Hot Button (31 page)

“And we don’t know yet.” Remember how Nev told me about stakeouts? Well, that’s pretty much what we were up to. We were on a stakeout, right between the vendor room and that trash can where we’d found the Geronimo button a couple days earlier. Being a veteran of these sorts of cloak-and-dagger operations, Nev knew to keep his voice down. “Telling them one of the buttons was real is bound to bring out our perp,” he reminded me, the way he’d been
reminding me since we got back to the hotel. “All we have to do is be patient.”

“Yeah, but this is a stakeout, remember, and you’re going to get crabby.”

Was that a smile that lit Nev’s eyes? It was kind of hard to tell since it was late and the hotel had agreed to help us out by turning down the lights in the corridor and in the little alcove where we were hiding. He stepped closer. “I said I get crabby on regular stakeouts,” he crooned. “I didn’t say anything about getting crabby when you’re around.”

That actually wasn’t true, because, like I said, I’d seen him crabby a time or two. Then again, that was back when we didn’t know each other very well. These days… I thought about all we’d been through together, and I found myself smiling, too.

I mirrored Nev and moved a step closer to him. “So when I’m around, you’re in a good mood?”

“The best.” He put his hands on my arms and bent his head toward mine. “In fact, I’m hoping when we get this case wrapped up—”

“Somebody’s coming!”

We’d stationed Kaz out near the hotel registration desk to keep an eye on things, and didn’t it figure, he picked this exact moment to scoot by and warn us.

My sigh and Nev’s overlapped.

“Who is it?” Nev whispered.

“Couldn’t tell.” Oh yeah, I felt the touch of Kaz’s gaze just at the place where Nev’s hands were on my arms, but when we heard the sound of footsteps from out in the hallway, he didn’t have the luxury of commenting. Just as we planned, he quickly and carefully opened a nearby service door and ducked into the stairwell there.

Nev and I backed away from each other and listened. A minute later, what we heard was the sound of somebody rattling through the nearest trash can. With a nod, Nev indicated it was time to move forward. We did—

And found Chase Cadell with his head down in the trash.

“Too late, Mr. Cadell,” Nev said, and when Chase flinched and stood up, Nev shone his flashlight in his face. “We found the button days ago. It’s been in the police evidence room ever since.”

“Button?” Chase let go a nervous laugh. “I swear, I don’t have a clue what in the tarnation—”

I leaned in close to him. “It was the real one,” I said.

Chase’s face fell like a badly baked cake. “Goldarnit!” he moaned. “I had the real one? The real Geronimo button? And I tossed it? I mean—” It was too late to take back the confession, and Chase knew it.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You were either buyer number one, scheduled to meet Brad after the cruise on Sunday, or buyer number four. Did you meet him in the laundry room? Before the banquet?”

“That might be true.” Chase’s gaze darted between me and Nev. “But that doesn’t mean I killed him. Why would I? I had the button. And I only got rid of it…” As if he could call back time and get his hands on the precious button again, Chase looked longingly at the trash can. “I got rid of it on account of I figured if you found it on me, you’d think it was evidence, that I killed Wyant.”

“Which we do.” Nev flicked his flashlight off and on three times, a signal to the uniformed cop waiting nearby that he could come and escort Chase to the security office.

“I didn’t kill him,” Chase said as he walked away. “I paid him, right enough. And I got that there button, and I’d put my hand to it and swear if it was here. I didn’t kill him.”

“Maybe,” Nev conceded once Chase was gone. “Maybe not. Once we find the person who has the second button—”

He didn’t finish, but then, that was because I poked him in the ribs with my elbow. “Shh,” I hissed. “Listen.”

We did, and we heard the small sounds of shuffling from inside the vendor room. This time, Nev took the lead. Together, we walked to the closed door, and on the count of three, he pushed the door open, and I flicked on the lights.

Was I surprised to see Helen digging through the poke box I’d found her at that afternoon?

I wanted to be. Honest to gosh, I tried. Instead, all I could do was close in on her, my heart as heavy as my voice.

“I was hoping it would be Gloria,” I said.

“Gloria? Really?” She sparkled. But then, Helen always did. Too bad that smile of hers wavered around the edges. “I don’t know… I don’t know what you mean, dear.”

“Sure you do. And it all comes back to what I said earlier, doesn’t it? You couldn’t stand to let anyone think you weren’t the best. You sabotaged everything you could so that folks would think I was a loser and you were the best conference chair ever. And you…” My voice clogged, and I coughed away the pain. “Gloria was buyer number three. She was supposed to meet Brad in the bar after the banquet, but by then, he was dead. You were buyer number one, the person who got the button from Brad on Sunday night. You’ve kept it hidden all this time, but when I announced this afternoon that the buttons were phony, you figured you could get rid of it. That’s why you were digging through the poke box, not to find a button, to lose one. Once I let the cat out of the bag that there was more than one phony button and that the buyers could get their money back, you figured people would start coming forward, and somehow, the cops would find out you were one of the suckers Brad preyed on. You couldn’t
be found with a button that might make you look guilty, either of being taken in by Brad or of his murder.”

Even as I said this, Nev put up a hand, a signal to the waiting crime-scene tech to come retrieve the poke box and take it away.

“It was all about your reputation.” I should have been mad, but I couldn’t muster the energy. I studied the woman who I’d always looked up to as a friend and a mentor. “That’s why you had to make me look bad, and that’s why you killed Brad. You couldn’t let anyone know what he’d done to you.”

Helen lifted her chin, but it says something about how she felt that she refused to meet my eyes. Instead, she glanced at Nev. “If I cooperate… ?”

He didn’t say what would happen, he only gave her a nod as a way of telling her to keep talking.

“You’re right, Josie.” She looked at my shoes instead of my face. “I was buyer number one. You heard Brad say that yourself—”

“Room 842 tonight at eleven.” Brad’s words from the night of the cruise washed over me like ice water. “He wasn’t just making casual conversation; he was telling you where to meet him to get the button. And you…” I would allow myself a good swift kick in the pants later. For now, I needed to sound as confident as I could. “You weren’t drinking that night. That’s not why you were all hopped up. You were excited about getting your hands on the button.”

“And that next evening, when I saw the man I thought was Thad come through the lobby, and then Chase follow him—”

“You figured something was up.”

Helen nodded. “I followed Chase down to the laundry room, and I slipped into that room across the hallway from the one Brad and Chase were in. I heard them talking.
I heard Brad tell Chase that he was selling him the real Geronimo button, and I thought… My goodness!” Helen pressed a hand to her heart. “I thought it was impossible. How could Brad sell the button to Chase when he’d already sold it to me? And that’s when I figured out what he was doing. I assumed all the buttons were fakes, and I knew he was playing us for suckers. I was so angry…”

Helen’s hands curled into fists. “I waited for Chase to leave and then… Then I went into that linen room and I confronted Brad. When I first walked in, well, he was startled. He pulled that beautiful awl out of his pocket, like he thought he had to defend himself or something. But then he saw it was me, and he put it down there on a pile of towels. I told him he was a bad person and that I was going to tell everyone at the conference what he was up to. And he…”

Helen wiped a tear from her cheek. “He laughed at me, Josie. The man I thought was Thad Wyant, the greatest Western button expert on the planet, laughed in my face. He told me he knew I’d never tell anyone what he was up to because if I did, he said it would be like admitting that I was a fool. An old fool, that’s what he said, an old fool who didn’t know her buttons anymore. I don’t know what happened, not exactly. I only know I was so angry, I couldn’t see straight. I grabbed the awl—” Reliving the scene, Helen clutched an imaginary awl in one trembling hand. “And I lashed out at Thad. It wasn’t until…” She looked down at her empty hands, and her shoulders bent beneath the weight of the truth. “When I finally realized what I’d done, he was already dead. You don’t think I’m an old fool, do you, Josie?” Helen held out a hand to me. “You believe me when I say I was out of my mind, that I didn’t know what I was doing?”

The pull of friendship is strong, especially when a friend
is in trouble. I could no more have resisted taking Helen’s hand than I could not take my next breath.

She timed it perfectly.

As soon as Helen had ahold of my hand, she pulled me close, then shoved me as hard as she could. I hit the nearest vendor table with a bang. The table skidded and tipped, I slammed into Nev, and we both hit the floor. Buttons flew everywhere. In the chaos, Helen took off running.

But remember what I said about Stan and backup.

He had her by the shoulders before she ever made it to the door. A second later, Nev was up off the floor. He put his handcuffs on her and led Helen away.

Chapter Twenty-one

“A
ND WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING A BUTTON COLLECTOR
?”

On the giant movie screen at the front of the theater, the woman with the chestnut hair and bowed lips—me—lifted her head and stuck out her chin.

“Defensive,” I whispered to Nev, who was seated next to me and not listening to a word I said. “I was getting way too defensive.”

He shushed me by patting my arm.

“Some of my best friends are button collectors,” I said on-screen. “I’m a button collector.”

Terrified that someone might recognize me, I glanced from left to right. No worries. It wasn’t like
Buttoned Up
, Donovan Tucker’s latest opus, was attracting crowds, in spite of the fact that it was billed as the unlikely convergence of buttons and murder. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances; I sank down in my seat.

“As a whole, button collectors are educated, interesting,
well read, and a heck of a lot better company than a lot of the non–button collectors I’ve met. If you think being a button collector means being boring—”

“Doesn’t it?” That was Donovan’s voice, and I pictured that day in the coffee shop and the way he’d leaned closer to me, eager to catch everything I had to say on video.

On-screen, the camera zoomed in on my face.

I put my head in my hands and groaned.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Since we were just about the only people in the theater, I didn’t feel bad about saying this out loud. “I don’t think I can take another minute.”

“Really?” Nev had just finished the buttered popcorn he was munching, and he brushed his hands together and took my arm. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Outside the Landmark Century Centre Cinema, he looped an arm around my shoulders. “We always had fun seeing movies before.”

“Yeah, but not movies that I’m in.”

He gave me a squeeze. “They’re my favorites.”

OK, yes, I admit it, the smile he gave me made me forget how mortified I was to see my face on the big screen. Almost.

“So…” He glanced up and down North Clark. “It’s early. You want to go for dinner?”

I said I did, and we headed for the nearest burger joint. We were almost there when Nev glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “So, you heard from Kaz?”

“No.” It wasn’t like I was trying to spare his feelings or anything; it was just the truth. “Ever since Amber went back to wherever Amber came from, Kaz doesn’t need me anymore. He doesn’t need to hide out.”

“At least not for now.”

“Look…” I stopped, and because the sidewalk was crowded, I stepped closer to the front display window of a men’s clothing store. “I think we need to talk.”

Nev made a face. “Not about Kaz, I hope. You don’t think I think—”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. What matters is what’s real. And what’s real is that I’m over him. He’s over me. He only comes around when he needs something.”

“Yeah, but he keeps coming around.”

It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly. It was more like Nev was just stating the truth, and that meant I couldn’t deny it.

“No doubt, the next time he needs to hide or he’s low on money… Yeah, he’ll show up again,” I said. “But even if he does…”

“Even if he does?” Nev asked.

And honestly, I couldn’t think of the right words to explain.

Instead, I showed him. I kissed him.

Right there.

Right on the sidewalk.

Right on the lips.

“Wow!” When I was finished, Nev said what I was thinking. “So now it looks like we have something else to talk about right? First it was murder, then Kaz, now—”