In Hot Pursuit (7 page)

A voice shouted down the hall.

“Gotta go. I'll try to call you later.” She gave Quinn a quick hug, then hurried in the direction of the shouting.

What the hell did she really mean by “mole” or “targeted virus?” Since Quinn had no clue, additional internet research was in store. What a day. It was time to head home, relax with a glass of wine, and gear up for more time on the computer.

Quinn retraced her steps to the Rice Center garage and headed the Volvo toward the Southwest Freeway.

She soon arrived at her townhouse to savor that glass of wine and discovered she wouldn't be drinking alone.

Houston, Tuesday Evening

Logan Rice was a man accustomed to order and now, civilian duty — duty to his family, to his family's business, and to the business of giving away money. Many would say “what a charmed life, you're lucky, no money worries like the rest of the middle classers.”

He didn't see his life through that particular pair of glasses.

Sure he lived with the trappings of his family's wealth, but, damn it, he wanted his old job back. Gazing at the Houston skyline through the window of his office, he rubbed the day's growth of beard with the palm of a hand. No, he wouldn't go there. He firmly slashed any thoughts of his former life from his mind. Remembering only made it worse.

“Logan.”

He turned. “What's up Billy?” Logan's cousin leaned against the doorframe.

“Wanted to let you know that a woman from Houston Cullen University came by today. She had questions about the theft.” Billy moved to the small bar in the corner. “Want a bourbon?”

“Sure, why not?”

Billy poured two fingers, handed the glass to Logan, then poured a second glass.

Logan sipped the liquor, enjoying the end of the day.

“I heard she was here,” Logan said. He remembered his reaction to her the other night. Distrusting her on one hand, yet attracted on the other. Her sparkling green eyes challenged him, while her full lips and ample breasts screamed
touch me
. He shook off his reaction. “Amanda told me she made an appointment for tomorrow. What did she want?”

“Not much. Told her the idea for the grant was Gram's.” Billy shrugged. “She said she'd talk to you since you handled the details.”

“I met her at HCU last week. I've already talked to the police and Dr. Arnold and Bill Jenkins. I've said the same thing so many times, I'm a talking puppet.” Logan didn't want to rehash the theft with another HCU employee, he wanted action. “Gram is pissed as hell. She pinned my ears to the wall on Sunday, again.”

“I know,” Billy nodded. “The whole family heard.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep, the library door wasn't shut. Sorry, dude. Gram can still knock us on our ass.”

“Isn't that the truth?” Logan's mouth curled at the thought of eighty-year-old Gram raising hell with her grandchildren. She held the family together like a drill sergeant. And that was no easy task considering the continually increasing number of Rice family members. Although Logan had personally avoided that family tradition, his cousins and brothers and sisters were propagating like rabbits.

“She's taking this personally.” Billy added more bourbon to his glass. “Do you suppose the theft was meant to embarrass the foundation or the family?”

“You mean like revenge?” Logan sat on the edge of his desk.

“Possibly. What about the foundation's board? Do we really know any of the members other than what's on a resume? Maybe one of them saw an easy chance to make a killing.”

“We've worked with these people for years. I don't buy that. ” Logan shook his head. “But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do a little checking.”

“I'll call Greg in the morning,” Billy suggested. “His security firm can do some quiet inquiries for us.”

“Good idea. What about the university's staff? We should probably include them. Do you know anyone?”

“You're the one that dealt with them on the grant application. I've only met the president and a couple of people from the development office.”

Logan set the empty glass on his desk. “Same here.”

“Something will turn up.” Billy checked his watch. “Gotta go, the wife is waiting for me. It's spaghetti night.” He headed to the office door. “I'll let you know what I hear from Greg.”

Logan shoved a couple of files in his briefcase, headed for home. The Houston Astros were playing that evening and he wanted to catch the game on TV.

Tuesday, 5:19
P.M.

This week had coughed up one surprise after another.

Roddy waited in his car for Quinn as she arrived home. Wine bottle in hand, he sauntered into the garage after she parked. Thankfully, she wasn't the skittish type, so his looming shadow next to the open car door didn't set her into panic mode.

“Miss Wells, everything okay? You took that corner a little fast.”

“Well, gee, I didn't know the police would be scoping out my driving habits fifty feet from my driveway.” She leapt out of the car and planted herself in the middle of the garage. “What are you doing here? I'm off the clock.”

“Don't get your panties in a twist.”

“Detective Phillips, do not, I repeat, do not take that attitude with me.” She started for the door to the house muttering, “I hate arrogant, smart ass men.”

“I heard that.” He was right behind her. “Quinn, stop.”

She turned to face him.

“I apologize, stupid squad room comment.” He held up the bottle of wine. “Truce?”

“Aren't you on call or something?” She unlocked the door.

“Off duty.” His lips twisted.

Damn, those dimples. “Come in, I'm too tired to argue with you.” They stopped in the tastefully decorated living room. “Have a seat. I'll find a corkscrew and glasses.”

Just what she needed, making nice-nice with a cop when all she wanted to do was put her feet up and forget about him for one evening. Yet with no other choice, she threw her purse in the study and went to the kitchen. Maybe he'd get chatty after a glass of wine.

Quinn puttered for a bit, pulling together a tray of cheese and crackers, and uncorking the wine. Roddy perused her collection of DVD movies as she set the snacks and wine glasses on the coffee table. She poured two glasses and tasted the wine, a nice cabernet.

“You have a nice collection of films.” He accepted a glass of wine.

“It's a hobby of mine, cheaper than collecting cars or crystal.” She settled in her favorite chair, swung her feet on the ottoman. “What's new with the investigation?”

“I'm off duty.” He found a comfortable spot on the sofa. “This isn't an official visit.”

“Right. Every visit from a cop is official. Tell me what you've been up to. I know you've interviewed several people.”

“How do you know that?” He crossed his legs, as comfortable as a feline in a bucket of catnip.

“I have my sources.” No way would she tell him whom she'd talked with the last two days.

“I bet you do.”

“Stop being a smart ass. By the way, are you married?”

“I didn't know you cared.”

“Believe me, I don't. Lynne Jenkins at First National wants to know.” Damn. Why'd she say that?

“Really?” He tasted the wine, smiled. “You've been a busy lady. Who else have you talked with?”

“Let's cut to the chase. As HCU's representative to work with the police, I'm entitled to learn what progress you've made in solving our theft.”

“I'm not married, by the way.”

If his flippant tone was a barometer of enjoyment, he was having one hell of a good time playing with her.

“Peachy. I'll let Lynne know you're available. Talk to me.” She offered the plate of cheese and crackers to sweeten her request for adult conversation.

“Yes, ma'am.” He popped a cheese cube in his mouth, then pulled out his notebook, flipping through the pages. “We've talked with several employees at the university, the foundation, the brokerage firm, and the bank.” He paused, drank more wine. “So far, no one has popped out as the primo-thief candidate. Usually, my detective skills work much faster. Guess I'm in a rut.”

She couldn't help herself and laughed. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. He had a great sense of humor. “I'll put my money on you being in a rut. Surely you have a hunch or two. Even I have a theory.”

“A theory? I love it when civilians think they're smarter than the police. What's your theory?”

Quinn forced herself to hold back. She always did talk too much. What was it about this guy that made her blurt out silly questions and reveal her activities? Why not rent a billboard next to the police station?

“You go first,” she said. “Tell me why you think the theft was committed in the first place, plain old greed or an easy way out of a nasty problem?”

“You do know how to crash right into the heart of an issue.” Roddy's face transformed to unemotional cop. “We've concluded the motivation was intentional. We believe the theft wasn't a chance occurrence committed by some computer hacker.”

Quinn nodded at that conclusion, way to go Houston police.

“This crime was well planned with advance knowledge of the wire transfer. We checked a national database for similar crimes within the past five years and came up with zilch. This wasn't a random theft. The reason could be — ”

“Settling a grudge,” she said.

He frowned. “That's one theory. Or, someone at either the university or the foundation saw an opportunity to make easy money and took advantage of the situation. That would explain the familiarity with the details of the gift. We're concentrating on employees as well as anyone else who knew about the transfer.” He closed the notebook. “That's it so far.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

She licked her lips, took a deep breath. “Who's on your radar at HCU?” She hoped he wouldn't point to her.

“No names right now. I'll let you know once we have something concrete.” He topped off his wine glass, spread out on the couch. “Now, enlighten Uncle Roddy with what you've been up to since I dropped you off yesterday.”

“What have I been doing the last twenty-four hours? Not much, but I did talk to one of our donors. A $20,000 gift from earlier this year is still outstanding on the cash analysis. I met with the donor and the check has been cashed.”

“What's the donor's name?” He pulled out his cell phone. “I'll have the cancelled check picked up.”

Geez, her big mouth again. She couldn't refuse to give him the name of Jack Franks. If she didn't tell him she had a copy of the check he'd get it anyway and then she'd look like a fool or a crook.

“I have a copy of the cancelled check. Let me get it for you.”

Roddy's mouth went weird, not a smirk, not a smile.

She went to the study. While retrieving the copy from her purse, she concluded Roddy having the check could work to her benefit. The police would be able to locate the bank and account number where it had been deposited. If she sweet-talked him, hopefully he'd share the details. Sure he'd share. She grabbed the check copy and returned to the living room.

“This is the cancelled check, front and back.”

Roddy peered at one copy then the other then back to the first one.

He gaze traveled to Quinn. “How does this check relate to the theft?”

Good, they were getting somewhere. “Did I say they were related?”

“No, but you wouldn't have gone to the trouble of tracking it down if you didn't think there might be a connection.” He picked up the wine bottle. “More wine?”

“Just a bit. I'm not one-hundred percent convinced this check relates to the theft. Maybe it's a coincidence the cash is missing.” She sipped the wine. “It's not normal for cash deposits to be MIA. Guess I need to re-think our gift-cash procedures. There's obviously a breakdown somewhere.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Don't beat yourself up just yet.” He stowed his notebook and the check copy in his jacket pocket. “I'll get working on this first thing in the morning.”

“You'll let me know as soon as you hear anything?”

“Of course.”

She figured Roddy's good mood was due to an excellent California cabernet and decided to test the waters.

“I want to switch gears for minute.” She pushed her hair back and dove into the deep end. “What progress have you made looking into the personal finances of HCU employees?”

“Like who?”

“Like the people who had access to the wire instructions, Scooter, Rebecca, Bill, and Bill's assistant, Sarah Evans.”

“I don't have anything. We're still working on access to their bank accounts,” Roddy said. “There are privacy laws so we can't barge in like a rogue cowboy.”

“The police could rummage around my garbage disposal if it suited them. What about a search warrant?”

“As I said, there are laws and we don't break them. Probable cause is necessary for a search warrant, not there yet.” He drained his wine glass. “Anything else?”

“There is one small thing, a favor actually.” A bead of sweat rolled down Quinn's back. Simply mentioning this to Roddy made her feel like a gossipy teenager. She wanted to know the truth. “This isn't a big deal. It's probably inconsequential. Could you look into the relationship between Rebecca and Bill?”

“That's easy, they're co-workers.”

“Don't be a simpleton.” Just when she thought he was being open with her. “You should check them out.”

“Why?”

“I saw them together at a mall in Sugar Land last Saturday. It was strange. Number one, both of them live inside the six-ten loop, Sugar Land is out of the way for shopping. Number two, I swear they were holding hands. And, number three, Rebecca threw me this out-of-the-blue smile as they left. It was totally out of character for her.”