Sandra Brown - Ricochet

“Why’s that?” Duncan asked.

“Because whenever you’ve got a murder without a suspect, you come to me. I’m flattered, Detective Hatcher. Truly I am. But being your fall guy on a regular basis is testing my patience.”

“What do you know about Elise Laird?”

His startling blue eyes shifted to DeeDee, who’d posed the question without preamble. “In what context?”

“In the context that she’s been missing for a week.”

“Well, in that context, I know nothing except what I’ve read in the newspaper or heard on television.” Dismissing DeeDee, he returned his unblinking gaze to Duncan. “Did Kenny offer you some refreshment?”

“Just days before she went missing, you met with Elise Laird in a topless bar called White Tie and Tails.”

Savich formed a steeple with his fingers and mused aloud, “Do you think the name of that club has racial implications?”

“The meeting, Savich.”

Duncan ’s impatience made him grin. “Someone’s pulling your leg, Detective Hatcher.”

“Detective Bowen and I are very busy these days. Please don’t waste our time. Tell us the purpose of your tête-à-tête in that dark booth with Elise Laird.”

“There was no such tête-à-tête.”

“Someone told us otherwise.”

Savich remained unruffled. “Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is after the fifty-thousand-dollar reward her husband has offered.”

“That someone is a reliable source,” DeeDee said.

Gordie Ballew was about as reliable as a snake oil salesman’s verbal guarantee, but Duncan nodded his agreement to DeeDee’s lie.

Savich said, “He’s lying.”

“I didn’t say it was a he.”

Savich gave a negligent wave of his hand. “He, she, whatever. Your snitch is lying.”

“I’d put my money on you being the liar,” DeeDee said. “We have the time and the place of the meeting, plus a witness willing to testify to it. Now, think real hard, Savich. Concentrate. Are you sure you didn’t have a meeting last week with Elise Laird?”

Savich assessed her while idly drumming his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. After several moments, he said, “I bet you eat pussy, don’t you?”

She would have lunged from her chair if Duncan hadn’t clothes-lined her across the chest to keep her in her seat. Her angry reaction was exactly what Savich was after. Duncan had learned that lesson the hard way and had spent two days in jail as a consequence.

Before they arrived, he’d reminded DeeDee to beware of Savich’s manipulations and warned her against reacting to them. Savich would push whatever buttons he could to distract them.

Duncan gave DeeDee a warning look, then went back to Savich. “You’re lying about that meeting. We know it took place. So, why not just give it up sooner rather than later and tell us what you know about Elise Laird.”

“I know that she’s a lovely girl,” he said. “Or was the last time I saw her.”

“When was that?”

“Hmm, it’s been a long time. Certainly before she got married, and how long has that been?” Focused on Duncan now, he said silkily, “But she’s not a woman you easily forget, is she? I met her while she was working at the White Tie and Tails. I remember the first time she…entertained me. I was captivated by her.”

He laughed out loud. “Ah, I see by your expression that you’re not immune to her charms, Detective Hatcher. How reassuring. It’s nice to know that you have the same base appetites as the rest of us mere mortals.”

Duncan was seething inside but kept his expression schooled.

Savich snickered, then continued. “As alluring as Elise was, I suggested it would further her career if she got breast implants. She didn’t embrace the idea. Actually, that’s an understatement. She was quite opposed to it.”

He opened a silver box on his desk and took a long, black cigarette from it. “Either of you care for one?” When neither deigned to answer, he fit the cigarette into an ivory filter and lit it with a gold lighter, snapping the lid closed with a decisive click that snuffed out the flame. He inhaled deeply and directed a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“In retrospect,” he said, “I believe Elise was right to reject my suggestion. Her breasts are very soft and sexy in their natural state.”

Duncan wanted to yank the cigarette from Savich’s smiling lips, grind it out against his eyeball, and then push the smooth-talking son of a bitch through the plate glass window behind his desk.

Stiffly, he asked Savich if he’d known Meyer Napoli.

“I knew who he was, of course.”

“Did you ever retain his services?” DeeDee asked.

“What an absurd notion, even for you, Detective Bowen.”

“Why absurd?”

“Why would I hire a private investigator with limited resources and skills?”

“When you have people on your payroll who do that kind of dirty work for you.”

Savich said nothing.

DeeDee said, “We can question everyone who was in the club that afternoon. Someone will remember that meeting between you and the judge’s wife.”

Savich smiled at her veiled threat. Balancing his cigarette in a crystal ashtray, he opened his lap drawer and withdrew a business card, then slid it across the desk toward her. “There was no such meeting. Your snitch is lying. However, if you insist on wasting everyone’s time, I can guarantee the full cooperation of the manager of the White Tie and Tails.

“That’s his card with his phone number, fax number, and e-mail address. Kenny also has his private cell phone number. You can ask for it on your way out.” Having called her bluff, he stood up. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for a business meeting.”

Neither of the detectives moved. Finally DeeDee turned her head. “ Duncan?”

He was engaged in a staring duel with the criminal. “Meet me outside.”

She stood up, but hesitated. “Are you-”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly walked out. Kenny said something to her; she responded, matching his bitchy tone.

Duncan didn’t break eye contact with Savich. “I’ll find out, you know. What that meeting with Elise Laird was about. I’ll find out.”

Savich’s eyes glittered as coldly as the diamond in his earlobe. They didn’t change, not even when his lips slowly formed a wide smile. “You seem to have a real fire in your belly for this case, Detective. Even more so than usual. I wonder why that is. Could it be…”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Do I detect a crack in your armor of righteousness? Could a mere woman have caused that breach? Is snatch your weakness, Detective Sergeant Hatcher?” He made a tsking sound. “How disappointingly ordinary. And how very sad for you that the object of your affection is feared dead.”

He laughed long and loud at Duncan ’s expense. Then, leaning across his desk, he whispered, “Happy hunting.”

Later that afternoon the detectives went to the Chatham County Detention Center and were granted twenty minutes with Gordie Ballew. While his court-appointed attorney stood by, Duncan, feeling the aftereffects of his infuriating meeting with Savich, hammered him with questions about what he’d seen at the topless bar.

Duncan had to learn what business Elise had with Savich. It was important to their investigation, certainly. It was possibly even more important to him.

He bore down on Gordie Ballew. “What were they doing?”

“Talking.”

“Just the two of them?”

“Yeah. Private.” The more nervous Gordie got, the more noticeable his speech impediment became. “In a booth. Like I told you. Like I’ve told you a hunnerd times already.”

He claimed not to have known the blond woman’s identity or realized the significance of her meeting with Savich until he saw Elise Laird’s picture on the front page of the newspaper. “I recognized her right off.”