Good Chemistry (5 page)

Debra studied Judy’s reactions carefully. She seemed to be telling the truth. But where was all of her fear coming from?

“Did they have any enemies? Maybe someone they had a quarrel with? A disgruntled employee, maybe?”

“No. They didn’t have any employees. It was always just the two of them. They didn’t have any enemies. They were two of the gentlest people I ever knew.” Judy began to sob quietly.

“Is it possible they were involved in some sort of top-secret research, perhaps for the military or with the intelligence community?”

Judy shook her head adamantly before answering. “No, I don’t think so. She never said anything along those lines to me.”

“Would it be possible for me to have a look at her room?”

Judy sniffled as she got up and guided Manning back to Bernie’s bedroom without speaking.

“This is her computer.” Judy pointed to the Dell on the desk.

Debra hit a few keystrokes but found the computer was password protected. “I’m going to have to take this in as evidence, so it can be examined by our computer lab.” Debra gazed at Judy to gauge her reaction.

“That’s fine. As I said, Bernie was just a plain old researcher. She wasn’t into anything even remotely dangerous.”

Debra finished searching the room. She found nothing suspicious. If there were any clues to be found, they were locked up inside the computer. Manning called the computer lab with the address so a technician could be dispatched to collect the computer. “All right, Ms. Marx. Just one final question. Do you have any contact information for Bernie’s next of kin?”

Judy pulled Bernie’s day planner out of her desk drawer then opened the Contacts section.

Manning wrote down two numbers. “Here, this is my card. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please give me a call.”

Judy nodded mournfully. Her eyes and the edges of her nose were beet-red with grief.

Detective Manning squeezed Judy’s hand for a moment and then let herself out. She got into the Mustang and headed out to take a lunch break.

Chapter 5

Manning pulled into the parking lot at Versace’s. The valet took her keys and Debra made her way inside. Immediately, she felt awkward. A buxom twenty-something woman with fashion-model looks and a brilliant white smile, greeted her.

“Good afternoon, I’m Bridgett and I’ll be assisting you today. Would you like an espresso or a snack?” Bridgett waved a hand to point out a lavish display.

Is this a store or a five-star restaurant?
Debra wondered. “Good afternoon. My name is Detective Manning.” Debra instinctively flashed her badge as she introduced herself.

“Oh, ah, yes. Let me get the manager for you.” The cool elegantly composed hostess, fumbled slightly as she tried to deal with the alien experience.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m just here to buy a dress.” Manning got the exact reaction she hoped to when she flashed her badge. Now she was back in control of the situation.

“Oh. Well, all right. What’s the occasion?”

“I’m attending the Walter Alts Charity Benefit tonight,” Debra said in an even, controlled voice.

“Oh.” Bridgett’s nose wrinkled up, back in her dazed and confused mode. “Ah, okay. Is there something particular you had in mind?”

“I need something in black.” Debra gave her enough information for Bridgett to come back with something appropriate to the occasion.

She disappeared for a moment and returned with a dress. “How does this look?” Bridgett asked, holding up a slinky, black silk dress with a plunging neckline and tiny spaghetti straps.

“Sure, that looks perfect. May I try it on?” Manning’s instincts told her not to ask for a dressing room key the way she did at Wal-Mart.

Bridgett escorted her into a plush well-appointed private room. The furniture and drapes were matching crushed red velvet. Bridgett handed Debra the dress and excused herself after pointing out yet another espresso machine and accompanying table of hors d’oeuvres and assorted finger foods.

Debra scanned the room for a booth to change in. Seeing none, she assumed she was meant to change right there. After a little hesitation and a grimace, she finally stripped down quickly donning the evening gown.

She was reminded of the one high school dance she attended. She had sneaked downtown after her hand-to-hand combat training session with her father. She grabbed a dress, paid, stuffed it in her backpack, and hurried to the high school gymnasium. She had stripped in the ladies’ room and changed in a stall.

She emerged, wearing a wildly inappropriate summer dress, with running shoes sticking out the bottom, and clutching nervously at her overstuffed backpack. It wasn’t quite the scene from the movie, Carrie, where a girl had walked out onto the dance floor covered in pig’s blood, but it was close.

Every gaze fell on Debra and soon the pointing, snickering, and elbowing of the next person ensued. Debra turned and ran home.

She was already wounded-to–the-core, when she came in the house to discover her father was there. He was supposed to be conducting a nighttime parachuting drill. But heat lightning in the drop zone meant they had scrubbed the exercise.

“Well. Just what in the hell is this?” he had demanded.

Debra froze with her eyes downcast. She knew better than to cry. That would only make matters worse. “I’m gone from the house less than two hours and you’re already out whoring!” The berating went on for hours. The extra duties and workouts lasted for months before the incident finally faded.

Debra stood barefoot, turning slowly in front of a full-length mirror. She trembled a bit and only stole brief glimpses of herself. The conflicts and heartache it stirred up were intense. If she could only see herself as the rest of the world did and not through her father’s eyes.

She was stunning. The slinky shimmering silk hung perfectly off her taut, sculptured shoulders. Her legs, visible to above the knee, were the type that caused car accidents.

“Are you decent?”

“Yes.” Debra answered in a nervous, wavering voice.

Bridgett opened the door and her eyebrows arched as her mouth fell open. She saw the top beauties of Miami on a daily basis, but this woman stunned her. “Wow! That looks fantastic on you!” All of the usual plastic phoniness was momentarily gone from her voice. The flutter of Debra’s eyelashes made the vision complete. “You’re going to be the center of attention tonight.”

Debra sincerely hoped Bridgett was wrong about that.

“Do you like the dress?”

“Yes. It’ll work. How much?”

“Seventeen,” Bridgett said, with nonchalant propriety.

“Okay.” Debra fished out her Visa card and handed it to Bridgett. Ordinarily, she would never dream of spending seventeen hundred dollars on a dress, but she had to look the part tonight. Hopefully, her bank wouldn’t flag it as a suspicious purchase and freeze her account. Debra changed back, while Bridgett went to run her credit card and put the dress in a protective plastic sleeve.

“Thank you. Come again.”

Debra jumped into her car without bothering to open the door. The whole experience had her charged with nervous energy. Debra finished out the day at her desk, making follow-up calls to the alphabet soup of government agencies that could possibly have a connection to the mystery explosive.

None of them bothered to return her call. They met her dogged inquiries with staunch denials of any knowledge of said explosive. It was what she expected. The calls were more of a tactic to shake things up and see which agencies’ black SUVs start popping up around town.

When Debra was sure the coast was clear, she opened the center desk drawer. Jazz had stashed the key in her pencil holder. She pulled out her copy of the Doc Robber case. Quickly stuffing it in her briefcase, Debra headed home after a quick stop to get the invitation from Amanda.

She checked her mail before going in. Her one-bedroom apartment had a solid wall of windows at the back with remote control blinds that came down from the top like a garage door. The kitchen and all her furniture were sleek stainless steel and black leather. The hard-edged look was a good match to her personality.

Phelix, her pure-black tabby cat, was named after Phelix Leiter from the James Bond movies and not Felix the cartoon cat. A distinction she always pointed out when she had guests over.

The most outstanding feature in her apartment was the universal workout machine where most people had their entertainment center.

Debra hung her shoulder holster from the coat rack by the front door. She sat down at her computer to check her e-mail. There was
one from the Blank Stockwell Detective Agency. Debra’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been awaiting this for months.

She hired the firm to track down the whereabouts of her mother, Catherine McAllister. She’d been living under her maiden name since leaving Allan twenty-five-years earlier. And this was the report on Catherine’s status. Debra had dreamed of this moment ever since her mother left so long ago. She took a deep breath and clicked on the message.

Dear Ms. Manning,

It is our deepest regret to inform you of the passing of your mother, Catherine McAllister. She died from complications arising from open-heart surgery.

She is interned at the Jackson Memorial Cemetery outside Tulsa, Oklahoma. Again, we extend you our deepest condolences
.

Debra sat staring blankly at the screen. She read the message five more times before she leaned back in her office chair and gazed out the window. She trembled a little, but she didn’t cry.

After a while, she dropped Phelix down to the floor and got up to take a shower. She still had a job to do. She slipped into the skimpy black dress and mounted the rickety stiletto heels. Luckily, her ankles were strong enough that they didn’t buckle with each misstep.

Debra grabbed a small black clutch and looked at her gun. Shaking her head at the tiny useless purse, she left her gun home. This was only a scouting mission. Debra drove to the charity and tossed her keys to the valet. Presenting her invitation at the door, she went in, as it was getting under way.

Immediately studying the faces milling about, she was like a bloodhound on a scent. Debra ordered a sparkling water at the bar. As far as she was concerned, she was still on duty and wanted to remain razor sharp. She found a spot with a good vantage point overlooking the dance floor.

Many of the tuxedo-clad men were easy to dismiss as possible suspects with a glance. The agility demonstrated by the Doc Robber left his exploits well out of range of the physical capacity of ninety percent of the men in attendance.

There were, of course, some young men who could perform the physical feats, but none of them read right to her. Debra wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, but she knew when she wasn’t seeing it. She got up and walked around the ornate hall.

Couples danced circles across the highly polished white marble with green impregnations of copper. Debra glanced up into a gigantic mirror in a gilded frame. She picked up on a pair of eyes making contact with hers through the mirror.

The man had a rugged face and lush thick waves of dark-brown hair that glistened with pomade. He was tall, lean, and solid. He kept his gaze fixed on Debra’s through the looking glass as he confidently made his way to her.

He homed in on her like someone searching the sea of faces for a long-lost relative returning from a treacherous ocean voyage. Only one face in the vast horde held any meaning.

As he got closer, Debra made out his features as they came into focus. His hard, angular jaw looked like it was really a steel plate. The solid ropy-cords of muscle in his neck disappeared under his tux collar. Finally, he stepped right up in front of her and she saw his dark, intense eyes. They were a rich brown with a ring of green around the iris, and a kaleidoscope blending of the two that shifted with the changing light.

Brimming with confidence, he extended his hand to her. “Johansen Davenport.”

Debra gripped his hand firmly to shake it. This was usually the first indicator for most men that they were in over their heads. But not this one. He had a vise-like grip of his own. Effortlessly, he turned Debra’s powerful hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it like a proper gentleman. His eyes gazed into hers as he did so. The fire she saw burning there was anything but gentlemanly.

A jolt ran through Debra’s body. As he straightened back to his full height, of six-feet six-inches, he towered over Debra.

“Could I trouble you for a dance?” Johansen’s eyes glittered with a devilish delight as he guided her onto the dance floor before she had a chance to answer. He pulled her in close to his chest and swept her over the floor, she was in the middle of the dance floor, being led around in circles by the powerful, provocative man. His hand held her firmly at the small of her back. The heat coming off his hand was intense. Or was the heat coming from her?

It finally dawned on Debra that she’d completely lost track of time. She’d been gazing straight into his eyes for who knew how long. He’d just walked up out of nowhere and pulled a feeling up in her that she’d never felt in her life. Almost like an out-of-body experience. She lay her head on his shoulder and let the world melt and drop away.

His warm breath cascaded over her burning neck and ear.

She moved her hand around his back like a pat-down. But she wasn’t checking for weapons. She could feel his iron-hard body hidden under the deceptively civilizing tuxedo.

The only other body she’d ever felt this firm was her own. It was as though she couldn’t tell where her flesh ended and his began. Debra peeled herself from the comfortable spot on his shoulder, so she could look into his eyes once more.

It was all happening so fast she could barely process things. The allure in his eyes caught her focus. But it was what she didn’t see that really captivated her. There wasn’t a bit of fear or insecurity to be seen. He showed no trace of the typical, fragile male ego that demanded to be tiptoed around.

Debra was lost, swimming in the deep pools of soul and warmth she saw there. Her heart recognized instantly that this was a man who would never speak a cruel word to her just because she dared to be his equal. A whole array of feelings: joy, passion, warmth along with feelings Debra didn’t have names for swept over her.

The music came to an end. Johansen escorted her back to her table. Her phone began ringing. She was completely oblivious to it. She was trying to find something to say as she stood there with a dopey smile on her face.

“Are you going to answer that?” His voice rang sweet and playful in her ears.

“Oh, ah, yes of course.” Debra pulled herself together and dug out her cell phone.

“Hello. Yes. Okay. Oh no . . . I see. I’m on my way.” Debra snapped the phone shut as utter devastation settled in her chest.

“What’s happened?”

“It’s my father. He’s dying. I have to go.” Debra felt like she was talking to someone she’d known all her life. “I—I.” The awkward dilemma of the situation struck her like a punch. What do you say in a situation like this?
Thanks for the dance, good-bye?

“Don’t worry, Detective Manning, you’ll see me again.”

Johansen’s voice fell on her ears like a thunderstorm in a parched desert. “Ah, okay,” Debra mumbled, as he turned and disappeared back into the crowd like a phantom.

Debra rushed to her car as she slowly began to get her bearings back. She opened the door and climbed in. Then it finally hit her. “I never told him my name was Detective Manning,” Debra said to herself, perplexed. Just then, she felt a sharp poking in her back.

Debra reached around and felt the spot. In the pleats of her dress, she felt a hard object. She dislodged it with her fingers and brought it around to see. Held between her finger and thumb was a perfectly cut blue diamond. She recognized it immediately from the insurance pictures. It was Leslie Ann Charles’ stolen forty-carat blue diamond.

Debra rummaged around in the glove box for her emergency pair of rubber gloves. She wrapped the stone carefully without touching it any more than she had already.