Chapter Two
"I don't buy it." Alphonse sat back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest, a look of mulish inflexibility on his face.
"Don't buy what?" Charlie added his ten cents worth. "What's to buy? Person or persons unknown knock on a door, a girl answers, she's so high," he gestured with his hand "brown hair, the hallway's dark, they blow away the wrong girl, end of story."
"Charlie, that's what I don't buy." Alphonse leaned forwards emphasising his words, palms down on the desk. "I don't buy that she lends her apartment to a girl who could be her double and the girl gets blown away instead of her. It's too convenient." He glanced across the room to where Ice and Laura were standing. "Then there's that."
Charlie followed his gaze. Ice seemed very taken with Laura, and from where he was sitting, the feeling was mutual. She's a good looking girl, and Ice deserves a break. He turned back to Alphonse. "So? Ice is a free agent, she's a free agent."
"She's a suspect in a murder investigation."
"'Phonse, you sound like O'Connor." Charlie suddenly grinned, "Or you're jealous? A good looking girl shows up and she's only got eyes for Ice." He leant forward, "what is it with you, professional pride?"
Alphonse scowled, jealous, no way. There's something about her that gives me the creeps. He shivered. And it hurt that Charlie thought he was that shallow. With a huge wave of misery, Alphonse acknowledged that he really missed Lucy, and Dylan, his fourteen year old daughter. Parenting for him was largely guesswork, and there had been times when he'd wished he could weasel out of the responsibility. But whenever he was separated from her, he was desperate to get back to her.
O'Connor listened impassively to Laura's story. She had gone away for the evening, just to be out of the apartment if Carlton Jennings had called. Jennings had asked her to marry him, and although initially she had said yes, she had been having second thoughts and wanted space to think things through.
Diane had asked if she could possibly use Laura's apartment as she wanted some time alone with her boyfriend and she shared her apartment with three other girls. So Laura had said yes and given her the key.
Wasn't that a bit unusual.
Not at all, Diane had borrowed the apartment on several previous occasions, and Laura was happy to let her do it. They had an extremely good working relationship.
Ice sat back and let Laura's words flow over him. It wasn't what she was saying, she could have been reciting from the telephone directory for all he cared, it was the tone and colour of her voice, the cut and thrust of the argument. O'Connor questioned, she answered. Ice just sat and appreciated her quick wit.
Ice didn't even look up when Charlie and Alphonse joined them. Alphonse noted the rapt expression on his partner's face and shuddered, once again his right thumb and forefinger sought out the little gold cross hanging from the chain round his neck.
Charlie noted the move. Jeez, something's really eating at 'Phonse. Then his attention was drawn back to what Laura and O'Connor were saying.
"I made a deal about three months ago, for a collection of artefacts from Peru. Amongst them was the cross of Titicaca, the personal religious icon of the Cortes Family. Another dealer, Max Briter also bid for the exclusive handling. He wasn't pleased to be beaten to it, in fact, I'm sure he had a buyer lined up for the cross."
O'Connor looked sceptical, "And this makes you sure that he tried to kill you?" Alphonse silently applauded, her story didn't hold up.
Laura sighed, dropped her eyes to her hands twisting together in her lap. "He came and offered me nearly twice the amount for the cross three days ago. And for the painting of Hernan Cortes which is part of the lot. He offered around four times more than the painting is worth."
O'Connor leant forward, "Four times more than it's worth?……………Interesting. I think we will pay a little visit to Mr Briter."
Alphonse couldn't take any more. "You're not gonna believe her, are you?" he couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "That story's crap."
Laura turned to him, hurt and fear trembled in her voice. "It's true. It's all true." Tears welled in her eyes and she turned her face away, trying to regain her composure. Ice's hand settled over hers, and the older man leaned forward, a steely gaze in his eyes.
"It's good enough for me. So unless someone died and made you the Director of the FBI, we're going with the Briter theory."
Alphonse glared at him. "She shows up out of nowhere, most convenient, finds you in her apartment, a total stranger yet she doesn't run screaming from the room or ring the cops; then you have one conversation and on the basis of that she's innocent of everything and I'm the bad guy here?"
O'Connor stepped in before it could come to blows. "We have an objective. Royo, if you can deal with that?"
Alphonse subsided, hurt. "Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand dismissing them.
"You up for this?" Charlie looked at his partner. This felt very like almost a year before when Alphonse had been distracted by a letter from his mother. Things went to hell in a barrel then.
Alphonse snapped at him. "Yes. I'm doing it. When it all proves to be a load of bullshit, I am going to have great pleasure in saying I told you so.." His expression indicated something very far removed from pleasure. The Latin looked stressed and tense.
By contrast Charlie had never felt more relaxed or confident. Like taking candy from a baby. Somewhere along the way they seemed to have switched sides, Alphonse was wound up and neurotic; Charlie, taking things in his stride.
Before Charlie could unburden himself of any more platitudes, Alphonse got up and left the trailer. His job was to be gallery slave to Max Briter, who was advertising for an assistant, and whilst there search for clues. Alphonse saw it slightly differently. Sure he was going to investigate Briter, but that didn't mean he couldn't check out the lovely Laura too. It really burned him that Ice was taking this babe's word over his friend's, particularly after the run in they'd had over another Laura. A humourless smile crossed the Latin's lips, Ice seemed fated to be taken in by women called Laura. Always at the back of his mind lurked this nameless fear, his fingers clasped the little cross again, rubbing it.
Alphonse shook himself, get on with it Royo. He straightened his back, stared straight ahead and crossed the street, the picture of confidence that he didn't really feel.
Charlie settled down to listen in on Alphonse's wire.
Max Briter was a rubicund, effusive man in his late forties, with a charmingly "Gay" manner which he seemed to have culled from watching Noel Coward movies. Anyone less like a murderer Alphonse couldn't have envisaged, and if he were a murderer, shotgun, too messy, wouldn't appeal to his sense of beauty. Briter seemed to have a real dislike of ugly things, his comments on Alphonse's appearance made that obvious. The big Latin was torn between irritation and embarrassment, with a niggling desire to keep his back to the wall.
Briter hired Alphonse on the spot, references were waved away as being "too mundane, dear boy! I never ask for references."
Four hours later, and Alphonse had drawn his own conclusions. Briter wasn't the man they were looking for. The effusiveness hid a shrewd brain, and the man was far too self absorbed to consider killing anyone. A swift search revealed an interest in Jacoby paintings, and plenty of buyers for those, there was a little click in Alphonse's brain. Jacoby………Jacoby, why do I know that name?
Playing the dumb innocent, Alphonse asked. Briter became more effusive than ever, "Jacoby, my dear boy, simply exquisite. Paintings sell like hot cakes. Become even more popular since the fire."
"Fire!!" If alarm bells really had been ringing, Alphonse would have been stone deaf by now. "What fire?"
"Too tragic, there was a fire at Jacoby's warehouse, where he stored some of his work. The building burnt to the ground before the fire department could get the blaze under control and they found Jacoby's body in the ruins." A sudden calculation came into Briter's eyes. "Some of his best work perished with him. They'd be worth a large fortune today."
Alphonse was almost tempted to ask why he'd offered so much for the Conquistador.
After offering up his version of his day to an almost indifferent Ice, Charlie, Chrissy and O'Connor, Alphonse slipped away. He had plans for the evening that didn't include his partners or his boss. If they had been following, they would have been startled to see his shopping trip included three bookstores and the New York City Library.
Ice checked his reflection in the mirror, looking good. He was taking Laura to a nice restaurant this evening, then a little firelight, a little romance and who knows. He smiled.
She was ready and waiting, answering the door at his light knock. He couldn't bring himself to ring the bell, nothing to remind her of how Diane died. She stepped eagerly over the threshold and into his arms, a chaste kiss on the cheek, with so much promise behind the gesture. He was flying.
Dinner was perfect. Back at the apartment, Ice settled back into the easy chair that he'd made his own over the last three days, a glass of VSOP five star at his elbow, a beautiful woman in the chair opposite. Ice savoured the moment.
Charlie tugged on Corky's hand, and she half fell into his arms in the elevator. They embraced passionately, ignoring the strange looks from the other occupants. By the time, they reached their floor they were completely oblivious to anyone but themselves. The attendant had to draw their attention to the fact they'd arrived at their floor.
All the way to Charlie's door they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Charlie fumbled one handed with the lock, he wasn't letting go. Once inside clothes melted away and they got down to the serious business of exploring each other.
Chrissy and O'Connor reviewed what they had.
"Royo may yet turn up some leads." O'Connor looked at his field agent. As handler, she couldn't be faulted, the boys usually obeyed her and she did manage to curb their excesses, but just lately she didn't seem to be on top of the job.
"Huh!" Chrissy became aware of his scrutiny.
"Christine, if you are not up to this, go back to LA and Cornfield can take over."
She looked away, embarrassed. "No……no, I'm fine." Shuffling papers in an attempt to distract his gaze. "Was that all, sir."
O'Connor sighed, the whole team seemed to have changed, and not for the better.
"Yes, yes. Go on." Dismissing her.
Chrissy gathered her things up and left the office. Walking back slowly to the hotel.
Alphonse went through all the information he'd managed to gather on Stuart Jacoby. A gifted portrait painter, the man also painted several series of more abstract works; it was mostly those that sold well and were destroyed in the fire which killed Jacoby. The more Alphonse thought about it, the more it seemed that Jacoby was the key.
He came across a name, Jacoby's main backer, a Christian Bader. Gotta pay a visit to Mr Bader in the morning. And Miss Laura Neill's gallery handled a lot of Jacoby's work. Now there's a surprise.
He rolled over and reached for the telephone, he badly needed to talk to Lucy and Dylan.