Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 02 - A Deadly Bargain, Plan C (17 page)

“I’m
gonna
get some ice,” I announced.

“Ice?
 
What for?”
Jason demanded.

“Because I want ice—
okay?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“About as far as I can th
row you
.”

“I’m getting ice.  I’ll be right back,” I insisted.

I marched out of the room.  The elevator was at the other end of the long hallway.  I sprinted for it.  Jason’s voice followed me down the corridor.  “Darn you,
Devonie
!  Get back here!  Let the authorities handle this!”

The elevator door closed with me inside, right before Jason reached it.  I smiled and waved to him
, then
pushed the button for the lobby and felt my stomach rise as the elevator descended.  I contemplated how I was going to pay the cab fare, but decided I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.

The elevator doors opened and
my jaw dropped
.  Dan Cooper and Tom Willis stood in front of me, smiling.  They each took one giant step into the elevator and grabbed my arms.  Dan pressed the button for the seventh floor.

I gawked at them.  “You left. 
I saw your c
ar
—“

Dan slung his heavy arm over my shoulder. 
“Figured you were watching.
  We just made a quick trip around the block.  A little test, I guess you’d say.”  Dan looked over at his partner, Tom Willis.  “I’d say she failed, wouldn’t you, Tom?”

Tom nodded his head. 
“Big time.”

“Now.
  You’re not
gonna
try it again. 
Right?”
Dan lectured.

I nodded.

“And where are we going right now?” he continued.

“Room seven twenty-eight?”
I replied, as innocently as I could.

“That’s right.  Do I need to put an armed guard at the door?”

“No.  I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Good.”

The elevator doors opened to reveal Jason, ready to jump in.  Dan marched me out of the elevator.  “You let me down, Jason,” Dan said.

“I k
now.  Sorry.  She’s just so…so—
“

“Hardheaded?” Dan offered.

“That, too.”

I plopped down on the bed and watched the opening credits roll for some action-packed thriller, guaranteed to keep me on the edge of my seat to the very end.

Jason scowled at me.  “Don’t you try that
again.
  I promised Dan I’d keep you out of trouble.”

I scowled back at him.  “Be quiet.  I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Chapter
Twenty-one

J
ason ordered us room service for lunch.  I had no change to tip the bellboy.  I gave Jason the same look my mother used to give my father when he failed to compliment Grandma on her cooking.  Jason was clueless.  Finally, I stuck my elbow in his ribs.  “Are you going to tip him or should I offer to wash his car?”

“Huh?  Oh, right.”  Jason handed him a dollar and then lifted the lid off his entree.

I sat Indian style on the bed with my lunch tray spread out in front of me.  I took a bite of a carrot,
then
picked up the phone.  I dialed my number and listened to my messages as the crunching of the carrot between my teeth echoed in my ear.  My jaw quit grinding the food, much the same way a horse stops chewing when startled by a sudden sound.  I perked up my ears and listened. 

Jason noticed my sudden concern.  He sat on the edge of the chair and watched me.  “What?  What?”

I shushed him and held the phone tighter against my ear, my free hand covering my other ear to muffle outside noise.

I replayed the message.  His voice was barely audible.  “It’s Spencer.  Call your fri
end at the FBI.  That Aziz guy—
he’s one of ‘
em
.  If we don’t stop ‘
em
by three, it’s all over for…oh, jeez
—
they’re coming.  I’m at…
s
hoot…
where the heck am I? 
I’ve
gotta
get out
of
here.  I’ll call you back in
—
”  Click
.  The line went dead.

I pushed my lunch tray out of the way and scrambled for my shoes.  “Come on.  We’ve
gotta
get going.”

“No way.
  Dan said to stay
—“

“I know what Dan said.  Spencer’s in trouble.  Real trouble! 
If we don’t get to him by three
—I don’t even want to think about what might happen. 
You coming or not?”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure
yet.”  I flipped open the Yellow Pages.  My finger ran down the l
ist of car dealers in San Diego
until it landed on the one I was after.  “Let’s go.”

Jason complained non-stop as he withdrew eighty dollars from the ATM machine in the hotel lobby.  “Dan’s
gonna
kill me for letting you do this,” he grumbled.

I flagged down a cab and we jumped in the back.  “Harbor and twenty-ninth,” I blurted.

The cab driver took the toothpick out of his mouth and dropped it in the ashtray. 
“Sure thing.
 
You two on vacation?”

Jason started t
o chat. 
“Oh, no.
  We both live
—“

“Yes.  We’re on vacation. 
From Ohio.
  San Diego’s such a beautiful city.”  I flashed my mother’s look at Jason again.

“Right.
  Ohio. 
Brought the little woman out West to see some stars.”
  Jason winked at me.  I rolled my eyes.

The cabby smiled at us in the rear-view mirror.  “Ohio.  My sister’s in Ohio.  What part you from?”

I racked my brain for a city name. 
“The middle.”

Jason shot me a sideways glance and mouthed the word “middle?” at me.

The cabby chuckled.  “What city, I mean?”

“Oh.  Uh…Toledo,” I stammered.

Jason shook his head at me.

“Toledo?  Isn’t that up North?”  The cabby glanced over his shoulder to change lanes.

I searched Jason’s expression.  He nodded at me.  “Yes, it is.  When I said middle, I meant t
he middle of
nowhere.”

The cabby laughed.  I changed the subject as quickly as I could.

Jason paid the fare.  We were barely three steps out of the cab when we were greeted by a salesman at the sidewalk.  “Good afternoon.  Welcome to
Grovesner
Mercedes.  Can I show you one of the most beautiful cars in the world?”

I flashed him a smile.  “Actually, I’m here to see Mr.
Grovesner
.  Is he in?”

“Lou?  Yeah, I think so. 
Right inside.”
  He pointed out a man to us through the glass windows.  “That’s him, there.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Jason followed me inside.  I approached the man identified as Lou.  He was busy reading through a contract.  “Excuse me.  Mr.
Grovesner
?”

He looked up from his papers. 
“Depends.
 
You from the IRS?”

I exchanged a glance with Jason.

“Just kidding.
  I’m Lou
Grovesner
.  What can I do for you?” 

“I need your help, Mr.
Grovesner
.”

“Please…Lou.  What is it?  I aim to please.”

“I need the current address of someone who bought a car from you recently.”

“Address?
  I’m sorry, but I can’t give out that kind of information.  Privacy laws, you know.”

I wonder when it was that we voted on all these laws.  There’s a law for everything these days.  “It’s really important.  Someone’s life may depend on it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your names,” Lou continued.

“
Devonie
Lace.  This is—
“

“Jason.  Jason Walters,” Jason offered.

“
Devonie
.
  I’d like to help you out, but I just can’t bend the rules.”

Couldn’t this man take what I just said at face value, realize a person’s life could depend on information he has, and have enough heart to help, regardless of the rules?  I glanced around the showroom.  There were a dozen people milling around, admiring the luxury cars.  “Do you have an office where we can talk privately?”

“I do, but we can talk here,
Devonie
.  There’s just no way—
“

“I saw your wife yesterday, Lou,” I interrupted, looking as concerned as I could.

Lou raised a brow. 
“My wife?
  But she was…yesterday?”

“That’s right. 
Eighth Precinct.
  She seemed like a very compassionate person.  Maybe she could convince you to help me.”

Lou took me by the arm.  “My office is this way.”

Lou escorted us into his private office.  Jason and I sat across from him at his desk.  “Now, what kind of scam are you trying to pull?”  His pleasant, aim-to-please voice turned sour.

“It’s no scam, Lou.  A friend of mine is in terrible danger, and Mohammed Aziz is the cause of it.  I need to find him, and you sold him a car recently.  You must have an address where he’s staying in San Diego.”

Lou fiddled with a mechanical pencil, dropping the long, thin lead on the floor.  “You saw my wife?” he asked as he bent over to pick up the lead.

“Yes. 
Lovely woman, but very sad.
  You should try to get her some help.”  I scooted to the edge of my seat.  “Please, Mr.
Grovesner
.  You’d be d
oing a good thing by helping me.  O
therwise, I might have to go to my friend down at the
Tribune
.  He somet
imes can get information for me
—but he usually wants something in return.”

Lou put the pencil back in its holder.  H
is lips straightened into a tight
thin line.  “That won’t be necessary.  I’ll be right back.”  Lou rolled his chair out from behind the desk and stalked out of the room.

Jason waited for the door to close.  “What’ve you got on him?”

“His wife is…well…I’ll tell you later.”

“What?  Tell me now.  How do you know his wife?”

“She was in jail yesterday.”

Jason’s eyes lit up.  He wanted the dirt, and he wanted it now.

Lou popped his head back in.  “Just one
more minute
.  I’m having one of the girls get that address for you.”

I smiled at him.  “Thanks, Lou.”

Five minutes later, Lou returned with a yellow sticky note.  An address and phone number were scribbled on it.  He handed it to me.  “You didn’t get this from me
—
or anyone else here. 
Deal?”

I nodded and slipped the paper in my pocket.  Lou walked to the door and waited for us to leave, with not so much as a polite smile.

I stood up and Jason followed my lead.  “Thank you, Lou.  I really appreciate this.”  I checked my watch.  “You
know,
you shou
ld take your wife out to lunch—
maybe even a matinee.  She’s pro
bably just crying out for some—
“

“Thanks for the advice.”  His eyes shot up toward the ceiling.  “I’ll think about it.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

The taxi dropped us off in front of Jason’s house.  I slid out of the cab and waited while Jason paid the fare.  I watched as Jason’s neighbor wandered slowly around the Jeep parked in his driveway, periodically bending over to peer under the vehicle.  When he saw Jason arrive home, he strolled over to the curb.

“Hey, Jason.”

Jason turned to greet him.  “Matt!  You’re back.  How was the vacation?”

“Great!  Not long enough.”

I smiled and nodded with total understanding.

“Something weird, though.  You see anyone messing with my Jeep?  Plates are gone,” Matt informed us.

I held my breath for a moment.  I’d managed to really make Jason mad at me over the last couple days.  He could get even right about now.

“Really?
 
No, man.
  I didn’t see anything,” Jason lied.

“Huh.  Guess I’ll have to make a trip to the DMV—get a new set.”

Jason shook his head in sympathy. 
“Bummer.”

“Yeah.
  Well, thanks for feeding Barney.”

“Any time.
  Catch
ya
later.”

The puzzled man wandered back to his Jeep and checked underneath it again.  He shook his head and drifted back toward his house, glancing one more time at the
plateless
vehicle parked in his driveway.

Jason disappeared into the house long enough to retrieve his keys.  I met him at his truck, parked in the driveway.

I jumped into the passenger seat
and he slid in behind the wheel.  “Okay.  Where to?” he asked, with more eagerness than I expected.

I pulled the address from my pocket.  “Coronado.”

I’ve heard it referred to as an island, but technically, it’s not.  Coronado is connected to California by a long, narrow strip of land from the south, known as the Silver Strand.  Silver Strand Boulevard is one of only two roadways that provide access to Coronado.  The other is a bridge linking the “almost island” to Harbor Drive.

Jason merged with the heavy traffic to cross the bridge.  I paged through his Thomas Guide until I found the street name printed on my little yellow sticky note.  I directed Jason to the house.

House is not the appropriate word to describe the structure.  Mansion would do it more justice. 
Brick of various shades of red, charcoal, and ash-white formed pillars that stood about fifteen feet apart and surrounded the grounds.
  Black wrought iron formed the fence that protected the estate from the common folks.  The perfectly-manicured lawn hadn’t a weed in sight.  Pink and white begonias lined the horseshoe shaped driveway that led to the manor.  The house was made of the same brick that formed the fence pillars.  Arches at the entryway boasted huge hanging pots of fuchsia, and fiery bougainvillea vines crept along the walls around the windows.

Jason pulled to the curb.  I spotted Dan Cooper’s car parked across the street.  I checked my watch
—
twenty past two.  “Don’t park here.  That’s Dan’s car.”  I pointed at the dark-blue sedan with the two FBI agents sitting inside.

Jason glanced at the car.  “So let’s go tell him about the message from Spencer.  That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“I will.  You know he’ll be mad as heck to see us here.  I want to check things out first.  Park over there,” I said, pointing ahead through the windshield.
  A city crew was busy pruning trees along the quiet street. 
“Behind that truck.”