Friends In Spy Places

by Diane Henders

  “No, I didn’t mean I did it,” I said, my stomach churning. “I mean it’s my fault. I think somebody has been trying to get to me through my friends. Everybody knows I eat here all the time and you’re my bookkeeping client. And you said the complaint came in yesterday afternoon, after we talked at lunchtime. Did you notice any strangers in the bar yesterday?”

  “I think you’re reachin’ a bit, darlin’,” Hellhound objected.

  “I think so, too.” Eddy frowned. “Unless… is your ex-husband out of jail yet? He might have a score to settle with me, since I’m the one who called the police when he abducted you. What does he look like? When he’s not in drag, I mean.”

  Shit, I had known that cover story would come back to bite me in the ass sooner or later. Hellhound and I exchanged a glance.

  “He’s got an eye patch and a peg leg,” I said lightly. “You can’t miss him.”

  Eddy gave me a mock glare. “Very funny. Seriously, what does he look like? With that wig and makeup on, all I could tell was that he was about average height and build. He could have been hanging around here and I’d never know.”

  “I’m sorry, Eddy, I didn’t mean to make fun. He’s still in jail,” I lied. “It can’t be him.”

  “Well, I can’t imagine anybody else having a problem with you,” Eddy said. “And even if they did, calling the health department on me is a pretty obscure way to show it.” He patted my hand and rose. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Probably just some small-town politics.” Glancing at the entrance, he smiled. “Maybe I’ll hire CRAPS to look into it.”

  Following the direction of his gaze, I spotted Lola and two of her elderly cronies coming in the door. She gave us a cheery wave and headed for the tables that Darlene had pushed together to form a group of ten.

  “I have to get back to work,” Eddy said. “Thanks for understanding about…” He gestured toward the kitchen, his lips twisting. “…that. Your food and drinks are on the house today.”

  “Eddy, you can’t do that,” I protested. “You’re always giving me free meals. You need to make a living, too.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I do well enough. See you later.”

  He strode away before I could point out that I did his books, so I knew damn well that the bar’s finances were barely in the black.

  Chapter 26

  Lola dumped her tote bag on a vacant chair at the gang of tables before hurrying over to where Hellhound and I sat.

  “Hi, honey,” she greeted me. “And…” Her warm smile flashed and she stuck out her hand to Hellhound. “Hi, I’m Lola. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never been properly introduced.”

  Hellhound rose, making Lola step back a pace as her diminutive stature placed her approximately at eye level with his belly button. “Pleased to meet ya, Miz Lola.” He bent to carefully enclose her tiny hand in his. “I’m Arnie Helmand.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I hadn’t introduced you at Spider and Linda’s wedding,” I apologized. “Arnie’s a very good friend of mine.” I grinned up at him. “And Lola is one of my favourite clients. She runs a sex shop here in town.”

  Hellhound’s eyebrows rose as a smile spread across his face. “Well, hell, darlin’, ya been holdin’ out on me. Sounds like we gotta go shoppin’.”

  Delight lit Lola’s face. “Oh, yes! Come by the shop! We have all kinds of goodies. Something for everyone, no matter whether you’re plain vanilla or spicy salsa.” She gave Hellhound a flirtatious wink. “But something tells me you’re not just plain vanilla.”

  Hellhound’s guffaw boomed out, turning heads across the bar. “Sometimes I am. An’ sometimes…” He bounced his eyebrows, grinning. “I ain’t.”

  Lola’s smile widened as she nudged me with a lascivious elbow. “Ooh, I like him!” She straightened as if struck by an idea. “Hey, why don’t you two join our CRAPS meeting?” She nodded in the direction of their tables. “We’re down a couple of members…” A momentary shadow crossed her face before she regained her usual perky smile. “…and we could use some younger people. We’ve gotten some support lately from some of the other Chamber of Commerce members; but the more the merrier.”

  Worry niggled at me. “You’re down a couple of members? What happened?”

  Lola’s face fell. “Poor Bud Weems has pneumonia again. He just keeps getting it over and over, and each time he gets frailer.” She sighed. “And Pearl slipped and fell on a patch of ice a couple of days ago and broke her ankle.”

  “Oh, no!” I turned to Arnie. “Pearl is ninety-three.”

  “But she’s tough as nails,” Lola countered. “They did surgery yesterday, and she’s already up and hobbling around.” She shook her head. “I keep telling her she should hire somebody to shovel her snow, but she insists on doing it herself. Says nobody else gets the sidewalk clean enough. But it’s been so icy lately, I nearly fell outside the shop a couple of days ago, too.” Her smile came back. “Well, I’d better get back to setting up our meeting. We start in twenty minutes. Will you join us?”

  “Sorry, I can’t,” I said. “I’m booked solid this afternoon.”

  “What about you, Arnie?” Lola turned her smile up to him, doing her very best sweet-little-old-lady imitation despite her purple spiked hair and dominatrix-style stiletto-heeled boots.

  He grinned, clearly not fooled by her act but enjoying her attempt. “Sorry, I got some stuff on this afternoon, too. Maybe next time I’m in town.”

  “Are you staying for long?” she inquired.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” I told Hellhound. “She’s just snooping.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll prob’ly be here for a day or two.”

  “Well, be sure to come by Up & Coming for our Christmas sale!” Lola turned back to me. “See you tomorrow, honey. Bring Arnie along.” She gave me a hug, then smiled up at Hellhound. “It was great to meet you. I need to give you a hug, too.” She put her arms around him, looking like a pixie embracing a giant redwood.

  He stooped, his powerful arms closing carefully around her in return. “Great to meet ya, too, Miz Lola.”

  As she walked away, Hellhound lowered his voice for my ears only. “I like her. Reminds me a bit of Miz Moonbeam. But what the hell is CRAPS?”

  “That’s Lola’s other business: Citizens’ Reconnaissance And Protection Services. She started it last summer when that crazy bridesmaid was trying to sabotage Spider and Linda’s wedding. They’re basically a bunch of geriatric snoops, but I guess there’s enough illicit activity here to give them an occasional bit of excitement. Lost dogs, kids playing hooky from school, that kind of thing. I don’t know if they actually charge for their services, but they have a great time digging for dirt.”

  “Maybe I oughta hire ’em for my P.I. business,” Hellhound joked. “I’m always lookin’ for good sources.”

  When we stepped out of Eddy’s into the ice-glittering wind, I came face to face with Tom. We both pulled up short, and I did an awkward step-right-step-left at the same time he did.

  I laughed. “Sorry. I’ll just stand still and let you go by.”

  “No problem.” Tom gave me a smile. “Maybe Eddy should install a revolving door.” He shot a level look at Hellhound beside me. “Helmand. How’ve you been?” Not exactly a warm greeting, but at least he didn’t sound hostile.

  “Good,” Hellhound said, matching Tom’s noncommittal tone. “You?”

  “Fine. Busy.”

  “I hear ya.”

  They did one of those silent male nods that indicated the conversational niceties were complete, and Tom turned back to me. “I’m glad I ran into you.” He grinned. “Almost literally.” His smile faded as he went on, “I left a message on your machine at home. Somebody shot up the Charolais sign at my front gate this morning.”

  My heart lurched. “This morning? You mean, after you dropped me off? So it was in broad daylight?”

  He nodded. “I was in the barn when I heard the shots around ten this mor
ning, and I figured it was just some overexcited newbie hunter back of the creek. But when I was leaving a few minutes ago, I realized they’d been shooting my sign.” He shrugged. “No big deal, but I reported it to the police in case it was related to that trap. I swung by your place and didn’t see any damage, but I was in a bit of a hurry so you should probably check things when you get home.”

  Hiding a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature, I nodded. “Thanks, I will. And Tom…” I wanted to reach for his hand, but I didn’t dare in case someone was watching. “Be careful, okay?”

  He took my hand and squeezed it, negating my attempt to keep him safe. “You worry too much, Aydan. Signs get shot up all the time in the country.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I might have shot up a sign or two myself when I was young and stupid; but you didn’t hear it from me.” Releasing my hand, he added, “I’m late, so I’d better get going. I hope everything’s okay at your place. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  He went into Eddy’s, and I stood frowning into space until Hellhound hooked a hand around my elbow and tugged me gently away. “Come on, darlin’, no point standin’ here waitin’ to get hit by the door.”

  “Right…” Still deep in thought, I trailed after him to the Forester.

  As we buckled up, Hellhound said, “What was that about a trap at Rossburn’s place?”

  “Somebody left a leghold trap outside his door. And now they’re shooting at his sign. It’s a threat.”

  Arnie frowned. “An’ you’re thinkin’ it’s ’cause a’ you. Like the mouse at Eddy’s.”

  “Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “When Holt was questioning Grandin, Grandin told him ‘They know how to get to Kelly’. I think somebody’s letting me know that they could take out my friends anytime. The trap was welded open and they didn’t take potshots at Tom’s house, so they weren’t actually trying to hurt him; and the mouse at Eddy’s is the same sort of thing. There’s no actual danger, but it’s definitely a message that it could be serious if somebody wanted to take it to the next level.”

  “I dunno,” Hellhound objected. “Like Rossburn said, there’s lotsa dumbfucks out there that think it’s funny to shoot up a sign. An’ a dead mouse an’ a busted trap ain’t much of a threat.”

  “I know; I just…” I made a futile gesture, letting my hand drop back into my lap. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a paranoid freak.” At his humorously cocked eyebrow, I laughed. “Okay, fine, I’m definitely a paranoid freak; but maybe I’m reading too much into this, too.”

  Arnie sobered. “But your gut says ya ain’t.”

  “Yeah. And I trust my gut.”

  “We’ll keep our eyes open, then.” He put the car into gear. “Where to?”

  I affected a posh British accent and waved my fingers in a prissy ‘move along’ gesture. “To the office, my good man.”

  “Thought ya wanted to go to the hospital,” he said as we pulled away.

  “I do, but now that I’ve had some food and my brain’s working again, I’ve realized I need to talk to Reggie before I talk to Ian. I don’t think I’ll be long, but if you want to drop me off at Sirius and do your own thing, that’s fine.”

  “Nah, I wanna see Kane at the hospital, too, so we might as well stick together. I’ll wait for ya at Sirius.”

  When Reggie’s office door swung shut behind me a few minutes later, I asked, “Were you the Weapons Director when Kane killed my second husband with that classified heart-attack drug?”

  Reggie blinked. “Uh… yes…” He gave me a wary look as he lowered himself into his chair.

  “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I’m over it.”

  I realized with mild shock that it was actually true. Mostly, anyway. I would never know whether Robert had truly loved me or only faked it convincingly; and my memories of our time together were so tainted by the ugly baggage from my first marriage that I still hadn’t unravelled whether Robert had treated me well or fucked me up more. Maybe I’d never know that, either…

  “Kelly?” Reggie inquired worriedly.

  “Um. Sorry. I zoned out for a second there. I’m really tired.” I flopped into the chair across from him. “So John said he got the drug from the Weapons lab. As the director, did you give it to him personally?”

  “Yes. And I had an observer as per regs.” Reggie still looked cautious.

  “What’s your protocol for that?” I asked.

  “I get a requisition signed by the Director of Clandestine Ops and at least one other person higher than the DCO in the chain of command. While I’m issuing the dose to the agent I’m observed by one other staff member who’s selected by random lottery; and the agent had damn well better have a dead body to show for each issued dose or there’s an investigation that makes a body-cavity search look tame.”

  “Hm.” I frowned into space, mentally flipping through the data I’d stolen from MI5. “So there’s theoretically no way a dose could ever go missing?”

  “No. Our stock has always been accounted for. I’ve only issued two doses the whole time I’ve been Director, and both times there was a kill right on schedule…” His gaze wavered. “Sorry.”

  Waving off his discomfort, I said, “It’s okay. So what happens when the drug expires?”

  “It doesn’t really expire. The old doses would probably be fine for at least five years, but we replace them every year just to be on the safe side. The disposal process-”

  I jerked forward in my chair, pulse pounding. “Wait, it’s good for five years?”

  “Yeah, probably a lot more. That’s what the initial tests indicated, anyway.” Reggie frowned. “Is that significant?”

  “Oh, shit, yes,” I whispered, my throat suddenly dry. “Yes, it is.”

  Chapter 27

  “Talk to me,” Reggie demanded.

  “I, um… I can’t,” I mumbled. “Sorry. So how are the new doses made and stored?”

  Reggie leaned back, frowning. “Are you conducting an internal investigation?”

  “No…” Belatedly, I peeked into my waist pouch and activated my bug detector. We both relaxed when it flashed green, and I lowered my voice. “I’m not investigating our Department.”

  His gaze sharpened. “So one of our allies is getting careless.”

  “Maybe. Walk me through the whole process, from making the drug to storing it to disposing of the old doses.”

  “Okay…” He took a swig from the water bottle on his desk. “There’s a huge paper trail to make new doses. Once everything’s all signed and sealed, one of the chemists and another staff member get picked by random lottery. The observer checks the raw materials to be sure the chemist isn’t making more than the required number of doses, and the whole process is recorded on video from multiple angles.”

  “What’s the required number of doses?” I asked.

  “Unless we’re told otherwise, two per year. When they’re finished, they get locked away and the chemist and observer sign off the chain-of-custody documents.”

  “And do all our allies do it that way, too?”

  “They’re supposed to.”

  “How do you get rid of the old doses?” I asked.

  “That’s another process of paperwork and random draws. Then the whole vial is incinerated without ever being opened, with observers and video recording from all angles.” He eyed me with interest. “Why? Did a dose go missing? Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

  I hesitated.

  Hell, I trusted Reggie. And as long as he didn’t know how I’d gotten the information in the first place, I wouldn’t be revealing anything above his security clearance.

  “An agent was issued a dose, he used it, and it didn’t work,” I said. “And a few months later, somebody totally unrelated died of a sudden heart attack.”

  “So you think somebody stole a dose and replaced it with a fake.” He frowned. “This is part of your invest
igation of Nora, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Ian thinks she might have stolen the drug and killed her predecessor.”

  Reggie bolted upright in his chair. “What? Howie’s dead? When? How? I thought he’d retired!”

  I grimaced. “He retired permanently, of an unexplained heart attack in September. There’s no evidence, but Ian says he suspects Nora killed him with a stolen dose of the drug.”

  Reggie fell back in his chair. “That bitch,” he muttered. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “You never heard what I’m about to tell you. Their paperwork was done just like you described, and there was no record of a dose ever going missing, but a dose failed. Their Weapons department investigated and said it must have lost its effectiveness because it was near its one-year expiry date.”

  “Bullshit,” Reggie said flatly. “Even if the dose had lost fifty percent of its potency it’d still be more than enough to kill; and the development research showed ninety-three percent potency at the five-year mark. I bet the agent pretended to give the drug to the subject but pocketed it instead, and then handed it over to Nora so she could kill Howie and cover the whole thing up. Who was the agent?”

  My stomach plummeted. “Um… Ian.” My voice came out very small.

  “That fucking crooked bastard,” Reggie snapped.

  “But they investigated him up, down, and sideways, just like you said,” I argued. “And Ian’s not stupid enough to set himself up for a massive investigation. If he was going to steal a dose, he’d just quietly kill his guy and pretend the drug had worked. Since the drug is undetectable in an autopsy, nobody would ever know he hadn’t administered it.” I straightened. “And anyway, he was out of the country when he used the drug in June, and he hadn’t gotten back yet when Coleman died in September. So he wouldn’t have had a chance to give the drug to Nora.”