Stealing the Moon & Stars Read online

  They turned and stood side-by-side for a few minutes, comfortable together. Sipping their champagne, they took in the carnival atmosphere as hundreds of costumed guests milled about.

  A French maid in fishnet stockings and a low-cut frilly mini-getup inched her way slowly by, making excellent use of a walker. She winked lewdly at Eddie and wheezed, “Hot-cha-cha!”

  The old girl moved on, leaving a priceless look of amazement on Eddie’s face. “Seriously? Ninety if she’s a day.”

  “Your appeal is universal.” Jordan laid her hand on his arm.

  Just like that, his eyes smoked over. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I’m only interested in one woman.” His voice was husky.

  She cleared her throat and looked away. She’d meant it as a joke. Hadn’t she?

  “Think I’ll call it a night,” she said. “Accomplished what I set out to, stirred Milo’s pot. Oh, and we’re back on the payroll.”

  “You talked to Nick?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Good job.” He tucked her hand into his arm. “Let me walk you out and brief you on what Diego’s accomplished.”

  “All right.”

  Female heads turned as they strolled together. Jordan didn’t blame them. Eddie was definitely worth a second look.

  “Milo likes to hit the tables at the Indian casinos after work. Diego said that over the course of three nights, he dropped more than ten grand.”

  “Whoa.”

  “There’s more. Figured you’d be anxious to hear about the Three Musketeers.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Wachowski met Ray Tanner and Emmett Sullivan at a sleazy bar over on Sixteenth,” he said. “The kind of bar a normal guy would only go to if he was trying to avoid being seen by anyone he knows. I’m guessing they figured nobody from their snazzy office would be there.”

  “Interesting trio.”

  “Diego was close enough to eavesdrop. Said Tanner was putting pressure on both of them to make good or else. He said Emmett got pretty hot. Something about Milo couldn’t pay him what he’d promised. Diego said he had some trouble understanding Sullivan.”

  I feel his pain. “Maybe the Three Musketeers aren’t quite all for one and one for all. More like every man for himself.”

  They waited for the valet to bring her Jeep. Jordan shivered in the chilly evening air and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  Eddie wrapped his arms around her from behind, cozy, comforting. They stood, looking up at the stars. His breath warmed her bare neck. “Nights like this, it’s a good thing you didn’t go for the Jabba the Hut Slave Girl outfit. Of course, I would have loved it.”

  She laughed. “Not tonight you wouldn’t have. I’m a landscape of scabs and bruises. I barely got the big one on my face covered up. Thank God for makeup, and while I’m at it, thank God for Hannah.” Her voice trembled. She was pretty sure it wasn’t all from the cool air. “And for you.”

  He seemed to pick up on her fearful mood. “You don’t have to be afraid tonight. No one will bother you.”

  The valet drove up in her car.

  She pulled away from him. “By the way, tough guy, you were supposed to wear a disguise.”

  “Hey.” He spread his arms. “I’m Al Capone.”

  She laid her hand against his cheek. “My point exactly.”

  He turned his face into her hand, kissed her palm then looked into her eyes. One corner of his mouth turned up.

  Her heart fluttered. You’re more dangerous than Al Capone could ever have been.

  “Good night, Mr. Capone. See you tomorrow.”

  She got in her car and took one last look in the rearview mirror in time to see him blow her a kiss.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jordan wanted to sleep in on Wednesday morning, but after what Eddie told her about Wachowski, Sullivan, and Tanner, she sensed things escalating regarding the foundation’s case. In other words, no sleeping in.

  She took a hot shower and had a look at the bruises left over from Sunday night. The reds, blues, and greens were beginning to run together in a sickly, unappealing palette. Her phone went off in the bedroom while she brushed her teeth. “Bad Boys.” It was Ann.

  Jordan hummed along, then answered, “Hey, girlfriend. What’s up?”

  Detective Ann Murphy of the Scottsdale PD was attached to the Violent Crimes Unit. Jordan had met her when they ended up on the same side of a missing person’s case. She and Ann hit it off right away. While they were as different as hip-hop and jazz, they were fast friends who respected each other’s strengths and understood each other’s weaknesses.

  “You know a guy named Ray Tanner?” Ann sounded serious.

  “Don’t really ‘know’ him. He’s involved in a case I’m working. Why?”

  “When did you see him last?”

  “Friday. Late in the day. Four, maybe four-thirty.”

  “You’ve had no further contact with him since then?”

  “No.”

  “What about Eddie?”

  “Eddie? What is all this? Why the sudden interest in this Ray Tanner scumbag?”

  Ann sighed. “Because the scumbag’s dead, Jordie. Somebody shot him in the head.”

  The room seemed to close in around her and Jordan had to breathe through her mouth to get enough air. She squinted and looked out between the shutter slats. Tank’s Range Rover was parked at the curb. The sight of him made her feel better.

  “Why’d you call me?”

  “Neil’s at Cloverton Insurance. It appears to be the crime scene. He said to call you. They found your card on Ray Tanner’s desk. I’m leaving the precinct now, heading over to Cloverton. Be there in a while.”

  “I’m coming down.”

  Jordan dressed quickly in jeans, boots, a T-shirt, and a Juicy Couture hoodie. She didn’t even bother to dry her hair, just put it up in a clip before she drove to the Cloverton offices.

  Two squad cars, two department Ford Explorers, an ambulance, and a car from the County Medical Examiner’s Office were parked in front of Cloverton Insurance. There was so much crime scene perimeter tape strung, it seemed like part of the landscape design.

  Ann was just getting out of her car when Jordan drove up.

  “Holy crap, Welsh.” Ann stared at Jordan’s face. “Who worked you over?”

  Jordan shrugged, too preoccupied to talk about that particular experience just then.

  Ann was dressed in her usual work clothes—black gabardine slacks and two-button blazer, with a white cotton blouse and red Converse high-tops. The only variation on her chosen uniform seemed to be khaki gabardine slacks and a matching blazer. Jordan had never seen her dressed any other way at work.

  Ann Murphy was a great-looking woman with naturally blonde hair she kept in a short pixie cut. As far as Jordan knew, those big blue eyes of hers never lied and seldom cried. The two women were like Mutt and Jeff. Ann was trim and short at about five-two, but Jordan knew any fool who underestimated her friend would regret it when he got tossed on his butt. She was a level four Tae Kwon Do and Jujitsu black belt.

  Detective Neil Thompson, Ann’s partner, was out by the curb interviewing Buffy, Cloverton’s office girl. The poor girl looked terrible. So did Neil, but then he always did. Neil wore his misery and negativity with a certain panache.

  The women waited until he was done.

  “Neil.”

  “Ann. Jordan.”

  Jordan nodded in response.

  “Can we go in yet?” Ann asked.

  “Yes.” He stepped aside for the two women then followed along behind them to the tape marker. They all stopped to put on shoe covers and rubber gloves before entering the building.

  Jordan’s heart pounded high in her throat. She balled her hands into fists and hoped neither Ann nor Neil noticed she was shaking.

  Ray’s body was on the floor in his office, the office she and Eddie confronted him in only days earlier. It was surreal—like being in a play.

 
; The air carried the cloying odor.

  “Crime lab been here already?” Ann asked.

  Neil nodded. “Meat wagon’s on the way. They timed it between five and seven this morning. Body’s still warm. Rigor’s set in. Crime scene unit was here too. You know how it is. Veni. Vidi. Vici. They came. They saw, measured, photographed, snooped around and logged. Then they left.”

  “So can I …?” Ann arched her eyebrows in question and gestured at the body.

  “Sure. Be my guest.”

  Ann squatted and peered at the corpse. “Who found him?”

  He jerked his thumb toward the door. “His secretary. The girl outside.”

  “Buffy.” Jordan’s voice cracked.

  Neil and Ann both looked at her.

  Ann turned back to the corpse. “Oh, here we go.” She wrinkled her nose at the gaping hole in Ray’s head. “Looks kinda personal, doesn’t it?”

  Jordan hadn’t seen many dead bodies. None this close.

  Tanner lay on his back, his left arm by his side, the right thrown above his head like some macabre flamenco dancer. His mouth gaped; his open eyes stared. She had the uneasy feeling he might sit up any second. His dragon’s head cane lay a few feet away.

  When Ann and Neil rolled the body onto its side, Jordan got a look at the exit wound and tissue spatter. Tanner wouldn’t be sitting up.

  The air hit the gummy pool of blood beneath his head, and the odor filled her nostrils. The sight of gore and brain matter, the blue gray film over his eyes and the sweet and salty stench of the congealed blood swirled around her like a swarm of bees. Jordan couldn’t breathe or think; she turned and staggered outside to the curb. Bent over, hands on her knees, she willed herself not to heave.

  Ann’s hand appeared in front of her face. “Try a peppermint. It helps.”

  Jordan took it and popped it in her mouth, giving Ann what she hoped was a look of gratitude. It was the best she could conjure up just then. Within seconds, the peppermint began to work. Her head cleared. The clean scent eradicated the sickening smell of death. Her breathing returned to normal. Her stomach stopped clenching.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah.” Jordan grimaced. “It’s not like this is the first dead body I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t happen every time.”

  Neil walked out. He handed her a foil-wrapped towelette.

  She ripped it open and wiped it over her face and wrists. It was cool and damp, its scent familiar and comforting.

  “We each have our little tricks to deal with this horror. It’s part of our wretched job. Don’t feel badly. We can’t know when it will happen. Sometimes it’s a certain odor. Sometimes it’s the way the crime scene looks or what we ate for breakfast, or didn’t eat.” He crossed his arms and took a step back. “Sorry, Jordan, but I have to ask why Tanner’s secretary would tell me you were here practicing intimidation on her boss last week.”

  Sneaky bastard. Waits to spring this interrogation on me until I can’t even hold my head up. “I caught him following me around. I wanted to know why, so Eddie and I paid him a visit.”

  Neil nodded. “Okay. Why did he say he was following you?”

  “He didn’t. He didn’t have to. We figured it out on our own.”

  “Is the reason related to those bruises on your face?”

  She didn’t answer at first. Ann gave her an inquisitive look.

  “No,” she said. Pants on fire. “Can I go now?”

  “Sure. You still don’t look so good. I’ll have one of the officers give you a ride.” Neil turned to his partner. “You’re needed here, Ann.” He raised his voice. “Officer Bukowsky?”

  “Never y’all mind.” The world righted itself again as one of her personal crew of guardian angels made his blessed appearance. Tank’s soft voice sounded like Gabriel’s trumpet. “Jordan’s already got herself a ride.”

  When she walked into the office, Eddie and Gina were there.

  Gina got to her first, threw her arms around Jordan and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

  On the verge of losing it, she could only nod. Gina stepped back; then Eddie moved in and took her by the hand and pulled her into his office. She let him.

  Her legs wobbled as he led her to the sofa and guided her down onto the soft leather. She drew in a ragged breath and let the high emotion surge through her, crest and ebb. The shocking vision of the body returned. She started to shake.

  Eddie put a glass in her hand with an inch of amber liquor—bourbon, from the sweet and smoky nose of it, the Woodford Reserve he stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk. She tossed it back in one gulp. Smoother if she sipped, but the bite and heat were what she was after. It burned all the way down. She set the empty glass on the table in front of her.

  He sat beside her. “You wanna talk about it?” His voice was soft and husky, almost a whisper.

  “They shot him in the head. I …” I what? I’m sorry? I’m not sorry. I’m to blame?

  “Go on.”

  She just stared at him. “Go on? Not exactly the reaction I expected. A little clinical, don’t you think?”

  “What would you like me to be? Morose? Tearful? Joyful? Saying he deserved it might be a little strong, but not by much. Ray Tanner wasn’t a nice man.”

  “True, but you didn’t get him killed. I did. The man ended up dead after I mentioned his name to Owen Shetland.”

  “You’re having delusions of grandeur. Shetland wouldn’t off one of his guys on your say-so, not if he’s the sort I think he is.”

  Gina bustled in with a glass of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen. “I thought you could use these.” She set the glass on the table and shook two tablets into Jordan’s hand.

  Jordan washed them down with the water. “Thanks. It probably will help.” What she really needed were magic pills to erase the bloody image of Ray Tanner’s dead body, or maybe a pint or two more of Eddie’s lush bourbon.

  The phone in the front office rang. Gina went to answer it.

  Jordan massaged her throbbing temples. Choking emotion rose up in her chest.

  Eddie reached around her and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll take you home.” He stroked her hair.

  After a moment in his embrace, calm overtook her. She was still sad and sickened, but those feelings no longer threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.” Let me just stay here in your arms where it feel so much like home. She looked at him. “What did I get us into?”

  A little later, Eddie left with Tank to pick up her car down at the Cloverton offices. Afterward, he wanted to check in with Diego, who covered Milo Wachowski. “You feel like coming with me?”

  “No thanks. I think I’ll stick around here and take care of some backlogged paperwork.”

  Time dragged on. She finished logging her time sheet for Gina to input for billing and tied up a few loose ends on an employee background check Muggs had run for her.

  She was just thinking about packing it in for the day, going home early to tie one on with a nice cabernet from the wine fridge and a session with her favorite therapist, Etta James, when she received a surprise phone call from Emmett Sullivan.

  “I have to, um, see you. Right. Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Can’t say on the phone. Um, no. Can’t say.”

  “Come on, Emmett. I’ve had a bad day. You’re gonna have to at least give me a clue.”

  “I know things. Lots of things. Right. Like who Milo called after he saw you stealing his computer from the office last week.”

  She caught her breath. Milo saw her take the laptop after all, which was how they knew to burglarize Shea’s offices to get it back.

  Emmett went on. “Those kind of things. There’s more. Yes, more, uh, lots more.”

  This could be the break. Lord, I don’t think I’m up to this. Not today. “I can be there in twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

  “No. No. Not around here.” He named a little wine bar downtown. They set the time
for seven-thirty. When she asked him again what it was about, he refused to say more. “Don’t tell anyone, Miss Welsh. Right. Not anyone. Please. I’m begging you. Begging.” He did sound desperate.

  Gina left, and to put the morning ugliness out of her mind, Jordan killed time with mundane office chores. At six forty-five she pointed the Cherokee south toward old town, grateful for something productive to do and dying to know what Emmett Sullivan wanted.

  CHAPTER 30

  Emmett paced the sidewalk in front of the wine bar. Jordan parked just across the way.

  He looked up, waved, and crossed the street. She was barely out of the car when he reached her.

  “Hello, Emmett.”

  “Uh, Miss Welsh, you didn’t tell anyone, did you? I mean, about meeting. Really. Not anyone. Right?”

  “No. I didn’t tell anyone. What can I do for you?” She hoped this would be worthwhile. She just wanted to go home.

  “For sure? You’re positive. Right? No one.” His jaw clenched.

  “Paranoid, much, Emmett?”

  “You don’t know. I have good reason to worry. Um. Good.” His eyes darted. Even in the cool evening breeze, he was sweating profusely.

  Jordan caught hold of his sleeve and forced him to look at her. “Emmett. What is it?”

  “I’m going to tell you. Want to. Need to tell you, um, everything. But you have to … There’s something you have to do for me. I need money. Right. Have to leave. Not safe at all here.”

  Okay. A new twist. “Money. Seriously? You’re holding the foundation hostage for information? Come on, Emmett, that’s pretty low.”

  “I don’t know what else to do.” He looked at his feet. “Are you involved in the embezzlement?”

  He looked up, miserable. “Yes.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Coming forward can only help in the end. I’ll do what I can for you.”

  He turned away and paced again, fists balled, concern etched on his face.

  She waited for him to come to a decision.

  He turned back to her. “Okay. It’s Milo. Milo and I work the inside. That’s how I know about the big hit. Coming. Um, yeah, soon. Big, big hit. You need to, um, move, move really fast and stop it.”