Changeling Detective Agency - Shadows In The Starlight Part 10

"You grasp the situation precisely."

"I grasp that it's supremely f.u.c.ked up," Damian observed.

"This doesn't concern you," the blond man said coolly.

"Actually, I'd say it does." Gwen tipped her head toward Damian. "That guy isn't one of us. Even better, he doesn't answer to me. I'm not his boss, partner, wife, mother, or girlfriend. I am in no way responsible for what he does, nor do I direct his actions in any way. In fact, at the moment it's the other way around.

This is his party, and I'm the tagalong."

The young cop knew a cue when he heard one. He pulled his gun and aimed it at the man's kneecap.

"You think?" he asked Gwen.

She shrugged. "Let's see what he's got to say first. Start with your name," she told him.

"Adrian," he offered. "When I'm required to offer a surname, I use Archer."

"Okay, Adrian Archer, what's your gig these days, now that Edmonson's gone?"

"Much the same as before. I do whatever the earl's business affairs require. At present I'm running the clubs until his heir steps forward to claim them."

Gwen suddenly had a bad feeling about this. "His heir?"

"The closest kin. In the earl's case," he said meaningfully, "his only kin."

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," she murmured.

Damian caught on fast. "Wait a d.a.m.n minute," he demanded. "You're related to this Edmonson guy? And you just inherited a couple of high-ticket t.i.tty bars?"

"She will come into a considerable amount of property," Adrian responded. A tiny smile nickered at the corner of his lips. "Provided, of course, she meets the terms of inheritance."

"Gee, I can't wait to hear those," Gwen said with heavy sarcasm. "You guys have lawyers?"

"Of course. You would have been contacted once the official mourning period ended."

"Since I've shed all the tears I plan to, why don't you just give me the highlights."

He shook his head. "I am bound by certain oaths. I will turn the earl's affairs over to you, but severaldays remain to the mourning period."

Gwen thought this over. "I suppose you know where I live?"

"Of course."

"All right, then, we'll let you go if you give me your oath that when the mourning period ends, you'll contact me and lay out everything you know about the earl's drug business. Swear it by moon and star, wind and word."

Adrian looked at Gwen as if she'd finally said something interesting. "That is a most solemn oath."

"Yeah, it's a favorite of mine, too. Let's hear it."

When he said the words, Gwen returned her gun to its holster and gave him a curt nod. "See you around, Archer."

He touched two fingers to his forehead and melted off into the shadows.

An angry cras.h.i.+ng erupted from a stand of bushes behind them. Gary Quaid came wading toward them, crumbled leaves in his brown hair and an angry scowl on his face.

"What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you two? You're letting dealers walk now?"

"He'll be back," Gwen stated.

Quaid's eyes narrowed. "And you know this how?"

"Because I can't eat French fries anymore," Gwen told him. She shrugged at his puzzled frown. "Long story."

Quaid's breath hissed out in obvious exasperation. He sucked air in slowly, through clenched teeth, clearly fueling up for a major a.s.s-chewing.

"Hold on," Damian told Quaid as he stepped between the former partners. "Before you two start throwing punches, there's something you need to see. We came out here for more than one reason.

Follow me, and keep it quiet."

He took off without waiting for a response. Quaid glanced at Gwen. When she didn't offer any explanation, he shrugged and fell into step behind his rookie.

The three of them left the path and walked quietly to the other side of the park and around behind a thick stand of trees. Damian motioned for them to get down.

After a few minutes, three men slipped out of the shadows and off into the night.

When they were out of earshot, Damian said, "See that bench there, right by the trees? When I did the paperwork for this bust, that's the place I said we were supposed to meet the dealer. Anyone at the station could have read it. But I told you and the contact to come to another place, at a later time. Those guys have been waiting here for maybe an hour."

"It's a freaking ambush," Gwen summarized.

Quaid nodded slowly. "And the only way those guys would have known where to meet you is if someone in the vice squad told them. Smart move on your part."His choice of words made Gwen wince. Quaid's chowder-thick Rhode Island accent left him severely R-impaired. Sentences such as "Smot move on yoah pot" were particularly painful.

On the other hand, Quaid's reaction answered an important question. He had no idea about the ambush.

It wasn't absolute proof that he wasn't dirty, but at least he wasn't the one who'd betrayed his young partner.

"Switching the meeting place was Gellman's idea," Damian said. He sent her a wry grin. "I gotta tell you, I'm pretty f.u.c.king glad I ran the plan past her."

His voice came out a little shaky. Gwen slid an arm around the young cop's shoulders, but no rea.s.suring words came to her mind.

"So what do we do now?" Damian demanded.

Quaid turned a cool, measuring stare toward Gwen. "We continue what Gellman started: figure out who's feeding info to Walsh."

"What do you-" Damian stopped short as understanding hit. "d.a.m.n, Gellman-you thought Quaid was the rat?"

"It's important to rule out possibilities," the cop said evenly. "In her shoes, I would have done the same thing."

They walked several blocks in somber silence, coming to Damian's car first. The rookie nodded good night and took off. Gwen batted away the resulting exhaust fumes and turned to face her former partner.

"Since we walked past your car on the last street, I figure you've got something to say to me."

Quaid folded his arms and returned her stare. "I saw Kate Myers last week. She said the two of you started running together."

Gwen frowned. Quaid had never been much for small talk, but that was abrupt even for him. "That's right. So?"

"If you don't mind me asking, how did that come about?"

She shrugged. "We both live on the East Side. We both run. It's convenient."

"But who initiated it?"

"Kate did," she said slowly. "What's this about?"

He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared moodily at the house across the street. "I started dating Kate shortly after you and I were partnered up. A week or two after I break up with Kate, I find out that you two are buddies? It doesn't play right."

"You think she might be keeping an eye on me?"

"It crossed my mind."

"For whom?"

"Well, that's the question, isn't it?"Gwen thought this over. The most likely culprit would be Dennis Walsh, but it wouldn't be the first time Internal Affairs decided to observe a cop under investigation through an unconventional angle. After the raid on Winston's, IA had been all over her. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Kate Myers had been recruited to pick up secondhand info from Gwen's partner, then to observe Gwen herself.

Seriously sleazy, yes, but the Providence police force wasn't exactly a hotbed of trust and brotherly love.

Like the time a small silver disk with flas.h.i.+ng lights was found in an interrogation room, and the police department, a.s.suming IA was checking on the cops, had an outside company evaluate the object. The hired geeks declared it a high-tech listening device. Local newscasts were all over that, and eventually it came out that the "high-tech device" had broken off a cheap piece of costume jewelry. An earring, to be precise. Gwen had laughed herself silly over that one. For starters, you'd think the thick s.h.i.+theads at the station would think to ask why anyone would design a "secret device" to look like a tiny disco lamp.

It just went to show how paranoid cops in the post-Buddy era had become. The police force had often been described as Buddy Ciencia's private army, and the former mayor's ouster on corruption charges made a lot of government employees nervous. Gwen had experienced firsthand the let's-clean-house mentality that could transform accusation into nightmare and turn long-term friends and coworkers into cold-eyed strangers. Against that backdrop, Quaid's concerns didn't seem quite so outlandish.

"Did Kate ask a lot of questions about your work?" she asked.

"Some," Quaid admitted. "I didn't think much of it. Since she's an ME, some of her cases overlapped with mine."

"When Kate and I run, I'm the one asking questions, but I suppose that's another way of gathering info.

Asking questions gives a pretty clear picture of what I know and where I'm thinking of heading. If someone wanted to find out my thoughts concerning Frank Cross's death, Kate would be the person to ask."

"There you go," he said glumly.

"I asked Kate to do Frank Cross's autopsy," she reminded him. "When it comes to coincidence, I'm as skeptical as the next guy, but that puts a dent in your 'let's keep an eye on Gellman' theory."

"Yeah, but did she bother to tell you that she was the only ME working that week? She would have done the autopsy regardless."

"Hmmm. Must have slipped her mind," Gwen murmured. "Interesting theory you've got going about your ex-girlfriend."

He shrugged. "You're not the only one crossing names off a list."

"You mind telling me why you thought to look at her? I mean, she's an ME. That's related to the job, sure, but a corpse-cutter playing Mata Hari?"

"She started pressuring me to back away from the investigation of that nightclub bust," Quaid said softly.

"When I asked her where that was coming from, she tells me about what was done to Moniz and Yoland in the morgue. Says it was a warning to the cops to stay away. The weird thing was, no one else at the station said word one about it. I figured she was making it up."

"No, it happened," Gwen told him. "Teresa Moniz confirmed. She insisted on seeing her husband's body, and she made a sketch of the design cut into him."

Quaid looked genuinely shocked. "No way.""In context, it made sense. The design was some sort of mystical symbol, and she's into that stuff. It's also the same markings we found on the women the Jamisons tortured and killed. When they weren't playing those games, the Jamisons dealt party drugs for the guy who owned Winston's. It all ties in."

The cop's brow furrowed. "But Tiger Leone died in the raid."

Since Gwen was the one who'd killed him, this wasn't exactly news. "Tiger wasn't the owner. The paperwork was set up to make it look that way. Tiger worked for a guy named Wallace Edmonson.

Him, we won't find-he's in the wind. As of last week, he's out of the country. Last known destination, Athens."

Quaid took this in. "So Kate was telling the truth about what happened to those cops. About the warning."

"Yes," Gwen said slowly, "but come to think of it, maybe the warning wasn't directed at the police.

Maybe the message was for Kate. That would explain why no one at the station heard about it. Both men were cremated, so there wouldn't be any buzz coming back from funeral directors. If Kate hadn't said anything to you, it would have stayed with her."

"What about Teresa Moniz?"

"Psychic. She's the real deal, so you can stop rolling your eyes. I'm betting she got a feeling that something had happened. If she came down to the morgue and demanded to see her husband's body, there's not much Kate could do."

Quaid huffed out a long sigh and folded his arms. "For argument's sake, let's say you're right. That means Kate would be tied in with this Edmonson guy, right?" He shook his head in disbelief. "A drug dealer, a guy who owns sleazy clubs, and Kate? How the h.e.l.l did that connection happen?"

"Edmonson was really good at roping people in. You said you've been talking to Kate. Did she by any chance know that we were coming out here tonight?"

"Not unless you told her," he said.

Gwen shook her head. "I haven't talked to her since Monday night. She knew I had a cla.s.s on Tuesday, and I left a message on her machine telling her I couldn't run tonight."

A silence fell between them. "Can you look into possible ties between Kate and Edmonson?"

"First thing tomorrow," she a.s.sured him.

"Good. I'd love to be proven wrong on this."

"But you don't think you are."

Quaid shrugged. "Gut feeling."

"Yeah, but your gut's been wrong before," Gwen said lightly, hoping to tease some of the veiled sorrow from his eyes. "You thought I was one of the bad guys."

He turned to her, and his bleak expression didn't brighten in the slightest. "This Edmonson is in Athens, you say?"

"That's what his pa.s.sport says. But by this time, I doubt you'd find him there."The cop nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from her face. "Yeah, I doubt that, too."

A knot started to form in Gwen's throat. Had Damian pa.s.sed along what she'd told him about Edmonson? Surely not-he couldn't let slip that Edmonson was dead without revealing what he knew of Gwen's odd heritage.