LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

wrinkled trench coat during cooler, rainy weather. The former police officer admitted to being forty-seven, a confirmed bachelor and a recovering alcoholic. Tall and gangly with smooth sable-brown skin, the man’s innocuous appearance was a foil for a sharp mind that noted details most people were likely to overlook.

      “Where do you want to eat?”

      Eli put on a pair of sunglasses, then ran a hand over his stubbly pate. “I had a big breakfast, so I don’t need anything too heavy.”

      Rhett rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “There’s a new restaurant on Massachusetts that features salads and wraps and vegetarian dishes. We can try it if you want.”

      Eli smiled. “Let’s try it.”

      “What do you have for me?” Rhett asked after he and Eli gave the waitress their orders.

      Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Eli pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “See for yourself.” He pushed it across the table.

      Rhett unfolded the page of type. His expression didn’t change as he read the information the investigator had come up with on Trey Chambers. “He’s a busy boy,” he murmured. “No wonder his business is in the toilet.”

      Eli picked up a glass of sweet tea, taking a long swallow. “What I didn’t include in that report is that Chambers spends a lot of time at the track.”

      Rhett digested this information as he counted the number of boards on which Trey Chambers either chaired or was a member. What surprised him was Eli’s claim that Trey had a gambling problem. When they were in college together he hadn’t remembered the business major gambling. Even when coeds were placing bets during March Madness, Trey hadn’t participated.

      “Is he winning or losing?”

      Eli shrugged his shoulders under his jacket. “Both. He made a bundle betting on the Derby and Preakness, but we’ll have to see what he does with the Belmont Stakes.”

      “Trey was never much of a gambler.”

      A sly smile parted the lips of the man whose decorated law enforcement career had ended after he’d been injured in a hit-and-run when he’d gone out early one morning to buy the newspaper. He’d lain in a coma for several months; when he’d emerged he submitted his retirement papers and went into private investigation. “Trey’s daddy is no longer collecting wives, but horses. That could explain Junior’s sudden interest in the ponies.”

      Rhett wanted to tell Eli that if the Chambers were winning at the track, they weren’t putting it back into their real estate business. Chambers Properties owned large parcels of land in Baltimore and D.C., and there was one tract not far from Baltimore Harbor that Chambers wanted. Rhett, also interested in the property, had submitted a bid.

      The waitress approached the table, setting down a plate with a tuna salad with sprouts on a bed of lettuce for Eli and a bowl of Caesar salad for Rhett.

      Over lunch, the topic of conversation changed to sports—baseball and the upcoming football season. The two men talked about trades and drafts, becoming more animated when they argued good-naturedly about teams they predicted would win the World Series and Super Bowl. Most of the lunch crowd had thinned out when Rhett paid the check and slid an envelope across the table.

      Eli picked up the envelope, peering into its contents. “What’s up with the cash?” Rhett usually gave him a check as payment for his services.

      “Think of it as a mid-year bonus.”

      Lines of consternation were etched into Eli’s forehead. “A bonus for what?”

      Rhett wanted to tell the man to take the money and stop asking so many questions, but he knew once a cop always a cop. He didn’t want Eli to think he was trying to set him up, which was why he always paid him with a check and at the end of the year issued a 1099 for his personal services.

      “It’s a little extra for reuniting me with my old girlfriend.”

      Eli’s expression brightened. “If that’s the case, then I’ll humbly accept your mid-year bonus.”

      Backing away from the table, the men walked out of the restaurant, going in opposite directions. Rhett walked back to where he’d parked his car. Instead of driving to the hotel, he headed in the opposite direction. A quarter of an hour later, he maneuvered into the parking lot across the street from New Visions Childcare.

      “How long will you be gone?” the attendant asked.

      “Less than half an hour,” Rhett said, handing the man the keys to his late-model Mercedes Benz sedan.

      Crossing the street, he opened the door to the one-story brick building and walked into a reception area. Recessed lighting illuminated the space with a warm glow while the calming green paint with an alphabet border added a festive touch. Rhett had also noticed several security cameras were positioned inside and outside the facility.

      A young woman sitting behind a glassed partition was on the phone arguing with someone who wanted to pick up a child, but didn’t have authorization. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins, but rules are rules. If you submit official documentation from the court, then we’ll be able to release your son to you. You have a good day, too.” She stuck out her tongue at the telephone console before realizing someone was watching her.

      Rhett smiled as she slid back the glass. “I’m here to see Ms. Denise Eaton.”

      The receptionist, who had long airbrushed nails, gave him a bored look. “Is she expecting you?”

      “No, she isn’t. Can you please let her know Garrett Fennell would like to see her?”

      “Ms. Eaton usually won’t see anyone without an appointment.”

      “I’m certain she’ll see me.” There was a ring of confidence in the statement.

      “What’s your name again?”

      “Garrett Fennell.”

      He stared at the woman’s long nails, which reminded him of talons, as she tapped the buttons of the telephone console, and spoke quietly into her headset. She pushed another button. “Please have a seat, Mr. Fennell. Ms. Eaton will be with you shortly.”

      Rhett sat on a decorative wrought-iron back bench and thumbed through a magazine from a stack on a low side table. He smiled at the picture of an infant staring back at him on the glossy cover. Flipping through the magazine, he found an article about coping with temper tantrums. Halfway through the article, the receptionist told him Ms. Eaton was now available to see him.

      He walked toward the door with a sign that said you had to see the receptionist before being buzzed in. He pushed open the door when the buzzer sounded, coming face-to-face with a very different Denise Eaton.

      Chapter Four

      When Denise left Rhett standing on the curb, she hadn’t expected to see him again until Saturday. Less than twenty-four hours later he had surprised her again.

      “Have you come to renege on our deal?”

      Denise had spoken so softly Rhett had to strain to hear what she was saying. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want out?”

      “Did I say I wanted out?” Denise found it hard to breathe. She was standing in a hallway, less than two feet from Rhett Fennell, whose presence seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She lowered her gaze rather than let him see her lusting after him. And that was exactly what she’d fantasized about the night before. She’d gone to bed thinking of Rhett, which was enough to trigger an erotic dream. When she awoke, it was to a pounding heartbeat and a pulsing between her legs that left her wet and moaning in frustration.

      “Come to my office, and we’ll talk.”

      Denise had invited Rhett to her office when what she’d wanted was to show him the door. They had struck a deal to see each other on weekends only.

      Rhett

Скачать книгу