Flawless (27 page)

The Diamond District. And to the best of her knowledge, it was a store that hadn't been hit as yet, not by the water-gun-wielding thieves—or by the killers.

She fumbled, reaching into her pocket for her phone. She dialed Craig, but the call went straight to voice mail.

The same thing happened when she tried Mike's phone.

She knew there were at least four policemen and one FBI agent in the pub, but still...

As she sat there, Declan came over and told her to go home. “Have your agent take you—and make sure he stays with you.”

She looked at her brother. “Declan, this is getting too scary. What about you and Danny and Kevin? I'm beginning to be afraid for all of us.”

Should she tell him what she'd just found?

That could put him in danger, too.

Or it could mean nothing. Maybe some idiot had been writing down the address of a place to buy a ring for his fiancée.

Somehow she doubted that.

“Don't worry. Debbie's already gone, and the rest of us are going home soon. Danny, Kevin, myself and Mary Kathleen, the four of us will go to my place. We'll be a little tight, but we'll be fine,” he assured her.

“How long?” she murmured. “How long can we do this? How can you run a business when you're worried all the time that something awful's going to happen?”

“Something has to give. And,” he reminded her, “I'm good at taking care of myself.”

It was true, she knew. When they'd been kids, Declan had been able to win them all the toys they wanted at every street fair. Even then, he could shoot with precision. And nowadays he had both a gun permit and the gun to go with it.

She nodded.

He grinned. “I'd make you come, too, except I think you're in even better hands.”

“Marty Salinger?” she asked him, surprised.

“The FBI,” he said, smiling.

She knew he meant Craig. And that he assumed Craig himself would join her as soon as possible.

So much for brothers being overprotective. All three of hers seemed to think that whatever was going on between her and Craig was fine and dandy. They liked him. Really liked him.

What wasn't to like?

Still...

She found it a little perplexing that they'd never once so much as questioned his intentions.

“Okay,” she said. “Maybe I should go to the hospital. Julie might want to go home.”

“No need. She's settled in there for the night,” he told her.

“How do you know?”

“She called Danny.”

“Oh,” Kieran murmured. She rose to go, but Declan took her arm to stop her.

“Whatever that kid tells you, do it, okay? He had to go through some pretty major training to be where he is, so you listen to him, okay? Stay safe, Kieran. Please.”

“Of course,” she said.

She collected everything from the table, glad that Declan was too distracted to notice what she'd really been doing. She tucked the rubbing into her pocket, then found Marty and asked to go home. As they passed the table where she'd been sitting with Jimmy, she bent down and pretended to find his phone on the floor.

“Someone will be missing that,” Marty said.

“Yeah, but at least I know this guy. I'll get it back to him tomorrow. He's in almost every day.”

Marty just nodded.

She took a deep breath and said, “I can't reach Craig.”

“He's going through a lot, I imagine. He shot a man. That's a lot of red tape,” Marty said.

“I really need to reach him,” she said.

“What is it? Can you tell me?” he asked. “I'm not Craig, but I
am
FBI.”

She hesitated, then told him what she'd found and how scared she was starting to feel. He nodded and pulled out his phone. The next thing she knew, she was talking to assistant director Eagan.

Eagan thanked her and told her to go home. “I'll send men to that address, and we'll see if anything is going on.”

“Better?” Marty asked her when she hung up and handed him back his phone.

“Much.”

“Give me a minute. I want to take a look at the street,” he said. “Stay inside. That's a cop in the corner there. I'll come back in for you in a minute or two.”

She agreed, and a minute later, as promised, Marty was back. He told her to follow him, then did his best to shield her with his own body as they went to the car.

He was equally careful when they got out in front of her apartment.

The minute they hit the sidewalk, the karaoke club bombarded them with an Adele number sung slightly too high.

He grinned at her. “Karaoke! I love it. What a cool place to live.”

“Thanks.”

He followed her into her apartment and watched as she secured both the bolts. She turned and asked him if he wanted anything.

He shook his head. “Get some sleep,” he told her. “I promise, I'm better than a German shepherd. I'll be on the sofa, watching the door.”

In her room, Kieran donned her pajamas, though she knew she was never going to sleep.

But she would lie down.

And wait.

* * *

It was well past 1:00 a.m. when Craig was finally free of the red tape that came with any shooting and, pending final review, cleared of any charges, in large part because Eagan had stepped in and called on every friend he had. Luckily, there had also been a number of witnesses able to testify to the shooter's rampant disregard for life.

While the engines to clear Craig of the shooting had revved into gear, the dead man had been taken to the morgue. An ID and a twenty-dollar bill had been found in his wallet.

The ID had been proved to be bogus. According to his fake driver's license, he had been one David Thoreau.

As it turned out, his fingerprints told another story. He was really Dean Thiessen, an out-of-work computer expert. He lived alone in Hell's Kitchen—or Clinton, as the area was now called—and had no known family. His prints were in the system because he'd once been arrested on a robbery charge, though the case had been dismissed for lack of evidence.

His gun was sent to the lab, where it proved to be the weapon that had killed Maria Antonescu.

Craig hadn't been able to call Kieran or even Marty, though Eagan had let him know that Marty had filled Kieran in, and then that she'd asked Marty to pass along an address.

The NYPD had staked out the store, but nothing had happened.

Was that because one of the killers was now dead himself?

Craig had recognized the man because he'd seen him sitting in Finnegan's, talking with Jimmy.

Just before Eagan had arrived to give him the all clear, he'd been sitting morosely in the quiet FBI offices when Mike walked in.

“What's that face for?” Mike asked. “You saved my life tonight. Shouldn't you be smiling?”

“Someone's dead, Mike. And I killed him.”

“It was either him or me or you. I rather like the way it turned out.”

“But if I'd just winged him...”

“We shoot to kill when we're being shot at. You know that,” Mike said.

Craig nodded.

“Idiot, thinking he could gun down two agents like that,” Mike said.

Craig looked at him with surprise. “What?”

“He came after us.”

Craig shook his head. “No, I don't think so. I think he came after Bailey Headley. I think he was trying to stop her from talking to us.”

“Could be,” Mike agreed thoughtfully. “Wonder if he knew she'd already told us everything she knew?”

“She have any protection assigned to her, do you know?” Craig asked.

Mike nodded. “Mr. Rowe brought her here as soon as the coast was clear, and an agent escorted her home. There are teams watching her apartment 24/7. I don't know how long we're going to be able to watch so many people,” he said with a sigh.

“We're close—we're so damned close. Do we have that sketch yet?” Craig asked Mike.

“Yes. And we were right.”

“Sylvia Mannerly. Who'd have thought it?” Craig asked.

Mike nodded. “The police went out to bring her in, but she's not at home or the office. She's implicated in this somehow, Craig. I just wish I knew how. Whether she's been supplying information, setting people up—or committing the crimes herself—she's guilty somehow.”

“
And
in the wind,” Craig said. “We need to put out an all-points bull—”

“It's been taken care of,” Mike assured him. “We're lead on this case, but we're not the only ones working it. Mayo has cops out scouring the city for her.”

“So the shooter tried to save her ass,” Craig murmured.

“You think she was actually at the robberies?” Mike asked.

Craig shrugged. “I think it's possible. She's tall enough—especially if she was wearing boots with lifts. I think that the man I killed tonight was definitely one of the killers.”

“We need to speak with Jimmy McManus, too,” Mike said. “They can't find him, either.”

“What?”

“He was at the pub tonight, but he left early. Mayo sent officers to his apartment, but he's a no-show, too.”

Eagan poked his head into the office. “You still here, too, Mike? Go home. Both of you. You can pick this up again tomorrow. We have people watching for Sylvia Mannerly—if that's her real name—and Jimmy. Go on, get out of here.”

“So I'm cleared to go?” Craig asked him.

“You're as clean as a newborn babe. You should sleep. I can get someone else to relieve the kid and watch over Miss Finnegan.”

Craig shook his head. “I'll relieve Marty,” he said.

“Yeah, I figured,” Eagan said, studying him.

Craig tried to keep looking directly into the director's eyes. It was a struggle. “Good night, sir,” he said.

“Good night.”

Craig drove straight to Kieran's. He parked the car and hurried down the street, almost forgetting to watch out for himself. Then something stirred the hair on the back of his neck and he paused, suddenly certain someone was following him.

He turned but didn't see anyone, so he retraced his steps, checking out the entryways along both sides of the street. No one.

He hurried back to Kieran's place and headed up the stairs.

The karaoke club was going late. How the hell did anyone sleep around here?

He paused outside Kieran's door then hurried back downstairs.

Monday night, after 1:00 a.m., and the club was still crowded. He walked inside and looked around. All he saw were groups of college students, a lot of them wearing sweatshirts identifying them as NYU students.

He headed back to the door. It wasn't that the killer couldn't be there and wearing a college shirt.

It was just that he had no way of knowing who might have just slipped in and who'd been there all night.

Back at Kieran's place, he knocked.

Marty opened the door just as Kieran came out of her bedroom wearing panda pajamas. Her eyes were big and blue as they settled on him questioningly, and her auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders in disarray.

At that moment he didn't think he'd ever seen a woman—or an outfit—that was more seductive.

He managed to get Marty out the door quickly, promising to explain everything in the morning, and then he turned to Kieran.

“Craig—”

“Not now,” he told her softly. “Not now.”

He folded her into his arms, and she seemed to understand instinctively that this was a time for action, not words.

She kissed him hard and moved seductively against him.

They stumbled together back into her bedroom, where they made love. And then they made love again.

And somehow that eased all the tension from him and brought on the exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning and she was straddling him, smiling.

“I have a present for you,” she said.

He managed a sleepy grin at that.

“I think you gave me the best present in the world last night. Are you telling me you're ready for more?”

“Not yet,” she said. “It's a cell phone.”

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

KIERAN SHOWERED, THEN
started coffee and bagels while Craig studied Jimmy McManus's phone. He made a few calls, then joined her.

“So I heard you found an address etched into a table,” he said. When she nodded, he shook his head. “The cops sent men to watch, but nothing happened. They've called the store manager to tell him to be especially vigilant. The thieves might have planned to hold it up last night, before one of their own was killed. Or maybe they got wind the police were onto them—who knows? So, does Jimmy know you have his phone?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. He must know by now that he lost it at the pub, though, so I figured we'd have it back there by this morning and he'd never know.”

“Found in plain sight?” he asked her.

“Yes, of course. It was on the floor,” she said, waving a hand in the air.

He was thoughtful a moment. “Do you think your bosses will mind if you call in late?”

She shook her head. “I'll tell them I'm with the FBI. Plus I worked on a Sunday.”

“Why did you work on a Sunday?”

“Dr. Miro does a lot of work for battered women. She took on a case pro bono, and the woman wanted to open up more, so I went out to Rikers to see her.”

Kieran made a point of pouring coffee as she spoke. She didn't like lying to him. She still didn't want to tell him about Tanya Lee Hampton and what she had heard. It was just too dangerous—not for her, but for Tanya.

She still felt uncomfortable lying to him, though.

As uncomfortable as hiding the fact that Danny had stolen a diamond for Julie.

She paused, remembering that Gary had been in the bar the night before.

She set a cup of coffee in front of him and asked, “You haven't said anything about your night. I guess it's all in the line of duty? You're shot at, so you shoot back.”

“No,” he said, looking at her steadily. “Most of the time we're just sitting around and watching people. Or asking questions. Following leads and clues, and hoping that people will talk to us.”

“So we've both been marked for death,” she murmured.

He shook his head. “I think they were after a woman who is helping us. Anyway, the guy is dead. And I'm pretty sure you'd recognize him.”

He went on to explain, taking care not to throw suspicion on Jimmy, since he was a friend of hers, even though the guy's disappearing act looked like a pretty clear admission of guilt to him.

“And you think he was one of them—one of the thieves?”

Craig nodded. “I'm going to grab a shower before we head in and let my tech guy see that phone. Then I'll get you to work.”

“I'll call the office,” she said.

Craig showered and dressed at the speed of light. In ten minutes they were out of her apartment and on the way to his office.

“Come on, we're going to go see Wally,” he told her, leading the way.

Wally worked in a room filled with cubicles, computers and mysterious high-tech devices. He stood quickly, smiling at Kieran. Craig quickly introduced the two of them.

“Kieran found this phone on the floor at Finnegan's last night,” Craig said, not batting an eye. “Can you pull the call records for me? And will that take long?”

“I have the phone in my hand. No time at all,” Wally said. He kept smiling at Kieran. She smiled back. “Love Finnegan's.”

“Thanks.”

“Love the motto, too. ‘Any decent person would lend a hand.'”

“Thank you,” she said again.

“We have to return the phone this morning,” Craig told Wally. “Whoever lost it will probably come back looking for it.”

“No problem,” Wally assured him.

The phone held a chip. The chip held an address book as well as a listing of every incoming and outgoing call.

Wally gave Craig the list. “There's a number you should note,” he said.

“Which one?”

Wally pointed. “That one,” he said. “I recognized it from all the paperwork coming through. It's the number for Clean Cut Office Services.”

* * *

The noose seemed to be tightening around Jimmy's neck.

Craig got Kieran to work, where Marty met them, ready to take on the responsibility of watching her through the day.

He doubted that anyone would be stupid enough to attack her there, but since the shooting attack in the pharmacy, nothing seemed impossible. Still, cops and attorneys were coming and going at Fuller and Miro all the time, and a lot of them carried guns and knew how to use them. It would take a pretty desperate killer to go after her there.

Eagan had seen to it that a search warrant was already being executed on Clean Cut Office Services.

Bailey Headley had described Sylvia Mannerly so well that the sketch artist's rendering could have been taken with a camera.

Just as he was about to head uptown to join Mike at the cleaning company, Craig received a call from Eagan.

“We've found Jimmy McManus,” Eagan said.

“Dead or alive?” Craig asked.

“Alive, and about to be released from the hospital. He was the victim of an attack that left him for dead, but luckily for him, the bullet only grazed his head. There was a lot of blood, though, probably why his attacker most likely thought he was dead. It was either a real mugging or meant to look like one. His wallet was stolen, and he wore a Rolex and that's gone, too, along with his phone, a couple of gold chains and a gold ring.”

“How did they find him?”

“His name popped up when we screened city hospitals and morgues.”

“Who's with him now?”

“The cops are there. You know, even though he knew the guy who shot at you, we don't have any evidence against him.”

Craig knew that, and he knew Kieran would be happy if McManus turned out to be pure as the driven snow.

“Are the cops bringing him into the office?” Craig asked.

“They are. Head back here now. Leave Mike in charge of the search at the cleaning service.”

“I'm turning around as we speak,” Craig promised.

* * *

Work seemed to stretch on forever. There was a meeting in which both she and Jake were thanked for being exceptional employees and helping to keep the ethical standing of the company at an extreme high.

She met with Madison Taylor, the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, who had taken up shoplifting. As they talked, Kieran felt that, just as she'd expected, the girl had been making a play for her parents' attention, a play that had failed because they hadn't even bothered to come home from a European vacation when she'd been arrested. They'd simply hired a battery of attorneys and sent her to Doctors Fuller and Miro.

As caught up as she was in matters of life and death, Kieran forgot for a moment that she was practicing therapy and yearned to smack the girl. To Dr. Miro's credit, she'd refused to write a prescription for anxiety drugs and sent the girl straight in to see Kieran, who managed not to strangle her and instead tried to make her understand that she couldn't control other people, only her own reaction to them.

It was a philosophy she tried to live by herself, though not always successfully.

The day continued to drag on. She saw a few more people, but continually found herself looking out the window and wishing she was out on the street.

She didn't even bother suggesting going out for lunch; she knew Marty would never have agreed to it.

She wished that Craig would call. He didn't. She refrained from calling him herself.

At four thirty she gave up on getting anything else done and went out to the lobby. Today Marty was sipping coffee and reading a current-affairs magazine; she could tell by the pile on the table in front of him that he'd already gone through all the entertainment and gossip magazines.

He looked up at her, and she said, “Hey, I'm done for the day. Want to head out when you're done with your coffee?”

He stood immediately. “I'm ready now.”

“It's okay—I'm not in any hurry,” she told him.

As she spoke, they heard the squeal of tires from down on the street, followed by angry shouting.

“The traffic in this city is crazy,” Marty said, shrugging.

But the commotion coming up from the street said something more was going on.

“What the hell—heck?” Marty murmured, then pulled his gun and headed downstairs.

Kieran followed him.

“You should have stayed in the office,” Marty told her, dismayed to realize that she had joined him in the elevator.

His gun in his hand, he shoved her behind him when they reached the first floor and the doors opened. She stayed close as they headed for the street door.

A policeman in uniform was already there, ordering people back. She could hear sirens.

As the crowd followed the cop's orders and moved back, she saw the body of a man lying on the sidewalk. His throat had been slit, evident from the widening circle of blood under him and the crimson stain soaking his shirt.

Kieran gasped. “Oh, my God, I know him!” she said before she could stop herself.

He was the dark-haired man who'd been at Finnegan's with Jimmy.

* * *

McManus looked like hell, Craig had to admit.

He was also damned lucky. The side of his head was bandaged where the bullet had scraped along his temple just two inches from his eye. He sat in the conference room looking at Craig like a very old lost lamb.

“I didn't know,” he said, his voice husky. “You say that David Thoreau was really Dean Thiessen? And that he tried to kill you?” He shook his head incredulously. “He and his partner—tall dark-haired guy—just sat down and started talking to me one day at Finnegan's. They were nice guys, friendly, thought the pub was a great place, so old-school New York. We kept talking—they found out I do some investing, and they told me they were looking to put their money in something that couldn't crash. Something that might go down, like everything does sometimes, but wouldn't crash. Like gold. If you own gold and hold on to it, the value will always go back up, even if it slips. Or diamonds. Quality diamonds. Well, I know a lot of jewelers. A lot of them come to Finnegan's. Years ago, before old man Finnegan died and the kids took over, a lot of the established jewelers had some kind of monthly meeting there, and a lot of jewelers from all over the city still go there. I'm an old-timer, too, and a lot of them are still my friends. I get a big buyer for them and they cut me in. I don't really need to work, but I like to keep my hand in.”

“So you introduced the two men to some of your jeweler friends, and then they turned around and learned everything they could from the owners and managers before robbing and killing them?” Craig said.

Jimmy winced and seemed to fold in on himself. “And Bobby,” he said with a whisper. “It was them, right? Those guys beat up Bobby and nearly killed him, didn't they? And now they're after me.”

“So,” Craig said, “how did Sylvia Mannerly fit in?”

“Who?” Jimmy asked, looking puzzled.

“Jimmy, your phone was found,” Craig said, but he didn't mention how or when. “It wasn't stolen in the mugging.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Son of a bitch, huh? Well, at least the muggers didn't get everything,” he said bitterly. He frowned, looking at Craig. “So you have my phone, huh?”

“We don't have your phone. Kieran found it on the floor in Finnegan's. You called a woman named Sylvia Mannerly.”

Jimmy looked completely puzzled. “No, I didn't.”

“Clean Cut Office Services,” Craig said.

“Oh!” Jimmy said. “Yeah, of course I've called there. They clean my place.”

“You have an office?”

“My apartment is my office,” Jimmy said.

“You knew that the victim at the last robbery worked for the company, and you never mentioned that to anyone?”

“People were killed in a computer warehouse robbery last year,” Jimmy said, looking at Craig in confusion. “I own one of their computers. I didn't go to the police.”

“Jimmy, a man who was almost certainly involved in a series of robberies and murders is dead. Who's to say that you weren't involved, too, and that's why you were also supposed to die?”

“Sweet Jesus in heaven!” Jimmy said with horror. “Me, involved?” He was suddenly furious. “Have you checked my financials? I don't need to steal diamonds.”

There was a knock at the door before Craig had a chance to point out that for lots of people there was no such thing as rich enough. He excused himself and rose.

Eagan was outside. “We've got another dead man,” he said.

* * *

There was so much confusion on the street that Kieran found herself surprisingly impressed by Marty Salinger's ability to keep her protected while officers spilled onto the sidewalk, sirens wailed and a half dozen witnesses talked at once.

“He was thrown out of the car.”

“No, man, it looked like he just kind of fell out of the car.”

“It had tinted windows.”

“It was like they wanted him found at this exact location.” In a matter of moments, chaos became order. The scene was blocked off with crime-scene tape, and officers smoothly separated the witnesses who needed to give statements from everyone who'd been drawn by the scent of blood.

Marty moved toward the group of witnesses, flashed his badge at the cops and explained that Kieran worked upstairs, was under his protection and had recognized the victim.

“You know this man?” an officer asked her.

“I don't
know
him, but I've seen him,” she clarified. “He's been in Finnegan's on Broadway, the pub my family owns.” She hesitated. “He was there with the man who was killed in that shoot-out yesterday.”

The next thing she knew, she and Marty were sitting in the back of a police car, waiting for Detective Mayo.