Mad, Bad and Blonde (20 page)

“Me? You’re the one who keeps getting in the way of my investigation. Why are you doing that? To prevent me from finding out what really happened?”

“I could say that you are obstructing my investigation,” she said.

“Does your daddy know yet that you’re sticking your nose into this case?”

The look on her face was answer enough. “Which should prove I’m not doing anything on his behalf,” she said.

“No, it just means you’re sneaking around behind his back.”

“Pitiful,” a new gravelly voice stated. “You call yourselves investigators? Amateurs. I hate dealing with amateurs.”

Chapter Twelve

“ Who
the hell are you?” Caine demanded.

“I’m a much better investigator than the two of you, that’s for dang sure. The name’s Buddy Doyle, and I’ve been working as a gumshoe long before either one of you was born. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame was my great-grandfather.”

Faith was impressed. “Really?”

“Nah, but it makes a good story.”

Buddy was a study in gray: gray cardigan, gray sweat-pants, gray hair. He looked old and cranky, like one of those garden gnomes out to make trouble. His vivid blue eyes displayed his aggravation, while the wrinkles on his face said this was a man who’d seen it all and hadn’t been impressed by any of it.

“Are you saying you’re investigating my father’s case? Who hired you?” Caine demanded.

“I’m not saying anything. You two have done enough talking for an army. Amateurs.” Buddy shook his head.

“What’s your connection to this case?” Caine said.

“You’re an investigator,” Buddy replied. “You figure it out.”

“I will. But it would save time if you told me now.”

“Is that your way of saying that I’ve got one foot in death’s doorway and the next foot on a banana peel?” Buddy said.

Caine blinked, clearly unfamiliar with the saying. “Huh?”

“I hired Buddy,” Weldon said, reappearing as quickly as he’d disappeared.

“It’s none of their beeswax, kid,” Buddy told Weldon, putting a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder while continuing his glare at Caine and Faith.

“That one says he’s Karl’s son,” Weldon said, pointing at Caine.

“Show me some ID,” Buddy told Caine before turning to Faith. “And what about you, cupcake? Who do you claim to be?”

“Her name is Faith West,” Caine said on her behalf. “Her father owns West Investigations.”

Buddy’s bushy eyebrows rose. “The bozos who messed up the investigation and pinned the blame on Karl?”

“Did you know my father?” Caine asked.

“No, but I know Weldon, and he says Karl the Chemist was innocent. I believe him.”

“Based on what facts?” Faith demanded.

“The fact that Weldon says Karl didn’t do it,” Buddy replied.

“Then how do you explain the fact that a sizable amount of money ended up in an offshore account in Karl’s name?” Faith demanded.

“Part of the scam,” Buddy said. “Did you bother to see where that money is now?”

Faith nervously nibbled on her bottom lip. “Well . . . uh . . . no . . . uh, not yet.”

“It was transferred out within hours of my father’s death,” Caine said.

“By you?”

“No, not by me.”

“I don’t understand,” Faith said. “Who else had access to that account? I didn’t see anyone else’s name on it.”

“It was transferred to a holding company, which transferred it to another holding company,” Caine said. “Pretty complicated paper trail.”

“Karl barely had the patience to balance his own checkbook,” Weldon said. “He was not a banking expert. No way.”

“Wasn’t your ex-fiancé a banker?” Caine asked Faith.

“Yes, but he couldn’t have had anything to do with this case. I hadn’t even met him yet when the situation with your father occurred. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d be involved. You’re not being logical.”

“She’s probably right, but I’ll check it out anyway,” Buddy said. “What’s this bozo’s name?”

“Alan Anderson,” Caine said.

She smacked Caine’s arm. Hard. “Stop doing that.”

He didn’t even blink let alone flinch. “Doing what?”

“Answering for me,” she said. “I can speak for myself.”

“Maybe we should go inside,” Weldon said nervously. “And talk about things.”

“And eat,” Buddy said. “I’m starving.”

“Some of the food here may be a little too spicy for you,” Weldon said.

“You mean for an old geezer like me? Don’t you worry. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach.” Buddy patted his abdomen proudly.

They entered the crowded establishment and were shown to a table for four in the back. Studying the menu, Faith asked Weldon, “I see they describe themselves as specializing in Indian and Nepali cuisine. What are some of your favorites?”

“Vegetable korma, any kind of curry, aloo ghobi. And of course the naan and the raita and all the condiments.”

They ordered an assortment of appetizers for starters—from vegetable samosa to chicken momo, dumplings filled with grilled chicken marinated in garlic, ginger and Nepali spices. They also added a selection of tandoori appetizers at Weldon’s insistence.

“Tandoori is marinated meat cooked in a very hot tan-door, which is a clay oven with a really hot fire inside,” Weldon said.

“The kid knows all kinds of trivia like that,” Buddy said proudly.

“So does Faith,” Caine said.

For their main courses, Faith and Caine both ordered the tandoori roasted chicken. The more adventurous Buddy ordered the spicy shrimp vindaloo, while Weldon went with his favorite, the spicy kerala fish curry.

The appetizers were a big hit, but it was the main course that really made an impression . . . on Buddy.

“Son of a . . . buck!” Buddy reached for his bottle of Bud even as his eyes watered and his face turned red. “That’s hot!”

“I tried to warn you,” Weldon said.

“I know. That was close. I almost broke my vow. I gave up cursing, you know,” Buddy said.

“For Lent? We’re past that now,” Weldon said.

“Not for Lent. For good,” Buddy said.

“An interesting choice,” Caine said. “Why’d you make it?”

“It’s personal,” Buddy growled in that gravelly voice of his. “Let’s stick to the case. I’m assuming we all know that Fred Belkin died of a brain tumor last year.”

“Was there anything suspicious about his death?” Caine asked.

“Not that I could find. Why?” Buddy asked. “What are you thinking? That someone is knocking off everyone involved with the biofuel project?”

“That would include me,” Weldon said with a gulp.

“Don’t panic yet, boyo,” Buddy told him.

“I know you think Karl wasn’t guilty, but do you think he would commit suicide?” Faith had to ask.

“I don’t know,” Weldon said.

“Why have you been hiding out, Weldon?” Faith said. “Avoiding your apartment and work?”

“Because someone has been following me.”

“You were already out of your apartment and off work when I started trailing you,” Faith said.

“Same here,” Caine said. “Did you see the person trailing you?”

“No, but I did,” Buddy said. “Unfortunately I didn’t get a good look at him. Medium height, medium build, his shoulders were a little hunched like he spent time bent over books or something. He didn’t have the military bearing that Caine here has.”

“Unless Caine is going undercover,” Faith said. “In which case he can hunch his shoulders with the best of them.”

“You were in the Marines, right, Caine?” Buddy said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I was in the army myself,” Buddy said. “You Devil Dogs are a crazy bunch.”

“We like to think so, sir.”

“So where are you staying now, Weldon?” Faith asked.

“Somewhere safe,” Buddy said.

“What about the other guy? Nolan? Could he be following you?” Caine asked.

“I doubt it,” Weldon said. “Yeah, he was angry that the project was canceled after Karl’s death. The company that stole the information went bankrupt and never followed up on the biofuel ideas.”

“Nolan is still in the area,” Faith said. “And he’s still working as a chemist in the biofuel field. Have you talked to him, Weldon?”

“No. We never really got along very well.”

“He’s a prick,” Buddy said. “I tried talking to him and didn’t get anywhere.”

“Maybe he’d talk to me,” Faith said.

“Why?” Buddy asked. “Because you’re a woman?”

“And a former librarian,” Caine said.

Buddy raised both bushy eyebrows. “No kidding. I’m impressed. But I doubt Nolan would be.”

“It can’t hurt to try,” Faith said.

“Unless he’s the one who framed Karl,” Buddy said. “In which case he could hurt you quite badly.”

“We’ll go talk to him together,” Caine said.

“Maybe we should just speak to him over the phone,” Faith said.

“Good luck with that,” Buddy said. “He ignored all my calls. I had to go see him. He was not a happy camper.”

“Let me take care of Nolan,” Caine said.

Faith gave him a look. “We’re in this together, remember?”

“You seem like strange partners to me,” Buddy said.

“We’re not partners,” Caine said.

“What are you then? Rivals?”

“No,” Faith said. “It’s . . . well, it’s sort of complicated.”

“I can see that.”

“I’d like to make a toast.” Weldon raised his glass. “To Karl, the comic chemist.”

They all raised their glasses. “To Karl.”

“Did he tell you those chemistry jokes at work?” Caine asked Weldon.

He nodded. “What do chemists call a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon atoms?”

“A ferrous wheel,” Caine said with a grin. “Why do chemists like nitrates so much?”

“Because they’re cheaper than day rates,” Weldon said with a matching grin.

Buddy groaned.

“What is the dullest element?” Weldon said.

“Bohrium,” Caine said triumphantly before giving Weldon a fist bump.

“Those are good memories,” Weldon said wistfully.

“Yeah,” Caine said.

“Bad jokes, though,” Buddy grumbled.

As they all laughed, Faith was left wondering whose dad—hers or Caine’s—would ultimately be found guilty. The possibility that her dad might have botched the investigation wiped the smile right off her face. Because that gut feeling she’d had in the beginning that something was off with the way this case was handled just kept increasing bit by bit. In addition to that, she still didn’t know if her dad was cheating on her mom. She needed to find the truth on both issues.

On Monday, Faith met up with Caine a block from their respective office buildings.

“Didn’t want to risk being seen by your father, huh?”

“He was already suspicious that I took off an hour early.”

“I told you I could handle Nolan myself.”

“And I said we need to do this together.”

“Because we don’t trust one another. I see you’ve donned your undercover geek attire,” she said.

“Sometimes you talk like a show on PBS.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s kind of cute.”

She didn’t want to be cute. She wanted to be strong. “You know the cover story, right?”

“Right.”

Nolan didn’t live far from the downtown campus of the University of Chicago. It was a bit of a trek, but it was a nice day, so they walked it. Caine was unusually quiet. So was she. Her thoughts were focused on the role she’d be playing in this scenario.

They reached Nolan’s home and waited outside until he arrived. She knew from her research that he always came home at the same time every evening, which made her plan easier. Sure enough, he showed up right on time. She approached him with her hand out.

“Dr. Nolan Parker?”

He nodded and ignored her hand.

“Hello, sir,” Faith said. “My name is Andrea Morehead, and I’m writing an article about research chemists in the Chicago area who are working on biofuel projects. I’d love to interview you for the article. I tried calling you, but your voice mail was full.”

“Right. I’ve been meaning to fix that. I’ve been too busy.” With his receding hairline, rimless glasses and big ears, Nolan reminded her a bit of one of the Teletubbies. The yellow one.

“I’m on a very tight deadline for this article, so if you want to be included, I’d have to interview you right now,” she said.

“Who’s he?” Nolan pointed at Caine.

“He’s my photographer.”

“This is very unusual.”

“I understand. I just thought I’d give you a chance to be included in this article featuring the best and the brightest. But if you don’t have the time . . .”

“I didn’t say I didn’t have the time. No article about the best and the brightest would be complete without me.”

The guy clearly didn’t lack self-confidence.

“I can spare you a few minutes.” He made the simple words sound condescending. “We can talk out here.”

They stood on the brick steps leading to his building. He didn’t invite them in. Why not? What was he hiding?

“My wife has the flu. I don’t want to disturb her,” Nolan said.

“Okay.” Faith started with the easy stuff, his background, where he went to university. She’d done her research on him, so she knew a lot already. “I understand you worked at the American Research Corporation for a time.”