defend myself."
"Defend yourself how?" He had been trying to put that damn night behind him for weeks and now here it was, shoved down his throat once again. "You were interested in only one thing--breaking that story."
A light flush rushed to her cheeks. "That's not true! I didn't give a damn about the story. All I wanted was to help a friend in trouble. I never thought for one moment that an undercover cop would be there. If I had ..." She looked away, as if the memories of that night were too painful to think about.
Nick tossed the hand wrap on the bench and started removing the other.
"You should have called me when Dr. Ho gave the paper bag to Randy Chen."
"You wouldn't have made it to the warehouse in time."
"I could have questioned your instructor."
"He wouldn't have told you a thing. He was too scared."
Nick said nothing. What was there to say? All the accusations in the world wouldn't bring Matt back.
In spite of the uncomfortable silence, Kelly showed no sign of leaving.
Instead, she came to stand in front of him, so close he could smell that perfume she used all the time. He remembered its name. Magic Noire.
Black magic. Once he had wondered what it would feel like to fall under the spell of Kelly Robolo .
She looked at him without flinching. "I need your help. Nick."
He hadn't expected that, not after their last conversation. "Then you've come to the wrong guy." He started to turn around, but she stopped him by touching his arm. Almost immediately she pulled her hand back.
"
Victoria
's husband is missing."
The sentence, spoken in one fast breath, took him aback. He waited a moment, absorbing the news. Although he had never met Jonathan Bowman, he knew he was a vice president at the Chenonceau , where Nick's late father had worked as chief of security.
Nick's antennae popped up. They always did when Syd Webber was involved, even indirectly. "How long?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"What does Webber say?"
"He is as baffled as we are. Yesterday morning, Jonathan called his secretary and told her he wouldn't be coming in because he was sick.
Moments later, he called
Victoria
and told her Syd was sending him to
Miami
on business and he wouldn't be back until late afternoon, in time for his young daughter's dance recital."
Nick remembered his own marriage and how badly he had wanted to get away at times. "Men need space."
"At four o'clock this morning," Kelly continued, "a Detective Quinn from the
Miami
police called to say that a bomb had exploded in some seedy motel off Interstate 95. Jonathan was not among the injured but a charred body was found in room 116, where he was supposed to have been staying. I don't believe that body is his. I don't even believe Jonathan was ever in that motel."
Nick couldn't help it, he was curious. "Is that what Detective Quinn thinks?"
"He's not saying anything yet, but he has sent for Jonathan's dental records."
That would make sense. Nowadays, sophisticated forensic dentistry and special X rays made it possible to identify victims no matter how badly they were burned. "I still don't understand why you came to me," he said. He did, but a perverse part of him wanted her to spell it out.
"The desk clerk at the motel is the only one who can identify the occupant of room 116. Unfortunately he's in the hospital with severe burns. He won't be able to talk to the police until he's off the critical list. There are other motel employees but Detective Quinn is playing hardball. He won't let me speak to them."
"That's his right."
"I realize that." She kept her expression neutral. "That's why I'm here.
I'd like you to call him. Nick. I need to talk to those people."
"Cops don't like other cops butting in."
"You wouldn't be butting in. Quinn plans to notify the PPD. He may already have."
"So why not check with Mariani at the Roundhouse? Or any other detective?"
"Oh, come on. Nick." Her smile was sarcastic. "Do you really think that anyone at police headquarters will want
"Defend yourself how?" He had been trying to put that damn night behind him for weeks and now here it was, shoved down his throat once again. "You were interested in only one thing--breaking that story."
A light flush rushed to her cheeks. "That's not true! I didn't give a damn about the story. All I wanted was to help a friend in trouble. I never thought for one moment that an undercover cop would be there. If I had ..." She looked away, as if the memories of that night were too painful to think about.
Nick tossed the hand wrap on the bench and started removing the other.
"You should have called me when Dr. Ho gave the paper bag to Randy Chen."
"You wouldn't have made it to the warehouse in time."
"I could have questioned your instructor."
"He wouldn't have told you a thing. He was too scared."
Nick said nothing. What was there to say? All the accusations in the world wouldn't bring Matt back.
In spite of the uncomfortable silence, Kelly showed no sign of leaving.
Instead, she came to stand in front of him, so close he could smell that perfume she used all the time. He remembered its name. Magic Noire.
Black magic. Once he had wondered what it would feel like to fall under the spell of Kelly Robolo .
She looked at him without flinching. "I need your help. Nick."
He hadn't expected that, not after their last conversation. "Then you've come to the wrong guy." He started to turn around, but she stopped him by touching his arm. Almost immediately she pulled her hand back.
"
Victoria
's husband is missing."
The sentence, spoken in one fast breath, took him aback. He waited a moment, absorbing the news. Although he had never met Jonathan Bowman, he knew he was a vice president at the Chenonceau , where Nick's late father had worked as chief of security.
Nick's antennae popped up. They always did when Syd Webber was involved, even indirectly. "How long?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"What does Webber say?"
"He is as baffled as we are. Yesterday morning, Jonathan called his secretary and told her he wouldn't be coming in because he was sick.
Moments later, he called
Victoria
and told her Syd was sending him to
Miami
on business and he wouldn't be back until late afternoon, in time for his young daughter's dance recital."
Nick remembered his own marriage and how badly he had wanted to get away at times. "Men need space."
"At four o'clock this morning," Kelly continued, "a Detective Quinn from the
Miami
police called to say that a bomb had exploded in some seedy motel off Interstate 95. Jonathan was not among the injured but a charred body was found in room 116, where he was supposed to have been staying. I don't believe that body is his. I don't even believe Jonathan was ever in that motel."
Nick couldn't help it, he was curious. "Is that what Detective Quinn thinks?"
"He's not saying anything yet, but he has sent for Jonathan's dental records."
That would make sense. Nowadays, sophisticated forensic dentistry and special X rays made it possible to identify victims no matter how badly they were burned. "I still don't understand why you came to me," he said. He did, but a perverse part of him wanted her to spell it out.
"The desk clerk at the motel is the only one who can identify the occupant of room 116. Unfortunately he's in the hospital with severe burns. He won't be able to talk to the police until he's off the critical list. There are other motel employees but Detective Quinn is playing hardball. He won't let me speak to them."
"That's his right."
"I realize that." She kept her expression neutral. "That's why I'm here.
I'd like you to call him. Nick. I need to talk to those people."
"Cops don't like other cops butting in."
"You wouldn't be butting in. Quinn plans to notify the PPD. He may already have."
"So why not check with Mariani at the Roundhouse? Or any other detective?"
"Oh, come on. Nick." Her smile was sarcastic. "Do you really think that anyone at police headquarters will want
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