The Sweetheart Racket (20 page)

S
ummer dragged the mouse around what appeared to be a mishmash of numbers, letters, and symbols and explained in the most confusing technical geek-speak what she was looking at. Taryn's mind went blank. “In English, please.”

Summer grinned. “I forget you don't speak geek.”

Taryn imagined what kind of reception her sexy friend would have if she ever dropped into the middle of a nerd convention where everyone spoke her same language. Mixing her brilliance with her pinup looks, Summer would probably give the drooling nerds strokes.

“I'll speak slowly so you can understand,” Summer teased. “Rick was right about the cyber-stalker. Someone loaded up a program so that anytime a search was made for Teddy Brinkman, any of his known aliases, or Honey, the author got a ping. Then any searches you made after that initial ping were watched by the hacker.”

“Damn. Stalking without hiding in bushes,” Taryn said. She'd have to have Summer clear her laptop of malware. “That's how the shooters knew we'd be at the storage unit. It wasn't just a coincidence.”

“They were probably waiting for us,” Rick said. “The question remains, why? Why would they care if we were searching that unit? Other than the car, there wasn't anything of any worth in there unless you viewed the Pinto as valuable.”

“Unless they didn't know there was nothing in there to steal,” Taryn said. She paced the room. “Is there any way to link the hacker back to the source?”

Summer shrugged. “I can try, but it won't be easy. Whoever set this up did an elaborate cover-up. I might be able to get something, but it may take weeks. If ever. The hacker is good.”

“Then we'll have to narrow down our suspects and find Brinkman and the shooters through deductive reasoning,” Taryn continued without missing a beat.

“Where are you going with this, Sherlock?” Rick crossed his arms and waited.

“Let's see. Who do we have in play? Brinkman, Honey, her two sons, the former wives and their friends and family. The two sons could be the shooters and our burglar. That fits. The former wives would have every right to be angry and could have hired someone to find and take Brinkman out. ” She shifted her eyes to Rick. “But then they wouldn't get their money or property back.”

He frowned. “I've never denied wanting to pound Brinkman, but trust me, my mom doesn't have the means or the contacts to hire a hit man on the side.”

Taryn smiled. “We'll count her out.” She moved on. “We know Jane Clark wants him to suffer and admitted to having friends ready to shoot him, but I think she just wants her painting back. Can we agree that she's low on the suspect list?”

“I agree,” Rick said.

“The other wives could have motive. However, it's unlikely a scorned wife from more than, say, five years ago is involved. They'll cheer if he goes to jail, but probably wouldn't still be actively searching for him.”

“Good point,” Summer said. “I'll check on the wife from Arizona with the website and see what she's been up to, though I suspect she's not our hacker.”

“Then we're back to Honey's sons,” he said. “They'd be protective of their mother and young enough to be in the age group of our shooters. Yet why they'd want to chase us away from the storage unit is a mystery.”

Agreeing with everything, Taryn's brain seized with the complicated puzzle. Although they'd made progress, there were still a lot of questions remaining.

There was an avenue they hadn't gone down. “What if they weren't protecting the car but looking for it?” As soon as the comment left her mouth, the idea took off. “Could they have used us for a lead? If Brinkman stole from Honey, they may be looking for his cache. We led them to the unit.”

“Huh.” Rick rubbed his chin. “They might have been worried we would find his secret stash before they did, and warned us off. It's a stretch but could fit.”

“Of course it fits. You are a genius, Taryn,” Summer said and clapped. “No wonder Irving hired you. It wasn't just because you look good in tight pants.”

Taryn's eyes narrowed. “Thanks. I think.”

“Before we celebrate, we have to figure in the break-in at your house,” Rick said. “What's the point of that?”

This wasn't easy to untangle.

“Unless the sons thought we found a secret treasure in the car,” he added without waiting for an answer. “But what would Brinkman have worth stealing?”

“It could be anything,” Summer said. “Or nothing.”

“I think I need an aspirin.” Taryn closed her eyes and rocked in the chair. “I thought having no clues was frustrating. Now we have lots of clues and we're still missing the middle and hardest part of any puzzle.”

“Like when a third of a puzzle is blue sky,” Summer offered and clicked off the screen. “I'm heading over to see Irving's new plaid golf balls. Anyone else want to come along?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

Sighing, she left.

Rick took her open seat. “I think we should go home, have sex, and think about this later with clear minds.”

Taryn smiled. “Is that line supposed to work with all women, or just me?”

“Just you.” He nudged her chair with his boot. “Many a crime has been solved after sex, a beer, and a hoagie. Just ask J. Edgar Hoover. He closed some big cases in a post-coital haze. I'm sure I read that somewhere.”

“Wrong. I think he solved crimes while wearing pantyhose,” she said and nudged him back. “That's why women are premier problem solvers. Wearing too-tight hose pushes all the blood up to their heads for optimal brain power.”

Rick chuckled. “Then no sex?”

“I never said that.” She stood. “I'll race you to the car.”

* * *

Despite Rick's assurance that sex would solve their case, they were no further ahead than before. “You lied to me. The case is still stagnant in the water.” Taryn ran a hand over his bare chest and teased his nipple. “I think you just wanted sex.”

Rick kicked the sheet off and dislodged Sweet'ums from the bed. The dog growled from the floor. “It would have been better sex if that dog hadn't spent half of it sniffing my balls.”

Taryn laughed. “He was just feeling nostalgic and jealous. He's fixed.”

Laughter deepening, she rolled over and lay half on top of him. He cupped her bare butt. “Next time I'll lock him out. I promise. He just looked too sad when we went to the office without him.”

Rick lifted his head. “Sad? The dog looks like he was hit in the face with a shovel. How can you tell what he's thinking?”

“Be nice.” Despite his outward coolness toward the dog, she was sure she'd seen him rubbing the top of Sweet'ums's head with an index finger when he thought she wasn't looking. That was progress. Soon they'd be sharing a water bowl.

“I let him sniff my balls. I am being nice.”

Taryn almost fell off the bed. As the laughter died a moment later, she turned serious. “Do you really think Honey's boys are behind the shooting and break-in?”

“I do.”

This was hard to argue against. They fit the general description of the shooters. “What would be their reason?” She had her own ideas and wanted to know his.

“Like we discussed, the attack might boil down to retrieving stolen property for Honey. Or maybe Honey is missing and they're trying to find her. This wouldn't be the first time a corpse was found in a storage locker.”

“Nice. Let's not go with that,” she said.

“Or Brinkman could have run off with her. If they discovered his con too late, they could be worried for her safety. Or maybe they thought we were stealing the Pinto. At this point, anything goes.”

His thoughts were similar to hers. They made a good team. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Even if the romance was temporary, she'd take what she could. It was better to have loved and lost than to have never had mind-blowing sex at all. Wasn't that saying embroidered on a pillow somewhere?

For the first time since her divorce, she'd let herself cut loose and have fun with risks. Even Dave the race car driver had been all about getting over her hurt and proving she was still attractive. Now, she was with a man who knew her imperfections and liked her anyway. And she liked him back.

“We need to get up.” She pushed off him. He groaned in protest. “We have thieves to catch.”

T
he mall was emptying out at ten o'clock when Taryn and Rick rolled into the parking lot. She drove around the building twice and picked what she thought was the best place for staking out: a space near Macy's and behind a semi-truck trailer reconfigured into a mobile construction company office. The mall was doing work on the façade on the east end of the building and repaving the lots. She got out of the car, pulled her camera from the trunk, and rejoined Rick inside the Olds.

“We are not to engage, but to observe,” she said. “If we see anything suspicious, we are to call the mall manager.”

The instruction sounded good, but Rick suspected that Taryn seldom followed the directive. “Is that what Irving says?”

“It is.” She checked the camera and settled back in the seat. Dressed all in black, with her hair in a twist at the back of her neck, she looked like an international jewel thief. “He said that if I don't start sticking to that motto, he's going to have it tattooed on my forehead.”

“Smart man. Even you could make that look sexy.” Irving knew Taryn well and obviously tried to rein in his PI. It didn't work.

It wasn't that she was intentionally reckless, she just headed full throttle into everything she did. He admired her for her spunk, as much as it worried him. She could put herself in serious danger someday.

Leaving her at the conclusion of the case meant he wouldn't be around to watch her back. Thinking of leaving her at all left a hard lump in his stomach. Without him around, it meant she'd move on with someone new and no one would steer her clear of the Hunters of the city.

Annoyance welled up in him. He couldn't imagine her with that skirt-chasing cop. She'd already dealt with one cheater in her life. He didn't think she could survive another heartbreak.

Then what was he doing? He'd made her no promises of a future. He couldn't. His job currently had him living in L.A. Her home was here. Even if they tried the whole long-distance thing, odds were against that working out.

At least she wasn't in love with him or him with her. Emotional detachment would work in their favor. Then why did the idea of her with another guy piss him off?

The thought of her naked with another man weighed him down through the next two hours as they sat mostly in silence and waited for something to happen. The idea of her marrying and making kids with someone else really annoyed him.

“How long until we call it a night?” he asked. The car was starting to feel very small.

“I don't know. An hour or two?” Another hour passed. Taryn was twitching on her seat. He knew her well enough to know that patience was not her strong suit. Or his. “I'm going to walk around the mall. Coming?”

She didn't have to ask twice.

* * *

The empty parking lot was quiet but for passing vehicles on nearby I-94 and the soft sound of their boots on blacktop. Rick fell into step beside her as they headed right around the building. Though she didn't think the evening would prove successful, she had to cover all avenues of investigation before heading home.

Despite her earlier attempt to keep him out, she liked him living under her roof, and sleeping in her bed. He'd seen her in the morning at her worst and still found her appealing.

Oddly, she also liked having Alvin around, though she'd never admit it publicly. After forbidding him to ever bake, boil, or roast tongue in her house ever again, she realized that her house felt homey with the big menace in it. At least she didn't have to come home to an empty house.

Not that she wanted him there permanently. Just for now.

The lack of cars in and around the mall further confirmed that the mall thieves were probably tucked in their beds.

“We should have brought Sweet'ums,” she said softly. “He would like the mall. He'd have lots of bushes to defile.”

Rick grunted.

What, no insult about the dog? Rick had been quiet all night. She wondered what he was thinking. What was the point of having a partner, if not to entertain her during a stakeout?

They strolled on. Parking lot lights allowed her to examine his set face, as they neared the building and stopped in front of Macy's. Something had his briefs in a bunch. What?

Soft light spilled out of the tall glass doors. She checked the locks and looked inside. There was no sign of thieves.

She moved on. “Do you realize we've spent most of our time working at night? I'm surprised we haven't run across any vampires. Heck, I'm starting to crave a juicy neck for biting.”

He failed to comment. She tried again. “I'll bet you can't wait to get back to the excitement of breaking down doors and arresting drug dealers.” She glanced inside a restaurant. Nothing untoward. Then back at Rick. “I bet burning up bales of pot makes one hell of a party.”

“Sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. Was he even listening? “Well, look at that. I forgot to put on my panties before we left the house. How could I be so forgetful?”

His head swiveled around. Finally.

“I don't know what's up, but you've been a stone for the last two hours,” she said. “What gives?”

Frowning, he yanked on a mall entrance door. “I didn't know conversation was a requirement of stakeouts. You should have brought Summer.”

Grrr. She should have. Summer would be more fun.

And men thought women were hard to figure out. “Fine. No talking. But if you decide you want to express your feelings, go call one of your beer buddies. Don't come crying to me.”

Although she hadn't quoted him exactly from an earlier conversation, she got the desired response. The scowl faded from his face. “That's really cold, Taryn.”

She smiled. Rick was back.

* * *

“I think we can safely call it a night,” she said eight and a half minutes later, when they hadn't seen anything suspicious. They'd didn't have much more area to cover. Macy's was around the next corner.

She reached into her snug jeans for her car keys. Rick's hand over hers pulled her to a stop.

“I'd hold off for a minute.” She followed his gaze. The front end of a black panel truck peeked out from behind a wall. An engine rumbled.

“That's strange,” she said.

He pulled her into the vestibule of the north entrance of the mall. Muted voices floated over. They couldn't hear what was being said. Rick murmured, “Unless they're part of the cleaning crew, there's no reason for them to be here at this time of night.”

“Let's find out.” Her excitement kicked up a notch. She loved catching bad guys. Clutching the camera, she edged in the direction of the truck.

The voices became louder as they approached. One man was talking about how smoking pot ten times a day had lessened the consistency of his erections, while another swore that wearing his rent-a-cop uniform got him laid more over the last year than the thirty-seven years previous.

As Taryn got close enough to peer around the wall, she wasn't too surprised by what she saw. Jess had figured the thefts were an inside job and that tonight would be the best night for thievery. She'd been right.

A mall security guard stood in blue slacks worn over his pudgy hips; a white shirt stretched to its limit over a beach-ball belly. Pinned to a polyester breast pocket was a name tag and security badge. Dangling from his chin to his chest was a scrappy brown beard that resembled a dead chipmunk.

She wanted to pipe in and tell the guard that his success with the ladies had less to do with the uniform and more with the insecurity and desperation of his dates, but held her tongue. A third man came out of an open brown door, wheeling a trolley piled high with unopened boxes.

“This can't be that easy,” Rick whispered over her shoulder.

“Sometimes, but usually not.” She lifted her camera. “It's a happy day for Brash & Brazen, Inc.”

Rick reached for his gun. “I'll hold them, while you call the police.”

“We can't do that.” At his stare, she explained. “The mall management wants to keep this quiet. They're afraid that they'll lose store rental business if it's discovered that a criminal enterprise was allowed to work out of their property. They want evidence, and the stolen property recovered, and they'll handle the rest on their own.”

“So I can't shoot anyone?”

“Not tonight, cowboy.”

Moving on stealthy feet, she rounded the wall and stepped between the truck and the brick wall. The trolley guy rolled up the ramp into the truck, followed by his two companions. Taryn paused near the back of the truck, pulled off the lens cap, and made sure the camera was on auto mode. The task took less than fifteen seconds.

“Watch a professional at work,” she whispered.

Feeling Rick tense behind her, she grinned and stepped around the truck, and spread her feet for optimal camera steadiness. The men were stacking the boxes in neat rows. She went in for the kill.

“Smile, gentlemen.”
Click. Click. Click
. The digital camera took a full dozen pics of the wide-eyed men and the license plate of the truck before they realized what was happening.

“Fuck!”

Taryn spun. Rick, quickly getting over his own surprise at her move, was already spinning around. They tore off past the truck and out onto the sidewalk.

“Which way?” he shouted.

“Follow me!”

Taryn's two trips around the mall hadn't been just to check for the best place to park, but also to plot out escape routes. Since the thieves may or may not be armed, she had to be cautious. The car was still some distance away, so she opted to hide instead. They rounded JCPenney with the sound of pursuit behind them. She took heart in not getting shot at.

“Why are we running? We're armed!” he called out.

“I'm not allowed to shoot anyone unless I'm in danger!” she said. “If we fight them, they might hurt my camera and we'll lose the evidence!”

Of course, there was the part about the fun of outsmarting idiot criminals that she left out. Rick would discover that soon enough. And if she failed, they did have guns.

Ahead were half a dozen dumpsters. She headed for them.

Rick, sensing her plan, said, “That's the first place they'll look.”

“Just keep up.” She chose the farthest right corner of the two rows and they pushed up the heavy lid. Thankfully, the bin was for recyclables and not rotted food trash from one of the restaurants. “Get in.”

Rick shoved her up and over and joined her, closing the lid quietly, just in time for their pursuers to catch up.

“Check over there,” a man said. “If you find them, I'll filet them like trout.”

Fileted? So much for unarmed criminals.

Taryn and Rick quietly burrowed down beneath the flattened boxes. Taryn sent a quick text to Summer to let her know where they were and turned off her phone. Rick did the same. When she slipped a box over her head, she suddenly felt as if the confined space was closing in. She pushed the box down and reached to move his from his face.

“Do you think we can smother in here?” she whispered. “I think I'm losing oxygen.”

“You're just having a non-fatal panic attack,” he whispered back. “Hold my hand. If you pass out, I'll give you mouth-to-mouth. Or feel you up. That will bring you around.”

Holding back a laugh-snort, she reached out. He took her hand and they slid the boxes back in place. Silently, they listened to lids being opened and dumpsters investigated.

“Fuck! This one smells like your ass, Tommy.”

“Suck it, dickweed!” the insulted man replied.

Dickweed? Was that a native plant?

The first guy chuckled.

“Shut up, assholes.” The guard piped in. “We have to get that camera.” A lid slammed shut. Feet shuffled over to where Taryn and Rick were. She held her breath as the lid popped open. Rick's hand tightened on hers.

The height of the dumpsters wouldn't allow for more than a cursory examination of the contents unless the searcher climbed in. She didn't need to see him to know that Rick had his free hand on his gun, as she did on hers.

“Hold the flashlight.” A scrape of a foot on metal followed, as one of the men tried to boost himself up the side. Then the thief followed with the sound of boxes being shoved around. Taryn held her breath.

“See anything, Phil?”

“I don't see shit.” The box slid backward, almost exposing the top of her head. She tightened her grip on her gun.

Shoes hit concrete. She breathed again. Thankfully, the man had not climbed in.

“They must have gone around the mall.” The trio left. Swearing followed their path. Taryn and Rick stayed put for another twenty minutes, in case it was a ruse to get them to expose themselves. Finally, Taryn relaxed and pushed the boxes off. Sometimes she really loved her job!

“Are you laughing?” Rick said.

“Nope.” She was laughing—shaking with it, actually. She helped uncover him. “Now that was a fun stakeout!”

With parking lot light through the gaps between the lid and the rest of the dumpster, she could see his disbelieving stare. This deepened her giggles. “Come on. When was the last time you were chased around by the Three Stooges?”

Instead of answering, he reached for her wrist, spun her around, and dropped her on the pile of boxes. Covering her with his body, he grinned. “I don't know about the stakeout or the Stooges, but I'm about to do some dumpster diving of my own.”