Hot Spot (22 page)

DANNY HAD CLEANED UP HIS OFFICE —A RELATIVE term—and then taken out his newest Ferrari that went from zero to sixty in 4.2 seconds. The 612 Scaglietti had a V-12 engine with 540 horsepower and a top speed of 196 miles per hour. And once he hit the freeway, he turned up the stereo and let it loose.

Pissed at the job that had been done on his office, more pissed that a woman who intrigued him might be involved, he needed solitude, speed, and the Rolling Stones to sort out the agitation in his brain. Traffic was light on a Tuesday, the radar device on the dash kept him out of jail, and he slowed down from time to time when the flashing light indicated highway patrol in the vicinity. The green rolling hills and farmland passing by went unnoticed. He had too much on his mind. Starting with his list of suspects that may not be anywhere near complete. A second heist attempt so soon after the first smeUlled strongly of an outside operation—as in outside the state and possibly the country… regardless whether amateurs were involved. Whoever was financing the hit was in a hurry—and unconcerned with leaving a mile-wide trail. He made a mental list of his competitors in the incestuous world of video games; he knew most everyone. And then he began mentally ticking them off one by one, categorizing them in order of predilection and motive.

His cell phone rang outside of Eau Claire, and slowing down enough to not rate as a menace on the highway, he glanced at the caller ID. Buddy must be responding to the message he'd left earlier.

"You rang?" Buddy quipped.

"I have a couple questions you might be able to help me with."

"Shoot. If it's about Stella—"

"It's not about her," Danny interrupted, not inclined to discuss the complexities of that situation. "I've had a couple break-ins lately—one last night."

"I know some PIs if you need help."

"It's probably just kids looking for electronics to pawn," Danny lied, "but in the event it isn't, I was wondering if anyone was around when I talked to you Monday morning. Anyone who might have heard you say we were going golfing. You were the only call I took that day. Except for Marisa, but hers was the usual invitation for sex. Nothing new there."

"What time did we talk?" Buddy asked.

"Ten, ten-thirty."

"Kirsty might still have been with me. She stayed over Sunday night. I'm not sure when she left. Before I headed for the club. But exactly when, I couldn't say."

"Was anyone else at your place?"

"Unlike you, I limit myself to one lady at a time," Buddy said, drolly.

Danny let that pass, not about to point out an occasion or two when Buddy hadn't. "So Kirsty might have been around?"

"It's possible. I didn't pay attention to the time until later when I was concerned with making our tee time. You don't think Kirsty was involved?"

"Nah. But she might have spoken to someone. She's the friendly type. Do you know much about Brian?"

"Kirsty brought him with her Saturday. I think he's into software like you. Or was it telecommunications? He lives large near Lake Calhoun. Good address, nice car, unattached."

"Is he from here?"

"Born here, you mean? I'm not sure. I thought Kirsty said something about transferring from somewhere. Was it L.A.?"

"You think?" Danny's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"I thought she mentioned something about Malibu, but she might have been talking about her sister who's trying to break into acting out there. Call her and ask. Kirsty would
love
to hear from you, my man. Speaking of women you know, I saw Stella today when I went to pick up my weekly supply of comics. I asked her how you two had gotten along and she said fine. Bring her along on the boat next weekend."

"My sister and her family are coming into town," Danny lied. He wasn't about to explain the unexplainable.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. Really. They're coming to see the new Ikea store."

"Bring them along, too. The weather's supposed to be hot."

"You don't know my sister. She has her schedule etched in stone."

"Sorry about that. But hey, I know sisters, especially if they're older than you. I'm going to invite Megan and, if it's not crowding your territory, Stella, too."

"There's no territory involved. Ask away."

"If your sister should change her mind or she buys out Ikea in time… you know where I'm docked. We'll leave about one."

"Thanks, but you know how it is with family. You have to look interested."

"Fortunately, my family keeps their distance in Florida or Gull Lake. Not that I don't like their company, but only in small doses. I hope you're insured on those break-ins."

"It wasn't much. It's not worth reporting." He was self-insured on his specialized equipment anyway. "One more question. Did you happen to tell anyone we were going golfing? I'm trying to figure out if someone might have known I'd be gone." He couldn't ask "Did you talk to Stella?" without sounding paranoid.

"Just Darren and Louis, but they don't know anyone you know."

"Thanks for the info."

"Not a problem. It looks like you need a bigger gate."

"I'm thinking about it. Have a good weekend."

"Same to you if it's possible," Buddy said, amusement in his tone.

The details about Brian focused Danny's attention on a man who might be related to the video game industry—Buddy's recall of a software or telecommunications background not reassuring.

He'd have Brian checked out by a retired detective he knew. Frank Stanchfield knew just about everyone at City Hall after thirty-five years on the police force.

Time to turn around and do some fact checking. Exiting the freeway at the next overpass, he crossed over the highway and headed back home.

First a call to Frank, then go online and have a night vision camera FedEx'd to his place. He should have it in place by tomorrow afternoon. In the interim, he'd stay home tonight and stand guard. The next time someone tried to break in, either he'd be there to greet them or the security camera would capture their image, light or no light.

Why hadn't he thought of Frank and the night vision camera before?

Maybe if his brain wasn't clogged with Stella Scott shoulda, woulda, coulda doubts and still drying out from an excess of Grey Goose vodka, he might be operating on more than three cylinders.

He really should stop and eat.

Food. Okay? His brain was really not cooperating.

Anyway, food would help regenerate brain cells suffering from yesterday's alcoholic overload.

There—right ahead. It must be a sign. It
was
a sign.

A billboard extolling the merits of AUNT MAE'S HOME COOK-ing, BEST PIE IN TEN COUNTIES, NEXT EXIT, 500 FEET.

He slammed on the brakes.

FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, BOTH STELLA AND Danny gave true meaning to the phrase "throwing them-selves into their work."

Between the next issue of
Marky B
, Megan's campaign sign, her math tutoring, and minding the store, Stella worked nearly around the clock.

Danny isolated himself in his office and concentrated on adding a new character to his latest video game. Strangely, or not so strangely, the action figure turned out to be a tawny-haired beauty who scrambled men's brains if they didn't get out of her way fast enough. She could stage an assault from six different angles and in four different disguises. A psychiatrist might have had something to say about the evolution of such a character.

When the new security camera arrived, Danny installed it, along with adding a better lock on his office door. He put a camera out by the gate as well. So much for the bucolic countryside.

On Friday, one of the charities Danny funded for inner-city students called to invite him to their annual picnic next month. He was smiling when he hung up, reminded of what was important in life. Not vengeance. Not sex. Positive, socially relevant action for the betterment of the community. That's what.

Callie McCann personified a community activist in spades. She was also the most upbeat woman he'd ever met. She was never down when she had a dozen reasons every day that would have brought the average person to their knees. Her main job was running a youth center that offered after-school activities for kids of all ages. She not only managed it day to day, she was also its major fund-raiser, cajoling money and merchandise from individuals and businesses to keep it afloat. Danny was one of their prime contributors; he also offered his time and expertise to the state-of-the-art computer center he'd donated to the facility.

In addition to supplying funds for everything from basketballs to Barbie dolls, he also gave college scholarships to deserving kids. To date, he'd paid expenses for two hundred six students to complete their undergraduate degrees; another fifty-four had gone on to graduate degrees, thanks to him.

He earned obscene amounts of money from what could only be characterized as a frivolous pursuit. The North Side Center was a good place to spend it.

BY DINT OF hard work and full-blown denial, Stella and Danny managed to get through the week. They even managed to convince themselves that they were over any infatuation they might have had for each other.