Kill Shot (13 page)
Dropping by the nearest branch of her bank she deposited the checks before heading back to Oz’s apartment. She twisted her key in the lock, thinking how quickly her life had changed. Last week she’d been a completely unattached female with a thriving career, who crawled into her empty bed at night without even a cat to keep her warm.
She clasped the brass key in her hand and hurried inside where, somehow she’d found a second chance at happiness with the only man she’d ever loved.
#
Oz stood outside Jobe East Tower in his best suit. He couldn’t help but be a little awed by the sheer magnificence of the structure.
He presented his credentials to the security guard and was directed to the spa where Randal Knox had been employed. He took the elevator down to the underground shopping mall. The Golden Coast Spa was located at the far end of the mall. Oz passed half a dozen high end boutiques, a convenience store and a sports equipment shop where he could have selected golf clubs or a new tennis racquet. An interior designer operated out of a tiny shop and the words, by appointment only, were stenciled in gold script.
Oz pushed through one of the spas golden doors and a heavy fragrance enveloped him. He paused to watch the receptionist working at a computer screen with a Madonna- style earpiece. She appeared to be talking to herself. Oz looked beyond the reception desk to the glassed-in workout room filled with shiny chrome equipment and a few smartly clad individuals using the equipment.
A hair and nail salon was located to the left and smaller rooms offered massage therapy, skincare and other services.
By the time the receptionist turned to Oz he’d grown tired of waiting and flashed his badge. He talked to the manager, Sylvia Cosgrove, who said that Randal Knox failed to call in or show up for work and had been terminated, but had not picked up his final check.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Knox has been murdered.” Oz watched Sylvia’s bored expression evaporate.
“He’s dead?” She looked surprised rather than sorry.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Did a jealous husband blow him away?”
“What makes you ask that?”
She made a scoffing noise in her throat. “Are you kidding? Randy wasn’t exactly discreet with the action he was getting.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Sylvia’s face became guarded. “I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
Oz gazed at her, knowing the name she was reluctant to say. “Give me a list of the other employees. I want to question them individually.” She gathered herself and agreed to allow him the use of her office for the interviews, he suspected so that the guests wouldn’t be disturbed by the ugly business of an official police inquiry.
The first person to enter the room wore a face that he had seen before. Oz struggled to maintain a dispassionate expression as a jolt of recognition ran through him. This was the so-called “hottie” that Laurel Jobe had embraced on a park bench. The pieces were starting to come together.
“State your full name please.” Oz switched on the recorder.
His gaze flicked over the recorder. He wet his lips and stammered, “I’m Jason, Jason Best.” Jason was a fresh faced man who wasn’t as young as he first appeared. He wore a sleeveless tee that showcased his well-developed arms and shorts that did the same for his defined thighs.
Oz frowned across the desk at Jason Best. “You were acquainted with Randal Knox?”
“We worked together, but we weren’t friends or anything. I mean, it’s too bad and all, but Randy was a complete asshole.”
“How so?” Oz probed.
Jason brushed back the hair that had fallen across his forehead with a practiced hand. “Randy was always on an ego trip. He tried to grab private clients from other personal trainers.”
“Did he steal any of your clients?”
“Not from me.” Jason gave him a boyish grin. “My clients are very loyal.”
“What exactly do you do here, Mr. Best?”
“I teach classes and set up exercise regimens for new members. And I have private sessions with a few select private clients.”
“Do you know Laurel Jobe?” Oz watched in satisfaction as the thin veneer cracked.
Jason visibly paled. His expression became guarded. “Laurel Jobe? Why would you ask that?”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Oz stared at him coldly.
“It’s yes. Mrs. Jobe is a client.”
“What do you do for Mrs. Jobe?” Oz kept his countenance neutral, enjoying watching Jason squirm.
“I’m her personal trainer.”
“What does that entail?”
“You know, I help her exercise.”
Oz allowed a tinge of amusement to lift the corners of his lips. “Do you ever have occasion to see Mrs. Jobe in a place other than the confines of the spa?”
Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Answer the question.” Oz’ voice dropped to a lower register.
“I...we...No,” he said. “We always worked here at the spa.”
Oz smiled, letting him know that he knew otherwise.
“That’s all the questions I have for you right now, but you should stay available.”
“Available?” Jason’s voice broke.
“In case I have more questions.”
#
Micki smiled when she heard her mother’s voice.
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m staying with Oz.”
She listened to her mother tell her how glad she was that she and Oz had worked it out and that she’d always known they would get back together eventually.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom,” she said. “We’ve got some things to straighten out, but we’re working on it. At least we’re talking.”
And having hot sex in the shower.
She’d neglected to inform her mother that she’d been shot at, assaulted and robbed. It was a sin of omission.
“Yes, Mom, I’ll bring Oz to dinner real soon.”
She hung up the phone, knowing that her mother would be on the phone to Oz’ mom as fast as she could punch in the numbers. This was happening too fast. She and Oz hadn’t resolved anything yet. What if they couldn’t work things out? Would she be willing to compromise? Would he?
#
The security guard called up to the penthouse and asked if Lissa would see the police officer. Oz was sent up in the private express elevator. When the doors opened, he stepped out into an Art Deco foyer as Lissa Montgomery opened the door to the Jobe accommodations. She invited him inside.
Oz looked around, marveling at the lavish apartment. He wondered how people could have so much. The huge flat was filled with antiques and works of art. The walls were hung with paintings and tapestries and pieces of statuary were arranged on ornate pedestals.
“Would you care for a refreshment, Officer?” Lissa seemed to like the role of playing hostess.
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Jobe at home?”
“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “I would have gone down to the desk to meet you if either one of them was here. They don’t like strangers in the penthouse.”
“Where are they?”
“Mr. Hobart is at his office in the West Tower and Mrs. Laurel is visiting friends. She told me she’d be out until late.”
“And their child?”
“Trey is in my care. He has a very strict schedule.”
“So you do the same things at roughly the same times every day?”
“Yes, it’s always the same. Did you find out what happened to Randy?” she asked.
“No, but I have a few more questions to ask you.” He smiled his encouragement.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Other than you and your father, did you tell anyone else that Mr. Knox assaulted you?”
“The police,” she said.
“Do you know Jason Best?”
Lissa’s expression became guarded. “Jason? Why do you ask?”
“Can I take that as a yes?”
She nodded, keeping her eyes averted. “Yes.” Her fingers straightened the scarf artfully arranged on the table.
“Where did you meet him?”
“Uh, he’s a friend of Mrs. Jobe.” Lissa seemed to be having trouble meeting his eyes.
“Mrs. Jobe introduced you to him?”
“Not really,” she said.
“Which is it, Lissa?”
She leaned forward in her seat, her hands clasped together in her lap. “Oh, you can’t tell Mrs. Jobe, but I saw him here with her and then later I recognized him down at the spa. I went up to him and said hi.” Her eyes were wide and she nodded her head all through the speech. “She doesn’t know I talk to him sometimes.”
“And Mrs. Jobe wouldn’t like it if she knew that you talk to Jason?”
“Absolutely not.” Lissa glanced around as though someone might overhear. “She likes him.”
“Likes him?” Oz pretended not to understand.
“You know, likes him.” She looked around again. “Like, he’s her boyfriend.” Lissa sank back onto the settee as though exhausted by the effort of getting this bit of information across to such an obtuse man.
“How long have you worked for the Jobes?” Oz asked.
“Since Trey was born. He’s going to be like, two in October so it’s almost two years.” She smiled brightly.
“And how long has Mrs. Jobe been friends with Jason?”
“About six months now.” Her voice dropped in register.
Oz leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Did she have another friend before Jason?”
Lissa’s smooth brow furrowed. “Ooh, like, I wish you wouldn’t ask me these questions.” She looked at Oz and made another face. “Oh, alright. Yes, she was seeing Randy before Jason.”
Oz considered how to frame his question. “Did they have a falling out?”
“No, she told me, like, she got tired of him. Randy wasn’t as smart as Jason. Jason has been to college and he’s really a whole lot cuter. Randy’s body was better but, like, Jason has the cutest face.”
“I see.” Oz switched the recorder off and thanked her for her cooperation.
“You won’t, like, mention to Mrs. Jobe that I told you about her, uh, friends. Will you?”
“I don’t think I’ll have occasion to mention that you gave me this information.”
She showed him to the door and he rode the express elevator to the ground floor.
Fast track.
#
Walking into his apartment, Oz inhaled a savory aroma emanating from his kitchen. He didn’t see Micki but there was ample evidence of her recent presence. The coffee table was set with dishes and a small bouquet of flowers adorned the window ledge.
He looked around smiling. His apartment looked different since Micki had arrived. It felt different.
No, he was different. There was a core of happiness inside him. He wanted to wake up every morning as long as Micki was in his arms.
“Micki,” he called. The sound of his voice echoed off the hard surfaces.
He experienced a tiny stab of fear when he realized she really wasn’t around. He assured himself that she was fine, but the slim possibility that she wasn’t caused him to reach for his cell phone.
Hearing her key in the lock, he exhaled and tucked it away. Seeing her face brought a wave of relief.
“Hey, Oz,” she said. “I hope your day was as good as mine.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “It just got better.” He acknowledged his shift in emotion and realized that the big difference in his life was that he could feel again. When she’d left him he’d eventually become numb, and then, seeing her again had brought back all the pain, raw as a fresh wound.
Setting a bag on the counter, she turned to give him a kiss. “Hey, what’s that about?” She smoothed the frown from his brow with two fingers.
“Nothing.” He lifted her with his embrace.
“You’re not still worrying about me, are you?”
He shook his head, burying his face in her hair.
“Liar,” she whispered in his ear.
“I’m glad you’re home, Micki.” He set her on her feet. “What’s in the bag?”
“Wine,” she said. “I made lasagna.”
“From scratch?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I used a jar of sauce and the kind of noodles you don’t have to cook and the cheeses were already shredded. If you want scratch, go to your mama’s house.” She took a salad from the refrigerator and set it on the coffee table.
“I’m going to tell her you said that.”
“No you won’t.”
“You’re right, I won’t.” Oz grinned at her and took off his jacket.
