Full Speed (8 page)

"I suspect he stays in the background as much as possible. He's probably got a couple of men he trusts who see that his orders are followed. Which is how it usually works for those in the upper echelon; they look like legitimate businessmen, but the businesses are merely fronts for illegal activity."

"Do you think Nick Santoni hired Vito Puccini and ordered the hit on you?"

Max nodded. "We have it on tape. Harlan discussed it with his bodyguard at length after Santoni paid him a visit yesterday. Rawlins had nothing to do with arranging it, but I think he suspected something was going on, and for some reason he decided not to go to the police. Which leads me to believe Santoni has something on him," he added. "Rawlins might be a lot of things, but he's probably not a killer. We still think you should wear a wire. In case there are any surprises."

Jamie didn't look convinced.

"It's like this," Max said. "I don't like the idea of your meeting with Harlan in the first place, but it's already set up, so I'll agree to it, but
only
if you're wired. I want to know where you are at all times. Otherwise, I'm calling this whole thing off."

He and Jamie locked gazes in a battle of wills. "What if Harlan discovers the wire?" she asked.

Max met her gaze. "That's not likely to happen as long as you keep your clothes on, Swifty."

* * * * *

Muffin greeted Max and Jamie in a surly voice when they climbed into the truck at ten-thirty for the drive to Knoxville. "That dog whines constantly. I don't like it."

"I know he's an inconvenience right now, Muffin," Jamie said, "but I don't know what to do with him."

"Try the animal shelter."

"Nobody would adopt him."

"Is he ugly?"

Jamie and Max both glanced over their shoulders at Fleas, who had his face pressed against the back window. Max shrugged; Jamie grinned. "Actually, he's pretty cute," she said.

"I guess it could be worse," Muffin said. "I guess I could be strapped to a moped or tied to the back of a mule."

"You should feel flattered that we need you so badly," Jamie told her as Max pulled from the driveway with Dave following. She glanced at Max. He looked distracted; Jamie knew he was worried.

"This is your big day, huh?" Muffin said. "You're having lunch with Rawlins."

"Uh-huh."

"You wearing your slut outfit?"

"No, I toned it down since we're meeting at the Hyatt Regency."

"Her skirt is a little short," Max said, "and she's wearing a push-up bra. If she sneezes she's going to pop out all over the place."

"And get this, Muffin," Jamie said. "I'm wearing a wire."

"You planning on doing the nasty?" Muffin asked.

Jamie gave a burst of laughter. "I don't believe you said that."

"Because if you are, you're going to have to excuse yourself and go to the rest room so you can remove that wire. Things get too hot, it might short-circuit on you."

"Time to change the subject," Max said. "You got anything new for me?"

"I'm still trying to find an address for Santoni. The man doesn't exist on paper, not even under the aliases he's used. Doesn't own property, doesn't even pay a light bill. I figure his family got all new identification for him when he relocated to Knoxville."

"Maybe he lives in Sweet Pea," Max said. "A man like that would enjoy the seclusion this area offers."

"I'll keep looking. As for looking into Harlan Rawlins, I've checked police records within a three-hundred-mile radius. There's a lot of domestic violence in this part of the country, which I attribute to financial stress. The unemployment rate here is very high. Harlan has never been arrested, but I did find something interesting when I checked the local hospital records. Harlan's wife has visited the emergency room twice, once for a fractured wrist which she claimed happened as a result of falling off her horse, and another time with a concussion when the same horse threw her and she hit her head against a tree."

"It sounds legit," Jamie said.

"Sounds like she needs to get rid of the horse," Max said. "Or Rawlins," he added. "If he was actually abusing his wife and Santoni knew, that in itself could be cause for blackmail." He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. "The Hyatt is less than a mile from here. Dave and I will follow you. We'll be close by at all times.

"Now listen to me, Jamie. If Harlan suggests going upstairs to a room, I want you to get the number to me. I don't care how you do it, work it into the conversation somehow, but make sure you say it loud enough for me to hear."

Jamie nodded. "I'll be OK, Max."

"One last thing. If there are any surprises, scream like hell. Dave and I will kick in the door if we have to, but I don't want you taking chances. I don't care if we blow the case or not when it comes to your safety."

"I'll be careful, I promise."

They climbed from the truck, and Jamie got in on the driver's side. As she put it into gear, she noticed her hand was trembling. She pulled onto the street once more and headed for the hotel.

Jamie noted the strange look on the valet's face as she pulled up to the Hyatt entrance. She didn't know if he was more amazed at the amount of rust on the truck or the sight of Fleas in back.

She handed the young man her key and smiled. "It's an antique," she said, motioning to the truck. "Please see that you don't put a scratch on it."

He remained straight-faced. "Yes, ma'am. I'll take good care of it. What about the dog?"

"He'll be fine. He's got food and water back there."

"You're not worried someone might take him?"

Jamie patted her wig into place. "Would you be if you were me?"

He looked at the animal. "On second thought, no."

Ward Reed was waiting for Jamie in the lobby. He motioned her toward the elevator. "Reverend Rawlins decided to order lunch in his private suite," he said. "I hope you don't mind."

Jamie couldn't hide her surprise. She hoped Max and Dave were nearby. "The reverend actually keeps a suite here?" she said, voice raised in surprise. "Oh, my. His own suite."

"He often has business in Knoxville. He also invites guests from time to time, you know, visiting clergy? There aren't any nice hotels in Sweet Pea."

Jamie knew about the hotels in Sweet Pea.

The elevator doors opened, and they waited for the people to clear out before entering. Jamie could feel the tension in the back of her neck. Reed punched a number, and she realized they were going to the top floor. "Wow, we're going all the way to the top? I'll bet there is a great view from up there."

Reed smiled stiffly. "Yes. Reverend Rawlins says he feels closer to heaven."

Jamie nodded as though it made perfect sense. She tried to remain calm as the express elevator whooshed them upward, but the thought of going to Harlan's private suite was a little unnerving. Then she reminded herself of the great story she would have when it was over, and that spurred her confidence.

A bell rang out, interrupting her thoughts.

"Here we are," Reed announced, holding the doors so Jamie could exit first. She followed him to a door at the end of the hall. "Oh, my, would you look at that! Room Twelve-ten. That's my birthday, December tenth. But don't you dare ask the year." She laughed at her own joke. Reed merely nodded. Jamie decided he didn't have much of a sense of humor.

He tapped lightly on the door and inserted a card into the lock. He pushed the door open. "Go on in. I'll escort you down when you're ready to leave."

Inside, Jamie found a large, beautifully decorated living room with a kitchenette. Fresh flowers sat on the coffee table.

Harlan stepped through a set of sliding glass doors that led outside onto the balcony. He smiled. "Welcome, Jane."

"Your suite is very nice," she said.

"Thank you." He walked over and touched one of her red curls, toyed with it. His gaze met hers. "I'm glad you came." His finger slid down her cheek, brushed her neck, and rested on her shoulder. "I sometimes come here to unwind or write my sermons."

Or get laid, Jamie thought. "We all need time to ourselves," she said. "I imagine it gets hectic touring all the time."

"Yes, it does." He took her hands in his. "But spending this time with you is a real treat. Would you like something to drink?" He nodded toward a basket of fruit and a bottle of wine. "I don't usually drink alcohol, but a dear friend left this for me, and I hate to waste it. I'm not particularly fond of the red wine. It tastes bitter to me. But if you like it, I'll join you."

That just might work in her favor, Jamie thought. "Yes, let's have a glass."

He grinned and uncorked the bottle. "I took the liberty of ordering lunch. I hope you like fish." He looked up and caught her staring. "Is something wrong?"

"You look tired, Harlan." Which was true.

"Why don't you go out on the balcony, prop your legs, and I'll pour the wine?"

He nodded. "Promise not to take too long?"

"I'll be right out." Jamie waited until he stepped outside before she poured the wine into two glasses. Once again, her fingers trembled as she reached into her pocket for one of the laxatives she'd crushed into a fine, white powder. She sprinkled it into his drink. She stirred it, taking care to see there was no residue on the side of the glass. She had about twenty minutes before it would start to work and then she could make her getaway.

"I know what you're doing," Harlan said the minute she joined him on the balcony.

Jamie froze. "You do?"

"You're trying to spoil me."

She relaxed. "Looks like you need spoiling. Here, drink this. Maybe you'll feel better."

He took the glass. "Do I really look that tired?"

"Oh, now I've gone and hurt your feelings."

"No, actually I appreciate your honesty. I haven't slept well lately, except for last night, but I think I just need to catch up on my rest." He took out a small pillbox, opened it, and took out several tiny pills.

Jamie noticed he was trembling. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"I have a little headache. These help." He popped them into his mouth, then raised his glass to his lips.

Jamie watched closely as he took a sip of his wine. He didn't seem to notice a difference. "Losing sleep will catch up with you sooner or later. Are you worried about something?"

He shrugged. "Just everyday stress, but I don't want to burden you with it. We're here to enjoy ourselves." He drained his glass. "Perhaps I should have another," he said.

Jamie studied him. "It's none of my business, Harlan, but I don't think you should be mixing alcohol with your medication."

He nodded. "You're probably right."

"You look very handsome today in that navy blue suit," she finally said. "That's definitely your color. I'll bet half the women in your congregation have a crush on you."

He smiled and tugged at his tie as though it was too tight. "Well, I do get my share of homemade cakes and pies."

"I'll bet you do," she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"There are a lot of lonely widows in the church. They just want someone to talk to, you know? I try to do my best."

"I'm sure you do." She sighed. "I know what it's like, Harlan. Not having anyone you can tell your troubles to. We all need someone we can trust. Someone who won't judge us or betray our confidence."

"People like that are hard to find," he said.

"My friends have always been able to come to me," Jamie said softly. "What good is a friend if you can't talk to them? I mean
really
talk to them," she added. "Unload, spill your guts, get it all off your shoulders kind of talk. I've heard it all, Harlan, buh-lieve you me. Nothing would shock me."

"That kind of friendship is rare indeed," he agreed.

"And I know about loneliness," she said. "The kind of loneliness you spoke of in your sermon. Sometimes ..." She paused, as though wrestling with her emotions.

"What is it, dear?"

"Sometimes I get so lonely my skin aches."

Harlan looked at her, studied her face. "Then you know what it's like. I've discovered I have to find solace wherever I can.
However
I can."

A knock at the door seemed to startle him. "That must be our lunch." He stood and walked inside, and Jamie followed. She wondered if it was her imagination, but he seemed to move sluggishly.

"Room service," a man announced.

Jamie thought she recognized the voice. Harlan opened the door, and Jamie felt her mouth drop open at the sight of Dave pushing in a food cart. He was dressed in a hotel uniform, and he wore a mustache and glasses. She wondered if he had counted the dust mites in the mustache before he'd put it on.

"Good afternoon," he said formally. "I believe you're expecting lunch?"

Harlan nodded. "Yes, we are."

"I'll have you set up in just a jiffy," Dave said, giving Jamie a private look. He pushed the cart to the table and began setting it, placing the utensils in their proper spots. "How are you today, ma'am?" he asked.

Jamie wondered how he had managed to get a uniform from the Hyatt. No telling what he and Max were up to. "I'm, uh, fine."

Dave set the dishes on the table and lifted a metal food warmer from the plates. Jamie eyed the food appreciatively: baked fish covered in a cream sauce, new potatoes, fresh asparagus, and a Caesar salad. Dessert consisted of pecan pie, a big favorite of hers.

Dave pulled out a chair for her. Jamie walked over to the table and allowed him to seat her.

"Will there be anything else?" Dave asked.

"That will be all," Harlan said.

Dave turned to leave. He paused at the door and gave Jamie the thumbs-up.

Jamie tasted her food. "It's delicious." Harlan was staring at his plate. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite."

"Oh, no. At least taste the fish. It's delicious. And you need to keep up your strength."

Harlan glanced up in surprise, as if he wasn't sure what she meant by the remark. Nevertheless, he forked a small amount of the fish and took a bite. "You're right. It's very good." He smiled, as if trying to put on a brave front.