Triumph (28 page)

D
eke didn’t ask for details of the next interview with Konstantin, and Kelly didn’t offer any. She guessed Dwight had already briefed him.

Keeping her mouth shut was an interesting sensation. She hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days. He’d finally called her.

“Are you not talking to me?” Deke asked.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“You’re so quiet. It makes me nervous.”

“Just thinking.”

“Here’s the deal,” Deke continued, “based on what Konstantin has said so far, Dwight thinks he can drop a few hints to Natalie Conrad that would get her into the station for a private chat. Just him and her.”

“Really.” Kelly was irked. Deke had not only been briefed, he knew something she didn’t know. “What’s that going to accomplish?”

“Dwight might get somewhere with her. He’s good with women.”

“He must take lessons from you,” Kelly said dryly.

“It’s tomorrow. Can you make it?”

Kelly pretended to be blasé. “I think so. I have to go to WBRX tonight, though. Coral needs help with the Gunther Bach story. And Gordon wants me to help him edit our exclusive interview with the security guard’s mom. Curt’s doing better but he’s not out of the woods yet. Viewers are really rooting for him. We set up a fund for the donations.”

“That’s great. How are you doing?”

“About the same,” she replied. “I jump every time I hear a loud noise and I still don’t sleep too well.”

“We got the bastard.”

Kelly was silent for a moment. “But not the bitch.”

For a miracle, Deke didn’t start lecturing her. “Be patient.”

“Not my strong point, Deke.”

“You need to work on that. Anything else?”

Yes. I miss you.
She wanted to say it. She bit the words back.

“No. Thanks for calling.”

“You bet. See you around.”

 

It was a relief to retreat to her office. Kelly leafed through the material Coral had collected. “You must be working night and day.”

“Just about. What’s going on with you?”

Kelly chose her words carefully, keeping her promise to Lieutenant Dwight in mind. “Okay, you know who Natalie Conrad is and some of the back story with her—”

“Yes,” Coral said avidly.

“It’s possible that she’s involved somehow in the Gunther Bach case.”

“Ooh.”

Kelly hesitated. It seemed unfair to even hint at Coral taking on more work, but the junior reporter-slash-assistant was so eager.

“There is one fingerprint that hasn’t been identified at Bach’s apartment,” Kelly began, then stopped. Was that fact on the forbidden list? If it wasn’t, it would be.

Coral made a note of that on the outside of a file folder. “Anything else?”

“No. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“That’s okay,” Coral said. “Listen, are you sure you’re ready to come back to work? Some of us have been wondering—”

That was a red flag to a bull. Kelly snapped out of her mood.

“I’m here, aren’t I? That’s all I have to say. Bring me up to speed on WBRX. How did you all survive without me for a week?”

Deke joined her in a first-floor waiting room at the police station a half hour before Natalie Conrad’s scheduled arrival. The lieutenant’s coaxing had worked.

“I assume we’re not invited,” Kelly said.

Deke nodded, glancing out the window at a scattered mob of media people. “Dwight warned me not to show my face. I guess I should get out of here. She might not come in the front of the building, though.”

“I can understand why.”

“Any WBRX reporters out there?” he asked.

“Maybe. That’s not something I have control over.”

Deke studied her for a moment. “Granted. But Lieutenant Dwight might think differently.”

“He can think what he wants,” Kelly retorted. “That happens to be the truth.”

He nodded, looking out the window again. “Hmm. That looks like a national news van. I didn’t know Natalie Conrad was that important outside of Atlanta and Dallas.”

“Don’t forget Paris and New York and Moscow and a few other cities you may have heard of.”

Deke raised his eyebrows. “Well, Dwight is going to be wearing kid gloves. She won’t get treated like an ordinary suspect.”

“Is she officially a suspect?”

“Natalie Conrad is now a person of interest,” Deke hedged. “But I doubt he would say that to her face.”

“Does he really think he can get her to talk?”

“He has his doubts. Apparently he couldn’t talk her out of bringing her lawyer.”

“Who is it?”

“Gerry Boudreaux.”

“He’s expensive.”

“Like I said, she’s not that broke.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I forgot to tell you the latest. We got an internal customs report from ICE. Her European representative was stopped at Heathrow with paintings taken off their frames and rolled up. He tried to get through customs without declaring them, and it turns out they were valuable.”

“We know she’s selling art. He must be taking them to foreign auction houses on her behalf.”

“Apparently he didn’t say. Maybe he stole them from her. The rats could be deserting the sinking ship.”

“I don’t feel sorry for Natalie Conrad.”

“Let’s stop talking about her for five seconds,” Deke replied. “Maybe we could try for a whole hour.”

Kelly understood what he was getting at. She thawed a little. He seemed to sense it.

“Want to head upstairs to our office?” he asked. “I’d like to be behind a closed door before she gets inside the building.”

A stir on the sidewalk outside the window got Kelly’s attention. “Wait a sec. I think that might be her. Maybe she is coming in the front. That’s not her sports car, though.”

It was a recent luxury model, black and sleek, but anonymous somehow.

“Must belong to Boudreaux,” Deke said.

“Good guess. I think you’re right.”

Kelly was fairly sure that Natalie was behind the closed window. Was she the only one who thought so? The media mob didn’t rush over.

Large sunglasses hid the woman’s eyes, but Kelly knew Natalie well enough to recognize her with them on. She stared at her through the glass. A memory nagged at her. Then it hit.

For a moment, peering out from the window of the black car, Natalie Conrad’s face had looked exactly like the face of the woman in the red wig.

“That’s incredible. I just had a flashback to the shootout,” Kelly said. “That was her in the car in the parking lot.”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen Natalie in sunglasses. They aren’t the same as the ones she wore that day, but they’re just as big.”

“Sure you’re not seeing things?”

“Not completely sure,” Kelly admitted, looking again. “But it’s not just the sunglasses. Natalie’s mouth usually doesn’t look that tense.”

“Could be a lot of reasons for that,” Deke observed. But he was curious enough to move behind Kelly and take a discreet look on his own.

Kelly stared harder, hoping the reflections hid her. It was hard to tell because of the sunglasses, but Natalie seemed to be looking at the milling reporters on the sidewalk and not at the police station building.

“I know why her mouth looks different,” Kelly said suddenly. “I remember thinking her lips looked too full at the ball. Sort of blurry. Too much collagen will do it. She must have had an injection right after the shooting.”

“Maybe so.” Deke seemed unimpressed. “Which is proof of nothing, except that women notice stuff like that.”

The black car pulled away. No one outside followed it. “I’m not going to argue the point.” Kelly really wasn’t that sure. “Let’s get out of here.”

They turned a corner and stopped at the vending machine to get a couple of bottles of water. The young female sergeant Kelly had met the previous day said hello, stopping to chat.

The sound of high heels got Kelly’s attention.

Natalie. She was going the wrong way if she was heading for Lieutenant Dwight’s office.

The older woman stood stock still, her gaze fixated on Kelly. She whipped off her sunglasses. “If it isn’t Kelly Johns,” she said in a strangely composed voice. “Dwight didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“I was just leaving,” Kelly replied.

“Why? You might be interested in what I have to say to him.”

Kelly hesitated.

“I came to talk to Dwight as someone who truly knew Gunther Bach. There are rumors going around that I don’t need to repeat. Hurtful, untrue rumors.” She smiled thinly at Kelly. “I’m sure they’ve reached you. Perhaps you even ferreted them out.”

Kelly gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boudreax, a powerfully built man in his forties, hurried up, looking daggers at Kelly. He spoke to his client. “Mrs. Conrad. Please.”

“Don’t interrupt. I’m chatting with Kelly Johns.”

Kelly took a step forward, trying to edge past Natalie. The older woman blocked her way.

“Lieutenant Dwight is waiting for us,” the lawyer said.

“Then he can wait a little longer.”

The lawyer put a restraining hand on her arm. “Don’t plead your case in the halls, Natalie. I told you not to.”

Natalie whirled to face him. “Get your hands off me, Gerry Boudreaux. Do you want to see yourself on the news?” She jabbed a finger at Kelly. “She can help you with that.”

Had Natalie gone off the deep end? It sounded like it.

“Not now. Not here.” The lawyer again.

Gerry Boudreaux’s good advice probably cost a thousand dollars per hour, Kelly thought, judging by his suit and shoes.

Natalie chose to ignore his comment. “She came to my house. She pretended to be sympathetic. I was too distraught to tell the difference. Such a sad day. And I had an unexpected visitor. She overheard a quarrel. So unfortunate.”

The venomous undertone in the other woman’s voice made Kelly hold up both hands in a peacemaking gesture. “No, I didn’t.”

“I remember differently. I had my suspicions at the time. And now . . . what are you doing here?” Natalie advanced on her, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor.

“I really was just leaving,” Kelly said. She sensed Deke move behind her, a clear message to the infuriated Natalie that he had her back.

Natalie’s dark green eyes glittered with rage when she glanced over Kelly’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you before. This man is not your fiancé.”

Half-crazy. Possibly certifiable. But not stupid. Kelly didn’t answer.

“You lied to me about him too. He must be a detective. The damned police and the reporters are all in bed together. And to think I thought you might be my friend.”

That was taking it too far. Kelly began to edge away. There was nothing to be gained by arguing with someone this angry.

Natalie snapped open her Hermès bag and took out a handkerchief, pressing it to her mouth. “I feel sick. Gerry, take me home. There’s nothing to be gained by talking with Lieutenant Dwight. He’ll probably feed every word I say to this whore.”

“Actually—” Kelly began, then shut up. Measured footsteps echoed behind her.

“Excuse me.” The lieutenant brushed past her. “Mrs. Conrad, I can see that you’re upset. I want to assure you that our interview will be entirely private.”

“I don’t have to talk to you, Lieutenant,” Natalie snapped. “I came in because I hoped I could clear my name and—explain a few things. But that’s impossible.”

She turned and stormed out. Her lawyer followed her without a backward glance.

Dwight turned to Kelly, his anger showing in his eyes. “Thanks for blowing the interview,” he snapped.

“I didn’t mean to. I just happened to be standing here when she appeared.”

The lieutenant didn’t seem interested. He strode past her and back into his office.

“Deke. Talk to him.”

“Later. Over a beer.”

“No, now,” Kelly insisted. “I played by his rules. You know I did.”

“I’ll tell him that. We’ll get her one way or another.”

“How?”

Deke lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “Konstantin told us last night that she was behind everything, starting with thieving on a colossal scale.”

“What?”

“She used to belong to the mafiya. They think big.”

“That can’t be.”

Deke kept going. “You got in her way. You were the only person who actually saw her at the scene of the shoot-out. Then there were the threats to you. Gunther’s murder. The drive-by. The bomb. She did the planning, he carried it out. They really have known each other for years.”

“No,” Kelly whispered.

“You may have been the only person who ever caught her in the act.”

“But I wasn’t even trying.”

“Do you think she cared, Kelly? And by the way, Gunther Bach didn’t steal her fortune. She took him for all he was worth. She’s had years of practice. Natalie’s brilliant at what she does.”