Marked Masters (11 page)

"But you'll wait for me, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," he growled, then pulled on the
brim of the cap.

The ambulance pulled away at that moment,
but the lights and siren remained off. Several officers were
watching as I exited the cab, and I wished I hadn't worn slacks so
I could flash a little leg and distract them. Instead, the Fendi
and I put on our most confident attitudes and headed for the
elegant glass and brass-plated entrance to Tina's condo building.
Grandfather always said people perceived whatever one projected,
and right now I wanted to project the mien of someone who wasn't
expecting the worst. Getting into the lobby was easy, but all
further progress stopped at the elevators.

"Ma'am, do you live here?" asked a man in a
dark suit, his badge clipped to his belt and peeking out behind the
right flap of his suit jacket. Detectives onsite already. This
didn't look good.

"No, Detective, I'm here to see a friend. We
made plans yesterday to meet this morning."
Oop! Too much info.
Slow down, Laurel, and keep with one sentence answers.

"And your friend's name?" He poised a pen
over his notepad.

I reminded myself about perception, and
flashed my best
I'd love to talk, but I'm really in a hurry
smile, and said, "Tina, Tina Schroeder."

His dark gaze hit me like a sudden laser.
"Please step over here for a moment." He introduced himself as
Detective Roblo and led me to the corner farthest away from the
doors and elevators.

Yep, the worst. Just as I'd feared.

All the gory details aside, Tina was found
about thirty minutes before in the alley behind the building. A
probable victim of robbery, according to the detective, but I felt
a shiver when he said her throat was cut. Okay, so that was one
gory detail. I bit my lip to keep from blurting out how her death
was just like the fat man in Italy. I did not want to get into that
with Miami law enforcement.

"Was anything of value taken, Detective?" I
had to know.

"Yeah, the thief grabbed her purse and
ran."

And I was pretty certain the snuffbox was
part of this supposed thief's loot.

"But why kill her? Was she…violated?" I knew
my questions were natural, and I wanted to appear absolutely
genuine. Well, my grief was, after all. I really had liked
Tina.

The detective put a comforting hand on my
shoulder. "No, there was no evidence of anything sexual."

Which would have been a relief if it didn't
make her subsequent murder just so much more unnecessary in a
simple snatch-and-run robbery. Still, I was grateful for the
information. "Thank you." Tears stung my eyes.

He took my contact details. Of course, at
this point I wasn't sure how long Jack and I would be in Miami, but
I told the detective I was leaving after the day's art event and I
was in Miami to attend as a representative of the Beacham
Foundation. Apparently my grandfather's name still carried enough
cachet to offset the mess my father did to it in the greater
Miami/Dade area, because the detective raised his eyebrows when I
showed my ID, and he quickly waved me on.

My cabbie, on the other hand, chose the
opportunity to move on to greener pastures, since he'd required my
green before I'd left the vehicle. One of the uniformed cops called
for another cab, and I waited at the curb debating my options. I
wasn't sure if I should go on to the event and get in during the
confusing early setup or do some nosing around here first.

A black Lincoln Town Car slid noiselessly to
the curb in front of me, and the back door opened. Yes, Jack
stepped out. I didn't know whether to let my anger speak over being
left earlier, express my gratitude he'd shown up when I was still a
little shaken by the news of Tina, or walk quickly away because I
was more than a little apprehensive about where he'd been during
the time frame of the murder. Not to mention the serendipitous way
he showed up so soon afterward.

Irritation and apprehension moved to make my
decision. "No, thank you. I have a cab coming." Still, this was
Jack. He'd had ample opportunities to kill me and leave my body
hidden in places it would have never been found. Of course, he
wasn't a murderer. However, there were things I needed to say to
him, but this was not the time, and a closed car was not the place.
At least, not until I had ample opportunity to mull things over.
Things like, why did Jack happen by this place right now, and where
had he been previously?

"Laurel, don't be obstinate. Get in."

"The cab is already on its way. I don't want
him to drive all the way down here and have no fare. Cabbies need
respect too."

"In this neighborhood, he'll be quickly
dispatched to another fare. Never fear. We have just enough time to
get to the Browning event, and I must still charm Melanie into
giving you a pass."

"I'm not—"

One of the uniformed officers took note of
the idling Town Car and interrupted with, "Sir, you're going to
have to move along."

Jack shot me a warning look. "Laurel, we'll
discuss this en route."

I complied. A Beacham was taught never to
create a scene unless it was completely necessary. And despite my
doubts about Jack's honesty, I couldn't force myself to go against
my social training in this instance.

The buttery soft leather was just as
inviting as ever, and Jack offered a cup of coffee from the
carafe.

"Thank you." I'm always amazed when served
with a china cup and saucer in any kind of limo. We've become a
society of to-go cups and disposable everything.

"So, why are you here?" Jack asked. "Didn't
have your fill of coppers yesterday when the Mercedes was
stolen?"

"Could ask you the same question." I
purposely kept my eyes on my coffee as I spoke and only looked up
after taking a sip. "Why are you in this neighborhood?"

"I had a meeting," he said. "You didn't
mention anything last evening about taking a jaunt to Bricknell
before the art festival."

"I assumed I would have an opportunity to do
so when we met for breakfast, but you apparently had other plans."
His face colored when I said that. Interesting. "Didn't think I
needed to be informed about your plans, either, Jack? Who did you
meet, and did you learn anything new?"

He muttered something I didn't catch.

"What was that?"

"Never mind." He crossed his arms over his
lovely Tom Ford jacket. It was new, and Margarite obviously knew
his size as well. I could have left it at that…except I couldn't. I
was about to add another of my two cents to the situation when
Volcano Hawkes sputtered and blew.

"You simply cannot use any reason, can you,
Laurel? We're trying to keep our investigation quiet, then you find
whatever state of affairs is the most dangerous to you personally,
and that's precisely where you hare off to. Someday, someone isn't
going to be there to grab you before it's too late. Someday—"

"Now, just a minute, bucko!" Where did he
get off? "I don't know what you think you know, and maybe you
already know everything, but when you picked me up, I was going to
meet Tina. You know, Tina, the girl I talked to yesterday. I was
trying to meet with her for coffee ahead of heading to the fair.
And if you hadn't slipped away at dawn and left me on the boat, you
might have been invited too."

Okay, none of that last bit would have
happened, but I had a head of steam and needed enough words to vent
it.

Jack was undaunted. "All the police at the
building didn't tip you off that your idea wasn't the safest one
you'd ever devised?"

"There was an ambulance. Someone could have
had a heart attack or fallen down the stairs."

"Police aren't normally called for either of
those types of occurrences."

"My God, you sound like Max." My boss could
be insufferable at most times, but his leaps of logic could reach
Olympian lengths. No way I could tell Jack about the snuffbox and
Tina's connections to it and give him more ammunition to hurl my
way. I should have just come clean in the beginning when he could
jettison his anger on the fact the snuffbox had once more likely
disappeared. As it was, I could only play this out to its logical
conclusion.

"I had no reason to think the activity at
the building entrance impacted my seeing Tina in any way. She was
the picture of health yesterday, so the ambulance didn't even play
into my thoughts." Then the walls of the car started moving in on
me, and the gravity of what had happened. I heard my cup and saucer
clink onto the floorboard but hadn't realized I'd let go. Instead,
I suddenly realized I'd slid down to lie on the leather seat. "If I
hadn't gone, I wouldn't know right now that she's dead."

A second later Jack pulled me to his chest,
and all the tears I'd trapped inside my heart broke for freedom. He
handed me a handkerchief. Yes, an actual monogrammed hanky, and for
a brief instant I lost myself in the incongruous thought of how few
I saw anymore with men under sixty.

Then I bawled. He stroked my hair, moving
his hand slowly to my back and soothingly down an arm, a leg, just
about any place he could reach. What made me finally stop sobbing
was the fear my makeup was likely ruined, and we were mere blocks
from the Browning. A mirror confirmed the worst. I'm not shallow.
I'm practical.

Worse, as I panicked and made a quick fix,
Jack turned from Mr. Sympathy to a warped version of Henry Higgins.
But instead of chastising me on diction, he tried to keep my
attention by lecturing in the "for your own safety" vein. When he
finally said, "I'm sorry about your friend, but you have to
understand you cannot simply wander into—"

"You know, Jack," I interrupted as I scooted
as far away from him as the interior allowed. "A minute ago you
were acting like a gentleman." I balled up the hanky and threw it
at him. "A real gentleman. You almost fooled me. But an actual
gentleman would never have left this morning without me. And if it
was absolutely necessary he did, said gentleman would have taken a
cab for himself and left me this Town Car."

"I don't see how that makes any
difference."

Neither did I, but no way I would admit it
to him. "That's exactly why you'll never be a gentleman, Mr.
Hawkes." I roughly tugged the Fendi near my side, turned my back to
Jack, and focused on my mirror. I did sneak a couple of looks at
him, but he just crossed his arms and stared pointedly out his side
window.

I salvaged enough of my face until I could
get into a bathroom. At the moment, I needed to set my own agenda.
A plan guaranteed not to include Mr. Jack "Panties in a Twist"
Hawkes. I may not have known who killed Tina, but the art fête
would be a good place to ask questions. I owed it to my friend, and
equally I owed it to myself to try to find the next link in the
quest of the snuffbox. It had been my responsibility to retrieve it
in Italy, after all. The entrance of Jack and his major art heist
conundrum had no bearing on my original mission.

Regardless, someone was playing dirty, and
if I'd been with Tina this morning, I might have shared her fate.
Okay, yes, that thought made me kind of feel like shivering
again.

"Laurel, you're going to have to trust me."
Mr. Silence broke his self-imposed détente. Boy, did he pick the
wrong time to talk again.

"Trust you? Trust you? When you take over
and decide where I'm going to stay, when I'm going to eat, and when
I'm allowed—or not allowed—to leave? Put yourself in my place,
Jack. Would you trust me if the roles were reversed? Or would you
be just a little concerned that a whole multitude of nefarious
people have control-issue tendencies, and I might need to be
careful around
everyone,
including you?"

"Nefarious."

"I didn't want to pigeonhole you, so I threw
your evil tendencies in with the multitudes."

He grinned, and I had to slide my hands
under my thighs to keep from slapping him. The man kept pushing me.
Soon. Soon, when I didn't have a driver as a witness.

Regardless, I think Jack knew what I was
thinking because he leaned closer and pulled at my wrists until he
could take both my hands in one of his. I looked away, and he used
his free hand to twist my chin back around to look at him. "I have
few nefarious tendencies, but none that need concern you. I simply
want to keep you safe, and you tend to do everything in your power
to keep me on the verge of a heart attack."

Whew! I opened my mouth to speak but found a
huge lump in my throat instead. I thanked my lucky stars when the
Browning filled the view through the windshield. As the car pulled
to the curb, I had an out, and my voice returned.

"I talked earlier to Nico. He has a pass for
me. So see what you can find out from Melanie and company, and I'll
work any sources I have who show up today."

"I don't know—"

"Don't be silly, Jack." I stretched out a
foot to the sidewalk as the driver opened my door. "I'll be in
public view all day with Nico to watch my back. You'll be in more
danger associating with Preying Mantis Melanie."

"Remain in public view at all times."

"This is my element, sir." I anchored a hand
on one hip and waited for him to join me on the pavement, while
hoping he hadn't realized my words were not really an assurance.
Couldn't help it. I had to give myself some wiggle room, and lucky
for me Jack didn't seem to recognize the evasion for what it truly
was.

"Good." Jack fastened a button on his jacket
as he resumed full height. There were going to be a lot more women
noticing Mr. Hawkes than the art at the festival. Thank goodness I
was immune to his charms.

The driver closed the door and returned to
the front seat. The car glided silently away, making me remember
another question I'd forgotten to ask. "Why did you rent the
Mercedes anyway? Why didn't Margarite or the captain just send the
Town Car for us? Then we would still have our luggage because the
driver would have stayed behind when we entered the gallery."