What's in a Name? (38 page)

“
I have an appointment
with Blake Windsor.” Kelli gave a sheepish grin. “I’m a little
late, I’m afraid and I didn’t write down his office number. Some
days I swear I’m lucky my shoes match.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, but
clicked some buttons on her phone and asked if Mr. Windsor was in.
She listened, then nodded and gave Kelli an apologetic smile. “I’m
sorry. You just missed him. He left about ten minutes ago.”

Kelli made no attempt to hide her
disappointment. “Would you know where he might be going? It’s
important I speak to him about the —she searched her brain— “the
Whittaker account. My boss is convinced I’m a total flake, and I
have to show him I can do this.”

She could almost hear the woman going
tsk, tsk while she removed the headset from her ear and slipped it
into a drawer.

“
Please?” The pleading
in her voice was real, although she tried to get some of the “total
flake” into her expression. Maybe a little lost puppy, too. “If I
lose this job, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The woman shook her head and sighed.
“You might try the bistro on the corner. I believe his secretary
heard him mention it before he left. Madeleine’s.”

“
Thank you, thank you
so much.” She pivoted and strode back to the elevator. When the
doors opened, the car was full, and she squeezed in amid what
appeared to be clerical staff. Men and women, professionally
dressed, but with a slightly bored air about them. None carried
briefcases or anything that looked like they’d be taking work home.
Out at the stroke of five, most likely. As she watched the numbers
count down the floors, she thought she got a faint whiff of a
familiar aftershave.

No, Blake had already left, the
receptionist had said. It’s not like he was the only man on the
planet who wore it. She was too sensitized. Wishful thinking, too.
Yet when the doors opened on the ground floor, she stepped out and
lingered to one side as the car disgorged its passengers.

A hand gripped her biceps. “Well, well,
well. Look who saved me a trip.”

At Madeline’s, Blake took a table near
the door. Every time it opened another blast of frigid air chilled
the room. He traced the red and white checks on the tablecloth with
a forefinger while he nursed a Scotch. After he told Vance to
forget about him as a part of Hollingsworth’s campaign team, he’d
go back to work, but in the meantime, his boss had practically
ordered him to have drinks with the man.

The after-work crowd trickled in,
murmuring things about wind chill and a new record low, and he
nodded to familiar faces. One or two women smiled, paused, as
though waiting for an invitation to join him. Little as he wanted
to deal with Vance Griffith, the thought of a woman other than
Kelli left him feeling hollow—like in the old days, right after his
birthday, when everything went back to business as usual. He kept
his face closed and they walked by.

He saw her at the door. His heart
jumped to his throat and his groin tightened. Then he looked again
and he saw the fear on Kelli’s face. A man, overcoat slung over his
arm, a scarf wrapped over the lower half of his face, wearing
sunglasses and a brimmed hat pulled low on his head stood close
beside her. Too close.

Even before the man nodded him out the
door, Blake was on his feet, grabbing his wallet and dumping
several bills on the table without a thought to their
denominations. He’d settle any differences next time.

Saucer-wide, Kelli’s eyes pleaded for
him to stay back. He saw the man’s hand, draped with his coat,
pressed against Kelli’s back. He covered the distance to them in
three strides, recognition sending a trickle of sweat down his
spine.

“
Let’s go,” the man
said. “Keep it natural. And no talking.” He started walking toward
a row of cabs. The three of them squeezed into the backseat of the
first one, the man in the middle, his gun still pointed at Kelli.
He barked an address to the cabbie and they merged into
traffic.

Mouth dry, heart pounding, Blake tried
to keep his voice pleasant. “Sorry I didn’t return your call about
dinner, Vance, but don’t you think this is overkill? If you want to
discuss Dwight’s campaign, we can talk.”

“
Shut up,” Griffith
said. “I get nervous when people talk. Twitchy, even.”

He weighed the odds. Not likely that
Griffith would shoot either of them in the cab, but he wouldn’t
risk endangering Kelli. He’d play this one out.

Fifteen minutes later Griffith said,
“This is fine,” to the cabbie and the car stopped. Griffith fumbled
in his pocket with his left hand and pulled out some bills, which
he handed over the seat.

Blake looked out the window at some
run-down buildings, most empty. A few storefronts with grimy
windows, many boarded up with graffiti-covered plywood, lined the
cracked sidewalks. The cab pulled away, hung a U-turn and was
gone.

He glanced around. “River North.
Charming neighborhood. You live here, Vance?” In this neighborhood,
a gunshot would go unnoticed. Certainly unreported.

“
I said, ‘Shut up’,
Windsor. Walk, or your so-called cousin gets hurt.”

“
You need to get a
better speech writer, you know. You’re starting to sound like a bad
movie.”

“
There’s a
construction site down there.” Griffith cocked his head to his
right. “We’re going to cut between these two buildings, walk down
this alley, and then you’re going to have a little
accident.”

Wind howled between the buildings.
Kelli walked beside him, hunched against the cold, her hands
stuffed in her pockets.

He set his fury aside and kept his tone
civil. “You could at least be a gentleman and give her your coat.
Tell me what you want. I’m sure we can work out a deal.”

“
We’re not negotiating
here, Windsor.” Vance’s voice was low, muffled by his scarf. He
moved the coat enough to confirm he held a gun to Kelli.
“Walk.”

Blake took a breath. Negotiate. That’s
what he did. Okay, so it wasn’t usually someone’s life on the line,
but he’d been staring down gun barrels a lot lately. He’d almost
built up an immunity. Right. Maybe to some of the panic. But
definitely not to the bullets.

While they walked, Blake moved closer
to Kelli, not sure if he was reassuring her or himself with the
proximity. Her cheeks were ruddy from the wind and he thought he
could hear her teeth chattering.

“
If you’re not going
to be chivalrous, Vance, I hope you don’t mind if I give her my
coat.” Without waiting for a reply, he began working his arms out
of his topcoat.

“
Doesn’t matter to
me.” Vance said. “You’re not going to be around much longer,
anyway.”

“
Kill me if you have
to, but leave Blake out of this.” Kelli’s voice rang out, high and
shrill. He heard more anger than fear. “You can tell Mr.
Hollingsworth he doesn’t know anything.”

Griffith made a choking sound.
“Hollingsworth? That wimp? He may be cutthroat in business, but he
has no clue about politics.”

“
This is about
politics?” Blake stopped, turned to face Griffith and forced a
smile. “Hell, he’s got my vote, although I can’t say I approve of
your campaign methods.” Slowly, he took his coat and laid it over
Kelli’s shoulders. She seemed so tiny under its bulk. He tried to
insert himself between Kelli and Griffith, but she made no effort
to move aside. Had she resigned herself to whatever Griffith had
planned for them?

“
So you sent those
other thugs after us?” she said. “Scumbag McGregor and that
delivery man.”

“
Too bad they botched
it. Good help is so hard to find, isn’t it?” Blake said.

“
My mistake,” Griffith
said. “I’ve learned if you want a job done right, you gotta do it
yourself. Don’t you … Casey?” He laughed, a low-pitched grating
sound. “Dwight is such a trusting fool. Sending a total amateur to
find out if it was really you out in the woods. And then taking you
” —he glanced at Blake— “at your word. I mean, just because a man
straps on a tool belt doesn’t make him the right man for the job.
You might have pulled off the carpenter bit, but Dwight never
thought past phase one—finding out if Kelli Carpenter was Casey
Wallace. I tried to get him to leave things to me, but no—the old
geezer had to send you out there on a stupid fact-finding
mission.”

His eyes, cold as the winter sky,
narrowed. “Which, I may add, you failed miserably. Enough talking.
Start walking.”

The gun to the small of his back was
enough incentive. He moved a few paces apart from Kelli. It would
be harder for Griffith to control them if they weren’t so close
together. He glanced back and forth, looking for someplace he could
shove Kelli to safety and deal with Vance on his own. But the
buildings crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, with not a gap
between them. He tried to pick up the pace, maybe get to the end of
the block and cut away, but Kelli trudged along. Delaying tactics?
Or had she shut down? His coat dragged like a royal cloak behind
her, threatening to fall off. When he tried to wrap it tighter, she
shrugged it back and shook her head.

“
I’m okay,” she
whispered.

He turned around again, fixing his gaze
on Griffith. He needed to keep it personal, between the two of
them. Get him to forget Kelli for the moment. “Why don’t you put
the gun down and we can work something out. Shooting us isn’t going
to look like an accident, is it?”

“
I said keep walking.”
Griffith stepped forward and put the gun to Kelli’s head. “Where
you’re going, nobody’s going to be able to tell if you were shot or
not. You’ll be part of the foundation of a new low-income housing
project. A little variation on the cement shoes. Chicago has such a
rich history, doesn’t it?”

Blake’s heart lurched. He put his hands
up and took three backward paces, maintaining eye contact, trying
to keep the fear from showing in his face or voice. “No need for
that. I’m walking. But exactly what am I supposed to know?”

“
She didn’t tell
you?”

“
I couldn’t tell him
what I didn’t know, Mr. Griffith.” She emphasized the name. Kelli’s
tone was even now, steady and clear.

“
I think, under the
circumstances, you can call me Vance.”

“
Very well, Vance,”
Kelli said with the same clear enunciation. A hint of sarcasm,
perhaps?

She shouldn’t be making the man mad.
Blake interrupted. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?
If you’re going to shoot us, I’d like to know why.”

“
Now who sounds like a
bad movie?” Griffith said. “Turn around and move it.”

“
I’d rather see the
man who’s trying to shoot me. Or do you prefer to shoot your
victims in the back?”

“
You talk too much,
Windsor. Next word out of your mouth and the gun might go off. Too
bad it’s pointed at her.”

Kelli turned to Blake, her eyes begging
him to do what Griffith asked. He shrugged and fell into step
beside her. Still walking, she looked over her shoulder.

“
So Dwight
Hollingsworth doesn’t know you’re here, does he, Vance? You’re
doing this on your own, right?” she said.

“
Hollingsworth refused
to understand you can’t put your faith in the system. You have to
manipulate it if you want to go places, and believe me, I want him
to go places. That’s been the plan since college.”

“
The fraternity,”
Kelli said. “And are your law partners part of the
scheme?”

Griffith transferred his eyes from
Kelli to Blake and back. “Not exactly. Back in college, they
thought we could work together, get one of us into politics and
take him to the top with benefits for all. But they all got happy
doing their legal stuff and pretty much forgot their little club.
Except for Dwight, who wanted more. Making money hand-over-fist
wasn’t enough for him.” He sniffed. “So I offered Hollingsworth my
guidance.”

“
Mighty generous of
you,” Blake said.

Griffith shrugged. “Dwight will have
the title, but I’ll call the shots once he’s governor. And after a
while, president. He’s got the charisma. I’ll do the rest.”

“
And Kelli knows
something that would keep him from being elected.”

“
Even if she didn’t,
there was no way I was going to risk it.”

This time Kelli stopped. She gave
Griffith a stare that made Blake shiver. He’d never seen her this
icy.

“
Berlyno Manufacturing
in Philadelphia. A job I had for two days before they decided they
didn’t need my services after all. They paid me well for my
trouble. I went back home to San Diego and a few days later,
Charles and Lucas were killed. I never thought about Berlyno again.
Until today.”

She looked at him now, not Griffith,
and her expression softened, although her voice was as clear as
ever. “Years ago, Dwight Hollingsworth worked for Berlyno. He’d
been embezzling. I didn’t have a chance to get further than that
this afternoon, but—”

Blake cut her off. He could negotiate,
keep Vance talking. In familiar territory, the panic eased while
his mind worked through the ramifications. “So Dwight realizes
someone’s going to be checking his past. The scrutiny of a
political campaign could uncover his earlier misdeeds.” He looked
at Griffith. “And if that happened, no more behind the scenes power
for Vance Griffith. How am I doing?”

“
Not bad, Windsor,”
Griffith said.