COLLATERAL CASUALTIES (The Kate Huntington mystery series) (4 page)

            “Two referrals would be good.”

            A pause, then Skip gave her another name and number. “He’s a sleaze ball, will do anything for a buck. But he usually dances with the gal who brung him. He won’t double cross your client.”

            Kate thought the second guy was the better bet. “Thanks, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

            “Gee, I get that for some lousy referrals. What do I get if I actually do some detecting for you?”

            “Oh, I think we can come up with a fitting reward,” Kate said, her voice a bit husky. “And you don’t have to do
anything
more. You’ve done just enough.”

            Skip laughed and disconnected.

            Kate closed her eyes for a moment. Could she do this? Could she help Miller indirectly sign a man’s death warrant? Then she saw in her mind’s eye the last pictures Miller had sent of his kids. His daughter in a riding habit hugging a pony, horse-crazy like her little Edie was. His son with an impish grin on his face.

            She pulled out the card he had given her and called the number.

CHAPTER THREE

            Skip looked down at his wife sitting next to him on the sofa. The preoccupied expression, that had been coming and going all evening, was back. “Hello. Earth to Kate,” he said gently.

            Her eyes lost the faraway look as she turned toward him, but they were still the washed-out gray they became when she was worried or stressed.

            “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What were you saying?”

            “I was telling you about seeing Janice today. She wants me to do background checks on the witnesses for one of her criminal cases,” he repeated. “She jokingly called me Paul Drake and I pretended to not know who that was.”

             Kate snorted. “What’d she say?”

            “She spluttered and faked being insulted, until I called her Perry.”

            “You know, it’s going to be really sad when all those old TV classics have faded so far into history that the younger generation truly doesn’t know who Perry Mason and Paul Drake are.”

            “Oh, speaking of age,” Skip said, “she’s invited us to her fiftieth birthday party. I told her I’d have to check with you, make sure we’re free that night.”

            “Richard isn’t even bothering to make it a surprise party?”

            He shook his head. “She’s planning it herself. Said she didn’t trust Richard not to just invite his cronies and talk shop all evening.”

            “Oh, yeah, that would be a blast,” Kate said. “A whole room full of estate lawyers.”

            Skip faked a loud snore and let his chin drop forward onto his chest. She laughed and reached over to brush back the hair that flopped down on his forehead.

            His skin tingled where she’d touched it. He was tempted to sweep her up and carry her off to bed. But it was a little early yet, and he was hoping eventually she’d open up about whatever was bothering her.

            “I guess we shouldn’t be stereotyping like that,” Kate said. “They may not all be as dull as Richard.”

            “I hope not.” Skip draped an arm across her shoulders. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

            He glanced down. The preoccupied expression was back. “What’s the matter, darlin’?”

            Kate looked away. “Unfortunately I can’t talk about it. It has to do with a client, a former client actually.”

            “Can’t you talk about it in general terms, without violating confidentiality?” Skip had learned that his woman often needed to process things out loud to get them out of her system.

            “Not this time. It’s too sensitive a situation. My client’s in physical danger, until certain things get resolved. That’s making it harder to put aside.”

           
Physical danger?
He didn’t like the sound of that.

            He tightened his arm around her. “Is this the client you needed PI referrals for?”

            “Yes, but let’s not talk about it anymore. I might slip and say more than I should. So about this party, what night is it?”

            Reluctantly he allowed the subject to be changed. “Saturday, October first.”

            “I don’t think we have anything on the calendar, but I’ll have to check with Maria. See if she’s willing to watch the kids.”

            “You know she won’t let us pay her overtime,” Skip said. They tried not to take advantage of their live-in nanny and housekeeper who was normally off duty on weekends. But the daughters of their closest friends, Rob and Liz Franklin, were now grown and they hadn’t found any other babysitters they trusted.

            “I’ve learned to just put it in her next check without discussion.” Kate was smiling, but her eyes were clouded with worry again. This time he found out the cause right away.

            “Sweetheart, do you ever get the sense that Janice is coming on to you?”

            He grinned down at her. “Nope, apparently tall, dark and Texan isn’t her type.”

            She smiled back.

            “Seriously,” he said, “I wonder what the hell she sees in Richard.”

            “My best guess would be transference.”

            “Meaning what?” He vaguely remembered the term from Psych 101 in college.

            “Richard unconsciously reminds her of her father,” Kate said.

            “She never talks about her father, just her mother and grandmother. I don’t think he was around much.”

            “There you go.”

            Skip decided to offer a little extra reassurance. “She teases a lot, but she doesn’t flirt. It’s not her style.”

            Kate smiled up at him. “I really do like her, sweetheart. We’ve become friends in our own right. And since I have a platonic friendship with a man, I can hardly complain. I just wish I could warm up to Richard more.”

            Skip suppressed the urge to say,
Why? The man’s a jerk.

            They sat in silence for another moment, then Kate let out a sigh. He suspected she was thinking about her client again. Well, if he couldn’t help her with that problem, he could at least distract her from it.

            He picked up her hand and gently kissed her palm. She sucked in her breath. Pulling her tight against him, he lowered his lips to hers. She parted them and invited him in.

            He never grew tired of exploring her mouth. A sensation like sweet, warm liquid flowed through him. Quite a few body parts were tingling now. For a second, his throat closed at the flash of memory from the year before, when he’d almost lost her. He pushed the thought aside.

            Eventually, Kate leaned back, gasping for air.

            Skip stood, pulling her to her feet with him. Then he swung her up in his arms.

            She snuggled her head against his chest. “You know, someday we’re gonna get too old for this sweep-me-off-my-feet routine.”

            “Not for awhile yet,” he murmured, as he nuzzled her neck.

~~~~~~~

            Her husband’s loving attentions sufficiently distracted and relaxed Kate that she fell into a sound sleep.

            But at four in the morning, she woke up gasping, her cheeks wet with tears. Skip rustled next to her but didn’t wake up. Kate stared at the ceiling, trying to get her breathing under control.

            She couldn’t remember most of the nightmare. But each time she began to drift off again, her mind flashed to the one image she did remember. Miller Dawson falling forward with a knife in his back.

            At five-thirty, she gave up and slipped out of bed. Might as well go to the
dojo
and get in some extra
aikido
practice. She knew the owner would be there. He always arrived early.

            In the bathroom, she pulled on the loose pants of her martial arts uniform and tied her green belt around the jacket of the
gi
. She froze for a moment, realizing part of the significance of the dream. A little over a year ago, she had almost been killed. She’d been a bit phobic regarding knives ever since.

            That event had spurred her to research self-defense training. She’d wanted to know she could protect herself should she ever end up in such a situation again.
Aikido
had the most appeal because it was purely defensive. You used your opponent’s energy and momentum against them. An assailant comes at you, you step aside at the last moment and they go flying past. They lunge and grab for your arm, you grab theirs and dip your shoulder. Their momentum carries them right over your back.

            Kate drove into the empty parking lot of the Towson
dojo
. Apparently she had beat Brad there after all. She parked, then cranked her seat back a notch and closed her eyes.

            When she’d first enrolled at the
dojo
, she’d been informed that the instructor, referred to as
sensei,
required an in-person interview to determine each new student’s goals. She’d been surprised when the
sensei
had turned out not to be the wizened Japanese gentleman she had imagined but a buff, thirty-something, blue-eyed blond named Brad. After hearing her reasons for wanting to refresh her self-defense skills, he had bluntly told her that training once a week would produce only a false confidence in her ability to protect herself.

            She’d thought he was just trying to promote his program, but after being thrown about unceremoniously by her classmates, she’d realized he was right. Unfortunately with her busy schedule, twice a week was the best she’d been able to accomplish, but she had managed to earn her green belt.

            Kate jumped at the sound of knuckles against glass. Brad had arrived.

            A half hour into their practice session, he caught her around the waist and set her back on her feet. “That’s the third time you’ve started into a roll off balance. You’re distracted.”

            “Sorry,
Sensei
. I didn’t sleep well.”

            Brad cocked an eyebrow at her.

            Kate grimaced. For a young man who made his living throwing people around on mats, this guy had a disconcerting level of psychological astuteness. “Okay, yes, I’m distracted. I was hoping a hard workout would help me get grounded.”

            Brad shook his head. “Not workin’, and you’re gonna get hurt. Go home.”

            “But class starts soon.”

            Brad pointed toward the door of the
dojo
. “Come back tomorrow.”

            She sighed. The man might be a decade younger, but in the world of
aikido
one does not argue with one’s
sensei
.

            Kate dragged through the morning, struggling against fatigue and preoccupation to focus on her clients’ needs. By lunchtime, she’d realized she wasn’t going to be able to let go of her worries about Miller until she talked it out with somebody.

            And the most logical person was Rob Franklin, her lawyer and her closest friend after Skip. She and Rob usually had lunch together on Wednesdays, a tradition started years ago when their consultations on mutual cases had first blossomed into a friendship.

            Kate called Rob’s cell phone. The call went to voicemail. “Hey, can you come to the house tomorrow for lunch, instead of going to Mac’s Place. I’ve got something I need to bounce off you that I don’t want anybody to overhear.”

~~~~~~~

            When Rob arrived the next day, there was a dollar bill sitting next to his plate on the oak table that dominated one end of Kate’s kitchen. He lowered his big frame into a chair and tapped the money.

            “What’s this?” he asked, running meaty fingers through thick hair that was already, at fifty-two, more gray than its original dark brown.

            He had a strong suspicion what her answer would be.

            “That’s your yearly retainer. I believe it’s overdue.”

            Rob reached out to snag a sandwich from the platter she placed in the middle of the table. “So what you need to talk about is confidential.”

            “Extremely so. It’s so sensitive I can’t talk to Skip about it, even in general terms. But you, as my lawyer... Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you either, but I’ve got to talk to somebody.”

            Rob pocketed the dollar bill and smiled at her. “As your lawyer, I will go to my death with your secrets intact.”

            “Don’t joke about that. This really is a matter of life or death.” It took fifteen minutes for her to spell out the gist of her client’s situation, leaving out names and other identifying information.

            After the first few minutes, Rob put his sandwich down. He was used to hearing some pretty wild stories from his clients, but this was mind-boggling. Kate had worked with
a spy
? And now somebody was trying to kill the guy.

           
Holy crap!

            “I feel bad,” Kate said. “He wanted Skip’s help and I said no.”

            “You did the right thing. There’s no way you all should get involved in this.”

            “I know, but I still feel bad. What if something happens to him or his family?”

            Rob was a little afraid to ask the question hovering in the back of his mind. Kate tended to be protective of her clients. He chose his words carefully so he wouldn’t sound like he was putting the man down. “How sure are you that this guy isn’t having some kind of mental breakdown?”

            “Trust me, that thought has crossed my mind a dozen times since Monday. But I’m about ninety percent sure he’s as sane as you or me, and what he told me is all too true.”

            “I feel for the guy, but I still say leave it alone. And stay as far away from him as you can get.”

            Rob picked up a sandwich from the platter and put it on Kate’s empty plate. She ignored it. Not a good sign. She normally had a voracious appetite.