White Offerings (8 page)

The silence drove Ari into action, fostered by her good manners and the refined conversation skills that came from years in real estate. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Biz Stone. I believe we’re both here to meet Jane.” Instead of her hand, Biz reached into her back pocket and offered her a business card.

Ari read the simple black print,
Elizabeth Stone, Private Investigator
, a local phone number listed beneath her name. “Biz,” she repeated. “That’s a very unique nickname.”

She smiled pleasantly and studied the silverware. “And a long story.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone asks me that question, but I only tell the story to people who earn my trust, and considering we’ve just met . . .” Her voice faded out, Biz apparently not feeling the need or interest to complete an obvious thought.

“Of course.”

“I’ve seen you at Hideaway, and I know Molly, too,” she added quickly.

Ari nodded in recognition. She’d just never put Biz’s name together with the face, but she was always surrounded by several voluptuous femmes at the bar. “Yes, I knew you looked familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.”

“No, we’ve never met officially, but I’ve seen you. You’re not easy to forget.”

The comment surprised Ari, but before she could respond, Jane waltzed up to the table. “Hello, hello.” She immediately proffered her hand to Biz, who stood to meet her new client. “You must be Biz. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I doubt most of it is true.”

“Are you kidding? I looked you up on the Internet. You’re amazing.” She took the chair next to Ari and kissed her on the cheek. “Ari, darling, you do know we are in the presence of greatness. Biz is the premier PI in the women’s community. She’s only twenty-six, but she’s helped so many sisters by working for free with the domestic violence shelters. She helps build cases against the SOBs who beat their wives, and the partners who steal from each other.” Jane pointed at Biz. “You’re a legend. Don’t deny it, and I can’t believe you’re going to help me.”

Biz only nodded and sat down again, clearly uncomfortable with Jane’s glowing version of her biography. Jane’s gushing ended when Ari’s favorite waiter came by and took their order. Ari watched Biz absently rake her hand through her hair while she studied the menu and made her selection. A noise from another table caught her attention, and her eyes quickly flickered over her shoulder. She was aware of her surroundings, never allowing a single picture to dominate her full attention. As a private detective, she no doubt couldn’t afford to miss anything. Suddenly Biz’s gaze shot toward her, and she blinked in surprise. She’d been caught, and judging from the slow smile that spread across Biz’s face, she was sure that Biz had noticed her staring the whole time.

When the waiter left, Jane recounted the details of the orchids and the floral shop odyssey from the day before. “I still think it’s a man, but Ari thinks it’s a woman,” Jane said. “What’s your opinion?”

Biz looked away toward the bar. “Either of you could be right about the sex, but I don’t think this is a random person who’s targeting you. That would be highly unlikely.”

Jane grabbed a breadstick and began breaking it into fourths on her plate. “So you think my stalker is someone I know.”

“Don’t you think
stalker
is a bit over the top?” Ari interjected. “You’ve gotten flowers. It could be someone who really likes you, not someone who wants to harm you.”

“You’re probably right, Ari,” Biz agreed. “But stalkers are dangerous in their own way because they can become angry if they don’t believe their feelings are being returned.”

“Exactly,” Jane said. “That’s why I’m hoping you can sift through my acquaintances and narrow down the suspects.”

Ari snorted loudly. “And how long are you hiring her for? The rest of your life?” Jane scowled and smacked Ari’s shoulder. “Sorry, Jane.” Ari turned to Biz to explain. “It’s just that Jane knows so many people.”

“In the carnal way,” Jane said. “You can just say it, honey. Biz knows all about my history with women, and she knows her job won’t be easy. Personally I still think it’s a guy, but if it’s a woman, then I think Isabel is the one sending them.”

Ari nodded at the possibility and looked at Biz, who had removed a notepad and pen from her leather messenger bag. Her hands were nicely sculpted, and Ari quickly noticed she wore no ring.
That doesn’t mean anything
, she thought.
And why do you care?

Jane’s cell phone chirped, and Ari and Biz listened as she attempted to answer questions for a mortgage banker over the din of the noisy restaurant. Realizing that she was screaming into the phone, she stood up and headed for the exit.

Ari wiped her palms on her pants and turned to face Biz, who continued to stare. “So, Jane says you’re a real estate agent, too.”

“Yes, but we don’t work for the same company. I work for Southwest.”

“Oh, you work for Lorraine.”

Ari could tell by the way Biz said Lorraine’s name that she approved of her. “She’s a great lady.”

“The best,” Biz agreed. “I did some work for her a few years ago. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with that much energy. That woman is totally Type A.”

They both laughed and continued to smile, even after the small talk had evaporated. Biz leaned back and glanced around the restaurant. She was working, scanning the faces, looking for anyone who was watching Jane as she paced outside in front of the bay windows, obliviously chatting on her phone. Ari realized that unlike Biz, Jane was totally unaware of anything around her. Someone could come up behind her with a butcher knife and she wouldn’t know it. There was no denying she was gorgeous—to men
and
women. Even the gay men who walked past her into Smiley’s nodded approvingly at her shapely tailored suit and curvaceous figure.

“I guess she’s really not my type,” Biz said.

“And what is
your
type?” The words spilled from Ari’s lips without any thought. She couldn’t believe she’d uttered them. Biz would think she was flirting. There was no other way to take the comment, and her face flushed. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.” She looked away, but she knew Biz was studying her, just as she had done with every other patron in the restaurant.

“At one point I thought
Jane
was my type, but apparently she doesn’t remember our evening together.”

“You and Jane?” Ari shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Jane’s reputation, but she couldn’t believe Jane would have forgotten someone like Biz.

Biz held up her hand. “It was a moment of weakness back in August. Even if Jane doesn’t remember it, I do. I was drowning my sorrows at Hideaway after an important client dropped me and refused to pay my fee. Jane was two stools down and started buying me gin and tonics. That’s how the evening began. Within an hour I’d forgotten my troubles and she took me home.” She leaned close, as if she was going to whisper a secret. “She is incredibly charming, don’t you think?”

Ari could only nod, amazed that Biz remembered so many details from a single encounter that occurred a few months before. The waiter brought their plates and she immediately dove into her Caesar salad, grateful for the opportunity to do something with her mouth other than flap her jaws and embarrass herself in front of Biz. Only when Jane returned did she dare to speak, and then only when Jane asked her a question or wanted her to verify that she was telling Biz everything she needed to know.

At last their meal concluded and the bill was paid. They walked out together and stopped in front of Biz’s antique, red Mustang. Ari didn’t know much about cars, but she thought it was called a Shelby, and she knew those were incredibly expensive. Biz handed Jane a business card. “Call me if you think of anything. I’ll see if there are any other florists to check out, and I’ll probably tail you tonight when you’re on your date with Isabel.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “At least I convinced her to let me meet her at Vincent’s.”

“That was smart of you,” Biz said. “With everything going on, you don’t need that woman going to your house.”

Ari’s attention was drawn to the roar of an engine starting in the back lot. A red Dodge Viper whipped out of the parking spot, veering just close enough for her to catch a glimpse of the driver, whose long strawberry-blond hair tumbled around her face. She wore dark sunglasses, but Ari was rather sure it was Aspen Harper.

“Jane, look over there.” Jane and Biz dropped their conversation and watched the Viper pull toward the exit. “Isn’t that Aspen’s car?”

“It could be. That’s what she drives.”

“I got a pretty good look at the driver, and I think it was her.”

“Aspen Harper? That’s one of the names you gave me, right?”

“Yes, she’s one of my clients, but I doubt she’s the stalker.”

Biz raised an eyebrow. “Why would you say that? At this point most everyone you know is a suspect. Did either of you notice her inside?” They both shook their heads and Biz looked around. Together they walked to where the Viper had parked and studied the area. Ari noticed that only two doors faced them, a back door into Smiley’s and the entrance to a men’s gym. “That’s the only other tenant on the property, so either she’s pumping iron in a testosterone joint, or she left Smiley’s by the back door, which normally isn’t for customers.”

“Maybe we should go check it out,” Jane said.

“No,” Biz disagreed. “That’s why you’ve hired me. I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes, but when I’m done, I’ll come back here and get some answers.”

They walked back to the pristine Mustang and Biz slid inside. Ari noticed that Biz fit in the car the way a fabulous dress clung perfectly to a svelte body or the right perfume smelled magnificent on the shoulders of a beautiful woman. Before she put the car in reverse, she gazed at Ari and then sped out of the lot, looking as cool as she really was.

Sunday, October 15th

5:25 PM

Oaxaca’s was nearly deserted when Molly, Andre and Rasp claimed three stools at the bar. The décor was predictable and simple—a stucco interior painted in Southwestern earth tones. Worn black vinyl booths lined the walls, and sombreros and colorful Mexican flowers adorned the entryway. Strains of mariachi music echoed throughout the three dining rooms and bar area, as if to scream authenticity. Diners often shouted to be heard, but the regulars, many of whom were Phoenix police officers, didn’t seem to care.

It was the city’s cop hangout and memorabilia from the last fifty years decorated the place. In the lobby was a wall honoring the fallen brethren, and police officers would bring in framed photos of their friends receiving citations for display over the semicircular booths. Next to Hideaway, Molly felt most at home at Oaxaca, as it defined the other side of her personality—cop. She was well-known as a good tipper, and Miguel, the bartender, had her Scotch ready before she sat down.

“I take it you’re a regular here?” Rasp asked.

“She buys Miguel a Christmas present,” Andre said.

Molly glared at him, not wanting Rasp to think she spent her life in bars, which was only a step away from the truth. “All the cops come here, not just me. Right, Miguel?” The bartender nodded at them and took their order. She fired another glare at Andre, who looked down at his shoes.

Miguel brought Andre and Rasp’s drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa for them to share. As usual, no one felt the need to plunge into polite conversation until the somberness of the day washed over them. The investigation had stalled with Itchy’s death. Molly couldn’t stop blaming herself, and at one point during the afternoon, Rasp had leaned over and squeezed her shoulder—an innocent gesture that sent a surge of electricity through her body. She’d shown no emotion and a vision of Ari in a teddy instantly squashed her libido. She was committed to Ari, and now she was feeling a little guilty about sitting in a bar with her partner and an attractive FBI agent rather than accompanying her girlfriend to their regularly scheduled Sunday afternoon activity, a movie at the Orpheum Theater. She knew Ari would understand and would tell her not to feel guilty because she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body. Eventually Molly was sure that Ari would meet Rasp, and she would probably recognize the sexual energy between them—and she’d laugh. It had happened before, and she couldn’t understand it. How could Ari be so secure in their relationship while she was a wreck?

“Where do we go from here?” Andre posed the question she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want Rasp to think she couldn’t formulate a game plan. She was, after all, the ranking detective and Andre’s superior. Yet she wasn’t sure what they could do to make another connection to Vince Carnotti. She knew Rasp would return to New York if none of the leads in Arizona panned out, and Molly found herself thinking harder to avoid that outcome.

Rasp swirled her Chardonnay. “We don’t have a lot. The weapon is missing.”

“No surprise there,” Molly said. “It’s probably at the bottom of Tempe Town Lake. Whoever killed Itchy is a pro. He’s not going to make mistakes. I’ll bet there weren’t any prints on the car either.”

Rasp shook her head. “Nope. And we checked out that bus pass that belonged to LaDonna Jones. That’s another dead end. She’s a postal employee who works downtown and lost it a few weeks ago.”