Deadly Intersections (21 page)

After their horrible lunch she’d spent the afternoon thinking of Ari, her mistake with Lola and a way to make it right. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day—a perfect opportunity—but she was lost.

The store was filled with people like her who had procrastinated for the past month and now faced their lover’s wrath if they missed the big day. She automatically flipped open her phone and hit her brother’s speed dial number. If anyone knew anything about romance it was Brian.

“I guess Lynn owes me a foot massage,” he said in place of a greeting. Lynn was Brian’s long-time girlfriend.

“Why?”

“Because I bet her that you would call me before Valentine’s Day, asking for my advice.”

“She gives me way too much credit,” she said. “I guess I should thank you for keeping my phobias and anxieties a secret.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where are you? Jewelry or card store?”

She groaned. “Card store. It’s like the Good Ship Lollypop exploded everywhere. I can’t deal with all this sugary sweet sentiment.”

Brian laughed heartily. “Get used to it, sis. That’s what women like, at least every woman except you.”

“I’ll never understand.”

“Well, either date another butch or learn.”

She sighed. “Okay, love guru, tell me what to do.”

“It’s simple. Find a romantic card with a nice message. Don’t get one that goes on forever and whatever you do, don’t get a funny card. At this stage in your relationship Ari would probably doubt your sincerity if a ridiculous cartoon character recited a trite limerick to her.”

“What about a gift?”

“You’ll need to go somewhere else. Stuffed bears and chocolates are for amateurs. You bought her a necklace for her birthday so a bracelet would be a good choice for Valentine’s Day.”

“Like in the shape of the heart?”

He chuckled, obviously pleased. “You’re catching on, grasshopper. Gotta go claim my foot rub,” he added before signing off.

She scanned the sparse rows of picked over cards. She spied one that met her brother’s specifications. Just as she reached for it, an oblivious twiggy woman chatting on her cell phone plucked it from the stand and walked away.

She resisted the urge to shoot her and continued to search. They all seemed redundant in words and tone, and she couldn’t decide. She grabbed a linen card with gold script and suddenly felt as though she was being watched. She whirled around, and a flash of blue stepped into another aisle. 

Someone’s following me
. The card still in her hand, she maneuvered into the next aisle but the blue jacket was gone. She paid for the card and headed back into the mall and a Macy’s. All she wanted was a scotch—her motivation for quick decisiveness as she purchased a simple gold bracelet in record time.

“Done,” she said to herself, climbing back into her truck. As she drove toward the mall exit she glanced in her rearview mirror just as a figure in a blue jacket and baseball cap darted into the parking lot.

Wertz pulled the Ford roadster up to the immense wrought iron gate that lined the Glick property. He pressed the intercom as Ari listened to the whir of the closed circuit television camera turn toward the car. The lens stared at them for several seconds before the gate slowly rolled open. The old car rumbled up the side of the hill, following a gravel path through the dense foliage around the property. The road ended in front of a four-car garage that sat underneath a house supported by strong metal stilts holding it in the air for a better view of the valley.

She’d debated canceling the appointment, firing her client and sharing her suspicions with Lorraine. She’d thought about involving Molly, but purchasing a flask meant he was guilty of nothing except perhaps private drinking. He didn’t notice her uneasiness, his mind focused on acquiring the Glick house.

She gazed up at the structure, an intricate balance of steel and wood that seemed to blend naturally into the mountain. They stepped onto a long porch and she realized she was dangling over a ravine that separated the house from the main entryway. Glass windows afforded them a view into an amazing living area. She couldn’t wait to see the inside of the house. They were greeted by Jacob Glick himself when they rang the bell.

“Good evening,” he said. “Please come in.”

He led them into the living room, and she heard the gentle sound of rain. She looked over her shoulder and saw the source—sparkling blue water poured in from beneath a glass wall and cascaded down several steps before emptying into a pond filled with exotic fish. The entire scene was serene. Glick motioned to the couch. Ari deliberately chose a chair where she could study the falling water.

“Now, please explain to me the purpose of your visit.”

She looked at Wertz, expecting him to take the lead, but he raised his eyebrows at her. She was the real estate agent, and if she wanted a commission, she’d have to do the dirty work.

She smiled pleasantly at Glick. “We appreciate you taking the time to see us, especially on such short notice.”

He nodded and returned the smile. “You’re welcome.”

“We’re here because Mr. Wertz saw your home and instantly fell in love with it.”

“I see. I hope you’re not here to make a sales pitch since I have no interest in selling Serendipity. This place belonged to my brother, and it’s the only memory of him that I have. While I could certainly make a fortune on its sale I just couldn’t leave.”

“Sentiment aside,” Wertz interjected, “I don’t understand why you’d keep a place that’s driving you deep into debt.”

Ari shot him a glance, and Glick turned bright red. Obviously Wertz knew something she didn’t.

“My financial affairs are none of your concern,” Glick said evenly.

Wertz smiled smugly. “Oh, but they will be soon. Let’s get down to it. You don’t own the building that houses your little company, do you, Mr. Glick?”

He shifted in his seat and frowned. “No, we’ve been trying to buy it. I’m sure we’ll be successful—eventually.”

“Ah, but you see I already was.”

Wertz removed a folder from his briefcase and held out a copy of what Ari assumed was a contract. “This contract indicates that I am now your landlord.” He shook his head woefully while Glick read the document. “I just don’t think I can let you stay when your lease expires in two months. I’m sure we could work something out and under certain circumstances, I’d be happy to sell the property to you at quite a bargain.”

Glick studied the contract, his anger visible. When he glared at Wertz it was with a fury that made Ari shiver.

“How in the hell did you do this? I’ve been wrangling with the owners for over a year!”

Wertz shrugged slightly. “I’m a good businessman, and I made them an offer that was too good to pass up. I guess you didn’t do that.”

Glick crumpled the contract and stared at the floor. “I’m sure you know it would be impossible for me to find a place to house my business, not to mention the difficulty of moving all of the equipment.”

“Hmm. Those would be two of the hurdles you’d obviously face,” Wertz agreed. “There are definitely pitfalls to owning a dry cleaners. All those nasty federal regulations, too. This is quite the dilemma.”

“You’re a diabolical bastard, forcing me to choose between my home and my business!” Glick shouted.

Wertz feigned shock. “I’m doing no such thing. I’m merely offering you a way around your financial woes. I’d think you’d be grateful.”

Glick jumped to his feet and yelled, “Get the hell out of my house! Right now!”

Ari was moving before he’d punctuated his sentence, but Wertz strolled behind casually glancing at the walls, imagining where he’d hang his artwork.

“Would you like to tell me what just happened?” she asked once he’d joined her in the car.

He twisted his head in her direction, his publicity face perfectly restored. “Ari, darling, life is full of choices. We’ll give Mr. Glick some time to really think about my generous offer. And now I believe you owe me a dinner. I know I said you could pick, but I do know a wonderful place. Why don’t you let me show you?”

She felt sick to her stomach. “Not tonight, Stan. Please take me back to my car.”

They meandered down the driveway toward the lights of the city. She craned her head around to get one final look at Serendipity. Jacob Glick stood in front of an enormous picture window with his arms folded, watching them descend the mountain.

They said nothing on their way back into Phoenix, but Wertz whistled most of the way. It was clear to her that he was capable of blackmail—but could he kill a man to get what he wanted?

His cell phone rang, and he greeted Candy. His expression shifted and he frowned. When he hung up, he didn’t whistle again. He was clearly upset, and she was relieved he didn’t want to talk.

Yet as he returned to the Day Arbor neighborhood and pulled up to her SUV, the nearby streetlight illuminated his pleasant expression.
Maybe he’s bipolar
.

“Please come by my house around ten tomorrow. I believe we can finish our business then. I’m certain Mr. Glick will be ready to sell. And although I’ve done most of the dirty work, I’m still willing to pay you a commission.”

She knew he expected her to be grateful and say thank you, but as she turned away he roared into the driveway. She didn’t care and couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

The phone awoke Molly from her drunken stupor. She glanced at the clock. It was Andre or Ari. No one else would call this early.

“Nelson.”

“We got a lead on Selena Diaz. They’re out in Gila Bend staying with a friend.”

“How do you know?” she said, reaching for the aspirin.

“Came in through the front desk early this morning. I just got here when Brewster waved me over. Somebody dropped the tip on his desk while he was in the can. It gave an address and mentioned the name Diaz, written in a woman’s handwriting. That’s all anybody knows.”

“That’s really fishy, Andre. It could be a wild goose chase.”

“I don’t think so. Whoever left that note wanted to make sure Brewster found it. I’d say it’s somebody with inside information, and we should check it out.”

She closed her eyes, certain that he was right and wishing she’d skipped her evening at Hideaway.

“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty.”

They spent the fifty-mile drive to Gila Bend discussing the 6815 address and the mole. Andre had cruised past both of the possible addresses the day before but noticed nothing suspicious.

“They all looked alike,” he said. “They’re those typical suburban stuccos with red-tile roofs.”

“Just like my parents’ place,” Molly added, thinking of the cookie-cutter community she visited twice a month for dinner.

“I didn’t see anything unusual, and the neighborhoods are decent. Lots of Toyotas and trucks in the driveways.”

Molly sighed, wondering if it was a dead end. Andre must have sensed her frustration as he reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

They said little else as they motored down the highway passing the Lewis Prison. Gila Bend was the halfway point between Phoenix and Yuma and often a stopping point for tourists and travelers on their way to San Diego.

Andre slowed to thirty-five as the highway suddenly became the main drag of the town. Just past the McDonald’s they turned into a residential area and searched for the house. The neighborhood reminded her of South Phoenix. She realized how easy it would be for the Diaz family to blend in with the migrant workers that populated the town.

“I’m wondering if Hector Cervantes didn’t do a little detective work for us,” Andre said absently.

Finding the house proved difficult since none of them had visible numbers. “How the hell does the mailman deal with this?” she muttered.

“He’s probably been on the job for thirty years,” he replied.

They pulled up in front of a run-down ranch house on a corner lot. Three cars were parked in the driveway, including a pickup like the one owned by Jose Diaz. A man emerged from the side of the house wearing a dark hoodie. Andre quickly pulled up behind the truck, startling the man.

“Jose Diaz?” Andre shouted.

“Who wants to know?”

She noticed the man’s right hand went to his jacket, and she was sure his fingers were wrapped around the butt of a gun.

Andre held his revolver at the man’s chest. “Police. I suggest you slowly put your hands in the air.”

Jose Diaz did as he was told. Andre searched him and withdrew a Beretta from his jeans.

“What do you want?” Diaz asked. “I didn’t do anything. That gun is just for protection. It’s registered.”

Andre stepped away with the gun. “Give it a rest, Jose. We just need to talk to Selena.”

Panic turned to confusion. “Selena? Why?”

Molly stepped forward and joined her partner. “Mr. Diaz, my name is Detective Nelson and this is Detective Williams. Your daughter may have witnessed something that’s important to our investigation. We need to interview her now. She’s not in any trouble.”