High Country Nocturne (David Mapstone Mystery 8)

When the door closed, Vare put her hands on her hips and smiled with malice.

“Your next girlfriend? She’s too young for you.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But she’s Elliott Whitehouse’s daughter.”

“Well, enjoy it before she kicks you to the curb.”

“She’s not…!”

Vare held out a hand. “It’s your business, David.” She imitated Zephyr, with an extra dollop of sweet sexuality, no mean accomplishment for Kate Vare. Her voice sounded like a completely different person. Back in her normal tone, she continued, “Walk right into the propeller. I won’t stop you.”

Before I could say more, she changed the subject. “So the boys pick up a suicide in Midtown, an office in the old United Bank tower on Central. Subject named Matt Pennington. He hanged himself from a doorknob with two neckties.”

My middle wound in a knot but I kept my face neutral. “Did he?”

“They were willing to buy it. I called it bullshit. No note. His computer is missing. No cellphone. Who doesn’t have a cellphone attached to them at all times now? I thought about your girl, Miss ‘Suicided.’ Then I found the fake file cabinets. I pulled them open with a pry bar. It wasn’t easy. But there’s a very elaborate safe behind them. We’ve got techs working to open it right now. What do you want to bet we find some diamonds?”

I said, “Who’s Matt Pennington?”

“You tell me.” She sat and leaned forward on her elbows.

“The name hasn’t come up.”

“Liar.”

I kept my eyes straight on her and repeated the sentence.

“Well, you’re not making enough trouble, Mapstone. Pennington was a Navy SEAL assigned to the Mexican marines on drug interdiction. Five years ago they tried to nab Chapo Guzman, the head of the Sinaloa Cartel…”

“I know who he is.”

“Intel said that he was staying at a mansion on the Gulf of California. They went in from the ocean and immediately came under fire. Two Mexican marines were killed. Chapo got away. The bad guys had advanced information about the raid. The marines are the best agency in Mexico. I don’t know what went wrong, but Pennington was assigned to a desk job and then left the service.”

“So he was blamed.”

She nodded. “I called in a favor from an old boyfriend in the DEA. Don’t look at me that way, you jerk. Lots of men find me attractive. I wouldn’t sleep with you if we were the only two humans left on a dying planet. If I hadn’t had sex for a hundred years and you showed up at my doorstep naked with a rose in your teeth. If you had Old Glory draped over your face…”

“I get it,” I said. “Your DEA buddy.”

“He said Pennington was in the cartel’s pocket. Specifically Sinaloa. But they could never prove it.”

“So why did he end up here?”

“His mother was sick. Get this, he worked in a call center. The turnover rate at most of those places is one hundred percent. But he drove a new BMW every year and he had this secret office in Midtown. No name on the door.”

“Now a dead man inside.”

She leaned back.

“I showed you mine. You show me yours.”

So I did, with only a few omissions.

When I was finished, she liked me a little better.

“That explains a lot,” she said.

“Such as?”