Blind Faith (15 page)

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Authors: Christiane Heggan

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: Blind Faith
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He held up the bottle.
"All right if I open the wine?"

She made a grand gesture toward the kitchen. "By all means, make yourself at home."

She didn't follow him but watched through the wide opening over the breakfast counter. He had never set foot in her house before tonight and yet he looked as though he belonged here. Even searching for a corkscrew and glasses took him only seconds.

There were other sounds, a rattle or two,
then
he was back with their drinks. "I put the food in the oven on low." He handed her one of the glasses.

"You're a regular Betty Crocker."

"Thank you." He raised his glass in a salute and took a sip, nodding in appreciation. "Excellent."

With no snappy reply coming to mind, Kelly took a sip as well. It was her favorite wine--a
California
sangiovese
she had discovered during a trip to her uncle's
Napa
Valley
winery last year. It took all her willpower not to ask how he knew.

"Now."
Nick leaned against the armrest of an easy chair.
"About
Miami
.

I owe you an explanation."

"And an apology, but you can start with the explanation."

He gave a gallant bow of his head. "You'll have both." He met her gaze, his expression suddenly serious. "When I got back to the Roundhouse on Tuesday, Captain Cross had just heard from Detective Quinn."

"I told you he'd call."

"Yes, you did." He took another sip of his wine. "Cross immediately called Cecily Sanders and assured her the PPD would cooperate with the
Miami
police in every possible way. Then he assigned me to the case."

So he had gone to
Miami
on official business after all. "And that's why you came here tonight? To tell me Cross had assigned you to the case?"

"No. I wanted to tell you why I'm personally interested in Jonathan Bowman's disappearance."

Maybe it was the wine, but Kelly felt herself mellow, just a little.

"I'm listening."

"I think Jonathan's disappearance is connected in some way to my father's death a year ago."

"Because both men worked at the
Chenonceau
."

He lowered his glass. "You made the connection, too?"

"The thought occurred to me." She sat on the edge of the other chair.

"What else makes you think the two incidents are connected?"

"One of my father's greatest qualities--or greatest flaws, depending on how you look at it--was his curiosity. That's what made him such a good cop. When he latched onto something, he didn't let go until he had all the answers.

"The last few days before his death, his mood changed. He was quieter, and seemed preoccupied. He also started working overtime, even though he didn't have to. Between his policeman's pension and his salary, he had more money than he could ever spend. When I questioned him about it, he said that the extra work gave him something to do. I should have known something was wrong right there and then. Filling out his spare time had never been a problem before. On the contrary, he never seemed to have enough hours in the week for his hobbies--fishing, playing cards with his friends, tending to his garden."

"So why do you think he did it?"

"That's where I screwed up."

She couldn't imagine Nick
Mcbride
screwing up on anything. He was too good a cop for that. "What do you mean?"

"I was working around the clock, trying to crack the Patterson murder case and I didn't pay enough attention to the signals my father was sending me. If I had ..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Kelly knew what he had been about to say. Her heart filled with compassion. Assuming the blame for a loved one's death was a terrible cross to bear. Now she understood why he had tried so hard to solve his father's murder last year, and why he had jumped at the chance to investigate Jonathan's disappearance.

"You think your father had an ulterior motive for wanting to work the extra shifts?" she asked.

"The executive offices are empty at night, easy to access for an insider and easy to search."

She watched him closely. "Search for what?"

"I don't know, but something must have made him suspicious." He looked at the ceiling. "If only he had come right out and told me what was bothering him. I could have helped him. Now I'm rumbling in the dark, making guesses I can't back up."

"Maybe there was nothing to tell." She was offering him a lifeline, something that would ease the guilt.

Nick shook his head. "My gut feeling tells me differently."

"But even if your father was suspicious, he didn't find anything, did he? Surely if he had he would have told you."

"Or maybe he did find something and was killed before he had a chance to do anything about it."

Kelly was thoughtful. His theory had merit--so far. "What about Jonathan's disappearance? How do you connect it to your father's death?"

"As vice president, Jonathan has access to records and information he never had when he was general manager of the
Chenonceau
.

He could have stumbled over some sensitive documents, something so incriminating it could have put
Syd
Webber behind bars."

"What are you saying? That
Syd
Webber killed Jonathan? Or had him killed?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Shaken, Kelly remained silent. She was well aware of Nick's personal vendetta against
Syd
Webber and his belief that the casino owner knew more about Patrick
Mcbride's
death than he let on. Was it possible that his hatred for the man was affecting his judgment?

"All right," she conceded. "You have my attention. But even if you're right, how do you explain Jonathan's presence in
Miami
? If
Syd
Webber wanted to get rid of Jonathan, and I'm not saying he did, why would he do it in
Miami
?"

Nick stood up and walked over to the fireplace. After watching the flames for a moment, he turned around. "Maybe Jonathan was never in
Miami
."

Seventeen.

Kelly stared at Nick, momentarily thrown off,
then
shook her head. "I had my doubts too when I flew down yesterday, but I don't anymore. You see, I have absolute proof that Jonathan was in
Miami
, and at
Magdalena
's condo."

Surprised, he pulled his head back a little. "You do?"

She told him about the Chinese snuff bottle that had been missing from
Victoria
's shop and where it had finally reappeared. This time he was quiet, lost in his thoughts. She could almost see that sharp mind of his analyzing what he had just heard, trying to make it fit with what he already knew and suspected. "Where is the snuff bottle now?" he asked after a while.

"I gave it back to
Victoria
."

"It'll have to be checked for fingerprints."

"I know. We handled it very carefully." She studied his face for a moment, not sure what to make of this sudden change in him, his friendliness, his willingness to share information. He hadn't really explained that, had he?

"Something wrong, Kelly?"

"No. Yes."

He smiled. "Which is it?"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

"I told you. Captain Cross assigned me to the case and I thought--"

"Being assigned to the case wouldn't have changed the way you felt about me. And we both know that you don't need me to conduct this investigation." She wanted to add, "And I don't need you to conduct mine," but she would have been lying. "So what
gives.
Nick? And don't tell me I'm wrong. I have gut feelings too. And they seldom let me down."

"In other words, you smell a rat."

"You could say that."

Still standing by the fire, he took the poker from its rack and gave one of the logs a little jab. There was a burst of orange flames and a hiss as the log collapsed, igniting the others. "I might as well tell you.

It'll be out soon enough anyway."

"What will?"

"Matt
Kolvic
was part of that protection racket in
Chinatown
."

The words took a while to register. "I don't understand. I thought he was doing undercover work."

Nick turned around.
"On the surface.
In truth he was on the mob's payroll."

Kelly remembered Matt's funeral, which she had watched on TV. The police commissioner had been there.
So had the mayor.
Both had praised Detective
Kolvic
for his dedication to the force, his bravery and the ultimate price he had paid for trying to keep the city of
Philadelphia
safe. "My God, Nick, are you sure?"

"Patti found twenty-five thousand dollars in a safe she didn't know he had. There was also a notebook with names, dates and amounts."

Kelly was crestfallen as her thoughts turned to the widow and her two little girls.
"Poor Patti.
What will this do to her?"

"That kind of publicity is never pleasant. Fortunately, Patti is moving to
Ohio
to stay with her parents for a while.
Maybe permanently."

"Does it have to come out?
About Matt?"

He gave her an odd look as though he hadn't expected her to say that.

"I'm afraid so. Captain Cross is trying to keep the whole thing as low-key as possible, but that won't be easy now that the case had been turned over to Internal Affairs."

He put the poker back. "I wish I had known what he was doing. I could have helped him."

"That's why I tried to call you that night," Kelly said softly. "I never intended to turn him in."

"I know that now. I was bullheaded and insensitive. I'm sorry."

She inclined her head but didn't say anything.

"Now it's your turn to come clean."

She gave him a blank look.

"I know about those two officers, Kelly, and how they've been harassing you."

"Oh, that." She waved her hand in dismissal. Her problems seemed so trivial compared to what Patti
Kolvic
was going through. "Don't worry about it."

"I won't have to. I talked to Officers
Demaro
and Swan and I can promise you you've received your last ticket. But I am worried about the vandalism to your house. The two officers swear they had nothing to do with that."

"How did you find out my house had been vandalized?"

"Apparently your neighbor across the street saw something suspicious one night and called the police."

She laughed.
"For all the good that did."

"I know the call wasn't answered. I'm very sorry about that, Kelly. It won't happen again." He came to stand in front of her. "Who would want to vandalize your house?"

"I don't know." She had been so sure the PPD was behind those incidents.
 
Now that they weren't, she didn't know what to think, or how to protect herself from a faceless enemy.

"Was there anything else besides the vandalism?"

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Yesterday I found a threatening note in my mailbox."

He stiffened. "Where is it?"

She went into the kitchen, took the folded sheet of yellow paper from a drawer and came back. * "I asked a neighbor if he had seen anyone around my house, but he hadn't."

She handed him the note and he read it, his expression blank. After a while, he slid it into his pocket. "We have a document unit at the department that specializes in analyzing paper, tracing its origin, testing it for fingerprints. I'll take it there myself first thing tomorrow morning."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He straightened up and flashed that smile again. "Now, what do you say we attack that
Hunan
beef I have in the oven? I'm starved."

As they ate, Kelly found out that Nick's presence in the alley in
Miami
hadn't been the result of luck alone. The owner of Salamander lived in that dilapidated building and after talking to him. Nick had wanted to take a look at his apartment, hoping to find some sort of incriminating evidence. He had been about to leave, empty-handed, when he'd heard the scuffle down below.

As they talked, Kelly was reminded of their earlier friendship, when she had depended on him for information, and vice versa. She could feel the trust between them building again, getting stronger.

Nick picked up a fortune cookie and cracked it open. "About those two men who attacked you," he said. "You'll be glad to know they've both been arrested."

"So soon?"

"Thanks to that broken jaw.
Jimmy Higgins, known to his friends as "Tiny," had to seek medical attention. He and
Paulie
were arrested almost immediately."

"I hope they're both in pain."

"Excruciating, from what Quinn told me."

"Is there any chance they're connected to Jonathan's disappearance?"

Nick shook his head. "Quinn checked them out. They're just two thugs with a half-dozen priors. They won't be going anywhere for a while." He read the fortune cookie and handed it to her.

Kelly read it out loud. '"Your eloquence has a persuasive impact."" She laughed. "I'll buy that."

"Open yours."

"Don't tell me you believe in that stuff."

"Of course I do. Open it."

She did, cracked the crisp cookie and pulled out the thin strip of paper. "

"Love will set you free." Now I know that's a crock."

Nick picked up a piece of cookie and ate it. "You're not a cynic, are you?"

"About love?
A little."

An hour later, the food finished and the dishes cleaned, Kelly walked Nick to the door. "You talked to Quinn when you arrived in
Miami
, didn't you?"
 
she
asked as they reached the door. "You're the reason he became so cooperative all of a sudden."

"You're giving me too much credit. The truth is
,
Quinn isn't as tough as he looks."

"He's a bear."

"Don't tell him that. He's got a big enough head already."

She waited until he was outside and had reached the last step before asking, "How did you know
sangiovese
is my favorite wine?"

"Don't you remember? That's what you drank the night you and I had dinner at
San
Remo
. Later, your mother told me your uncle made it and you loved it."

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