“Wednesday?” Jordan asked. “The night of the break-in?”
Eddie sat up straighter. “Me? Where you going with this, Ann?”
It wasn’t Ann who looked back at him, it was Detective Murphy. Jordan held her breath. The beginning of an interrogation if she ever heard one.
“I was with this tall drink of water.” He glanced at Jordan.
Ann looked at Jordan for confirmation.
Jordan nodded. “He was.”
Ann focused her attention back on Eddie. “Time frame?”
“Muggs relieved me about seven. I dropped by here and changed clothes then went straight to Jordan’s. I was there by eight. Say, wait a minute. You don’t think I ….”
Ann uncrossed her legs and shifted around. She seemed antsy. “I have to ask these questions. I need to rule out everyone. Jordan, what time did he leave you?”
She opened her mouth to lie flat out, but stopped when Eddie put his hand on her arm.
“I left after a few minutes. Jordan’s mother called and said she hurt herself. Jordan had to take her to the ER.”
Jordan nodded grudgingly.
Ann shifted her gaze back to Eddie. “You didn’t go with her?”
“No. I came home.” There was a furrow between his dark brows.
“So, you were with her maybe twenty, thirty minutes at the most?”
“That’s right,” he said.
Jordan reached for his hand. She knew what was coming and held her breath, praying she was wrong.
“Interact with anyone, Eddie? Can anyone back you up on this?”
He shook his head slowly.
Jordan’s stomach lurched. “Maybe you called Tank? Diego? Anybody?”
Eddie didn’t answer. He was looking at Ann, his dark eyes probing, inquisitive.
Ann snapped her notebook closed. “You don’t have an alibi.”
Eddie set his jaw. His chin came up. “Just get to the point, Murphy. Say what you came to say.”
“We got an anonymous calla burner phone. A tip to search your Porsche.”
“You what?” Eddie half rose.
It was Jordan’s turn to be the calm one. She touched his leg, and he sat back.
His hands shot into the air. “I can’t believe this. One of my best friends is dead. And they’re looking at me for it?”
“Eddie,” Jordan said. She hoped he read the silent message she sent him. Hold it together.
The doorbell rang.
Ann said, “That will be Neil.”
Jordan went to the door. Her hands were shaking, and her legs felt wobbly.
Ann’s partner, Detective Neil Thompson, walked in with a black leather satchel and plopped it on the coffee table.
Eddie looked fit to be tied. “Hey, that’s my bag. You can’t just—”
Neil slapped a folded paper onto the table. “It’s a warrant, dude. Even you probably know what a search warrant is. All nice and legal.”
“What the hell you doing searching my car?”
Neil spoke in his “just the facts” detective tone. “Making a case.”
Eddie looked ready to knock the other man to the floor. Neil’s smart mouth wasn’t helping matters. Maybe Ann would keep things stable, but, no, she was focused on the black bag.
“Why aren’t you out there looking for the guy who killed my friend?” Eddie spit out.
“Because,” Neil Thompson made a big show of pulling on a pair of thin latex gloves, “we figure we already got the guy who did it, pretty boy.” He opened the bag, reached in, and laid the contents out one by onea small case with Eddie’s lock-picking tools, a high intensity flashlight, a clean black T-shirt, and a small tool kit.
“And what do we have here?” Neil lifted two small evidence bags from the satchel and spread them in front of Eddie.
Eddie stared. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his face a little flushed. It was obvious he was having a difficult time staying calm.
The clear bags contained two small acrylic sleeves, each with one of the stolen Dahlonega gold coins.
“I never saw—”
“Yeah, I bet.” Neil reached in again and came out with a larger bag, this one holding a bloody Bowie knife. “And what about this, sunshine? Bet you never saw this either? Huh?”
Eddie sat back against the sofa, stone-faced. Jordan didn’t have to ask. He was done talking. And it was a smart move. The bloody knife was his or exactly like his. She’d seen it before—last fall when they worked a case for the Moon & Stars Foundation.
Ann stood, glanced at Jordan then said, “Eddie Marino, you’re under arrest for the murder of Marvin Baxter, also known as Muggs Baxter, and the burglary of the Arizona Heritage Museum. You have the right to remain ….”
Detective Thompson cuffed Eddie while Ann Mirandized him.
“Ann,” Jordan said. “This is a frame-up and you know it. Why would he go to all the trouble to steal the coins and then leave them in the car?”
“It’s just two coins,” Ann replied. “They might have been left behind by accident.”
Eddie’s eyes never left Jordan’s as they took him by the arms and led him toward the door.
“Jordan?” One word sending a thousand messages.
She nodded. “I got you. Don’t worry.”
“What, me worry? You forget who you’re talking to, sweetheart.” His words were casual, but his eyes were troubled.
Chapter 4
The door closed behind them, and Jordan collapsed onto the soft leather sofa. She buried her head in her hands and sat crying, finally able to give in to her emotions.
How could Ann just up and arrest Eddie like some thug off the street?
She was surprised to find herself breathing hard; then it struck her. Ann had a job to do, a hard job. Cut the girl some slack, Jordan. At least Ann gave them the consideration of doing this in the privacy of his place, not cuffing him out on the street or at the office. This wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time their friendship and their professional relationship were at odds.
The phone played “Darth Vader’s Theme.” “Oh, great, Mother, just what I need,” she said aloud. She took a deep breath. “Hello?”
Why did she answer it? She didn’t want to talk to her mother. Did she?
“Jordie, I just wanted to keep you in the loop. I’m doing much better. The drugs are helping.”
A sob caught in Jordan’s throat.
“Are you crying? I said I was fine, dear. Don’t worry.”
“No, no, I’m glad you’re better.”
“But you are crying. Tell Mother what’s wrong.”
“It’s Eddie. They arrested him, Mom. Took him downtown.”
“Arrested. Our Eddie? But, why would—?”
Since when was he our Eddie? “For theft … and murder.” Jordan couldn’t hold back any longer. It all came out at once, the sobbing, the shaking, the blubbering and sniffling. She told Mary everything, every last detail. She was surprised as hell that she wanted to, but even more amazed at Mary’s reaction.
“Are they out of their minds? Poor Eddie!”
What? No recriminations, no I-told-you-sos?
“I feel just terrible about this.” Mary sounded genuinely upset.
“Why should you feel terrible? You didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“If it hadn’t been for me, he would have been with you, and the police would have known he didn’t do it. It’s all because of the darn step I fell off. I’m going to have that deck ripped out!”
Not about you this time, Mother. She didn’t say it, though. Self-centered or not, her mom was obviously upset. “Look, I need to go. I have to get him out.”
“Just a minute. Let me help. I’ll call your father’s lawyer, Saul Goldberg. He’s the best. I’ll even pay. It’s the least I can do since it was all my fault.”
Jordan softened at her mother’s unusual tenderness. “Mom, how nice, but Eddie’s innocent. He won’t need a high-powered a
ttorney like Saul.”
“I really want to help. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am.” The tears had stopped. Since when did talking to Mary calm her down? A conversation with her overbearing, control freak mother usually ramped things up. Now there was something to think about later. She sniffed again. “I need to go blow my nose.”
“Call me if you need me, dear. You know I’m always here for you.”
Right, Mom. Here, there, and everywhere.
Jordan’s next move was to call Ryan Avery, her choice of attorney, and notify him to set up a bail bond. Ryan was an ex-corporate attorney from New York. He knew what he was doing and didn’t waste any time getting down to it.
Ryan was a man of his word.
Jordan was able to pick up Eddie in front of lockup at three thirty, only six hours later. He was a different man than the one who’d walked out the door in the morning. No defiance. No arrogance.
Somber.
She held him in her arms, trying to ignore the odd odor clinging to him. “You okay?”
“I’m good. Not like it’s my first time in jail,” he said quietly.
He put on a good act, but it was obvious that beneath the surface he was more than a little affected by the experience. Years ago, when Eddie worked for Cleveland crime lord Anthony Vercelli he probably had seen the inside of a cell. But he was done with the mob, had been for a while. She wanted to think he was a different man now—the kind lockup would get to.
“So, did I miss anything?”
“Nothing I can think of.” She tossed him the keys. “You drive.”
He cocked a brow. “Like I wasn’t going to?”
There he was. She could breathe a little easier. This was the man she knew how to deal with. “Gina is going to sweet-talk our clients and see if we can get extensions on all the ongoing cases that aren’t an emergency. That way we can dedicate ourselves to this one.”
She opened the window and turned her head toward it to breathe. He didn’t seem to notice.
Eddie pulled out into the downtown Phoenix traffic.
“So, did you think up a plan in the last few hours? I mean, since you had some time to kill?”
“Ha-ha,” he said. “My plan is to shower, then we go to work. Lockup stinks. I need to wash it off.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but—”
He even laughed. “Yeah, but you rolled down the window.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll leave you at your place, give you some time to get your head back in it while I check on things at the office. I’ll pick you up later and we’ll put a game plan together.”
She didn’t need to check on things at the agency. It was probably running better now than when she’d been in charge. Eddie’s niece, Gina, was like a mini-drill sergeant when it came to keeping things in line. What Jordan really had to do was figure out how to run interference for the agency. It wouldn’t look good once word got around one of its principals was arrested for murder and for stealing something they’d been hired to guard.
The hot shower was like a baptism/rebirth/renewal. So much had happened since Thursday morning, when they discovered the crime scene. It was hard to believe it was only Friday afternoon.
Well, at least he didn’t smell like winos and stale urine anymore. Eddie stepped out of the shower. Where the heck did he put his towel? The bathroom was so steamy, he couldn’t even see himself in the mirror, much less
“Hey, Eddie.”
He whipped around, regretting he hadn’t brought a weapon in with him. It could have turned out badly. Stupid. Off his game.
But this time it was only … “What are you doing here, Sofia?”
The steam cleared, and there she was. Sofia Vercelli, the daughter of crime boss Anthony Vercelli and Eddie’s old squeeze, leaned against the doorjamb. All five foot one of her. Her eyes swept him top to bottom and back up, pausing somewhere around the middle. Oh, yeah, naked. Not that it mattered. She’d seen him naked before, plenty of times.
She looked the same. Frickin’ gorgeous. Her black hair was shorter and fuller than when they’d been together, but the rest of the package was just like he remembered. Petite, slim, stacked. Sultry as hell. Don’t even think about it, Marino. She’s toxic.
“You’re lookin’ good.” She handed him the towel. “Been working out?”
He wrapped it around his waist. “What do you want?”
“Been missing you, baby.”
“Look. I’m busy. How’d you get in, anyway?”
She pulled a gold chain from inside the low-cut sweater and waved a key at him. “You think I’d toss the key to your place, handsome? Not in a million years.”
What the hell kind of security specialist am I? “Guess I forgot to change the locks, didn’t I?”
He moved around her and went to the kitchen. Crap, wasn’t this just what he needed today?
She scurried along behind him, her stilettos clicking on the hardwood floor like a puppy’s nails. “I’m here to help you.”
He snagged a bottle of water from the fridge, upended it, and drank it down. “Help me? How the hell can you help me?”
“I was all alone Wednesday night. Alone. That means nobody to talk to, nobody to see, nobody to say I wasn’t with you.” She purred like the sleek cat she was.
He waited. What was she talking about? Then it hit him. “You saying—?”
“I’m saying you’re looking at your alibi. Right here.” She put her hands on her hips, thrust out her ample breasts, and gave him those bedroom eyes. “Bet you never guessed.”
What the hell was she up to? He knew her inside and out, literally. They’d been together a long time—until she’d deceived him. He would bet good money she had an ulterior motive. Sofia wouldn’t waste her time if there weren’t something in it for her. “Alibi?” he asked. “How did you even know about the trouble I’m in?”
She shrugged. “Daddy. He’s got a guy down at central lockup.”
Daddy. Of course. She was Vercelli’s daughter, all right. What would the old man say if he knew she was here, offering to lie for him, putting herself on the line? “Daddy won’t appreciate you coming to my rescue.”
Eddie was always careful to stay off Vercelli’s bad side. They left things pretty dicey when they went their separate ways. Vercelli had wanted him to graduate from fixer to killer. Eddie wouldn’t do it. He was one of the few people who left Vercelli’s operation on two feet. Since then he’d been pretty much walking on eggshells around the powerful racketeer.
Sofia could complicate his fragile relationship with Anthony big time. Why would she lie for me? Why wouldn’t she, was more like it. In the past she lied about him and to him. Why not for him?
“Something in it for you? You never do something for nothing.”
She pouted. Funny how he used to think that was cute. “I was hoping it would put things in a better light—for us, I mean. Maybe you’d take a more favorable view of me.”
“I’m with Jordan, now. There won’t be any ‘favorable view.’ Not now. Not ever. Not even if you do this for me. You need to know that going in.”
She smiled and moved close. “Yeah? We’ll see.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “I’m thinking you’ll be grateful after I get you off the murder charges. Didn’t you miss me, Eddie? Just a little?”
She raised her lips to his. He turned his head away.
“When I said I was giving you time to get your head back in the game, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Eddie looked over Sofia’s head.
Jordan stood in the living room. If looks were daggers, he’d be stabbed through the heart.
Chapter 5
Jordan wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told her steam was coming out her ears.
Eddie backed away from the flashy girl, his face flush with guilt. His towel came loose and slipped off his hip, and he snatched it to cover himself.
Seriously? Isn’t it a little late for that?
He was backpedaling as fast as he could, faster than she’d ever seen him do it before. “Jordan, it’s not what it looks like.”
“No? I really hope not, because it looks like you were standing in your kitchen, naked, kissing another woman.”
He stuttered. “This is Sofia Vercelli.”
The Sofia person waved manicured fingers in a casual greeting. Jordan resisted the urge to scratch her eyes out.
Wait a minute. Vercelli?
Jordan spit out, “Maybe you should get dressed while Sofia and I … chat.”
“Yeah, right.” He shook a finger at Jordan. “Play nice.”
The Vercelli woman strutted into the living room and cocked an eyebrow while she watched Eddie head down the hallway. He flipped the towel around to cover his backside.
Jordan turned to Sofia. “Eddie have something in his eye?”
Sofia twisted her head. “No, why?”
“When I came in it looked like maybe you were trying to see if he had something in his eye.”
Sofia smiled. “Very funny. Can I offer you something to drink?”
You? Offer me? Jordan ground her teeth and took a threatening step to tower over the shorter woman. There was occasionally something to be said for being five feet ten inches tall—the intimidation factor, for instance.
Sofia’s quick intake of breath told Jordan her little bullying scheme had hit home. “What do you want with Eddie?”
“What does any woman want with Eddie?” Sofia’s voice was low, throaty, and sexy, which made Jordan even angrier.
“I’m not going to play games with you,” Jordan said.
“Oh, I get it. Eddie hasn’t told you about us.”
“Us? What do you mean us?” Jealous much, Jordan?
“Not so long ago Eddie was my man.” Emphasis placed on my. “But he became too possessive,” Sofia sighed, “and I had to break it off.”
Eddie, possessive? He never seemed possessive to her. Not yet, anyway. She dug her nails into her palms and took a deep breath. “Look, Miss Vercelli. It’s not a good time to mess with Eddie. He’s facing serious charges.”
Stealing the Golden Dream Page 3
