this is especially bad news considering Bernard Riaz was just granted a new trial and released from prison."
Gloria inhaled sharply to hear the name of the man responsible for her father's death. "What? Why?"
"Based on findings that the D.A. suppressed evidence in the original trial. Unfortunately, without your mother to testify again, the government's case to retry Riaz is shaky. I don't suppose you've heard from her?"
"No," Gloria said tightly.
"And you wouldn't tell me if you had?"
"I... don't know. And when were you going to tell me about Riaz?"
"I'm sorry—I've been swamped."
Gloria's eyes widened. "You've been swamped? My father's killer is on the streets and you've been too swamped to tell me?"
He sighed. "I'm sorry. Gloria. I swear I was going to call you, which is why I was so surprised to hear from you. If your cover has been compromised, then these two things could be related. You could be in real danger if Riaz's people are looking for you to try to get to your mother."
She swallowed the fear that lodged in her throat. "What should I do?"
"Give me the name of your dead employee and I'll see what I can find out about him."
She told him Steve's name, then recited the address and Social Security number she'd gotten from Steve when she hired him.
"Give me a couple of days to look into this," George said. "Meanwhile, see if you can find out who this Chasen fellow might have been working with, but be discreet. And if you hear from your mother, call me. For both of your sakes."
At the warning in his voice, Gloria's lungs contracted. "Good-bye," she murmured, then disconnected the call. Only then did she realize she hadn't mentioned she'd also run into someone who'd known her in her previous life... but if George told her to leave town when he called back, seeing Zane again would be a moot point.
With her senses on alert, she drove the short distance back to the Charmed Village Shopping Center and parked in front of her law office, whose boarded-up front looked bleak and unwelcoming. Further down the sidewalk, a young man was unlocking the door of Tam's Electronics. She'd found the receipt showing Deke had purchased the office alarm system from Tam's. Grasping at the chance to do something productive, she locked her car door and headed to the electronics shop first.
When she walked inside, the fluorescent tube lights overhead were coming on section by section, revealing row after row of small electronics and accessories: cell phones, portable stereos and MP3 players, handheld electronic games, cameras, radio-controlled toys, and office equipment. Near the entrance sat a photocopy machine for three cents a page—an unheard-of price, which probably explained why Deke hadn't gotten around to repairing the photocopier in the law office.
But apparently Deke had been so preoccupied with his divorce, his mistress, and the goings-on at the voodoo museum that he'd ignored a lot of things—including the fact that his paralegal had been blackmailing his clients... although it was possible, and perhaps likely, that Steve Chasen had seized the illicit opportunity to make money only after Deke's death.
Upbeat, funky music flowed into the space via overhead speakers, and a few seconds later, the young man whom she'd seen unlocking the door strolled into the showroom, wearing draggy jeans and an overlong shirt. He was pinning on a nametag that said Mark when he looked up and saw her.
"I didn't hear you come in," he said in the drone of a half-awake teenager. "Can I—I mean, may I help you?"
"I'm Gloria Dalton. I took over Deke Black's law office a few doors down."
His eyebrows climbed high. "Wow, I saw the car sticking out of your window when I got to work yesterday. I heard the guy didn't make it."
"That's right," she said. "Unfortunately, Steve died on the way to the hospital."
"Wow. What happened?"
"The doctors think he had a heart attack. Did you know him?"
"Nah, not really. He came in a few times to buy stuff for his phone and stuff. Bummer about him dying and all."
"Um, yes, listen, I know your company installed the security system in the office—could someone come down to see what needs to be done to repair the damage caused by the accident?"
"That'll be Elton," Mark said.
The itchy man must have been the only guy in Mojo who owned a hammer. "He's doing the repairs to the office. Do you have the specs for the system on file?"
"Yeah, we keep all that stuff. I'll give Elton a call if you want. He can let us know what parts we'll need to order."
"Yes, thank you. And do you service our copier as well?"
"Yeah, I'll call the tech and have him come out." Mark gestured to a display on the counter. "Wanna buy a candy bar for the victims of the Mojo voodoo museum?" He winced. "Sorry, but my boss is making us ask everyone who comes in the door or he docks our pay."
She thought of the half box of candy bars on Steve's desk that had been ruined and bought a couple of the chocolate bars, then asked Mark to help her select an antenna booster for her cell phone. Afterward, she walked down to her office, surprised to see a woman tying a small black bow on the door. When the woman turned, Gloria recognized her as the mousy woman from the doctor's office yesterday—the one with the foot problem... or was it her knee?
"Hello," Gloria said tentatively.
The woman gave her a shy smile. "Hello, Ms. Dalton. I'm Diane Davidson. I saw you yesterday at Dr. Whiting's. I hope your hand is okay."
Gloria flexed her hand in the taut bandage. "It's better, thanks. It was generous of you to let me barge in front of you after you'd been waiting."
Diane nodded demurely, her eyes furtive as she gestured toward the bow. "I hope you don't mind—I thought I should do... something to mark Steve's passing."
"No, that's nice of you. Did you know Steve?"
"A little. I saw him around town, and he seemed like a shy, lonely young man."
Hm, one person's difficult and unlikable was another person's shy and lonely. "Would you like to be notified if there's a memorial service?"
"Yes, please." The woman fidgeted, then said, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you, to see if you needed help. I lost my teaching job earlier this year, and then I worked in the museum gift shop until it... was closed." Her eyes went wide. "I had no idea what was going on there." Then she straightened. "But I'm a good worker, and if you need an assistant until you can replace Steve with someone more qualified, I'd like to be considered."
Gloria warmed to the woman, whose pale eyes hinted at past trials and tribulations. She seemed like a genuin
e person. Gloria's gaze moved to the Wiccan jewelry the woman wore.
Diane's hand flew to the pentagram pendant at her neck. "I won't wear my jewelry if it bothers you."
"No, it's fine," Gloria said. "Why don't we go in and talk?"
She unlocked the door, to be greeted by the uncanny coldness of the place and the dust and debris from yesterday's accident and repairs.
"I can clean this up for you," Diane offered quickly.
"I was planning to clean it up myself," Gloria said, "but I could use a hand." The phone rang, splitting the quiet air. "Excuse me."
She walked over to the phone sitting on Steve Chasen's desk. Trying not to remember his body landing there, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Is this the law office of Gloria Dalton?" a man asked.
"Yes, it is," she said, chiding herself for not answering more professionally. "I'm Gloria."
"Is it true that there was a voodoo doll involved in the death of the man who was killed in the accident yesterday at your law office?"
Gloria blinked. "Who is this?"
"Daniel Guess, with the Post. Just confirming a tip that before Steven E. Chasen," he said, apparently referring to notes, "drove through the window of your law office, you received a voodoo doll of his likeness."
Zane's remarks on not stirring up rumors about voodoo when the town was trying to recover from its bad reputation went through her head. She didn't want to be the one who brought unwanted attention to the situation. On the other hand, she didn't want to lie. "I don't have a comment, Mr. Guess. Please don't call here again unless you have business to conduct with my office. Good-bye." She set down the receiver and heaved a sigh.
"Trouble?" Diane asked behind her.
Gloria hesitated. "A reporter, trying to make something sinister out of Steve Chasen's death." She scrutinized Diane Davidson, in a quandary as to what to tell the woman about a job. Depending on what she found out about Steve Chasen's blackmail file and what her WITSEC handler told her, she could be leaving town abruptly.
The phone rang again, and Diane walked toward it. "Let me answer it." She picked up the receiver. "Gloria Dalton, attorney-at-law, how may I direct your call? Hold, please." She punched a button, then looked up. "It's Sheena Linder. She'd like to come in and get your advice on a legal matter, if you're open for business."
Voodoo or Die Page 5
