Jingle of Coins (26 page)

Wazzle switched off the fluorescent desk lamp and swiveled around to face his furious employer. “We’ve checked every frequency on our scanner, and the only time it showed up was when we matched the exact range it uses to send the data to a recorder.” He shook his head in amazement. “Whoever designed this was brilliant. Nobody has anything like it on the market.”

“So what you’re telling me is that we have no way to keep the Feds from listening in.”

Wazzle fidgeted in his chair. “Not exactly. Now that we know how to check, we can find the bugs, but it will take a lot longer.”

“You sure this is from the Feds?”

“Yep. Nobody else has the money or the expertise to develop something like this. The good news is that I’ve seen the way the miniaturized circuits they used in this bug work, and I know for a fact that their transmitting range is less than a mile. Whatever recorder this bug was sending the data to has to be inside the property.”

“How big a recorder?”

“Probably about the size of a handheld tape player. Anything else would be too noticeable.”

“Have your men check her car first, then check everything in the house, but do it quietly. I don’t want my guests to suspect that we have a security leak. If there are any more of these devices, you better make damn sure you find them.” Mike leaned forward until he was inches from Wazzle’s nose. “I take it this won’t happen again?”

The security chief swallowed nervously. “No.”

“It better not. Be sure and let me know if you find anything.”

The security intercom buzzed as Mike turned to leave. “Security breach, security breach,” Stu announced. “One of the catering trucks is trying to leave the grounds unauthorized.”

Mike grabbed the console microphone. “Stop that vehicle,” he yelled. He and Wazzle rushed to the video surveillance room in time to watch the truck crash through the gate, then continue its journey.

Three cars roared down the driveway in pursuit, but before they could reach the street, a trio of SUVs rolled to a stop in front of the gate opening. Several men exited and stood together in a group, talking and gesturing at the gate pieces. Seconds later, two city police cars, sirens blaring, joined the fracas as Mike’s men screeched to a halt.

“The front gate’s blocked. Send someone out the back. Find that truck.”

“Already on it,” Stu replied. His voice crackled over the intercom as he barked out orders.

Mike grabbed Wazzle’s arm. “You handle the cops. Get rid of them, and do it quick. Don’t give them any information.” He glanced at the living room monitor. Several guests huddled near the front door, others peered through gaps in the curtains. “Shit. I’ll have to go downstairs and do some damage control. Let me know the minute the vehicle’s located.”

Mike waved his hand and shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he lied. “One of the waiters decided to take a couple of souvenirs. My men stopped him at the gate by shooting out a couple of tires. There’s nothing to worry about.” He spun around to face his guests. “Why don’t we all go out to the patio?”

Mike watched the man disappear at the top of the stairs, then grabbed a walkie-talkie. “Bring the limo to the front door. One of our guests is leaving.” He turned back to Hector. “The car will be outside in a few moments.”

“Is there another exit?”

“Yes. I’ll have the driver take you out the side entrance.”

An uneasy silence grew between the two men. “I’ll go check on the car,” Mike volunteered as he left the hallway and hurried to the security office.

Wazzle took one look at Mike’s clenched fists and inched further down the console. “Can’t. Stu said she died a couple of minutes after she stopped at some apartment complex.”

“Did he say if he found anything?”

“No.”

“Get him on the phone. Tell him to get back here. Now.” Mike paused at the window for a moment, then spun around and left. Hector’s bodyguards had already checked the limo when he returned downstairs. “Where do you want to go?” he asked as he joined Hector on the driveway.

“I’ll give the driver directions once we’re on the freeway,” Hector replied. He climbed into the vehicle, then rolled down the window and stared at Mike for a few moments, eyes narrowed. “Make sure there are no more problems,” he advised. “I’ll meet you on Wednesday, provided there aren’t any additional security issues.”

“There won’t be.” Mike promised as he closed the door. He watched the limo disappear around the side of the garage, then stomped into the house.

“Took you long enough,” Mike growled as Stu entered his office. “Did you find it?”

“No, but neither did the Feds,” Stu replied. “They’re still looking.” He pulled his chair closer to Mike’s desk. “Is it okay to talk?”

“Yeah. Wazzle rechecked the office. It’s clear. I was right; the bug was from the Feds. Fucking bastards.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Well?”

“No.” Stu rubbed the side of his cheek with his knuckle, then glanced toward his boss. “I did see something I think you ought to know. The florist who made the arrangements is Kate’s next-door neighbor.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s the next door neighbor? You sure?”

Stu nodded. “Yeah. She came out to talk to the cops, and I recognized her. The cops grilled her pretty good, but she stuck to her story.”

Mike rose from his chair and walked over to the window. “Go back to the complex. Wait until everything quiets down, then go through both apartments—Kate’s and the neighbor’s. The Feds better not find that tape.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Cassette tape. Wazzle says it’s probably fits in one of those handheld recorders.” Mike grabbed Stu’s arm as he left. “Find that tape. If you don’t, pay the florist bitch a visit. Maybe she knows more than she told the cops.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You better. I’m holding you responsible for the truck getting away,” Mike informed him. He picked up the phone as Stu left and punched in a number.

Mike disconnected the call and leaned back to consider his options. Tonight had been a fiasco, but he was sure he’d find the tape before the Feds did. If Kate hadn’t had it on her when she died, then it must still be at the villa. He wondered if the neighbor was in on the deal, then decided that it didn’t matter. She was as good as dead already, because once Stegas got done with her, the desert birds would be picking the meat off her bones.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The beep, beep, beep of an alarm woke Emily from a deep sleep. Out of habit, she reached across the bed to shut it off, then bolted upright when her wrist banged against the edge of the nightstand. Memories of the preceding night flooded her brain, and she allowed herself the luxury of burying her face in the pillow and wishing that it had all been part of some grotesque dream. Unfortunately it hadn’t. Kate was still dead, and she’d spent the night in Glen’s apartment because her front entryway was covered in Kate’s blood.

The sound of a door closing told her Glen was awake. It was time to get out of bed. She entered the living room as he returned with a morning paper. “Morning.”

“Please.” She sat down and scanned the headline section front to back. “I thought for sure Kate’s death would make the headlines. It’s not even listed on the back of the front section.”

“It’s probably buried in another part of the paper. I guess the details weren’t gory enough to make the front page.” He sipped his coffee and stared at her for a moment. “You know, the fact that it didn’t make the headlines might be a blessing in disguise. The last thing we need right now is a bunch of television and newspaper people hanging around.”

She nearly dropped her cup. “You cold hearted bastard. How can you even think about slot machines? For God’s sakes, Glen, someone we both know was murdered in our own complex. What’s wrong with you?”

He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, Emily. I liked Kate. But she would be the first to tell you that life goes on.” He covered her fingers with his. “Besides, there’s every chance that her death might have been the result of what she did for a living.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s for the cops to figure out, not us. Our part’s over.” He patted her hand, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “How about some breakfast? I still have a little time before I leave.”

She shook her head. “Let’s wait and see what happens. I appreciate your offer, but I’d feel better staying in my own apartment. No offense.” She flashed him a grateful smile, picked up her keys, and let herself out.

For once she was glad of the eerie stillness that blanketed the complex in the early morning hours. No one badgered her for gory details about Kate’s death as she walked the short distance to her apartment. Grateful for the reprieve, Emily paused outside the crime scene tape and stared at the dried blood. The dark stain was even larger in the daylight. Depression hovered above her like a thundercloud, and she took comfort in the fact that at least Kate hadn’t died alone. She sighed softly and moved toward the door.

It took a few moments for her brain to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Her hands shook and her keys slipped to the ground when she realized that someone had forced the door open. She lifted a shaky arm to push the door inward.

The apartment was in shambles. Furniture was overturned, cushions were ripped open, and nothing remained on the walls. Her stomach roiled; she raced outside to throw up, retching until nothing else would come up. Once her knees stopped shaking, she crept back into the living room and dialed Glen’s number. “Glen, it’s Emily. Someone’s broken into my apartment.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You’re going to stay with me until we get this figured out. Did you think to call your boss?”

“Oh my God, I forgot. I’ll be right back.” She dashed into the apartment. When she returned, the police still hadn’t arrived.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to touch anything.”

“I’ve already used the phone twice; one more call wasn’t going to make any difference. Besides, my fingerprints are already on the phone.”