Lying Eyes
Lying Eyes
By
Toni Noel
Other Books By Toni Noel
Decisive Moments
Fairy Dusted
Fragile Bonds
Homeward Bound
Law Breakers and Love Makers
Restored Dreams
Rising Above
Temp To Permanent
To Feel Again
Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.
27305 W. Live Oak Rd #424
Castaic, CA 91384
http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com
Copyright © 2015 by Toni Noel
ISBN 13: 978-1-68294-021-1
Published in the United States of America
Publication Date: February 2016
Editor-In-Chief: Gail R. Delaney
Editor: Christy Dyer
Marketing Director: Jenifer Ranieri
Cover Artist: Carol Fiorillo
Cover Art Copyright by Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc © 2016
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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
––––––––
T
his book is dedicated to all law enforcement officers wounded or killed in the line of duty. Their dedication to keeping us safe is greatly appreciated.
Without the willing help and advice of M. A. Taylor, author and retired law enforcement officer with over twenty years of service, the writing of this book would not have been possible.
Ms. Taylor described police procedures to the author, who promptly fictionalized the investigative procedures she had learned to fit this story, so be prepared to suspend belief.
––––––––
"
I need your help.
I'm in room 510 and don't know what to do."
"Don't you feel safe in your room?"
"I... don't know," Allison Marble replied.
"I'm on my way. Throw the security lock on your door until you hear my knock. Check the peephole to be sure it's me at the door and let me in."
Detective Carlo Demetri's quiet instructions helped ease Allison's concern.
She ended the call, hurried to the door, and flipped the security lock.
Have I done the right thing?
Was seeking help from a man she barely knew taking a foolhardy risk?
Her angst accelerated again.
Not when he's a cop.
Apparently he's a respected detective at the Los Angeles Police Department's Central Community Police Station, too.
He'd been invited to present a workshop for the same writers' conference where she would be giving two presentations.
Surely the officer would have a simple solution to her problem and she could again concentrate on the presentation she would be making the following day at the writers' conference.
An image of the heart-stopping detective with the dark, inscrutable eyes flickered through her mind. He hadn't even cracked a smile when he'd thoughtfully suggested she share his taxi from the crowded stand at Union Station to the Caprice Hotel downtown.
His dark blue uniform had been neatly pressed and his smooth cheeks recently shaved. If he hadn't explained he'd just come off an all-night stakeout at the train station and was looking forward to sleeping all afternoon, she would never have guessed. He'd also ruefully confessed he'd changed into his uniform at the station right before offering to help with her bags.
In the taxi she'd discovered the detective wasn't much of a talker, but he had eyes no woman would soon forget, and she'd impulsively reached in her pocket and exchanged business cards with him before stepping into the hotel elevator.
"
See you around,
"
he'd promised as she and the bellhop stepped out on her floor, probably not expecting to run into her again. He and some dark-skinned man had continued up.
She'd just begun settling into her room when she'd discovered the mix-up and called the detective. Disturbing the detective couldn't be avoided. She desperately needed his advice.
The moment she'd unzipped her gym bag in search of her hairbrush she'd discovered the mistake.
Two rapid knocks on her door startled Allison even though she'd been expecting them.
She strode to the door and let Detective Demetri in.
The walls of her hotel room seemed to draw in as the buff detective stalked inside. Keeping his right hand on his gun holster, he turned to her.
His curious gaze met hers. "How can I help?"
"Sorry to delay your nap. I didn't know who else to call."
"About what?"
"I... What should I do?"
"About what, Miss Marble?"
She unzipped the green gym bag on the dresser and stepped aside. "
This
."
The detective leaned over the bag for a better view.
He glanced at her in the mirror, stunned. "Don't you know it's not safe for a woman to travel with this much cash?" he all but shouted, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is this yours?"
His suspicious gaze revealed tiny pinpoints of light in his flinty eyes.
Allison shook her head.
"Where did you get it?"
"I don't know. I left home with a similar bag loaded with cosmetics and... stuff."
"Where did you put yours down?"
"In the baggage car of the Amtrak train I boarded in San Diego. An Amtrak employee helped me store my bags."
"Anywhere else?"
She shook her head. "No one was around when we pulled into the station. I had to wrestle my own luggage off the train. I hooked the straps of my gym bag over the pull-up handle of my suitcase and pushed both inside to look for the Taxi Stand."
"And...?"
"I spotted a sign for the stand and headed out. To my dismay, a mob scene awaited me outside, but you were there and already know that."
"Yes, I was. Did you ever take your hand off the handle?"
Allison thought for a moment. "Yes, while standing near the curb. I had to dig in my purse for the hotel address."
Carlo paced the length of her room. "I suspect this is drug money and whoever it belongs to is going to try his damndest to get it back. We received a tip that drugs were changing hands at the train station, and spent last night there with a team of undercover officers on the lookout for suspicious activity."
Allison stared at him, wide eyed.
"Several members of the team were at the Taxi Stand. The person responsible for switching bags with you most likely sensed the presence of undercover cops and ditched the cash. He probably hailed the next cab and followed you."
Alarmed, she swallowed. "You think he's here?"
"Yes, he could be in the lobby right now, waiting for you to come down or hovering right outside your door."
Allison's mouth went dry. Her pulse quickened as the meaning of the detective's words sank in. She'd come to this convention to have fun, but now...
"He knows what I look like."
"I'm afraid so, but I'll—"
Delighted at being smack in the middle of a police investigation, she smiled. "I'll help you catch him."
"No."
"
No?
What do you mean,
no?
You haven't even heard my plan."
"Forget it. I intend to get you safely out of this hotel as soon as I can."
"You can't do that. I paid good money to attend this conference and I'm staying here until the end."
"Over my dead body."
"If that's what you want. I'm an investigative reporter in San Diego and recognized for my skill, but I've never had the chance to be in on the arrest of a known drug lord. Surely you won't interfere, this is my big chance."
Studying her, the detective asked, "How long since you ate, Miss Marble?"
"Why do you ask? I ate a Danish on the train."
"All the color has drained from your face. I suspect you're running on empty—"
"I'd planned to go to lunch as soon as I brushed my—"
"This bag switch has obviously unnerved you, unless you always talk this much. A cold drink loaded with caffeine should do the trick. What can I get you?"
"A regular Coke. Thanks."
"Give me your room key and don't open this door to anyone but me."
She moistened her lips. "Don't be long."
*****
C
arlo raced to the drink machine and returned with two chilled cans of soda.
Miss Marble hadn't budged.
He popped the lid on one can and held it out to her. "Drink this slowly. The high sugar content will go a long way toward steadying your nerves."
"I'm not—"
"You should be. Drink." He popped open his soda and swallowed half the contents before setting the can aside. "Feeling better?"
She smiled faintly. "Yes. I'm sorry to have acted like a dingbat. I'm not usually—"
"—the victim of a crime. I understand."
He waited until she shoved her empty can away to drop his next bombshell.
"I don't know how to soft-pedal this, Miss Marble, so I'll just come right out with it." Carlo steadily stared into her clear, blue eyes for a moment and quietly said, "In all likelihood you are in grave danger."
"How can that be? I had nothing to do with the switch."
"But you wound up with the money. Whoever made the switch is not going to live much longer unless he quickly recovers this."
"How can you be so sure?"
"It's my job. Arresting drug dealers is what I do. And to catch them in the act, I have to know what goes on in their heads."
"What if the owner had just robbed a bank?" she asked, fast becoming a thorn in his side.
"I watched the morning news while eating breakfast. No one reported a robbery. We may never know the source of this money. We do know someone did something illegal to obtain it or he wouldn't have been carrying around this much cash. We also know he didn't want to be caught with it."
"Oh."
"It wasn't his to give away. It belongs to someone farther along the chain, someone who carries a bigger gun and has a great deal of clout."
"So what will happen to him if he doesn't cough up the cash?"
Carlo narrowed his eyes at her and scratched his head. "Why are you so interested in the guy who made the switch?"
"Knowing the scoop about the switch and reporting it on Monday during my segment of the morning news is bound to lock in my next promotion, even though the switch and arrest happened here. The station manager has been dragging his feet on my promised promotion for months."
Scowling, he waggled his finger in her face. "I'm not letting you risk your life for some silly promotion."
Allison frowned. "Who put you in charge?"
"You did, when you called and asked for my help. Besides, I feel responsible for your safety. My sting operation is what forced the perp to switch bags with you. Even if it costs you a promotion, you're not risking your life on my watch."
"But if I can lure the perp out of hiding, I—"
"No. Right about now your culprit is getting desperate to get this money back. That means he will do anything to recover this bag."
She sucked in an aggravated breath. "But what if some business man—"
"—liked your sexy walk and gifted you with a hundred grand in hundred-dollar bills? Wrong again, Miss Marble. Any way I look at it, you're in over your head. I intend to use an experienced undercover cop to lure the perp out of hiding. You'll be miles away from this hotel when he's caught."
