The Throwbacks (14 page)

“Thank you. I agree. I must not be as strong-willed as I used to be. Because sending her away is going to be a hell of lot worse than taking bad-tasting medicine. To use a medical metaphor, it’ll be more on the order of having a finger amputated. All for a good cause, I’m sure.” He poured himself another shot of Scotch and drank it down.

Dan watched and sipped his.

“On the bright side, I’ll be taking a lovely woman on an evening out tomorrow night. I’m ready to turn the page.” David slapped his friend on the shoulder.

“First you’ll be going to New York to talk to the gallery manager there tomorrow. We’ll call this Peruvian official to make an appointment for when we get back—what’s his name?” Dan stood.

“Mateo. Inspector Rodolfo Mateo.” David handed Dan a piece of paper with the name and number on it. “Maybe we can wrap up the case before I go on my short and exciting trip to London.” David picked up the bottle of Scotch and put it in an otherwise empty cabinet. If he wasn’t going to a restaurant for dinner, he should probably buy some groceries.

The only problem was he had no idea where to go or what to buy or how to cook. He shouldn’t have, but he thought of Grace then. She would laugh in amusement at his ineptness and then patiently tutor him. He would love every minute of it and become a fabulous cook in the end. And they would dine together every night…

Until she wanted children. His helpless ignorance about cooking paled in comparison to his ignorance about raising children—and those mistakes held far more consequence than burning a few roasts. The terrifying thought wiped out all previous blissful thoughts like a tidal wave crashing over a sandcastle.

D
AVID followed Dan into his office, closed the door behind him and sat in one of the two serviceable guest chairs.

“I don’t know what’s going on with this gallery manager. I hate to send you all the way down to New York and not be able to find him.” Dan sat behind his desk and picked up his phone. “I’ll call Nick and see what he’s found out.”

David turned to the door as it opened and Nick walked into the office.

Dan slammed his phone down. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in hiding at the loft?”

Nick nodded at David and sauntered over to the other chair. “I couldn’t stand it another minute—besides, I have some news.”

“Let me guess, you can’t get a hold of the gallery manager in NYC?” David pre-empted Dan for the fun of it.

“Right. I had a friend go to the gallery and it was shut down. Turns out the guy’s not at his home either.”

“That’s just great.” Dan looked at David. “We can cancel your road trip. It’s too bad. I was hoping we’d make some progress on this before you leave for London.”

“Don’t worry. We still have the Peruvian inspector,” David reminded his friend.

“What? What about Peru?” Nick leaned forward with interest. Dan updated him on their visit with Dr. Doris.

“We should probably call in I.C.E. before we call Mateo. To be polite. They’ll probably let us handle it,” David said as he picked up the plastic bag with the copper to have another close look at it.

“You haven’t called I.C.E. yet?” Nick sounded excited. He grinned at Dan.

“No.” Dan looked at David. “Do you have a contact there?”

“Yes, I’ll give you his number.”

Dan’s office phone rang then. “Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

“Don’t tell him I’m here.” Nick sat on the edge of his chair. David liked the young chap, but he seemed to always be on edge.

“Nick? He’s right here,” Dan said. He looked at Nick with an evil smile. “The mayor has politely suggested that you return to the loft to protect Theresa and Rick.”

Nick sat back down and flipped Dan a finger.

“I’ll put you on speaker phone,” Dan told his boss. He pressed a button and put the receiver down.

“So how is this case going? Any more good leads? Update me.”

“The New York City gallery manager has disappeared. Nick will follow up on that for us. We got the name of an official from Peru, Mateo, who might know something about the artifacts from that end. David is going to call I.C.E. in on the case before we call Mateo,” Dan said.

“Who’s I.C.E.?”

“Immigration & Customs Enforcement or ICE,” David enlightened the mayor with a quirk of a smile for Nick and Dan.

“Do we have any idea who these smugglers are?”

“The Peruvian Inspector Mateo supposedly has a name for us—a missing treasure hunter,” David cut in. “I’m going to follow up again with the local gallery manager, Lester Lump. I’ll see if I can get some names of suppliers and some local warehouse locations to check out.”

“I’ll look into getting search warrants,” Dan put in.

“Good plan, but remember the days are dwindling. I don’t want them making any more attempts to get that vase back. These people have already proven that they’d resort to violence.” The mayor signed off.

Dan made a swiping-his-brow gesture and Nick snickered.

“The mayor may be a tad self-important, but he’s right about one thing. The perps are dangerous,” David said.

“I’ll echo that. My ribs are still sore.” Nick stretched and winced.

“Then don’t you think you should be getting back to your brother and his fiancée?” Dan pointed out.

Nick finally left. After he called I.C.E. and filled them in, Dan picked up the phone again, tapped out some numbers and put it on the speaker. David was starting to feel like not much more than an observer.

“Are you sure I’m the lead detective on this case? All I seem to be doing is watching you have all the fun.” They listened to the phone ring on the other end. Someone answered in Spanish.

After twiddling his thumbs while listening to Dan’s tedious conversation, he had to comment. “You do realize that it took ten minutes to find out that our man won’t be available until later this evening.”

“We’ll need a translator for that conversation, it looks like.” Dan hung up the phone and gave him a thoughtful look that turned into a grin.

David knew instantly what he was thinking. “You can’t be serious—there are already enough outsiders involved in this case.”

“Don’t worry. Better an outsider who’s clueless than another person inside the department who’s going to ask questions and expect answers that make sense. Frenchie speaks Spanish too—very well. She’s been to South America at least three times.”

David shook his head as his investigation veered off course yet again.

“I see the advantage. Frenchie won’t have any idea about the connection to the murder.”

“Then it’s done. I’ll arrange for Frenchie to translate when we call Mateo tonight.” Dan picked up his phone and tapped out a number.

“And on that note, I’ll take my leave. I’ll follow-up with I.C.E. later this afternoon to see if they have anything for us. See you at six.” David got up and headed for the door. He heard Dan greet his wife as he closed the door behind him and felt a jolt of melancholy. He shook off his wistfulness and moved on.

It was about four o’clock when Grace arrived to pick him up and take him to the decorating center as planned. He hadn’t called her to cancel because ending their liaison—even though technically it hadn’t started—was something that had to be done in person. She was a delicate and lovely woman and he knew she would take it hard, but bravely. He wanted to minimize any hurt if he could.

“Grace, you look stunning as usual,” he said upon opening his door. And she did look stunning dressed in black and white from the wide-brimmed, frothy hat down to the patent leather high-heels. The outfit emphasized her curvy figure unfairly and showed off her creamy complexion and short blond curls. He took a deep breath. “Please come in. I’d like to have a talk with you, if you don’t mind?”

She checked her watch and took him by the arm.

“How about if we talk on the way—we’re running a little late for our appointment. I had a little problem getting the hat just right. I know you must think I’m dressed more for the Kentucky Derby than work, but you don’t know the design center. It’s filled with designers.” She hurried him to her car. She ran around and got in the driver’s side—the car was still running.

He could do nothing but smile and go along. He’d have to have their talk at the end of their appointment. He looked forward suddenly to spending this extra hour with her. He figured she’d have to turn his decorating over to someone else at the firm and they could pick up wherever she left off after their design center visit.

“I’m intrigued, but from the sounds of it I’m afraid I’ll stand out as decidedly unfashionable,” he said cheerfully as he sat in her passenger seat. It was adjusted exactly as he’d left it the last time she drove him somewhere, and that thought comforted him and stabbed him with regret at the same time.

“Don’t worry—everyone knows, or will know you’re my client. I’m so excited to show you off—a real live ex-Scotland Yard detective! I have to confess, you are the real reason I took extra time and care to dress up today. I wanted you to be stunned by me,” she turned to him with her gorgeous wide brown eyes and an earnestness that squeezed his heart. Luckily they were at a stoplight. He was having trouble coming up with a response that wasn’t a lie to her or to himself.

“You succeeded. I’ll say the same thing that I said when we first met—you couldn’t possibly make anything but a stunning impression.”

He watched her face warm and her smile melt and felt the melting inside him too. It was going to be goddamn difficult to send her away.

“So what made you decide to be a decorator—besides your obvious talent? You could have done most anything, I think.” He shouldn’t have added the last since he was endeavoring to be neutral, but it was too damned hard.

“I realized it’s mostly a man’s world out there, and I’m too female to fit in.” She had an earnest frown on her face. He raised his brows and stifled his grin.

“But in the design world I fit in magnificently,” she added with a satisfied smile.

“I can see why,” he quipped without saying why. Predictably she bopped his arm and her lone dimple appeared. Exactly what he wanted to see, he realized. Then she sighed.

“Pixie says that’s a big reason why I haven’t found Mr. Right. Not too many men in this business.” Then she stopped and caught her breath, looking at him with her expressive brown eyes opened wide as if she’d said too much. But it wasn’t her words that spoke volumes. He had to put a stop to this soon.

“Take heart—remember that old Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie? But that’s right, I doubt you’ve even heard of them. They’re well before your time.”

“I know the movie—where Doris Day plays a decorator and Rock Hudson is her client. It’s called
Pillow Talk
and I loved it.” She beamed.

“My god, I believe you are a throwback.” He realized he wasn’t even mildly surprised.

She laughed, but didn’t comment. He wasn’t sure she knew what he meant by “throwback,” but it didn’t matter. Doubt fogged the edges of his mind as he wondered if maybe he was about to make a mistake. Or more precisely, another mistake in a long line of them in his personal life.

He shook it off.

When they arrived at the design center and he escorted her to the door, touching her at the small of her back and trying not to be too possessive when every cell in him wanted to have his arm around her and be whispering intimately in her ear, he was no closer to his goal of sending her away. In fact, he was even less disposed to do so. He felt more like he would be cutting off his entire hand instead of a mere finger.