Kill Shot (27 page)
“How, ya’ doin’, girl?” Gina’s wide grin was contagious.
“I’m doing pretty well,” Micki said. “Hop in.”
Gina slid in on the passenger side and Micki continued her slow crawl down the tree-lined streets. “What are you doing here? Moving back to the old neighborhood?”
“Nah. I went by to see my mom,” Micki said. “How are you, Gina?”
“Knocked up.” She laughed when Micki turned to gape at her. “Yeah, Carlo and me. We’re getting married.”
Micki grinned and looked Gina over. “You’re not showing.”
“Early days, yet. Our moms are planning a hurry-up wedding, so they can tell everyone the baby is premature, but we don’t care. We just want to get it over with so we can be together.”
Micki drove slowly, looking at the familiar houses and small neighborhood businesses as they passed by.
Some things never changed.
“Give me your address and I’ll send you an invite,” Gina said. “You and--”
“Oz,” Micki said softly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Micki,” Gina said. “I forgot you and Oz broke up.”
“We kind of got back together again.” Micki flashed the ring.
“Oh, my God!” Gina shrieked. “Oh, my God, Oh, my God.” She pulled Micki’s hand over to inspect the ring. “It’s huge! That Oz is such a great guy. So, he took you back after you dumped him and got you this big fat diamond ring. You are so lucky, Micki Vermillion. You are one lucky girl.”
Micki heaved a deep sigh. “Yes, I am.”
#
“What are you people trying to do?” Laurel Jobe stormed from the back of the penthouse to the foyer when Lissa opened the door.
“We have a warrant, Ma’am,” Oz said. “Step out into the hallway and we’ll try to carry it out as quickly as possible.”
“What in the hell are you looking for?”
“Just step out here, Mrs. Jobe, Miss Montgomery. Is anyone else at home?”
“My son, Trey and our chauffer, Javier.”
Once everyone was rounded up and situated in the foyer, Oz assigned one of the officers to watch the group while he, Vinnie and another officer entered the Jobe penthouse.
Oz searched through Hobart Jobe’s office without discovering a gun. He found a locked safe set into the wall and a wealth of files and folders. There was no computer in his office, but there was in the couple’s bedroom. Oz removed the computer and files.
He entered another bedroom that turned out to be Javier’s. It was sparsely furnished and, judging from the lack of personal effects, Oz assumed that Javier spent much of his personal time at another location, perhaps with parents or a girlfriend. A cache of girlie magazines under the bed attested to Javier’s interest in the fairer sex.
A couple of family photos caught Oz’ attention. He picked up a framed photograph and saw Javier in a large group of people, among them a face he recognized. He took the photo with him back to the station.
None of the officers turned up a weapon in the Jobe penthouse. Their haul consisted of the computer and a stack of papers and bank records.
When they left, Oz said, “Sorry for the disturbance, Mrs. Jobe.”
“I hope you all rot in hell.” She stomped into the penthouse and slammed the door.
#
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Hobart Jobe looked shrunken, leaning to one side of his chair. He maintained a thin smile as he gazed impassively at the men sitting opposite him.
Marshall Keanes took a seat beside his client. He cleared his throat. “Against my advice, Mr. Jobe wishes to make a statement.”
“I did it, gentlemen,” he said. “I shot Jason Best.”
Oz and Qualls stared at him and then at each other. Qualls recovered first. “When did this take place, sir?”
“Two days ago. It was early in the morning.” He looked extraordinarily pleased with himself.
“Could you tell us in your own words, what happened?”
Jobe emitted a dry little chuckle. “Of course, I’ll use my own words. Did you think I’d memorized a script?”
“No sir,” Qualls said. “Please go on.”
“As I said, it was early in the morning. I knew Jason’s habit of coming in to the spa before anyone else so he could work out and use the facilities uninterrupted.” He cleared his throat and reached for the water. His hand shook as he carefully gripped the glass and raised it to his lips. He took a sip and set the glass down on the table with particular concentration.
A muscle twitched beside Jobe’s eye as he held Qualls gaze. “I waited for him. When he got out of his car, I shot him in the head.”
“Why did you shoot Mr. Best?” Qualls asked.
“I was angry because he’d been bothering my wife. He’d been employed as her personal trainer but he...took liberties. She tried to terminate his services, but he threatened to go to the press and claim they’d been having an affair. I was only trying to protect her honor from a complete cad.”
“I see.” Qualls glanced at Oz.
Oz leaned forward. “Mr. Jobe, what did you do with the gun you used to kill Jason Best?”
“The river. I threw it in the river.” Jobe spoke as though this was a major accomplishment in itself.”
“And what kind of gun was it, sir?” Oz asked.
For the first time, Jobe’s thin smile disappeared, giving way to irritation. Clearly, this was a man not used to having his word questioned.
“How the hell should I know? I asked someone to get me a gun and that was what they brought me.”
“Who obtained the gun for you?” Oz asked.
Hobart regarded him solemnly. “I’d rather not say.”
“Sir, could you explain your relationship with Philip Luka?” Oz stared at Hobart coldly, but felt his jaw tighten when he said Luka’s name.
After a moment of hesitation, Jobe glanced, for the first time, at Marshall Keanes.
“Mr. Jobe hired Mr. Luka to act as go-between for him in a certain transaction.”
“Could you define the nature of that transaction for us?” Qualls asked.
“Mr. Luka was to procure certain photographs and materials which could prove to be embarrassing to the Jobe family if they were published,”
Keanes said.
Oz tried unsuccessfully to keep the rage he felt out of his voice when he spoke. “You’re saying that you hired Philip Luka to break into the apartment of one Micki Vermillion, a wedding photographer, steal photographs and a camera, destroy her computer and assault Miss Vermillion?”
“Absolutely not!” Hobart Jobe glared back at Oz. “I hired him to pay this photographer the sum of one hundred thousand dollars for her photographs.”
“That’s all?” Qualls asked, a slight hand gesture telling Oz to back off.
Jobe nodded at him.
“And when Philip Luka assaulted a police officer during one of his contacts with Miss Vermillion, you had no knowledge of that?”
“Absolutely not,” Jobe averred.
“Then why did you send Mr. Keanes to act as Mr. Luka’s attorney when he was arrested for assaulting the officer?”
Keanes spoke up. “Anything Mr. Luka did, other than purchasing the photographs, while acting as liaison for my client, Mr. Jobe, was entirely his own doing,”
“Careful, counselor,” Qualls cautioned. “Since you represent both men, you don’t want to act in any way unprofessionally. Speaking of which, Mr. Keanes, you arranged bail for Mr. Luka?”
“Yes, I did. I believed he wasn’t a flight risk. Mr. Luka assured me he was innocent of the charges against him.”
“It wasn’t because you and Mr. Jobe wanted Luka to get out of the country?”
“Certainly not!” Marshall Keanes seemed to fluff up, looking like a Central Park pigeon on a cold day. “I was following my client, Mr. Jobe’s, directives. At the time we thought Luka had only carried out Mr. Jobe’s instructions to purchase the photos and back up material from the photographer.”
Lieutenant Qualls took a deep breath and blew it out. “Mr. Hobart Jobe,” he said. “In light of your confession to the murder of Jason Best, we are holding you for arraignment.” He turned to Oz. “Please read Mr. Jobe his rights and escort him to a cell.”
#
Oz looked exhausted. It had been late when he finally got back to his apartment.
Micki fed him and unbuttoned his shirt.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You look dead on your feet,” she said. “Let’s go to bed early.”
“Now, that’s what I mean.” He grinned at her. “You’re going to undress me?”
“If I have to.” She pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “Resistance is futile. Surrender.”
“I give up.” He grinned as he kicked out of his shoes.
As soon as he lay down on the bed he closed his eyes and was soon asleep.
Micki stood over him, gazing down in awe. He must be wiped out not to be making a physical overture or at least teasing her. She shed her clothes and crawled in beside him, pulling a light coverlet over them both.
Oz’ arms encircled her and she kissed him lightly before curling herself against him and joining him in sleep mode.
#
“Oz? I wouldn’t have called except she says she knows you. What do you want me to do?”
It was almost one thirty in the morning.
Oz glanced at Micki, sleeping curled up beside him and stifled the urge to hang up. “I’ll be right there.” He eased out of bed and threw on his jeans and shirt. He grabbed his badge and gun before tiptoeing out the door.
He drove to the bar close to the station that was frequented by cops. It had been his hangout with Vinnie before getting back together with Micki. A beer and a few games of pool or darts with his buds had kept him from going home to his lonely apartment and brooding about how his relationship with Micki had gone wrong.
He entered and got a few waves and grunts of greeting from people he knew.
She was sitting at the bar with Eddie, the bartender, and Vinnie standing close by.
Oz swallowed hard and ducked his head. He knew he was headed for trouble, but some sense of guilt kept him from turning around and departing the same way he had come in. He owed this to her.
Vinnie raised his eyebrows and gave Oz a shake of his head as he slid onto a stool at the end of the bar. Close enough to lend a hand, but far enough to give them a little privacy.
“She’s cooled down now,” Eddie said. “But when I called you, she was on a tear. She threw her beer mug at the mirror behind the bar and broke it. She broke all those bottles too. She was just wild, man.”
Oz nodded and took the stool beside Fawn. “What’s going on?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him, but kept fiddling with the clasp of her oversized handbag, her loud, familiar perfume assailing his senses like a cloud of nerve gas. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he said.
Eddie went behind the bar and drew a beer for Oz.
“I miss you, you know,” she said, a little quiver in her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll bet you don’t even think of me.” She looked up at him, her mascara smeared and streaked down her cheeks.
He didn’t answer, taking a sip of beer instead. “What happened here?” He pointed to the wreckage behind the bar.
She examined a broken artificial nail. “I thought you might be here. I just wanted to talk.”
“I haven’t been in this bar since...”
“I know,” she said. “I heard all about it from your dear friend, Vinnie. He said you were back with the love of your life and I should just forget all about you.” She swiveled the barstool to face him, her long legs pressed against his. “Except, I can’t forget you Oz.”
“Fawn, I can’t see you again. I’m engaged to marry Micki now. I’ve been in love with her since I was a kid.”
Her face crumpled and she reached out to him, grasping him around the neck. He met Vinnie’s disapproving glare over Fawn’s head while she pressed herself against his chest. She leaned on him heavily, crying as he patted her shoulder.
“Come on, Fawn,” he said. “Don’t do this.”
“I can’t help how I feel.” Her voice quavered as she sniffled wetly against his chest. “I’m never going to meet a nice guy.”
“Sure you are,” he said. “You’re not looking in the right places. Nice guys don’t hang out in bars and strip clubs.”
“That’s where I met you,” she pulled away to look up at him, her face appearing clown-like with its smeared make up.
“That was my birthday. The guys took me out, but that’s not where I would normally hang out.” He tried disengaging her arms from around his neck. “I have to go home now. I don’t think Eddie will press charges if you pay for the damage and leave.”
