Before She Dies (18 page)
The teasing light in his gaze vanished, leaving only menace. “I got a close eye and ear on my girl, Sooner, so don’t you worry none.”
“That was what you said about Mariah.”
“That girl was too damn boy crazy for her own good. I tried to protect her, but she never listened to good sense. Sooner’s not like Mariah. She’s like you. She’s smart.”
She stiffened. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Or what?” He leaned toward her. “Why don’t you just get back to your fancy life and leave us behind like you did before.”
“Sooner is a great kid. She
is
smart and can go far. But she’ll never see any of that here.”
is
smart and can go far. But she’ll never see any of that here.”
“She’s doing just fine. Fact, I suspect she’ll run this place one day.”
“Is that what you want for her?”
“Sure, why not? It’s a good gig and makes decent money.”
“There are better ways to earn a living.”
“Like being a bloodsucking attorney?” He laughed.
“Look, you did like I asked and got Sooner out of trouble. And I do appreciate it, but now you need to pull that pretty little nose of yours out of my business.”
She wasn’t a scared sixteen-year-old so afraid of the big tall, grizzled man her mother had brought home. “Or what?”
His hand shot out and he grabbed her arm in such a tight hard grip, his calloused palms would likely leave a bruise. “You’d be surprised what this old body can still do.”
She didn’t flinch or try to twist out of his hold. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should.”
So locked in their war of words, neither heard Detective Daniel Rokov approach. “There a problem here?”
Rokov had traded his suit for khakis, a dark polo, and a black leather jacket that covered all but the tip of his holstered sidearm. The dimming light had added some menace to Grady’s visage, but it completely transformed Rokov into a darker, more dangerous man. No traces of her passionate, tender lover remained.
Chapter 12
Friday, October 22, 6 p.m.
Grady released Charlotte’s arm and took a step back.
She flinched and rubbed the red flesh of her wrist. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
Rokov stared down at her, his gaze lingering and searching. “No, you did not. You were having an intense conversation with Grady.”
“How do you know his name?” And then she caught herself. “Of course, the article. He claimed Sooner could catch the killer.”
Grady sniffed and straightened his shoulders. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage. Mind making a formal introduction, Ms. Wellington?”
Her gaze remained on Rokov. “Grady Tate, this is Detective Daniel Rokov. He is a homicide detective with the Alexandria Police. I suspect he’s investigating Diane Young’s case.”
Rokov sized up the old man with a glance. Most underestimated the aging ringmaster as a threat, but Rokov seemed to understand that this old man could still do quite a bit of damage. “That was a bold statement you made in the paper.”
Grady grinned, flashing yellowed small teeth, no doubt realizing that Rokov was no sucker. His body language relaxed, he spoke guardedly. “Bold is what gets the job done.”
“Sometimes. And sometimes it creates a hell of a mess. Do you have information that could help the investigation?”
“Sorry, detective. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”
Rokov glanced at Charlotte. “What brings you here? This doesn’t strike me as your kind of place.”
“I came to see Sooner,” she said honestly. “I was worried about the article.”
“Kind of above and beyond for a pro bono client.”
Rokov’s height, six three or better, had her stretching every inch from her five-foot-six frame. In bed they were equals, but here he dominated. “The article caught my eye. It’s out of the norm, and I thought I’d visit.”
“No other agenda?” he challenged.
Amusement brightened Grady’s gaze. The old man clearly loved this collision of her well-crafted present and unsavory past.
“Such as?” she said.
Rokov flashed even white teeth. “You lawyering out of the answer, counselor?”
She was. And she planned to keep doing it. “Am I?”
Rokov’s amusement faded. “Did you know Diane Young?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. Why would you ask?”
“Just checking to see if you’re capable of a straight answer.” He swung his attention to Grady. “Did you know Diane Young?”
Grady’s pleasure draining away, he slid long fingers into his jeans pockets. “I did not.”
“We found a note to visit the carnival on her to-do list,” Rokov said.
Grady shrugged. “I’ll bet you’re gonna find that on a lot of to-do lists this week. We’re having a record year.”
“I don’t care about anybody’s list but Diane’s and the killer’s.”
“Like I said, that stuff in the paper about Sooner catching a killer was all hype, detective. I saw a chance to grab attention, and I took it.” Grady knew when to tell the truth.
Distaste sharpened the lines in Rokov’s face. “I’d like to talk to your employees and show them her picture. Maybe someone here might have seen her. I also want to talk to Sooner.”
Charlotte took a step back. “This conversation is clearly between you two, so I’ll leave.”
Rokov grabbed her elbow, his grip gentle steel. “A moment please, Ms. Wellington. I’d like to have a chat.”
A rebellious urge rose and died under Grady’s too curious gaze. “I really need to get going.”
“You can give me a minute or two.” Not a request but a statement. “Round up your men, Mr. Tate. I want to talk to them all.”
“I’m a couple of men down tonight. Everyone’s working full tilt.”
“I’m sure you can pull a few at a time. It would be regrettable to call the Health Department for an impromptu inspection.”
“We’re up to code.”
“So you’d like me to call the Health Department?” And Rokov was not a man who made idle threats.
Grady might be up to code, but health inspectors traipsing around food vendors drove off customers. “I’ll get Tiny and Buster off their rides first. They both got backups.”
“Great. I appreciate your help.”
When Grady was out of earshot, Rokov turned to Charlotte. “So what aren’t you telling me? And if you answer me with a question, I think I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
“I’ve told you everything that is germane to your case.”
“Which means you have not told me everything.”
“No, I have not. And I’m not going to. All you need to know is that I am here to check on Sooner.”
“Why did Grady have a death grip on your arm?”
“Ask him.”
He leaned close and she smelled hints of his soap mingling with his jacket’s worn, smooth leather. He lowered his voice to a hoarse rough whisper. “I’m asking you.”
She had outmaneuvered attorneys and CEOs in countless courtrooms and boardrooms. But here, right now, she sensed in Rokov a raw treacherous edge not easily escaped. If he took the gloves off, she might be hard pressed to win. “If it had a bearing on your case, I’d tell you. But it does not. Some things just have to stay private.”
“The more evasions you feed me, the more curious I become. And I am not a pleasant man when I have an unanswered question.”
“I guess you just have to deal.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Walk with me to Sooner’s tent.”
“Why?”
“Just humor me.”
She shook her head. “I’m not walking anywhere with you, detective. I’ve got a dinner date.”
His energy became deadly still. “Really?”
She swallowed. “With a client.”
Tension easing a fraction, he said, “The Samantha White case is behind you. You can take a little time.” He’d used the same argument when he’d coaxed her back to his bed Tuesday morning.
“I never say no to a client.” She caught sight of Grady, who moved toward them with two rough-looking carnies in tow. Rokov also saw them, and for a split second his attention shifted away from her.
Grabbing the opportunity, she pulled free and put distance between them. “Looks like your party is here. I’ll leave you to it.”
She suspected he could easily make a scene if that’s what it took. But her past was not his top priority ... now. It was Diane Young’s murder.
“This isn’t finished between us, Ms. Wellington. We’ll be talking soon.”
“Call my secretary. She’ll tell you if I have time.”
His grin telegraphed amusement and a very clear message:
I’ll find you when I’m ready.
I’ll find you when I’m ready.
Rokov watched Charlotte walk away, finding himself amused, frustrated, and most of all savoring the way she moved in the confines of her gray pencil skirt. She wasn’t a tall woman, maybe five-foot-six, but she had lean taut limbs, breasts that filled out her white blouse, and a thick leather belt that cinched a narrow waist. He thought back to Tuesday morning and the way she’d touched him. This week’s circumstances had severed their connection, but he’d get it back one way or the other.
A background check would tell him what she was hiding. But he didn’t want to dig. He wanted her trust.
Grady, flanked by two young men, offered a wolfish grin. “Detective, I’d like you to meet Tiny and Buster.” Tiny was indeed Tiny and couldn’t have been more than five feet. He had long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, wore a short-sleeved shirt that read
Danger
, torn faded jeans, and an endless flow of tattoos on his arms. Buster was taller but more muscular. He sported a blond crew cut, a swastika tattoo on his neck, and a buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into pressed jeans.
Danger
, torn faded jeans, and an endless flow of tattoos on his arms. Buster was taller but more muscular. He sported a blond crew cut, a swastika tattoo on his neck, and a buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into pressed jeans.
Tiny and Buster. What a pair.
Rokov reached in his pocket and pulled out his Department of Motor Vehicles picture of Diane Young. The color picture was taken several years ago. “Gentlemen, did either of you see this woman last week?”
Tiny and Buster looked at each other and then at Grady, who nodded his approval.
Buster took the picture and studied the picture closely. “I don’t remember her. We get so many people, she could have been here, and I just missed her.”
Tiny accepted the picture from Buster. “Pretty. Too bad about her. I wish I could say I saw her but I just don’t remember.”
Rokov took the picture back. “She was about five-foot-six, and her sister said she walked with a slight limp because she’d sprained her ankle a month ago.”
Grady, Buster, and Tiny shook their heads. If they’d seen Diane, he doubted they’d admit it. The carnies did not like any dealings with the cops even if it meant they could help.
“Want me to round up more men?” Grady said. “Can’t say you’ll get a different answer, but who knows, you might get lucky.”
“Go ahead and grab a few more men.”
“Could take a few minutes.”
“No rush. I’ll be at Sooner’s tent having a chat with her.”
“Why Sooner?” Grady’s tone turned defensive with a hint of menace.
“That a problem?”
“No.” Grady sniffed and waved away Tiny and Buster. “Just asking.”
“Then I’ll see you at her tent. And take your time.” Not lingering for a response, he moved through the crowds, kicking up dust along the way. When he reached her tent, she had a line of ten customers outside. He produced his badge and walked past the line into the tent.
The tent was dimly lit with electric lights that resembled candles. Sooner sat at a table draped in purple silk and before her sat a client—a young girl with blond hair and a cheerleader’s demeanor. Spread on the table were tarot cards arranged in the cardinal cross pattern. Oddly he recognized the cards. They were Russian and similar to the ones his grandmother kept tucked in the drawer by her bed.
Sooner looked up with expressive green eyes that were now heavily made up. The girl he’d seen at the courthouse had looked streetwise but young. This incarnation looked years beyond her age.
He held up his badge. “Sooner Tate?”
The sound of his voice had the cheerleader girl turning. Her face paled and her red lips parted into a surprised O.
Sooner couldn’t have been much older than the girl, but her world-weary expression suggested the experience of a much older woman. “Yes.”
“Ma’am,” Rokov said to the cheerleader. “If you will excuse us.”
The girl looked between Sooner and Rokov.
Sooner answered for her. “I have a few more minutes with my client. If you don’t mind.”
Young and ballsy. “Sure.”
When he didn’t move, she lifted a brow. “Do you mind stepping back? This is private.”
“Sure.”
He took a position in the back of the tent by the entrance. His hands clasped behind his back, he waited, not sure if he was amused or annoyed by the girl.
Sooner leaned toward the cheerleader and in hushed tones continued to whisper her reading. The cheerleader quickly forgot about him and leaned toward the cards as if they held the meaning of her life.
He watched Sooner, fascinated by the way she stroked the cards and turned each new one over with a dramatic flare. She waved her hands several times, making the bracelets on her arms clink with a dramatic effect. When she pronounced the reading done, the girl seemed satisfied and yet still hungry for more.
When the cheerleader asked for more information, Sooner shook her head and said, “Sadly our time is over and the cop in the corner has been patient enough.”
Cheerleader’s lips pouted but she rose, hugging her purse close. “Can I come back?”
Sooner rose. “Of course. I will be here for two more weeks. Come back anytime.”
“I will.” The girl hurried out of the tent.
Rokov moved toward Sooner. What was it about the girl that felt so familiar to him? He had an excellent memory for faces and names. They’d not met before, but still there was something.
He took the seat across from her, leaning back, relaxed as if he had all the time in the world and there was not a line outside. The heavy scent of incense hung around them, and he wondered if she ended up with a pounding headache by the end of the night.
“What can I do for you, detective?” she said. “Have you come for guidance from the stars in this latest murder investigation?”
“I’m not interested in your psychic talents but your powers of observation.” He pulled the DMV photo from his pocket. “Did you see her here?”
Sooner took the picture. She studied the picture, and a frown formed and deepened on her face. “This is the woman that was murdered.”
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