Controlling Interest (6 page)

She caught up to him, despite his best efforts to leave her behind. “Didn't you read the Hardy Boys when you were a kid?”

“Not voluntarily.”

“You don't like to read?” She sounded like he'd just told her he ate locusts and honey for breakfast.

“I don't get the point of fiction.”

“Wow.” There was a moment's blessed silence while she digested his illiteracy. “How do you ‘wander' into a career like private investigations? I studied for four years and still don't know everything there is to know.”

He shrugged. “The idea never occurred to me until I'd already graduated from Northern Illinois with a business degree.” He caught her elbow as she stumbled off the escalator. “I had no idea what I wanted to do, so I followed one of my girlfriends here to Memphis. She's a journalist, works for the
Commercial Appeal
as a food reporter.”

“Girlfriend? Are you still dating?”

He shook his head. “We split after a couple of months. But I liked the warm weather down here, so I stayed.”

“But I thought — Daddy said your agency used to be based out of Chicago.”

“It was. Anyway, I spent a lot of time hanging out with newspaper people. They introduced me to one of their sources, a detective named Sonny Johnson. You sure you want to hear all this?”

“I like to know what makes people tick.” She gave him a sunny smile. “Especially when they're surly.”

“I'm not surly!” He squinted at her. “Whatever that means.”

“Perpetual bad mood. You've hardly cracked a smile since we left your office.”

“Don't you think I've had reason to be a little ticked? Getting my business hijacked right out from under my nose?” They reached baggage claim. “Is this the last place you saw Ms. Patel?”

“I told you, I watched her get in a van parked outside.” She huffed. “How is it my fault you sold your agency to my dad?”

Matt veered toward the exit. “It may not be your fault, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. The whole reason I'm in this mess is because for once in my life I tried to do what God told me to do. Looks like there should've been some kind of reward. Instead I get kicked in the teeth.”

Natalie looked up at him, nose scrunched. “There's nothing in the Bible that says God doles out rewards like a gumball machine. Sometimes you don't see the reason for things until years later. Sometimes not at all. Why don't you tell me what happened?”

“That's another long story.” The automatic doors opened and they walked outside. Lord save him from nosy women. “You wanted to know how I got from Memphis to Chicago and back. So anyway, I needed a job, and Sonny gave me a couple of computer-investigation projects. He saw I had a knack for it and taught me some tricks of the trade. I liked it enough to go into business with him. Then my dad had a heart attack.”

“Whoa. I'm sorry to hear that.” Natalie's animated expression softened.

“Yeah. Well, I went home to help my mom out. After Dad recovered, my sister talked me into staying. I was still pretty much a Good-Time Charlie at that point, and Chicago's got a busy nightlife. Lots of business for a PI, if you know what I mean.” He shrugged. “I opened my own agency and stayed there for a while until I took a case in Alabama.”

“You mean Judge Kincade? That was all over the news last summer.”

Matt nodded. “It was the beginning of the end — both for my client and me. I backed the wrong horse and wound up getting stiffed.”

“But you met the Lord because of it. Aren't you glad about that?”

“Sure, I — I guess so. Of course I am.” Matt squirmed. “Is this where you were standing? Where was the van parked?”

She pointed. “Down there. Northwest passenger pickup.”

“Okay, come on.” Matt approached a broadly built skycap notable for a shock of gray hair — J.T., according to his nametag. “'Morning, sir. Could I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Happy to,” the skycap boomed. “What can I do you for?”

Natalie smiled. “We need help finding someone who disappeared from the airport yesterday just before six o'clock.”

The skycap frowned. “A child?”

“No, a woman — a young lady about my age.”

Matt reached into the pocket of his jacket and handed a three-by-five photo of Yasmine to the skycap. “This is the girl we're looking for. She's Pakistani, small and dark, dressed in one of those gauzy tunic-and-pants outfits — lime green. She arrived on a flight through Amsterdam, and Natalie here sent her to pick up her luggage while she went for coffee.” A completely female and ridiculous thing to do, in his opinion. “Were you working yesterday?”

“Yeah, but this is a busy airport.” J.T. spread his beefy hands. “No tellin' how many Middle Eastern women came through those doors. I can't watch 'em all the time.”

“How about the van she got into?” Natalie was all but bouncing on her toes. “It was white with some kind of lightning logo on the side — an electrical company maybe? — parked in front of baggage claim.”

J.T. tapped his chin. “We had some trouble with the carousels yesterday. There were a couple of guys from Mojo Electric here working on them.”

Natalie lit up. “That's it! That's the logo I saw. Come on, Matt.” She grabbed his arm.

Matt shook hands with the skycap. “Thanks, man. You may have saved a woman's life.”

“Glad to help.”

On the way back across the parking lot, Natalie tugged Matt's sleeve. “Where'd you get Yasmine's photo?”

“Your dad emailed it to me last night.”

“Last night? Then you were planning to take the case all along!”

“No, I wasn't. But I save everything. Learned the hard way.”

She gave a small, indignant huff. “Daddy could've given me her picture before he sent me to pick her up.”

“Baby, nobody said life is fair,” Matt said callously. “Get used to it.”

“Oh, trust me, I'm used to it. But that's the kind of thing you need to teach me.”

“You just learned, right? You'll never forget. Always take a picture with you if you have one.”

“Got it,” she muttered, tucking the photo into her purse. “Oh, and unless you want a karate chop to the throat, please don't call me ‘baby' again.”

Natalie paid for Happy Meals at the Golden Arches. She shouldn't have made the karate chop remark. Nick, the little twerp, told her regularly that her teasing had all the subtlety of Miss Piggy on a tear. She noisily sucked the last of her milkshake down as Matt drove his neat black Volvo to an industrial area in central Memphis. He probably had no idea how chauvinistic he sounded.

She looked out the window, where a row of recently remodeled office-warehouses lined a set of railroad tracks. Trees were scarce and the pavement was crumbly, but the area had a generally hopeful appearance. At least the whitewash on the doorframes was fresh.

Matt parked beside a truck in front of a building emblazoned with the “Mojo Electric” lightning bolt. “Okay, Nancy Drew,” he said as Natalie started to get out. “I'm taking the lead.”

She sighed. Too bad a karate chop was out of the question.

Slinging the strap of her saddlebag purse over her shoulder, she followed Matt to the office door. She'd left the little spangled wrist-bag at home, since it wasn't big enough to hold a PDA. Pretty soon she was going to have to start carrying a feather-edged tote like Grandma Tubberville.

Matt held the glass door for Natalie to walk through. At least he was a gentlemanly chauvinist.

“Depending on what we find here,” he said, “we split up. Divide and conquer.”

“Split up?” She halted inside the tiny foyer. “I can't learn from you if I'm not with you. Besides, my Investigative Techniques professor said you should always have one person conduct the interview, and another to take notes.”

“I've never had that luxury, so I make a point of remembering what people tell me. Then I write it down when I get back to the car.”

“I'm sure you've got a fabulous memory, but what if you have to talk to somebody for more than a few minutes? It's important for court records to have detailed notes. Besides, your partner can observe clues in a room, note body language, all kinds of stuff you can't do if you're by yourself.”

Matt looked at her for a moment, frowning. “Guess you have a point. I'm always torn between starting at the last place the person was seen, or with family members who know them. You know, letting the trail get cold versus ascertaining their probable moves.”

Natalie's mouth fell open. That had almost sounded like a compliment. “I printed out a list of questions. If you'll take the short version and conduct the interview, I'll take notes. Goodness knows I'm used to clerking.” She hesitated. “Then when we finish here we could go see Yasmine's family.”

“Your dad says Yasmine's parents are still in Karachi. They hadn't planned to come over until a couple of weeks before the wedding. Now that she's disappeared, her father's gone postal. The Patels will fly in tomorrow.”

“That eliminates an interview with them, then — at least for today. What about her fiancé and his family?”

“I get the feeling they know facts about her, like we do. But not so much personally. Yasmine and Haq were hooked up by their parents long-distance.”

Natalie made a face. “How could you marry a guy you never met before? What if he was a dork? What if he turned out to be a wife-beater?”

“You know what? I bet there are a lot of American women who marry men like that, guys who've deliberately hidden things. Seeing people socially doesn't let you into all their secrets.”

She gave him a speculative look. “I suppose so. What secrets are you hiding?”

“If we ever see each other socially, I'll let you know.” He looked amused. “Come on, let's see what gives with these Mojo guys.”

Natalie followed Matt into the barren little office and looked around. As expected, wires of every conceivable thickness, length, and color hung on the corkboard walls. A woman of indeterminate age with brassy yellow hair sat reading a travel brochure behind a counter. She looked up when the door opened.

“Read the sign,” she said in a raspy smoker's voice. “No solicitors allowed.”

“We're not soliciting.” Natalie sailed up to the counter. “We just want to talk to the two guys who were fixing luggage carousels at the airport yesterday.”

Matt stepped in front of her. “That's right. Do you know where we could find them?”

Second banana wasn't Natalie's favorite gig, but she moved to the background.

The yellow-haired lady leaned around Matt to look at Natalie. “They're out on a job.”

Top Banana moved aside with an ironic hand gesture. Natalie grinned at the lady. “Can you give us an address?”

“Maybe. Did Joey win the lottery again? He's the luckiest goober I've ever seen.”

“I don't know anything about the lottery.” Natalie smothered a laugh. “We think these two guys gave a friend of ours a ride from the airport. She — the friend — has disappeared.”

“My stars, those two just can't leave the ladies alone. If it ain't stopping at Hooters between jobs, it's picking up strange women at the airport.”

“You mean they've done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Picked up women.” Natalie felt like she was in an Abbot and Costello sketch. “Where would they take her?”

“Take who?”

Matt, lips quirked, cut Natalie a look. “May I?” When she shrugged, he leaned on the counter and gave Yellow Hair his charming smile. “Let's start over. What's your name, sweetheart?”

“Peaches.”

“Okay, Peaches. Here's the deal. Joey and his buddy — wait, what are their full names?”

“Joey Roberts and Leland Stafford.”

“Right. Roberts and Stafford. They took the daughter of a business associate away from the airport after she'd been met by my lovely — uh, partner here.” He ignored Natalie's frown. “If you'll tell us where we can find these two guys, we'd like to ask them a few questions.”

“Are they in trouble? 'Cause if they are, I'm not saying a word. Joey ain't got the sense to come in out of the rain, but he's a sweet guy. And Leland's our best technician. We can't afford to lose him.”

Matt shook his head. “We're not the law, we're just trying to find Yasmine.”

Peaches looked at Natalie. “You swear?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“Okay. Well, there's a little pool hall off Airways, over by the airport. They like to hang out there after work. It's called Porky's.”

“Porky's?” Matt frowned. “Is that next to Fred's Dollar Store at the Winchester intersection?”

“That's it. You know the place?”

“I've heard of it.” Matt glanced at Natalie. “Thanks, Peaches. We've got to be going.”