beginning, and carry on from there.”
Chapter 5
A little after eight P.M., I found a parking space on “the Hill,” the typical college-town business area near the CU campus. Linda Delgardio had arranged to meet me at a local dive there. She was working a four-to-midnight shift all this month, so this was her dinner break. An hour earlier, I’d called Steve Sullivan’s cell phone and tried to convince him to join us, but he remained intent on keeping watch over Laura’s house, certain she was going to skip town, just as she had last year.
Linda was just finishing her burger and fries when I arrived at the noisy, greasy-smelling sandwich joint; I ordered a glass of water. Linda was having a bad day; her partner had called in sick, and Linda looked more than a little under the weather herself. Her nose was red, and her normally sparkling dark eyes were dull. Her long black hair was pinned up as usual whenever she was on duty, a failed attempt—even despite her head-cold symptoms— to make her nondescript within her masculine uniform. We wasted little time with small talk before I asked, “Do you know if there were any undercover police officers at Paprika’s last night?”
“I doubt it. Usually we just use undercover cops for things like drug trafficking . . . a kitchenware store hardly qualifies as a hot spot for drug deals.”
“But maybe, since Audrey Munroe’s a local celebrity and was speaking, the police could have sent someone to keep an eye out, in case someone wanted to harass her.”
Linda shook her head. “We’d just send a uniformed officer. It’s possible a narc was there as part of some ongoing investigation, I suppose, but he’d have kept a low profile. You wouldn’t have even known he was there. Why? What’s up?”
To the best of my ability, I related every detail of the events of last night at Paprika’s and my visit this morning to Laura’s home, as well as Sullivan’s heated conversation with Laura on her front porch. “My suspicion is that she’s either swindling Dave Holland out of his money or she’s setting up a big insurance fraud—planning to set the house on fire and collect on the lost possessions . . . which won’t actually be lost at all.”
“Sounds that way,” Linda replied. She sneezed and blew her nose. “You want me to question her?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Okay. If nothing else, I want to ask her myself about Evan Cambridge’s whereabouts. That’s bound to make her think twice about trying to pull another scam anytime soon. I’ll let you know how it goes.” She grabbed her pen and notepad. “What’s the address?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to be cut out of the picture, and I was painfully aware of how important this whole thing was to Sullivan. “Actually, Steve Sullivan’s already there, watching the house from a car down the street for fear she’ll take off again. So . . . I was kind of hoping you’d let me come with you. Would that be possible?”
She raised an eyebrow and peered at me. “You want to ride out there and swear out a complaint against this woman in person?” She leaned back in her chair and added sarcastically, “Will you at least allow me to drive the squad car myself?”
I grinned in spite of myself. “Okay, point taken.”
“Are things really that slow in the interior design business that you’re desperate to go on police ride-alongs? Even if I wanted to take you with me tonight, Erin, I couldn’t. Not till the proper paperwork’s filed that says you won’t sue us if you get shot, maimed . . . the usual drill.”
“But if Steve and I happen to be waiting outside her house when you arrive, and Laura’s willing to let us all in, that would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
She rubbed her forehead and frowned.
I took a sip of water, feeling uncomfortable, hoping that I wouldn’t have to explain myself. “This is important to me, Linda.”
She regarded me for a moment. “Aren’t you dating someone
Chapter 5
A little after eight P.M., I found a parking space on “the Hill,” the typical college-town business area near the CU campus. Linda Delgardio had arranged to meet me at a local dive there. She was working a four-to-midnight shift all this month, so this was her dinner break. An hour earlier, I’d called Steve Sullivan’s cell phone and tried to convince him to join us, but he remained intent on keeping watch over Laura’s house, certain she was going to skip town, just as she had last year.
Linda was just finishing her burger and fries when I arrived at the noisy, greasy-smelling sandwich joint; I ordered a glass of water. Linda was having a bad day; her partner had called in sick, and Linda looked more than a little under the weather herself. Her nose was red, and her normally sparkling dark eyes were dull. Her long black hair was pinned up as usual whenever she was on duty, a failed attempt—even despite her head-cold symptoms— to make her nondescript within her masculine uniform. We wasted little time with small talk before I asked, “Do you know if there were any undercover police officers at Paprika’s last night?”
“I doubt it. Usually we just use undercover cops for things like drug trafficking . . . a kitchenware store hardly qualifies as a hot spot for drug deals.”
“But maybe, since Audrey Munroe’s a local celebrity and was speaking, the police could have sent someone to keep an eye out, in case someone wanted to harass her.”
Linda shook her head. “We’d just send a uniformed officer. It’s possible a narc was there as part of some ongoing investigation, I suppose, but he’d have kept a low profile. You wouldn’t have even known he was there. Why? What’s up?”
To the best of my ability, I related every detail of the events of last night at Paprika’s and my visit this morning to Laura’s home, as well as Sullivan’s heated conversation with Laura on her front porch. “My suspicion is that she’s either swindling Dave Holland out of his money or she’s setting up a big insurance fraud—planning to set the house on fire and collect on the lost possessions . . . which won’t actually be lost at all.”
“Sounds that way,” Linda replied. She sneezed and blew her nose. “You want me to question her?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Okay. If nothing else, I want to ask her myself about Evan Cambridge’s whereabouts. That’s bound to make her think twice about trying to pull another scam anytime soon. I’ll let you know how it goes.” She grabbed her pen and notepad. “What’s the address?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to be cut out of the picture, and I was painfully aware of how important this whole thing was to Sullivan. “Actually, Steve Sullivan’s already there, watching the house from a car down the street for fear she’ll take off again. So . . . I was kind of hoping you’d let me come with you. Would that be possible?”
She raised an eyebrow and peered at me. “You want to ride out there and swear out a complaint against this woman in person?” She leaned back in her chair and added sarcastically, “Will you at least allow me to drive the squad car myself?”
I grinned in spite of myself. “Okay, point taken.”
“Are things really that slow in the interior design business that you’re desperate to go on police ride-alongs? Even if I wanted to take you with me tonight, Erin, I couldn’t. Not till the proper paperwork’s filed that says you won’t sue us if you get shot, maimed . . . the usual drill.”
“But if Steve and I happen to be waiting outside her house when you arrive, and Laura’s willing to let us all in, that would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
She rubbed her forehead and frowned.
I took a sip of water, feeling uncomfortable, hoping that I wouldn’t have to explain myself. “This is important to me, Linda.”
She regarded me for a moment. “Aren’t you dating someone
Similar Books
