Divine Intervention (12 page)

Lately, however, the beautiful blue-eyed Russian was on his mind…more than he cared to admit.

Damn you, Ben!

Benjamin Roberts was on Natassia's mind too.

Trapped in a musty taxi with no air conditioning, she wondered why Ben had been assigned to Gibney while she was stuck with the lecherous old men and snobbish society women on Baker's party list.

Jasi would certainly get a piece of her mind too, Natassia thought.

Frickin' politicians!

If they weren't staring at her cleavage, they were winking at her. Most of the Premier's male supporters and political cohorts were men in their seventies and eighties.

Playing hooky from a graveyard.

The men were members of a pretentious group―one that believed in their own importance. The wives were no different with their polished acrylic nails, double-D-cup breast implants and 'extreme makeover' liposuctions and face-lifts.

The taxi took a corner and steered closer to her destination. Every now and then, Natassia eyed the streets―and the meter.

She pursed her lips in disgust.

If she had to interview one more pair of fake grape-colored eyes, compliments of SEE, she'd gag. She couldn't understand why women went for the fake look when they could get a more natural sectional eye enhancement.

Like her own.

Everyone believed the dark blue color of her eyes was natural, but she had taken a trip to a SEE office before transferring to Vancouver. Three thousand dollars and an hour later she went from brown eyes to blue.

Natassia surveyed her schedule.

Fifty-three people on Baker's list lived all over BC and had already given their statements via phone or data-com. Eight couples had lived nearby so Natassia had arranged a taxi to drive her for the day. She was now down to the last three people.

That's when she noticed that Martin and Lydia Gibney's names were at the bottom.

Oh well, Ben would take care of them.

Consulting her notes from the other interviews, she exhaled in disappointment.

Not one solid lead. Crap!

In fact, the only thing she could confirm was that the Premier had left the party before midnight to take a phone call. Every guest was positive they had seen Baker during the evening. The problem was no one was sure what time he had returned to the ballroom. His guests thought they had seen him off and on throughout the party and the hotel staff could only confirm that at around 2:20 a.m. Baker had notified the front desk that the ballroom had been vacated.

Natassia rolled down the window. She needed air.

Scrolling to the last name on her data-com, she let out a breath. She was almost finished.

Alyssa Bines was the final person on her list.

The taxi dropped Natassia off at
Tim Horton's
. The restaurant was peaceful and cheery. The scent of freshly made donuts and strong coffee lingered in the air. Thankfully, the morning rush of executives and homemakers was over.

She selected a table near a window.

Glancing around the room, Natassia noticed a young man slumped in a far corner booth. His long bangs hung in his eyes while he read college crib notes―cramming for an exam, by the look of the coffee cup graveyard on his table.

Other than the kid, she was alone.

Natassia was pouring over her field notes when a hesitant voice interrupted her.

"Agent Prushenko? Sorry I'm late."

She peered up to see a woman in her twenties standing beside the table.

Alyssa Bines was a natural beauty. Her long strawberry-blond hair was secured with a silver clasp at the nape of her neck. She wore a two-piece Vera Wang creation in a pale shade of coral. Her makeup was fresh and light.

The most noticeable thing about her, though, was her infectious grin.

"No problem, Miss Bines. I needed a few cups of caffeine anyway."

"Alyssa," the woman stated firmly before sitting. "
Miss Bines
sounds so…uppity."

Raising one eyebrow in surprise, Natassia grinned and activated her data-com.

This one was different from the other society
queens
.

A waitress brought them two vanilla lattes while Alyssa made herself comfortable.

"I've never been questioned by the CFBI before," the woman giggled.

Natassia nudged the data-com closer to the woman.

"Can you repeat your name, address and phone number, Alyssa?"

The young woman gave the information, then asked, "Is this about Premier Baker's father?"

"How'd you guess?"

Alyssa glanced excitably over her shoulder.

Then she hunched forward, chewing her bottom lip.

"Have you talked to Lydia Gibney yet? She could tell you a thing or two."

"My partner is handling the Gibneys."

Alyssa responded with a loud snort. "That husband of hers―Martin? He hasn't got a clue."

"What do you mean?"

Alyssa peered over the rim of her coffee cup.

"I don't like to gossip but…"

She paused for effect, then shrugged and laughed.

"Okay, so I
do
like to gossip. Anyway, the night of the party at the hotel I saw Lydia and Premier Baker
together
."

Natassia's head snapped to attention. "What do you mean,
together
?"

Alyssa smiled suggestively. "You know…t
ogether
, together."

She took a long drag of her latte.

"I was invited to the party because my father is a major contributor to the Premier's campaign. I've been to tons of these things. Most of the time they're a bore. Stuffy old people."

"Once in a while I get lucky," the woman said mischievously.

Natassia's eyebrow winged. "Really?"

"I don't mean
that
way. It's just that sometimes I meet someone younger. Someone single and interesting."

"Are you talking about Allan Baker?"

"The Premier? No way! Not that he hasn't tried. Anyway, he's infatuated with Mrs. Martin Gibney right now."

Natassia watched Alyssa carefully, wondering if the woman was telling the truth.

"How long has that been going on?"

"About six months maybe. I first spotted them sneaking out to the gardens at the New Years Eve party in Vancouver. I've seen the two of them flirting with each other at a couple of other events too. Then, at the hotel, I happened to see Lydia duck into the Premier's room."

Natassia double-checked her data-com.

It was essential that she get Alyssa's statement on record. If the Premier of British Columbia was having an affair with a married woman then she needed solid proof.

Alyssa frowned suddenly. "The night of the party my father hooked me up with a son of a friend. The man was so obnoxious that I developed a terrible headache."

Natassia grinned.

She had dated a couple of men where a nasty headache―real or imagined―had come in handy.

"So you left?"

Alyssa nodded. "I went back to my room. Premier Baker's suite was a couple of doors down from mine, on the opposite side of the hall. That's when I saw them. Allan Baker and Lydia Gibney. They went into his room and I didn't hear anyone in the hallway until maybe half an hour later."

Half an hour was a long time for a ten-minute phone call. Natassia wondered what else Baker had been up to.

Alyssa lowered her voice. "Later, I heard them arguing in the hall. Lydia sounded almost frightened. I heard Martin Gibney's name mentioned a few times. Then I heard her run down the hall―crying. A few minutes later, Premier Baker walked past my door. He was talking to someone."

Natassia carefully sipped her latte, thinking about the ramifications of Alyssa's story.

Baker would have had time to talk to Martin Gibney on the phone, and then take Gibney's wife for a
ride
―albeit a short one. Maybe Lydia got off on pounding Baker while he talked to her husband on the phone.

But who was he talking to in the hallway? And where did he go?

It was only about eighty kilometers from downtown Kelowna to Washburn's cabin. If Baker had hopped in his car after his romp with Mrs. Gibney, he could have easily made it by one o'clock. At that time of night, he would have had no traffic to fight against.

Baker was definitely looking good for the murder of his father.

Natassia carefully studied Alyssa Bines. The woman had a certain freshness about her, an almost child-like quality. Yet, she was one hell of an observer―unlike the other wealthy socialites Natassia had talked to. The ones who had peered down their noses at her.

Alyssa withdrew some money from her purse and tucked it under her coffee cup. Then she rose gracefully from the booth.

"Coffee's on me, Agent Prushenko. My life is usually quite mundane, so this bit of excitement will keep me going for awhile."

"Thank you for talking to me."

Alyssa hovered near the table. "Tell me, Agent Prushenko. What exactly is it that you do in the CFBI, other than listen to bored women with nothing but time on their hands?"

"I listen to the victims," Natassia answered. "When no one else hears them."

The young woman nodded slowly. "They are very fortunate to have you."

When Alyssa Bines was gone, Natassia pondered the woman's parting remark. There were days when she would agree. Especially if she touched a live victim and correctly identified the perpetrator. But sometimes the live cases were the most difficult to handle.

At least a dead victim's pain and suffering was over.

Her data-com beeped suddenly.

"What's up?"

"I'm done with Gibney," Ben replied. "I talked to the staff at the Paloma and checked with hotel security. If Baker left the hotel that night, he didn't drive his vehicle. The parking attendant confirmed that Baker's Mitsubishi Zen was parked all night long."

To Natassia, it was like someone had knocked the wind out of her. The excitement she experienced earlier left her suddenly and completely pissed off.

But there were still inconsistencies in Baker's alibi.

And there
was
the affair.

"Meet me for lunch back at the hotel," Ben said.

"Okay, but I'm bringing dessert," she joked, thinking of her conversation with Alyssa Bines.

She heard a sharp intake of breath on Ben's end.

It wasn't until she hung up that Natassia realized how suggestive her comment had sounded.

10

The two remaining taxi companies on Jasi's list had begrudgingly shown her their credit card records. Both companies indicated customers who had been picked up at or near the theatre. Jason Beranski's name wasn't on any of them. So unless the man had sprouted wings, there was no possible way that Beranski could have left the theatre and made it to Washburn's cabin.

Unless he had been the man who had paid Ian Vandermeer in cash, Jasi mused.

Entering
Bits & Bytes
, a popular Internet café chain, she ordered a Chai latte and slowly scanned the room. There were eight data terminals with dividers between them for privacy. The terminals formed an oval in the center of the café. Small tables with hammered silver chairs surrounded the oval and lined the windows.

Bits & Bytes
was a refuge to computer junkies and teenagers. Jasi was not surprised to see both, although it was a school day.

Walking past the terminals, she glanced at a computer monitor and caught two teenaged boys trying to override the café's porn-blocker. A quick show of her badge sent them scurrying out of the place―red-faced and terrified.

A teenaged girl led her to a table in the back corner.

Dropping thankfully into a chair, Jasi sipped her tea and pushed her sleeve back to check her watch. She had a few minutes before her scheduled meeting with Cameron Prescott. Reviewing her data-com message system, she found two messages. One was from Ben. He was wondering how her side of the investigation was going. She made a note to check back with him after the meeting with the reporter―if the woman ever showed up.

The second message was from Matthew Divine.

A CS report had been uploaded to Jasi's data-com.

Opening the attachment, she read it thoroughly. A boot print from the ground around Washburn's cabin had been analyzed. A man's boot, size 11, deep treaded and marked. The CFBI database cross-checked the tread and identified it as a Thermogard Cruiser with steel toe. A popular and common boot used by a variety of laborers.