Finding Sarah (8 page)

Randy enjoyed the quick hit of
adrenaline. “Can you give me anything more?”

She shrugged. “Not much. Tall,
blond, killer blue eyes. I met him skiing. He was an instructor at Timberline.”

And probably did a lot of après
ski tutoring, too. “You have an address or phone number?”

“No. He moved around a lot. But
he came into town from time to time during the off-season. We had … drinks.”

“Thanks.” This might eliminate twenty-six
of the twenty-seven Brandts he’d found in the Marion County databases and save
a lot of legwork. “What about Consolidated? Do you know anyone who works there?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not that
I’m aware of. I don’t usually discuss work with people. And most of them are
from around here, not out in the sticks like Pine Hills. Unless you mean Owen,
of course.”

“Owen? Your ex-husband?”

“The one and only. He sits on the
board of Consolidated.” She snorted. “He sits. That’s what they call it and
that’s about all he does for them, it seems.”

Randy jotted a note. Somehow his
search into Owen Scofield hadn’t discovered that one. “Would he have any reason
to want to put your sister-in-law out of business? Maybe see her as
competition?”

“Not that little shop. Trust me,
Sarah’s idea of art is nothing like what Owen exhibits. Besides, if he wanted
it, he’d find a way to walk in and take it over. He never was one for
subterfuge. Does what he wants when he wants with whoever he wants.”

Randy ignored the bitterness he
heard in her tone. He figured Diana had probably given her husband his share of
headaches.

“Where might I find him?” It
looked like Diana wasn’t going to be his last stop after all.

She gave him a wicked grin. “Oh,
are you going to talk to him, too? That’ll be rich. It’s Friday—he’s probably
at the gallery getting ready for their new show. Some avant-garde photography
exhibition, I think.”

He read off the names of
companies from Sarah’s problem files. “Any of these ring a bell?”

“Only one—Kavelli. They make
excellent crystal. I’ve got a few pieces. Sarah sells it. I get a discount.”

Randy felt the beginnings of a
headache at the base of his skull. He drained the water and handed Diana the
empty glass. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch if I have any more
questions.”

“I’m glad to do whatever you
need. Are you sure I can’t do anything else for you?”

She actually batted her
eyelashes.

As he drove, Randy chewed the
facts. Sarah had been robbed. Not by Chris. Not by Diana. Not by Owen Scofield,
although after spending twenty minutes with the man, Randy sure as hell wished
he could have dragged his royal pompousness down to the station for
questioning. No, Sarah had been robbed by Gracious Gertie, either of her own
accord or at someone’s coercion.

Then, someone broke into Sarah’s
apartment but didn’t take anything. He’d better find a lead to Gertie, or the
chief would have his butt in a sling for wasting time on a non-case. Was Diana’s
ski-instructor Brandt the guy he needed? What could a ski bum have to do with a
Pine Hills gift shop? One step at a time, he reminded himself. Collect the
data, then see how it fits.

Randy stepped on the accelerator,
but the late afternoon traffic wasn’t going to let him cover the distance back
to Pine Hills fast enough to suit him. He tried to convince himself he needed
Sarah to identify the silver he’d found at Pandora’s but gave up. She could do
that tomorrow. He just wanted to see her.

Something about Sarah was making
this case personal and he dug for professional detachment. Shit. His mind had
wandered again and he slammed on the brakes at the glow of red taillights ahead
of him, narrowly avoiding rear-ending a Toyota. Five-thirty already. Had Sarah
left? He hadn’t confirmed their appointment.

He reached for his cell phone and
punched in Sarah’s work number. Three rings. Four.

“Pick up, Sarah. You’ve got to be
there,” he said, as if speaking the words aloud would make it happen. When the
machine answered, Randy waited out the recorded message, his hand squeezing the
phone until the beep gave him his cue.

“Sarah, it’s Randy. I guess I
missed you.”

A click, then Sarah’s voice. “I’m
here.”

His grip on the phone eased. “I’m
glad I caught you.”

“I’ve been doing busywork.”

“I’m still about half an hour
away. Do you want to wait there, or shall I come by your apartment later?”

There was silence on the other
end of the phone. He’d probably scared her again.
Professional distance,
keep it impersonal.
“If you want to wait until tomorrow, I understand,” he
added.

“No, tonight will work. But I’d
like to take care of my data entry before I get too tired. Maybe we could meet
a bit later? After dinner? Unless something comes up on your end and you need
to postpone.”

For someone with a transparent
face, Sarah had an awfully opaque voice. Damn women anyway. “Tell you what. I’ll
drop by your place around seven-thirty. If you prefer, we can go back to the
station and talk there.”

Sarah agreed and Randy held the
phone for a while before disconnecting. Unless something comes up, she’d said.
If she knew what came up every time he thought of her. He exhaled and watched
the road stretch out in front of him.

Randy picked up some takeout
chicken, eating most of it in the truck. Once he got home, he showered, shaved
and set food out for Starsky and Hutch. They gave him disapproving looks when
he picked up his keys to go out again.

“Sorry, guys. Duty calls. That’s
what happens when you live with a cop, remember?” He gave them each one more
quick scratch behind the ears and started for the door. In true feline fashion,
they turned their attention back to their dinner.

Randy pulled into a slot in the
parking lot behind the Municipal Building and took the stairs at a run. The
light was on in Preston Laughlin’s office and his door was open. Randy glanced
in as he passed, and the chief looked up from behind his desk. “Detweiler. Glad
I caught you. Come in for a minute.”

“Sure, Chief. What’s up?” Randy
glanced at his watch, then at his superior. A slight man, but deceptively
powerful, as Randy had discovered to his embarrassment during a hand-to-hand
workout at the gym several years before. He’d sported bruises for a week.
Laughlin always dressed as if a television crew might need his statement—dark business
suit, tie neatly knotted, its matching silk square peeking out from his breast
pocket. Underneath the façade, however, was an experienced street cop.

“Sit.” Laughlin took off his
glasses and set them on his desk beside a picture of his wife and kids. “You’re
on the Gracious Gertie case, right?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact I’ve
got an appointment with the victim in less than an hour. I stopped by to update
my reports and pull a couple files.”

“Looks like you’ll be off the
case soon. Woodford P.D.’s reported someone matching her description and MO in
their area. Should give you time to get caught up.”

Randy sat for a moment, sorting
his thoughts before answering. He had court dates, a few interviews on other
cases and the usual backlog of paperwork. Nothing urgent. “Look, Chief, I’d
like to stick with this a little longer. I might have a lead on the man who
called Anjolie Gaudet. I’ll be happy to cooperate with Woodford, of course.”

“Something you haven’t told me?”
Laughlin’s steel gray eyes bored right into Randy’s, as if he could cut out the
middleman and get the answer directly. Randy thought sometimes he could.

“Not exactly.”

“Try me.”

Although Laughlin had to answer
to the bean counters at city hall, Randy knew him to be a fair man. If the
chief thought some extra hours were justified, he’d permit it. Randy made sure
he kept his gaze steady. “While I was investigating the robbery, I found what
might be the possibility of business sabotage, and there were Consolidated
connections. Consolidated is big business around here, and if they’re into
something shady, we should know about it.”

“Might be? Possibility?” Laughlin’s
eyebrows stretched for his hairline. “What kind of sabotage?”

“Ms. Tucker’s shop. She’s been
having some financial trouble, and I think there’s more than run-of-the-mill
snafus behind it.”

“Has she filed any complaints?
With Kovak on vacation, you’re pulling double duty. You got time for this? Or
are you letting things get personal?”

“No, sir. It’s a gut feeling. I’ll
check on my own time if you don’t think it’s justified.”

“How many open cases?”

Randy did the mental math. “Six,
but most of them are in the ‘wait for someone else’ phase.”

Laughlin picked up his pen and
twirled it in his fingers. “I remember David Tucker. A shame about the
accident. He was in Rotary with me. Tell you what. You take half a day to
coordinate with Woodford.” He pointed the pen at Randy, using it to punctuate
his remarks. “You can continue your work on this Consolidated-Tucker
investigation for a couple of days, but after your other work is done. That
includes the paperwork, too. Things have been quiet, but if anything new comes
up, you drop this in a heartbeat.”

“No problem. Half a heartbeat.”
Randy stood and started to leave Laughlin’s office.

“Detweiler?”

“Sir?”

“You’re a loner, and that makes
you a damn good cop. I’ve always trusted your gut. But I’m wondering if a
different part of your anatomy’s leading you around on this one.”

* * * * *

Randy recited his cop-victim
mantra all the way to Sarah’s apartment. Nonetheless, he had to wipe his hands
on his jeans before he knocked on her door. “It’s Randy.” The sound of the
deadbolt being released brought a smile to his lips.

Sarah opened the door and
motioned him inside. She wore an oversized blue sweater over faded jeans that
hung on her slender body. Her feet were bare, revealing pale pink toenails and
a silver toe ring. Sounds of Mozart drifted from the stereo system.

“So, you said you have some
information,” she said.

“I might have found some of your
things.”

“That’s great!” Her smile
brightened the room. “Which ones? Where? Did you catch Gertie? Tell me.” Her
eyes sparkled.

He dropped his files on the
dining room table and took a seat. “Whoa. Slow down. I guess what we have is
one of those ‘good news, bad news’ situations.”

“What do you mean?” She sat down
across from him. “I thought you said you found some of my things.”

“I said
might
have found
some. I went to Pandora’s and saw a silver frame that looked like the picture
you showed me, and some animal carvings, too.” He pulled the prints out of one
of his folders, dropping them on the table in front of her.

Sarah picked them up and studied
each photograph. “It’s hard to say. I don’t have exclusivity with Dylan—he does
the animal carvings—and Anjolie pulled her silver from my place right after the
robbery.” She continued to go through the pictures.

“You’ve got several pictures of
frames here,” Sarah said. “Gertie only stole one from me. I thought you said
Pandora’s didn’t want Anjolie’s work.”

“I talked with the manager. They
accepted it, but gave her the same deal you did. I guess she was too
embarrassed to bring her things back to you when she found out they hadn’t made
that great offer.”

“Her stuff was stolen from my
shop. I can understand why she wouldn’t come back.”

Sarah tapped the stack of photos
on the table while she talked. “Each of Anjolie’s pieces is slightly different.
Did you compare the one you took from my files to these?”

“I tried, but I can’t tell if it’s
the same frame, or another one like it. I thought you might know what to look
for.” He pulled the picture of the stolen frame from Sarah’s files.

She scrutinized the pictures,
comparing the stolen frame to several in the stack. “I can’t be positive. I had
strictly ‘one-of-a-kinds’. There are a few here that have a roses and leaves
pattern. It’s obvious that Anjolie brought a lot more work to Pandora’s than we
displayed.”

That “we” brought Randy down in a
hurry. David was still in the room with them. He fumbled with the files. “Can
you identify the stolen frame?”

“Sorry. Not positively. Not from
a picture.”

“I don’t think it’s too important
at this point. I don’t think Anjolie was involved in the robbery.” He didn’t
mention that he thought Anjolie had been duped in order to hand Sarah yet
another setback in her shop operations.

Sarah leaned across the table and
extended the photos to Randy. David or no David, the scent of peaches in her
hair and the featherlight touch of her fingers sent an electric shock down to
his toes. He squirmed in his chair, trying to ignore the ache in his loins. “Now
for a summary of where things stand.”

“Please.” Her eyes looked right
through him.

He cleared his throat before continuing.
“Gertie has shown up in Woodford, so I’ll be turning that part of the
investigation over to them. I did find that Consolidated owns more than half of
Pandora’s and has had dealings with most of the companies that you’ve had
problems with.”

“So you think Consolidated is
trying to put me out of business? That doesn’t make any sense. I’m a tiny
operation. And if they wanted my place, why didn’t someone simply come right
out and make me an offer? No, I don’t buy that.”

“Not Consolidated. But someone who’s
connected might be behind it.” He rearranged the photos. “I talked to Diana
today. Her husband’s on Consolidated’s Board of Directors.”

“You think moneybags wants my
shop?”

“No, but I think maybe Diana
might have met Consolidated people—maybe at functions with her husband. Maybe
there’s some connection. I don’t know. And she gave me a possible lead on
Brandt.” He bowed his head, massaged his temples. When he looked at Sarah, she
was grinning.

“Headache? Diana can do that to
you. Want some aspirin?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

She stared at him and her mouth
gaped. “She hit on you, didn’t she?”

Had Sarah read him that easily? “I
think she was doing what came naturally.”

“Most of what Diana has didn’t
come naturally,” Sarah mumbled. “I don’t blame you for reacting.”

“Believe it or not, I was doing
my job and wasn’t … reacting. Not the way you put it.” Diana might be built
like an adolescent’s wet dream, but it was Sarah who had his blood surging
south.

“Diana knows how to get what she
wants. And now she wants the shop.” Sarah pushed back from the table and
wandered into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, then walked back to
the living room, picking up and setting down the pictures on her shelf.

Randy got up and stood behind
her, jamming his hands into his pockets. He ached to hold her again, to offer
comfort, to inhale her scent. But he couldn’t help but notice that she lingered
over a photo of herself with another man. Sarah’s hair had been longer, pulled
back in a casual ponytail, her face fuller. The man’s hair, thick and curly,
hung about his face in windblown disarray. Against a backdrop of pine trees,
the two held hands and even from where Randy stood, there was no mistaking the
love in their eyes. They stared at each other like nothing else in the universe
existed.