Lynne Heitman - First Class Killing

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“He said nothing, only that the case was solved, there were no loose ends, and he had no real interest in resurrecting a murder that was difficult enough the first time around.”

“Difficult how?”

“To have a young flight attendant beaten to death on a layover in Omaha was quite the civic black eye, as you can well imagine.”

“Is it worth pursuing?”

“Doubtful.”

“Then what do we have if I don’t find a way to get close to Angel?”

He continued to move around, albeit more slowly and in a more confined area. “I do not like this. Not one bit. Why did you keep me in the dark about going to meet her?”

“Did you check your messages? Because I left one on your home phone.”

“I must have been on the computer.”

“And your cell phone wasn’t on, as usual. I am reporting to you now, minutes after having left the woman. She’s still on the massage table.”

He fumed around a little more. I checked my watch. I was due to meet Tristan at the range within the hour. He had not appreciated my last late arrival. “Do you want to quit now when we’re so close?”

He did an abrupt change in course and ended up in front of my chair. “That is the same argument you have been using on me for the past week. It is a specious argument at best.”

“What is specious about it?”

“Every time we get close, the line moves. You keep moving it.”

“ Harvey, the case is not finished. I don’t want to quit when there is still work to be done and we have the time.”

“If we use the time Mr. Wolff gave us and we come back with nothing, it could be disastrous.”

“On the other hand, imagine walking into the briefing on Monday with a full list of all the hookers, a detailed description of how the scheduling works, and proof that these women are being paid for sex. We’d blow them away. That’s what we get if we get the Web master. If I pass this test, it puts me one step closer.”

“You are sure she has one of those?”

“A Web master? Positive. She told me she hates computers. They make her eyes glaze over. Machines aren’t her thing. People are her thing.”

He made his way over to his bookcase, where he began touching each book on one of the shelves, running his index finger along the spine, top to bottom. Checking for dust? He held his free arm awkwardly at his side.

“I can’t do this without you, Harvey.”

“How will we know which flight you will be on?”

“The call comes in advance.” I considered it a positive that he was beginning to think specifically about the plan.

“How far in advance?”

“A day. They’ll arrange the date and set up the swaps to put me on the right flight. Then they’ll call me with the flight number and the code names for the client and me.”

“Code names.” That elicited a humorless chuckle. “Like spies.”

“Once I know the flight, we can pretty much narrow the options to men booked in first class. The date will be one of them.”

He continued doggedly swiping spines until he had finished one row and begun the next. “I do not like it.”

“You said that. What else, specifically?”

“We are not prepared for an operation of this nature. It is too dangerous.”

“I can appreciate your concern, but supposedly these clients are well vetted. I’ll be fine.”

“You cannot know that.”

“I also don’t know if the next plane I board will crash, but I get on it anyway.”

“That is not a valid comparison.” He turned toward me and was suddenly fully engaged. “There is an infinitesimal risk that your airplane will crash, a conclusion based on millions upon millions of hours of data analyzed over-”

“All right, then.” He did have the ability to drive me crazy. “Let’s make a decision based on the data. Depending on what you find out, we can decide at the time whether I go in or back off. That’s the ultimate out, right? I can be a no-show.”

“It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because no matter what I find, you won’t back off.”

I twisted my watch around my wrist but managed not to look at it. “If you get me good information about this man that suggests I shouldn’t proceed, then I won’t. But you have to promise you’ll do the best you can to find the dirt, that you won’t rig the outcome. I have to be able to trust you.”

“We will have to trust each other.”

“WHAT ISWRONG WITH YOU?” TRISTAN HELD up the paper target so I could see. Except for a crescent-shaped nick on the right side of the upper border of the page, it was completely intact. I had taken fourteen shots at it. “Are you still hung over from the party?”

“That party was two days ago.”

“You were pretty wasted.”

I wasn’t hung over. I was frazzled by the high-speed dash in late-afternoon traffic to get out to the range, and I was distracted by the details of the case. It might have been a mistake to turn down that massage. I could have used an hour of deep-tissue relaxation.

“Not my day, Tristan. I’m sorry. I can’t concentrate.”

“That excuse will not fly when you take your test. What if that day is a bad day, too? You have to learn to push through it. I’ll help you. Come on.”

“Can we take a break, please?” I didn’t leave him much choice. I set the weapon down and went to the picnic table to grab a seat. Eventually, he came and slipped onto the bench across from me.

He gave me his stern face, which could be comical. But then he lightened up, pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and unfolded it. “Maybe this will cheer you up.” He began to quote from the page.

“ ‘Subject was alert and observant and treated each passenger as if he or she were the only one onboard. Highest rating.’ ”

“What is that?”

“This, my dear, is your sparkling report from yesterday’s ghost rider.”

“Alert and observant?” I had to smile at that. “Imagine what I could have done if I hadn’t still been half in the bag. How do you have access to a report like that? I thought results were top secret.”

“It pays not to burn your bridges. Here’s something else I know. If you had missed that trip, you’d be on the street right now.”

“Did I tell you how much I appreciated all your help yesterday?”

“Yes, you did, but it’s always good to hear it again. You need to pace yourself. Take it from me; the lifestyle gets really old really fast, and it’s not good for your skin.”

Again with the skin.

“Drinking too much and going on two hours of sleep. And then getting on a six-hour flight with all that recycled cabin air. Although I give you special dispensation because of what happened with your brother. I suppose that could drive anyone into a tequila embrace. Speaking of which, what have you done about him?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“I lost his number.” He gave me the look that lame excuse deserved. “I did. I had it in the pocket of my uniform out in LA. I was moving it from pocket to pocket, and then it was just gone. I don’t know what happened to it.”

“You need to straighten this out, dear. I know it’s why you’re so spacey.”

“No. Jamie and I have been fighting for a long time.”

“But you saw him. That had to do something.”

“We’ve had fights before, and we’ve always made up. If this were about anything but my father…this feels different.”

“Because it is. It’s big. I’m sure the idea of Jamie reaching out to him like that really hurts.”

“I’m not hurt. I’m angry.”

“You’re lying, sweetie. I’m sorry, but you just are.”