The Nosy Neighbor

by Fern Michaels

  I hate dogs, especially little ones. This one looks like a rat dressed up for Halloween. Yuk. Lucy almost laughed out loud. She should ignore Special Agent Connors’s thoughts, then thought otherwise. “I see you hate dogs, especially little dogs that look like rats dressed up for Halloween. Dogs know when people don’t like them. Did you know that?”

  Special Agent Connors looked away, a strange look on her face. Either I’m crazy, or she’s crazy, and she’s reading my mind. She turned back to face Lucy, who was smiling. There was no way the lawyer was responding to this thought.

  “Yes, I have heard that said about small dogs,” Special Agent Connors said. “When I was a child I was bitten rather badly. I’ve been afraid of dogs ever since,” she volunteered.

  Lucy turned her attention to the two male agents, her eyebrows raised. She flipped her hand backward as though to say, let’s get on with it.

  “Tell us about Leo Banks.”

  “There’s nothing much to tell you. I met him about eighteen months ago on the tennis court. He liked me, I liked him. It worked for us because he understood my working eighty hours a week. He traveled constantly. I was lucky if I saw him once a month. He called regularly. He was always a gentleman with me. He was thoughtful, sent me gifts, said all the things a woman wants to hear. We got engaged, were going to get married last year but postponed it. We were supposed to get married in February. That isn’t going to happen now. I know nothing about his business except what he told me. He said he brokered business deals between different parties. He was the go-between. That is the sum total of what I know.” Lucy’s face was devoid of any kind of expression, but she felt alert and wary.

  “Okay for now. Maybe something else will come to you later on,” Agent Lawrence said.

  Agent Mason stood up and took his turn standing next to the fireplace. “Your boyfriend, Leo Banks, popped up on our radar screen two years ago while we were investigating another case that he was involved in. A key player so to speak. Until that time, he was under our radar screen. It’s not easy for our agents in third-world countries, as you can imagine. Since that time, we’ve been tracking him. I see no harm in telling you that the man is like a phoenix, he keeps rising out of the ashes. He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere. You can do that when you have the network he has. He also has a Gulfstream that ferries him around at a moment’s notice. Our people have to fly commercial. We managed to lose him quite a few times, and the bureau is not proud of that. We aren’t sure if he’s the main man or the main man’s right hand. It is what it is.

  “Mr. Banks treads on thin ice sometimes. He’s as slick as they come, and one almost has to think he leads a charmed life. About six months ago he managed to swindle a Colombian drug dealer who was trying to put together a deal in Florida to gain some legitimacy and got away with his skin intact. We have the dealer in custody minus his money. He told us all he knows, which of his cronies pay Banks megamillions to set up legal businesses.” The agent fixed his gaze on Lucy, and said, “The man is a pro at laundering money. Now he’s on a hit list with the Colombians. That’s a serious hit list. One simply doesn’t screw around with those thugs.

  “If scenarios like that aren’t enough to keep you awake at night, here’s another one. He killed one of his clients at point-blank range when the man refused to pay a higher percentage of the deal they were working on. Banks has a bad habit of agreeing to a deal and then, at the eleventh hour, raising the stakes. You’re probably wondering how we know this. The man took a long time to die, and he talked. Deathbed confessions are something we pay attention to. Then there was Adam Ligar. Banks killed him, too, but that was a long time ago. I have more stories like these two, but you look a little ill, Miss Baker, so I’ll save them for another time.”

  Not only did Lucy look ill, she felt ill. My God, she was going to marry the man they were talking about. Lucy’s mind raced. “If you’re so convinced he’s doing what you say, why don’t you just arrest him? What are you waiting for?”

  “The right moment. We need an airtight case. Going off half-cocked gets you nowhere. And the man never asked you to sign a prenuptial agreement?” Connors lifted her eyebrows to show what she thought of that question.

  “No. We talked about it. Jonathan said nothing would sour a marriage like a prenup. I was surprised, but he said he waited this long in life to get married, and it would be for a lifetime, and he wanted to share. I don’t need his money. I had a career, I have my own portfolio, a pension fund, a stake in a lucrative law practice, and an inheritance from my parents. On my own, I could be comfortable for the rest of my life.”

  All three agents stared at Lucy, knowing they would be working the rest of their lives until it was time to collect their retirement. Lucy thought she saw resentment in Special Agent Connors’s face.

  Agent Lawrence chewed on his lower lip before he spoke. “Your fiancé is not a broker. A broker is a legitimate businessman. Leo Banks is a facilitator.” The term sounded obscene coming out of his mouth. “If someone wants something delivered or spirited out of the country, they call Leo Banks. Sometimes that something turns out to be a person or persons. Leo is known for getting the job done. In fact, Leo offers up a personal guarantee or he doesn’t take that robust seven-figure commission you mentioned. Being a lawyer, you should know the first rule is, follow the money. That’s what led us to you, Miss Baker. To our knowledge Banks has about fifteen different aliases with passports to match. He’s also a master at disguising himself. A little spirit gum, a little latex, different clothes, and he’s a different man. Three months ago he flew into Heathrow Airport dressed as a rabbi. Sad to say, we were a little slow to figure that out. Are you following me, Miss Baker?”

  Lucy was following him all right, but she was more concerned at the moment with her head going quiet on her. Nothing was coming through. She wondered what would happen if she told them she could hear their thoughts. They were waiting for her to say something. She grappled in her mind for something to say. “You…you’re making Jonathan sound like…like James Bond, Hannibal Lecter, and Jack the Ripper.”

  Agent Lawrence grimaced. “He’s got all the same hardware as Bond. Why does one man need six cigarette boats? Do you know anything about cigarette boats, Miss Baker?” Lucy shook her head.

  “Let me bring you up to speed, then,” Agent Lawrence said. “They’re long and low, usually black-hulled. Very sleek. The low profile makes it almost impossible to pick them up on radar. Now, if the water conditions are right, and if the engine compartment is insulated properly and the exhausts baffled, it wouldn’t be detected by infrared sensors. Those babies can do eighty knots with no sweat. A boat like that can outrun anything on the water. It’s the boat of choice for drug runners and some arms runners, too. And you have six of them in your name.” Lucy started to feel sick to her stomach at the agent’s words.

  “Why does Leo Banks need a fleet of cars? Why does he use digitally encrypted satellite phones? His laptop is encrypted, and he has enough firewalls installed to drive any encryption specialist to the brink of insanity. None of the above makes our job easier.” He asked again, “Are you following me, Miss Baker?”

  Lucy nodded, her heart pumping furiously. God in Heaven, who was this man she’d promised to marry?

  Special Agent Connors picked up the conversation. “That brings us to the house in Watchung that has your name on the deed. We’re a little concerned with the elaborate security attached to that property. Do you know anything about alarm systems, Miss Baker?”

  Lucy licked at her dry lips. “I have an alarm system here in the house, but it’s standard. Keypad, panic button, all the doors and windows are armed. I put it on when I go to bed at night. My own personal feeling is a dog is the best security in the world. The only reason I have an alarm system at all is to make my brother feel better. He insisted I have it installed. So, to answer your question, no, I know nothing about sophisticated alarm systems. I also know nothing about the house in Watchung. I
told you that already.” She tried to clear her mind, strained to pick up a word, but nothing was coming through.

  Connors acted like she hadn’t heard Lucy’s words. “I believe Agent Lawrence informed you the other day of the house’s unusual security system complete with laser trip wires and tremor plates. But did he mention our experts tell us they suspect there are pressure pads in the house that would activate, and trigger alarms, as well as release an incapacitating gas? This is warfare type of security. Now, our question to you is, why would a person need that kind of security if, as you say, he is a legitimate broker and does business ethically and aboveboard?”

  All Lucy could do was shake her head. “What is it you want me to do?” she whispered miserably.

  “Help us to get our hands on Mr. Banks. When do you expect to see him again?”

  Lucy could feel her stomach start to churn. “Jonathan was supposed to come for Thanksgiving, but he called the other day and said he couldn’t make it. He is coming for Christmas for ten days. I haven’t talked to him since. And, no, I did not tell him about any of our conversations. If I agree to help you, are you going to make…”

  “Your immediate problem go away?” Agent Lawrence said. “We’ll discuss the matter with our superiors at Justice and get back to you. Tomorrow. This might be a good time for you to explain why you defended José Rafael and Manuel Aroya. Both men are associates of Leo Banks.”

  “What?” Lucy sputtered.

  Mason’s face showed disbelief. “You didn’t know?”

  “No! No, I did not know.” Lucy hated herself for saying it, but she said it anyway. “I guess that’s why Jonathan was so upset when I said I was giving up the law after Aroya’s trial. Then I changed my mind and kept on working. Up until the acquittal came in, I thought he was innocent. Then he looked at me with this…this…smug look, and I knew he was guilty as hell. I was sick to my stomach. I knew right then I couldn’t do it anymore. Steven talked me into staying on. Jonathan was very upset. Then, after my last case, I finally made up my mind to hang it all up. Jonathan has been nagging me ever since to go back to the firm. I swear to you, I didn’t know those men knew Jonathan. All either one said to me at the initial consultation was that they had heard I was the best of the best and they needed the best. They had the money to pay my fees, and I don’t come cheap. Later on, Jonathan said he knew of José Rafael, and Aroya, but did not know either of them personally, and had followed the case in the papers. I had no reason not to believe him then.”

  “They, as in Leo Banks and his people, would have put the squeeze on you if you’d been appointed to the bench. The house, the brokerage accounts, the cigarette boats, all of that would have been used to blackmail you,” Agent Lawrence said quietly.

  Lucy fought down the bile that was rising in her throat. At the same time she strained to hear their thoughts, but to no avail. She looked down at the hands on her watch. How long was the tape in the cassette player? An hour on each side or was it a thirty-minute-sided tape? Would it make a sound when it clicked off? She didn’t know.

  She had to get rid of the agents now. “I don’t think we have anything else to discuss. I’ll wait for you to get back to me tomorrow. What that means is this meeting is over.” To make her point, Lucy started for the door, the dogs following her.

  The moment the door closed behind the federal agents, Lucy locked it and slumped against it. She was definitely in the tall grass now, and the view ahead was not to her liking.

  7

  The two men sat in Wylie’s kitchen staring at one another. Wylie spoke first. “What do you think, Jake?” He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until it exploded out of his mouth like a gunshot.

  “What I think, old buddy, is you have the hots for your neighbor, and you can’t see straight.” The parapsychologist shrugged. “Listen, I wouldn’t stake my reputation on it, but I think Lucy’s condition will fade in time. Right now she’s on a high unlike anything she’s ever experienced. Plus, she’s a woman, and women tend to get emotional, even women lawyers. Now, if her present condition isn’t what’s bothering you, I bet you’re worried about the man in her life who is responsible for all this. Right or wrong?”

  Wylie ran his fingers through his hair before he got up to make a pot of coffee. “The bastard set her up,” he barked. “Yeah, I like her. I like her a lot, as a matter of fact. You don’t think she loves him, do you, Jake?”

  “Nah. You know what I think, Wylie. I think she was relieved that this happened. That’s my own ESP at work. You got anything to munch on?” the handsome parapsychologist asked.

  Wylie reached up to the top of the refrigerator and tossed Jake a bag of corn chips. He poured two cups of coffee and set them on the table.

  “Coffee and corn chips don’t go together, Wylie. Don’t you have any Coke or Pepsi?”

  “No. The weather’s been too bad to go to the store. Just drink the damn coffee already, Jake.”

  “Testy, aren’t we.” Jake grinned. “You know, for a guy, this is a cozy, comfortable kitchen,” Jake said, changing the subject in the hopes of driving away the intense look on his friend’s face.

  “My mother decorated the kitchen. She pretty much did the whole house after my ex cleaned me out,” Wylie said, waving his arms at the green-and-yellow balloon-type curtains, the matching yellow crockery, and the green plants, one in the corner by the bay window, one hanging over the sink, and one in the corner of the counter. All looked lush and green, with no yellowing leaves. “Mom said I have no decorating sense. She calls me every Sunday to make sure I water and feed the plants. It’s easier to follow through than it is to try and explain why they die. Been there, done that. Actually, Jake, I take great pride in my plants,” Wylie said defensively.

  “Well, good for you. If there was ever a guy who should be married, it’s you. You really like Lucy, huh?”

  Wylie rolled his eyes. He gulped at the scalding coffee in his cup, his eyes watering. “They should be leaving by now, don’t you think?”

  Jake fished in the bag for a fistful of chips. He popped them in his mouth, one at a time, and crunched down. “You could check to see if their car is still there. That would be one way to find out.”

  “Wiseass,” Wylie muttered as he sprinted to the living room window.

  “You’re right, they’re leaving,” he shouted. “Should we be discreet and wait like two minutes or barrel over there right now?”

  Jake shook his head. If his friend wasn’t in love, he was about to fall head over heels for his neighbor. “Whatever floats your boat, Wylie.”

  “I think we should wait ten minutes, or so. I don’t want to seem…you know, pushy. Yeah, ten minutes is good. What should we do while we’re waiting, Jake?”

  Jake’s face scrunched up in a grin. “When was the last time you got laid, Wylie?”

  Wylie pretended horror. “Is that what you think this is all about, sex? Well, it isn’t. It’s about helping, understanding, being there, my dog loves her, and then maybe sex. Not in that order. Shut the hell up, Jake. Why’d you ask me that anyway? It’s none of your damn business.”

  “We are prickly. Relax, Wylie.”

  “Easy for you to say, Jake. You aren’t personally involved!” Wylie huffed.

  • • •

  As soon as the FBI agents left, the phone rang. Lucy was on her way to the kitchen in search of the brandy bottle. If there was ever a time in her life when she needed a drink, this was it. She didn’t hurry to answer the phone, thinking it was Wylie. She took a healthy swig straight from the bottle. Her eyes burning, she carried the bottle to the family room and answered on the speakerphone. Her greeting was flat when she said, “Hello.”

  “Good afternoon, darling,” Jonathan St. Clair said cheerfully, his voice coming through the speakerphone loud and clear.

  Lucy looked at the bottle she was holding, then at the phone on the table. She felt like pitching both into the fireplace. “Jonathan, I wasn’t expecting your call.” What
an incredibly stupid thing to say.

  “I’ve been thinking about you and missing you. I’m just so sorry I won’t be there for Thanksgiving. I just wanted you to know it’s tearing me apart. I promise to make it up to you over Christmas, though. I never break a promise, you know that. How are you, darling?”

  Once the question would have thrilled her. Now, it scared the hell out of her. An actress she wasn’t, but she tried. “Well, Jonathan, I’m sad that you won’t be here. I do miss you, and I’m looking forward to spending the holidays with you. Should I wait to pick out the Christmas tree till you get here, or should I get it, put it up, and then, when you get here, we’ll decorate it?” Lucy felt sickened at the artificial lilt in her voice and wondered if Jonathan was picking up on it. He was not stupid, as she knew very well.

  “I’m not one for tromping through fields to pick out a tree. I can, however, see myself putting the star on top.” The chuckle in his voice sounded forced to Lucy’s ears.

  Lucy swigged from the brandy bottle. “Actually, Jonathan, I was planning on getting the tree from the Sunoco station where I get my gas. They deliver and set it up for a small fee.” She was feeling light-headed. Now, she wished she’d eaten more instead of picking at her food earlier. Drinking on an empty stomach was not a good idea.

  “Do you miss me?”

  “Of course. Do you miss me?” Lucy asked, in return, hoping that her voice did not give away just how much she did not miss him.

  “More than you know. By the way, I’m on a plane headed for Switzerland. Would you like me to send you some Swiss chocolate? I know you have a sweet tooth.”