The Throwbacks (24 page)

David thought of Grace and his first inclination was to smile. He must be daft. “I know. She needs a keeper.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for her until you get back.”

“I’m relying on that.” David had no choice. “Did you check with I.C.E. on the information Oscar gave us?” David asked in a return-to-business tone. Roland ordered them another round but switched them to beer in true lawyerly fashion.

“They’ll get back to us. They mostly asked me a lot of questions about you and your connection to the case,” Dan said. “I’m counting on you to crack it.”

“I am indispensable after all. I contacted an Interpol friend and they gave me the same name as Oscar did—international football—soccer—star, apparently. Interpol says they’ve been trying to get something solid on him for years, but he’s untouchable and unpredictable—and suspected of killing or hiring locals to kill several key people—potential witnesses.”

“Sounds like a swell guy. Guess money and fame aren’t enough for him. Any idea where he is now?”

“Oscar said he’s going to take care of finding him. Since I was leaving town, I wasn’t in a position to turn down the offer. I’ll check in with you as soon as I get off the plane—first thing in the morning your time.”

“I’ll be waiting. I’m also lining up a celebration dinner for the settlement of your estate and the rest of the hoopla. Who cares what the in-laws dug up? Having it over will be good enough,” Dan said.

“I believe you’re right.” David smiled to himself. Roland and the bartender had slowed down their drink refills, he noticed, and it was a good thing or he might not even make it to the door, never mind the airport. “I think being notorious will lend a certain cachet to my credentials as Chief of the Scotland Yard Exchange Program at the Boston Police Department. What do you think?”

“Sure. We’ll be notorious as a haven for all the notorious blokes at Scotland Yard,” Dan said.

“You know it can go both ways—you send all your hot potatoes from the BPD to London.”

“Sounds perfect.” Dan sounded serious.

They ended the call and David slipped his phone back in his pocket. He would’ve liked to call Grace, but resisted the urge.

“You’ve been loads of fun,” Roland said, finally putting down his glass and waving off the bartender when he would have refilled it. David chuckled.

“Might as well have never left the States. With the bloody cell phone calls, can’t get away anyway.” David pretended he was glad to get away to London.

“Who are you kidding? You’ve returned home—to your true home in Boston after all these years. I never wanted to mention this before, but in spite of your British heritage, you connections with your father in the diplomatic service and your lofty position in the Yard, you’ve never truly been one of us. We’ve all always known you were a Yank through and through.” Roland toasted him.

“Bad to the bone, as they say.” David drained the last few drops, then slipped his wallet from his jacket and opened it, only to find it stuffed with US dollars as if to prove his friend’s observation.

Roland spied the contents and laughed. “I close my case. Don’t worry,” he said, pulling his wallet out. “I’ll throw it onto your bill.” They both laughed at that. David reminded himself he could afford it—a drop in the mighty bucket of his lost wife’s fortune. He’d discuss the estate with Roland another time. He didn’t need his wife’s money—never had. He had his own family fortune, even if it wasn’t as large. And then he’d never touched that because he’d made his own living all his life, and done quite well without all the bloody ancestors.

They rose from their barstools simultaneously and headed for the door. David gave a farewell to the group and they left, catching a cab out front.

“I’ll be in touch as soon as I get the official word on the estate. Won’t be long now that they’ve got their pound of flesh. It’s in the news and the weight is on your side so they’ll do the right thing.” Roland said goodbye, and David got into the cab and headed to the airport.

He’d never even changed his clothes and realized he’d have to go home before showing up at police HQ in Boston like this. He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his face and thought of Grace. An odd reminder. Then his phone rang as he was disembarking from the cab and he knew it was her. He hurled some US money at the driver, hoping he wouldn’t squawk. He didn’t. Then David slipped the phone from his jacket and composed himself as he walked toward Heathrow’s International Terminal.

“Hello, Grace.” He made sure his tone was evenly modulated and not too heavy from his hurried steps.

“You knew it was me.” She sounded breathless herself. He grinned as he felt the energy from her enthusiasm run through his bloodstream like a powerful drug. He’d never felt anything like it before he’d met her. If he could bottle it, he’d put every energy drink company out of business instantly, and most of the coffee people too.

“I was thinking to call you myself. You’re staying out of trouble as promised, I presume?” He couldn’t help the slight worry.

“What else could happen? It’s hard to believe Lester is dead. It’s harder to believe we found his body.”

He could believe it with no problem. “I’m sorry you had to find his body, and I’m very sorry you lost your friend, Grace.”

“I’m so sorry about everything—mostly that I didn’t get there sooner, but…” Her teary voice tore at him.

“You did all you could.” He didn’t want to think what would have happened if she’d gotten there sooner. “You’ve been very, uh, helpful—what with finding bodies and smuggled artifacts and all. But, Grace, now we have to find the killer, and that’s where police experience and training comes in. You’ll have to leave that to the professionals—Dan and me. Some very dangerous people are involved, and I want you have nothing more to do with this case.” David hoped she was convinced.

“I suppose you’re right…” Her words were still weak with sadness.

He was going to go through security soon. The line was short in front of him, so he had to make the conversation shorter.

“Listen to me. You need to take care of yourself. Until the case is resolved, don’t go anywhere alone. Promise me. And when I get back to Boston, I’ll meet you as soon as I can, okay?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful. I miss you and I can’t wait to see you.” Her voice brightened.

He felt taller somehow. “I’ll see you very soon.” He hung up, wrung out. He kept the déjà vu feelings at bay because it was, realistically speaking, not the same circumstances as his wife’s murder at all. And yet the sense of needing to protect Grace from certain danger hung with him like the malodorous smell of a skunk.

He sounded so protective and determined, she thought, and concerned for her. That was a sure sign that he cared, no matter how misplaced his worry was.

But the case was important, and she was here and he was there. She’d have to see how helpful she might or might not be in finding the killer. Tomorrow morning first thing she’d go over to Theresa and Rick’s loft and look for clues while she helped Theresa redecorate. Grace only felt moderately guilty that she should be working on David’s townhouse. The plumbers would be there tomorrow and she needed to make sure they were on track and out of there as soon as possible.

“Oh no!” she said out loud. She was sitting at her desk at the office and most other people had left, but her Pixie was still there and poked her head in the open door.

“What now? Another dead body?”

“Not unless you count mine—soon to be killed by Batman himself.” She chewed her lip and thought of calling him again. Pixie gave her the quizzical look.

“I forgot to tell David that the plumbers will be at his townhouse tomorrow. Again,” she admitted.

“So call him back and tell him. When is he due back?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s sometime tomorrow,” she said as she punched in his number. The call went directly to his voice mail, but she took a deep breath and left him the message—no bathrooms or kitchen for a couple of days at least.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Pixie laughed and skipped away. Grace threw a ball of paper and was satisfied when it hit her friend in the back of the head. It only made Pixie laugh harder. Grace stopped herself before going after her to invite her along on her clue-finding mission at Theresa and Rick’s. She could take Pixie with her if she wanted after all, since she was the only other person who knew that Nick was there and alive when he was supposed to be dead.

Then she smiled, proud of herself for keeping that top-secret police business a secret all this time. They only had a few more days to go. Only a few more days to find the killer. She frowned. The killer was a real killer now, because they killed Lester for real. The chill she felt was for real too, but she was only going to the loft. How dangerous could that be?

David had only stipulated that she shouldn’t go anywhere alone, and she wouldn’t be alone. She would stop at David’s townhouse after that. Surely she would have time to check on things before he got back from London.

A
S soon as David got off the plane he flipped his badge open, breezing his way through security and customs and whatever other bells and whistles the airport had set up to delay the comings and goings of so many ordinary people trying to live their lives. He slipped the silent cell phone from his pocket and pressed it back into service. It immediately beeped that friendly tone that meant he had a message. Glancing at the too-small screen with his less than bionic eyes, he could see that he had several messages—too many for his impatience to allow him to count.

Instead he punched in Dan’s number to see if his friend could play chauffeur before he bothered to stand in the line for taxis.

“I’m on my way,” Dan said before David could even ask. “Wait. I have another call. I’ll get back to you.”

David’s phone immediately beeped an unfamiliar tone. He hit the “view now” button and was surprised to find what he presumed was a text message. As he stood on the sidewalk, he shook his head. This called for his reading glasses. He finished the message just in time to answer the call back from Dan.

“I just had a text message from the mayor,” he told the chief. “He regrets to inform me that my status—and the status of the exchange program—is uncertain until further clarification can be made by Scotland Yard about information they recently obtained. I’ve never been fired electronically before—it has its advantages. Mostly for the bearer of the bad news.”

“That chickenshit. I was going to let you know—in person. Sorry, David. Politics. I’m sure as soon as the commissioner clears your internal affairs investigation it’ll all be fine.”

Before long, Dan pulled up in front of David in his car. David had barely shut his phone off and swung into the car, chuckling.

“So what does it feel like to break the sound barrier?” he asked his friend, who did not look happy. Dan tossed his phone on the floor in front of David’s feet.

“Was that a commentary on telecommunications technology or the Mayor’s choice to employ it?”

“Take a wild guess,” Dan grunted. “In spite of what the mayor says, you’re still the lead investigator on the case as far as I’m concerned.”

“Where are we going?” David squelched his urge to tell Dan to drop him at home so he could call Grace.

“To Rick’s loft. I just got a call. They had an attempted break-in not ten minutes ago,” Dan said.