Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

I blushed and felt slightly heady. Thoughts of Ray brought me down to earth with a thud. The last thing you need is to get involved with someone else you work with. Duvall wasn’t married, but still . . . what if it didn’t work out? I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship. So I ignored his comment.

Affecting a breezy voice, I said, “You’ll be happy to know, this is for a case I’m handling with Walt Shapiro. I’ve got his blessing and budget to back me.”

I gave him a thumbnail sketch of the situation with Brad Higgins and asked for a background check on him, Darrell Cooper and Vince Marzetti. I wanted to know if any of them had made huge bank deposits or bought high-ticket items recently. I also asked him to track down the missing Darrell Cooper and see what he could find on ITN Consultants.

“When did Cooper quit?” Duvall asked.

“Week and a half ago.”

“If he’s moved, his new address won’t show up in any databases for at least a couple of months. You need this information sooner than that, I guess.”

“The sooner, the better. This guy may have ripped off the company and left our client twisting in the wind.”

“I’ll come up with something. I’m sure there’s a creative way to get at this.”

We both knew I didn’t want to hear what that was. “Thanks, Duvall. I’d have a go at finding him myself, but no one wants to talk to a lawyer. Plus, I’d be violating ethical rules if I pretended to be anything else.”

“If you can’t figure out a way around those rules, you must not be doing your job.” I heard suppressed laughter.

“Ha ha. Anyhow, you’re my way around the rules.”

“Thank God for dirty work. Keeps me in business.”

“Keeps us all in business. Makes the world go ’round.”

“Do I detect a note of cynicism?”

I sighed. “Cynicism? Or resignation that we’re all swimming in the same cesspool?”

“Listen to you. You need a vacation.”

A vacation. The concept seemed as bizarre as a pole dancer at a ballroom competition. When was the last time I’d had a real vacation? There was the two weeks I’d taken off before leaving the PD’s office. I did the math. Four years? Had it really been four years? With the workload building and the new case with Walt—it didn’t look like I’d be vacationing again any time soon.

His voice interrupted my mental pity party. “I’ll have something for you by tomorrow. After that, I’m out of town for a week.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Family business down in North Carolina. Talk to you soon. And cheer up, okay?”

We hung up. I pondered my gloomy mood. The day’s irritations left me feeling sour and out of sorts.

When I got to the office the following morning, I had a voice mail message from Jon Fielding at Kozmik Games. I returned the call, only to have him insist on calling me back in ten minutes. I used the time to bang out a demand letter I’d been meaning to write for days. The slip-and-fall case involved a dancer named Daria Lewellin who thought she could claim her bruised knee as a career-ending disability and settle for millions. Not gonna happen, I thought as I requested a dollar amount with as many zeros as I could muster without laughing out loud.

The phone rang as I printed the letter.

“Sorry,” Fielding said. “I had to find a private place to talk. I don’t want Ana or anyone else listening in.”

“What’s the big secret?”

“I don’t know. I just know this Brad situation has made everyone paranoid.” Fielding spoke in a low, clipped voice. I could visualize his eyes darting around. “We’ve been ordered not to discuss Brad or the embezzlement with anyone. People here are even afraid to talk about it with each other.”

“Why?”

“I can’t talk much longer.” His words came out in a rush. “Just ask Vince Marzetti. I think he knew about that account before he left the company.”

“So you’re saying the account existed before Brad began working there?”

“I think so. Ask Vince. He’ll know.” The line went dead.