Cold Case Cop (6 page)

The front doorbell buzzed and Tara grabbed her purse. No doubt the real Mrs. Freedman had arrived.

Mr. Robinson looked at the monitor behind his desk. He frowned. “Now that’s unusual.”

She rose, glancing around to see if there was a back door. There wasn’t.

He buzzed the door open. “Sorry for this interruption, Mrs. Freedman.”

Damn. “No trouble at all.”

Mr. Robinson came around the desk, his spine as stiff as a plank. “Detective Kirkland.”

“Mr. Robinson.” Kirkland’s smooth voice sent tingles up Tara’s spine. Double damn.

“I am currently with a client, Detective,” Mr. Robinson said.

“This won’t take a minute,” Kirkland said.

Tara was stuck. There was no getting out of this jam. So she turned and smiled brightly at Kirkland.

Surprise flickered in Kirkland’s ice-blue eyes for only an instant before he flashed even white teeth. “I believe we have met before.”

Tara raised her chin. “Have we?”

Mr. Robinson cleared his throat. “Detective, this is Mrs. Eloise Freedman.”

Kirkland shook his head. “Actually, Mr. Robinson, this is Tara Mackey. She’s a reporter for the
Globe
.”

Tara let out a sigh. Leave it to Kirkland to be the Boy Scout.

Robinson grimaced with disgust. “You lied to me.”

Tara shrugged. “You made the assumption I was Mrs. Freedman. I played along.”

Robinson frowned. “I must ask you to leave my store immediately, Ms. Mackey.”

“I just have a few questions about the Landover diamonds.”

Mr. Robinson moved toward the door and opened it. “Ms. Mackey, we do not speak to the press. Robinson’s has a very elite clientele and most do not want the publicity.”

“You were happy to gossip about the Landovers before.”

Robinson’s face turned red. “That’s when I thought you were one of us.”

One of us. Again, she was on the outside looking in. She glanced at Kirkland. “Come on, tell Mr. Robinson that I’m okay. If someone says off the record, I honor it.”

Kirkland shook his head. “I can vouch for that, Mr. Robinson.”

“Ms. Mackey, I don’t talk to any press. Period,” Robinson said. “Leave, or I will have the detective call a squad car.”

She shot Kirkland a glare.

He shrugged. “This is a job for the police, not the press.”

She stepped out onto the curb and Robinson closed the door in her face.

Alex had to give Tara credit. The woman had nerve. He wasn’t sure how she’d wormed her way into the exclusive shop, but somehow she’d managed it. He pulled out his notebook. This investigation wasn’t a game.

Robinson straightened his tie. “I am sorry about that. I assumed her name was Freedman because the real Mrs. Freedman had an appointment.”

“Don’t feel too bad. She’s a smart reporter. You’re not the first one she’s fooled.” He flipped through the pages of his notebook. “I have a few questions about Kit Landover.”

He sighed, as if already weary about the topic. “I’ll tell you what I told that woman. The diamonds have not surfaced.”

“None of your sources have gotten back to you? Including the less-than-reputable ones?”

“None.”

Kirkland met the jeweler’s gaze. “You wouldn’t hold back on me, would you Mr. Robinson? I’d hate for it to get out that you did time for fencing.”

Mr. Robinson cleared his throat. “That was a long time ago and you know it. I’ve been clean for ten years.”

“Come on, Lenny,” Kirkland said, using Robinson’s real name. “This business was built on profits from your former crimes. A diamond like the Landover one would be a very sweet coup. They could make a guy like you very rich.”

The jeweler dropped the pretense of a refined jeweler. “Look,” he said in a rougher voice. “I ain’t seen the diamonds. And, like I told that reporter, the stones were marked and are easy too track. Too much trouble to handle even for me.”

“Who else knew the diamonds were marked?”

“We have been through all this a year ago.” Robinson reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Just Landover knew about the marks.”

“And you.”

“I marked ’em.”

“Did Kit know?”

“Not unless Mr. Landover told her, because I sure didn’t.”

“When’s the last time you saw the jewels?”

“The last I saw them was the day I brought them to the Landover estate for the wedding. I’d cleaned them, as Mr. Landover asked the day before. And he had a security guard on me the whole time. Anyway, once they were clean, I brought them straight to Kit.”

“Okay. Keep me updated if anything changes.”

Robinson took a drag. “Will do.”

Kirkland left the shop and found Mackey leaning against his car, her arms folded over her chest. She was wearing a black suit today, with a crisp white shirt and her hair up. He realized he preferred her hair down. Still, even dressed in this uniform she looked sexy as hell.

“That was cold,” she said, pushing away from the car.

He moved around his car to the driver’s side. “What, blowing your lie?”

“If the situation were reversed, I’d have played along.”

“I did play along last night.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “We’re talking about business.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Drop this case, Mackey.” He unlocked the door. A gust of wind caught her perfume, and again he was treated to the very feminine scent.

“If anything, your renewed interest has really sparked my curiosity. You’re not one to waste time on a case that’s unsolvable.”

“This case might very well go unsolved unless someone involved in Kit’s murder makes a mistake.”

She lifted a brow. “We keep assuming that someone killed Kit. What if she wanted to disappear?”

“You’re forgetting the blood found in Landover’s backyard. Over five pints, by the coroner’s estimate. And DNA matched it to Kit Landover.”

She twisted her necklace as she stared at him. He could almost hear the gears turning in her head. She’d found something out and was debating whether or not to tell him.

She pulled a rumpled piece of paper from her briefcase. “I received this yesterday.”

“What is this?”

“It’s the file of a grifter and prostitute named Brenda Latimer. Someone had it hand-delivered to my desk at the paper yesterday.”

“Did you say Brenda?”

“Look at her picture.”

He unfolded the paper and looked at the picture. Mild indifference turned into keen interest.

“She looks like Kit, doesn’t she?”

“Some.”

“Some! Dye the hair blond and add a couple of years and you’ve got Kit. I’m willing to bet money that Brenda reinvented herself into Kit.”

His eyes narrowed. “A bit far-fetched. You know Landover must have had her investigated.”

“Maybe he did look into her past. Maybe she was so beautiful he was willing to forget about it all.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, just for the sake of argument, let’s assume Kit was Brenda and she did assume a new identity. What if she didn’t die that night but decided to reinvent herself again?”

Interest sparked in his eyes. “Possibly.”

“Kit would use the same identity-building technique that Brenda used the first time. The more I can find out about Brenda the more I’ll be able to figure out where Kit is now.”

“
If
she’s still alive.” He shoved out a breath. “I’m listening.”

She turned. “A new identity requires a birth certificate, preferably of someone who is a similar age and who died out of the country. Scanning the obits can tell you this. Once you’ve found your person, it’s a simple matter to request a birth certificate from the state. If the kid didn’t have a social security number, then you apply for one. If they did have a number, you take it.”

“Are you going to New York to look into Brenda’s past?”

“No, I’m headed to the town where she grew up. Cadence, Massachusetts.”

“It is a small town on the ocean. I’ve been there before.” He nodded. “Cadence is an area she’s familiar with and it would be easy for her to steal more identities of the dead.”

Mackey seemed glad that he was on the same page she was. “Exactly. Which is why I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

He didn’t like the idea of her going alone. “Before you leave town, I have an idea.”

“What?”

“There’s the Founders’ Ball tonight at the club.”

She visibly cringed. “I remember. It’s Regina’s big thing.”

Alex noted the tension in her voice. “I’ve been invited and Pierce Landover is expected to be there.”

Her eyes narrowed and she moved toward him. “Is your short-term memory on the fritz? I was thrown out of that club yesterday.”

“I’m not suggesting you sneak in the back door. I was suggesting you walk in the front door.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Be my date.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked almost embarrassed. “My grandmother has been after me to attend this function for years. I’ve been doing my best to ignore her. But if you come, then maybe our presence will ruffle a few feathers. Maybe Pierce will open up.”

“Oh, we’ll ruffle a few feathers.
My type
sticks out at those places like a gorilla in a china shop. And I can’t guarantee my temper.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Not even for a chance to talk to Pierce directly?”

She chewed her bottom lip. “It’s tempting, Detective.”

Alex swallowed a smile. “So you’re in?”

She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t do well around rich people.”

“Afraid?”

The challenge in his voice had her hackles rising. “No.”

“Good. Then find something nice to wear and be ready by six this evening. I’ll pick you up at Roxie’s.”

She hesitated, clearly chewing on the idea. “Okay.”

Tuesday, July 15, 5:55 p.m.

T
ara was in a blind panic. She’d changed her clothes four times in the last hour. Frustrated by her own vanity, she refused to look in the mirror again or second-guess what she was wearing now. She grabbed her slim black purse and headed down the stairs.

Roxie was at the bar polishing glasses. “Sounded like a hurricane upstairs. What’s going on?”

The place was filling up with customers, and Roxie was at the bar mixing a Tom Collins and a pink lady. She handed the drink order to her waitress Martha, a University of Boston student who worked full-time and carried a full premed schedule. Martha had brown hair that brushed her jawline and pale skin. She wasn’t a great beauty, but to call her just average would have been unjust.

Martha tossed a grin at Tara as she loaded up her drinks. “Hey, girl.” She took a long second look at Tara. “Wow, you look nice.”

Tara glanced down at the simple black sheath dress. It was a top-of-the-line designer piece that she’d bought on sale a couple of years ago in Washington. She wore a vintage circle pendant made of small rhinestones, matching drop earrings and sling-back pumps. This was one of her few formal outfits, she dragged it out for business functions. “Thanks.”

Martha raised her tray. “Be right back. No gossiping without me.”

Roxie leaned forward. “So what’s got you all twisted in knots?”

“I was trying to find the right outfit to wear. Detective Kirkland, I mean Alex, is picking me up and we’re going to the yacht club for a party.”

Roxie lifted a brow. “Very fancy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. My stomach is in knots.”

“So skip the party and just go out to dinner.”

“The whole point is to go to the party. He’s kind of helping me with the Westgate story. I’m more likely to get a quote from one of Kit’s friends if he gives me an introduction.”

Roxie seemed pleased that Tara was even going out. “Well, don’t spend the whole evening thinking about work. Not when you’ve got the attention of Detective Good-Looking.”

Tara groaned at Roxie’s description of Kirkland. “This is business.”

Martha reappeared and set her tray on the bar. “What’s business?”

“I’m working on another article. The Kit Landover disappearance.”

Roxie shook her head. She caught the eye of a patron at the end of the bar who wanted a refill. “Martha, tell Tara she works too hard. Tell her to have fun.”

Martha laughed as Roxie walked away. “I’m the original workaholic. I’m hardly one to give advice. So tell me about the story.”

Tara was grateful to forget about country clubs and clothes as she filled Martha in on the details of the article. “Tomorrow I head to Cadence to see what I can find in Brenda’s past.”

“Should be a nice day for it.”

“With luck, I’ll only be there a day or two.”

Martha noticed two new patrons enter. “Back to the salt mines.”

Tara grabbed another handful of nuts, then thought better of it. She dumped them back in the bowl and decided to head outside and wait for Kirkland. With a wave to Roxie and Martha, she escaped outside. The sun was still bright but the heat of the day had eased off. The streets were full of patrons heading into shops, restaurants and bars. Summers were short in Boston, and people tended to make the best of them.

“Perfect timing.” Alex’s rich voice sounded behind her.

She turned to see him walking down the block. His gait was a bit uneven, but otherwise he looked fit and healthy. He was dressed in a dark suit and, judging by the cut and the fabric, she guessed it was handmade. A crisp white shirt set off a red silk tie. Evening light cast a warm glow on his face, accentuating the faint lines around his eyes and the firm set of his jaw. He looked—dashing.

Tara’s unease grew. “I’m underdressed.”

He shook his head. “You look fine.”

She’d sworn she wouldn’t fish for compliments, but nerves had her asking, “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “My car’s parked up the street. It’s the closest spot I could find.”

She walked beside him up the street. “It gets a little hectic around here in the evenings. The tavern is always full.”

He glanced back at the pink neon sign that blinked Roxie’s. Music spilled out from the bar’s open door and mingled with the laughter of patrons. “She’s got herself a gold mine,” he said.

“And she knows it. The woman can manage a business.”

Alex pulled out his keys and clicked the keyless remote. The lights on a sleek black BMW coupé flashed. He opened the door for her.

She sank onto the plush leather seat. The car was top-of-the-line, fully loaded, and she couldn’t begin to guess what it had cost him.

He slid behind the steering wheel and fired up the engine. The muscle car engine purred.

Tara felt out of her element and found herself falling back to something familiar. She chose to talk about work. “Has the doctor who shot you gone to trial yet?”

He frowned. Clearly this wouldn’t have been his first choice of topics. “Two weeks from now. It’s going to be long, drawn out and will eat up a lot of my time.”

“Don’t be surprised if you see me in the courtroom. My editor likes the way I cover trials.” She smoothed her hand over her dress, wishing she had something more formal.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see you there. I could use a friendly face.”

“I hear cops have a hard time of it after shooting someone.”

His long fingers wrapped over the gearshift. He downshifted as he switched to the turnpike exit. “You have a gift for asking uncomfortable questions.”

“Sorry. It’s in my nature. Tell me to shut up anytime you like.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t mind the questions. I’m just not used to them.”

“Leave it to a Mackey woman to bring up a delicate subject.”

He sped up and moved to the left-hand lane. The car hugged the road like a race car. “You definitely keep me on my toes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He tightened his hand on the wheel. “Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

“I’m good at asking, but terrible at answering.”

“It’s only fair.”

“Go ahead.”

He grinned. “Why did you move up here from D.C.?”

“That’s no mystery. Roxie. She turned sixty-five this year. And though she’ll tell you she hasn’t missed a step, I know running the bar is a bit of a grind for her. When I’m in town, I can open or close for her a few nights a week so she can get to bed early.”

“What took you to D.C. in the first place?”

Tension washed over her. There was a topic that she didn’t want to explore. “A job opportunity.”

He shot her a glance. “And?”

“That’s all I’m willing to comment on.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt. Time to change the topic. “Isn’t there something more important we could talk about, like whom I’m going to be meeting tonight?”

“I’d rather find out why you went to D.C.”

“No comment.”

He got off the turnpike in an exclusive area near the bay. “Okay, if you want to talk shop we can.”

“Great.”

“Just about everyone there tonight has crossed paths with Kit. Good chance someone might say something to you.”

“Do you really think they’ll talk to me?”

“I’m betting you’ll hear more than me. People really clam up around cops.”

“With this set of people, I think they’re just as tight-lipped around reporters.”

“We’ll see.”

Ten minutes later Kirkland pulled into the tree-lined circular driveway of the club. He put the car in Park but left the engine running. As Tara reached for the handle of her door, an attendant in a red jacket appeared and opened it for her. She felt a little silly as she got out of the car. “Thanks.”

The bushes twinkled with small white lights, and soft music and laughter drifted from inside. It wasn’t the bawdy, raucous sounds of Roxie’s but instead had a cultured air that had her spine straightening.

Kirkland came around the front of the car and pressed his hand into the small of her back. He frowned. “Why are you so tense?”

“I told you, I don’t do rich people.”

“I’m rich.” He said the words as if he were talking about the color of his tie.

“It’s a major strike in your corner,” she said honestly. “If you weren’t such a good cop I’d have turned you down for this evening out.”

That shocked him. “You mean you wouldn’t date me because I have money?”

“It’s not the money so much as how the money changes people. It can make them very selfish. The world of the rich is a place I want no part of.”

Shaking his head, he guided her inside. “You’re an odd duck, Mackey.”

Tara smiled. “I’ve been called worse.”

Kirkland guided her into the main room. A five-piece band played pop music. There was a full bar and a huge buffet of food, which no one seemed to be eating. Groups of well-dressed people filled the room, each wearing their designer gowns and diamonds.

Tara was suddenly aware that her outfit was an end-of-the-season-sale bargain three years ago, and that her pendant was rhinestone.

Kirkland seemed to sense her anxiety. “Would you like a drink?”

“Absolutely. Maybe two.”

He grinned. “What would you like?”

A beer. “I don’t know, what do people drink at these things?”

He shrugged. “Whatever they want.”

“I’d love a beer.”

“Preferences?”

“Whatever’s on tap.”

“Be right back.”

She didn’t want to be alone in this crowd. But she caught herself. She was here to meet people, to ask questions, and she
wasn’t
going to be intimidated. “Great.”

As he walked away and left her in the center of the room, she resisted the urge to follow him or stand behind a ficus tree in the corner. These people put their pants on just like regular people.

“Tara Mackey?” Regina Albright’s cultured voice cut through the chatter.

Tara turned, smiling broadly. Regina was dressed in a pale blue silk gown. Her smooth blond hair was pulled back in a French twist and a stunning diamond-and-pearl choker hugged her pale, delicate neck. “Ms. Albright.”

Regina pouted. “Please, call me Regina.”

“Right. Regina.” Tara tried to picture this woman and Kirkland saying their I-dos. Before tonight, she couldn’t have pictured it. But seeing him in his suit, she realized they must have made a beautiful couple.

“Love your outfit,” Regina said.

“Oh, thanks.”

Regina smiled sweetly. “That look was so hot a couple of seasons ago.”

The gloves were off, Tara thought as she stared into the woman’s frosty blue eyes. “So I hear.”

Regina sipped champagne from a delicately fluted glass. “Maybe we can shop sometime?”

“Oh, sure,” she said, knowing Regina’s invitation was as hollow as her compliment. Where was Kirkland and that beer?

Regina lifted a brow. “So what brings you here?”

“Alex invited me.”

A hint of ice crossed her gaze before it vanished. “You two are becoming quite the couple.”

“Not really. We just have a mutual interest.”

“Which is?”

“Finding out what happened to Kit Landover.” Tara studied Regina’s face for her reaction.

Mild interest was all she revealed. “Alex was asking me about her yesterday. Why the sudden interest? It’s been a year.”

Tara countered the question with a question. “I thought you were good friends with her.”

“Well, not
that
close. Kit wasn’t the kind of woman who cultivated friendships with women.”

Interviewing Regina started to settle Tara’s nerves. She felt as if she were back in her own element. “I heard she was a very sensual woman.”

“In a cheap sort of way.” Regina tapped her manicured finger against the crystal flute.

Was that the hint of jealousy? “Were you at the wedding?”

“Kit asked me to be one of her attendants but I had to say no. I was scheduled to be out of the country.”

“Did you hear anything about the wedding after Kit went missing?”

“According to my friend Eleanor, the Landover estate was stunning. Pierce has wonderful taste. And the weather was perfect. Even Kit was more lovely than usual. And of course the Landover gems were the talk of the night.”

“And Kit seemed happy?”

“Eleanor said almost giddy. But a bit nervous. Eleanor figured the nerves were just a bride thing.”

There was something more lurking behind her words. “But…” Tara prompted.

“She heard Kit arguing with someone in her room right before the ceremony. It was a man.”

“Who was she arguing with?”

“I don’t know. Eleanor didn’t recognize the voice. When Eleanor called me to tell me about it the next day, Kit was already missing. We spent an hour on the phone trying to figure out who the mystery man was.”

The slight tension in Regina’s body language had Tara asking, “Does Alex know this?”

She shrugged and sipped her champagne. “He never asked.”

“How’d you feel about Kit?”

Regina seemed surprised by the question, but then shoved out a breath. “I despised the bitch, and she can stay dead as far as I’m concerned.”

Alex collected the frosted beer bottles from the bartender and headed back to Tara. She’d been talking to Regina for over five minutes and his ex’s face was showing signs of stress. During their marriage, he’d seen the look often enough and knew it meant trouble.

He was halfway across the room when he spotted Gertie. When she met his gaze, the look of shock on her face was priceless. He knew he couldn’t get past her without a word.

“Don’t tell me,” Gertie said. “Hell has frozen over.”

Alex smiled. “Probably.”

“Your mother and father would have flown back from Paris if they’d known you were going to attend.”

“I didn’t really know myself until today.”

Gertie studied him with an assessing gaze. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I brought a friend.”

She lifted a slim white eyebrow. “Why?”