Doom with a View (30 page)

I smiled weakly and backed off two inches and smiled when she sighed. “Sorry!”

Candice turned her attention to the queen behind the bar, a colossal, frightful figure in a leather bustier that pumped up the fake cleavage to an unholy degree. I wondered how she breathed. “You two lost?” she said in a deep voice, obviously taking us for tourists.

“Not really,” Candice replied. “Couple of Miller Lites, please?” and she delicately placed a fifty on the bar.

The bartender shrugged and uncapped two bottles, setting them down in front of us. “I can’t break a fifty this early in the night. It’ll use up all my change,” she complained.

Candice smiled sweetly and said, “Then keep the difference.”

The bartender looked surprised but didn’t argue and shoved the fifty directly into her cleavage. I noticed that she’d also failed to ring up the sale. Before she could turn away, however, Candice added, “I was wondering if you might have seen this girl in here before.” And she shoved the picture of Bianca forward.

The bartender regarded it and smiled. “She’s a little too young and a little too pretty for these bitches to put up with in here, honey.”

“She would have been an unwelcome guest?” Candice probed.

“Yep. Just like the two of you are likely to be. I’d suggest you two ask your questions quick and get out before the rest of the party shows up, if you know what I mean.”

Candice nodded but showed the other pictures of the kids to the bartender, who continued to shake her head. “Nope,” she said. “Never seen ’em.”

Candice thanked her and stepped away from the bar, leaving her beer untouched. I followed after downing about half of mine. (What? A girl can’t have a little something to take the edge off?)

My partner methodically wove her way through the staff, asking all of them if they’d ever seen Bianca or any of the others. Each and every one said he hadn’t. We were on our last server when someone tapped me from behind. I turned around and got a whiff of the worst breath I’ve ever smelled in my life. It was so bad, my eyes watered, and I took an involuntary step back as I eyed the owner of the offensive smell. I stared up at
the
ugliest “woman” I’d ever seen.

A veritable beast stared angrily down at me. Six-five in the stiletto heels she wore with a bright yellow skirt that bulged in very inelegant places and a matching feather halter top that allowed scads of flab and fake boobage to droop and dangle and collect in some rather odd spaces.

Above the neckline things grew worse. The head was like something out of a freak show. A headdress of yellow feathers framed a truly unfortunate face. Small beady eyes fringed with gigantic false lashes gave the appearance of two spiders divided by a bulbous nose and puffy cheeks smeared with rouge. Orange-coated lips hung open, revealing the source of the stench—rotting yellow teeth with inflamed gums and small particles of food stuck in the cracks.

I took another step back, and Big Bird noticed. “You afraid I’m gonna bite?” she asked in a voice so deep it made the outfit even more comical.

“A little,” I admitted.

Big Bird seemed to think this was hilarious and she opened her gap wide in a freakish smile before focusing on Candice. “Whatcha got there, girlfriend?”

Candice held her composure a little better than I did, but I noticed that she was careful to breathe through her mouth. “We’re trying to find anyone who may have seen this girl hanging around here,” she said, handing over Bianca’s picture.

Big Bird looked at it with interest. “Did she go missing?”

Candice nodded but withheld saying anything about her murder.

Big Bird studied the photo a little more earnestly. “I don’t recognize her,” she said. “And if anyone in here would recognize her, it’d be me. I know everybody that comes and goes through these doors.”

My radar dinged at that moment and I urged Candice to show the photos of the other kids, each labeled with their names. “Did you ever catch a glimpse of these other kids in here?” Candice asked.

Big Bird studied each picture carefully, shaking her head at all the pictures save one. When she pointed her finger at Michael Derby’s name, Big Bird’s eyes lit up. “Derby,” she said with a sly, knowing smile. “Is this Matthew Derby’s kid?”

My radar pinged. “Yes,” I said.

Big Bird’s awful smile widened. “He looks like his dad,” she said, and I knew there was some sort of inside joke that I wasn’t getting. “If you see Matt, sugar, you tell him Reba Bell says hi.” And with that, she walked away, still wearing that same satisfied smirk.

“
That
was weird,” I said as we watched Reba shimmy and shake her butt better than Marilyn Monroe.

But Candice wasn’t listening. Her eyes were unfocused and she seemed deep in thought. “Hello,” I said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Candice.”

She blinked and looked at me. “Time to go,” she said, grabbing me by the hand.

I didn’t argue, as I’d really had enough of the burlesque scene, and we headed out. Our cabbie was waiting for us and I don’t think I was ever so glad to see a taxi in my life. “We headed back to the hotel?” I asked.

“No,” was all Candice said, and without further explanation she simply told the cabbie to drive around the block while she had time to think.

While Candice was “thinking,” my cell phone bleeped. I dug it out and looked at the ID.
FBI
was displayed on the screen. “Crap,” I said as the phone rang again.

I showed it to Candice, who shrugged. “You might as well answer it.”

“Hello?” I said after allowing for one more ring.

“Hey, hot stuff,” came Dutch’s silky voice.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hi, sweetie,” I said pleasantly. “How goes it?”

“It goes,” he said without further comment. “Did your flight get in okay?”

“Absolutely,” I said. I was quite sure the flight had arrived just fine.

“Milo called me a little while ago,” he said. “He heard you were alone at the house and he wants to know if you might like some company for dinner.”

I was instantly on edge. “Er . . . ,” I said, trying to think fast. “I’m actually thinking of turning in early, honey. And I’m not really hungry.”

“Ah,” he said. “Okay, no worries. How’s Candice?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “I mean, I dropped her off at her place this morning. I’m assuming she’s as exhausted as I am.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I thought you guys might be out sightseeing or something.”

My stomach clenched and I thought,
Uh-oh.
“Sightseeing?”

“Yeah, you know, Chicago has so much to offer. Maybe you two could take in a show or something while you’re here.”

My shoulders slumped. “How long have you known?”

“Milo went over to our place to check on you. He said you weren’t there, so I contacted the airlines and they said you two never checked in.”

I looked at Candice, who was now paying attention to our conversation. “We’re busted,” I mouthed.

She motioned for me to give her the phone.

I shook my head.

She glared at me and made an insistent hand motion.

I shook my head more vigorously.

She reached out and yanked the phone out of my hand. “Hey, Dutch, it’s Candice,” she said casually.

I groaned. She was going to say something to make things worse. He’d break up with me. I’d die a spinster.

“Uh-huh,” she was saying. “Uh-huh . . . I see. Okay, so let me ask you something: Have you had a chance to interview Matthew Derby yet?” She paused, listening, and then she asked, “What time does he get in?” Another pause. “Okay. We’ll meet you at his house at ten. Abby’s been getting tons of hits on her radar and she needs to be in the same room when you guys interview the senator.”

My eyebrows shot up. What the heck was she talking about? But Candice seemed to be ignoring me. From the buzzing sound coming from the earpiece it sounded like Dutch wasn’t thrilled with the idea of our showing up at the interview either. But Candice was undeterred. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that, Dutch. What? Hello? I think I’m losing you. We must be in a bad area. I’ll see you at ten!” And she clicked off the line, then switched my phone off completely.

“If he breaks up with me, I’m totally blaming you,” I growled.

“Oh please,” she said, waving her hand at me. “Like he could ever leave
you
!”

I pouted at her for emphasis but switched topics. “What was all that about my radar getting tons of hits?”

“A smoke screen,” she said, then leaned over and said to the cabbie, “Can you take us back to our hotel? Oh, and can you turn up the radio? I love this song.”

He nodded and the volume to the music became louder.

When we had sufficient noise to cover our conversation, Candice explained, “We need to get the notebook back into Michael’s room,” she said. “After we put it back, we can tell Dutch to either get the senator’s permission to search Michael’s room or get a warrant and obtain it legally.”

“But the notebook doesn’t make much sense,” I said. “I mean, the Cock Tail was a bust. No one remembers seeing Bianca.”

“I think there’s more to this story than we realize,” Candice said. “A lot more. You just go sit with Derby while they interview him and see if your radar picks up anything. We’ll put these pieces together soon.”

I gave her a doubtful look but didn’t object. The cabbie dropped us off and he was told by Candice to pick us up again around nine forty-five. He looked hungrily at the cash that Candice shoved into his hand and nodded vigorously before heading off again.

We had about an hour to kill and in that time I watched TV while Candice jotted every word of the conversation in the lavender notebook down on a separate piece of paper. She kept standing up and pacing with her finger tapping her lip in deep concentration, so I asked her, “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

She shook her head. “It’s a weak theory,” she said. “I need more intel before I talk about it.”

I probably should have pressed her on it, because my radar is pretty good at indicating whether someone is on the right track or not, but I was really exhausted from all the travel and adrenaline and emotion of the last couple of days, so instead of pressing her to reveal her theory, I let the topic drop and settled myself more comfortably on the bed. Within moments, I was asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

It felt like my eyelids had just closed when Candice tapped me on the shin. “Hey, Sundance,” she said.

I jerked awake and sat up. “What?”

“Time to go,” she said. “And grab your duffel. We won’t be coming back here.”

I did as she said without argument and we hurried outside to the waiting cab. Candice gave him Derby’s address and we zipped off.

We arrived at the Derbys’ about ten minutes after ten—traffic was a little thicker than expected—and walked to the door. Candice rang the bell and swiveled to me. “Let me do all the talking,” she whispered.

“Don’t I always?”

The door was opened by one of the agents who’d laughed at me back in the conference room. “They’re expecting you,” he said without preamble. “Everyone’s in the senator’s study.”

We shuffled along behind him and into the home office. Senator Derby was sitting straight and dignified behind his large wooden desk. I noticed the resemblance between him and his son immediately. They both had the same good looks and sand-colored hair, but there was a hard edge to Senator Derby that I thought might have evolved over years in a political arena. Nothing much escaped his notice, his eyes moved about the room with a keen intelligence, and I thought he might be something of an expert in body language, able to read people almost as well as I did.

It unnerved me a little when his eyes settled on me and I knew he summed me up in about three seconds. I also knew he correctly assessed that I was someone to be cautious around.

The other people in the room included Dutch, two of the other agents I’d seen around the conference table at the local bureau, and one exceptionally livid Harrison. His face was nearly purple with anger, and I immediately dropped my eyes to the carpet and tried not to tremble in fear.

Apparently, he’d been aware that we were showing up, which surprised me, given how furious he looked. “Sorry for the interruption,” Candice said with a casual command I had to greatly admire. “Please continue with your interview.” She then shoved me toward an open chair near the senator’s desk and I hurried across the room to take it.

Once seated, I was shocked to see Candice motion to Dutch, and the two promptly left the room. I didn’t have a chance to ponder over what they could be up to, because Harrison continued the interview he’d been conducting with Michael’s father. “So the last time you heard from Michael was Tuesday morning around seven a.m.?”

“Yes,” said the senator.

“And in the course of that conversation, did he appear distressed or concerned?”

“No.”

“What did you two talk about?”

The senator eyed Harrison as if he were asking too many personal questions, and it amazed me how, after hearing that his son had gone missing and that three other teens had disappeared as well, he would feel the presence of the FBI as an intrusion. “We discussed the precautions I told you about earlier. How Michael was to come home directly after class and make sure to set the alarm on the house.”

“And why did you dismiss the security detail we tried to assign to your son?” Harrison asked bluntly.

The senator attempted a smile that reached nowhere near his eyes. “I had to consider how it might appear to the local press to have the FBI surrounding my home. My family has been subject to such idle cruelty by the media that I felt it important for Michael not to be fodder for public conjecture and speculation. After hearing that the last abduction was several months ago, I assessed the risk and decided there wasn’t much of it. Michael has certainly been unaware of any impending threat all these months and nothing has happened to him in that time, so I had reason to believe nothing would.”