Читать книгу The South Beach Search - Sharon Hartley - Страница 10
ОглавлениеOffice of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of Florida.
TAKI GLARED AT the gold leaf letters adorning the heavy wooden door to Reese Beauchamps’s office. Of course she wasn’t actually experiencing déjà vu. She had already been here once today, at 9:00 a.m., when she’d left two photographs of her missing Tibetan bowl with a receptionist before setting off to the pawnshops.
She pushed open the door. What an adventure that had turned out to be.
At the sixth musty, crowded, depressing store she visited, she found a man who thought maybe someone had possibly come in with something that looked like her bowl yesterday. A bit vague, sure, but she’d been thrilled and pressed him for more info. But he put her off, telling her to come back later and talk to his boss.
“I’d like to see Reese Beauchamps,” Taki told the same pale, pregnant receptionist from this morning, having decided it best to relay the information directly to Reese. While she normally avoided lawyers like flu germs, she hoped his authority might encourage the pawnshop owner to talk.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked. She placed her hand on her swollen belly and winced as if in discomfort.
“No. But I have valuable information I’m sure Reese will want. Please let him know I’m here.”
The receptionist lifted arched eyebrows at the use of his first name. “Your name again, please?”
“Taki.”
“Taki...?”
“Just Taki. How far along are you?” she asked.
The woman rubbed her abdomen and sighed. “Six months, but I have nausea like I’m six weeks. If it doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to go home.”
“Have you tried ginger?”
“Ginger?”
“Ginger makes a soothing herbal tea. Small amounts are safe for the baby and, trust me, it works. Cinnamon also helps. You might add some if you like the taste.”
The receptionist smiled dubiously. “Thanks. I’ll let Mr. Beauchamps’s secretary know you’re here.”
After the woman slid her frosted window shut, Taki seated herself in the waiting room and glanced at the wall clock. Almost one-thirty. Looking around, she noted sleek and modern furnishings that didn’t look all that comfortable. Plenty of magazines littered tables to help pass the time, but she’d rather meditate, if it came to that. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have long to wait.
Guru Navi always said waiting was an opportunity to spend quality time with yourself. But would Reese make her wait awhile? Was he that busy?
The only other person in the room was a balding elderly man. She smiled at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. Instead, he closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Becoming more and more concerned for him, Taki suffered along with the poor man while he twitched and uttered quiet moans. Every few minutes he rose and limped around the small room, sat again, then struggled back to his feet, pressing both hands against his lower back.
She nibbled at her bottom lip. All the signs of a bad lumbar area. She’d helped more than one chronic back patient with either yoga or herbs. Why not assist another while she waited for Mr. Big-shot Lawyer?
“Are you all right?” she asked. She’d learned most people loved to talk about their pain.
“It’s my lower back,” he said and sucked in a quick bit of air as if it were torture to even breathe. “Hurt it on the job.”
“Where exactly does it hurt?” Taki asked, making her voice soothing and sympathetic.
“Right at my belt line. Never goes away.”
“I’m so sorry. What does your doctor say?”
The man took a few hesitant steps. “That there’s nothing he can do. I’m old and just got to live with it.”
“Orthopedist?” she asked.
“And a damn neurologist. Every test in the book.”
She nodded. So he’d already consulted the Western medical specialties.
“Damn quacks,” he muttered.
“You poor thing.” Taki rose and approached the man. Before beginning, she asked what she always asked, even in her yoga classes. “Do you mind if I touch you?”
“What for?” he asked, eyes wide, but now looking at her with interest.
“Maybe I can help.”
* * *
WHEN THE INTERCOM BUZZED, Reese muted the sound on the DVR and rubbed his tired eyes, irritated by the interruption. Agent Rivas was probably correct that no clue to Claudia Romero’s location existed in this two-year-old videotape deposition, but he had to try. Perhaps she’d casually mentioned a second home or a place she liked to escape to on holiday.
Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she contacted him? And why had Claudia refused to accept protective custody until her ex’s trial? Jury selection would begin in less than three weeks. The woman couldn’t possibly think she was safer on her own.
“What is it?” he said into the speaker. Reese reached for a roast beef sandwich delivered twenty minutes ago and loosened the plastic wrap. The sharp fragrance of the horseradish made him realize how hungry he was.
“Taki is here to see you,” Joanne said. “Shall I show her in?”
Reese dropped the sandwich and paused the DVR, already moving toward the long hallway to the reception area. “I’ll get her,” he told a startled Joanne as he strode past her desk.
Javi Rivas, out in the trenches working seedy pawnshops, reported an hour ago that a knock-out blonde named “Wacky” or “Tacky” had flashed photos of the bowl in some of the worst sections of Miami. He needed to put a stop to that immediately.
What had possessed the woman to search on her own?
She’d already annoyed him by dropping off the photos this morning and disappearing—here and gone before he could inform the receptionist to ask her to wait, that he needed to speak to her.
Taki was obviously in a hurry to make herself the next crime statistic in Miami-Dade County.
Reese opened the door to the waiting area and came to a shocked halt. Taki stood in the center of the room, her graceful hands probing the naked back of Robert Shinhoster.
“Ah. This is the place,” she said, stroking her index finger across the bony ridge of the old man’s spine.
Reese wasn’t sure which surprised him more, the surreal sight of the two of them or his irritated reaction. Taki’s hands were all over Robert Shinhoster, an injured federal worker who had been driving the entire office crazy about his case for months, but why should he care?
She was so focused on Shinhoster, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“Okay,” she told Shinhoster, dropping her arm. “I want you to mash up a chili pepper, mix it with a white skin cream, and rub it on this spot. But wear plastic gloves when you work with the preparation because it might irritate your hands. And don’t use the cream right after a hot bath or shower.”
“What will that do?” Shinhoster asked.
“The capsaicin in the pepper confuses the nerves and you focus on a temporary mild burning more than the ache in your back. I also recommend willow tea for its anti-inflammatory properties, massage—lots of gentle massage—and hot packs alternating with cold. When the inflammation goes down, start yoga classes. This time next year, you might be pain free.”
“Excuse me,” Reese said.
Taki looked over and smiled. “Hi, Reese.”
He hooked his hand under Taki’s arm to draw her away from a dazed-looking Shinhoster and out of the room.
“Hey, thanks,” Shinhoster yelled as the door closed.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reese demanded when they faced each other in the long hallway.
Taki’s sapphire eyes clouded at his words. “I was helping that man. He’s in a great deal of pain.”
“And he’s trying to squeeze money out of the U.S. government for his supposed pain.”
“Only because he thinks he’s been cast aside. Poor dear feels disliked because he worked for the Internal Revenue Service. He says no lawyer will believe an auditor could get a bad back.”
Reese stared into her earnest face and realized the woman was absolutely serious. “And where did you get your medical degree?”
“I’m not a doctor,” she said, straightening her slender shoulders. “I’m an herbalist.”
“Then why are you behaving like a private detective?”
She blinked twice. “What?”
One thing at a time, Reese told himself. He glanced at the openmouthed receptionist who followed the conversation with keen interest.
“Let’s go to my office,” he said, motioning Taki ahead of him.
The effortless, regal way she moved reminded him of silk flowing over smooth skin. Taki appeared to glide more than walk. She looked curiously around her, her gaze peering into every open room along the corridor.
“Hold my calls,” he told Joanne as they passed her desk and entered his office. He closed the door and turned to Taki, whose gaze had zeroed in on his view of the sparkling water of Biscayne Bay.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to practice medicine,” he told her.
“I certainly know better than that,” she said. “I didn’t charge Mr. Shinhoster a thing. My advice is always free.”
Reese shook his head, imagining the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Unlicensed Yoga Teacher Caught Prescribing Drugs in U.S. Attorney’s Office.
“He can take my advice or ignore it. It’s his choice.” She shrugged. “But just think. If I cure his pain, then he’ll leave you alone. If he listens to me, he could probably return to work soon, but I think he’ll probably opt for retirement.”
Reese stared at her. “You discussed his future employment plans?”
“He needed someone to talk to. But enough about that. I have news.” She waved her hand, apparently intending to leap to a new subject. “I have a lead on the bowl,” she announced, excitement shining in her sky-blue eyes.
“A lead?” Reese placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “No doubt from one of your pawnshop visits?”
She nodded and flashed a dazzling smile. “I did what you suggested and took a photo to pawnshops. The clerk at Jacques’s Hock—” Taki reached in her jeans pocket and handed him a crumpled business card “—says to come back and talk to his boss this afternoon. I thought you would want to know. I was thinking it would be better if you went and did your...lawyer thing.”
Reese glanced at the card. “I never suggested that you go to pawnshops yourself.”
Unfazed, she continued to smile at him expectantly, obviously pleased with herself and totally relaxed in faded blue jeans and a bulky pale blue cotton sweater. He’d never been less relaxed. He took a deep breath and released it in an explosive whoosh.
“Listen, Taki, your misguided efforts are undermining the work of my field agents.”
Her smile faded. “They are? How?”
“The FBI is tracking an extremely dangerous man. Believe me, you don’t want this guy to discover you’re looking for him. He might come after you to find out why.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and clasped her hands behind her.
“Let the authorities handle this. You could get yourself hurt.”
She shifted her gaze to the floor, looking so disappointed he resisted a foolish urge to make her feel better. Taki desperately wanted that damn bowl back and had worked hard to get what she considered a huge break in the case. He had to give her that.
Still—best not to encourage her. A woman who looked as good as this one shouldn’t hang out in the wrong sections of Miami.
Her gaze drifted around his office and stopped on his roast beef and Swiss on rye. “I interrupted your lunch.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I guess I was too busy screwing up your investigation.”
“Would you like half of my roast beef sandwich? I have sodas in the refrigerator.”
She raised a horrified gaze to his. “Thank you, but I’m a vegetarian.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling foolish but not sure why.
Her very kissable lips curled into another smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this woman?
“Let me take you out for a healthier lunch,” she suggested.
He didn’t have time to leave the office for lunch, hadn’t gone out for lunch in weeks...hell, maybe a month. The Romero prosecution might be high-profile, but it was far from his only case. He had way too much work to do this afternoon. Her invitation was out of the question.
Unless he could learn more about her bowl and why it had been taken.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said in a tempting voice. “The temperature is around sixty-eight degrees, the sky is bright blue and a fresh breeze is blowing. Weather like today’s is the reason thousands of people visit Miami every winter.”
He hesitated, fascinated by the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. She didn’t wear any sort of makeup, and no wonder. Why spoil perfection?
“The fresh air will clear your mind,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ll even be more productive afterward.”
“What the hell,” Reese said, wondering where his usual sense of urgency had vanished to. The Romero case would just have to wait. A man was entitled to eat.
He grabbed his coat and touched her back lightly. “Let’s not invite your new patient to join us.”
He’d intended to take his rented vehicle—the Jag was still at the dealer for repairs—but she insisted driving would only stress him out more and he needed to relax. So with a few misgivings, he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.
She bunched her hair into a navy blue beret. “Otherwise it gets hopelessly tangled,” she told him, then accelerated into traffic.
He loosened his tie, relishing the warmth of the sun on his face. The cool wind made conversation impossible while she careened way too fast along I-95. He glanced at the speedometer and tightened his seat belt.
And speeding on the interstate in Miami won’t stress me out?
He had no idea where she was taking him, but hoped they got there in one piece.
* * *
TAKI DECIDED REESE seemed even more familiar today. Much more familiar.
They were seated across from each other at a booth in The Spiritual Kitchen, her favorite restaurant. The sweet fragrance of curry hung in the air, and the faint, peaceful sound of chanting filtered through the sound system.
Reese concentrated on the menu, squinting and holding the paper at arm’s length.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if the feeling was mutual. That’s why she’d asked him to lunch even though she usually avoided lawyers—as she did all negative influences.
Leaning forward, she asked, “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”
Reese looked up and frowned. She wasn’t sure if he reacted to her question or the menu.
“Familiar?” he said. “How so?”
“As if maybe you had known me before.”
Reese sat back and rubbed his eyes. “You mean before our vehicles were broken into?”
She nodded.
“As in déjà vu?” he asked.
“Well, something like that.”
“No,” Reese said with the beginning of a smile. “Believe me, I would definitely remember you.”
Before Taki could reply, a turbaned waiter arrived to place a ceramic teapot and two matching cups on their table.
“You honor us with your visit, Taki,” the thin Indian man said with a slight bow.
“Thank you, Teshvar,” Taki replied, steepling her hands into prayer position and nodding in return. “Do you have any veggie stew left?”
“Always for you.”
“Then we’d like two orders, please, and lots of your special whole grain sesame bread.”
With another bow, the waiter disappeared. Taki returned her attention to Reese, who now studied her with an amused expression.
“Do you always order for your guests?” he asked.
“But you don’t know what’s good. Don’t worry. I promise you’ll love their special, and it won’t poison you like the lunch you were going to eat.”
As Reese regarded her across the table, she sensed he didn’t like losing even the tiniest little bit of control. She decided he was one of those men who needed to dominate everything and everyone around him. The fine tailoring of his charcoal double-breasted suit and cranberry silk tie screamed position and power. Pay attention to me. I’m important.
Just like her father.
“How about some peppermint tea?” she asked, disappointed in herself again. Why was she always so quick to judge this man? She didn’t really know him, at least in this lifetime, and she wasn’t being fair.
She poured them each a cup of tea, then dribbled honey from the jar on the table into her own brew. Her aim was a bit off, so she caught a slow-moving drip on the side of her cup, then licked the thick nectar from her finger. When she glanced up, she found Reese’s attention focused on her mouth as if he could taste the sweetness on her lips.
She lowered her gaze and stirred the tea. Steam drifted toward the ceiling between them. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled mint and orange blossoms. Maybe she was quick to judge him because he unsettled her so thoroughly. And because she found him so very attractive, which was of course ridiculous, considering—
“Do I seem familiar to you?” Reese asked, his voice calm and steady in the confusion of her senses.
She took a sip of the tea before answering. “I don’t know. I feel some sort of strange connection, but I can’t explain why.”
“Maybe it’s because we both were victims of the same crime two days ago.”
“So we’re like a victim support group?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“No. The way I felt was...well, strongest when I touched you the night of the theft.”
“When you touched me?”
She nodded. “When we shook hands. I’d like to try an experiment. Do you mind if I touch you again?”
He gave her a lazy grin. “Well, that depends on where you want to touch me.”
Heat flooded her cheeks as she said, “I want to touch your third eye.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“The third eye is the center of insight and intuition. It looks beyond the physical world.”
“And just where is this special body part?” he asked.
Taki bit her lower lip and gazed at the furrowed spot between and just above his dark eyebrows. “Right here,” she said, touching the spot lightly with her index finger.
A jolt of his energy rocketed through her, shooting all the way down to her toes. His eyes widened, and she knew the voltage affected him, too. She lowered her hand.
“Did you feel that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah, I felt it.” He leaned forward with his forearms on the table, holding her gaze. “Does that mean we’re attracted to each other?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I think it proves my theory that you’ve been harassing me through several lifetimes,” she said, sitting back.
“Harassing you?” Reese narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, anyway, we’ve known each other in a previous lifetime, probably several, and we have some issues to work out.”
Reese went still, but continued to stare at her.
“And now I need to help you find your stolen briefcase while I find my bowl,” she continued. “That way the negative energy will finally be severed between us and we’ll both have what we need, improve our karma.”
“Sever...negative...energy.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “And that’s a good thing?”
Taki nodded, surprised to be telling him the theory she had formulated last night after calling her guru at the ashram to tell him about the theft and meeting Reese. Navi agreed that the instant connection she had felt to Reese could be because they had known each other in previous lives. Of course that’s the only thing that made sense. She couldn’t be attracted to a man so like her father, so slick, arrogant and impatient.
Guru Navi had taught her so much, and they’d come such a long way together, how could he be wrong about this?
“I see,” Reese said. He tossed back the peppermint tea as if it were a glass of whiskey. “Tell me more about your bowl,” he said, with a look that suggested she’d suddenly sprouted wings and might fly like one of her angels. “You said it’s valuable because it’s one of a kind?”
“Yes,” she said. “My guru suggested a difficult task in order to ease my terrible...” She trailed off. Better not to tell the whole story. It was obvious Reese thought her philosophy foolish, and telling him would only further widen the breach between them.
“Your terrible what? Go on.”
“The bowl isn’t valuable in the sense you mean. There are thousands of similar bowls—even in catalogs. Anyone can buy one.”
“Then why is yours so special?”
“I trekked to a secluded monastery in Tibet to have my bowl blessed. The monks suggested I allow it to remain with them for one hundred and eight days, a number with spiritual significance, and then they shipped it back to me.” She shook her head, remembering the kindness at the monastery. “My bowl can never be replaced.”
“You mentioned the bowl sings? In fact,” he said, “I seem to recall something about yodeling.”
“My bowl does not yodel,” she said, but understood Reese was teasing. “It doesn’t rap or sing arias, either.”
“Oh, perhaps rock, then?”
She fought a laugh. “When you rub a wand around the interior, the vibration makes the metal hum, producing a clear, peaceful sound. It also chimes when you strike the rim. So, yeah, it sings.”
Hearing the lovely, high-pitched tone in her mind, she smiled at Reese, wishing he would pry open his mind just a little. Too bad his head was already crammed full of legal mumbo jumbo. At least he had asked for an explanation.
He gave her a half smile. “Where did you come from, lady?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But I think you were there with me.”
“Two vegetarian stews,” the waiter said as he placed steaming crocks on the table. Next came a wicker basket overflowing with slices of warm bread.
They both ate for several minutes without conversation. Finally, Taki took a drink of cool water. “I guess we were hungry.”
He smiled at her over a spoonful of stew. “You were right. This is delicious.”
She took another bite, pleased that he liked her favorite lunch.
“How long have you been a vegetarian?” he asked.
“When I was thirteen, I decided I loved animals so much that I just couldn’t eat one.”
“I’ll bet your mother loved that.”
“My mother died when I was nine.” Taki almost choked on her water when she realized what she’d said. Why on earth did she insist on babbling her secrets to this skeptical man? Of course, he was partly right. Her decision to become a vegetarian had incensed her father.
“I’m sorry,” Reese said.
“That’s okay,” she blurted, knowing her words only made the moment more awkward. By the kind way he smiled at her, though, she knew his sympathy was genuine.
He offered her a slice of bread and took one himself.
“This soup is really good,” he said again.
With peace between them, she decided to tell him her plan. “That pawnshop I told you about isn’t very far from here.”
He eyed her steadily. “Which pawnshop is that?”
“Jacques’s Hock. Where the clerk said to come back about the bowl.”
“We are not going to any pawnshop.”
She stared right back at him, not liking his dictatorial tone. She took orders from no one.... Well, except maybe Guru Navi, but he never gave orders. Only suggestions. This guy acted as if he were a five-star general.
“Why not?” she asked. “We’re right here.”
He shook his head as he took another bite of stew. “That’s a job for trained federal agents.”
“Going to a pawnshop requires training?”
“In this case, yes.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “You love giving orders, don’t you? And you’re used to everyone doing exactly what you tell them.”
He dropped a piece of bread on his plate, his dark eyes focused on her. “Have you been following the Romero case in the Herald?”
“No.” Best not to tell him she ignored newspapers. They were full of nothing but negativity, bad news, sad news, making it impossible to live in the present moment.
“Carlos Romero is in jail awaiting trial on a long list of charges, including first-degree murder for blowing up a post office in Fort Lauderdale and killing four people,” Reese explained.
“I remember that,” Taki said with a shudder. Even she hadn’t been able to avoid the horrifying story of the victims of that violent blast. It’d made national news. Why did people always have to hurt each other?
“Murder comes easily to some people,” he said. “They stole my briefcase hoping to discover the location of an important witness. Fortunately, they found nothing.”
“Well, I’m glad of that. But why would murderers take my bowl?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“Then maybe a diversion, to throw us off track, or just an opportunity to make a quick buck. But I’ll send an agent to check out your pawnshop. I promise.”
“When?”
“May I finish the lunch you ordered for me?”
“Of course,” she said and took a sip of her tea.
Good thing peppermint is excellent for indigestion, she thought, because Reese looked as if he was in for a serious case of heartburn.
* * *
BACK AT THE federal building, Taki smiled at Reese’s secretary as they walked past her cubicle. She had a pencil stuck behind one ear and a pen behind the other. The poor thing looked totally frazzled.
“Sorry I’m late, Joanne,” he said and grabbed a stack of messages from her desk.
“Romero’s attorney is trying to reach you,” the secretary said. “And Agent Rivas has phoned twice. I canceled the three o’clock conference when you weren’t back. It’s rescheduled for tomorrow at four.”
“Thank you,” Reese mumbled as he entered his office.
“Wow.” Taki moved to the front of his massive desk as he stepped behind it, reading his messages. “I made you miss a meeting.”
“It wasn’t important,” he said, still shuffling through the pink papers in his hand.
As she sat in a well-padded chair, Taki watched Reese morph back into Mr. United States Attorney. He’d relaxed slightly at lunch, but on entering his office he reverted to all-business. Just like her father. Never enough time to get everything done.
He’d insisted she accompany him upstairs so she could hear him dispatch an FBI agent to the pawnshop, although she figured it was really because he wanted to keep her away from the place. But since that meant he was worried about someone besides himself, maybe there was still hope for Reese Beauchamps. She hoped so. Despite his arrogance and love of barking orders, she liked him, although she couldn’t figure out why.
She hated to think it was because he was so good-looking. What did that say about her? But he did have the most gorgeous dark brown eyes. If she let herself, she could stare into them all day. And she liked the way his thick brown hair sported just a little wave. If he let it grow long, it would be magnificent.
“Call your agent Rivas,” she said, disgusted with herself. “Then I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Right.” Reese dropped the messages on the desk, pulled a swivel chair toward him and picked up the phone.
To give him space while he spoke to the agent, she wandered around his large office with the fabulous view, examining various diplomas and certificates adorning the walls. Could pieces of paper tell her anything about the man?
She admired elegantly framed degrees from undergraduate school at Princeton and law school at the University of Florida. Her father had once wanted her to attend Princeton.
Without reading, she focused on the Old English script in a dignified plaque as a sickening realization shot through her.
That was the third or maybe fourth time in one afternoon that Reese had caused her to think of her father. Before today, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed the soulless monster to creep into her thoughts. Being reminded of the past never did anything but cause her pain.
The two men didn’t resemble each other at all physically, but both attacked life as if it were an opponent to be wrestled into submission.
She resisted the urge to run out of Reese’s office.
She needed to stay far away from this man. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. He behaved too much like her father and would destroy the serenity she’d fought so hard to create.
