Death of a Bankster (8 page)

He had used this information twice to get in the garage and from there into their home through the door from the garage into the house. While inside he had attached a surveillance recorder to the home phone, one that allowed him to retrieve recorded calls from a remote location.

One of the limiting criteria on an assignment like this was to not be noticed by anyone other than the target, and the target only when desired. Taking control of a target in their home, a place where people felt safe had great emotional impact. Ryan planned to do just that, surprise Maxwell Norbert in his own home. This would take away Norbert’s sense of safety and create emotional damage. He wanted to do it on a night when Mrs. Norbert would not be home. To date, her phone calls had not identified a night when she would be out, leaving Norbert home alone.

Ryan was not sure how much longer he would wait. He would not, under any circumstances, carry through on his plan while Mrs. Norbert was at home. He had no cause to bring her the level of angst he planned to visit upon her husband. If the opportunity to do it the way he preferred did not appear soon, he would find a more complex plan to take control of Norbert in his bank, after hours. Or, alternatively, he would take him off the street and use a sanitized location. But for the desired psychology, the Norbert home was ideal.

He would wait a while longer.

Chapter 9

Maddie had planned to spend a quiet evening at home with her son and her mother, but when she called home she learned the two of them had made other plans. Brad had been asked to go out for pizza with the family of a friend, since he had already finished his homework. As her son had just brought home his first straight-A report card, she wasn’t about to doubt him. She also learned that her mother’s monthly book club meeting had been changed to tonight due to a scheduling conflict at the home of Annie Smiddle, the host of this month’s meeting. Brad had come back on the phone to say he would be home in time for the two of them to read a bit more of the next Hardy Boys mystery,
The Missing Chums
.

Maddie decided she would stop at her favorite, close-by Italian restaurant and treat herself before heading home. She pulled in and parked in a head-in spot on the south side of the restaurant where the thorny arms of a desert mesquite tree shaded the hood of her car from the dinner time sun. While a naturally wild tree, mesquites were very popular with landscape designers for their soft green, almost fern like leaves. Mesquites could be found all over the Valley of the Sun.

The restaurant wasn’t busy so she took a booth for four and slid into the side which allowed her to see the door and anyone approaching where she sat. She waved off the menu, ordered one of her favorites, and then shook her head when the waiter extended a wine list. After a minute or two she found herself absentmindedly sliding her shiny fork up and back on the green cloth napkin. She let her thoughts drift to Lincoln Rogers, the main man in her life, but a frustrating long-distance relationship. They were great together, but he seemed a dedicated bachelor with a career FBI position. As a couple, the two of them were going nowhere fast.

She noticed a man sitting alone three tables away, his seat facing toward her. She had watched him walk in a few minutes after she had arrived. He appeared a bit over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a full head of dark hair. Clean shaven with a look of power, physical power, he had walked confidently. Not cocky, just sure of himself. When she watched him walk, her core had vibrated. She smiled at the thoughts which accompanied the vibration, while feeling she should somehow have suppressed it.

He seemed deep in thought. Then suddenly he looked over and grinned. His grin pulled to one side, reaching up to crinkle the skin around his eye. She looked again at his thick head of hair, and found herself wondering if he had hair on his chest.
I love to twirl my fingers through the hair on a man’s chest, and, if he’s hot like this one, maybe I’d twirl his hair in more places.
She pictured him with a bed sheet pulled partway up his front, his arms behind his head. His armpits small dark pools. He then brought his arms forward, reaching out for her to join him.
Yes, I could twirl in his hair.
She felt her face flush, as if her thoughts had been overheard.

He made eye contact again, spreading his grin into a full smile. He stood and walked straight to her. No subterfuge, straight at her. His eyes held on hers.

“Hello,” he said, in an easy voice, warn and casual. “I see you’re dining alone and, well, I need a woman’s opinion on something. It’s important. Frankly, it would best come from a stranger, a woman who would have no reason to give anything but her honest opinion. Would you?” He swept his hand toward the chair across from her. “May I join you?”

Maddie looked into his dark eyes, but said nothing beyond what her smile said, and he heard that clearly as he pulled out the seat. He was an attractive man, apparently confident and about the right age. “Please do,” she said after he had pulled out the chair. “I’d enjoy the company. My name is Maddie Richards.”

“Thank you.” He motioned to his waiter. “I’ll be sitting with this lady. When my order comes, please bring it to this table.” Turning back to Maddie, he extended his hand. “Ryan Testler, Maddie. It’s nice to know you.” He sat down. “I ordered a bottle of Chianti, please share it with me.”

“A little, yes. Do you live here in the Phoenix area?”

“No,” he said. “I came here to see a friend.”

Oh great, just what I need, another long-distance man in my life.

“I take it you’re a local?”

“Yes. I’ve lived here a good while. To cover more of the bases, I’m divorced with an eleven-year-old son. You?”

“I work for the government and travel a great deal. Never married and no children. I envy you having a son. Someday I hope to have a family.”

Their meals came. Maddie had ordered chicken ravioli, Ryan, sirloin marsala. The waiter brought over the Chianti and a second glass for Maddie. After Ryan tasted the wine, the waiter poured a portion into each of their glasses with Maddie putting up her hand to signal not too much.

“What do you do for the government? I assume you meant the federal government, given your comment about a lot of travel.”

“Yes, federal. I’m sort of a trouble shooter. I move around a bit among certain agencies depending on need and issues that require my skills.”

“Sounds a bit mysterious.”

“Said like that, I guess it did.” He smiled again. He had a small cleft in his chin, much like Kirk Douglas, her mother’s favorite actor. “But no, not all that exciting, at least not most of the time.”

Maddie paused to take a few bites, watching Ryan without trying to look obvious doing so. “The advice?” When Ryan looked unsure, she added, “You asked to join me because you needed a woman’s advice on something.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you. I do. And, yes, it does involve a woman so a woman’s advice would be better than a man’s.”

“That would likely be true on most matters.” Maddie bobbed her hand to lessen the impact of her words which might have seemed harsh. He smiled. They laughed. He took a bite. So did Maddie. They touched Chianti glasses and looked into each other’s eyes as they each took a drink.

“I’ve recently met a woman. She has a wonderful smile and good eyes, a nice laugh. I mean that’s certainly not all. She is a lovely woman and, plainly said, her body is very, well, stimulating.”

“I fail to see the problem. You need advice because—?” Maddie left it unfinished.

“I would like to see more of her, in both meanings of that statement.” Ryan paused to look at Maddie and smile. She sent back an understanding smile. The lady and I have recently met and I’m concerned if I don’t make a move right away, I might not have another opportunity. Still, I don’t want her to think I’m coming on too fast. I can’t as yet determine where it might go, but it could be much more than just a seduction. I’m looking for advice on how I should proceed.”

“Well, first you must understand that women are as different, one to the next, as are men. There are some women who are ready and willing to crawl into bed as soon as their bodies confirm the attraction. For those women, lust is sufficient in its own right. Admittedly, there appear to be more men with that view than women, but many women feel the same. Those women are often more restrained by shyness than traditional morality. So, if your only goal is lust, move fast and find out. Getting lucky, in this instance would be finding she is a woman who also feels a physical attraction alone is sufficient.”

“What if I feel I’d like to know her better? Somewhat better anyway before we measure our sexual compatibility.”

“Ah. Then I suggest you tell her of your attraction. Women spend considerable amounts of time, not to mention money, choosing clothes, undergarments, and makeup to hopefully look attractive. We enjoy knowing we have done so with some success. This can be done without being crude. Then ask to see her again.”

Ryan paused to take a bite, chew it well, and swallow. Maddie did the same, noticing their chews had become synchronized. They continued that way until they had each finished as much as they were going to eat, and had placed their knife and fork together to signal the waiter that they were finished eating.

“I appreciate your candor and the straightforwardness of your advice.”

“Have you decided how you’ll proceed?”

He refilled their wine glasses, before saying, “Maddie, physically, I find you very stimulating. I like your personality and I love your smile. May I see you again? Soon?”

She looked down to recover from her surprise. “I would like that. Here’s my card. I look forward to hearing from you.”

He looked at the card. Then at her, then back at the card. “Police Sergeant. Are you here working a case, undercover maybe?”

“How’d you know? Yes. I’m working a counterfeit produce case. Someone is passing fake lettuce around town.”

“I thought the U.S. Secret Service handled counterfeit cases.”

“They do. I meant it literally. Someone is passing fake lettuce, selling it to Italian restaurants. I’m here to keep an eye on the place.”

“Your card says ‘homicide.’ Is someone shooting the lettuce in the head?”

“I hope no one’s listening to this conversation or we both might find ourselves in lockup at the psych ward.” Maddie watched Ryan’s cleft spread slightly when he grinned. It felt good to be silly with a man, laugh with him. “Seriously, I do work homicides. Does that put you off?”

“Well, no. Not unless you plan to arrest me.”

“That’s not likely. Depends on what you do. But look on the bright side, how many of your lady friends come on a date with handcuffs?”

* * *

By ten Maddie’s son was in bed with Maddie sitting in a side chair. Due to the hour, they agreed to read only three pages each instead of their usual ten.

“You seem happy tonight, mom. What did you do?”

“Just had a nice dinner, chatted with another person in the restaurant. Did you enjoy your pizza?”

“It was great. I like Tony’s family. He’s got a mom and a dad.”

Maddie smiled at Brad’s comment, still it touched a nerve. “Do most of your friends live with both their parents?”

“About half I’d say. I have lots of friends who live with just their mother. Like me. Only I’ve got a grandma too. So that’s cool.”

After they read their pages, they left the Hardy Boys to look for their missing chums and Maddie tucked in her son.

“Mom. Do you think we’re getting too old to be doing this? You know. Share reading.”

“Speaking for myself, I’m not too old, son. How ‘bout you, do you think we are?”

“No. I guess not. Not for now anyway.”

“Well, if you ever feel we’re getting too old for it, you let me know. Okay?”

Brad smiled and nodded. Maddie kissed her son and turned out the lamp beside his bed.

In her own room, in her own bed, Maddie again began to wonder what she often did.

Why can’t I have a normal life? More kids, a PTA membership, and all that goes with it. A husband so I can get on a first name basis with just one cock. I’d love a nine-to-five work week, some weekend gardening, supporting my man’s career, regular appointments with the hairdresser and at the nail salon. But no, not me, I have to chase weirdo murderers for a living. But maybe things are looking up. This Ryan Testler seems to be a solid man, interesting. He’s got a certain understated ruggedness about him, and he is a bit evasive.

I wonder what he’s hiding.

* * *

Maddie brought two coffees into her office, one with cream for Sue Martin, the other her way, black. She began sipping hers, holding its warmth, staring into its impenetrable darkness. She had liked coffee since she was a little girl drinking it with her father before he left to go on patrol. As a teenager, her father made her dandelion coffee more than once from the roasted roots of the dandelion weed. Years later, an elderly rancher up north near Montezuma’s Revenge served her coffee made from the beans of some cactus plant which he eased away from its natural bitterness by including the broken shell of a chicken egg. Those coffees were made without filters, the grounds just put in the bottom of the pot, the water boiled, and the coffee poured off gently to prevent the grounds from billowing up within the brew.

Maddie’s partner took her thoughts away from coffee with her father when she walked in carrying several sheets of paper. Maddie looked up. “Good morning, Sue. It’s been a week today since Sam Crawford was killed and we have yet to find his body.”

“Good morning, Maddie. I don’t have the body for you, but I do have the skinny on Paige Crawford’s parents, and a bit more on Sam Crawford.”

Maddie pointed toward the coffee with cream.

Sue picked it up, sipped, and swished it around in her mouth for a moment. “Coffee’s like magic, only its real.”

“Let’s start with Sam,” Maddie said. “Whacha got?”

Sue sat down and held her mug, its Phoenix PD logo turned to the side when she grasped the handle. “Just about what we expected, a career banker. He’s been a Senior VP at Nation’s First Bank & Trust for about five years now. He started a new department focused on bringing in deposits from foreign corporations, organizations, and individuals. I’ve got no details on just who these companies and individuals are, but that’s his department’s mission statement. On the personal side what we knew before: good credit and no arrests. He’s had a couple of low-grade moving violations, probably just enough to let his auto insurer raise his premiums, those bastards. Civic clubs. Golf membership. Yada, yada. Nothing suggesting we’d find anything turning over more rocks. He and Paige appear salt of the earth. Coffee’s good, strong. I don’t generally use cream except for the coffee here.”

Maddie raised her cup. “Thanks. I’ve spent a lot of hours studying the making of gourmet police station coffee.”

Maddie looked up as Lieutenant Adam Harrison leaned into her doorway.

“What’s happening on your maybe murder?”

“That’s enough of that, Lieutenant, sir; one Doyle Brackett is more than enough.” The lieutenant waggled his hand. Maddie continued. “We’re pretty much where I reported we were during the last meeting. Bill Molitor’s people found proof of fresh blood right where the witnesses say he fell. That’s still it.”

Then Sue spoke up. “I’ve just received confirmation the blood is definitely from Sam Crawford.”

“That doesn’t prove he’s dead,” the lieutenant said, “right?”