Kill Shot (9 page)
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CHAPTER SIX
Oz congratulated himself on getting into the elevator without putting his fist through any walls. He stabbed the parking garage button with his index finger.
How could she be such an idiot?
Judgmental?
What’s that about?
He’d never judged her.
Except when she was being an idiot.
He got into his car and peeled out of the underground parking. Returning to the lab, he found Aida Bounds examining the enlarged photographs with a magnifying glass.
“Why so grim, Oz?” she asked. “Did your girlfriend give you a hard time about the stripper?” She looked up at him through her thick lenses.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he growled.
“The stripper, then?” She grinned at him.
“Not her either.”
“Be still my heart.” She placed both hands over her ample bosom and rolled her eyes. “You mean there’s a chance for me?”
“You’re the only woman I know who isn’t crazy,” he snapped.
Aida chortled. “Then there’s no hope for us, Oz. Men and women aren’t supposed to understand each other. It’s against the law.”
He had to grin in spite of his churlish mood. “What law is that?”
“The law of attraction, silly boy. We’re attracted to our opposites; the things that are strange and complicated attract us. We try to unravel the riddle, solve the puzzle, but we can’t because if we do we’ll get bored and move on.”
“Not me,” he said. “I want to understand the woman I love. I don’t need complicated.”
Aida emitted a short mirthless snort. “Wrong, you just think you want uncomplicated. I suspect that this girl Micki, has you wrapped around her little finger and you don’t have a clue how you got there.”
He shrugged. “You could be right.”
“Come on, Oz. Give the girl her due. The electricity between the two of you could start a fire.”
He cringed. “It already did, and it burned me to the ground.” He tried to keep his voice level but, to his annoyance, it broke.
“My deepest sympathies.” She cast him a compassionate glance and returned to the magnifying glass. “Hey, look at this.”
Oz looked over her shoulder and she passed the magnifying glass to him.
“Hello,” he said. “I know this face.”
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When she heard Oz turn his key in the lock, Micki stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder.
“I’m glad you made it back alive,” he said.
“I didn’t go. I waited for you.”
He eyed her coolly. “Why? I thought I was too judgmental.”
“Well,” she said with a grin. “You are. Everything’s black or white with you. There are no shades of gray. No nuance, but...”
“But...”
“I didn’t want to take the chance that you might be right because there would be no living with you if I got myself killed.”
He reached to massage the back of his neck, rotating his head from side to side. “I’m sure there’s some kind of twisted feminine logic in there.” He gave her a brief hug. “I’m glad you waited for me.”
“Let’s go. Arnold will be at my apartment soon.”
“Yes, Miss Scarlet.” He tweaked her hair as she preceded him out the door.
On the drive over, Oz appeared to be in a much better mood. The banter between the two of them was light and he seemed to have forgotten their earlier confrontation.
Micki made a mental note to try not to irritate him for at least a day.
At the apartment, he shook Arnold’s hand and strolled around looking like a casual observer. She thought he was playing down the image of the uniformed cop checking out the crime scene. Of course, he’d driven around the block twice before parking and had practically smuggled Micki out of the car under his arm but, for Oz, he was being cool.
Micki smiled her approval. She gave Arnold the list of missing and damaged items.
“The thief, he did this?” Arnold gestured to the bruises on her face.
She nodded.
“My God, Micki. What’s going on with you?”
She shrugged. Arnold Meyers had been her parent’s insurance agent ever since she could remember. When her dad had brought home the used Honda on her sixteenth birthday, it had been insured by Arnold Meyers. Somehow she felt as though she was letting him down by filing not one, but two claims in two days.
“And the computer hard drive is at the police station?” he asked.
“It’s toast,” Oz offered. “The lab guys tried to recover the data but they said it will never function as a computer.”
Arnold gathered information on the replacement cost of her equipment and left, shaking his head. Micki felt a twinge of guilt. Things like this didn’t happen to Arnold’s clients.
Micki locked the door behind him and turned to find Oz closing her blinds. She smiled, not willing to upset the delicate balance by suggesting that he was being paranoid.
“I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do,” she said.
“I’ll help you straighten up,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I don’t have to,” he said. “But I want to help.”
“You’ve helped me more than I deserve. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight. There’s a great Italian place down the street.”
“I’m still in uniform.”
“You gotta eat.”
Oz grinned his acceptance. They walked to the restaurant, which was on a side street. He watched each passerby, but apparently didn’t find any suspicious activity.
They were seated in a quiet corner and a cheery young waiter recited the daily specials for them and left them alone. Oz sat with his back to the wall, looking at the other restaurant patrons with interest.
“What do you think?” She gestured to the very upscale Italianate décor.
“Very nice.” He reached for her hand. “It was a great suggestion.” He inspected her hand, studiously. “Is this where you always take your dates?”
Micki slanted a look under her lashes. The image of Fawn and her exotic beauty flashed through her mind. “I’ve eaten a lot of lonely meals here, Oz. Unlike you, I didn’t find a replacement the minute we broke up.”
His dark gaze was tempered with amusement. “I didn’t break up with you. You broke up with me.”
“Let’s drop it.” She sent him a warning with her glance.
The waiter brought breadsticks and a carafe of the house red.
She took a sip, watching the flickering candlelight reflect in Oz’ eyes over the rim of her goblet. The wine was giving her a warm flush. At least she thought it was the wine.
He raised his glass to her and took a drink before setting it down and gazing at her across the table. “I didn’t mean to bring up old wounds, especially mine. This is a great restaurant. I’m glad you suggested having dinner here.”
Micki smiled, understanding that he wouldn’t want to be in a place where she had dined with other men. He knew that he was her first, but he had no idea that he’d been her only.
The waiter set their salads on the table and offered a choice of dressing.
Oz’ interest was snared by something or someone behind her. He took a fork full of salad, but his attention was riveted on this unknown being.
Micki felt a stab of jealousy. She wondered if he was staring at another woman, but discarded that idea. Oz wasn’t a player, but then again, he had been dating a stripper. She started to turn, but a slight shake of his head kept her focused on her salad.
“What am I not looking at?” she asked.
“I recognized someone, that’s all. Just enjoy your meal. It’s nothing.” He reached for the basket of breadsticks and offered her one.
She accepted it reluctantly, resisting the urge to turn around and stare at whatever held Oz’ rapt attention.
“You’re making me crazy,” she said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t change out of uniform. I stick out like a tuba in a piano bar.”
“I don’t. I look like part of the furniture.”
Oz gave her an amused look. “Not on your worst day,” he said. “But I wish I was dressed more like a waiter. I’d be hovering in the corner trying to hear what’s going on between Baldemar Polanski and a thug I recognize.”
“Who is Baldemar Polanski?” She blotted her lips on the napkin and dropped it beside her chair, using the act of retrieving it to steal a glance at the corner table.
“He’s an arms dealer and I think the man with him was in the park photos. Aida blew everything up and enhanced the image. I’m sure he’s the guy. I wish I could get a picture of him.”
Micki let out a little purr of amusement. “Aren’t you glad you have a photographer when you need one?” Micki fished around in her purse until her fingers wrapped around her cell phone.
“Micki, sit down,” Oz whispered.
“You just stay there and try not to look so big and official.” She stood up, saying, “I really have to take this.” She walked to the front door with the phone to her ear, laughing a little in response to the imaginary caller’s witticism. She stood close to the door and mimed a few more sentences before holding the phone up as though reading something. She smiled at Oz when she returned to the table and slid the phone across to him. “I think I got a few shots you can use.” She smiled across the table. “How is your veal?”
“Delicious,” he said.
“Liar,” she said softly. “You haven’t tasted a thing that’s gone into your mouth.”
“I’m calling the station house.” Oz punched in the number and got patched through to his lieutenant, forwarding the photos to him. He flipped the phone closed and grinned at her.
“What did your lieutenant say?” she asked.
“It started out with ‘Hot damn,’ and slid right into language I can’t repeat in front of you.”
“What happens next?” she asked.
“We’re supposed to stay put so you should probably order dessert.” Oz caught the waiter’s eye and ordered tiramisu for Micki. He asked him to take his time with the check for the corner table.
Her mouth watered at the thought of such a decadent sweet. She hadn’t tasted any since...since the last time they’d dined out together in an Italian eatery. “How did you know I wanted tiramisu?”
“I know what you like,” he said under his breath.
“You got lucky this time.” She grinned at him.
Oz was filled with a barely restrained energy like a racehorse waiting for the starting gun. He held her hand and kissed her fingertips. It was as though he’d momentarily forgotten that she’d broken up with him.
A short time later the arms dealer and his guest left the restaurant.
Oz stood up, instructing Micki to stay in her seat. He walked to the front of the establishment and peered out the beveled glass inserts in the polished brass doors. Flashing lights appeared outside, making a starburst pattern spin around the walls as they reflected through the beveled glass. The diners craned their necks to see what was going on outside. Unobtrusively, Oz drew his weapon.
Micki caught her breath, her heart doing a somersault in her chest.
The crowd of restaurant-goers seemed to react as one, drawing in a breath and releasing a series of squeals when Baldemar Polanski ran back inside the restaurant with a gun in his hand.
“Drop your weapon,” Oz yelled. Baldemar stopped and raised his hands, his gun clattering to the tiled floor. Oz nudged it aside with his foot and ordered Baldemar to his knees with his hands behind his head. Other officers rushed inside the restaurant as Oz wielded his handcuffs.
He glanced back at Micki and winked as he retrieved Baldemar’s gun.
She realized she’d been holding her breath. He made such a big target when the man rushed at him with gun in hand. A picture sprang to her mind of a younger Oz making a basket or hitting a line drive and looking up into the stands to find her and wink. This one’s for you, Micki. That’s what he was telling her.
A balding older man shook Oz’ hand and pounded him on the shoulder at the same time. Both were grinning. Oz gestured toward her and the man followed him back to the table.
Oz introduced her to Lieutenant Qualls, his supervisor.
“Miss Vermillion, your boyfriend here broke a very important case by identifying a wanted fugitive. Very keen powers of observation.” He congratulated Oz again and departed with the other officers.
Micki did an elaborate eye-roll. “Never let it be said that an evening with you is anything less than exciting.”
“It was your photo, Micki. I couldn’t have done it without you. The Lieutenant said I’d probably get a commendation out of it, maybe a promotion.”
“This was because you recognized the man with the fugitive as being on my film?” She smiled as Oz reached for her hand again.
“Something like that,” he said. “The important thing is that the man you photographed in the park is probably behind the attacks on you and your bride. The fugitive was the cherry on the cake.”
“Does that mean this is over? Can I go back to my apartment?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll find out what the detectives learn when they question them.”
Oz insisted on paying the check and they walked the block back to her apartment where he’d parked.
