Death Perception

by Victoria Laurie

  Chapter Five

  The bank branch shut down foLaurie, Victoria -[Psychic Eye-6]- Death perceptionr the rest of the morning while a team of police descended on the building. Dutch and Bob talked privately in the corner and I knew it wasn’t good. A few minutes later, Dutch walked briskly over to me and Laney and said, ‘‘We’ve got to go.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ I asked. ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Come on, Abby,’’ he said, and escorted us out of the building. After piling into the car, I turned to face him and opened my mouth, but he cut me off. ‘‘Please don’t ask.’’

  I fell silent and we drove back to Laney’s. ‘‘What aren’t you telling me?’’ she asked him from the backseat as the car rolled to a stop.

  Dutch turned in his seat and said, ‘‘I promise, I am doing everything I can to bring Chase back to you,’’ he said. ‘‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear something. But Abby and I have to go. There’s something we need to do, and I don’t have time to explain.’’

  Laney blinked at him for a moment or two, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced and the sag in her shoulders suggesting that she was on the verge of exhaustion. ‘‘Fine,’’ she said. ‘‘I won’t ask. Just please bring my husband back, Dutch.’’

  ‘‘You have my solemn vow.’’

  After she’d stepped out of the car and was heading up the steps of her house, I said, ‘‘She looks bad. Should I stay with her?’’

  ‘‘I wish I could loan you out,’’ Dutch said as he put the car in reverse and sped down the street. ‘‘But I’m going to need that lie detector and I don’t have any time to spare.’’

  ‘‘Why are we in such a hurry?’’

  Dutch didn’t answer me right away and just when I figured he wasn’t going to at all, he said, ‘‘I think by the looks of that photograph from the bank that Chase was forced to give away the only thing that could have kept him alive.’’

  ‘‘His money,’’ I said, putting it all together. ‘‘Now that they’ve picked him clean, the kidnappers will think he’s expendable.’’

  Dutch nodded and said nothing further as he broke every speed limit between Laney’s house and the Delgado mansion. When he got to the call box on the other side of the gates, he seemed to relax a little as he looked into the driveway.

  Rosa let us in again and we parked next to a Volvo with a police tag. ‘‘Colby’s still here,’’ he said as we got out.

  We walked to the door, where Rosa greeted us warmly. ‘‘Buenos días,’’ she said. ‘‘Senora Delgado is in the sitting room again.’’

  We followed Rosa to the large room and found the missus sitting in the same seat, but today a woman in a pink coat and white pants sat in front of her with a manicure table and was busy filing the dragon’s claws.

  ‘‘Good morning,’’ Dutch greeted her, charm and a bright smile forcing themselves onto his face.

  Delgado cocked one eyebrow, but didn’t look up. ‘‘What do you want?’’

  ‘‘Can I bring you some coffee and breakfast rolls?’’ Rosa asked us. I nodded while my stomach grumbled, but Dutch shook his head no. ‘‘Okay,’’ she said. ‘‘I bring one for you.’’ And off she went.

  ‘‘Mrs. Delgado, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I could?’’

  The dragon sighed. ‘‘I’m tired of questions, Detective.’’

  I hid a smile because Dutch had never introduced himself as a detective. Delgado was only assuming he was one of the men from the local PD working the case.

  ‘‘I can imagine,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And I’m sure we’ve all been asking you the same questions over and over, but there was another man who was abducted with your husband, Mrs. Delgado, and we have reason to believe his life is in the most jeopardy.’’

  Delgado glanced at Dutch. ‘‘More than Ricardo’s?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Much more,’’ he said. ‘‘Your husband’s bodyguard was taken in the kidnapping. He has a wife and baby at home, and he’s a good man, ma’am. I know him personally.’’

  ‘‘He’s not very good at his job,’’ she said rudely, turning her attention back to her manicure. ‘‘That’s too square!’’ she snapped. The manicurist jumped, nodded, and hurried to correct the nail.

  ‘‘Mrs. Delgado, I know you don’t seem to care what happens to your husband, but what about the father of your children?’’

  ‘‘Why is it so important to you, Detective, that I give a damn about anyone?’’

  ‘‘Because we’re running out of time,’’ Dutch said earnestly. ‘‘The man who was guarding your husband has very, very little time.’’

  ‘‘I’ve told you everything I know,’’ she said. ‘‘If I knew who took Ricardo, I’d tell you.’’ My lie detector went off and I glared hard at her. She caught the look, and for the first time, I saw her back down a little. ‘‘Fine, what do you want to know, Detective?’’

  ‘‘Do you think your son had anything to do with your husband’s abduction?’’

  ‘‘Doubtful,’’ she said. ‘‘Ricky’s worshipped the ground his father walks on since he was five. He’s even taken Ricardo’s side in our separation.’’

  ‘‘So there is no motive you can think of that would have your son turn on his father?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ Mrs. Delgado said. Again my lie detector went off.

  ‘‘Really?’’ I said doubtfully, giving the dragon lady the deepest glare I could muster.

  Again Delgado seemed to check herself under my hard stare. She scowled at me and said, ‘‘Ever since Ricky met that bimbo my husband likes to slum around town with, he’s been under some sort of spell. He hasn’t been able to get her out of his head, and worse, the two seem to share a great love of white powder.’’

  ‘‘Did your husband know about Ricky’s involvement with Bambina?’’ Dutch asked.

  ‘‘I’m sure he did,’’ the dragon said easily. ‘‘There’s little that Ricardo isn’t aware of.’’

  ‘‘Why didn’t he put a stop to it?’’

  ‘‘I believe he tried,’’ she said wearily. ‘‘I heard that Ricardo intended to put her into one of those fancy rehab facilities in Santa Fe and wash his hands of her, but he had to wait for an opening, which was weeks away.’’

  ‘‘So,’’ Dutch said, trying to follow her logic, ‘‘you believe that Ricky learned that his father intended to ship Bambina off to rehab, and he might have teamed up with her to get the old man out of the way?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ she said coolly, blowing on the wet polish of her right hand. ‘‘I don’t believe that, but you did ask if there was anything that could turn my son against his father, and the only thing that’s ever come between those two was that poor excuse of a prostitute.’’

  At that moment Rosa came back in with a small tray loaded with freshly brewed coffee and a huge syrupy breakfast roll.

  ‘‘When was the last time you saw your husband, ma’am?’’ Dutch continued.

  ‘‘It’s been six weeks since I threw him out,’’ she said.

  Dutch pushed a little harder. ‘‘And you haven’t seen him or heard from him since that time?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Again my lie detector went haywire, and I caught the questioning look that Rosa cast at her employer. ‘‘That will be all, Rosa,’’ Delgado growled as her housekeeper stood there dumbly after setting down the tray.

  Rosa hurried away. I nudged Dutch and he grunted uncomfortably, then said, ‘‘Did your husband ever share the details of his business practices with you?’’

  ‘‘What are you getting at?’’

  ‘‘Well, every successful businessman develops a few enemies along the way. I’m wondering if Mr. Delgado ever told you about anyone who might be an enemy or a threat to him. Maybe someone who was willing to go to the extreme such as kidnapping to extract a fortune and get him out of the way?’’

  ‘‘My husband had plenty of enemies,’’ she said vaguely. ‘‘Most recently his former business partner wasn’t too h
appy with him.’’

  ‘‘Why is that?’’ Dutch asked.

  ‘‘He caught my husband fucking his wife.’’

  My eyes widened and I needed a distraction, so I picked up the plate with the roll and took a nibble. It was incredibly good. ‘‘I see,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘What is this man’s name?’’

  ‘‘Donovan Kelton.’’

  ‘‘Anyone else?’’

  ‘‘I’ll make up a list after my nails are dry. You can pick it up this evening,’’ she said with a sigh.

  Dutch put his hand on his phone as it vibrated, and pulled it up to look at the display. Clicking it back onto his belt, he said, ‘‘Thank you, ma’am. I’d appreciate it. We’ll leave you to your manicure.’’

  Pulling me by the elbow, he whispered, ‘‘We’ve got to go.’’

  I quickly shoved the rest of the roll into my mouth, and Dutch gave me a sober look. ‘‘What?’’ I said through a mouthful of gooey dough. ‘‘It’s good!’’

  ‘‘Come on, Edgar,’’ he said, pulling me along. ‘‘Time’s a-wasting.’’

  We rounded the corner and bumped into the detective on guard, Colby, who was just coming out of the bathroom carrying a newspaper. ‘‘Oh!’’ he said when he saw us. ‘‘I didn’t realize you were here. Is Bob here too?’’

  ‘‘No, but he should be along shortly. No word yet from the kidnappers about further instructions?’’

  ‘‘Nope, not a word. This is one dull assignment,’’ he grumbled.

  ‘‘Well, hang in there,’’ Dutch said, not wanting to linger and make small talk. ‘‘We’re running late, so we’ll talk to you later.’’

  As we bustled toward the front door, I noticed Rosa off in one of the other rooms dusting the furniture. I grabbed Dutch’s hand and yanked him to a halt. ‘‘Wait!’’ I hissed. ‘‘We need to talk to her.’’

  Dutch glanced at his watch. ‘‘Can’t. We’ve got to go.’’ My radar insisted otherwise. ‘‘Dutch,’’ I said, digging my heels in and refusing to budge. ‘‘Trust me, we need to ask her something.’’

  Dutch’s mouth pressed to a thin line. ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘Come with me,’’ I said, and hurried over to Rosa.

  When she saw us coming, she stopped dusting and asked, ‘‘Did you like the roll and coffee?’’

  I smiled. ‘‘That has to be the best pastry I’ve ever had, Rosa, thank you.’’

  The sweet maid actually blushed. ‘‘Is nothing,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Listen, I just have a quick question for you, and it’s really important that you answer it truthfully, okay?’’

  Rosa seemed to tense. ‘‘Yes?’’

  ‘‘When was the last time Mrs. Delgado saw Mr. Delgado?’’

  Rosa fidgeted with the little Swiffer duster in her hands. ‘‘It’s been six weeks or so, like the lady said,’’ she said.

  My lie detector gonged in my head. ‘‘I’m sorry, Rosa, but I don’t believe you. We’re trying to bring Mr. Delgado home, and if there is anything that you know that might be important, we really need to know about it, okay?’’

  Rosa looked nervously into the hallway behind us. Then she leaned in and whispered, ‘‘I could lose my job!’’

  ‘‘Trust me,’’ I said. ‘‘No one will know the information came from you.’’

  Rosa hesitated for a moment, before she shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘‘They have been seeing each other, in secret.’’

  ‘‘Who?’’ Dutch asked.

  ‘‘The mister and missus. He has been coming over at night and leaving in the morning.’’

  ‘‘For how long?’’

  ‘‘For a little while, like, two weeks or so. They are always back and forth like a tennis ball, those two. One week they in love, the next they not so much in love anymore. Then, just when I think it working out with them, they have a terrible argument.’’

  ‘‘Over what?’’

  ‘‘The lady want him to sign agreement that say if he cheat again, she get everything.’’

  ‘‘A postnup,’’ I said thoughtfully. ‘‘I’m assuming he didn’t go for that?’’

  ‘‘No, not so much,’’ Rosa said. ‘‘Anyway, he left in the middle of the night and the next morning the lady say she had enough and she file for divorce.’’

  ‘‘When exactly was this argument?’’

  ‘‘Monday night,’’ she said.

  My boyfriend glanced again at his watch. ‘‘Abs, we have to go. Now.’’

  ‘‘Thank you so much, Rosa, we really appreciate it,’’ I said, and we boogied out the door.

  Dutch hurried to the car and I jumped in after him. Without waiting for me to buckle up, he turned the ignition and drove to the gate, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as we waited for it to open. The moment there was room for the car to fit through, he pressed on the gas. My radar whispered something in my mind and I yelled, ‘‘Go left!’’ as he was about to turn right.

  Without questioning me, he did as I’d instructed and we zipped down the street. As we got to the end of the street, I looked in the side mirror and noticed a string of black sedans all with tinted glass pull up to the Delgado house and roll through the already-open gates. ‘‘FBI,’’ I said, identifying the three cars followed by Bob’s minivan. Turning to Dutch, I said, ‘‘Why exactly are you working so hard to avoid your own agency?’’

  ‘‘It’s complicated,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Spill it,’’ I insisted.

  Dutch ran a hand through his hair. ‘‘I can’t, babe.’’ When I made a sound that said he was full of shit, he said, ‘‘I mean it. I really can’t.’’

  ‘‘How am I supposed to help you if you won’t clue me in?’’

  Dutch was quiet for a long time before he finally said, ‘‘This case is a lot more complex than anyone realizes. If I told you everything I knew, I could be putting you in significant danger.’’ And then he seemed to grow frustratedwith himself and he added, ‘‘Hell, I already have put you in danger.’’

  Pulling over to the side of the road, he stopped the car and turned to me, his eyes intense and tone serious. ‘‘Listen to me carefully, okay?’’

  ‘‘I’m listening,’’ I said.

  ‘‘If anything happens to me, I want you to get the hell out of here immediately. I mean, you don’t wait around for anything—you just get out of Dodge and you fly to your sister’s house in Boston and lay low.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ I said. ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘I can’t tell you. Just promise me you’ll do as I say and catch the first plane out.’’

  ‘‘Are you kidding me with this shit?’’ I snapped. ‘‘What the hell are you caught up in, Dutch?’’

  He didn’t answer me. Instead he turned back to the wheel and put the car in drive again. ‘‘Promise me,’’ he said after a moment.

  ‘‘No.’’ My middle name is Stubborn.

  ‘‘Abby, I am not kidding around here. You either promise me or I put you on a damn plane home today!’’

  I glared at him. ‘‘You and what army?’’

  ‘‘I don’t need an army,’’ he said. ‘‘I have connections which I will use to keep you safe.’’

  I threw up my hands and said, ‘‘Fine! I promise you, okay? But it’s ridiculous!’’

  Dutch seemed to relax. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he said, rubbing his side. ‘‘And by the way, the next time you need to get my attention, try kicking me in the shin or something. Your elbow is so bony I think you cracked a rib.’’

  Dutch was always good at relieving tension. ‘‘Don’t let anything happen to you,’’ I said to him. ‘‘I don’t want to deliver on that promise, you hear me?’’

  ‘‘I hear ya,’’ he said, and slid his hand into mine. ‘‘I hear ya.’’

  We drove back to the hotel and I ordered us some lunch. I wolfed down my burger, but Dutch passed on everything but a few crackers. He’d begun to look pale and drawn again, so I insisted that he go to bed and take a n
ap. To my surprise he didn’t put up a fight and took me up on my suggestion.

  Not in the mood for a nap myself, I decided to explore the hotel, so I left Dutch a note in case he woke up, and slipped out the door. When I got down to ground level, I started by touring the casino, which was dark and smoky and filled with sounds like thousands of pinball machines dinging and pinging all around.

  I didn’t care for the energy of the place—too many people and too much cigarette smoke—so I ventured instead near the lobby and the shops. At first I was a little intimidated by all the designer labels, but after a while I ventured into Dolce & Gabbana and Louis Vuitton and of course my favorite, Jimmy Choo. I was like a kid at the petting zoo, stroking the luxurious fabrics, cuddling with the fine leather purses, and cooing to the shoes. ‘‘Want to come home with me?’’ I asked one pair of beautiful snakeskin sandals. Their $450 price tag begged to differ, however, and I left them to find another home.

  I meandered up and down the little mall area, window-shopping and people watching and in a haze of dreamy delirium caused by so many fantasies of what I would buy if I were really rich, when my radar gave a buzz. I glanced at my watch and noticed I’d been walking around for several hours. ‘‘Wow, time really does fly here,’’ I said. I pulled out my cell phone and sent Dutch a text message that told him I was on my way back to the room.

  I got lost a couple of times trying to find the elevator, but I finally made my way back and rode up to our floor. My radar had kicked into full gear now, and I was anxious to check on Dutch, thinking that perhaps his fever was spiking again and it was now time to insist on a visit to the doctor.

  When I got to the room, I fished around for my key card and found it at the bottom of my purse. Opening the door, I was surprised at how dark the room was. ‘‘Dutch?’’ I said softly. No one answered.

  I moved into the room and closed the door quietly. If Dutch was asleep, I didn’t want to wake him. Moving to the bedroom, I glanced in and found the bed empty. My head darted to the bathroom door, but it was open and the light was off.

  I walked around the suite just to be sure, but Dutch wasn’t here, and then I noticed a note on the table where I’d left my own note a few hours before. I picked it up and saw that Dutch had written on the back of my note. It said: