Controlling Interest (18 page)

“Thanks, brother.” David swiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I borrowed this thing from one of our sponsor churches, and they need it back for their evening service.”

“No problem. Glad to help.” Matt pushed up the truck's tailgate. “Now that I know you're here, I'll probably slide on over a little more often. I live about midway down Beale where the Elvis clock shop is.”

“Now there's a slice of Americana for you.” David put his arm around his wife, who held the baby against her hip. “Alison's anniversary gift came from there, didn't it, honey?”

Alison nodded. “Dear old Elvis's guitar keeps perfect time. Which reminds me — it's nearly noon, so I'd better get Davey home for his nap.” She smiled at Natalie. “Why don't you and Matt come back for lunch? We've got plenty of soup and french fries.”

Natalie shook her head. “No, thanks. My mom's expecting me home.”

Matt looked down at his feet. “I shouldn't impose.”

“Impose?” Alison laughed. “We cook for fifty to a hundred folks every single meal. What's one more?”

Matt's mouth fell open. “Who pays for all the groceries?”

“We're sponsored by several local churches, plus restaurants and grocery stores donate food.” David looked at Natalie. “You're going to ask your mom to look into getting us a bus, right?”

“Sure.” Natalie hesitated. “Are you sure Yasmine didn't come back to the shelter last night? She couldn't have slipped in without you noticing?”

Alison shook her head. “No. If she was there, I'd know. We had our usual crowd of women, with a few kids and babies.”

“I guess you're right.” Natalie sighed. “I'm parked in front, so I'll go out that way. Enjoyed the service, David. See y'all later.”

“Bye, Natalie.” Alison hugged her warmly. “Thanks for sharing your talent.”

“I'll walk out with you,” said Matt. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I did get a lead on the Akbar woman.” He opened the back door to the building. “Got an email early this morning, which is why I was a little late. I'll check it out this afternoon and let you know.”

Natalie stopped under his arm as he held the door for her. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“It's an old address from a couple of years ago that turned up on Google white pages. Might be nothing, so don't get excited.” He looked down at her, the vivid eyes lazy and humorous.

Natalie made herself walk on. He didn't have to keep her apprised of his every move. Even close partners didn't live in each other's pockets all the time. “I know. I'm just frustrated that this is taking so long.”

Matt swung along beside her. “Nothing unusual. I've had cases drag on for months. Aren't you going over to Tunica tomorrow to resign from your job?”

Was he trying to get rid of her again? “I've already taken care of it on the phone. The sheriff said he'd mail all my stuff to me, and not to worry about coming in. Which is a really good thing.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “My old boyfriend's still there. I wasn't looking forward to a confrontation.”

Matt frowned. “Was he ugly to you? I could beat the snot out of him for you if you want.”

A little bounce of . . . something scooted under Natalie's ribs. It was really nice to have a protective male around, even if he was halfway teasing. She could just see herself showing up at the sheriff's office with Matt in tow. Bradley would go berserko.

She shook her head. “Not necessary. But one thing I need to do soon is look for an apartment. Mom and I aren't compatible.”

“That surprises me. I liked your mom a lot.”

“Oh, she's great. It's just that she's such a neat freak, used to her empty nest. I can't remember to put stuff in the dishwasher, and I leave my clothes everywhere.” She opened her purse to dig for her keys, embarrassed. “You probably think I'm terrible. Your office is squeaky clean.”

He laughed. “That's because Tootie mows through there on a regular basis. You should see my apartment. I don't let her in there unless she's got a pie in her hand.”

Natalie looked up. “Really?”

He held up his hand in a Vulcan salute. “Total slob.”

“Wow.” She eyed his neat shirt and purple-green-and-gold tie. Bold but clean of line. “I never would've known.”

He leaned close. “I'll keep your secret if you'll keep mine.”

Something skipped between them. She caught her breath, met his eyes, and let her gaze drop to his mouth just an inch or so away. One beat. Two. He didn't move, and he was looking at her lips now. Ooh. Broad daylight outside a church. On the other hand, privacy was overrated. She closed her eyes.

Nothing happened. She opened her eyes to find Matt gazing over her head. “What's the matter?”

“There's a lady in a pink track suit watching us from across the street. I'm getting a little creeped out.”

Natalie turned. “That's Keturah. She's the one who talked to Yasmine Friday night.”

“Maybe you should go see what she wants.”

“You think she wants to talk to me?”

“I'd bet on it.” He stepped away, leaving blank, empty space between them. His expression was wiped clean of any physical tension. “I've got to get back to David and Alison's. Call me if you find out anything new.” With a wave he disappeared inside the chapel.

Natalie stared at the closed glass door. Rats. What was that all about? Sighing, she looked over her shoulder. Keturah was crossing the street, heedless of a bus turning the corner.

“Keturah!” Natalie waved. “Watch out!”

In the nick of time the little homeless woman scooted across, outrunning the bus. She grabbed Natalie's arm. “I thought that was you! I saw her again. She's in the park.”

“Who? Yasmine? What park?” Natalie shoved the idea of kissing Matt Hogan to the back of her brain. Pure, godly women didn't think about kissing men they'd only known for three days. As far as she knew.

Keturah's arms windmilled. “Riverside Park. I went down there first thing this morning to pick up cans, and there she was, asleep on a bench.”

“She slept in the park last night? Oh my gosh! I wonder if she knew I was looking for her at the shelter.” Matt had already gone back to the shelter with David and Alison. Natalie could call him. On the other hand, she didn't really need him, just to check this out. “Keturah, can you show me where you saw her last?”

“Yes, ma'am. Come on.” Keturah started back across the street.

“No, no, let's take my car.” Clutching her keys, Natalie darted toward the Miata. Adrenaline jellified her knees. If she found Yasmine by herself, she'd prove she deserved a full partnership in the agency.
Woo-hoo!

Mid-morning Jarrar faced his unhappy father in the living room of his apartment. His parents had arrived late last night, and his mother still lay asleep in the second bedroom, exhausted from the long transatlantic flight. As the Haqs always flew first-class, his father's displeasure had nothing to do with crowded flights. Neither did it relate to the quality of the fine Turkish coffee the two men shared.

“Yasmine must be found, Jarrar.” Father's severe face drew tighter as he stared at Jarrar across the top of his cup. “One does not share the bread, but one shares the shame.”

Jarrar had heard the proverb many times during the course of his life. If one chose unwisely in matters relating to business or family, the effect reverberated upon all of the
biradari
, one's patrilineal kin. At present he could not reveal the plans that would reflect glory upon them all, but Father would certainly be pleased in the fullness of time when all came to light. Though Father had perhaps developed closer ties with the West than was good for Pakistan, he was a good Muslim. And Jarrar knew how to play the game.

Still — Father was entirely correct that Yasmine must return for the wedding.

He acknowledged his father's wisdom with a nod. “I spoke with the detective who has been hired to find her.” Technically, he supposed there were
two
detectives. The woman he dismissed, however, as the Americans would say, as an “airhead.” “He believes that Yasmine is still here in Memphis. That she spent the night at a — ” he took a breath and blurted it out — “homeless shelter. She has exchanged her Pakistani clothes for American jeans and T-shirt and is apparently on some kind of slumming tour.”

Predictably, Father was incredulous. “This cannot be true.”

Jarrar felt the rage overtake him. He could still hardly believe Yasmine's shameful behavior himself. “She should be beaten. She
will
be beaten when she is mine. If I had known that she would be so incorrigibly selfish and vulgar, I might never have — ”

“The choice was not entirely yours, my son,” his father reminded him, frowning. “Yasmine was chosen for her lineage and because her father's money is frankly necessary to everything we hold dear. She is beautiful and educated, and her understanding of American and British ways will be invaluable to us.”

“Yes, Father, as you say.” Jarrar bowed his head respectfully, though a smirk threatened to break through. Father could not know the potential power Jarrar held in his two hands, ready to explode upon the infidels who strove to conquer the Muslim world.

“In any case,” Father continued, pleased by Jarrar's outward deference, “you must spare no expense in locating and reclaiming your bride, but by all means, keep it quiet. If the press discovers she voluntarily left you, they will blow it completely out of proportion. The diplomatic embarrassment would be unbearable.”

Jarrar's lip curled. “The American media does enjoy a romantic scandal.” Americans loved to gawk at one another, dwell upon minutiae, gamble away their power. They did not deserve the massive wealth that Allah — all praise be to him — allowed them to enjoy for this brief moment. “I assure you, Father,” he continued smoothly, “I am doing everything in my power to recover Yasmine. We will use the American detectives, but I have sent Feroz to pursue any leads they are not able to follow.”

Jarrar considered himself worthy of earthly glory as well as that which was to come in the afterlife. Therefore Yasmine must be returned to his possession.

Matt shoved through the Peabody's revolving door and tried to shut out the image of Natalie standing in front of him, reeling him in with tiptilted green eyes and a misplaced dimple. She was such an innocent kitten, she probably had no idea what it did to him when she closed her eyes — an embossed invitation if he'd ever seen one. Oh, yeah, he'd wanted to kiss that dimple and then slide his lips over to find out what she tasted like, and it wasn't just loneliness or lust. It was growing affection, and curiosity about whether or not she was as fine as she seemed.

Then he remembered they were playing a game — the one where he had something she wanted, which was part of his agency. Well, maybe it was the other way around. Whatever — it was a good thing that cuckoo lady in the track suit interrupted his incipient idiocy.

Putting Natalie out of his mind and anticipating a ballgame on TV when he got back to the apartment, he'd sat down to a noisy, carb-heavy lunch with the Myers family. Unfortunately he'd barely filled his plate when the phone rang. Jarrar Haq wanted an update. So he'd gulped his soup down and told himself a walk would be good for him.

Passing through the lobby he looked up and saw a group of ladies enjoying high tea on the mezzanine, cackling like a bunch of elderly hens. Brought Natalie to mind. He could picture her, a bright-eyed preteen dunking a scone into clotted cream, strawberry jam smeared up to her elbows.

Smiling, he took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Haq had an apartment in town, but he'd asked Matt to meet him at the Patels' suite. His parents had arrived in the States last night, and they wanted to meet the American detectives who were searching for their future daughter-in-law.