Sleight of Hand

Part II

The Key





CHAPTER Sixteen

Dana got a seat on a red-eye out of Seattle. She tried to sleep on the cross-country flight but she couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d been played. Why hadn’t she seen that Laurent’s story was ridiculous? The obvious answer was the twenty-five grand. It wasn’t logical to think that someone would pay that much money to play a joke on her. But someone had paid her twenty-five thousand dollars, and the Seattle actors another twenty thousand, to make sure that she would run around in circles for a week. A person would only pay that much to send her on a wild-goose chase if they were going to make a hell of a lot more money if the prank was successful.

A cab let Dana off at her house an hour before the sun rose on Thursday morning. She dropped her duffel bag in the entryway and was about to turn on the lights when her instincts told her that something was wrong. She looked around. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Then it dawned on her that there should have been mail lying on the mat under the mail slot.

Dana closed the door quietly, took out her gun, and looked around the living room. Nothing. She slid around the wall into the kitchen and again sensed that something was wrong. It took a moment before she figured out what was bothering her. When she’d left for Seattle, all four chairs had been pushed in at the kitchen table, but one of the chairs was a few inches away from the table now. She surveyed the kitchen slowly. Nothing else was out of place.

Dana took a deep breath and edged down the hall, hugging the wall on the same side as the bedroom door. When she reached her destination, Dana crouched low to make a smaller target and spun into the room. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could make out a shape on the far side of the bed. In one smooth motion, Dana flipped the light switch and aimed her gun.

Jake Teeny rolled on his side and squinted at her for a moment. Then he flashed a sleepy grin.

“I didn’t know you were into role-playing. What are we doing, the lady cop and the handcuffed prisoner? Personally, I prefer woman in chains and the sex-crazed warden.”

Dana expelled a breath and the hand holding the gun dropped to her side.

“Why are you home?” she asked, angry at Jake for scaring her, and angrier at herself for almost shooting her lover.

“It’s great seeing you, too.”

It occurred to Dana that she should be happy that Jake was home and safe.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you for two more weeks and I thought someone had broken in.”

“I left a message on the machine. Didn’t you get it?”

“No. I’ve been out of town on a really weird assignment.”

“Oh?”

“I’m too beat to talk about it now, and I’m really glad you’re home, but why aren’t you freezing your ass off in the Arctic?”

“The whole expedition was a disaster,” Jake said as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. “There was bad weather, then one of the scientists broke his leg.”

“Did you get some good pictures?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’ll publish an article, so the magazine probably won’t use them.”

“Maybe you can put them together for a show.”

“Maybe.”

Dana put her gun on the end table, dragged herself across the bed, and kissed Jake.

“I missed you,” Dana said.

“I’m glad,” Jake said as he nuzzled her neck.

Dana laughed. “Down, boy. I was on a red-eye—I smell, and I haven’t slept a wink in twenty-four hours—so I’ll take a rain check on the sex until the morning.”

“Nuts.”

“I plan to make it up to you, so you’d better get plenty of rest, because you’re going to need it when I wake up.”



Dana and Jake slept until a little before noon and were still in bed at twelve forty-five. They made love again in the shower. Then Jake headed for the kitchen so he could start breakfast, although, as Dana noted, it was technically the afternoon.

Dana had a big smile on her face when she followed the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee into the dining room, where a full mug and the morning paper were waiting for her. She was so glad to have Jake home. She really loved him, and it didn’t hurt that he was one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen. Jake, who was in his mid-thirties, was an inch shorter than Dana at five nine, and had wavy brown hair and liquid brown eyes. His skin was always tanned because he was outdoors so much of the time. Jake’s job could be physically demanding, so he stayed in shape. Dana grinned as she remembered the feel of his rock-hard body.

Jake saw how happy Dana looked, and he couldn’t help smiling, too. Not so long ago he had wondered if he would ever see her smile again.

“So, what’s this weird case you were working on?” Jake asked as he set down plates loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast at their places.

Between bites, Dana told Jake about her meeting with Margo Laurent, her trip to the West Coast, and her discovery that the search for the Ottoman Scepter was a prank.

“I think calling what happened to you ‘weird’ is an understatement. The whole thing is downright bizarre.”

“I agree.”

“Are you going to try to figure out what happened and who was behind it?”

“When I can. I had to put several cases on the back burner, and I’ve got to dig myself out.”

Jake grabbed the sports section so he could catch up on what happened to his favorite teams while he was away. Dana took the first section and read the depressing news about the Middle East, the failing economy, and congressional gridlock. When she got to the part of the paper that reported on local news, she found herself looking at a picture over a headline that read: COMMONWEALTH ATTORNEY STILL MISSING. Dana was struck by the resemblance the prosecutor in question bore to Margo Laurent. Then she froze when she learned that the missing woman was Carrie Blair, wife of industrialist Horace Blair.

There was that name again.

The article told how Carrie Blair became the “Society Prosecutor” and concluded by stating that the last time anyone had seen the missing woman was Monday afternoon. Dana felt very uneasy. The last time she’d talked to Margo Laurent was Friday. After that, all of Dana’s calls had gone to voice mail.

“What’s up?” Jake asked when he noticed the intensity with which Dana was reading the story about the missing prosecutor.

“My weird case just got a whole lot weirder.”

Dana walked down to her basement office and booted up her computer. She found a good photograph of Carrie Blair on the Internet and used Photoshop to change Carrie’s blond hair to black and add dark glasses. When she was through, Dana maneuvered the before and after photos so they were side by side.

Jake walked in carrying two coffee mugs. He set one down next to Dana and pulled up a chair.

“I think I’ve found my mystery woman,” Dana said. Then she told Jake about the missing prosecutor.

“Horace Blair owns the house on Isla de Muerta and the condo in Victoria. It’s too big a coincidence. I think Margo Laurent is really Carrie Blair.”

“Do you know the Blairs?” Jake asked.

“Not that I remember.”

“So what’s going on?”

“I have no idea. This whole business is giving me a headache.”