Run For The Money

Ed shrugged. “He’s upset, but then who could blame him? You’re the future Mrs. Santorelli. Possible First Lady. How’s it gonna look if you’ve got a parole officer following you around the White House?”

I moved back to sit next to him. “That’s not fair, Ed.”

He frowned at me. “You think I care about being fair? The guy bought you a Mercedes. He asked you to marry him on a billboard. He wants to make you First Lady. How the hell can I compete with that?”

“It’s not a competition.”

“You don’t know one damn thing about guys, Pink. It’s always about competition. Always.”

“So buy me a Mercedes and ask me to marry you on a billboard. You can afford it. Granted, you can’t get to that First Lady thing very easily, but you could run for mayor and I could be First Lady of Midland.”

“You’re not even kinda funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Ed. I’m pointing out that what works for one guy won’t work for another.” I looked up at him. “As well as you know me, do you think I really give a hang about a car, or a romantic billboard, or living at the White House? I mean, seriously?”

He blinked a couple of times. “Hell, I don’t know. You’re a girl, and girls always go for that kinda stuff.”

“I said no. About the billboard, I mean.”

His laugh didn’t hold a lot of humor. “I know how that feels.” He leaned back in the chair until it rested on the rear legs. “Maybe you should say yes. I’m thinking being the fiancée of a Big Dog senator would get you a little more leeway. They might actually give it a shot to find who really did swipe five hundred Gs from CERF and who offed Taylor.”

Shocked and amazed, I gave him a scrutinizing look. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight.”

“So I should get engaged to Steve, then break it off after I’m exonerated?”

Ed shrugged. “I guess that would be up to you.”

“You really do hate his guts, don’t you?”

“Not true. I actually think he’s an okay guy. And it’s clear he’s got it bad for you, Pink. Crazy in love, even.”

“It would be incredibly selfish and cruel to say yes, then break it off. I’d be using him, and there’s no way I’ll do it.”

“Maybe you should suggest it. Be up-front about it.”

“Suppose I did, and he said yes. How would you feel about that?”

He dropped all four chair legs back to the linoleum floor. “For now, I’m willing to step aside, if it means keeping you out of prison.”

I jumped to my feet and started around the room again. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Be all selfless and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you wonderful. Take your clothes off.”

I stopped. “You can’t be serious!”

He stared at my cleavage. “As a heart attack.”

I began to pace again and he watched me for a while before he said, “All of our issues aside, I gotta say we’re unparalleled in the sack.”

“Gimme a break, Ed. It’s never been just about sex.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “Yeah, well, all of it’s moot if I don’t get you cleaned up for the arraignment. Come here and take off that dress.”

I went to him and took off the dress. He rose from grabbing the bag and froze, his gaze fixed on my breasts, which were sort of way out there on account of I had on a push-up bra.

“I guess it’d be really bad form to make love to you right now.”

“Really bad. For one thing, I’m not into being watched, and Clara might have a stroke out there by the window. For another, it would only be fun for you. I’m freaking out way too bad to enjoy it, Ed.”

He pulled a black dress out of the bag. “Another difference between men and women.”

“We wear dresses and you don’t?”

As he slid it over my head, his hands brushed my breasts, and it was definitely not accidental. “We can enjoy sex anywhere, anytime.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it made, Ed, you and the rest of humans with penises. You can pee anywhere, as well.” I shimmied until the dress fell around my thighs. “Speaking of which, I haven’t since before they locked me up. I refused to do it in front of all those women and the guards. It’s inhumane the way they have a toilet in there, just open, for anyone to watch.”

“I’ll get you to a bathroom, don’t worry.” He pulled a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste out of the bag. “I thought this would feel good.”

“Lord, yes! You wouldn’t happen to have some lipstick in there, would you?”

He produced a tube of passion pink.

“Ed, you’re the man.”

He pulled a black jacket out of the bag. “Put this on.”

I did, and he handed me a pair of black-framed glasses and a hair clip. “Now put these on, and pull back your hair.”

“But I don’t wear glasses.”

“They’re just glass. I want you to look like a serious CPA. But not dowdy or poor. I want you to look classy.”

When I was done, he inspected me. “After you brush your teeth and put on some lipstick, you’ll do. Now, all you have to do in there is stand up when I tell you to, look directly at the judge and don’t say anything. Got it?”

I nodded and he knocked on the door for Clara to let us out.

Twenty minutes later I was in a crowded courtroom, with a lot of other souls awaiting arraignment. When it was our turn, the room went curiously silent, which increased my tension a million times over.

To hear the prosecuting attorney tell it, I was a dangerous, murderous, conniving thief, a real menace to society. Lucky for me, the judge remembered my testimony to the finance committee and thought I was not so dangerous. When Ed requested that I be released on my own recognizance, the judge said he couldn’t do that, based on my charges, but he thought a million bucks bail would do nicely.

I hadn’t actually considered that I couldn’t make bail. I might be locked up until my trial. While I was standing there, freaking out, Ed nudged me and whispered, “Let’s get the hell outta here, Pink.”

“But what about bail?”

He looked down at me and said with just a trace of bitterness, “Mister Billboard is gonna cover it.”

Within the hour, we were riding through the streets of Washington in Mister Billboard’s Mercedes and words could never describe how awkward it was. Before we even got in the car, it was awkward. Steve was pretty emotional and hugged me a lot and asked if I was okay and did I need anything, at least fifteen times. I thanked him for bailing me out, and Ed said nothing. In the car, while Steve asked a hundred questions, Ed didn’t say anything. Steve insisted I go back to his place because Mom was there, and because the media was bound to descend on my building as soon as they figured out where I lived. The loft was leased to CERF, so it would take them a bit to find me, thank God.

I wanted some other clothes, so we went by my loft, and while I wandered around looking over the mess the cops had left after their search, Ed didn’t say a word. I grabbed some clothes and my boots, then shoved all of it, along with some makeup, into a leather backpack.

In the elevator, Steve said to Ed, “This is gonna be a lot worse on her if you don’t lighten up.”

Ed scowled at him. “She’s not made out of glass.”

Steve glanced at me, then looked at Ed. “You got a problem with me, say the word.”

“Just how long do you think it’d take them to throw me in jail after I beat the shit out of a United States senator?”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

“Do I look worried?”

“You look like a real pissed-off guy.”

“You’re pretty fucking smart.” He paused. “For a senator.”

The door opened, but neither of them made a move to get off. I did.

And they stayed.

The door closed and I flinched when I heard a loud thud. I stood there and watched the numbers on the lighted panel. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Four. Three. Two. One, and the door opened. They both stood at the back of the elevator, looking like two guys about to kick the living daylights out of each other. A small woman and her little dog were in front, and when the door slid open, she stepped out, evidently oblivious to what she’d interrupted. Without looking at me standing there in front of the elevator, Steve reached over, pushed the button, and the door closed again.

I went to the small bench in the lobby of the building and sat down to wait.

They rode the damn elevator up to the fifth floor two more times before they got all the testosterone out of their systems. After the second trip, they staggered out and made their way to the front door of the building. Almost as an afterthought, they looked toward me and waved for me to follow. I’d say it was a toss-up as to who won. They both looked pretty ragged, but no one looked like they needed to stop by the ER.

The car ride to Steve’s house was silent, but the tension was gone. When we got there, Lou took one look at them and died laughing. Mom rushed me, almost knocking me down, and before I could make any protest, she dragged me upstairs, down the hall and into the bedroom at the end. I barely had a chance to notice the furniture and the decor, which had sort of a George Washington Extreme Makeover look to it, before Mom propelled me to one of the chairs set in front of a fireplace.

“I swear to God I’ve lost ten years off my life,” she said as she sank into the opposite, matching chair.

I noticed she had on a ratty pair of jeans and a white linen blouse, her dark hair up in a chip clip—and she was barefoot.

I was wondering about her interesting, relaxed look when she asked, “Are you okay? I mean, they didn’t do anything weird to you, did they?”

“Not if you don’t count making me hang out with some very smelly women. In fact, I’d really like to take a shower before I tell you all the gory details.”

Looking horrified, Mom bounced up and ran to the bathroom, where she started the shower. “I’m so sorry, baby. What was I thinking? Of course you must feel icky. Oh, God, I can’t believe this is happening.” She came out of the bathroom and stopped by the bed to stare at me, her lip trembling. “What are we gonna do?”

I stood and slipped out of my new jacket and dress before I went to her. “I’ve got a plan, Mom, but I can’t tell you what it is. If I did, if you knew where I was going and what I was doing, you’d have to lie if the police came looking for me.” I walked around her and headed for the bathroom, shucking my bra and panties as I went. “Just let me get cleaned up and have something to eat, and we’ll talk.”

Mom being Mom, she wasn’t gonna let it go for another second, much less the time it would take me to shower and eat. She followed me into the bathroom and sat on the sink while I took a shower, yelling over the running water, “From what you said, I assume you’re planning to do something illegal, and I won’t let you do it. You can’t afford to get into worse trouble. You’re already in so deep, I don’t see how you’re going to get out.”

“I told you, I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“All I’ll say is that when I’m done, I’ll know who set me up.” I peeked around the shower curtain. “When you get back to Midland, call Aunt Fred’s friend, that Chinese history guy, and ask him to take a look at the stuff sent to me by Valikov Interiors. I bet they’re all fakes. One of the invoices the detective found at Taylor’s was for a twenty-two-thousand-dollar Yuan Dynasty jade horse.”

Mom’s eyes were wide. “You could be on to something—because most Chinese antiques are fakes. Mao Zedong demolished almost everything during the Cultural Revolution.” She frowned. “Did they have jade horses in the Yuan Dynasty?”

“Aunt Fred’s history guy will know.”

“True, but the Midland police probably have all of the stuff from Valikov locked up as evidence. They won’t let him examine the pieces.”

“I’ll get Ed to call his brother, Hank. He’s a Midland cop, and he’ll work it out.”

“Do you have to stay in Washington?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m not.”

“If you break bail it’ll cost Steve a million dollars.”

“The preliminary hearing is in two weeks, and by then, I intend to have everything I need to get the judge to throw the case out. I won’t break bail.” Looking around the curtain again, I saw that she had a huge worry wrinkle across her forehead. “Mom, I have to do this. If I don’t, I’m history. You need to go home, to Midland, and not ask any questions. No matter what happens, if you don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing, no one can make you tell them. It’s better this way, so you need to set aside that Mom thing you do and chill out.”

“It’s not like I have an on–off switch, Pink.”

“Okay, so worry about it, and cry a lot, and lose sleep. But the result will be the same. I’ll either find the bastard who did this to me, or I won’t.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?”

I let the water run down my back while I stared at the pretty mosaic tile in Steve’s guest-room shower. “I wish I did.” Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. Valikov Interiors. It was a Russian name. And Olga, she of the killer salad, was Russian. Mrs. Han, the lost Chinese wife, was Russian. It didn’t make any sense that the Chinese bride scheme was connected to the CERF embezzlement, but that Russian thing was way weird. And there was the phone call. I was still mulling over the significance of why Olga would call Taylor, then pretend she’d called me, in order to get me on the phone. Did Olga know Taylor had those invoices? Was she the one who put them on her doorstep?

“What have you heard about Ambassador Wu and the mysterious Olga?”

Mom didn’t answer.

“Mom?”

Hearing the shower curtain open slowly, I opened my eyes. Ed. His bottom lip was a little swollen and his left cheek was turning an intriguing shade of blue. “If you came for sympathy, you came to the wrong place. Getting in an elevator brawl with a U.S. senator isn’t in the lawyer’s code of ethics, I’m thinking.” I looked behind him. “What did you do with Mom?”

“She went downstairs to see the state-department guy who came by to ask questions about Mr. Wu.”

I turned off the water and reached for a towel. “Will he want to talk to me, since I’m supposedly the one who killed the poor man?”

“He may want to talk to you, but not because he thinks you’re the murderer. For that matter, I’m not convinced Schumski thinks you did it. I believe he was just trying to scare you into confessing to Taylor’s murder.”

“Have they found Olga?”

“Not yet. She left town last night, on a flight to Albuquerque, but they lost her trail after that. She’s suspected of being connected to the Russian mob, which means she’s got lots of connections to help her move around undetected.” He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest while he watched me dry off. “I overheard what you said to Jane.”

“And you’re going to give me your standard lawyer lecture about letting the authorities do their job.” I bent and twisted my hair in the towel, then straightened. “Save your breath, Counselor.”

“Actually, I was going to tell you to let me do some investigating and see what I turn up.”

After sliding into the terry robe I found hanging on the back of the door, I walked into the bedroom and curled up in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He followed and leaned against the bedpost, his hands in his pockets.

“You have permission to go to Midland. Anywhere else is not gonna happen, Pink.”

“Okay,” I lied.

He peered at me through narrowed eyes. “If you don’t stick to the deal, they really will lock you up until your case goes to trial, and that may be months from now.”

“Suppose we have enough by the prelim to prove I didn’t do it?”

“Then you’re off the hook, but there’s no guarantee we can find what we need by then.” He walked closer and stared down at my face. “You have to trust me.”

Considering most of our problems were rooted in major trust issues—mostly on my part—I could see that this was going to be more than just a lawyer asking his client to hang loose and let him do his job. This was gonna be about me trusting Ed to get me out of hot water.

Well, hell.

Why did everything always have to be so complicated? Why did Ed have to be so complicated? The problem was, even though I did trust him, I didn’t trust him enough. This was my life. Screw this up and I’d be spending the rest of it behind bars.

Looking up at him, I chose my words carefully. “I have a plan, and some of it involves doing things that aren’t exactly legal. I don’t think we can find this person any other way. I can’t ask you to do something illegal for me, Ed.”

Backing up, he sat down on the opposite chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, until his shoes were touching the legs of my chair. “What did you have in mind?”

“First of all, I’ll call Owl Nunez to do some hacking for me, to find out who owns the Valikov Interiors checking account.”

“I already did that.”

In spite of what I know about Ed and his tendency to bend the rules a bit, I was surprised. “Hacking is a crime. A big one.”

“I didn’t do any hacking. Owl did.”

“But you paid him to do it. Same difference.”

“No money was exchanged, so no one could prove it.”

He was blowing my mind. “What did he find?”

“Nothing yet. I should hear something in the next few hours.”

“What do you plan to do with the information?”

“Pay a visit to whoever Owl tells me owns the account and find out what they did with the money, and whether they’re the one who set up the Whitney Pearl account in Kansas.”

“See, that’s where I’d do it differently. I don’t think that person will tell you, and why would they? Somebody went to a lot of trouble to set this up, to make it look like I bought expensive things from Valikov. I think it was done so that if anything went wrong, if anybody caught on at CERF, I’d be the one who did the embezzling, and whoever’s behind Valikov would look like nothing more than the person I chose to buy stuff from. If a bank robber uses his stolen money to buy a new car, the dealership can’t be held accountable.”

“That’s why I asked Owl to get Valikov’s bank records. If the only deposits are from Whitney Pearl, it’ll be obvious the company is a sham.”

“And if there are other deposits? What then?”

He shrugged. “I’ll go to the company’s offices and find somebody who’ll answer my questions.”

“Suppose it’s a legitimate company, and there’s someone in the ranks who’s working in collusion with the real culprit?”

Ed dropped his gaze to my chest. “I’ll find out who placed the orders.”

Looking down, I realized my robe was wide open. “You coulda said something.” I pulled it together and tied the belt.

“That’s why I didn’t.”

“You’re a perv.”

“Hmm, probably. Or maybe you just have extremely great breasts.” He got to his feet and went to the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Are you going to cook?”

“I’m going to eat. Lou’s working on some kinda chicken thing. With mushrooms.”

Turning in the chair, I said, “You hate mushrooms.”

Ed stared at me. “I also hate Mister Billboard, but I’m gonna go down there and make nice with him, just like I’m gonna make like I want to eat the stinkin’ ’shrooms.”

“Why?”

“For you, babydoll. All for you.”

I must have drifted off to sleep, and when I woke up, I was in the bed. Steve sat just next to me, reading some official-looking report. His little Chihuahua, Natasha, was curled up at the end of the bed, on my feet. Steve isn’t really a Chihuahua kinda guy. He’s more the sort who’d have a greyhound, or maybe a King Charles spaniel. But his mother loved Chihuahuas, and Natasha was the daughter of Mrs. Santorelli’s favorite. Lou had Natasha’s brother, Boris. I thought it was sweet how two extremely macho men cared for wee, tiny dogs because they’d meant so much to Mrs. Santorelli.

Gauging the light in the window, I judged it to be late afternoon, almost evening. I’d been asleep since before lunch, at least seven or eight hours.

I noticed Steve had on a pair of running shorts and a faded Stanford T-shirt. He could be any guy, anywhere. But he wasn’t. He was a senator. A very rich one, who probably really could make it to the White House because he was all about integrity and hard work and he had charisma in spades.

“Where is Ed?”

“During lunch, he got a phone call from a friend in Midland and said he had to leave.”

I was gonna kill him. Ed hadn’t woken me up to tell me what Owl had found out. No doubt on purpose, so I wouldn’t insist on going with him.

Laying the report on his thighs, Steve looked down at me. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes. And thirsty, and still sleepy, and wondering what I’ve missed this afternoon.”

He reached for the phone by the bed and punched in some numbers. “Carla, would you bring Pink something to eat? Thanks.” After he hung up, he laid the report on the table, then turned and slid farther down on the bed, propping his head in one hand while he stroked my hair with the other.

“Your face looks a little better than Ed’s.”

He grinned. “What can I say? I’m much better looking. It’s the Italian thing.”

“You know what I meant.”

“True, but I’d prefer to interpret it my own way.”

I stared at him and couldn’t help smiling. “When’s the last time you got in a fistfight?”

“Ninth grade. This kid from Australia was a foreign-exchange student, a cocky little bastard, and he told everybody he’d seen my mom in an Italian porn flick. So I beat him up—and got suspended. But it was worth it.”

“What did your mom have to say about it?”

“She gave me a lecture about being a gentleman, but I overheard her tell Dad she wished she coulda been there to see it. He said he wished he coulda seen the Italian porn flick.”

“Your mom must have been a pistol.”

“She was.” He sighed, dropped his hand and lay down on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Sometimes, when I’m in a hurry and things get crazy, I forget that she’s dead and pick up the phone to call her. Strange, but I never do that with Lauren. I never forget that she’s gone. Maybe because I wasn’t there when Mom died, so it’s harder to get it fixed in my head.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Just over a year.” He turned and looked at me. “I think Dad’s very interested in your mother.”

“I noticed. Does that bug you, so soon after your mom died?”

“Not in the least. He deserves to be happy, and if he can be with your mother, I’m glad.”

It was my turn to stare up at the ceiling. “It’s debatable, Steve. I’ve told you before, Mom has a thing with men.”

“I’m thinking Dad can get around whatever thing she throws at him.”

“He can be pretty persuasive, can’t he?”

“Especially when it’s for something he wants. And I’ve been told I’m a chip off the old block.” He flipped to his stomach, which brought him closer. “I either have to leave, or kiss you. My mother managed to raise a gentleman, but hell if I can lie here another two seconds knowing you’re half naked under those covers.”

Maybe if he hadn’t been less than three inches from my face, and if I hadn’t had the scent of him and his subtle cologne wrapped around me, and maybe, if I’d given it ten seconds of thought, I’d have shoved him off, gotten out of bed and run like hell to get away from him. Did I mention that I’m insanely attracted to Steve? That it scares the crap out of me? And makes me wonder if I’m some kind of a ho, lusting after two different men?

Too bad for me, he was three inches from my face, and his cologne was seductive, and I didn’t give it more than a nanosecond of thought before I whispered, “Will you think I’m a tease if it’s just a kiss?”

“Yes.”

I stared up at his handsome, if slightly bruised face and tried to remember why it was a very bad idea to kiss him. Then he was kissing me and I remembered, but it was way too late by then. Kissing Steve Santorelli was a bad idea because it’s always next to impossible to stop. I have no idea why. He’s a great kisser, extremely passionate, and I’ve dated several good kissers over the years, but I never had a problem stopping with any of them. With Steve, it’s like breaking the laws of physics, floating in an antigravity field.