The Hill (6 page)

She cleared her throat. “I doubt he had a key, or he would've locked the dead bolt behind him, and he didn't do that.”

“Or maybe he didn't lock the dead bolt because he didn't want you know he had a key.”

“We'll come up and have a look.” Jessup tilted his head back to take in the high ceiling of the lobby. “If you're on the top floor of this building, he didn't climb through the window.”

“Jessup, you gotta see this.” Spann looked up from the security desk, over Griff's red face.

London's pulse jumped. “Is he on the video?”

“Not only is he not on it, nobody's on it. The lobby camera hasn't been recording anything all morning.”

London stamped her foot. “That figures. What is the point of having cameras when they're always breaking down?”

“Exactly.” Judd's eyes glittered like chips of agate.

Griff's Adam's apple bobbed in his flushed throat.

Tugging on Judd's sleeve, London said, “Let's show the cops my place. Maybe they can get some fingerprints.”

The officers checked the door and surveyed the mess, but they couldn't get fingerprints or tell her anything more about the break-in. She promised them the complete list of stolen items, but had no hope of getting any of them back.

When the cops left, London collapsed on the couch. “They'll never see my stuff in a pawnshop, will they? That's not why the thief or thieves stole it.”

“You're catching on.” Judd paced in front of her. “They wanted it to look like a burglary, but we both know they just wanted to scare you.”

She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. “They're going to have to do more than that to get me to give up control of BGE.”

“That's what worries me, London. If I don't find these guys now, what else do they have planned for you?”

“They'll slip up—maybe next time.”

“I don't want there to be a next time. I need to find them now.” He punched his fist into his palm. “And I know a good place to start.”

He turned toward the door and she jumped up. “You're not going to harass Griff again, are you?”

His eyebrows spiked. “Harass? He knows something, London. Do you think it's just a coincidence that the cameras failed this morning at precisely the time someone gained entry to the building to break into your place?”

“Wait. You're telling me he's working with these guys?”

“Why is that so hard to believe? The guy has a good pension and benefits from the city and he's still working as a security guard? He obviously needs money.”

He swung open the door and she rushed to follow him. “I'm coming with you so someone doesn't wind up in the emergency room.”

When Judd burst onto the lobby floor, Griff's mouth gaped open.

“What do you want? I told everything to the cops and I'm not saying any more, especially to you.”

Judd lunged over the security desk and grabbed the front of the man's shirt. He pulled him from his chair. “You are going to talk to me—right now.”

Griff choked and coughed. “Let me go.”

Judd shook him like a rag doll and then dropped him in his chair. “Why did you turn that camera off? Who did you let in here? Who paid you?”

Griff scooted his chair back. “You're crazy, violent, just like your old man.”

Wrong thing to say. Griff was either brave or stupid. London held her breath.

That stillness fell over Judd again, and then he whipped around the desk with a quickness and agility that didn't match his size.

He yanked Griff out of his chair again and slammed him against the wall.

Mrs. Schrader and a friend came through the lobby doors and tripped to a stop.

“Everything okay, London?”

“Uh, my place was broken into this morning. The cops are just trying to get some answers from Griff.”

If Mrs. Schrader and her friend wondered at this so-called cop's methods, they didn't seem to want to inquire further. They scurried toward the elevator without a backward glance.

Judd dug his hand into the front pocket of Griff's pants and pulled out a thick envelope. He tossed it onto the desk—a few bills peeked from it.

“Where'd you get that, huh?”

Griff slumped against the wall. “I didn't know they were going to break into your place, London. I swear.”

“What? Someone paid you to let them in the building and then mess with the lobby camera?”

“Yeah.” Griff sank to his chair. “It wasn't the first time, and nothing like a robbery ever happened before.”

“You've done this before?” Judd stepped to the other side of the desk, flexing his fingers.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” London felt like sitting down herself.

He prodded the envelope with his finger. “Money. It's only the paps. That's who I thought it was this time. That's what they told me.”

“The paps?” Judd's eyebrows collided over his nose. “The paparazzi?”

The color rushed into Griff's face again. “They pay good money to get into places like this. Sorry, London. I didn't think there was any harm. They usually just want a few pictures, maybe to dig around your trash. I've worked with Ray Lopez before, and he's a good guy.”

“My trash?” She felt as if she needed a shower.

“It's not just you, London. There are a few others in this building they want. You know who.”

Judd landed his fist on the desk. “This time they wanted to break into her place. What if they wanted to kill someone? Would you be okay with that, too?”

“Kill someone?” He shook his head back and forth. “They just want information, a scoop. You know, like Ray Lopez.”

“The men who broke into London's place weren't paparazzi, you idiot.”

Griff's eyes popped open. “Of course they were. They told me they were.”

“How long were you a cop?” Judd ran a hand through his hair.

“I've done this kind of thing before and never had a problem.”

Judd propped up the wall with his shoulder as if to box Griff in. “What did they look like, these two paparazzi?”

“I—I don't know.”

“What?”

Griff folded his arms over his paunch. “They were wearing disguises. You know, caps, sunglasses, facial hair.”

Judd's mouth fell open. “And you didn't think that was weird?”

“Naw. They do that all the time.” Griff smacked his magazine. “They have to go to extremes to get the good pics.”

“Can you at least write down their height, build, accent...disguises?”

Griff pulled a piece of paper in front of him and started writing.

When he handed the descriptions over, Judd shoved the paper in his pocket and asked, “Did they at least give you back the key?”

“I didn't give them any key.” Griff spread his hands. “I swear, London. They just asked for the number of your place and floor.”

She turned to Judd. “Then they picked the locks?”

“Probably.” Judd hunched over the desk. “Did you see them leave?”

“That was part of the deal. I made myself scarce.” Griff chewed on the side of his thumb. “Do you have to report this to management, London?”

“Griff, it's completely out of my control. The management company has to know there was a burglary in the building and why.”

He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Guess I'll be looking for another gig.”

Judd took her arm. “Let's go back up. I have one more thing I want to check.”

This time when she put the key in the dead bolt, it clicked. “At least they didn't sneak back in while we were downstairs.” She surveyed the mess. “I'll start cleaning up. What else did you need?”

Prowling around the room, checking lamp shades and pictures, Judd answered, “I'm doing a cursory check for bugs—audio and visual. I have equipment that can do a more thorough job, and I'll be bringing that over.”

“Ugh.” London shivered. “That's a creepy thought.”

“I think they broke in today just to give you another scare, make you think twice about stepping into your father's shoes. But if you don't give up, spying on you could be an effective weapon in their arsenal against you. I've dealt with corporate spying before—it's not unusual.”

London dipped her head. If the burglars got a load of the pictures on her laptop, they just might have another weapon in their arsenal against her.

She replaced cushions and reshelved books while Judd continued his search for bugs—much scarier ones than spiders.

When he finished, he stood in the middle of the great room. “I didn't find anything, but I'm going to come back tomorrow with my equipment for a more thorough check.”

Sounded as though he planned to leave—not that she believed she could keep him here forever. “I should be around in the afternoon.”

“Get the locks changed tomorrow as a precaution and leave a new key for me with security.”

“Right. Come whenever you like.” She waved her arms around the room. “I'll keep putting things together tonight.”

“Let me know if you discover anything else missing—or anything out of order.”

“I will. Thanks for everything, Judd. Without your perseverance, we never would've gotten the truth out of Griff.”

“Glad you see it that way.” He scooped up his jacket and helmet. “I'll be in touch tomorrow.”

She closed the door behind him and locked it. If he hadn't been with her today, she would've freaked out walking in on this mess alone. In hiring Judd Brody to have her back, she'd made the first in what she planned to be a long line of good decisions.

London spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up without discovering any other missing items—or bugs.

When her stomach growled for about the hundredth time, she realized she'd completely skipped lunch. She should've invited Judd out for lunch, but she hadn't wanted to be too forward or cross the line with him.

He seemed hung up on their working relationship and she should be hung up on it, too. Professional people knew the line between business and pleasure and adhered to it. If she wanted to step up as the CEO of BGE, she'd better start acting like a professional.

If Judd Brody could keep his lust zipped up while they worked together, so could she.

Her cell phone buzzed and she swept it off the counter, checking the display. “Hi, April.”

“Hi, just checking to see if you're still going to that new club with us tonight.”

London opened the sliding doors to the balcony and stepped outside. “I'm going to pass.”

April wailed, “You're turning into a drudge, London. Gemma's cousin is in from Monte Carlo, and he's really interested in meeting you.”

“Is this the gambler? I bet he's really interested in meeting me.”

“Oh, stop. He has money of his own. Not every man is after your big bucks. Do not tell me you're seriously considering Roger Taylor's proposal. Just because he's über-rich, that doesn't make him a perfect match for you.”

A flash of blue eyes and the revving engine of a Harley made it clear that Roger could never be her perfect match. “Don't worry. I'm not that much of a drudge. Someone broke into my place today and I've spent all afternoon cleaning up—not the best prelude to a night out.”

April gasped. “What did he take?”

“Nothing of importance.” Except that laptop. “But I'm not in any mood to go clubbing.”

“I hear ya. I'll tell you all about the new place and the new man.”

“Have fun, April.” London cradled the phone in her hands and gazed at the lights blinking on in the city. She still needed to eat, but she didn't feel like venturing out and she didn't want to cook. She punched in the number for the local pizza place and ordered a large vegetarian pizza.

By the time the pizza had arrived, she'd taken a quick shower and changed into yoga pants and a light hoodie. She spoke into the intercom. “I'll be right down.”

She grabbed some bills from her purse, locked the door behind her and headed down to the lobby in the elevator.

Jerome, the night security guard, had his eye on the delivery guy as if half expecting him to pull a gun out of the pizza box.

London exchanged the cash for the pizza and thanked the delivery boy.

When he left, she placed the pizza on top of the security desk. “I suppose you heard what happened this morning.”

Jerome shook his head. “I always thought Griff was trouble—him and those celebrity rags. Shoulda figured he'd be one of those guys selling stories and stuff.”

“Do you know if he's been fired?”

“Not sure. I guess we'll find out come eight o'clock tomorrow morning.” Jerome straightened his shoulders. “I hope you know I'd never do anything like that, Ms. Breck.”

“I know that. It's just crazy Griff didn't think about the consequences.”

He pointed to the pizza box. “No fancy shindig tonight, huh?”

“I don't know, Jerome.” She wrapped her fingers around the edges of the pizza box. “I think my fancy shindig days are over.”

She carried the pizza up to her place and settled it on the kitchen counter. She had a few files to go over before tomorrow's shareholder meeting and would try not to get tomato sauce on them.

A few hours later, she put the leftover pizza into the fridge and scrunched her paper plate in the trash.

Her phone buzzed again, once. If April thought she could talk her into going out, she had it all wrong, even if the man from Monte Carlo had turned out to be a winner.

She washed her hands and retrieved her phone to check the text message.
Take out the trash.

Her brow furrowed. Who had sent that? She squinted at the display—blocked. Must be a wrong number.

The text indicator buzzed again and she smirked. Some husband was going to be in big trouble tonight for not taking out the trash.