Never Say Spy (13 page)

Once again, there was no discussion over where we would eat.  I hadn’t tried any of the town’s restaurants except the burger joint, so I was happy to go anywhere as long as it was far away from Sirius Dynamics.

When we entered Blue Eddy’s Saloon, Kane motioned me ahead and I selected a table in the corner near the exit, with a full view of the rest of the bar.  I sat with my back to the wall.  I didn’t see any point in pretending I was comfortable doing otherwise.

With a quirk of his mouth, Kane sat beside me, leaving Spider with his back to the room.  The young man shot us a knowing grin and sat without comment.

On a Sunday evening, only a couple of other tables were occupied.  A stage in the corner held a piano and a sign promising live music on Saturday nights, open jam on Thursdays.  Gritty blues music played in the background, and I settled into my chair.  This was as good as Kelly’s.

The bartender made his way over, apparently waiting tables as well as tending the bar on such a quiet evening.  “It’s been a while,” he greeted Kane.  “The usual?”

Kane shook his head.  “I’m working tonight.  Just club soda with lime.  Thanks, Eddy.”

“How about your friends?”

“I don’t drink,” Spider said.  “Coke for me, please.”

Eddy turned to me.  “Would you like a drink?”

“I would love a drink until death did us part.”  I beamed at him.  “Corona, please.  Oh, and a glass of water.  And a menu.  Thanks!”  He withdrew with a smile, and I turned to Kane.  “What’s good here?”

“I’ve never had anything bad.”

We’d only enjoyed the blues for a minute or two before Eddy returned with the drinks and the menus.  My bottle was ice-cold, and I squeezed the lime down into the beer and took a long swallow.

“Thank God,” I breathed, and opened the menu.  It offered the usual pub grub, and I decided on hot wings, potato skins, and a Caesar salad.

Closing the menu, I tipped up my beer again, lowering the level past the bottle’s shoulders.  I let out a long sigh and slid down in my chair, stretching my legs out.

Spider shot me a grin.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone enjoy a beer quite that much.”

“You’ve probably never seen anyone who needed a beer quite this much,” I replied, slugging back another swallow.  “Besides, for once in my life, I’m not driving, so I can actually have a beer.  This is a treat.”

“So why the water?” he teased.

“Slows me down between beers.”

Eddy arrived to take our food orders.  After he left, Spider was silent for once, evidently deep in thought.  I sat enjoying the music, and I caught myself swaying my shoulders to the beat.  I looked over to see Kane’s fingers tapping along with the music, too, and we exchanged a small smile.

“Blues fan?” he asked.

“Yep.”

The food arrived promptly, and Eddy raised an eyebrow at my empty bottle.  “Dead already?”

“Yes, it was a brief but passionate relationship,” I assured him.

“Another?”

“Yes, please.”

I dug into my food with a rapturous moan.  The wings were hot but not suicidally spicy, the potato skins loaded with cheese, the salad fresh and crisp.  By the time Eddy returned with my beer, the chicken bones were already piling up, and the beer quenched the fire in my mouth.

Eddy lingered, apparently killing time.  “Slow night.”

“Not quite as busy as Thursdays and Saturdays,” Kane agreed.

“So you’re working late on a Sunday.  What do you do, anyway, John?”

“Energy consultant,” Kane said.  “You know these oil and gas companies, you sign the contract and they think they own you.”

Now that was interesting.  Why would he lie?

Eddy turned to me, extending his hand.  “I haven’t seen you around here before.  I’m Eddy Carlson, but you can call me Blue Eddy.  Everybody else does.”

I wiped the wing sauce off my fingers and accepted the handshake.  “Hi, Eddy.  I’m Aydan Kelly, but tonight you can call me Hungry and Thirsty.”

Eddy chuckled.  “I can see that.  Where do you put all that food?”

I grinned at him and slapped my belly.  “Right here.”

“And what do you do for a living, Hungry Aydan?”

“I’m a bookkeeper.”

“No, really?”  Eddy’s eyes widened.  “Are you taking new clients?”

“Actually, I just moved here so I’m actively looking for new clients.”

“This is my lucky day!” Eddy crowed.  “Yesss!  When can you start?”

I smiled at his enthusiasm.  “Are you sure you don’t want to get some of my references, maybe talk about the software I use or something?”

“Hungry Aydan, I don’t care if you count on your fingers.  I’m desperate.  Can you come tomorrow morning?”

I laughed.  “Why so desperate?  Maybe I should ask for
your
references.  What’s wrong?”

“My bookkeeper moved away three months ago.  There’s another lady in town who does bookkeeping, but she won’t do mine, so I’ve been doing it myself.  I’m no good at it, and I hate it.”

I felt a moment of misgiving.  “Why won’t the other bookkeeper do your books?”

Eddy frowned.  “She’s a nice lady, but she’s very religious.  She didn’t try to stuff the Bible up my nose or anything, she just said she didn’t feel right doing books for a business that she didn’t believe glorified the Lord.”

I eyed him, straight-faced.  “I have some strong religious convictions myself,” I said, watching his face sober.  I started grinning as I quoted Ben Franklin.  “I believe beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”

Eddy roared with laughter.  “Then we’re going to get along just fine!  Can you come tomorrow morning around ten-thirty?”

“I’ll be here,” I assured him.

As I turned back to my food, two men entered the bar.  They stood near the entrance, scanning the room before heading for our table.  Kane nodded to them as they approached.

“Wheeler, Germain,” he greeted them.  “Join us?”

The tall, blond man he’d addressed as Wheeler shook his head.  “No, we ate on the road.”

Wheeler was handsome and thirty-ish, well-groomed and clean-shaven.  He wore an expensive-looking brown leather coat over perfectly tailored slacks and a sweater.  As he moved closer, I caught a whiff of subtle cologne.

His partner, Germain, was very dark, almost as wide as he was tall.  He wasn’t fat, just broad and solid, about my height.  He wore a scuffed black leather jacket over a plain black T-shirt and cargo pants.  His five o’clock shadow looked about ten hours past due.  Crisp black curls brushed his ears and forehead, emphasizing black brows and keen brown eyes.  I couldn’t estimate his age.  Somewhere over thirty and under fifty.  Something made me want to like him immediately.  Maybe it was the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.  I was a sucker for those.

Kane had those sexy laugh lines, too.  I studied his face surreptitiously while he conversed with the two men.

“Searches on Ms. Kelly’s car and her house in Calgary came up empty,” Wheeler reported.  “Richardson called me about an hour ago to let me know, said he couldn’t reach you.”

Kane nodded.  “We were in Sirius.”

I stored that information away for future reference.  Apparently Sirius blocked cell phones.  That explained why everyone used the land line there.  And Sandler had referred to DND.  Department of National Defence.  Hmmm.

“We also retrieved Ms. Kelly’s smartphone,” Wheeler added, handing it to Kane.  “We’ve been through it, it’s clean.  Her car should be released on Tuesday.”

“You two might as well get started then,” Kane said.  “Wheeler, you can search Ramos’s place.  It’s just an apartment, so it shouldn’t take too long.  You can head out to Ms. Kelly’s farm as soon as you’re done.  Germain, you can ride with us out to Ms. Kelly’s place.”

Both men nodded, and Wheeler left.  Germain slid into the chair beside Spider, seemingly unconcerned about exposing his back to the door.

“You’re not really planning to search my whole place tonight, are you?” I asked.  Germain’s eyebrows went up.

“Germain, this is Aydan Kelly.  Aydan, Carl Germain,” Kane said.

Germain’s sharp eyes took in our food and my beer.  He frowned.

“Ms. Kelly’s status is unclear in this,” Kane told him.  “Earlier in the day, I had reason to believe that she was spying at Sirius.  Now I’m not sure.  We’re going ahead with the searches so that we can gather as much information as possible.”

 “If you have to get this search done tonight, it’s going to be a long night,” I said.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s a farm.  A hundred and sixty acres.  A house.  A garage.  A workshop.  Sheds.”

“We’ll get the house done tonight,” Kane said.  “We’ll see how that goes, and decide from there.”

I sighed.  “Well, I guess I had to unpack those boxes sometime.”

We drove down the dark road in silence, listening to the crunch of gravel under the tires.  At my gate, I gave Kane the combination and he got out and opened the padlock, leaving it dummy-locked behind us so that Wheeler could get in later.  I handed over the keys to my house, and Kane punched in the security code I gave him.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked.

“I want you to sit at the table without touching anything,” he said.  “We’ll carry on from here.”

“Do you want the password for my computer?”

“That would help.  Give it to Webb.”

I perched on the edge of a dining room chair, determinedly suppressing the urge to jiggle my knee while I watched.  Spider went directly to my office, where I had no doubt he’d turn my computer inside out in short order.  Kane and Germain split up and began to search the main level thoroughly and efficiently.

I sighed as they began to open boxes and spread the contents systematically across the floor.  I had my work cut out for me to get everything put away afterward, assuming they didn’t find anything that made them arrest me on the spot.

Another sigh escaped me, and I smoothed down the tattered cuticle I’d been picking despite my best effort to appear calm and composed.  God, what would they find to incriminate me?  As far as I knew there shouldn’t be anything suspicious in the house, but I hadn’t known I was a spy until a few hours ago, either.

I swallowed and clasped my hands together.  Do not fidget.

Spider emerged from my office.  “Computer’s clean.  Nothing in the paper files, either.”

“Fine,” Kane replied.  “You can start in the basement, then.”

Spider descended the stairs and disappeared from view.  Kane moved into my bedroom, and I wondered if police officers got an illicit thrill from pawing through women’s underwear drawers.  Probably not, I decided.  It was probably as routine to them as flipping through the pages of a well-read book.

Kane emerged, raising a questioning eyebrow.  “Why is there a crowbar under your pillow?”

There was no way I was going to admit to the intent of bashing somebody in the head.  “As you can see, I’m working on my bathroom.  I probably just put it down and forgot about it.”

“It was under the pillow, and the bed was made.”

I gazed up at him, keeping my expression as bland as possible.  “I’m absent-minded like that sometimes.”

“Well, now you know where it is.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Spider’s strained voice floated upstairs.  “Kane!  I found ammo!”

Kane’s voice was expressionless, his gaze steady on me.  “Bring it up.”

Spider came up bearing my box of ammunition, which he placed on the table in front of me.

“That’s a lot of ammo,” Kane said, beginning to lift out boxes.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”  He began to lay it all out on the table, organized by type.  “Where are your guns?”

“In the gun locker under the stairs.  Legally stored and registered.  I store the ammo separately.  I have a possession-only license, in the lockbox under the stairs.  The keys to the gun locker and lockbox are on my keychain.”  I handed him my keys again.

He disappeared down the stairs, returning with my license and guns.  “Check these,” he said, handing the license to Spider, who nodded and headed for my office again.

“Nice guns,” Kane said.  “Why do you have them?”

“The .22 is just for target practice.  The .410 is for trap shooting.  The 12-gauge and the .22-250 are in case I need to kill a rabid skunk or something.”

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I don’t like killing animals.  I just like target shooting.”

Spider returned and gave me a reassuring smile.  “All checked out.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as unobtrusively as I could.

“Good, we’ll put these back where we found them,” Kane said, and took everything downstairs again.  Spider followed him, and Germain resumed his search on the main level.

A few minutes later, Kane was back, this time carrying my bow case.  “Well armed, aren’t you?”

I sighed again, then internally berated myself for sighing so much.  Fake calm, dammit.

“It’s a target bow,” I explained, showing him the shiny, blue anodized bow and arrows.  “Look at the length of that stabilizer.  It’s not exactly a stealthy weapon.”

Germain came over.  “I’ve seen these compounds do some serious damage.  They’ll shoot 90 metres no problem, and I once saw an arrow go right through a bulletproof vest.”

I shuddered.  “I hope there was nobody in the vest at the time.”

“No.  It was draped over a plywood chair.  The arrow went through the vest, through the plywood, and came out the back of the vest.”

“That must have been some pretty high poundage,” I said.  “And if they used a broadhead, it would cut through Kevlar like a hot knife through butter.  Mine is only set up for a forty-pound draw weight, and I don’t have any broadheads, just practice points.  I’m just a target shooter.”

“You have answers for everything, don’t you?” Kane asked.

“Innocent people generally do,” I responded, keeping my voice level.  “If you don’t believe me, keep looking.  You should find my target medals in one of those boxes.”

“So that’s what those were,” Germain said, turning back to the boxes.  He picked his way through the clutter and came up with a handful of ribbons and medals.

Kane examined them briefly before turning to me.  “Any other weapons you want to explain away before we find them?  Some throwing knives?  A garrotte?  Maybe a small grenade launcher?”

“Very funny.  The only other things you’ll find will be a couple of hunting knives.  Oh, and a machete.  Don’t give me a hard time about that, I use it for chopping up stuff for my compost bin.”

The corner of his mouth quirked.  “Right.  Why didn’t I think of that?”

I said nothing and he turned away, carrying the case back down the stairs.  After another half hour of faking serenity, I begged for a book and forced myself to lean back in the chair, my eyes scanning the lines while my brain steadfastly refused to absorb the story.

Germain finished on the main floor and joined the other two in the basement.  At least they didn’t seem to consider me a threat so far.

At last, they emerged from the basement, empty-handed.  “Well, that’s the house done, anyway,” Germain said cheerfully.

“Can I move around and start cleaning up now?” I asked.

Kane nodded permission.  “We’ll start on the garage next.”

“Maybe I’d better come out to supervise,” I said, feeling relieved enough to joke a little.  “I don’t trust just anybody with my Corvette, you know.”

Kane seemed to have relaxed, too, and he gave me a half-smile.  “You can come along if you want to sit in the empty bay and read your book.”

Germain gave Kane a sharp-eyed glance.  “Have you been here before?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Kane replied.  “I’ve been in a simulation of the garage.”  Germain’s eyebrows rose, and Kane went on, “I’ll give you and Wheeler a full briefing tomorrow.”

We were donning our jackets when the doorbell sounded, and Kane opened the door to Wheeler.  Wheeler’s fair cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparkling.  He grinned broadly, reached into his coat pocket, and wordlessly pulled out a Sirius Dynamics security fob.

Spider pounced on it.  “Ooh, I can hardly wait to open this up and see what’s inside,” he crooned.

Kane grinned, too.  “Let’s go roust out Sandler and Smith.  Wheeler, Germain, can you finish the buildings here tonight?”

“It’ll be a long night, but we can split it,” Germain replied.

“Good, do it.”  Kane and Spider turned and left.

Germain turned to Wheeler.  “Flip you for the first shift.”

“Tails.”

Germain flipped the coin.  “Looks like I get the first shift.  Go get some sleep, and trade me off around two.”  Wheeler nodded and headed for the door.  Germain turned to me with a grin.  “Let’s go have a look at that ‘Vette.”