Relatively Risky (13 page)

There was Nell.

There were the three wise geezers.

And Curly.

Hard to make the normal case with a mix like that.

Three dead bodies—nothing new to a homicide cop—and a shooting.

Did any of that have anything to do with Nell? Gut said not the bodies, conflicted on the shooting. Logic? It was wandering through the headache, looking for a way out. And the doubts kept pouncing. Night made the tired brain easy prey.

He'd underestimated her at least a couple of times. She was hard to understand. Easy to kiss. A woman, in fact. Didn't seem to matter that he was crap at picking women. Not that he'd picked—but he had kissed. He wanted to do it again.

His pacing brought him back in sight of the overnight bags Dad had brought over—without comment. Alex rubbed the back of his neck. Why hadn't he commented? Was it because of Curly? Or something else? Yeah, some cases were easy to remember. Or hard to forget. But he'd run the numbers last night. Thirty years ago his dad was still in a uniform. He and Curly weren't partners until Zach got promoted to detective. Now Curly might have been involved in the case. He was older than Zach.

Curly. He'd looked to be in the running for the role of Fourth Corpse. He might wish he'd got the role, if he had been involved in some sort of cover up. Had he screwed up or covered up? Alex was not sure he wanted to know. Department wasn't exactly squeaky clean in those days, so it wasn't a huge shock something had gone wrong. He paused at the foot of the stairs, his hand on the bannister. Looking up and wondering why it was so easy to believe that Curly might have done something not quite straight?

The shriek shattered all thoughts.

He leapt up two, maybe four steps at a time, rounded the landing, did the same for that set, and the one after that, and saw his brother sitting sheepishly near the top of the last set. Alex slowed enough to realize he was puffing pretty bad. Leaned on the bannister and looked the question he couldn't ask.

“I heard something moving up here and thought I'd better check, make sure Nell was all right. She popped out of the bathroom before I could warn her I was, you know, in the hall.”

“And?” Alex managed the single word.

“She didn't drop her towel or anything.” He grinned. “And she's fine. Real fine, big brother.”

Alex gave some thought to whether he'd caught enough breath to kick his ass. He decided not quite yet. Not just the stairs, but yesterday, all the body slams. His breathing was still iffy, though the pain report was in. All nerve endings were on duty, sending regular reports.

As if he knew, his brother grinned. “I don't think she knew we were guarding her rest, bro.” Something in Alex's face must have prompted a hasty rider to this comment. “I did explain, through the closed door.”

Alex sighed and started up the last flight. “I'll wait for her.” He jerked his head in the direction of down. Walking and talking was still on the tough side.

Ben looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it by the time Alex reached his stair. He might have eased past his brother with extra caution, or maybe he remembered what Alex had on him. Sometimes it didn't suck to be the oldest. None of them had changed his diaper.

Before he could decide to sit or not, he heard her coming. She rounded the corner and stopped, her eyes widening a bit, hair clinging damply to her head and face.

“I stayed, too,” he said, giving her a grin that felt crooked.

Her smile was a bit shy, maybe a little embarrassed. “Good morning.”

Was that a librarian thing, the prim greeting? Did they learn that in librarian school? Did they know how hot—

“You look—” he stopped. Was it bad to tell a woman she looked better? She'd donned long pants, probably to cover her banged up knees. Her tee shirt had
Bazinga
written across her chest. She looked fresh and clean. Smelled good, too.

She smiled. “I am better, thank you.” She shifted her shoulders. “Still a bit stiff. You?”

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned, then rubbed his rough chin. “Need a shower.”

“Don't you know where the bathroom is?”

He nodded. “I'll wait until Ben—”

The color that ran into her face was kind of cute.

“Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting—”

“He's sorry he startled you.”

She half smiled. “I kind of startled him, too.”

It was not the right time to remember what it had felt like, kissing her last night. Not when they were the same height, cuz he was on a lower stair—he gave a quick shrug and gestured down. “I think I smelled coffee on my way up.”

“Sarah has one of those pots that tell time.”

Nell stepped down, Alex turning when they were on the same step. He matched her descent to his, not sorry she took it slow. The silence was okay until she paused and looked at him.

“Am I putting Sarah in danger by being here?”

He didn't rush his answer, took his time before giving a shrug. “I have no idea, Nell. I wish I did.”

She turned, continued the descent.

“If you are, it's already done,” he added, to a silence not as okay as it had been.

A slight nod gave him a brief glimpse of her nape. “If I mess up her business—” her lips thinned. “I'd never forgive myself.”

More steps. More silence. Then…

“I've been thinking…”

Alex braced. A thinking woman was trouble about ninety percent of the time.

“…wondering, actually, if there was a way to see a picture of Phillip St. Cyr?” She paused, this time on the last landing, a slight flush in her cheeks, as if the question embarrassed her. “This all happened before the internet and all.”

The police file would have pictures. Might be tough to get at. The St. Cyrs would have photographs of Phillip, but they couldn't stroll up and ask to see them. But there had to be other sources.

“Some of the old newspaper files might be accessible online. We can check.”

Her smile was a bit tense, but grateful, too. “Thanks.”

His dad might know something. He preferred to keep his questions unofficial for now. Part of him wanted to throw Curly under the bus, part of him wondered if the old buzz killer's pension could be saved. Most of him wondered why he felt so uneasy about Curly's attitude toward Nell's mom, thirty plus years later.

“I did wonder…” she trailed off this time, her gaze a bit distant.

“So much news reporting has been digitized, it's possible there's a picture of him out there.”

She nodded, then her gaze moved past him. “Oh, there's my portfolio. I wondered where I'd left it.”

She sounded a bit odd, but bound to be off balance, after all that happened in twenty-four hours. Still shocked that it had only been one short day. It felt longer. A lot longer. He'd need to call in. Ask for leave. He watched Nell cross to her portfolio. She moved good, real good. Her feet were bare so it seemed she had no muse to answer yet. With any luck the muse would keep its mug shut until they sorted this out. She paused by the portfolio. He couldn't see her face with her head bent just enough to swing her hair forward over most of her face. Her shoulders moved in a slight sigh, then she picked it up and turned to face him. It seemed like her smile was a mite over bright, but she'd had a heck of a twenty-four hours.

“I think your sketch pad is still on the kitchen table,” he offered. And if he was lucky, some coffee. When they reached the kitchen, he found Sarah pouring some, his brother standing near her with a hip propped against the counter. They both turned as they entered.

Like Nell, Sarah wasn't dressed for business, in a pair of shorts that showed off her long legs. Her tee shirt was festooned with flowers and bling. He could thank his sisters that he knew about bling. And festooning. Sarah shot Nell a concerned look, but didn't comment as she sank into a chair, lay the portfolio on the table, and pulled her sketchbook toward her. Alex wasn't surprised when she flipped to the page of sketches that included St. Cyr. Was he her grandfather? She looked up, caught him watching and half shrugged, as if she'd caught his thought.

A cup in each hand, Sarah joined them at the table. Sarah set one in front of Alex and he muttered thanks. Sarah took the seat by Nell, her head tipped so she could study the drawings. Ben strolled over and grabbed a seat next to Alex.

“Creepy,” she said, into the silence.

“Yeah,” Nell agreed. “I was wondering if I could use your desktop to look—”

Sarah pulled out her smart phone, activated the screen and handed it to Nell. “That's Phillip St. Cyr. Not the best picture, but all I could find.”

A brief hesitation, before Nell took the phone. Nothing in Sarah's tone or face to tell if she knew the answer to the question. It seemed likely she'd met Nell's parents though, them being good friends and all. Nell stared at her friend for what felt like a long time, then lowered her gaze to the small screen. Alex exchanged a look with Ben while they waited for her to react. Again she surprised him by not. Okay, her shoulders might have got a tad straighter. Sara's hand covered Nell's free one.

“I'm sorry.”

Nell half shrugged. “They should have told me.” A sigh with a bit of a shudder to it, then she added in surprise, “I'm angry.”

Alex looked at Ben again. “Did I miss something?”

“Did
we
miss something?”

Nell pushed the phone toward him, waited while he picked it up, studied the handsome, somewhat willful face. Then looked at Nell, giving her an I-don't-get-it shrug.

“It looks like you have two missing wise kids.”

“Two? You mean that's—” he stopped.

“That's my father. Or at least a younger version of him.”

Sarah nodded agreement.

Ben stared at him. “So who—”

Alex was glad when he stopped. Time enough to wonder who had died in that car.

“They should have told me—warned me.”

“Maybe they meant to, Nell. It's not like they planned—” Sarah hesitated. “Are you sure they didn't leave any…clues?”

“Obviously I need to go through their stuff again.” She rubbed her face with her free hand. Alex must have looked curious. She added, “I have a couple of boxes in the attic.” She flipped the sketch pad closed and slipped it inside the portfolio.

Alex eyed that uneasily. Surely she wasn't thinking of leaving? Before he could protest, she slid her hand deeper into the depths, apparently feeling for something. She froze, her eyes widening a bit, then her hand emerged, with something clutched in her fist. She stared at her closed fist, sighed, then let her fingers flower open.

In her palm lay a ring. Heavy, gold, a signet with a sort of crest. And a single diamond winking at them like a baleful eye.

“Holy—” Ben cut off the swear word Alex had a feeling he'd been about to let out. “May I?”

Nell, wide-eyed, nodded. Ben took it from her as gingerly as if it were explosive.

“What's wrong?” Sarah asked. “Is that yours, Nell? I've never—”

Nell shook her head. “It's not mine.”

“It's St. Cyr's,” Ben said, examining with a look of near wonder. “I've seen pictures, but as far as I know, this is the first time it's been off his hand since Zafiro died.”

Of course Alex had heard the Zafiro stories. The old timers brought him up when one of them complained about their organized crime problem. If half of what they said was true, he made the three geezers look pretty good.

The two women exchanged puzzled looks.

“Zafiro is the guy our three wise geezers used to work for. He's the one who gave them their start. The story is that Zafiro groomed the three men, planning on one of them, the strongest, to take out the other two and take over for him.”

Alex snagged the ring from him, studying the crest with more interest.

“Everyone thought—” Ben continued, but paused

“
There could be only one
?” Nell's lips twisted wryly.

Ben grinned. “Exactly. But when Zafiro…died…”

Was murdered
, Alex amended.

“…they claimed he'd divided it between them. The proof was the rings. Zafiro used to have this huge—”

“Ring of power,” Sarah said, taking her turn.

“Maybe he saw the
Godfather
movie with all the ring kissing,” Alex said. Or he had a secret desire to be Pope. “Rumor has it that he liked the drama.” And the blood-letting.

“Well, they claimed he melted it down and made them each a ring from his, giving each of them authority over one-third. No one believed them. Zafiro liked a fight, the bloodier the better, but no one inside the organization actively complained. Or if they did, they didn't for long. Zafiro wasn't around to dispute the story and law enforcement couldn't prove they were lying, and were probably relieved the expected turf war didn't happen.”

Sarah took the ring from Alex and studied it, then handed it to Nell. “So they each have one exactly like this?”

“Except for the gem stones. Afoniki has an emerald. Calvino has a ruby. That's how I know this one is St. Cyr's.” He hesitated. “According to…the people who know this stuff…” Ben's gaze tracked reluctantly to Nell. “…this ring transfers power to the new…heir.”

Nell's eyes widened and she jerked, dropping the ring onto the table. It wobbled some, then settled there, winking at them like an evil eye.