Lying Eyes (6 page)

"You like children, don't you?"

"What's not to like? It's not until later some of them go bad."

"Why?"

"It usually starts with petty shop-lifting at the corner store. Crimes of opportunity. If there's not enough food at home to go around, some previously well-behaved kid joins a gang before a patrolman can blink an eye."

"I read gang members are responsible for most of LA's crime."

"Sad, but true. Poverty and the easy access to drugs are the main reason kids join gangs. Central Division has a gang task force and a drug task force, but no one has found a solution to the root of most crime—poverty. Why all the questions? I feel like you're interviewing me without my permission."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. My curiosity about what makes a police officer put his life on the line day in and day out got the best of me."

He grinned wickedly. "You're excused. I suspect the increased adrenalin in your blood stream has loosened your tongue again. How about a night cap? There's still an open bottle of white wine in the refrigerator."

"A glass of wine sounds good. I've marked a few of tomorrow's events I'd like to attend, but you haven't had a chance to open your schedule."

––––––––

"W
ell? Did you recover it?"

The caller quaked.

"Not yet, but I did see her step out into the hall, so I know I have the right room."

"You didn't grab her? Why the hell not?"

"She wasn't alone."

"But you have searched her room."

"N-Not yet"

"Why?"

"She's been holding a party in her room. The guests just left."

"It's early. You still may get a chance."

"My thought, too. I'll call as soon as I recover the bag."

*****

T
o Carlo's pained acceptance and her obvious amusement, Allison kept the black mini-dress on for the banquet. She even flaunted it as she walked ahead of him to the banquet hall. He stalked inside, where an orchestra played quietly while the conference revelers found seats and enjoyed the first course, shrimp cocktails.

Good, but I need something that will stick to my ribs.

"Aren't the nosegays of pink roses on the tables lovely?" Allison said, pushing the remains of her shrimp away.

The music faded and the doors swung open to admit a swarm of waiters bearing covered entrees. Carlo rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He'd been too distracted at the meeting in Allison's room and had only nibbled a few bites of the roast beef wrap he'd put on his plate.

A waiter delivered his entrée, grilled chicken and vegetables that had suffered from waiting too long for the waiters to clear the shrimp course.

Allison shrugged. "That's the way it goes at banquets. You win some and lose some. There's always tomorrow night."

"And dessert," Marsha added hopefully, lifting her fork.

The chicken tasted far better than it looked.

Double-chocolate cheese cake followed the chicken and made a big hit with Carlo's group.

Then the Conference Chair welcomed everyone and introduced the speaker, Carlisle Q. Nash, multi-published author of more than a hundred crime novels loaded with violence and angst. Carlo listened attentively as the speaker touched on the many problems involved in writing gore and ended by saying, "I'm certain it's possible to write a mystery so scary the reader is shaken to the core without having a single character bleed. If you know how, please meet me in the bar later. I'd like to buy you a drink and pick your brain."

He left the podium to loud applause and an equally loud round of laughter.

*****

A
llison and Carlo had just returned to room 510 when his cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he turned aside. "Excuse me, I have to take this."

"Sure," Allison said, returning her attention to the workshop schedule.

"Hi, Mom. Sorry I haven't called. I should have let you know I'm working this weekend and won't be able to come by and see Snookums. Give her my love."

Grinning broadly, he said, "If we get lucky, I might make it on Sunday night. If so, I'll see you then."

Obviously embarrassed, he slipped the phone back in his pocket and cleared his throat.

Leaning back against the headboard Allison grinned at him. "Snookums?"

"My cat. I never should have allowed a stray to adopt me, but for some reason she took a liking to me and wouldn't leave. The colorful tabby wouldn't have survived long on my busy street. I couldn't turn her out."

"How long have you had her?"

"She lasted a month at my place. I'm almost never there, so I persuaded Mom to take her in and give me visitation rights. Both are extremely sociable and keep each other company. At my weekly visit with Snookums I can check on Mom, too, and she never realizes it."

"Your mother isn't well?"

"She's in reasonably good health, but has slowed considerably over the last six months. After Dad's death Mom had to find a job. She'd never worked before, and a housekeeping job at a nearby Marriot was the best paying work she could find. I did what I could, like hurrying home from school to clean our house and starting dinner so she wouldn't have to do anything, but working long hours for so many years took its toll on her."

"You? Cook?
"
She had trouble picturing her uptight guardian ever dirtying his hands.

He smirked. "I make a mean
Portobello Paradiso with Marinara Sauce
like my grandmother used to make. Most Italian men can cook, but don't let their wives find out."

"Afraid of spoiling their macho image?"

He grinned widely. "Something like that."

She closed the workshop schedule, but kept her finger inside to hold her place. "Darn it. I can't decide whether to go to the 'Writing Sizzling Sex Scenes' workshop or the one about serial killers. Wouldn't you know both workshops are being presented at the same time. Which one should I choose?"

"How should I know? Which one interests you most?"

She swallowed a grin.
I get such a kick out of teasing Carlo.

"I think I'll go to the one about writing sex scenes. I love to watch you blush."

"
I
do not blush."

"Your ears do."

Scowling, he glanced at his watch. "Don't move," he ordered her as he stood, yanked open the door to the adjoining room, and stalked inside.

A drawer slammed and another one, followed by the sound of water running next door.

He's brushing his teeth. Getting ready for the Welcome Party despite his reservations about us attending.

She retouched her makeup, brushed her long hair until it stood away from her shoulders, and smiled at her wanton-looking reflection. Hair spray added the finishing touches to her toilette and a feminine scent to her room.

Carlo returned and she could tell he'd noticed. His nostrils flared. Then he scowled the way she expected.

"Too bad you never had a sister," she said.

"Why?"

"You would have learned when to compliment a lady and when to hold your tongue. Cheer up, though. You're never too old to learn."

His eyebrow nearest her winged up. "Trolling for a compliment?"

She slipped back into her shoes, his appreciative gaze now focused on her feet.

"Hang on a minute." His hand shook as he invaded her space and adjusted an earpiece he'd placed in her ear.

Tucking her evening purse beneath her arm, she jiggled her hips. "Ready to party, Detective?"

Glaring at her, he visibly swallowed as he stuffed his conference badge in his back pocket. "Bring it on and whatever you do, try not to stand out in the crowd."

"You're no fun."

"I can't help it. I'm dreading these next two hours. How soon do you think we can make a polite exit?"

"Tsk, tsk, Detective. Counting the minutes until you can bolt?"

"The sooner the better, if I'm to keep you alive."

Allison rolled her eyes.

He said, "Ready to go," into his radio and turned to her. "When you hear the officers across the hall step out of Susan's room, unlock your door and step out. I'll secure this room, and go out through my door. Wait for me in the hall."

Giggling about something Marsha said, she and Susan minced out of the room across the hall dressed to the nines.

"My, my, don't you cleanup nicely?" Allison said as her new friends surrounded her, laughing and talking as if none of them had a care. She wholeheartedly wished she had no cares, too.

Allison's heart beat skipped and her throat tightened.

Carlo's hand automatically caressed the butt of his weapon as he stepped out into the hall and moved ahead of them.

Funny how safe his confident movements make me feel.

A door opened farther along the hall and a deep voice from within the darkened room said, "Evening, folks."

She had no doubt more than one pair of eyes followed their progress along the hall, undercover Detective Oscar Hanson among them.
What a hunk!

She liked his eyes. He had honest eyes. No way could he have ever successfully lied to his mother. And when he smiled at Allison she—

With a quiet swish the elevator doors slid open, interrupting her thoughts.

Yanking her inside the empty glass enclosure Carlo asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the ballroom on the second floor again. All the large gatherings will be held there."

He pressed the proper floor and backed with her until they were both leaning against the rear wall of the elevator while Marsha and Susan formed a feminine wall shielding her.

Are those women carrying? I can't imagine how.

The elevator started down and stopped at the fourth floor.

As the doors slid open and two men stepped inside, Carlo's left hand tightened on her waist.
Yes, hold me closer.

The businessmen continued their conversation about good places to eat near the hotel without acknowledging their presence. Carlo's grip on her waist eased.

No, slide your hand back. To my surprise I'm growing accustomed to your protective touch.

Her pulse raced. She tucked her hand in the bend of Carlo's elbow to steady herself.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She gave him a faint smile.
For now, but I'm not certain I'll make it through the rest of the evening without throwing myself in your strong arms.

The elevator again sighed to a halt and the four of them stepped out on the second floor, their badges and party faces firmly in place.

"A hot fudge sundae station and a cheesecake buffet are two of the promised stations. I want a sundae first. What about the rest of you?"

"Lead the way, Carlo," Marsha said.

"No, you lead the way," he stoically countered. "I'll bring up the rear."

So much for having fun.

Allison checked to be sure her badge was visible and waited for the others to do the same and strolled into the crowded room.

"See any suspicious characters?" she asked, glancing around.

"You're more likely to notice an inexperienced bus boy or nervous waiter than we are," Carlo said.

"What age?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, so relax. Enjoy the party and let us worry about watching for the perp."

An hour later, after downing two hot fudge sundaes she'd heaped with nuts and whipped cream, munching tons of roasted cashews, and sipping two small glasses of champagne, she allowed Carlo to extricate her from the party and escort them to the fifth floor.

He'd made a memorable impression on the conference chairman, who even attempted to get her hands on his holstered weapon while Allison stood at his side silently grinding her teeth.

Once Allison introduced him to the master of ceremonies for the evening, the doting woman kept returning to their table to apologize for only providing wine and sodas for the guests.

Do all law enforcement officers prefer beer?

She needn't have worried. The attractive waitresses circulating with trays of delicacies and coffee kept Carlo well supplied and sufficiently distracted to assure he had a good time.

"And to think I'm getting paid to have all this fun," Susan said as she boarded the empty elevator to return to their rooms.

Carlo actually laughed.

––––––––

"T
ell me you have it."

"No... Not yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"The cop I told you about might as well be glued to the woman's side."

"I'll find out who he is and have him assigned somewhere else. Have you searched her room?"

"The passkey I snitched from housekeeping works, but I still couldn't open the door to her room."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep trying. Kick in the damn door if you can't get in any other way."

*****

"I
feel like all we've done all evening is eat," Marsha said, rubbing her flat stomach.

"You should. It
is
all we've done," Allison said while she watched Carlo's gaze follow the slow, circular notion of Marsha's hand.

As the chatting foursome exited the elevator and headed for their rooms he whispered, "Cool it, ladies. A few guests on this floor might be trying to sleep."

Party pooper.

He insisted the women wait in the hall while he did a room check before allowing Allison to enter hers.

Then she and Marsha said good night to Susan. Marsha followed Allison inside while Carlo disappeared into his room.

He returned with her new roommate's luggage. "Is this everything?"

"Susan offered to deliver my cosmetic case and—"

"That must be her at the door. I'll let her in." He did the peephole check, intercepted Marsha's belongings at the partially opened door and shoved them at her with a gruff, "If you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to secure Allison's door and call it a night."

He flipped her lock with more force than she thought necessary and murmured, "Eating might be all you've done, but I've spent those endless hours trying to make sure Allison survives long enough to make both of her presentations."