Cold As Ice: Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 3) (30 page)

62

THE WINTER GETAWAY was all that Heinrich Hiller had hoped for and more. He had gone on the Internet and picked the Seychelles Islands. He called his wife and told her to pack. He gave his secretary instructions on what to say if anyone called needing his services. It was simple. Herr Hiller will be out of the country for the next month and will not be able to get back to you until then. She asked where she could reach him if an emergency came up.

“You can’t,” he said.

The Russians knew the rules when they hired him. He held nothing back. No sugar coating anything. It wasn’t a matter of him not being willing to undo the transfer protocol, including the immediate recovery of funds or files. Eventually the initial sum would be returned to the sending account—minus an additional two percent servicing fee—but he stressed it could take up to a month. It needed to pass through numerous accounts and company shells to eliminate any tax burden and connection to Herr Hiller. He couldn’t make things clearer. You don’t use my service if you think you might want to change your mind or any details. Once we push the button, don’t even ask me to do anything. I can’t. That was the beauty of what he did. Once he punched in the code all was in the hands of God. But Russians were bullies. They thought anything could be fixed with enough threats. He didn’t want to hear them.

Anse Lazio was rated as the top beach in the Seychelles and maybe the Indian Ocean and maybe the entire world. It was costly but he couldn’t imagine a more idyllic spot. Snorkeling in the morning, but not too early. Lie on the beach and read a magazine or people watch in the afternoon. Order drinks with umbrellas. Take a walk and splash in the water with his wife. A late afternoon nap, a shower, and then
out for dinner and maybe one of the clubs if they weren’t too tired. He didn’t dance, gamble, or take illegal drugs, but the sights of young people with no inhibitions was energizing.

He looked at his wife and said, “One more dip, then let’s go back to the room.”

She smiled and raced ahead of him. She looks ten years younger and we’ve only been here for four days.

When they entered their luxury suite with an ocean view, his mouth dropped open. Two men were sitting on the couch in the sitting room.

“We must talk, Herr Hiller.”

“What is this, Henry?” his wife asked him, fear in her eyes.

“Just a moment of business. Go back to the bedroom. I’ll join you soon.”

63

I WANT TO tell the doctor what he can do with his stethoscope. He was too big of a pinhead to tell me himself so he sent an intern to give me the news I had to say another night. Ugh.

They moved me out of ICU to the seventh floor. Austin was already gone almost as soon as he got here. He called to tell me he would be back after a phone conference with Willingham. “At Van Guten’s office,” he added. I guess that’s his stab at transparency. He never got a chance to finish telling me what he had to say. I still haven’t heard anything more from him. Must be one heck of a conference call.

Jimmy brought James and Kendra to see me. James’ eyes darted everywhere. I am pretty certain he wanted to tug on some tubes running from a machine to my arm or push a few buttons. I’ve heard hospitals are dangerous for your health. With James present, I agree.

Blackshear, Squires, Martinez, and Green came back by before dinner to update me on the Keltto murder.

“Jones and Mangold just arrested Levin at his house,” Blackshear said. “It was in front of his wife.”

Martinez whistled and made the sign of the cross.

“I don’t know Jones and Mangold,” I said.

“They work with me in the Fourth,” Blackshear answered. “With you in the hospital and the rest of us in meetings, no one from the Second was available. Mangold told me the arrest was quite the scene with lots of tears and screaming. And that was just Leslie.”

“The guy is a creep,” I said, “but I’m almost glad I wasn’t there.”

“You got that right,” Squires added.

“So what now?” I asked.

“We’ve hit a standstill for the moment,” Blackshear said. “Levin has lawyered up. It’ll be a while before we can talk to him on the record.
Even if Nancy Keltto is in any shape to answer questions, her lawyer says no and her doctor is in 100 percent agreement. So we hurry up and wait.”

“Between a failed suicide attempt and pain meds, I don’t think it would be good to interview her anyway,” I said. “That oxycodone will make you think and say crazy things.”

Like bears chasing you in the woods.

“You were ready to pay her a visit last night,” Squires said.

“Like I said, the pain meds will make you think crazy things.”

I think they took that as their cue to leave.

Mom said she wanted to stay and sleep in the chair that pulls out into a bed next to me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone’s back. I told her to go home. She ate hospital food with me for dinner. That’s real love.

Then Tony Scalia stopped by. He was my dad’s long-time partner. When Doyle was mayor he was CPD liaison to his office. The new mayor wanted someone else. I’m not sure what Tony does anymore. He’s a big guy with a barrel chest and a thick head of black wavy hair. He’s got to be over sixty. I’ve always wanted to ask if he uses Just for Men or if he hit the genetic jackpot on men’s hair. If he wasn’t a cop, he could have played a Mafioso in a show like
The Sopranos
. He’s never said it, but I think my dad getting shot knocked some of the fight out of him. He never went back on the streets.

My dad was a big guy too. He boxed Golden Gloves in his teens and was apparently a bad boy until he met my mom. She gave him a take-it-or-leave-it deal he couldn’t refuse. “If we get married we go to church and raise our kids Baptist.” He had his mom’s rosary in is hands when I found him dead. I think he was covering his bases. Barry Soto trained both men said the two of them were legends in and out of CPD. “You wanted them on your side in a bar brawl.”

“Okay you snot-nosed brat, what have you got yourself mixed up in this time?” Scalia asks before giving me a big hug.

Baptists don’t have godparents, but Big Tony always played the role with me.

“Must have been bad parenting . . . someone always wants to kill me.”

“Especially your parents. Your momma did her best to get you to play with dolls but they always ended up in a fight so she let you do what you liked.”

Was I James as a kid? Oh man . . . my respect for mom and dad might have just gone up a couple notches. I see James once or twice a week—they had to live with me.

“Klarissa played with Barbies enough for both of us.”

“It takes all kinds to make the world go round doesn’t it? How you feeling kiddo?”

“Way too good to be stuck in here.”

“You’d say that if you had a bullet in your head. Why don’t you just relax and let the world take care of you for a while?”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t drink the coffee here.”

He smiles, reaches into a bag he carried in and lifts out a ceramic travel mug from JavaStar.

“I got it around the corner. Might still be hot.”

“You are an angel, Big Tony.”

“I’m not so sure. I think I lost my wings. I told your pops I would keep an eye on you. I’m not doing so hot.”

“Aww, you’re doing just fine. I’m grown up. I can take care of myself.”

“And yet here you are. Again.”

“Hey, I’ve been shot. You’re supposed to be nice.”

“That reminds me, after telling me I need to lose eighty pounds, crazy Barry Soto told me to give you a message.”

“Let me guess. If I trained harder I could block bullets with my bare hands?”

“Nah. He was off his game. He said to tell you it’s not smart to bring a knife to a gun fight and you did good.”

“I did good? He said that?”

“Yeah. I didn’t tell him you fired an entire ten round clip and the guy still walked away in one piece.”

“There was a door in the way.”

“But he was a big guy.”

“I gotta get back to the range.”

“I’m just tugging your chain, Kristen. Take your time getting back to the range or anything else. You’ve had a tough year physically. You should have taken time off after the Durham case.”

“I already took time off after the Cutter Shark.”

“Probably not long enough. And you spent your time trying to prove how tough you are at Quantico with the FBI. Take it from someone who’s been at this a long time. You’se got to slow down or you’ll burn out.”

“I’ve got plenty of energy. I don’t like slowing down. I’m happy when I’m active. That’s not a sin is it?”

He shrugs his shoulders and says, “I’m just saying.”

“Not sure I know how anyway.”

“Like I said, it takes all kinds to make the world work. I get that. By the way, how’s that FBI agent of yours? Any romancing I need to know about? I can check him out you know. Heck, I can give him the talk your dad would have given.”

“While cleaning your gun?”

“Doubt that would be the right angle with him. He’s ex-Ranger or something isn’t he?”

“Reynolds is a good guy . . . I think. But he plays his cards close to his chest. He might have let it slip he was Delta Force.”

Scalia whistles. “Nah, I won’t clean the gun in front of him. I’ll just give him the score on what we think of you and that he better appreciate who you are and how many people love you.”

“Which is why people keep trying to kill me. Listen, Big Tony . . .
you can think through your speech but I’m not sure it will be needed anytime soon. Romance doesn’t come easy for me.”

“No problem with that. Time is God’s way of keeping everything from happening at once. You’ll know when you know.”

We talk another fifteen minutes. I see him steal a look at his watch.

“You got a date with that hot wife of yours, Big Tony?”

“Every night. But since I was over here I thought I’d stop by the basement of Fourth Presbyterian for a meeting.”

He’s carried his chip for fifteen, maybe twenty years. He says my dad was the one that got him in AA and saved his job—and life.

“Go give your speech. It’s a good one.”

“I usually just listen but maybe tonight I will.”

“Somebody probably needs to hear it. I know I did.”

“I might.”

I probably should have let my mom stay. I somehow keep forgetting I wasn’t the only one traumatized by what happened to dad.

You’ll know when you know.
Earlier today I knew. No question in my mind Reynolds and I were through. He had cheated with Klarissa and we were done. I screwed that up royally by not being a very good detective.

Unless they hatched a plan to cover up what was going on. See, it’s this kind of thinking that gets me in trouble. I do better when I’m active.

Three hours later Heather Torgerson checks in with me when she arrives for her shift. I’ve got two CPD officers guarding me on the floor and two more cruising the area. That should keep the wolves at bay, though I do wish I had my Sig Sauer under my pillow. I wonder when I will it get it back from the ballistics lab.

The FBI insisted they place an additional resource on the floor
because the case falls in their jurisdiction. I think Heather wants to chat but my head is buried in the casebooks for the Keltto murder. I may be stuck on the sidelines but Big Tony brought me enough caffeine to last me until midnight. I might as well put the time to good use.