Velvet Ropes, Page 3

  “You’re on the force again?” Stella asked.

  “Monday morning.”

  “Good. What area?”

  “Four. Violent Crimes.”

  “Even better,” Stella said. “We may need your help there.”

  “Help where?” Cassandra asked as she breezed into the room on four-inch heels, which made her a formidable figure in her teal velvet dress and hair so red it appeared to be on fire. “Do we have a new case?”

  “Meet a friend of Stella’s,” Blade said, indicating Dermot.

  As Cass shook his hand her smile faded, and she grew immediately silent. Which put up Gideon’s antennae. But he turned to Stella and Dermot. “Why don’t you sit and tell me what you need from us,” he suggested.

  Cass backed up against the indigo wall and stared at Dermot O’Rourke, while the duo took the black leather chairs on the other side of his desk.

  Gideon watched him, too, as Stella told his story in shorthand. Dermot seemed a little uncomfortable as Stella went over the details that pointed to him as the only suspect.

  Psychotherapist volunteers time at halfway house…ex-con found dead…supposed secret between the two…cryptic message on laptop…not enough to make arrest…

  Not yet.

  If Dermot was guilty, he didn’t show it, Gideon thought. Blade appeared convinced of the man’s innocence, no doubt because he trusted Stella’s judgment. Logan and Gabe both seemed to be neutral as they listened. But Cass’s sharp gaze on the potential client didn’t let up.

  “If you help me with Dermot,” Stella said, “I will do what I can to help you with other clients in the future.”

  “I’m for it,” Blade said.

  No objections from Logan and Gabe. And while Cass didn’t voice any objections, neither did her normally bubbly nature surface.

  “I think we need to discuss the matter in private,” Gideon told Stella.

  “Of course.” Her expression worried, Stella rose immediately and tugged at her companion’s sleeve. “We’ll wait at the bar.”

  “Thanks for listening, anyway,” Dermot said. “Whatever you decide.”

  Dermot followed Stella out of the room.

  The door had barely closed behind them before Blade asked, “What’s the problem, Gideon?”

  “Ask Cass.”

  Her eyes went wide. “I don’t have a problem.”

  “That’s why you’re so chatty.”

  “I don’t have to talk all the time,” she protested, at which Logan barked a laugh. Reddening, she glared at the soon-to-be-ex-security chief. “I don’t!”

  “What is it that has you spooked about Dermot O’Rourke?” Gideon pressed.

  She shrugged and brushed it off with a breezy, “Nothing.”

  So Cass wasn’t going to spill whatever was bothering her, which deepened Gideon’s curiosity.

  Although she would never readily talk about it, Cassandra Freed was psychic and they all knew it. Now Blade and Logan and Gabe were staring at her with questioning expressions. She flicked at a red curl with a long teal fingernail and tried to appear unfazed.

  But Gideon knew when she was picking up signals. Though he didn’t like the fact that Cass wouldn’t talk, he was certain it wasn’t that the man was guilty. So she must be picking up on something else.

  “So you think we should take the case?” Gideon asked her directly.

  Her gaze shifted away from him as she said, “Yes, of course. Stella has kept the details of what we do for people to herself, and if she thinks this guy is worth the trouble, then he must be.”

  “What about you two?” he asked Logan and Gabe.

  “Come Monday I’ll certainly be in a position to help,” Logan said. “I say go for it.”

  “I’m the newcomer to this group,” Gabe said. “I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”

  “And you know where I stand,” Blade said.

  Gideon nodded. “All right, then. We’ll do it. Blade, you ask around Pilsen, see what people remember about Father Dermot and what they think of him now that he’s volunteering with ex-cons. Gabe, you do a full computer search on the man’s history…and on the victim’s. Logan, when you get into the Area 4 office—”

  “Got it.”

  Even if he wasn’t assigned to it, Logan would familiarize himself with the case, Gideon knew. He would be their eyes and ears in the CPD as long as he stayed low profile. Once the detectives on the case knew where Stella Jacobek stood, they wouldn’t have any use for her.

  “What about me?” Cass asked.

  “I thought you might want to stay out of this one.”

  “No way! We’re a team, aren’t we?”

  Yeah, Team Undercover, a group of outcasts helping the desperate when they had nowhere else to turn.

  No cover charged…no ID required…secrecy guaranteed.

  “Start by acting as a support system,” he told her. “This case seems important to Stella. Personal. Maybe she needs a friend.”

  Though Cass gave him an I-know-what-you’re-doing look, she didn’t argue.

  Helping others had given him his life purpose.

  And he knew that Cass, having spent the better part of two years in jail for a crime she didn’t commit, wouldn’t want to see another innocent incarcerated.

  That was assuming Dermot O’Rourke was innocent, not only of murder but whatever was hidden in his past.

  “ARE YOU SURE you don’t have any idea who Tony Vargas was blackmailing?” Stella asked Dermot when he let her into his office the next morning.

  While the decorating budget obviously had been modest, and some of the furniture undoubtedly secondhand, the room would put a patient at ease. The pale-blue walls were calming—big windows lined the wall on the north, giving plenty of light; no therapist couch. Two fancy chairs seemed to be the only touch of luxury, and she suspected Dermot had paid for them out of his own pocket.

  “I don’t have a clue as to Tony’s target,” Dermot told her. “Sit.”

  Stella wasn’t ready to get cozy. While Dermot made himself comfortable, she paced, taking in the framed posters breaking up the long wall opposite the windows.

  “Dermot, I know denying knowledge of the blackmail target is your official story—”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Therapist-patient privilege is at the discretion of the patient, and considering Tony’s dead, he certainly can’t object.” Stella wanted to believe him, but she had to make sure they were clear. “Besides which, whatever he told you involves a past crime. Or a future one. It isn’t the same as the seal of the confessional.”

  At which Dermot bristled. “I’m aware of all that, and I still don’t know. Tony liked to talk, whether to get something off his conscience or to brag, but he was always careful how much he said.”

  “What did he say exactly?” she asked, taking the vacant chair, which immediately rocked backward.

  “We were discussing Tony’s plans for the future. I asked if he had anything in mind that would be productive, as in going to school to get some kind of training so he could find a decent job. He told me once he made his big score, he wouldn’t need to work for a while.”

  “And from that you got blackmail?”

  “From that I informed him it wouldn’t be in his best interest to tell me about any crimes he intended to commit, that if he told me about a crime, I was obligated to report it.”

  “No patient-therapist privilege there,” she agreed.

  “Tony said he wasn’t planning on committing any crime, just accepting a cut of the wealth. The definition of accessory escaped him, I suppose. Not that I had any details. But I did ask who was going to be generous enough to share the spoils, and all Tony said was, someone who wouldn’t want him to mess things up.”

  “So he was blackmailing another criminal.”

  “That’s my conclusion.”

  “And you told Norelli and Walker all this.”

  Dermot laughed. “Not that they believed me. Not witho
ut a name.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t have one.”

  “You don’t believe me, either?”

  Her chair was so comfortable she could see why clients relaxed. But being this close to Dermot, in such a vulnerable position, she couldn’t unwind.

  “Of course I believe you, Dermot. But in your sessions, Tony must have talked about associates.”

  “Yeah, like Mack the Knife, the leader of his cell block, and Bugger Bob.”

  “But he didn’t mention anyone from the old neighborhood?”

  “Other than Johnny Rincon…I’d have to look at my notes.”

  “Johnny Rincon.” Stella’s gut tightened. “The one offender from the old days who I targeted but was never able to put behind bars.”

  Johnny had been trouble from day one in high school. She and Blade had stuck together to keep out of his gang. Eventually Blade had fought Johnny, had left him with a scarred face, a permanent reminder that Blade was no one to mess with. Johnny was guilty of so many things, but she’d never been able to get the proof she needed to put him where he belonged. And her detective’s shield had taken her out of Pilsen, so she guessed she never would.

  Unless…

  “What about Johnny?” she asked.

  “Tony blamed Johnny for letting him take the rap on the theft that put him behind bars.”

  Stella’s instincts perked up. “Anything more on that?”

  “Nothing I remember specifically. Again I’ll have to check my notes. One or two sessions a week for more than three months is a lot of talking.”

  Stella nodded. “If I were you, I’d go over your records with a fine-tooth comb before Norelli subpoenas them.”

  “He doesn’t have to subpoena them. All he has to do is ask. I’ve already made a copy.”

  “Good. Then see if there’s anyone else Tony sounded obsessed over.”

  “If it’s there, I’ll be on it.”

  Dermot’s gaze was steady on her, making Stella self-conscious. He was counting on her. She couldn’t fail him, not with what she owed him.

  “Now, what about you?” she asked, her voice tight. She wanted to know everything about him, wanted to savor every personal detail. But she kept it professional. “Did you get yourself a lawyer?”

  “I don’t trust lawyers.”

  “But you need one. You’ve gotta protect yourself. Maybe you’ve never had a good one. I’ll ask Lynn Cross who she recommends.”

  “The lawyer Blade brought to Undercover?”

  Stella nodded. “Blade’s fiancée now. Lynn’s spe cialty is divorce, but I’m sure she could recommend a good criminal lawyer.”

  “Criminal,” he echoed, then smiled at her. “Great. But then, I always knew that about you.”

  Warmth flushed through Stella at the compliment, and she squirmed at the reminder of their former relationship, of the fact that he knew what had happened to her.

  So he thought she was great? Why? Because she’d put the attack behind her and made a life? Better than being pitied, she supposed.

  Stella told herself to calm down and not try to dissect the compliment. Dermot wasn’t like the guys who would feed a girl a load of bull to get what they wanted. He was up-front…unless it involved privileged information.

  “One more thing,” she said. “Two velvet ropes disappeared from St. Peter’s. Only one turned up around Tony’s neck.”

  “If you’re suggesting I might have the other one, I can assure you I don’t.”

  “Good.” Rocking the chair forward, she got to her feet. “I should scram, give you some room. You probably have a client scheduled in soon, anyway.”

  “I’ve put all my appointments on hold. I have some paperwork to take care of and then I’m done here until things are resolved.”

  “But won’t that hurt your program?”

  “I have someone covering for me. My name in the papers would hurt the center more. We’re waiting to hear on a big grant for the drug rehab program. I’m afraid any notoriety will blow it for the center, and we really need that money.”

  “Then we’ll have to make sure your name doesn’t get in the papers other than in a positive way.”

  His voice lowered when he said, “From your lips…”

  The way he was staring at her lips made Stella think he had something else in mind. Flushing, she told herself not to be foolish. The attraction had always been one way. And if there was something going on here, she couldn’t act on it. The important thing was clearing Dermot’s name. She had to stay focused.

  She said, “If we all work together, we’ll make sure you don’t get convicted of a crime you didn’t commit. I’m, uh, gonna take some comp time myself.”

  She knew Dermot wouldn’t be content to sit around and twiddle his thumbs, and she couldn’t let him run his own investigation.

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Star.”

  “You didn’t. I’d be too distracted thinking of you. Of the trouble you’re in,” she amended. “You check over those records, and I’ll see if I can get anything through the grapevine. Unfortunately, Logan won’t be back at Area 4 until Monday.” A lot could happen in two days, bad or good. “I can meet you back here and we can compare notes before going over to Club Undercover.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up instead?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Stella took out her pad and scribbled her address and phone number on a blank page. When she handed it to Dermot, his fingers brushed hers, and it was all she could do to act unaffected. Beneath her casual stance, her chest squeezed tight and her knees sud denly felt like rubber, and the idea of being alone with Dermot at her place was a little too cozy for her comfort.

  Suddenly Stella suspected that clearing Dermot’s name was going to be easier than working with him to get it done.

  WORD HAD ALREADY SPREAD from the cop shop through the neighborhood: Stella was once again sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

  Messing up carefully laid plans seemed to be her life’s work.

  Tony Vargas’s murder had turned into a twofold master stroke. What a piece of cake that had been. Tony’d gotten onto the rickety chair as instructed. He’d even put the velvet rope around his own neck, attached it to the hook in the chandelier base himself. He’d pleaded through the whole thing, of course, weeping for mercy like a girl. But always weak, Tony had done what he was told, no doubt trusting he would get some last-minute reprieve.

  When the chair had been kicked out from under him, the little weasel’s expression of disbelief had been priceless.

  Getting rid of a blackmailer had been the prime objective. But if Tony dead was the cake, then Dermot O’Rourke behind bars would be the icing.

  And now it might never happen.

  Despite all the careful planning to make it look like O’Rourke could be involved, he had an ally in the CPD determined to get him off. Detective Stella Jacobek.

  Time to teach her another lesson.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey, Jacobek, what the hell is this I hear about you going against your own for a murderer?”

  Sergeant Mack Johnson loomed over Stella’s desk as she hung up the phone after talking to Lynn Cross, who’d readily agreed to put Dermot in touch with a top trial lawyer. Johnson was intimidating by his very size, yet normally good-natured. So, one look at the glowering expression on her superior’s dark face ruined Stella’s good mood.

  “You know better than that, Mack. He’s an alleged murderer,” Stella countered, her throat tight. “But I swear to you Dermot didn’t murder anyone—I’d bet my badge he’s innocent.”

  “It just might be your badge, Jacobek.”

  She said, “Dermot is a personal friend,” as if that would make him back off.

  “Norelli and Walker are already making a stink. The lieutenant’s breathing down my neck on this one.” The man wiped a little sweat from where it trickled down his bald head. “Friend or not, stay out of the Vargas case.”

  “I can
’t do that, Mack.” She winced when his face grew even darker in response. He really wasn’t going to like what she had to tell him next…unless she could finesse him into thinking it might get him off the hook. “But what I can do is remove myself from the lieutenant’s eye for a few days. That way, I’m not officially working against anyone.”

  “You’re going to make this into a public relations nightmare for the department!”

  “I’ll do my best not to,” Stella promised. “I’ll be discreet. But I can’t sit back while a friend’s life is being ruined—when he could spend time in prison for something he didn’t do. I know you’re a man of integrity, Sergeant, and you wouldn’t let that happen to someone you cared about, either.” Though he was still steaming, he didn’t contradict her, so she casually added, “You know I have plenty of time due.”

  Detectives worked a ton of overtime. They didn’t just start investigating a murder case and then take off when their shift was done. There were times when she’d worked three or four days straight without ever going home. And it was her option to take overtime pay or comp time.

  Still, her chest tightened as she waited for a decision—it was Johnson’s option to deny her time due if he so chose, and he might for her own good.

  She figured Johnson was grappling with the separation of official sanction and her own personal need. He was angry with her, and part of her didn’t blame him. She was going against her own.

  “Mack, you know what kind of detective I am. I don’t rest at night if I don’t find the right answers. If I did, I might not have broken the Moore case.”

  She brought it up because he’d been particularly eager to get that murder solved. One of the suspects had been an acquaintance of his, and her tireless work had cleared the guy. When his expression shifted, Stella knew she’d hit the right nerve.

  “All right. Take a few days, then. Do what you have to do but keep a low profile.”

  “That’s the idea,” she agreed, relief allowing her to breathe normally again. “Thank you.”

  “And make sure you get your old cases out of the way first.” With a curt nod, he strode away.

  Stella felt curious eyes. Another detective and a couple of uniforms around the room were focused on her. No doubt having heard at least part of the exchange, they were waiting for her to say something.