Complicity in Heels (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

J
ust as Nikki and Tony ducked back into the hallway, two uniformed patrol officers approached from the far side. “Freeze,” the lead one yelled. “Don’t move an inch.”

The pair stopped immediately.

“You two again,” Officer Hardy said, surprised.

Tony grimaced and shook his head.

Sergeant Twine walked over toward him. “Hope you didn’t tamper with any evidence—”

“Not at all,” Nikki said, cutting in before Tony could answer.

A cynical smirk flashed across Twine’s face. “You know that’s a felony,” he continued, directing his attention over toward Nikki. “Don’t you, little lady?”

The sergeant’s demeaning remark riled her. “I’m not your little lady,” she replied. “Are we clear?”

He ignored her question and asked his own. “Listen, dear, what were you two characters doing near that crime scene?”

“We heard the commotion and decided to check it out.”

“Did you know any of the victims?”

Nikki looked over at Tony. The two locked eyes.

“Well?” the sergeant pressed.

“Well, what?” Nikki asked.

“Do you recognize any of the victims?”

“No,” she lied.

Sergeant Twine shook his head, clearly not believing her. “Mm-hmm.”

Nikki sneered. “Not a soul, honest.”

“I find that hard to believe, little lady.”

“Look, all I know is you’ve got one helluva mess on your hands in there.”

Sergeant Twine shot her a stern look. “You two stay here in the hallway until we hear from the lead investigator. I’m sure he’s gonna have some questions for both of you.”

A grim look crossed Tony’s face. He cursed under his breath.

“Officer Hardy,” Twine called out.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Keep an eye on them while I check out the room.”

“Aye, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Twine disappeared into the room. Everyone stared at one another once he left. “You’d better hope the tampering in that suite is minimal,” Officer Hardy warned. “Or I’ll run both of you in on a litany of—” The crackle of his handheld radio cut him off. Hardy tugged the radio free from his utility belt. “Hardy. Go ahead. Over.”

“Detective Mallorca here. Escort those persons of interests down to the front desk.”

“Roger, Detective. En route now.”

Nikki and Tony exchanged alarmed looks.

“All right, you two, let’s step it out,” Hardy ordered.

The pair moved down the hallway toward the elevators. Officer Hardy followed.

“This could get nasty,” Tony whispered.

“Then keep quiet,” Nikki suggested, “and let me do all the talking.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll keep it civil and straight to the point, Chen.”

Officer Hardy leaned forward and pressed the elevator call button. “You know, with a seasoned detective, all that preplanning alibis and strategizing bullshit rarely works.”

The elevator chime sounded, and the door slid open. Nikki and Tony stepped inside; Officer Hardy followed. The ride down was silent and uncomfortable. When the elevator doors slid back open, Hardy herded them toward the front desk. A tall black man with Flex Wheeler–size shoulders bursting through his gray tweed jacket stood waiting for them.

Detective Mallorca stared at the couple without moving; then he nodded toward Hardy before focusing back on the pair. “Look,” he began, “I don’t know who you two are—don’t really care—but Lieutenant Bosky insisted that I be more than forthcoming with you both about my findings here.”

Tony let out a loud sigh of relief.

The detective raised an eyebrow and paused for a second. “With that said—”

“Thank you,” Nikki said. “We appreciate your help, Detective.”

Mallorca accessed his digital tablet. “Room was originally registered to an Armando Viera for about a month. Most recently it’s been registered to a Victor Patrone.” He looked back up at Nikki then over to the front-desk clerk. “Julian here says they’re one and the same person.” He added, “No credit card on file, cash payments only. In addition, a silver Mercedes Roadster, license plate HS6146, was listed as the occupant’s primary vehicle.”

Tony gave Nikki a nod, confirming that the information about Victor’s car was accurate.

“We’re running the plates now.” Mallorca made several swipes across the face of his tablet. “Security-cam footage of the lobby and the tenth floor show a frequent female guest, about five eight or five nine, bleached-blond hair, and stacked. My guess, local prostitute. She’s consistently been in the company of a man I assume to be Mr. Patrone. The footage is a bit grainy. We’ll work on having the images cleaned up so they can be disseminated to the press. We need to find whoever did this as soon as possible.”

“Can we take a look at the surveillance video?” Tony asked.

Mallorca looked straight at the front-desk clerk. “Roll the footage for ’em, Julian.”

“All of it, Detective?”

“Every last frame.”

Nikki and Tony joined Julian behind the counter.

“Officer Hardy,” Mallorca called out.

The patrolman perked up. “Yes, Detective?”

“I’m headed upstairs to join Sergeant Twine and take a look around the suite before forensics arrives.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those security tapes remain here. Understand?”

Hardy nodded. “Aye, sir.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A
fter twenty-minutes of reviewing surveillance footage, Nikki and Tony made an abrupt exit from the lobby. They said nothing until they reached the parking garage.

“Did you see what I saw?” Tony asked.

Nikki hit the flip-key remote and unlocked the Buick. “Yeah, Lacey clocking more time at the Regency than an employee working double shifts.”

Tony chuckled. “I wonder what the connection between those two is? On the surface, it seems to be just sexual.”

Nikki’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her back pocket and glanced down at the screen. It was the beauty salon again. “I need to take this call,” she told Tony. He nodded and got inside the car. Nikki backed away from the parking space for some privacy. “Frank here,” she answered.

“Touch of Style Salon,” Janice rattled off without preamble. “Please stand by for an account representative.”

Nikki waited for Harlan to be patched through. It felt like forever.

“Nicole,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

“You missed your report-in window.”

Nikki gritted her teeth. “I know, but things have been a little—”

Harlan cut her off. “Sitrep?”

“Cordoza and Quinn are now working together,” she began, switching to a professional tone. “There’s a dirty cop on Quinn’s payroll, a Lieutenant Bosky. Quinn’s ordered him to help Chen and me find Patrone and the money. We followed up leads to the Chateau Regency, where we ran across a suite full of dead bodies. The room was registered to Patrone. The lieutenant pulled some strings and was able to help Chen and me gain access to hotel surveillance footage, which we just reviewed.”

“And?”

“Patrone was definitely there, but so was Lacey, Cordoza’s girlfriend.”

The line went silent for a moment. Nikki heard Harlan breathing. Finally, he spoke. “So Lacey and Patrone are working together?”

“It sure looks that way,” Nikki replied. “And my brother is missing.”

“I know.”

Although Nikki wasn’t surprised, she was comforted by the revelation. It was Harlan’s job to “know.” He was the field supervisor; his primary duty was to anticipate and meet the needs of his agents in the trenches.

“Any word on him?”

“Ever since you expressed concern over the DEA raid,” Harlan said, “we’ve been tapped into the local PD, but no…no leads on your brother yet.”

Nikki’s heart crumbled at the news.

“I’m sending a rescue coordinator to the precinct,” Harlan said. “She specializes in searching for the mentally disabled.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And a K-9 team is inbound from upstate to help with the effort.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him. Keep your head in the game, kid.”

“Will do,” Nikki replied. “Keep me posted.”

She hung up and returned to the car. Tony was seated on the passenger side, toying with Patrone’s phone. “Finished?” he asked, looking up at her.

Nikki plunked down in the driver’s seat. “Yeah, what’s going on with you?”

“Not much. Just messing with Patrone’s phone,” Tony said, continuing to press buttons on the device. “Hoping to gather new intel.”

“Find anything?”

Tony shook his head. “Nothing yet.” A few moments later, he shouted, “Yes!”

Nikki whirled her head in his direction. “What?”

“I just opened the lock screen.”

“Not bad.”

“How ’bout ‘outstanding’?” Tony corrected. “That was a four-digit pin, with ten thousand possible combinations.”

Nikki grinned. “And just how did you pull that off?”

“Started with the most common pins like 1234, 4321, 0007, 0000, 1111, 2222—you get the idea—and then I progressed to more difficult sequences. Guess what Patrone’s pin was?

“What?”

Tony smiled wide. “2580.”

Nikki’s face went blank.
And?

“Get it?”

She shook her head.

Tony handed her the phone. “Look at the dial pad and locate the four numbers.”

Nikki did as was instructed. A moment later a sparkle came over her eyes, and she broke into a partial grin. “The sequence of numbers forms a line straight down the center of the phone.”

“Bingo!”

Nikki handed the phone back to Tony then started up the car. “Where to, Chen?”

“Let’s find Lacey.”

Nikki backed out of the parking space and drove out of the garage. After turning left on Fox Canyon Road, past the Chateau Regency sign, she came to a complete stop at the intersection of Penrose and Fletcher. A text-message chime went off. It was the Samsung. Tony glanced down at the phone in his hand: incoming text, unidentified number. The message read: “You’re late! Rivercrest Square, Promenade.”

Tony turned to Nikki. “Change of plans. Rivercrest Square.”

“I’m on it,” she replied, changing directions.

Traffic heading toward the outdoor mall was busy. Cars and trucks jockeyed for position between lanes. Soon they were locked into an endless stream of red lights traveling at a lumbering pace. Once they passed the two-car accident up ahead, traffic began to thin out.

The entrance to the Rivercrest Square Shopping Center was bustling with activity. Patrons were dashing in and out of the Bourbon Street Grill; teenagers hung out in front of the Landmark Cinema; and a big, blue, furry mascot stood outside of Dick’s Sporting Goods, directing potential customers his way.

Nikki continued to drive down the strip, past Claire’s Fashion Jewelry and AT&T Wireless. “What exactly are we looking for?” she asked.

“Anything out of the ordinary.”

“That’s a pretty broad category. Care to narrow that down a bit?”

“Keep moving,” Tony said, maintaining a serious look. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Sounds like pornography,” she said with a laugh.

“Huh?”

“You know, porn.”

“Yeah,” Tony replied, tilting his head toward her. “I know porn.”

“Well, few people can define it, but nobody has trouble pointing it out.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Drive.”

Nikki made several more slow passes down the strip. “This is insane. We don’t know who or what we’re supposed to be looking for.”

“Keep driving,” Tony ordered.

“This is our fifth pass.”
And you’re driving me crazy
, she thought.

“I’m aware of that. Make another run.”

Nikki gritted her teeth. “All right.”

Another ten minutes of aimless cruising passed by.

“Over there,” Tony shouted, pointing to the right.

“Where?”

“Up ahead, outside patio, Bourbon Street Grill.”

Nikki pulled up next to the curb. Tony jumped out.

“Hey,” she yelled. “Where…”

Tony was gone, halfway across the promenade. Nikki hit the hazard lights on the center console and engaged the electronic parking brake. She rushed out of the car and followed him.

The commotion gained the attention of an anchor-bearded man dining at the grill. He recognized Tony and stood up.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Tony hollered from a distance.

The man paused for a moment, patted himself down as if he’d misplaced something in his blazer, then leaped over the patio gates and sprinted toward Dick’s Sporting Goods.

Tony ran after him. Nikki lingered behind, just in case he doubled back. The man picked up speed, rounded a commercial trash bin, and headed for the parking lot. Tony adjusted, gaining ground. Seconds later, he managed to close the distance to a single arm’s length. Tony threw himself into the air and drove his shoulder into the man’s back. The force propelled the stranger face-first onto the pavement. A small crowd quickly gathered. “Kick his ass!” one bystander shouted. “Bring the pain!” yelled another.

Tony wrestled the man onto his side. “Didn’t I tell you not to run?”

He squirmed underneath him. “Please don’t hurt me,” he pleaded.

Tony eased up a bit, shifting his bodyweight.

“You’re not Patrone,” the man said.

“What gave it away, my Caucasian-Asian features?”

“Patrone said not to trust anybody but him. Where’s Mr. Patrone?”

At that moment, Nikki arrived on the scene. “What the hell’s going on?” she asked, out of breath.

Tony turned toward her and smiled. “Our friend here appears to be waiting on Patrone.”

Nikki’s eyes shot up. “Really?”

“Patrone,” the bearded man repeated. “Where’s Mr. Patrone?”

Tony grabbed him by his blazer lapels and yanked him up slightly off the ground. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be manhandling you. So listen to me very carefully. I’m going to release my hold on you, you’re going to stand, and the three of us are going to converse with each other like adults. Understand?”

The man nodded eagerly. Once the action had died down, the small crowd dispersed.

“What’s your name?” Nikki asked once he was on his feet.

The man wrinkled his brow as if he were in deep concentration. “Clayton Thomas Austern.”

“Profession?”

“He’s an accountant,” Tony chimed in.

Nikki paused at Tony’s revelation and turned to look over at him.

“Let me bring you up to speed, Frank,” Tony began. “Austern here was a bean counter hired by my boss to review our books for an upcoming internal audit.”

Nikki was intrigued. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Austern said. “I first came into contact with Mr. Patrone on Mr. Quinn’s yacht. He approached me and my assistant, Priscilla, while we were working.”

“What did he want?”

Austern hesitated. His cheeks reddened, and he looked away.

“Well?” Nikki pressed.

“Forgive me, miss,” he cautioned, “but, um, sexual relations with Priscilla.”

“That’s it?” Tony complained.

“Well, no.”

Nikki touched Austern’s elbow lightly. “What else, Clayton?”

He glanced back over at her. “He handed us his business card, so I contacted him a day or two later to follow up.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Tony said, slapping the accountant across the back. “Go on.”

“Mr. Patrone mentioned he’d be coming into a large sum of money soon and wanted to know if I could move it for him undetected to an offshore account.”

“Where?” Nikki asked.

“He never told me. That’s what today’s meeting was about. Mr. Patrone was going to fill in all the blanks, and I was going to give him a firm quote for my services.”

“When were you supposed to meet?”

Austern glanced at his Frederique Constant watch. “About half an hour ago.”

“Okay,” Tony cut in. “Here’s what were gonna do. Austern, you’re gonna park your rear end at a table back at the Bourbon Street Grill. And Frank?”

Nikki perked up.

“You and I are gonna get back in the car and watch from a distance. There’s a chance Patrone might still show up. Clayton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t screw this up, or I’ll cut your balls off and waterboard you with all the blood pouring out of you.”