Pool Of Lies Part 11

As the automatic doors parted for Miss Ko's re-entry, she turned back toward him and waved. Or she gave him the finger. The sun was in his eyes, so he couldn't be sure.

Danny never thought he'd be glad to see the beady-eyed ogre of a house. Compared with any number of scenarios that might have awaited him, it looked pretty d.a.m.n good. The dumpster had been moved to where it wasn't the first thing you saw. Somebody had been working on the overgrowth of privet hedge-gone-to-jungle. He could actually see the flagstone siding-the beast's hide.

"Somebody's been busy," he remarked.

"Josh and your contractor," offered Sandy.

Danny climbed the five steps to the front porch slowly, pausing for breath after each. Rae and Sandy adjusted their pace to his.

At the third step he noticed the remains of half-choked rose bushes peeking out of a cleared s.p.a.ce beside the steps. Pieces of a broken bird bath lay bare to the afternoon sun. Somebody's garden had smothered and died here. The thought cut off his breath more than the gradual climb: he and Deidre had lived in this house together for three years. He'd never noticed what was under the debris. For a brief moment, he felt a twinge of regret. It pa.s.sed as he realized the extent of the improvement his efforts had wrought.

When they walked through the front door, Danny could actually see a room, not just boxes of junk that had to wait for the next dumpster load.

"Josh," he called.

"We're in the kitchen, Dad."

Sandy turned on the recessed lighting, necessary even in daylight because of the dearth of windows, and placed his briefcase on the dining room table. Rae deposited Danny's night case in a corner, then took a seat across from Sandy.

Danny was in no mood to get down to the nitty-gritty legal stuff until he'd hugged his son. Sandy's meter was just going to have to keep running at three-fifty an hour.

In the kitchen Josh and Beth were cooking. Well-not actually cooking. They were cutting up unfamiliar food articles: vegetables.

Danny put an arm around each kid and hugged.

"Dad, you look really...better. Pale, but not as bad as the first day. That was scary."

"I hope you're hungry," added Beth. "We've got all kinds of goodies from the health food store. We're making sure you're gonna eat right."

"I'm not a rabbit." Danny looked at all the green stuff. Not all of it was green. Tofu patties. Some of it looked vaguely familiar. Like out of his childhood. Before his first fast food fix. Not sure he could survive healthy living, he scanned the counter top, looking for the carton of Marlboros he'd left there. Gone. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what the kids had done with it.

Josh didn't lose his good humor, but he was firm. "I have a list from the doctor. Foods you're not supposed to have. Your cholesterol is out of sight."

Danny tried to smile. The kids had obviously gone to a lot of trouble. He wondered who had paid for the spread, as well as the large basket of fruit he noticed on the counter top.

Beth must have followed his glance. "That's from Aunt Morgan and Uncle Nate."

He gulped, choking back the urge to say something totally inappropriate. Like about the apples. He could see apples peeking out of green cellophane. d.a.m.ned if he was about to touch one of 'em.

"It's a peace offering," Josh said.

Danny forced a smile while his mind rolled around the words apples from a.s.sholes. No need to dump his vitriol on the kids.

"I have to meet with Sandy and Rae now. We'll have salad after. Okay?"

He could hear the kids whispering as he walked into the next room and closed the French doors.

Sandy and Rae had their heads together, and Sandy already had a legal pad full of notes as Danny sat down at the long, ornately carved mahogany table that had been in Deidre's family for generations.

Beneath the table was an oriental rug-also an heirloom-that had been cleaned and sanitized, but still showed the stains of human puke and s.h.i.t. Before he and Dee separated, he had been one of the contributing parties. The stains were now so faint that Rae and Sandy probably didn't notice them. But he knew where they were-each and every one.

"Lakewood P.D. has reopened Deidre's case," began Sandy. "Rae's friend Veronica has been a.s.signed to both Deidre's death and Kevin's."

"If anybody can get justice for your wife, it's Veronica," added Rae.

He was supposed to say something enthusiastic. "It won't bring Dee back," was all he could muster. "You guys want some salad?" He watched looks pa.s.s between Rae and Sandy that said his was not the expected response.

"Maybe another time." Sandy looked at the kitchen door. "Is that your stepdaughter in there with Josh?"

He'd forgotten that neither Sandy nor Rae had met Beth. "Sorry, my manners..." He moved toward the door meaning to bring the kids out.

Sandy stopped him with a gesture. "No. It's just that she looks pretty chipper."

"I...guess she's coping the best she can."

"Stan Eisley is deflecting any interrogation of Beth because of her fragile emotional state. She just doesn't look that fragile. Do you know if she had much contact with Kevin?"

Danny exhaled in a whoosh. "They barely spoke when Dee was alive. I doubt that her death changed that. Kevin's been a loser ever since I've known him. And Beth is a sweetheart who doesn't deserve any of this c.r.a.p in her life."

"I think questioning her is just a formality," said Rae. "Are there any financial considerations we should be aware of?"

"Maybe Morgan doesn't want to share Grandpa's estate. Maybe she brought in JJ to do the dirty work."

"That's not what I meant," said Rae. "I just want to be sure there aren't any surprises down the road-like a million-dollar insurance policy on Deidre's life."

"If there's a policy of any size out there somewhere on Dee, I a.s.sure you that no one will be more surprised than I. And you can bet your a.s.s that I wouldn't be the beneficiary."

"Good," said Sandy. "No motivation, and as far as we know, they don't have anything to tie you to Kevin's death."

"My prints must be all over that house."

"You had reason to be at the house. It would be suspicious if your prints weren't there. Now, Rae wants to ask you something."

Until now, Rae had appeared unusually subdued. Now she looked like a racehorse at the starting gate. "There may be a need to change our strategy," she began as if weighing each word. "Your observation about a possible money motive for the two deaths has to be followed up. Also, we need to know exactly what sums, if any, JJ Camacho got from Deidre, or anyone else for that matter."

"Makes sense to me."

"I'll cut to the core. Veronica has asked me to help her with these two cases."

"Great."

"Well, I thought so. You may not agree." Rae looked over at Sandy, then back at him. "Lakewood P.D. has offered me a contract for my services. I'd be doing forensic accounting for them on a per case basis."

"Fantastic."

"You hired me to work on your wife's estate. There could be a conflict of interest."

"I see...I think. Kind of like Gil's firm representing the Bayfield family at the same time he was supposed to represent me."

"Not exactly. My code of ethics as a CPA is different from the code for lawyers. I'm not supposed to be an advocate. Not for you or anyone. I'm supposed to be objective. The problem is that this work is going to overlap. Who's going to pay for it? How am I to divide my hours?"

"Hey, don't sweat it. At least you'll get paid by the city." Danny meant it to pa.s.s for humor, but neither Rae nor Sandy even cracked a smile.

"I don't doubt that you'll pay me. It's only a matter of time before the properties are made whole and sold. Bottom line is that I need to resign as the estate accountant if I accept Veronica's offer."

Danny looked at Sandy for comment.

"I can't advise Rae in this matter. I'm your attorney."

"Who's going to finish the work on Dee's estate?"

"And the good news," Rae smiled rea.s.suringly, "is that I'm done with the three personal tax returns, and Sandy is willing to take over completion of the 706 for the estate, if you're willing."

"I think I can live with that."

"The bad news is that there's a big chunk of personal income tax due for last year because of the payout from the grandfather's estate. You'll need to conserve estate a.s.sets. No more expensive lunches for your professional help." Here she smiled. "I'll try and get penalties waived because of the circ.u.mstances."

Danny smiled back His knees, under the table, trembled slightly. Nothing his recent heart attack couldn't account for.

"Do you have any problem with my sharing financial information I got from you with Veronica?"

"Why would I?" Danny shrugged.

"Whether or not I accept the city's offer, somebody is going in to audit the Bayfield financial records," continued Rae. "A judge has already signed the order."

"Does this order include Dee's personal records?" Danny asked.

"Of course," said Rae. "Her records are part of the big picture."

"There's something I forgot to mention," said Danny as casually as he could manage. "The loan on the house funded."

He watched Sandy's eyes avoid Rae's. Her need to know had just been minimized.

"This house?" asked Rae.

"Yeah. I needed cash to pay Pat Keech." When his words drew an angry look from Rae and a raised eyebrow from Sandy, he quickly added, "And to pay you guys. About time, don't you think?"

Sandy's displeasure was palpable, but Danny knew there wasn't a s...o...b..ll's chance in h.e.l.l that he'd elaborate on it in front of Rae.

"Shouldn't it have gone into the estate account?" Rae's question was inevitable.

"The t.i.tle company made the check out to me as the managing member of the LLC that held Dee's properties. I was going to make a transfer to the estate's account, but a funny thing happened to me at the sheriff's station." His attempt at humor fell flat.

"Why don't you just give us our checks now?" Rae, ever practical. "Save postage."

"Can't do that. My bank put a hold on the funds. I think it's up, but I have to make sure."

"No harm, no foul. We'll make the disburs.e.m.e.nt to Rae from the estate account." Sandy shook his silver mane, as if to rid himself of the aggravation he so obviously felt.

Danny smiled, tight-lipped. That could be a problem, he thought.

At the end of her shift on the second day after her conversation with Reggie Navarro, the La.s.siter tape was still burning a hole in Emily Wehr's brain.

She'd replayed it at home, and some new ideas jumped out at her. She remembered Reggie, behind the one-way gla.s.s, watching her interview of the La.s.siter woman. It hadn't seemed weird at the time, considering Camacho was his snitch, but... Should she confide in Commander Marsh, in case he really didn't know what he was burying?

A quick flashback to Reggie and the commander in a closed conversation did in that idea.

Wehr's routine had changed. Now her Glock went home with her in its holster, covered by a linen jacket.

It was still plenty light outside at 8:00 p.m. when she arrived home. Not much traffic to battle at that hour. She lived in a pleasant apartment in a two-story fourplex on Youngfield. It wasn't a secured building, but she had installed dead bolts on both doors and locks on the windows when she'd first moved in five years ago.

It was like any other night until she entered the kitchen and found the lid of the trash canister slightly open. She'd never properly a.s.sembled it and you had to put it back just so. And just so was how she always left it. Neat to a fault, her mother had said of her with pride. Obsessively picky was how her ex-boyfriend had put it.

The edge on her nerves sharpened as she walked into her bedroom and noted the plaid bedspread. Not rumpled exactly. More like dented, as if someone had sat on it, then tried to straighten it out again. The hairs on her arms rose, not from the air conditioning, but from the thin gap she observed between the bottom of the bedroom window and the sill. The window was unlocked.

In one swift movement, she drew her gun and swept the room, holding the weapon firmly with both hands. She had never shot anything but targets at qualification. As she kicked open a closet door, the steadiness of her hands surprised her. After locking the window, a methodical efficiency took over as she searched each room of the small apartment.

Nothing was missing. TV, stereo, VCR, even the diamond pendant her parents had given her for college graduation-all present and accounted for. But all had been touched in ways only her eyes could see.

When she was satisfied that the intruder was no longer there, she holstered the Glock and returned to the bathroom. Wehr was still breathing rapidly as she opened the doors of the small marble-topped vanity. She had to kneel down to reach the Tampax box at the very back of the storage s.p.a.ce. To her immense relief, the La.s.siter tape was still inside the box.

It was not quite dark at 9:30 when Wehr turned off her laptop after printing out some items of interest: law enforcement openings in other jurisdictions. She needed more than a transfer. Goodbye, Colorado. She eyed one of the printouts with special interest. h.e.l.lo, Nebraska. How far would she need to go? What could she do to ensure she wasn't followed? And, really, if somebody wanted to find her and had the right connections, there was no place that was far enough.

There was not a doubt in her mind that the intruder had been Reggie Navarro. She'd been correct in her a.s.sessment of him-a macho a.s.shole who'd rather stick his hand in a pile of s.h.i.t than in a Tampax box. Even so, it shocked her to think he'd actually violate her privacy like that. It was one thing to suspect and take precautions, but quite another to have her suspicions confirmed.

Moving to the kitchen, she opened the freezer and took out a burrito which she popped into the microwave. Somebody needed to see the tape. If for no other reason, to give the vic's family the truth. Part of the truth still eluded her, but she had her own thoughts on what had sparked Reggie's sudden interest in resurrecting that tape. Maybe he'd worked undercover so long that the lines were blurred. It happened. Maybe Reggie wasn't beyond a little blackmail.

That thought dispatched what remained of her appet.i.te. She pushed aside the burrito, washed away the taste with a Diet c.o.ke, then turned down the air conditioning.

How to detach from the d.a.m.n tape without destroying it? Veronica Sanchez. She wanted it, though she didn't know it existed. Wehr reached for the landline phone on the kitchen wall, then had another thought. If Reggie had the b.a.l.l.s to break into her apartment, bugging her phone wouldn't give him a second thought. A public phone in a public place was what she needed right then.

The evening was turning cool. She put on her linen jacket, now wilted from the drive home, and grabbed her laptop. n.o.body needed to see those job sites she'd just visited. Unnecessary precautions. Maybe. Wehr locked the front door after her and walked out to her car.

As she slowly drove away, she observed a dark gray Crown Victoria pull out from the curb and follow her. A red light stopped her at the intersection of Youngfield and Ward Road. The Crown Vic lagged behind, but one glance at the bulky silhouette of the driver said it all. f.u.c.k you, Reggie.

As she drove, she felt her options narrowing. Reggie was driving his unmarked WRPD vehicle, meaning either he was on duty or had completely crossed the line.

If Reggie was on duty, did this mean she was being set up to take the fall for deleting the La.s.siter file? If push came to shove, who would confirm her orders to make it disappear? For sure not Commander Marsh, one year away from retirement. What had they thought? That because Mrs. La.s.siter had been a messed-up crack head it was okay to cover up her a.s.sault? End justified the means? But, what if somebody outside their little department thought differently? Who would be sacrificed?

And Reggie was still on her a.s.s. Not really. A couple of cars back. She turned right, down Colfax Avenue. The traffic was light. He had to really work at staying with her and not appearing to do so.

Wehr replayed the day of Deidre La.s.siter's interview. Reggie had already been tapped by Metro, probably because he could give them JJ.

She remembered how he'd just popped into the station when two other Wheat Ridge guys had brought in Mrs. La.s.siter. As she watched Reggie get stuck at a light, she asked herself how come he plopped himself down behind the one-way gla.s.s to watch her take the vic's statement? Reggie had known about the welfare check and came in to run interference for his boy, JJ Camacho.