Читать книгу Tempest Court - Jan Walters - Страница 11

Chapter 5

Brett entered roll call the next morning and abruptly skidded to a stop. Former Sergeant George Taylor stood near the front of the room. What the hell is that asshole doing here? The last that he knew, Taylor had been demoted to a patrolman and stuck filing reports so someone could keep a close eye on him.

Taylor and the previous police chief were involved in a scam involving money laundering and who knows what else. When the FBI closed in, Taylor turned witness and ended up testifying for the Feds. The greasy little weasel got off scot-free as far as Brett was concerned.

Taylor’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Brett glaring at him. Taylor’s light brown hair had turned to gray. He still combed his thin hair over to cover a bald spot. The combed hair glistened from some hair goop in the harsh overhead lighting. A hurricane couldn’t move that hair.

Brett slid into a chair, and Randall plopped next to him.

“O’Shea. Who’s the new guy up front?” Randall whispered.

Brett’s eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t feel like talking to Randall. “Taylor.”

Randall looked at Taylor and then turned back to him.

“What’s his story?”

Brett’s fingers clenched. “I’m not Wikipedia.”

Randall’s soft chuckle drew looks from other officers.

“Funny. I saw you staring at Taylor just a moment ago.” Randall paused, lowering his voice even more. “I take it you don’t like him much.”

Brett turned sideways in his chair, so his back was to Taylor, but he was facing Randall. “You’re right. My advice is to never turn your back on him.”

“Shit. That sounds ominous.”

“Okay, let’s drop it.” Brett swung around and faced the front of the room. Now wasn’t the time nor the place to discuss Taylor.

After roll call, Brett took the stairs two at a time to his office. He closed the door and walked to the window overlooking the Des Moines River. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. Seeing Taylor brought back memories—bad memories. Taylor had been jealous: jealous because Brett had been quickly promoted to detective and had solved a significant murder investigation; jealous because he and Anders were friends. Bottom line, Taylor didn’t care for Brett and vice versa.

Someone pounded on his door. He straightened and turned.

“Yeah.”

Marge poked her head in the office.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded and smiled. “Why?”

Marge peered over her purple glittery glasses. Her powdered brow wrinkled. “Your green eyes aren’t sparkling,” she glibly muttered. “No, really, you look mad or annoyed about something.”

“I just saw Taylor in roll call.”

Marge’s lips pursed together. “I heard they were sending him to Traffic. I never cared for the guy, though I suppose I shouldn’t say anything.”

Brett stepped toward the secretary and flashed a crooked smile. “Thanks, Marge.”

She chuckled and patted his chest. “Got to look after my boys, you know.”

At that moment, Foster appeared in Brett’s doorway. He glanced at Marge’s hand on Brett’s chest. Red infused Foster’s cheeks.

“Uh, sorry. I’ll…”

“For heaven’s sake, there’s no hanky-panky going on.” Marge grinned as she breezed by Foster.

Brett chortled at the bemused look on Foster’s face. “What did you need, sir?”

Foster shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Wait. I’m trying to erase that scene from my memory.”

“Marge was just checking on me.”

“Really? I thought she was copping a feel.”

“Ha ha. You’re killing me, Foster.”

Foster’s smile faded. “I just found out that Taylor is back. Anders just told me that you and Taylor had issues in the past.”

“That’s an understatement.” Brett took a deep breath.

Foster frowned. “I didn’t think he was starting until next week. At least, he isn’t your sergeant anymore.”

Foster walked to the window. His broad shoulders blocked the outside view.

“Are you going to have a problem with Taylor?”

Brett stared at the back of Foster’s frame. Foster’s steely gaze watched his reflection in the window. “No. Since we’re working in different bureaus, we won’t have much contact with one another.”

Foster swung around and faced Brett. “Fine. By the way, Randall has some extra time, if you need help on any cases.”

Brett’s eyes widened. It would be a cold day in hell before he’d ask for Randall’s help.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

When Brett’s office phone rang, Foster glanced at it and nodded. “Go ahead and get that. We’ll talk later.”

* * * * *

A glance at the phone screen showed Lisa was calling.

“Hey, sweetie, are you busy?”

Her perky voice brought a smile to his face. “Nope. What’s going on?”

“Do we have anything planned for tomorrow night?”

Brett checked his calendar. “I’m clear. Why?”

“Well,” she rushed on, “remember my college roommate, Layla Tamoor? She moved back to Iowa a few months ago. She’s in charge of the new Egyptian exhibit at the Art Center. I want to take her out to dinner or have her over to the house. What do you think?”

“Is she married?”

“No. Layla’s single. Why?”

“Do you want me to invite Donnellson? That way I’ll have someone to talk to while you girls visit.”

Donnellson was walking by Brett’s office and must have heard his name because he stopped and entered.

“What?” Donnellson whispered.

Brett held up a finger, indicating for his friend to hold on.

“Donnellson?” Lisa groaned. “He’s such a womanizer. Besides, I don’t know whether Layla is dating someone.”

Brett glanced at Donnellson, who was intently listening to the conversation. “Okay. Just think about it. See you tonight after work. Bye.”

Donnellson shoved Brett’s papers to the middle of his desk and sat on the corner of his desk.

“What’s up?”

Brett eyed the jumbled papers on his desk before glancing at his friend. “Lisa invited a college friend over for dinner tomorrow. I asked her if she wanted me to invite you to join us.”

A lopsided smile lit Donnellson’s face. “What does she look like?” Donnellson’s eyes held a predatory gleam.

Oh shit! That could mean trouble for Brett. If his friend upset Lisa’s friend, he was screwed.

Brett stared at this friend. “I don’t know. I’ve never even met her. I don’t even know if she’s dating someone else. If you are invited, you’re not sleeping with her. Got it? It’s just dinner.”

Donnellson grinned. “Hey, I need to check out my options. Besides, what’s in it for me?”

He walked over to Donnellson and punched his shoulder. Donnellson’s face scrunched up. “Ow! What was that for?”

Brett jabbed a finger at the detective. “You get a free dinner out of it. That’s all.”

Donnellson slapped a hand over his heart. “Damn. You’re killing me, O’Shea. But I want a steak, not some cheap-ass burger.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you know what’s going on. Don’t mess this up. I don’t want Lisa on my ass.”

Donnellson paused at the doorway and turned toward him. “You owe me for going to dinner with someone I don’t know. Just remember.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

Brett shut his office door. As he pounded through the backlog of e-mails, Brett’s thoughts drifted to the package that arrived yesterday. Had Michael really heard a sound coming from inside? He hadn’t meant to dismiss Michael’s comment. Truth be known, he felt a little guilty because he knew that Michael was upset last night.

Brett ran fingers through his hair, scratching his head. Ever since he returned from vacation, he felt unsettled. Are we being watched? He shook his head, laughing off his suspicions.