Читать книгу Death By Sugar - Helen Goltz - Страница 7

'I can't talk until I have a drink in front of me!'

My best friend, Melanie Davies, sat back and folded her arms. Her blonde hair was tied back and her red linen suit was crushed from wading over client's financial statements all day. Melanie always had a touch of the theatrics about her.

'What, not a word?' I teased.

'Okay, I guess I can fill you in on my love life until the vodka arrives: it's non-existent. Yessss!' She barely waited for the waiter to place her drink on the table before raising the glass and taking a sip. She sat back.

'That's better. You're looking good,' she noticed I was there.

'I darkened my hair.'

'It makes your eyes look bluer. Does Dom like it?'

'Don't be silly, he hasn't even noticed.'

'Men. Speaking of which, why are we here?' Melanie glanced around. 'Not that I'm complaining, I like Italian food.'

'Research,' I told her.

'Italian cooking or Italian men?'

'Good grief! Do you think of anything else besides eating and men?'

'Of course. There's shopping.'

'Work research,' I steered her back on track. 'The owner is a new client.'

'Really? This joint's been here for ages. Why have they decided to do some marketing now?'

'No, he's hired a private investigator!'

'Who?'

'Me! Mel, get with the program. He's hired me to investigate for him.'

'Oh!' Her eyes widened. 'Sorry, I'm scatty this evening. Let's start again. So what's he got you investigating, is he good looking and does Dom know?'

'His car blew up, yes and yes.'

She nodded. I could see her thinking through the questions.

'What sort of car?'

'Mercedes.' I couldn't remember the model and didn't think Melanie would care anyway.

'Nice. What model?' she asked.

I frowned at her.

'I don't know … some sort of convertible. It was black.'

'Mm, I like silver better for a convertible. How did he find you?'

'We were there when it blew up. Dom gave him my card.'

'Ah, so Dom's seen him. Well, best you introduce me. I can be like an insider.'

'If you get inside,' I said.

She smiled.

'Is that a challenge?'

****

I arrived home to find Dominic asleep on the couch with Atlas next to him. The TV was on and neither of them heard me enter. Good to know they were both alert to intruders. I made a mental note to increase my contents insurance. Dom didn't sleep over on a Tuesday night because of classes at 6 am the next morning. I wondered if he was a little insecure or checking up that I didn't bring the stallion home with me. I watched him for a few minutes. He was too big for the couch and had his feet extended over the armrest. Atlas - who wasn't allowed on the couch - had managed to worm his way in and find a comfortable spot behind Dom. The football was on and the remote was still in his hands. Atlas looked up, and, in a wild show of affection he wagged his tail, yawned and went back to sleep. I decided to let Dom snooze until after I had showered and washed my make-up off.

I stood under the hot water thinking about my case. I loved saying that. I checked off the facts that I knew: Ren had no enemies that he knew of; the family business was secure; he wasn't seeing anyone's wife and he was an avid collector. I still had to explore that. He was a wealthy mummy's boy and had several best mates including Vince and Benny. He played soccer. I was yet to investigate that one, too. He received a call just before the car exploded and claimed that it saved his life, but his life may have never been in danger.

I closed my eyes and rinsed the conditioner from my hair. I had to talk to the police; I needed to know where the bomb had been planted and how it was triggered. The thought made me shiver. Much scarier than publicity!

Something touched me and I jumped. It was Dom and he was naked. He got into the shower next to me, drawing me closer with his hands around my waist.

'Why didn't you wake me?' he frowned.

'You two boys looked so comfortable.'

He moved his head from side to side.

'You need a bigger couch. Yours has given me a crick in my neck. If we move in together, I've got a huge couch.'

'It's your other huge asset that I'm particularly interested in,' I teased.

****

The police station was brand new and clean. Even the crims looked better in these surrounds. At the front desk I asked for Officer Jason Abingdon. We'd spoke earlier by phone and he was expecting me. Eventually he appeared. He was good looking, tanned and compact; about five foot eleven and built of solid muscle. His hair was shaved to stubble all over his head, probably because it made him look tougher. His eyes were a light blue. He invited me into a small interview room.

'Nice building.'

'Yeah, we've only been here two months. Another six months and it'll look as bad as the others.' He smiled and showed off a set of straight, white teeth - the product of braces somewhere along the line. I wondered if his parents hoped those teeth would be engaged in a legal or medical profession rather than police duties.

'So, Renzo Leonardo,' he said, opening the file.

'Ren to his friends!' I added. The uniform was making me nervous.

'Yeah, our pal, Ren,' he smiled again. 'Okay, what can I tell you? The car's burnt to a cinder. Shame. Mercedes Roadster…'

'Uh huh, I know.'

'The bomb was a homemade explosive consisting of ammonium nitrate fertiliser and sugar.'

'Really? Sugar? It always seemed such a friendly substance.'

He laughed. My jokes worked much better on Officer Abingdon than Ren.

'How was it detonated?' I asked.

'We don't know. The bomber probably used a commercially available plastic explosive like semtex as a detonator.'

'So you know how it was it triggered? He wasn't near the car so he didn't start the engine or open the door.'

'We don't know that either.'

'Any theories?'

'Sure. It could have been set off by someone sitting nearby who pushed a trigger when they saw him coming…'

'That would suggest that they never meant to kill him, just scare him.'

'It would,' Officer Abingdon agreed. 'Or it could have been timed so that it went off at a particular time whether he was in the vehicle or not.'

'If that's the case, it was definitely his lucky day,' I added.

'You can say that again. It could have been set off by a mobile phone.'

'Really?' I sat forward, my interest sparked. 'Ren received a call on his way back to the car.'

'Did he say who it was from?'

'No. He said he couldn't hear who it was. It might be in the phone calls received list… unless it was a blocked number,' I grabbed my pad and made a note. 'Using the phone as a trigger, who would have thought?'

'Modern technology, it'll be the end of us all,' Officer Abingdon shook his head.

'Do you know a bomb expert I could talk to?' I asked.

'I can give you a few names from our bomb squad. See if they can help,' he grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a few names from a black folder. 'You can tell them that I sent you. If you find anything, keep me in the loop.'

'Sure and vice versa, please! While I'm pushing my luck, any chance you could run a search on a guy called Vince Palino? He's one of Renzo's best friends and staying with him at the moment.'

'Do you think he's involved?'

'Wouldn't have a clue.'

Officer Abingdon laughed.

'I just wanted to eliminate him.'

'Yeah, I can do that,' he agreed. 'It'll cost you a coffee though.'

I smiled.

'Small price to pay!' Officer Abingdon was hitting on me. It could come in handy. I nodded at the file. 'Nothing else in there that could help?'

'No.' He pulled out the photos of the car in flames. 'We pretty much told you what we told Renzo. I'd say Renzo's annoyed someone big time.'

****

'Know any bomb experts?' I asked Ed as I dropped my handbag behind the desk and threw Renzo's file into the In tray.

'Gee, let me think. No!'

'Do you want to think for a little longer, see if someone comes to mind?' I teased him.

'Okay,' he agreed. I watched as he turned his blonde head skywards. Every hair was perfectly in place. Within a second he turned to look at me. 'No! I don't know any. I do know an artist, however. Elizabeth is due for a meeting in fifteen minutes. We're discussing her gallery launch. So glad you could make it in time.'

I frowned.

'Can't you handle Ms Summer and her memories?'

He grinned.

'Yes. But at least she'll get to meet you. Otherwise she'll think I'm just making you up.'

'Have you seen the artwork in question?'

'Yes.' Ed answered without enthusiasm.

'Right. I take it you won't be buying a piece from the Memories of Summer collection?'

'No,' he dropped his voice. 'You might say I'm more of a winter man.'

We heard the elevator stop at our floor and did our best to look busy; we don't want clients to think we sit around all day, even though that was pretty much what we did.

I felt a rush of air as Elizabeth whirled in. Ed rose to meet her and I followed. I was expecting a bohemian artist but she was just the opposite. Elizabeth was about thirty-five and manicured to within an inch of her life. She wore a chiffon dress that made her look like she should be waltzing. I suspect she was more interested in being a starlet than an artist.

'I am so pleased to meet you and thrilled that you're going to publicise my event. I feel Memories of Summer is my best work to date,' Elizabeth gushed.

'That will make our job easy,' I smiled, 'Ed was just saying how truly impressive it was.'

'Oh you!' She lightly hit his arm.

'I'll make some coffee. You two head to the board room and get started,' I offered.

'Let's do that,' she lowered her voice and winked at Ed.

I took her coffee order and gave him an encouraging smile that wasn't reciprocated. I would mention that in his performance review.