Death Loves a Messy Desk (36 page)

When he blew into Jumping Java, Robbie had an array of printed candid shots of Barb as well as a CD. I’d scored a table and picked up two cappuccinos and some biscotti just before he got there.

“What kind of lead?” Never mind
hello
.

“It’s a long story.”

He dangled the CD under my nose. “I’m trusting you. You have to trust me. What kind of lead?”

“Okay. This may be a shock.”

He stiffened.

“The woman you know as Barb Douglas is really someone else.”

“What?”

“The real Barb Douglas is dead.”

“It’s not such an unusual name. There could be lots of people . . .” He slumped in his seat.

“Accept it, Robbie.”

He nodded. “It explains a lot. But why would she hide that from me? Why wouldn’t she trust me? I would have kept her secret.”

I didn’t bother to suggest fraud or other criminal activity. “We’ll find out. I am sending a couple of these photos to a colleague of the real Barb Douglas to see if he recognizes her.”

“Will she get in trouble?”

“She’s already in trouble, Robbie. We’re trying to save her life.”
Or save ourselves
, I thought, as I took the CD from his hand. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

Robbie jumped to his feet, creating a cappuccino puddle. “I’m coming with you. I want to talk to this guy.”

“Forget it. He’s in California.”

“I’ll fly out there.”

“If you want to help, ask your father what he’s hiding. He hired Barb. I think he knows who she is.”

He slumped back into his chair. “He won’t tell me anything. He treats me like I’m a wayward teenager. You really think he knows?”

“Yes. And if you don’t think he’ll cave, work on Fredelle.”

“Even Fredelle knows something?”

“Pretty sure. She said that your father called and told everyone to leave Quovadicon the afternoon that Dyan was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t call. Someone used my cell phone to call the office. Figure it out.”

He frowned as the implication dawned on him. “But Fredelle knows my father’s voice. She’d never make a mistake like that.”

“Exactly.”

Robbie stared at the puddle of coffee on the tabletop. “Fredelle’s been in my life since I was born. She’s like family. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can find out.”

At home, I inserted the CD and sent the best of the photos to Hugo Speigl. Nothing to do but wait on that front. I decided to keep busy until I heard back. I practiced SIT and STAY with Truffle and Sweet Marie until I ran out of dog treats. Still no e-mail.

I took their dog bedding and tossed it into the washing machine to freshen it up. I fluffed my pillows.

Nothing from Hugo.

I know, I know, people actually have to make a living. But this wasn’t turning out to be that kind of week. When people try to kill you, you deserve time out for a while. I figured it would take months if not years to get the dogs up to speed. Even though the evaluation might be months away, I hadn’t been so worried about a test since high school algebra, which in retrospect was a cakewalk compared to getting Truffle and Sweet Marie to SIT and STAY for longer than a nanosecond.

Two minutes later: nothing from Hugo. A walk would help. I attached the leashes and we headed down the stairs and around the block five times at full speed. That was enough to blow off steam. We were all panting when we returned, and I picked up Truffle and Sweet Marie and staggered up the stairs.

I squeaked in distress as a vision descended, blocking access to my apartment.

“Oh,” Blair said, sounding slightly put out. “There you are.”

I was so not in the mood for people with long legs and big mouths and other attributes too annoying to mention suggesting that I hadn’t been exactly where I should have been.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t panic. Jack just asked me to fill you in on his situation.”

I resented the hint that I might panic. I mean, really, who did this woman think she was?

“Jack has a situation? Well, that’s an improvement. Congratulate him from me if you run into him, please.”

“Try to be mature about this.” She smirked.

Now why did that comment make me want to feed her to the fishes? I shook myself. What kind of thoughts were taking over my brain? I have never done anything violent in my life. But the veneer of civilization is thin, and now I had motivation.

“Would you mind not blocking my access?” I said icily.

She stepped aside. “What will I tell Jack?”

“Anything you like. I’m quite busy, and I can’t stand on the stairs all day talking to you. You might mention that.”

She shrugged. “He said to remind you about the pledge form.” She reached into some mysteriously hidden pocket. “I have an extra one in case you have lost yours.”

I stepped farther up the stairs so I could look her in the eyes. They were my stairs, after all. Why not use them to my advantage?

“I do not lose things.”

Her smirk returned. I knew what she was thinking. I’d lost Jack and she’d found him.

I slammed around the apartment afterward, bothered by this ridiculously perfect golden vision. I ate two Mars bars and checked my messages, but I had none. Nothing from Jack, despite the urgent messages I’d left him even before my trip to Reg Van Zandt. And still nothing from Hugo.

I ate the last tub of Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. It just seemed right. As a rule, I would have split it with Jack, but that wasn’t going to be happening.

The dogs regarded me with their intelligent and beady little eyes, assessing their chances of getting the empty B & J’s container to rip apart.

“Forget it,” I said.

Again with the looks.

“I am
not
jealous,” I added. “Not even a little bit. What’s more, I have never been a jealous or envious person. Everyone who knows me is well aware of that. So don’t bother trying to make me feel bad.”

Sweet Marie yawned. Truffle turned his back to me and curled up for a nap in a strip of late-afternoon sunshine.

“We’ll be training again in a minute, and you’d better get everything right or you can kiss treats good-bye.”

They cocked their little heads and studied me. Maybe this time they’d have to try a bit harder.

In the meantime, I kept busy rearranging the items on my desk and re-rearranging them. Everything looked wrong. Everything. Even my cozy little apartment seemed wrong, the dogs seemed wrong, and I seemed really wrong.

What was the matter with me? Jack was an independent person. At one time I would have also added
loyal
, but it seemed that people change. Even so, there was not a single good reason why he couldn’t have a relationship with a woman who looked like a genetic triumph. He was a big boy. Why shouldn’t he spend all his time with a manipulative, tall, totally-devoid-of-humor person?

I could always find someone else to tell my troubles to, someone to watch loser flicks with, someone who would always show up when I needed help, someone to bring sandwiches to and share ice cream and laughs. Someone who loved animals. Someone funny and intelligent and kind and generous, who didn’t mind coming to the rescue when required—well, until recently.

How hard could that be?

I checked my e-mail and picked up the phone. I did my best to be polite when Hugo answered.

“Did you get the photos?” I asked evenly.

“Yes, yes. I did.”

I rubbed my temple. “And do you know her?”

“I did, but there must be some mistake.”

“Mistake? What mistake?”

“She wouldn’t pretend to be Barb. I can’t imagine that. Especially because—”

“Who wouldn’t? Especially because what?” I tried to keep my voice level. Hugo knew this person and, unless I was wrong, liked her a lot.

“I don’t want to say.”

“Suit yourself. But her life’s in danger.”

“I am sure it is not. Angie could always look after herself. She was strong and independent. That’s why she decided to become a police officer. I haven’t heard from her in a long time.”

“What? Angie was a police officer?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you tell me her last name?”

“I don’t think that would be wise. I would need her permission, and I haven’t seen her in years. Not since Barbara’s funeral.”

As Pepper answered her door, my cell phone vibrated. I let it go. Pepper looked worse than the last time I’d seen her. Had she been crying? Pepper never cried. Didn’t even believe in it. That was one of several legacies from her father, some good, some not so.

“What now?” she said, leaning against the doorjamb.

I blurted out, “You’re really pale. Is everything all right?”

“I’m all right,” she snapped. “You’re kind of pale yourself, but without a good excuse.”

“In that case,” I said with a weak grin, “maybe we should both sit down.”

“Make it short. It’s my predinner nap time.”

“No problem. I’m in kind of a rush, myself.”

She lowered herself onto the sofa and glowered at me.

I waited until she got comfortable. “So, do you want to tell me what Angie was up to? It would sure make my life easier.”

Her jaw dropped. “Angie who?” she said unconvincingly.

Of course, I had no idea Angie who. “You know Angie who,” I said.

“If I do, it doesn’t make it your business.”

“It’s my business when she disappeared after almost running me down. It’s my business when a woman is killed and I’m attacked. It’s my business when trucks try to run me down.”

“Angie has nothing to do with that.”

“Yes, she does, Pepper. You know it and I know it.”

She took a deep breath, flinched, and put her hand on her belly. I wanted to say,
Don’t play the baby card
, but for once I didn’t think she was playing at anything. I said, “Is she working undercover? Is that why you can’t tell me?”

She shook her head. “Angie is not your business.”

“Did you go to the academy together? Is that it? You don’t want to expose another cop? You have to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. Get that through your thick head.” Pepper glowered.

I refused to be sidetracked by insults. I knew that Pepper grew up with verbal slings and arrows, and they were one way to keep control. I’d consoled her often enough when we were kids.

“I need to know if she’s dangerous or if she’s in danger.”

There was a long silence from the sofa.

“You know why that’s important, Pepper.”

“I don’t want you to make the situation worse.”

“What is the situation?”

She curled her lip. Not a good look for someone in madonna mode. I decided I wasn’t leaving without the information.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll ask Connor Tierney. I believe you mentioned he was at the police academy with you. If you knew Angie, I bet he did, too.”

She sat up straight and winced. “Don’t tell him anything. He’s the most ambitious SOB I ever met. I wouldn’t trust him not to . . .”

I refrained from mentioning that Pepper was the most ambitious person that I’d ever met. For a woman, she could still manage to be an SOB. I said, “Well, you talk or I will. What the hell is going on?”

“She never became a cop. She didn’t finish. She had a fling with one of our instructors, a married guy. Didn’t go well and she left. Last I heard she was doing security work, talking about getting her PI license.”

“So she wasn’t working with the police.”

“Not that I know.”

“What about the guy who died in the car? Do you know anything about him?” When it started to look like she didn’t plan to answer, I said, “Was he a cop? They must have an ID by now. There must be some reason why they haven’t released his name or that information.”