The Nosy Neighbor (11 page)

Lucy glanced at her reflection in the mirror hanging in the foyer. She smacked her lips and wiggled them to distribute her lipstick evenly. She did her best to feather her eyebrows with her pinkie finger, fluffed her hair, and smoothed down her skirt. A wasted minute. She opened the door, her expression cold and hostile as she motioned the agents inside. The dogs sniffed and growled, but they didn’t bark. They did follow her to the living room and took up positions at her feet, their eyes wary, their ears flat against their heads. Even Lulu’s perky pink bow seemed to wilt.

Her eyes still cold and angry, Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. In body language it meant, take your best shot, but you aren’t getting anything out of me because I don’t know anything. She waited, staring first at one agent, then the other, and on to the third. The same way she stared at prosecution witnesses in the courtroom. Most of the time it unnerved people.

And then her head started to buzz. She could feel a distinct ringing in her ears, too. The sound was the same as when her brother Steven turned on his electric razor. She cautioned herself not to panic as she took long, relaxing breaths. She was partially successful.
My anger or theirs?
she wondered.

Then it hit her in a jumble of thoughts. The Chinese fire drill was back but in low gear. She could have been in Madison Square Garden or Shea Stadium, listening to a hundred people all talking at once.
Concentrate,
she told herself.
Don’t think, make your mind blank. Listen.
It was hopeless, nothing was coming through, and she suddenly felt stupid because she didn’t know what her expression was giving away.

To calm her twanging nerves, Lucy stood up and walked behind the sofa, where she had a good look at all three agents from higher ground. She liked to stand when she interviewed witnesses or cross-examined them. Those seated were always at a disadvantage. The person standing was the power person. “Well?” she said coldly.

There it is,
she thought with elation.
Maybe changing position has something to do with it.
She felt like laughing out loud.
No prairie flower…she’s had time to think…hard as nails…no backup…classy skirt…cost more than I make in a month…she’s not going to cave…she looks like she knows something we don’t…. dogs…not killer dogs…not guard dogs…where’s the neighbor…I’m never going to get warm again…hit her hard…right between the eyes…no wiggle room…give her just enough rope…throw out a carrot…offer a deal…maybe she isn’t as dumb as she looks. I wish I was on some warm island somewhere.

Lucy started to tingle all over. She could hear them thinking, but she couldn’t pin down which thoughts belonged to whom. She waited, feeling almost giddy at what she was
hearing.

“How would you like to cut a deal, Miss Baker?” Agent Lawrence asked.

The chaotic transmissions—that was how she thought of what she was experiencing—suddenly stopped. She felt normal again. It might be a good time to throw all three of the agents for a loop. “I really am smarter than I look, Agent Lawrence. Throwing a carrot my way isn’t going to get me to tell you something I don’t know. You could toss me twenty miles of rope, and it isn’t going to make a difference. I’m a lawyer, and I know my rights. As a lawyer, I am always open to negotiations. What’s the deal?” she snapped.

Special Agent Connors reared back in her chair as Coop rose to his feet and growled. It pleased her that all three agents looked stunned. Why shouldn’t they? She’d just read their minds. In another minute they’d chalk it up to coincidence.

It wasn’t true what they said about male FBI agents being good-looking and manly, not to mention virile. Nor was it true about female FBI agents being beautiful the way they were portrayed in the movies. Agent Mason, who was packing twenty extra pounds around his middle, looked up at Lucy. “We want you to help us set a trap for your boyfriend.”

“And I would do so because…”

“You would do this because you are a responsible citizen and because we have you boxed into a corner. It’s the only way you’ll get off the hook.”
She’ll go for it, I know she will.

Lucy’s head was back in play again. Yahooo. Her voice rang with angry confidence when she said, “You really think I’ll go for a deal like that?” The agent looked at her, his eyes popping wide. “I’m off the hook anyway because I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t scare easy, Mr. Mason. The burden of proof is on you. I can account for my time, my money, my savings, and anything else you want accounted for during the last ten years, way before I ever met Jonathan St. Clair. You know it, and I know it. We both know you can turn this into a messy circus, but in the end I’ll come out whole. Now if you want my help, spell it out, put it in writing, and maybe we can deal. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Special Agent Connors stood up to move closer to the fire. She must have been the one who was thinking she’d never get warm again. “We’re prepared to consider it,” she said. Lulu ran over to where she was standing, sniffed her boots, and barked. “Shoo, go away,” Connors said, waving her hands. Lulu continued to sniff and snarl.

“We want you to tell us everything you know about Leo Banks, no matter how insignificant you may think it is. Start from the moment you met him.”

This is where she’ll trip herself up. She has no clue what we know and don’t know.
Lucy took a moment to puzzle over what she was feeling. The fire drill and Shea Stadium were gone. Her head was quiet, and her ears weren’t ringing. She was reading and hearing their minds. She was actually calm, shooting down everyone’s theory about anxiety and anger. “It’s not all that interesting, Agent Mason. If you’re hoping I’ll trip myself up, think again. Know Your Enemy 101. You’re probably thinking I have no clue as to what you know and don’t know. Just like you don’t know what I know and don’t know.” Lucy smiled. The FBI agent looked spooked. Good.

Special Agent Connors moved back to her chair, Lulu dogging her every step. The little dog positioned herself at her feet and stared up at the woman with bright eyes, defying her to move again. If she did, the fuzzy boots would go right out from under her. Terriers had a bad habit of sinking their teeth into something and never letting go. It looked to Lucy like Special Agent Connors knew all about terriers.

I hate dogs, especially little ones. This one looks like a rat dressed up for Halloween. Yuk.
Lucy almost laughed out loud. She should ignore Special Agent Connors’s thoughts, then thought otherwise. “I see you hate dogs, especially little dogs that look like rats dressed up for Halloween. Dogs know when people don’t like them. Did you know that?”

Special Agent Connors looked away, a strange look on her face.
Either I’m crazy, or she’s crazy, and she’s reading my mind.
She turned back to face Lucy, who was smiling. There was no way the lawyer was responding to this thought.

“Yes, I have heard that said about small dogs,” Special Agent Connors said. “When I was a child I was bitten rather badly. I’ve been afraid of dogs ever since,” she volunteered.

Lucy turned her attention to the two male agents, her eyebrows raised. She flipped her hand backward as though to say, let’s get on with it.

“Tell us about Leo Banks.”

“There’s nothing much to tell you. I met him about eighteen months ago on the tennis court. He liked me, I liked him. It worked for us because he understood my working eighty hours a week. He traveled constantly. I was lucky if I saw him once a month. He called regularly. He was always a gentleman with me. He was thoughtful, sent me gifts, said all the things a woman wants to hear. We got engaged, were going to get married last year but postponed it. We were supposed to get married in February. That isn’t going to happen now. I know nothing about his business except what he told me. He said he brokered business deals between different parties. He was the go-between. That is the sum total of what I know.” Lucy’s face was devoid of any kind of expression, but she felt alert and wary.

“Okay for now. Maybe something else will come to you later on,” Agent Lawrence said.

Agent Mason stood up and took his turn standing next to the fireplace. “Your boyfriend, Leo Banks, popped up on our radar screen two years ago while we were investigating another case that he was involved in. A key player so to speak. Until that time, he was
under
our radar screen. It’s not easy for our agents in third-world countries, as you can imagine. Since that time, we’ve been tracking him. I see no harm in telling you that the man is like a phoenix, he keeps rising out of the ashes. He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere. You can do that when you have the network he has. He also has a Gulfstream that ferries him around at a moment’s notice. Our people have to fly commercial. We managed to lose him quite a few times, and the bureau is not proud of that. We aren’t sure if he’s the main man or the main man’s right hand. It is what it is.

“Mr. Banks treads on thin ice sometimes. He’s as slick as they come, and one almost has to think he leads a charmed life. About six months ago he managed to swindle a Colombian drug dealer who was trying to put together a deal in Florida to gain some legitimacy and got away with his skin intact. We have the dealer in custody minus his money. He told us all he knows, which of his cronies pay Banks megamillions to set up legal businesses.” The agent fixed his gaze on Lucy, and said, “The man is a pro at laundering money. Now he’s on a hit list with the Colombians. That’s a serious hit list. One simply doesn’t screw around with those thugs.

“If scenarios like that aren’t enough to keep you awake at night, here’s another one. He killed one of his clients at point-blank range when the man refused to pay a higher percentage of the deal they were working on. Banks has a bad habit of agreeing to a deal and then, at the eleventh hour, raising the stakes. You’re probably wondering how we know this. The man took a long time to die, and he talked. Deathbed confessions are something we pay attention to. Then there was Adam Ligar. Banks killed him, too, but that was a long time ago. I have more stories like these two, but you look a little ill, Miss Baker, so I’ll save them for another time.”

Not only did Lucy look ill, she felt ill. My God, she was going to marry the man they were talking about. Lucy’s mind raced. “If you’re so convinced he’s doing what you say, why don’t you just arrest him? What are you waiting for?”

“The right moment. We need an airtight case. Going off half-cocked gets you nowhere. And the man never asked you to sign a prenuptial agreement?” Connors lifted her eyebrows to show what she thought of that question.

“No. We talked about it. Jonathan said nothing would sour a marriage like a prenup. I was surprised, but he said he waited this long in life to get married, and it would be for a lifetime, and he wanted to share. I don’t need his money. I had a career, I have my own portfolio, a pension fund, a stake in a lucrative law practice, and an inheritance from my parents. On my own, I could be comfortable for the rest of my life.”

All three agents stared at Lucy, knowing they would be working the rest of their lives until it was time to collect their retirement. Lucy thought she saw resentment in Special Agent Connors’s face.

Agent Lawrence chewed on his lower lip before he spoke. “Your fiancé is not a broker. A broker is a legitimate businessman. Leo Banks is a
facilitator.”
The term sounded obscene coming out of his mouth. “If someone wants something delivered or spirited out of the country, they call Leo Banks. Sometimes that
something
turns out to be a
person
or
persons.
Leo is known for getting the job done. In fact, Leo offers up a personal guarantee or he doesn’t take that robust seven-figure commission you mentioned. Being a lawyer, you should know the first rule is,
follow the money.
That’s what led us to you, Miss Baker. To our knowledge Banks has about fifteen different aliases with passports to match. He’s also a master at disguising himself. A little spirit gum, a little latex, different clothes, and he’s a different man. Three months ago he flew into Heathrow Airport dressed as a rabbi. Sad to say, we were a little slow to figure that out. Are you following me, Miss Baker?”

Lucy was following him all right, but she was more concerned at the moment with her head going quiet on her. Nothing was coming through. She wondered what would happen if she told them she could
hear
their thoughts. They were waiting for her to say something. She grappled in her mind for something to say. “You…you’re making Jonathan sound like…like James Bond, Hannibal Lecter, and Jack the Ripper.”

Agent Lawrence grimaced. “He’s got all the same hardware as Bond. Why does one man need six cigarette boats? Do you know anything about cigarette boats, Miss Baker?” Lucy shook her head.

“Let me bring you up to speed, then,” Agent Lawrence said. “They’re long and low, usually black-hulled. Very sleek. The low profile makes it almost impossible to pick them up on radar. Now, if the water conditions are right, and if the engine compartment is insulated properly and the exhausts baffled, it wouldn’t be detected by infrared sensors. Those babies can do eighty knots with no sweat. A boat like that can outrun anything on the water. It’s the boat of choice for drug runners and some arms runners, too. And you have six of them in your name.” Lucy started to feel sick to her stomach at the agent’s words.