The Red Hot Fix (32 page)

Mort wondered if Pierce held to the same social isolation as Reinhart Vogel. Was there anyone beyond his mother who could support him in his grief? Despite the Stinsons’ endless wealth, he felt sorry for him. He stood and offered a handshake.

“Thanks for taking the time. I told your mother I’d keep her up to speed on our investigation. I’m offering you the same. You have any questions, or if there’s anything I should know, call me.”

Mort waved to the receptionist on the way out. He was halfway down the stairs when a tight-bodied redhead wearing a deep purple jogging suit called his name from several steps below. She hurried her pace and stopped one step below him. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that horrible grilling you gave me?” Her broad smile indicated she held no grudges.

“Good morning, Felicia. You look chipper.”

“Well, it’s a lovely morning. I’m on my way to sign some papers that will make me a very rich girl. If that doesn’t deserve chipper, I don’t know what does.”

Mort nodded at two employees climbing the stairs and waited for them to pass. “Now, Felicia.” He kept his tone as playful as hers. “Picking the bones of the dead? You don’t strike me as someone who’d go after the wallet of the married man she’d been sleeping with. No matter how wealthy he was.”

She wrinkled her upturned nose and smoothed his collar, letting her hand linger a heartbeat longer than necessary. “And you don’t strike me as a man who’d be as mean to me as you were at the station.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Not unless I
wanted
you to, of course.”

He pulled back. She laughed. There was nothing uglier than a gorgeous woman who used her beauty to manipulate. They all thought they were special, but Mort knew a dime a dozen was too high a price.

“Relax, Detective.” Felicia geared down several notches and shifted to bragging. “I don’t have to pick anyone’s pockets. Fit with Felicia is a gold mine. Reinhart let his arrogance get in the way of business. Pierce is smarter than that.” She brushed a hand under her hair and released a crimson cascade across her shoulders. “In six months I’ll be on every prime-time talk show, teaching America how to beat the middle-aged spread. Chicago’s just the beginning.”

It never ceased to amaze Mort how narcissists assumed everyone knew every detail of their self-assessed-as-fascinating lives. He didn’t know what she alluded to, but bluffed and hoped she’d bite. “Big plans?”

Felicia nodded. “Carved in stone and upstairs awaiting my Jane Hancock. I learned my lesson with Reinhart. I’m not trusting anything to promises. As soon as Pierce said we were back on, I got myself a lawyer. She cooked up a no-backing-out contract.”

“Well, I better let you get to it, then.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “Go get rich and I’ll tell everyone I knew you when.”

She wiggled her hips and scooted past him, saying something about getting together for lunch sometime. Mort hurried down the stairs. He waited until he was out on the street to call Micki.

He had another dig job for her.

The final coroner’s report greeted Mort back at the office. Doc Conner ruled Vogel’s death was the result of a blow to his left temporal lobe somewhere between 6:30 and 7:00 p.m. Tox screens showed Vogel had no alcohol or drugs in his system when he died.

He pulled the X-ray of Vogel’s head and traced a finger around the shattered area of skull. Relatively small, about the size of a large walnut. The damage suggested something round, heavy, and pointed. A knock on his office door interrupted his speculation as to possible weapons. He looked up and his heartbeat quickened.

“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed …” Charlotte smiled and waited for Mort to wave her in. “I hope I’m welcome.”

He slipped the X-ray back into the folder. “Of course you are. Please, sit down.” Mort flashed to sixth grade when pretty little Lissa Morgenstern caught him staring when he should have been studying dividing fractions. He recalled feeling trapped and ashamed.

He felt the same way now.

“No time to sit. I’m running errands and wanted to speak with you before I left.” Charlotte wore a sweater that made Mort think of blueberries and cream.

“I should have called, I know. Charlotte, it’s this case. It’s …”

She rescued him before any excuse embarrassed them both. “We’re both busy.” The look in her eyes told him she hadn’t forgotten their kiss.

“Listen, Charlotte. I’m sorry. About the other night, about not calling. About a lot of things.” He shook his head clear. “Wait a minute. You said you wanted to talk to me before you left. Where are you going?”

“Washington, D.C.” She checked her watch. “My flight leaves in just over two hours. I wanted to make sure I said goodbye.”

The way she said “goodbye” tugged at his gut. He stepped closer and took her hands in his. “How long will you be gone?”

She squeezed his fingers gently before pulling her hands free. “My board of directors has been after me for months to open an office in D.C. We need to be close to where policy is formed. Get familiar with the players.”

“So you’re scouting office space. Any chance you’ll be back by next weekend?”

Charlotte hesitated and Mort knew he wasn’t going to like what was coming. “I’ve set up several meetings. I’ve also agreed to do some speaking engagements with local groups in
Virginia and Maryland.” She looked away. “I really don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Mort closed his office door. He leaned against it, hoping on some level he could keep her in his life by the sheer weight of his body against the exit. “Listen, Charlotte. I know I could have handled that whole kiss thing better.”

She raised her eyes and her warmth radiated across the room to caress his face. “You’re still in love with Edie.” She paused. “You’ll be ready to move forward someday. But it’s not going to happen now. I don’t want to invest myself … my heart … in something that’s doomed simply because the timing’s wrong. I have a strong feeling you and I could be terrific. Let’s not ruin it by forcing it.”

He stepped toward her. Words of protest formed, only to be silenced by the wisdom of his heart. She was right. And too smart to be talked into something they both knew was wrong.

“We’ll stay in touch?”

She reached a soft hand to his cheek. “I’m not changing my number.” She pulled her hand away and let her voice grow light. “And until the Crystal closes, I’ll know where you are every Thursday at five-thirty.”

He wished he could meet Charlotte’s jovial tone. “Give ’em hell in D.C.” He wanted to kiss her. Seal that promise of greatness Charlotte felt awaited them. But Micki, Jimmy, and Bruiser’s boisterous entry stopped him.

“Hey, Charlotte.” Jimmy stepped in front of Mort and gave her a hug.

Charlotte shared small talk with Micki and Jimmy and bent down to give Bruiser a long embrace. She made a show of the time and fretted the plane would leave without her. She gave one last look to Mort and hurried out of the office, promising them all she’d see them soon.

Mort kept his eyes on her until she turned the far corner of the building.

“Whoa. We didn’t scare her off, did we?” Jimmy tossed his notebook on the table and took a seat. “Looked like we interrupted a moment.”

Micki took a seat beside Jimmy, and Bruiser settled down by the door. Mort stood watching the empty hall.

“Mort.” Micki’s voice was gentle. “Come see what we’ve got. You’re gonna like it.”

Edie always teased him his romance bone was wrapped in arthritis. Mort promised himself if he ever got another chance with Charlotte, he’d exercise it more. He grabbed his notebook and sat down with his team.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Whaddya want first?” Jimmy asked. “Trixie or the latest from the No Fly Zone?”

Mort wanted to focus on Vogel’s case, but his gut told him to keep an eye on Trixie. “What’s the latest with our gal in the slammer?”

Jimmy flipped a few pages. “She’s keeping them hopping, that’s for sure. She’s burned
through four lawyers in less than two days.”

Mort frowned. “I thought David Jonnell was itching to defend her. Pro bono. His retainers typically start at six figures. Why’d she turn down the free services of such a hot shot?”

“Beats the hell outta me, but she did. Told the judge she couldn’t work with the next three he offered, either. But when Judy Knoll showed up, Trixie took an immediate shine and told the judge she’d found her lawyer.”

Mort scanned his memory. “Never heard of her. Who’s she with?”

“Second-year associate with Gray, Simons, and Henson,” Jimmy said. “I checked her out. Did a nice job getting a guy off a burglary with concealed carry a couple of months ago, but not much trial work beyond that.”

“Trixie’s facing life here and Texas is breathing down her neck with a death penalty,” Micki said. “Why’d she go with a newbie?”

“Maybe she thinks a greenhorn will buy whatever sob story she’s selling. Hell, they’re close enough in age to be sisters,” Jimmy said. “Maybe it’s a chick thing. I’ve noticed you women tend to stick together when things get tough.”

“That’s because we’re usually circling the wagons against Y chromosomes,” Micki said.

Mort wasn’t buying it. Every move Trixie made was brilliantly calculated. “She’s thinking of her appeal. Use a lawyer unfamiliar with murder cases. Sit back and let the rookie make a few mistakes. Tie the whole case up in appeal for years. Sitting in jail beats rotting in prison.”

Micki nodded. “And it keeps Texas’s hands off her while it grinds through the process.”

“All the more reason we need her case carved in granite.” Mort’s radar was urging him to stay alert. “All our evidence tight? Blood work? Fibers?”

“We got her, Mort. Stop worrying,” Jimmy said.

“Maybe.” Mort sensed something. “Let’s not get lazy.”

Micki’s chin jerked up. “Name the last time we did.”

He’d managed to offend another important woman in his life. “Micki, I’m sorry. It’s not you guys. It’s Trixie.”

“Like Jimmy said, we got her,” Micki said. “Now let’s move on to the case we haven’t sewn up yet.”

“I like the sound of ‘yet.’ ” Mort flipped his notepad open and poised his pen. “Jimmy, go.”

“I looked into whazzup at the No Fly. Man, that’s a rough joint.” Jimmy nodded to the sleeping dog by the door. “Bruiser bought me some cred. The lineup on the barstools is one-stop shopping from the bad-seed catalogue. If I was looking for someone to do a hit, the No Fly Zone would be my first stop.”

“Anybody give you a thread?” Mort asked.

“Only words spoken to me was when the bartender asked if I needed change for the twenty I laid down for my beer. I was plainclothes, too. Tried to make friends with the locals, but nobody had a peep. Went back a second time, figured different shift, different staff, different customers. Didn’t even get asked about change that time.”

Mort knew his friend wouldn’t let a stone wall stop him. “So then what?”

Jimmy smiled. “I paid a visit to the car service LBJ used. The counter folks tried to give me some boogie-woogie about confidentiality. I pointed out some violations of carriage code and promised to have an inspector from the Department of Licensing stop by to make sure they were in compliance. They opened up after that. Turns out LionEl’s tubby little agent uses their service on a daily basis.” Jimmy gave a baffled look. “What’s so tough about driving? You get in a car, put the shift in D, and step on the gas. Anyway, I get a list of guys who’ve chauffeured Captain Lard Ass around town and paid them a visit. Turns out the No Fly Zone is a popular destination for LBJ. At least six times he had LionEl with him. Only one driver put Barry Gardener at the No Fly. But it was on the day Vogel was hit.”

“It’s worth a follow-up.” Mort turned to Micki. “You learn anything about Felicia’s allusion to some sort of Chicago deal?”

“Never underestimate the power a piece of juicy gossip. Turns out Vogel’s affair with Felicia wasn’t a well-kept secret around Rainy Day.”

“They never are. Workplace romances are why unions demand coffee breaks.” Jimmy leaned in, ready to hear more.

“I spoke with a couple of women. Got mostly concern about Mrs. Vogel. No one had much good to say about Felicia.”

Mort recalled her performance during her interview and her flirting on the staircase. “She’s easy to understand once you get Felicia is all about Felicia.”

“Turns out there was more than a lover’s spat,” Micki told them. “Reinhart tossed Felicia out on her ear.”

“We knew that already,” Jimmy said. “Even talked to the guys who moved her pretty little butt out of the love nest.”

“Something else was cooking,” Micki said. “I talked to a woman in marketing. Reinhart called her the day before he died. Put her on alert there might be a major communication that needed to go out concerning the safety of Fit with Felicia products. Called her back a couple of minutes later saying it turned out to be a false alarm.”

“Sounds like an ultimatum and somebody blinked.” Mort wondered if Felicia was threatening to expose the affair. “Felicia told me Chicago was back on. What’s up with that?”

Micki pulled a folder out of her briefcase. “That’s been the bulk of my morning.” She
handed Mort the file. “Rainy Day was set to open a store in Chicago.”