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Authors: Mary Ann Mitchell

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BOOK: The Taxman Killeth
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Todd pulled her closer and
buried his face in the warmth of her neck, sensing the throbbing of her pulse
and the sensual smell of her perfume. He nipped her earlobe and let his tongue
taste the contrast of the tiny diamond earring against her softer skin. Hard,
impenetrable stone against yielding flesh. How like himself, in contrast to
her, he thought, while exploring further into the convolutions of her ear. He
heard her murmur a sound. Not a word, but a simple sigh of longing. Todd began
covering her face with kisses, speeding up his journey to her luscious mouth.
His tongue slipped between her lips and felt her teeth rake gently across his
sensitive taste buds. The sweetness of the nectar she had had with the meal
still lingered and inspired a deeper plunge inside the walls of her mouth. Her
hand had moved up through his hair and pulled him closer. She wanted him to
enter deep and fast, he knew. His own hands worked her clothes, opening
buttons, popping those that would not undo quickly enough. A need to reach the
ripeness of her breasts and the silky wetness of her arose in him.

With most of her clothes
discarded, Amy lay back on the couch and savored Todd’s weight. She could feel
the hardness of him push rhythmically against her mound, prevented from
entering by the thin silken cover of her bikini and the rough denim of his
jeans. His hand was under her bra, teasing her nipple to a tight taut erection.
Amy raised herself and reached around to undo her bra, allowing him to push the
material up over her full breasts. As he pulled her bra off his tongue slid
down her throat to her breasts and rounded the pinkish brown tips.

The telephone rang, jolting Todd’s
mind back to the dangers that hovered over this match. He pulled away from her.

“Answer it,” he demanded.

Confused, Amy obeyed.

“Hello?”

“Is Todd there?”

Amy froze. Her eyes were wide,
and she held the phone out to Todd. He took it and listened until the voice
repeated,

“Is Todd there?” The voice was
hoarse, obviously disguised, Todd knew. He cradled the receiver.

“Get your clothes on.” His tone
was harsh, steely.

“But maybe it was a wrong
number.”

“Get your clothes on,” he
repeated.

Five minutes later, Todd was
jamming his things back into his canvas satchel.

“We don’t know for sure that the
call had anything to do with Joey’s murder.” Amy was pleading.

Todd checked his gun, then
tucked it into the back of his waistband.

“Speak to me, Todd.” Tears were
streaking her cheeks.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to make
sure you’re all right.”

“What about you?”

He pulled on his leather jacket.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. You don’t even
know who to look for, and everyone else has disowned you.”

“It’s time you did the same.”

Todd pulled the brim of the
Stetson low over his brow.

God, he was so handsome, she thought,
and so vulnerable out there.

“If whoever called already knows
you’re here, won’t this be the place he’ll come?”

“I think it’s someone who knows
me personally, Amy. If I’m right, he knows I won’t stay here.”

“But Stu—”

“Forget that damn lawyer. The
police have never showed up at the firm, have they?” She shook her head. “I
think this is more personal than a shyster lawyer. The way Joey died was not
quick. It was meant to torment and destroy Joey’s survivor. That’s me. Joey had
no one else.”

“Then you suspect someone.”

“No. Working at that law firm
and Joey’s death may have no connection.”

“But you don’t know that for
sure.”

“I know that the longer I stay
here, the more danger I put you in.”

Todd lifted his satchel and
headed for the apartment door. Amy tried to kiss him, but his lips were cold as
marble. All passion had withered.

“Forget what happened between
us, Amy.”

She shook her head and tried to
reach out to stop him, but he pushed her away and left.

Amy cried until the tears burned
her eyes, then magically she fell asleep on the bed.

The next day she woke more
determined to help him. Pickens had to know something about the case, and he
was going to be her prime target until evening, when she would switch gears and
try to pump Stu for information. Unfortunately, she had not recognized the
voice over the phone. It was gritty and muffled. The person had probably
covered the handset with cloth.

She managed to get into work
before Pickens, who was surprised to see her already seated inside the
conference room.

“Well, I’m glad you’re showing
some responsibility, for a change. I usually have to grope around for a while
before you come in.”

“Todd Coleman didn’t need as
much assistance as you do. Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking
about.”

“The man that replaced you for a
day.”

“I told you I was sick.” She
could see that he was uneasy. He dropped several pencils and almost let his
glasses slide off his nose while picking them up.

If she couldn’t get anywhere
with him, maybe Todd could. Amy resolved to obtain his address before the day
was over.

By noon, Amy had managed to
cause so much confusion with the ledgers and loose papers that Pickens was in a
quandary about what to do next.

“Here, let me help you,” she
said, pushing the completed forms onto the floor.

“Stop helping me. Go find
someone else to bother.”

“We’re not supposed to take any
material out of the office but... Would it help if I brought a few things over
to your home this evening?”

“You at my house?”

“Why not?”

Pickens sputtered.

“You can’t live too far away.”

“Far enough.”

“Far enough for what?”

“Far enough that you couldn’t
come. I mean, it would...”

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t
mind.”

“My, er..., roommate doesn’t
like company.”

“But I won’t be company...”

“Why would you want to come to
my house?” Pickens’ eyes peered over the wire rim of his glasses.

“Because I feel I’ve slowed you
down today and perhaps you’d like to catch up in the evening.”

“Don’t you have anything better to
do after work?”

“Like you, my life is my work.”

Pickens snorted.

“Even I have a life beyond the
job, Ms Simpson, and I
do
care about my work.”

The emphasis on the “do” annoyed
Amy but she persisted.

“I bet you even work on the
train into the city.”

“As a matter of fact, I drive.”

“Can’t reach the BART?”

“I choose not to use it.”

Amy had already checked the
telephone books and found no Albert Pickens listed. She thought about
attempting to pick his pocket for his wallet, when Teddy popped his head into
the room.

“Could you give me a lift to Berkeley
this evening?”

Without moving his head, Pickens
threw Amy a side glance, and she offered a smile in return.

“Yes,” Pickens grumbled.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll leave you
to your work now.”

“Ms. Simpson,” Pickens raised
his head and pulled himself closer to her. “I live in Berkeley with a jealous
woman. Find someone else to pester.”

Amy’s cheeks flushed. My God,
did he think she had the hots for him? Pickens cocked a brow, and his lips
spread to show his yellow teeth. Forget Alice’s rabbit, she thought, he looks
more like Mephistopheles. Amy moved to the door and quickly exited in hopes of
tracking down Teddy.

As it turned out, Teddy did know
where Pickens lived; not the exact address, but the block on which he lived. Although
it took quite a convoluted conversation to get the information out of the
paralegal. He finally blurted out a street where he and the accountant had run
into each other one weekend, or rather where Pickens almost had run over him on
the way out of his driveway.

Elated, Amy went back to her
office to note the area in her calendar book. However, she had a letdown when
she searched for Stu. He had already left for the day and had taken a stack of
papers with him, swearing that someone had broken into his office.

“He claims he locked the door
before he left a couple of nights ago, and when he came in yesterday morning
the door was shut but unlocked,” said his secretary, Sara.

“Why didn’t he mention it
yesterday?”

“He did, but only to the senior
partners.”

Amy sighed. She supposed he now
had tucked away any evidence in a concealed place at home. But she already knew
where he lived from the last Christmas party, when Trudy had gone home with
him.

 

 

 

Chapter 11

A Visit To Pickens

 

Amy paced the floor of her
apartment waiting for the telephone to ring. She nibbled on a stale bagel
slathered with chive cream cheese. She hadn’t bothered to stop at the grocery
for food, because she didn’t want to miss Todd’s call. Wouldn’t he be surprised
at the information she had come up with? The two of them could go to Berkeley
this evening and question Pickles. Amy was sure that Todd’s size and demeanor
could make Pickles more amenable to sharing what he knew.

But Todd didn’t call until she
had finished two bagels and all but emptied the cream cheese container.

“Thank goodness, I was afraid we’d
have to go to Berkeley in the middle of the night, and you know I can’t afford
all this lost sleep.”

“What are you talking about? Has
someone called you again?’

“No. But I have Pickles’
address. At least sort of.”

“So what?”

“You and I can go over there and
question him. It can’t be too hard to find his house. Teddy said...”

“Who’s Teddy?”

“He’s the paralegal at work. I
couldn’t get Pickles to divulge his own address, but when I heard Teddy ask for
a lift, I assumed he must have an idea where Pickles lives, so I asked him, in
a roundabout way.”

“What the hell are you doing,
Amy? Announcing to the world that you’re involved with me?”

She was surprised how much she
liked the ring of what he had said, even if he didn’t mean it the way she
wanted.

“It makes sense, Todd. You took
Pickles’ place. He knew enough not to show up. Therefore, he must have been
told by someone at work to stay home. If we can find out who it was...”

“Then what?”

“Maybe we can force them to
corroborate your story.”

“Amy, I don’t want you running
around making it obvious that you’re gathering information for me.”

“No, no. Pickles doesn’t suspect
a thing. He thinks I...” The absurdity of what he thought couldn’t break through
her lips. “Anyway, he doesn’t surmise that there’s any link between the two of
us.”

“How can you be sure? And what
about Teddy?”

“He keeps his own personal
business to himself and doesn’t ask questions of other people.”

“Just the type to put two and
two together.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“What are you talking about?
Where does Pickles live?”

She gave him the names of the
cross streets.

“Maybe I will drop in on him,
but you’ll stay put.”

“But you need my help.”

“Amy, you say he doesn’t know
you’re involved with me, right?”

There were the words that made
her tingle.

“Yes.”

“If you show up with me, what
will he think then?”

“That I’m... Okay, so I’ll hide
in a bush or something.”

“I have enough problems keeping
a low profile alone, Amy; I don’t need you trailing along.”

“You mean I could endanger you?”

“Yes.”

“Call me after you’ve spoken to
him?”

Todd didn’t believe she was in
any danger on her own. Only contact with him could bring trouble.

“It’s not a good idea for me to
keep calling.”

“But I gave you the lead. It’s
only fair that I know the outcome.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

“No, no. Tonight.”

“It might be late.”

“I don’t care.”

Todd grudgingly agreed and hung
up the receiver, wondering why he even called at all. She was better off the
less she knew, except that she insisted on prying deeper and deeper into the
mystery.

When Todd reached the block on
which Pickens lived it was not difficult to find his house. He recognized the
man immediately from Amy’s description. Pickens was watering the front lawn,
but Todd waited until the accountant went back inside the house before he
approached.

He set off a set of chimes when
he pushed the lighted button next to the front door. Seconds later a tall,
voluptuous blonde answered. Her leopard-print skin-tight pants matched the
low-cut halter top which barely covered the meaty breasts. The woman’s long,
teased hair fell across one eye. She made no attempt to push it back. Instead
she licked her lips and spoke.

“Hi.”

At first, it was hard to find
the appropriate words. Then he remembered why he was there.

“Albert Pickens in?”

She nodded her head and
continued to stand on her spike heels.

“Could I see him?”

“Are you sure it’s him you want
to see?” she said, checking out the folds in his jeans.

He wasn’t at all sure, until he
heard a man’s voice ask who was at the door. At that point the blonde moved
aside and invited Todd in.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Pickens
asked.

“Could we speak alone?”

“I don’t know who you are.”

Todd indicated that he was
associated with the law firm for which Amy worked.

“Did that Ms Simpson send you
here? Edwina, go watch the souffle while I get rid of this man.”

Todd watched Edwina swivel her
hips down the hall until she turned into an open doorway and disappeared.

BOOK: The Taxman Killeth
12.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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