Читать книгу Courting Danger - Carol Stephenson - Страница 10

The stadium-size parking lot had emptied considerably during the time I had been meeting with my client. Only a scattering of patrol and civilian cars remained. The late-afternoon sun cast deep shadows in the corners. Of course, my car was parked on the far side so I cut a diagonal toward it.

Halfway across the lot I heard the slight sound of rubber scuffing against the pavement. I glanced around but saw no one. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck lifted as if stirred by a nonexistent breeze.

I picked up the pace and at the same time shifted the car key into my right hand. Although I heard nothing else, I still breathed a mental sigh of relief when I reached the Jag. Being a city girl, I flicked on the miniflashlight clipped to my key chain and panned the narrow beam into the back seat. No one.

Who could blame me for having jumpy nerves? I’d had one miserable day. I inserted and twisted the key.

Someone jerked my briefcase from my left hand, almost dislocating my shoulder.

I spun only to see a hooded person running toward the street.

“Hey!” I took off after the thief. “Give that back!”

After a few steps I kicked off my shoes, wishing I could throw them like a knife and impale him right between the shoulder blades.

In my stocking feet, I continued the chase, zigzagging among the cars. If I could maneuver him toward the south edge, then maybe I would be in luck and the security for The Donald’s golf course might be on patrol. The Trump course was more closely guarded than the jail any time of the day.

I winced as a stone sliced my foot. There went another pair of hose! The kid was fast, I had to grant him that. In my tight skirt I wasn’t gaining any ground. Time for a different strategy.

At the top of my considerable lungs, I yelled, “Take the bag but dump the contents!”

The thief ignored me and cut around one of the county buses used to transport prisoners. I pumped my arms and put on a burst of speed, but by the time I reached the bus, he had disappeared. I paused, catching my breath, while I tried to gauge where he had gone.

No movement, no sound, no clue.

Now, like an idiot, I could stumble about in the gathering dusk, giving him an opportunity to jump me again, or retreat to my car.

“Damn!” Turning, I gimped back to the jail parking lot, picking up my discarded shoes along the way. I rather liked that briefcase, but thank God, the jerk had gone for the blatant designer initials on the case and not for my more discreet Hermès tote. Although it was a pain in the ass, I could’ve easily recopied the court files contained in the case. Not so for the contents of my tote. Unzipping the top, I pulled out the slim leather portfolio.

My notes from the Silber interview were irreplaceable. I’d dictate them up as soon as I reached the office. I opened my car door and slid inside.

But first, I had a bone to pick with the sheriff’s office about the security of its parking lot.

Nearly an hour later the Jag and I, mutually running on empty, crawled into the firm’s parking lot. Given the time, the staff was gone for the day although I could hear voices from Nicole’s office located diagonally across from mine. Without making a sound, I limped down the hall.

Once I was inside the seclusion of my office, my aching feet demanded that I kick off my shoes. The next article of clothing to go was my jacket. With a mingled sigh of relief and groan of pain, I shucked off my ruined hose.

“Hey, sweetheart. Don’t you think we should get business out of the way before we get down to hot and sweaty?” A man’s voice, as rich and smoky as aged whiskey, emanated from the depths of the Queen Anne chair I had placed beside a table in the corner for working at nights.

I froze, my skirt still hitched around my waist and my heart doing a perfect backflip. I didn’t have any appointments. My sole client was in county lockup.

As I yanked my skirt down, I squinted but couldn’t make out my unwanted visitor’s features. As I hadn’t bothered to turn on the overhead light, the room remained dark. Good, he couldn’t have seen much.

“Of course, I’m for skipping business altogether. Stripping off that blue silk thong over your endless legs would be a lot more interesting. It’s been a hell of a day.”

My face burned. Of all the obnoxious men, this one took the cake. Carling’s office was next to mine so he had to be her client. Let her take his gigantic ego down a peg or two. In the meantime I wrapped the shreds of my dignity around me.

“Excuse me, but you’re in the wrong office.” Each word dripped with the iciest disdain I could muster. “If you’re here for Carling—”

“Hey, you’re here! For once I didn’t hear your car squealing to a stop.”

I looked around. Carling stood with her shoulder propped against the doorjamb. “I see you two have met.”

I was supposed to meet this oaf? With a tinge of desperation, I said, “I was just going to escort your client to your office.”

She let out a hoot of laughter. “In my dreams. After you told me about your new case, I knew you would need an investigator so I called the best. Kate, meet Gabriel Chavez, P.I.” She flicked the switch on so the room flooded with light.

Oh no, not him, although I probably should be grateful for the opportunity to meet the infamous police detective whose dismissal had actually bumped me and the federal corruption investigation of the U.S. Attorney’s office from headlines.

I blinked against the glare as the man rose and sauntered toward me. He had chosen that chair deliberately, I realized, both to protect his back and to see who entered before he was spotted. Here was a man accustomed to danger and wanting the upper hand.

Then I saw his face and was blindsided. God, talk about gorgeous.

Gabriel Chavez personified Latin virility: jet-black hair that curled, golden skin stretched taut over knife-edged cheekbones, eyes the shade of dark Godiva chocolate, a sculpted poet’s mouth designed for long, soft kisses. Dressed in black jeans and black T-shirt, he had a tough, compact build with broad shoulders.

Then he smiled, a flash of strong white teeth. Oh yeah, here was a man who could charm the pants off any woman within a hundred feet with one glimpse of that dimple.

He extended his hand and manners dictated that I hold out my own. I intended only the briefest of grips, but nothing prepared me for the jolt of his skin against mine. A wave of heat singed every nerve ending from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet.

I stepped back and nearly fell when my heel banged against a chair. With a smooth move, Gabriel caught and righted me. His arms slipped around me, bringing me into perfect alignment against the hard, muscular angles of his body.

With an effort, I found my voice. “Um, I’m fine. You can let go now, Gabriel.”

His bedroom eyes couldn’t have been hotter and more amused as he slowly shook his head. “Call me Gabe. And I’m quite happy with the way things are.”

I inhaled, to blister him, and gasped. Even the smallest movement on my part caused us to rub together.

He grinned. His warm masculine scent filled my nostrils, making me feel even woozier.

Setting my teeth, I wiggled my hand trapped between our bodies. I caught a pinch of his rib flesh and gave a sharp twist. He yelped and released me. I shook my fist at him.

“Listen macho man. I have been mauled and mugged two times already today and I’ve had it up to here!”

My outburst finally got a rise out of Carling, who had contented herself to watch our play-by-play with great interest. She rushed to me.

“What do you mean, you were mugged?”

“A guy…at least I think the thief was male…grabbed my briefcase as I was leaving the jail.”

Now that my hormonal surcharge was subsiding, my feet were back to screaming for attention. I limped over to my chair and sat, dropping the tote bag on the floor.

“I gave chase but lost him when he ducked behind a bus.”

“Let me see those.” Gabe knelt before me and lifted a foot. His dark brow arched. “You chased him without your shoes on?”

I winced as he prodded a cut. “I thought it was wiser than breaking my neck from running in four-inch heels.”

“You actually think? Did you think about the consequences of chasing some punk by yourself?”

I tried to tug my foot free, but his strong fingers were like a vise.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Right, that’s why you look like you’ve been run over by a truck.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Carling, can you bring me a washcloth and a first-aid kit? These cuts need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

No way did I want to be left alone with this man. We could call Nicole for help. I shot a pleading glance at Carling, but my traitorous friend was already out the door.

With as dignified tone as I could muster, I said, “You don’t need to stay, Mr. Chavez. Carling and I can manage.”

He winked. “We have business to discuss, remember?” His touch was gentle but impersonal as he examined the cuts on my sole. Wow, were my feet throbbing! I tried to see around Gabe’s head to see how deep the cuts were. Then I caught sight of the fire-engine-red toenail polish the manicurist had talked me into yesterday instead of my usual pink.

What messages did a woman send with that color? I almost surrendered to the urge to wiggle my toes to see if any polish was chipped.

I heard Gabe’s low voice rumbling. With an effort, I focused.

“What did you say?”

“Carling says you need an investigator for the old courthouse murder case.”

“Mr. Chavez, I don’t think you’re suitable for the position.”

Uh-oh. He released my one foot only to wrap his fingers around the other ankle. Good thing I’d had my legs waxed as well yesterday. As he pressed his fingers, the action took on the semblance of a massage.

“It’s Gabe, remember.”

“What?”

“My name.”

“I know who you are.” My embarrassment made for loose lips. “Your exploits as a detective were headline news up right through the time you punched out your captain and you were fired.”

My God, was that Aunt Hilary’s biting primness I heard coming from my mouth?

Gabe lowered my foot; I could have whimpered.

“Was that a rebuke I heard? You of all people should understand about being on the receiving end of a scandal.”

He had me there. Leaning forward, I looked into his dark fathomless eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry. It’s been a long hellish day. No.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s a cop-out. You ever have a frightening moment when you become exactly like the people who raised you…even when you swore a million times you wouldn’t?”

He nodded. “Both the good and the bad of our folks are stamped upon our makeup.”

“Exactly. I just had an ‘Aunt Hilary’ moment and I apologize.”

Gabe stayed in a crouch, his arm resting on his knee. “This Aunt Hilary raise you?”

I never spoke about my family with strangers, but in the quiet of my office, with this man who appeared willing to listen, the temptation was strong. Too strong. I needed to steer the conversation back to business.

“Gabe.”

“Yes?”

“Carling and Nicole both speak highly of your investigation skills.” If fact, they had waxed poetic about his results. When their regular investigator had suffered a heart attack and retired two months ago, he had recommended Gabe. At that time I had no clients of my own, so I hadn’t bothered to meet Gabe and hadn’t bothered to check his references.

“They’re dynamite women.”

The obvious admiration in his tone gave me a pause. Was his relationship with one of my friends personal? Jealousy’s claws needled me.

“Look,” I said in desperation. “I’m sure you’d be fine to use on a case with not as high a profile….” My voice trailed off. My family had said the same about me.

Gabe winked at me. “We’re quite a pair with our history, aren’t we?”

I nodded.

His expression intensified as he studied me. “Your partners said you got a bum deal at the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

My cheeks warmed.

“But you made a mistake and paid for it.”

Even months later, chagrin was a hot ball in my throat that I had to swallow.

“Slept with the top guy—”

Oh no, not again. I wasn’t about to listen to the career-favors-for-sex intimation. “Don’t go there.” My voice was tight with anger.

“Don’t go where?”

“I did not get any special breaks for dating Harold. Period.”

Gabe’s eyebrow arched in skepticism. “I know Harold Lowell and you’re a looker.”

Just like a man to assume the worst. This time I welcomed Hilary’s reproving tone in my voice. “What you don’t know is that I eloped when I was eighteen, only to learn the boy had visions of trust funds and not love.” I snapped my fingers. “My family secured the divorce within a few weeks.”

He whistled. “Talk about a quickie.”

Perhaps. But not quick in terms of emotional toll, although I wasn’t about to admit that. I settled for a frosty glare. “Call my mistakes with men lessons learned the hard way.”

Moreover, I wasn’t about to follow my mother’s path and blaze a sexual trail through the opposite sex.

“You must be talking about that rat Prince Harold.” Nicole Sterling, carrying a white terry washcloth and first-aid kit, walked toward us. Tall and slender in her navy pin-stripe suit, she was model-perfect. Her concerned gaze absorbed my condition in one glance.

“You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Carling needed to take a call so she asked me to bring in the first-aid kit.”

Gabe leaned back on his heels and flashed that killer smile. “Hello, Red. Looking gorgeous as usual.”

“Looking to die young, Gabe?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then don’t call me Red.” She handed him the cloth.

“Sure thing, Red…I mean Nicole.” He winked before he looked down as he probed and cleaned my wounds. I bit back a whimper.

“Did Katherine also mention that she was the one who figured out Harold’s scam and turned him in to the federal authorities?”

“No, she forgot that fact.” He squeezed a drop of salve onto his palm and carefully applied it to the cuts.

“Fine.” I leaned back into the chair. “Let’s talk about me as if I wasn’t present.”

Nicole propped her hip against the edge of my desk. “Lucky gal. Nothing like having a tall, dark and handsome man attend to you.”

And dangerous, I thought. Very dangerous to a woman who lacked any intuition about the opposite sex. I said coolly, “If you see a man like that, let me know. Ouch!”

Gabe’s expression was pure innocence. “Sorry. Did that hurt?”

“You know it did.”

Nicole laughed. “Sounds like you two are going to have a great time working together.”

I cast her a withering glance.

“Kate here hasn’t made up her mind whether I can stand up to public scrutiny on this case.”

I squirmed. I hadn’t decided, but the truth said out loud sounded shallow.

“Nonsense. Your credentials are impeccable.” Nicole paused a beat and fluttered her eyelashes. “And you owe me a beer for landing you another case.”

Gabe grunted as he wrapped gauze around my foot. “Thanks a lot. Your partner is already skittish as a perp under questioning.”

Nicole picked up the Saint Louis paperweight on my desk and tossed it from hand to hand. Its facets flashed a rainbow of colors in the light. When my friend was working on a problem, she liked to keep her hands busy.

“We all appreciate the best.”

He patted my bandaged feet and rose, spreading his hands. “Working for three beautiful women. How can life get any better?”

I rolled my eyes, and Nicole laughed. She put down the paperweight and walked over to the corner of the room where I kept a huge dry-erase board. “Since you’re the walking wounded, Katherine, I’ll man the marker. What do we know so far?”

Gabe proceeded to wander around the office, pausing here and there to check out a photograph or a knickknack.

I squelched a Hilary urge to instruct him not to touch anything, but instead removed the portfolio from the tote, and flipped through my notes.

“Grace’s body was discovered at ten-twenty p.m. when the guard was making his rounds. Approximate time of death speculated to be after eight. Our client was home alone.”

“So no alibi.” Nicole’s marker squeaked on the board as she wrote down all the facts.

“Police theory of motivation was lover’s quarrel.”

“Were they having an affair?”

I shrugged. “He denies it.”

“Good-looking older man, pretty young girl. Jury may disbelieve him.”

“True.” I frowned at one page. “He mentioned the restoration has run into major snags. Additional subcontractors had to be hired in the hopes of bringing the project in on time.”

Gabe paused in his prowling. “What kind of snags?”

“Delayed shipments, busted or stolen equipment, accidents.” I lowered the pad. “The workers are complaining the site is jinxed. A few have even quit, saying the fourth floor was haunted.”

Gabe examined the array of my skeet-shooting and swimming trophies on a shelf. “That’s the floor where the woman was murdered.”

Nicole chose a different colored marker. “So for suspects we have our client, his wife….” She wrote rapidly.

“Why Meredith?”

“Jealousy.” Nicole and Gabe spoke in unison and grinned at each other.

“Textbook suspect,” Nicole added.

“All right.” Personally I doubted that Lloyd’s small, reserved wife could muster the energy to kill anyone. She was more into complaining about her lowered financial situation. If she killed anyone, it would be her husband, to collect insurance payments.

“Others on the restoration committee, as they would have access and motive.” My partner continued down the suspect column. “Any mutual friends and acquaintances of Grace and Lloyd. Of course, Grace’s fiancé. Construction people. Who else?”

“No one—” I broke off as a horrible idea took hold. Oh brother, opening that can of worms would make my life miserable.

“What is it, Katherine?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Bad idea.”

Gabe turned around and folded his arms. “Can’t be that bad, Katherine, if it caused that panicky expression.”

What, did he have eyeballs in the back of his head? I sulked.

“Grace’s job was to collect memorabilia from the days the courthouse was in use. Art, books, furniture, photographs.”

“We’ll call this pool of suspects ‘donors.’” Nicole added another line on the board.

Oh goody. My aunt and all her friends would be simply thrilled to be questioned in connection with a murder case. It would be the talk of the town for weeks.

I rubbed my temples where the telltale throbbing of a tension headache was starting. “So where do we start?”

“The murder scene.” Gabe jerked his head toward the door. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get going.”

“Where?”

“The courthouse. I’ll make a call on the way to clear our admittance.”

“Now?” All I wanted to do was crawl home, straight into a hot shower.

“Our client’s first appearance is in the morning, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“The murder occurred at night, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” I frowned. “Who’s the attorney here?”

With studied nonchalance he shrugged. “I’m attending law school at night.”

Uh-oh.

“Look, there’s no time like the present. I need to see how the scene looks like at night. Besides, with all the construction people, the integrity of the crime scene is going to be shot to hell if it isn’t already.”

He extended his hand. “Go home, change, and I’ll pick you up in thirty.”

I forced my aching body to leave the chair’s comfort without his assistance. “Make it an hour and you have a deal.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty-five.”

“Thirty.”

I sighed. “Okay, thirty, but don’t be on time.”

“Seven sharp and I’ll pick up burgers along the way.”

True to his word, Gabe arrived promptly at seven, charmed my cat Willy, handed me a hamburger and pulled me toward his battered black Dodge truck before I could catch a breath. I had raced home, jumped into the shower and pulled on the first available outfit.

I wore jeans, whose crisp crease had earned a withering glance from Gabe, a black cashmere V-neck sweater, and no makeup. I was tired, my feet hurt like hell, and my temper simmered due to the irritating man beside me, but I was having the time of my life.

What I was doing was so totally removed from the glittering balls of Palm Beach society that I could’ve hugged myself for joy. Oh heck, why not? I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Are you cold?” Gabe asked as he pulled his rattling monster of a truck into a spot in the parking garage.

“No.”

He leaned across me, and I got another tantalizing whiff of him as he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a large flashlight. Oh dear. Gabe was one of those MacGyver types—prepared for any emergency.

Within a few minutes we stood before the old courthouse. My breath caught. At night with the glow of lights, it shimmered. The first stage of the restoration had consisted of removing the 1970s brick facade that had wrapped around the original 1916 structure. Now the neoclassic building with its graceful pillars stood out among all the other governmental buildings.

Such pretty trappings for so much heartache. It’s just a building, I reminded myself. It simply served as the site of tragedy.

At the entrance Gabe exchanged a few words with the security guard and then we were inside, crossing the hall to the stairway.

My shoes echoed on the marble steps in the old courthouse. Had my grandfather placed his foot in this slight depression? Had he held this banister? Had he and Grandmother walked through those doors and simply slipped away into the night? Had they been dragged out kicking and screaming?

We reached the top floor and took the passage to our left. Gabe switched on the flashlight and its high-powered beam sliced down the long dim corridor.

I smiled. “I was right.”

“About?”

“You’re like MacGyver.”

“Loved that show as a kid.” He patted his back pocket.

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Your pocketknife?”

“You bet. As a top-notch investigator, I like to be prepared.”

Ahead of us, the shadows stirred as if a darker one moved in their midst. For a moment I wondered if we had disturbed one of the building’s alleged ghosts. Then I narrowed my eyes.

“I thought the guard said we were the only ones up here.”

“Yes—” Gabe broke off as he swung the flashlight. The shadow moved as the person took off in the opposite direction.

“Hey, come back here!” I yelled and broke into a run. Someone was up to no good.

“What the hell? Kate!”

The beam of light bounced as Gabe started after me. I called over my shoulder. “He must have been after the artifacts housed up here.”

The light steadied and I saw the dark shadow turn and lift its arm. Metal glinted.

A Mack truck in the form of Gabe rammed into my ribs as a loud crack reverberated.

“Umph!” The force threw me forward yet twisted me at the same time. I landed not on the floor but on something only a bit softer.

Before I could draw in a breath, Gabe rolled me underneath his hard body, drew his gun, braced his arms and fired off one shot.

The ringing spread from my ears to my temples as if I was in the London Tower at noon. I could see that Gabe had pulled out his phone and was talking, but all I could hear was a buzz interfacing with the ringing.

He rose, tugging me up along with him. “Come on. Hurry. The police are on their way, and I want to get a look at what he was doing before they get here.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out latex gloves. “Here, put these on.”

I snapped on the icky plastic. As we approached the vicinity where the intruder had been, I saw the strips of yellow tape strewn on the ground in front of one room.

“Ah, so someone else was interested in the murder scene.”

“Gabe.” I halted and gripped his arm.

“What is it?”

I swallowed, knowing that indeed the courthouse ghosts were alive and well tonight, for they had materialized to haunt me.

But I had to circle around to the truth. I couldn’t immediately confront it.

“That can’t be the room where Grace Roberts was killed.”

“Duh.” Gabe pointed the flashlight at the door. “Tape with the words crime scene on it. Surely you left the ivory tower at the federal level on occasion to know what the tape looks like.”

So much for circling. I took a deep breath.

“That’s my grandfather’s old chambers.”

“What?” He turned and gripped my upper arms.

I nodded. “That’s the office where he and my grandmother were last seen before they disappeared thirty-five years ago.”