Trading Places Page 4

  Her car arrived fifteen minutes later. She signed her name, handed over a ten-dollar tip, and accepted the receipt as well as the key. She waited until the driver and the backup car left before she walked down the steps and over to the driveway. She opened the door to examine the Honda. Her bright red windbreaker was lying on the backseat, along with a police procedural manual. An oversize tartan plaid umbrella leaned against the door. A library book about murder and mayhem in the White House was on the floor. It had to be at least eight months overdue. It had been overdue before the night of the stakeout. She’d meant to return it that day but had gotten sidetracked. Next to the library book was her shoulder bag. She reached for it and hung it over her shoulder.

  Aggie closed and locked the doors after she popped the trunk. Because she was a tidy person, the trunk of her car looked the same way. Her tennis racket in its protective cover was still there. Her golf clubs were pushed farther back but looked intact. A square Rubbermaid container held dog treats and rawhide bones. There were three unopened bottles of Evian water for Gus, and his water bowl. Her gym bag, which matched her umbrella, was zipped shut. On the off chance that someone might be watching her, she lifted out the gym bag and set it on the ground. She checked to make sure the trunk was locked before she walked back to the house. She was on the porch itself when Gus whirled around, the hair on his neck standing on end. Across the road at the curb, a cruiser slid to a stop. “Seitz.” All the K-9 commands were in German. Gus obeyed the order, his whole body trembling. His hair was still on end, his ears flat against his head.

  The enemy, AKA, Dutch Davis.

  The detective rolled down his window and leaned out. “You okay, Aggie? Do you need anything?”

  She was trembling, too. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay. You’re on our cruise list. Keep your doors locked. Those flowers look real nice. Call in if you need anything.”

  “Okay.” She waved one of her bony arms before she reached down to scratch Gus behind the ears. “Easy boy, this isn’t the right time.”

  Inside, with the door locked, Aggie collapsed on the oversize chair. The big dog was as agitated as she was. It was a good half hour before either one of them was calm enough to get up and walk around.

  Aggie bit down on her bottom lip as she eyed the tartan gym bag and her purse. Dutch must have seen both items sitting on the front porch. Bastard.

  Was the day planner she used as a journal still in the bag or wasn’t it? Yes or no?

  She unzipped the bag with one quick motion. The sound was so loud, Gus growled. The bag was stuffed to the top. Her New Balance running shoes, her sweats, her water bottle, two towels, makeup bag, headband, wristband, ankle and wrist weights, six granola bars, a pack of Dentyne chewing gum and…the day planner wrapped in the leg of an extra pair of sweatpants. She was so light-headed with relief she had to sit down.

  Aggie sucked in her breath when she reached for her purse. Everything appeared to be intact. She rifled through her wallet. Two credit cards, seventy-four dollars, a few paid receipts, a dry-cleaning ticket, a candy bar, checkbook, pen, small notebook, a cigarette lighter, her keys, lipstick, small atomizer of perfume, and a package of Kleenex.

  She was so dizzy with relief, she closed her eyes and was instantly asleep.

  The K-9 hopped onto the sofa that sat under the window, then onto the back, where he stared out the window. When the cruiser crawled by an hour later, his body stiffened, but he didn’t move.

  • • •

  Aggie sat in the kitchen savoring the day’s first cup of coffee. With the long nap she’d taken the previous afternoon, her night’s sleep had been anything but restful. Gus had prowled the house all night long. That had to mean one of the Big Three was keeping an eye on her. Let them.

  Uncertain where to hide the journal for safekeeping until it was time for her to leave for the farm, she’d finally decided on the fireplace, where Alex’s cleaning lady had laid firewood in case of a chilly spring night. She’d moved the logs and the kindling until she had enough room to burrow the black book underneath. She fretted about the hiding place all night long. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t slept well. She should have just left it where it was.

  She had to carry on today as if nothing was bothering her. She had her car, so she could go out and about. A trip to the grocery store was a must. So was a trip to the cemetery. She needed to buy some new clothes, but she could do that on the Internet or by calling any of the 800 numbers from different catalogs. She also had to go to the bank so she could pay Alex all the money she owed him. She wondered what he was doing right now? Like her, Alex was an early-morning person. Maybe she should call him. She was about to pick up the phone when a shadow crossed the kitchen window. Gus was on his feet a second later. The knock was Alex’s rat-a-tat-tat! Aggie got up to open the door.

  “I brought six jelly donuts, one for me, five for you. Eat up!”

  “This is nice, isn’t it, Alex? Neither of us has anything to do. We can take our time and just fritter away the whole day if we want to.” She bit into one of the sugary donuts.

  “I’m a good fritterer. Is there such a word? So, what’s on the agenda?” He mouthed the words, “Did you find it?” Aggie nodded as she reached for a second donut. She smiled at the look of relief on her friend’s face.

  “I was just sitting here thinking I need to go to the grocery store, and I want to go out to the cemetery. I don’t know why I feel like I have to do that. I should probably call Tom’s parents, too. I did meet them several times, and they’re nice people. I don’t know if Tom told them we broke it off or not. These donuts are good. Three’s my limit, though. Go ahead, eat the other two.”

  “Just what I need, a sugar high.” Alex chomped down on a donut, the sugar scattering over his navy blue shirt. “I’m ready if you are. Should we take the Pathfinder, or do you want to drive your car? If you’re going grocery shopping, I suggest we take mine. There’s more room for Gus.”

  Aggie was agreeable. “Okay. Let me get a sweater. While I’m doing that, I want a total of how much money I owe you. I’ll write you a check. I want to stop at my bank anyway, and you can deposit it at the same time. If you don’t know, guess. Like I said, I hate owing money even if it is to you. By the way, how do you like the front porch?”

  “I like it a lot. Let’s sit out there when we get home and have a couple of beers.”

  “Okay.”

  Alex calculated the amount of money in his head, knowing if he was off it was only by a few bucks. He handed a slip from the sticky pad by the phone to Aggie when she returned with her sweater.

  Aggie looked at the amount and reached for her purse. She scribbled off a check and handed it to him. She let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thanks again for doing all that for me, Alex.” He shrugged as he pocketed the check.

  They really didn’t talk about anything until they were walking up and down the aisles in the busy supermarket. Alex showed her the gizmo he’d purchased at the electronics store. “Good choice. Did you sweep your car this morning?”

  “You bet. I didn’t find anything. I was afraid someone would see me, so I didn’t do yours. We’ll do the house when we get back.”

  She told him about Dutch Davis and Gus’s reaction to the detective the day before. “The drive-by was to let me know they’re watching me. It’s bothering me that they didn’t find the day planner. I’m glad they didn’t, but how did they miss it?”

  “If you want a guess, I’d say it was because of the guard dogs at the impound lot. Maybe they couldn’t get to it. Maybe they did get to it and didn’t find it. You did say you wrapped it in your sweatpants. They would have been in a hurry. You also have to log in and out and give a reason for going to the lot. Think about it. What reason would they have other than to snoop?”

  Aggie shrugged as she poked, then shook, a melon. “It’s safe for the moment. I hid it in the fireplace under the logs. Okay, I’m done. I think I have everything.”

  Everythin
g turned into $286.14 plus eighteen grocery bags.

  As fast as Alex slid the grocery bags into the cargo hold, Gus pawed them, looking for a treat. Aggie laughed as she opened a bag of cherry-flavored licorice. She handed him one of the long sticks. “He likes root beer, too. I think he likes the fizz going up his nose. Root beer is a special treat. Let’s take the groceries home. While you put everything away, I’ll sweep the house for bugs. I know how to do it. Then we can go to the cemetery. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  They were almost to Peachtree when Alex said, “There’s a light blue Taurus behind us. Don’t look now. I noticed it earlier, too.”

  Aggie grimaced. “It’s not the unmarked Taurus you have to worry about. It’s the unmarked dark vehicle two cars behind it. We’re supposed to spot the Taurus. Ignore it.”

  It must be a cop thing. Alex did as he was told. He ignored the light blue Taurus as he turned on his directional and headed for Peachtree.

  An hour later, Aggie took Alex by the hand and led him into the living room, where she pointed to a vase of glass flowers. She held up one finger. She motioned for him to follow her to the second floor, where she showed him the second bug underneath a picture frame that held a picture of Gus in his protective armor and wearing his badge. He watched as she pulled out two pieces of crinkly, noisy cellophane from the pocket of her Capri pants. She wrapped the bug and placed it back where she found it. Whoever was listening in on her private life would only hear static. They would think one of two things, either the bug was malfunctioning or that she had found it and done exactly what she’d just done. At this point, she really didn’t care what they thought. She smiled. Alex’s thumb shot in the air.

  Downstairs, she did the same thing to the glass flowers.

  “I think we’re ready to head out again, Alex.” She whistled for Gus, who came on the run. “Maybe we should take my car since we’re just going to the cemetery. It hasn’t been driven for a while. Do you mind checking the tires and the windshield wiper fluid? The pollen is really heavy right now. I might need some gas, too.” She palmed the electronic device to Alex as she held the door open for Gus.

  “You could probably use one quart of oil, Aggie. The windshield wiper fluid is okay.”

  “I’m almost on empty. I guess we’re going to have to go in your car after all. Darn. Come on, Gus, we have to relocate. Don’t forget to stop at Della’s Florist Shop so I can pick up some flowers. I’ll drive over to the gas station later and fill it up.”

  Alex climbed behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and gunned the engine. “It’s right under the driver’s side door.”

  “Damn. Those guys have been really busy. My thinking is this: They probably kept on with their little side business while I was incapacitated. Now that I’m home, they don’t know what I know. That means they have to be really careful. When a buyer wants his stuff, he wants it when he wants it or he goes someplace else. That tells me their sideline is in a holding pattern, and they want to get back into business. They have to sit tight until they figure out how much I know.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay to bring your sister into all of this?”

  “I think so. We’ll know for sure tomorrow when she arrives. If she says no, then we let it all drop. The one thing I know for certain is, I’m in no physical shape to take them on at this point in time. I’ve got one big gun I can still fire.”

  “And that would be…what? Or, should I say, whom?”

  “It’s whom. Nathan Hawk. He’s a reporter with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Nice guy. Doesn’t go off half-cocked. Stays with the facts. Plus, he’s a hell of an investigative reporter. I worked with him a few times. Like I said, he’s a nice guy. He actually has ethics, and he protects his sources. That’s a real plus in my book. I think he would be just perfect for Lizzie. The cops are really wary of him. He’s got snitches and sources all over the place, and he pays well. If he dogs Lizzie, the cops will stay away from her. I’m thinking that’s the way it’s going to go down.”

  “In my experience, Aggie, I’ve found that if you give a person two choices, the stupid one and the smart one, invariably they choose the stupid one. That’s just another way of saying you can’t count on anybody doing the right thing.”

  “I know that. I’m hopeful, Alex. What else can I say?”

  Alex shrugged. “The cemetery is about a quarter of a mile down the road. Are you sure you want to go there?”

  “No, I don’t want to go there, but I’m going anyway. I owe that much to Tom. Damn, we were so busy talking, we forgot the flowers.”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind, Aggie.”

  “I mind, Alex. That means I’m slipping. Good cops don’t slip because they could get killed. You need eyes in the back of your head, you need a photographic memory, and you need the guts of a fool. Right now I’m sorely lacking in all three categories.”

  “Stop being so hard on yourself, Aggie. You’ve had a rough time of it these past six months. It’s all going to come back. Give it time.”

  Aggie’s voice sounded so sad, Alex shivered.

  “Time has a way of becoming your enemy. Especially in the world I live in. I feel terrible that I didn’t get the flowers.”

  “It’s not the end of the world, Aggie. You can bring flowers the next time.”

  Aggie looked across at Alex. “It is the end of the world for Tom. I don’t want to come back here again.”

  He said he understood, but he didn’t. Women didn’t think like men. He got out of the car, ran around to the passenger side, and held the door for Aggie. Gus bounded over the seat, then out the door, landing neatly on the ground.

  Together, they walked toward the site map outside the memorial office.

  Twenty minutes later, they found the simple stone. Tears blurred Aggie’s vision when she saw Tom’s name chiseled in the granite stone. He was too young to die, too young to be gunned down because he was a good person and objected to his friends’ wrongdoing.

  Guilt washed over her. Guilt that she was alive and Tom was dead. She reached down to pat Gus’s head. He whimpered softly. She wondered if he knew who was buried here. Gus had liked Tom. Not as much as Gus liked Alex, but he did like him.

  Aggie mumbled a prayer she remembered from childhood, her eyes downcast, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “I feel terrible, Alex. Why do I feel guilty? Why do I feel like I let Tom down?”

  “You didn’t let him down, Aggie. It’s natural that you feel a little guilty. You’re alive, and he’s not. This is the end of the road for everyone. For Tom it was way too early. Life goes on because that’s the way life is. Come on, it’s time to head for home. Anytime you want to come back here, I’ll bring you. I want your promise, though, that you won’t come here alone.”

  Aggie wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “All right, Alex.”

  Chapter Three

  Elizabeth Corinthia Jade, AKA Lizzie Jade, and also known at one time as Sugar Pye during her short-lived stripping career, sauntered off the plane, the eyes of every man in first class on her swinging derriere, her incredibly long legs, stiletto heels, and a tight spandex dress that left absolutely nothing to anyone’s imagination. Her long blond wig with the jagged bangs bounced and swished as she made her way from the plane to the Atlanta concourse.

  Lizzie Jade loved it when people looked and stared at her. But it was strictly a hands-off policy as far as she was concerned. You could look but you could not even think about touching her person. Aggie said she was an exhibitionist, which was probably true to a certain degree. She loved fancy, daring clothes and considered herself a trendsetter among her peers. She was rich, she was talented, she was beautiful, and she was educated with a degree in marine biology plus a master’s. She was also a cardsharp, a disco dancer, a stripper, a runway model, an actress, a private divorce dick who worked only on the female’s side, and a gas station attendant. Now she was going to be a cop. A pistol-packing cop.
Detective, actually. She wondered what it was she would be detecting. Aggie had been rather mysterious on the phone. Maybe she was going to have to go undercover to ferret out some deep, dark secret that would blow the city of Atlanta wide open. She had her outfit all picked out in her mind for the photo op when she blew the case wide open by the time she rode the B Train to the baggage area. She’d probably get some kind of commendation or maybe a gold badge. Solid gold, of course. Lizzie Jade would never wear anything gold-plated.

  Never.

  Lizzie Jade loved Lizzie Jade.

  Lizzie turned around to see more admiring glances as she hailed a porter. She smiled at one and all, her scarlet lips glistening. A scarlet-tipped nail that matched her lipstick pointed to three crocodile suitcases—two large and one medium-sized.

  She looked around for a limo driver holding a card that was supposed to say, Patricia Newfeld. She made eye contact and smiled. She wiggled her fingers to show she was the Patricia Newfeld he was to pick up and drive to the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead.