Twilight (20 page)

21

D
ana didn’t realize how tense she had been all morning, until Rick finally left and she felt her breath ease out of her in a deep, heartfelt sigh. The cramped muscles in her shoulders relaxed as well. The burning sensation in the pit of her stomach slowly disappeared.

Ironically, she couldn’t place the blame for the tension on him. She was the one who’d been tied up in knots, trying to resist throwing herself straight back into his arms. She had awakened in torment, as images of her wanton behavior the night before came back to her.

Rationally, she knew it was not possible to betray a dead man, but in her heart, she felt she had done so. She might tell herself again and again that even the marriage vows said only “until death do us part,” but she had always believed they were meant to last through eternity.

Surely they should at least last beyond the first anniversary of her husband’s death. What she had done was unforgivable. Ken had been gone less than two months and already she had been with another man. Far worse, it had been a man who had played at least some small role in her husband’s death, even if she was coming to admit that the role was only indirect.

If she were ready to be totally honest, she’d have to admit, though, that it had been good. More than good. She had been more uninhibited with Rick in some ways than she had been with her own husband. Maybe that had to do with timing and desperation, or a million and one other things, but she couldn’t help wondering if it meant she had always held back subtly with Ken, simply because of who he was...a minister. If that were true, she could come to hate herself for cheating them both that way. Or was it simply that each experience in life, each person, paved the way for the experiences and people to come?

What kind of woman was she? The question tormented her.

Rick would have said she was merely human. Ken, she thought with a rueful smile, would have said the same. He had been exceedingly nonjudgmental about human frailties. There had been no fire-and-brimstone sermons about dire consequences spoken from his pulpit. He had preached compassion and love. His God was a kinder, gentler one than the one she’d been brought up to believe in. As a child, she had sometimes quaked at the images of hell her pastor had managed to evoke on Sunday mornings.

So, where had Ken’s God been when someone had pulled a gun and aimed for Ken’s chest? she wondered angrily for the thousandth time. What was the purpose of the test He had designed for those left behind? What was the morality lesson when evil triumphed over good?

As ever, no answers came to her. She forced herself to push aside the questions and concentrate on those she could answer. Reaching for the pad of paper she kept by the phone, she began jotting down the background information she wanted on Lawrence Tremayne before she faced him again and confronted him with her suspicions.

She was determined to conduct the remainder of this investigation slowly and methodically. Up until now, the impulsive decisions she had made had skirted disaster by a very narrow margin. No more. From vast experience, she knew what needed to be done and how to do it, so that it would hold up in court. It was time she started acting like the trained detective she was, rather than a grieving widow.

Lawrence Tremayne owned a large company with its own office tower in downtown Chicago. She had no idea what sort of business it was or what its holdings were, and it was about time she found out.

She would start with a broker who had handled investments for her after she had sold off her investigating company and put the money into a joint account with Ken for the future of their children. If Tremayne Industries was traded on any of the stock exchanges, Jean Bragg would know it. Dana picked up the phone and called her.

She waited impatiently through the expected expressions of sympathy and gave terse replies to Jean’s questions about the boys. Apparently her abrupt answers alerted the other woman that this wasn’t a social call.

“Okay, Dana, what can I do for you?” she asked, her tone changing to brisk formality. “Are you worried about the status of your investments? I can assure you that everything is in order in both your names with right of survivorship. There will be no problems getting access to anything, if you need to liquidate. I’m sure things must be unsettled for you financially now.”

“Thanks, Jean. I’m not worried about that. Ken had insurance and I have some savings. We’re set, until I can get back into my old business. Actually, I called for some information.”

“Sure. If I have it, it’s yours.”

“What do you know about Tremayne Industries?”

The broker’s hesitation was barely perceptible. “Why? You aren’t thinking of moving some of your money into it, are you? I can tell you right now, you have far better stock in your portfolio already.”

Jean’s worried reaction set off alarm bells. “Then it wouldn’t be a good investment?” Dana probed cautiously, trying not to arouse suspicion with her questions. It would be far better if the broker merely thought she was checking out a prospective addition to her stocks.

Again, there was the slightest hesitation before Jean said, “It’s a local company, as you probably know. It’s had some rapid growth in the past. Long-range, maybe it’s still a good investment.”

She paused, as if she weren’t sure how to proceed. “Okay,” she said finally. “Here’s the deal. I don’t like to bad-mouth a local company, but in the short-term, I’d say Tremayne Industries is very risky.”

“Why?”

“Tremayne has had some bad luck with a few of its properties lately. A couple of huge development deals fell through in Latin America.”

Dana seized on the last. “Tremayne does business in Latin America? Why?”

“Growth. Opportunity. At least, I’m sure that’s what he anticipated.”

“But it was a bad call?”

“So it seems.”

“But how can that be? By all accounts, he’s a savvy businessman.”

“I honestly don’t know. All I’ve heard is that he’s heavily in debt, because these deals went sour. You know I like to support local firms. There’s plenty of information readily available. I know the people firsthand. Some of these companies are on the cutting edge, which I find very exciting. But the bottom line is I’d think very seriously before putting a dime into Tremayne Industries right now.”

Dana decided she had all of the information she was likely to get without giving away her real interest in the company. “Thanks, Jean. I’ll give it some more thought.”

“Call if you need anything else. I’ll give you the best advice I can.”

“I know you will,” Dana said. “Thanks again.”

As she slowly replaced the receiver, she pondered what she’d discovered. Lawrence Tremayne’s business was in trouble, maybe not in dire straits, but trouble enough that a cautious broker was recommending against investing in it.

What was the significance of the fact that the trouble had begun with a Latin American connection? Was that and the fact that Ken had been shot in a heavily Latino neighborhood pure coincidence? Dana didn’t believe much in coincidences.

She also knew there was a danger in leaping to conclusions. Fortunately, the ringing of the doorbell kept her from doing just that.

She opened the door to find Detective Dillon O’Flannery on her porch. His expression—never especially cheerful in her brief experience with him—was very grim. He looked as if he’d rather be almost anyplace else on earth.

“What?” she demanded, her heart thudding dully, as she considered what his presence meant.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” he began.

She reached out and clutched the door for support. What had happened? One of the boys? Her parents? What? Images from that night just over a month ago flooded back. Two policemen had stood on her doorstep then, their expressions every bit as tormented as O’Flannery’s was now.

“Just tell me,” she whispered, fighting panic.

He held out a piece of paper. Startled, she simply stared at it. She recognized what it was at once, but she couldn’t quite believe it.

“It’s a search warrant,” he explained, confirming her guess.

“A search warrant?” She almost laughed, giddy with relief that no one else she loved was dead. Then, as the implications sank in, she stared at him. “Why?”

“Probable cause to search for more drugs.”

“I don’t believe this.” Her temper rose. “How dare you? My husband was not dealing drugs. He abhorred drugs.”

“We found evidence of drugs in his church office,” O’Flannery reminded her, his voice oddly gentle. “Look, I know this is upsetting, but why not let us in and get this over with?”

“No,” she said, standing squarely in his path. “Who’s behind this?”

“It was the next logical place to look, after what we turned up at the church.”

“Logical?” Her voice climbed. “There is nothing logical about any of this. Someone is campaigning to destroy my husband’s reputation and I want to know who. More anonymous sources?” she suggested derisively.

Because it was inevitable anyway, she moved aside and gestured expansively. “Go on. Search to your heart’s content. You’ll be wasting time and taxpayer dollars. You won’t find a damn thing.”

He turned then and gestured to the uniformed officers waiting behind him, men she’d been too blinded by fury to even notice before.

With O’Flannery on her heels, she returned to the kitchen and sank down onto a chair. He refilled her cup with coffee, rinsed out the mug Rick had left on the counter and poured another for himself. He sat down opposite her.

“I’m not taking any pleasure in this,” he said eventually.

“I’m thrilled by your sensitivity,” she said bitterly. “Tell me, did Kate know you were coming over here this morning? Does that explain why she hasn’t shown up yet?”

He winced a little at that. “No. Obviously, I couldn’t say a word to anyone until we had the warrant in hand.”

“I’m sure she’ll be impressed with your dedication to duty. I’ll pass along the word.”

Blue eyes locked on hers. “Let me do the explaining, okay? Your spin might be just a little biased.”

Dana studied his expression. “Don’t tell me she actually matters to you. I thought perhaps she was just a source you planned to pump for information about the evil, drug-dealing pastor.”

“She’s a nice woman,” he said simply. “I don’t run across too many of those in my line of work.”

“Yes, she is nice,” Dana agreed. “Too nice to get mixed up with the likes of you.”

He looked offended. “Hey, I’m one of the good guys, remember?”

“I suppose that depends on where you’re sitting, doesn’t it? From where I sit, your white hat is decidedly dirt-streaked.”

He shrugged. “I guess it is a matter of perspective. I’d still like to have a chance to get to know Kate better. That won’t be possible, if you condemn me in her eyes. She cares too much about your feelings. She’s already made that plain. I suppose that puts me at your mercy. It’s a damned awkward position, one I’d rather not be in, to tell you the truth.”

He actually did sound vaguely unsettled by the power she held over him. Dana sighed. Maybe Dillon O’Flannery was a decent guy. Maybe it was just circumstances that were no fault of his own that put them on opposite sides, for the moment. She could be reasonable enough to concede that Kate had the right to make up her own mind about him.

“I won’t interfere,” she said at last, drawing a relieved smile. “But you upset her and I will personally rip your heart out.”

“I’ll consider myself forewarned,” he said just as one of his men came to the door and gestured for him.

“What?” Dana demanded when the detective would have walked off with his colleague.

O’Flannery met her gaze evenly, then nodded to the other man. “It’s okay. What have you found?”

“Two very small packages of what appears to be cocaine.”

Dana stared, openmouthed. “No,” she protested. “That’s not possible. Where?”

“In a small room at the end of the hall upstairs. It was taped behind the dresser.”

In the guest room? Dana thought wildly. Where she had spent last night in Rick’s arms? Where no one else had been in weeks?

There was no way in hell that her husband had brought cocaine into their home, any more than he had taken it into his office at the church. She would have staked her life on that.

But if Ken hadn’t brought the drugs into the house, then who had? The most obvious answer, the one she didn’t like one bit better than the one the police were coming up with, was Rick.

Had he used the opportunity she had so eagerly given him the night before to plant more evidence against her husband? If not Rick, if not last night, why the guest room? Who else had had recent access to it?

“Mrs. Miller?”

She blinked and stared at Dillon O’Flannery.

“Has anyone else been in that room lately?”

She thought of the two people who had spent last night discovering passion in that very room. “No,” she said slowly. “No one.”

She told herself that the lie wasn’t meant to protect Rick. If he was guilty, he didn’t deserve protection. The lie was only meant to buy time, until she could look him in the eye and make the accusation herself.

And if she didn’t like what she read there, she would strangle him with her bare hands.
Then
the police could have at him with her enthusiastic blessing.

22

M
aria’s neatly arranged stacks of files had been strewn from one end of Yo, Amigo’s offices to the other. Rick surveyed the mess and patted the distraught young woman on the shoulder. It had taken her months to get everything organized. The prospect of doing it all over again clearly daunted her.

“It’s okay. I’ll get some of the others in here to help you straighten everything out,” he promised, more irritated than worried about the ransacking, now that he’d seen it. It didn’t look like the work of a professional who was out to discover some specific, incriminating piece of paper. It looked more like kids up to mischief.

“What about the police?” Maria asked indignantly, clearly ready to condemn the perpetrator to prison for life.

Rick shook his head. “Not for this. It will only bring us to their attention. We don’t need any more unfavorable publicity downtown. I’ll get the word out that we don’t appreciate this. That ought to prevent a repeat.”

“How will you spread the word?” she asked suspiciously. “Will you talk to Tico?”

Something in her voice caught his attention. She had sounded almost derisive. He studied her intently. “That’s what I was thinking of doing. Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “Not to me. It is your choice, as always.”

Her attitude spoke far more loudly than her words. “Maria, what is it between you and Tico?”

She looked slightly flustered at having been caught sounding disparaging about a man she knew was his friend. “Nothing,” she declared, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze when she said it.

Rick wasn’t buying it. “What nothing? It’s something. I can hear it. Have you two argued?”

“Never,” she said dismissively. “I would not waste my time.”

“Has he done something?”

“Nothing,” she insisted.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask him.”

“He will only lie,” she said. “Leave it alone. I should not have said anything.”

“Believe me, Maria, you have said nothing, at least nothing that made any sense.”

He shook his head. Women! He would never figure them out. Perhaps his friend could make sense of the mystery. It had been days since he and Tico had played basketball one-on-one. He resolved to invite him over tonight after the restaurant closed. He would grill him until Tico shed some light on this animosity Rick had detected in Maria’s voice.

“If you do not need me, I will being cleaning,” Maria said stiffly.

“Fine. If you discover that something’s missing, let me know.”

“Why? You will do nothing about it, except perhaps talk to Tico.”

She said it with a reappearance of that same subtle disdain. This time, however, it was directed at him. Rick stared as she left his office and deliberately allowed the door to slam behind her.

“Now, what the hell was that all about?” he muttered.

He was still pondering that when the door whipped open and hit the wall behind it. Dana came in, fury radiating from her in waves he could feel across the room.

“Hi,” he said cautiously. “I didn’t expect to see you again this morning.” He decided not to mention his displeasure over the fact that she had obviously gone against his frequently expressed wishes and made the trip to Yo, Amigo alone.

“I didn’t expect to be here,” she said. “Then I had a visit from Detective O’Flannery.”

Rick stood up. He would have rounded his desk to comfort her, but a warning look stopped him in his tracks. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What did the detective want?”

“He had a search warrant to look for more drugs. Imagine my shock when he found more cocaine.”

He stared at her. “You’re kidding? In the house?”

“In the damned guest room,” she said, visibly shaking with rage. “Taped to the back of the dresser. Now, how do you suppose it got there?”

“I have no idea,” he said, then stared at her in shock as her meaning sank in. “You think
I
put it there? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Her gaze never wavered. “I think it’s awfully damned suspicious that you were in that room just last night and now the police have found drugs in there.”

“You were in there, too,” he pointed out quietly. “You’ve had ongoing access to that room with no one around to observe your actions, while I was there only with you. You also had access to Ken’s office at the church. I did not.”

She stared at him in visible horror as he turned the tables on her. “You believe that I...that I could have planted those drugs?” she demanded.

“It is a more reasonable assumption than the one you’re making,” he said, forcing himself not to shout.

She shivered violently, then covered her face with trembling hands. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. The whole damn world is going crazy.
I’m
going crazy. I didn’t want to believe you could do something so despicable, but nothing else makes any sense.”

Rick crossed the room in three quick strides and put his hands on her shoulders. He was relieved when she did not pull away. “Are you sure now that it was not me? Do you trust me at least that much?” he asked gently.

She lifted a tormented gaze to meet his. “I want to believe that.”

He sighed at the doubts still apparent in her voice. “But you can’t be sure.”

“Can you blame me?” she asked angrily. “The timing...” She let her voice trail off.

“The timing sucks. I’ll admit that. But I swear to you, Dana, I had nothing to do with those drugs. You know what the policy is around here. I instituted it. I enforce it. Where would I even get the drugs to plant them?”

“I imagine that would be easy enough,” she said, gesturing toward the window. “You could confiscate them from half a dozen kids right outside the door, more than likely.”

Rick couldn’t deny that, as much as he wanted to. In fact, she sounded so rational even he began to doubt himself. “But why?” he asked. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that ever since I left the house, and I just don’t know.” She stared at him bleakly. “Did you hate Ken for some reason? Was last night part of some revenge, too?”

“Never!” he practically shouted, then tried to calm down.

He hated having to try to explain away her doubts, hated even more that she still harbored such deep distrust of him. That she would accuse him of sleeping with her as an act of revenge infuriated him, but he couldn’t blame her for it, not entirely. The arrival of the police and the discovery of more drugs would have tested the faith of almost anyone.

“You know I didn’t,” he said very softly. “Ken was the best friend I ever had. If I’d had the choice, I would have given my life for him.”

“Someone hated him,” she said. “Someone here. It had to be.”

“Why?” Rick asked, fighting bitterness that, after all they’d shared, they were back to this. “Because the kids in the program would be able to get their hands on drugs?”

She nodded.

“Dana, anyone can get their hands on drugs if they want them badly enough. They can score right out there in the suburbs if they know where to look. They don’t have to come into the barrio. You know that.” He leveled a look directly into her eyes. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted finally. She moved away from him and sat down. “Dammit, it’s just so frustrating. Rick, I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s going on. I was one of the best investigators in the business. I could unravel mysteries that stumped my colleagues. But my husband’s murder is beyond me.”

“You’re just too impatient and too involved. You haven’t been able to step back and look at what you know objectively.”

“Because I don’t know a darned thing.”

“Didn’t you find out anything about Tremayne this morning?”

“Just that his company is having financial trouble,” she said dismissively.

“That’s something.”

“I thought so, too, at first, especially since the deals that went sour had a Latin American connection. Then I really thought about it. If he was having financial problems, where would he come up with fifty thousand dollars to have Ken killed? And why would he do it? It’s not as though Ken might spread the word and ruin him or something. It wouldn’t have been a big secret for long, anyway. My broker told me about it. If she knew, then surely others do, too. So what danger would Ken pose to him?”

Rick settled against the edge of his desk, his knees brushing hers. “Maybe that wasn’t the danger. There could be more to this than we know. Don’t rule Tremayne out just yet. I still don’t like him.”

“Now, there’s an objective opinion if ever I heard one,” she taunted.

Rick grinned. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be objective. I get to react from the gut.”

“What an interesting distinction.”

He met her gaze evenly. “Are we okay now?”

“Yes,” she said, though her voice lacked real conviction. “I’m sorry I rushed down here to accuse you of planting those drugs.”

“It’s not a total loss. I need to talk to Tico. You can come with me. It’s almost lunchtime. He will be happy to see you again. Perhaps that will distract him sufficiently so that I can get some straight answers.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe a little salsa will clear my head.”

Rick grinned. “It couldn’t hurt. I’ve always been of the opinion that salsa has hidden medicinal qualities.”

“And jalapeños?”

“Better yet.” He urged her through the outer office before she could get a good look at the mess that Maria and several helpers were attempting to straighten up. Clearly she had been too upset to pay much attention to it on her way in. It would be just as well if she didn’t start asking too many questions about what he’d learned about the break-in. It was possible she would be no more impressed than Maria by his plan of action...or inaction, as Maria saw it.

Though it was after noon, the restaurant was not yet crowded. Most of the customers came later. By one o’clock it would be jammed. Now, though, Tico turned over the hosting job to one of the waiters and followed them to a booth. To Rick’s irritation, he squeezed in beside Dana.

“It is a pleasure to see you, as always,” Tico told her, deliberately ignoring Rick’s scowl, or perhaps choosing to exacerbate his apparent irritation.

“Your chef performs magic. How could I resist coming back? Besides, you refuse to give me the recipes,” Dana replied.

“Naturally,” Tico said. “Then you would stop coming.”

“Okay, okay, you’re glad to see her,” Rick groused. “She’s thrilled to be here. Can we cut the chitchat and get to the point?”

Tico regarded him with amusement. Dana merely looked puzzled by his irritability.

“I didn’t know there was a point,” she said. “I thought we came for lunch.”

“We did. I also told you I needed to speak to Tico.”

“I am right here,” Tico said reasonably. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I was hoping we could play a little basketball tonight, after you close.”

“
Sí,
I have no other plans,” Tico said readily. “And the rest?”

“What makes you think there is more?”

“You do not come here just to see if I can come out to play, my friend. There are phones for something so trivial.”

Rick sighed. Tico wouldn’t let it rest until he knew precisely why Rick was so eager to see him. He decided to leave news of the break-in for later, when they were alone. Dana might seize on the details of that and obsess on its possible connection to the murder. He was all but certain it would be a waste of her energy.

Instead, he brought up Maria’s name, just to see what sort of reaction he would get.

“What about Maria?” Tico asked blandly, his eyes wide with an innocence that Rick suspected was feigned.

“Have you two argued recently?” he asked bluntly.

Tico’s gaze narrowed. “Why would you ask such a thing? What did she say?”

“It’s what she didn’t say that concerns me,” he said, watching Tico’s expression closely. It gave away nothing. “I always thought you two got along just fine. Today I got a different impression.”

Tico laughed. “That is what this is about? One of your impressions?” He glanced at Dana. “Rick believes he has deeper insights than the rest of us, that he is attuned to the subtleties of conversations. He prides himself on this sensitivity.”

Dana’s lips quirked, but she managed to keep from smiling. Rick was impressed with the attempt. He was less thrilled with his friend’s observation.

“You’re avoiding my question,” he accused. “Has something happened between you and Maria?”

“If it has, it is personal,
mi amigo,
” Tico said lightly. “It is not for you to interfere.”

“I believe it is. I introduced the two of you. Maria is a good girl. I would not like to see anything upset her,
comprende?
”

For just an instant, Tico’s expression hardened in a way that startled Rick. It reminded him that Tico had once been one of the street’s most dangerous young men. Then he smiled, once more the jovial host. The transformation was so swift Rick thought he must have imagined that momentary flash of pent-up violence.

“No harm will come to your precious Maria,” Tico informed him. “I will see to that.”

Dana had watched the exchange very closely. As soon as Tico had excused himself to get their meals, she stared at Rick. “What was that all about?”

“You heard.”

“I heard what you said, but the undercurrents were extraordinarily tense. I thought you two were good friends.”

“We are.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a guy thing. Don’t worry. We’re not going to come to blows over Maria.”

“Are they dating?”

Rick had wondered that very thing, but he’d never heard any rumors to that effect. Then again, Tico’s private life was pretty much an enigma to him. It might have been a carryover from his days on the streets, when secrecy had been essential. But Tico guarded his privacy fiercely.

“I don’t have any idea,” he admitted.

She looked straight into his eyes then. “Why didn’t you mention the break-in to him?”

Rick swallowed hard and hoped that the fire he felt in his cheeks wasn’t visible to the woman opposite him. Unfortunately, she seemed able to read even what he tried hardest to hide. “I didn’t want to get into it with him, just yet.”