The Dangerous Edge of Things

CHAPTER 5

I rummaged in the back of the freezer until I found Eric’s stash of Blue Mountain blend. Then I piled paper towels on the Ritz-Carlton coffee, which was now a fragrant puddle on the carpet. I didn’t even try to clean my shoes.

Landon settled himself at the kitchen table and pulled out a cell phone. His manner was open and casual, but despite the nonchalance, there was obviously an agenda somewhere. He reminded me of my high school guidance counselor, and I shuddered a bit. Same pink complexion, broad face, let’s-get-down-to-business air.

I dumped coffee into the filter basket. “Okay, let’s start with what you people are doing in my house.”

“This is your brother’s house.”

“Same difference.”

“Actually, no.” He kept his eyes on the keypad, his fingers moving efficiently. “It’s his house, so what we’re doing here is his business, not yours.”

“You got a piece of paper to prove you belong here?”

“Of course.” He paused. “You’re going to make me go get it, aren’t you?”

I waved the pot at him. “Damn straight.”

“I figured as much.” He put the cell phone in his pocket. “Look, can’t this wait until morning, after everybody’s calmed down a bit?”

“Right. And the minute I leave the house, you people are all over it again.”

“Well, that is our job.”

I turned on the coffee maker and leaned against the counter. “All the same, I think I’ll wait for Detective Garrity.”

As if on cue, the doorbell ding-donged, followed a split-second later by a half-dozen assertive poundings.

Landon chuckled. He had a nice laugh, rich and deep. It caught me off guard. “Better let him in before he starts threatening to kick things down. In the meantime, I’ll call my partner, see if there’s anything we can do to salvage this situation.”

“What about Trey?”

The banging at the door grew louder, more insistent. Landon gestured toward the porch with his chin.

“Why don’t you let the nice policeman in first? Then we’ll all have a long talk.”

I did as he suggested. The guy on the front stoop was all cop, right down to the sturdy khakis and navy jacket, rumpled from a day’s wear. He looked about five-ten, slim and wiry, with thick auburn hair cut short and a face like a fox—deep-set brown eyes, a neat sharp nose, and a mouth with crinkles at the corners, a mouth made for smiling.

It wasn’t.

“A sword?” he said.

“Hey, there, Detective.” I held up my hands. “No more armed and dangerous, see?”

“Garrity, please.” He took the steps, pausing warily at the entrance, a cop stance.

“I’m Tai, Eric’s sister. Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. And it’s nice to finally meet you, Tai, but good Lord.” He shook his head, raked his hand through his hair. “This is a mess, you know that?”

“Sorry. It’s not like I planned it, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Then he smiled, just a little. “So how are things?”

“Fine. Well, they were until I found a corpse at the end of the driveway, but I suppose you heard about that.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t know Eric was involved. Or you. Or Phoenix.”

I stepped back. “You wanna come in? Apparently I’m making coffee for everyone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Coffee? Oh sure, I got nothing better to do at three in the morning.”

***

The three of us sat in the ladder-back chairs circling Eric’s kitchen table, artisan-crafted mugs in hand. Garrity didn’t bother hiding his annoyance at Landon. “Look, this is Eric’s sister. Can’t you just tell her what’s going on?”

“C’mon, Garrity, you’re a cop. You have rules just like we do, so you know the minute you start breaking them, it’s—wait a sec, that’s me.” Landon checked his phone and stood up abruptly, scraping the chair back. “I’ve got to take this.”

He took his coffee with him. Garrity waited until he was gone, then cut me a look. “Where’s the sword?”

“It’s not like it was real or anything.”

“Where is it?”

“In the umbrella stand.”

“And where’s Trey?”

“Hightailing it back to the van, last I heard.” I took a slug of coffee and burned my mouth. “He’s lucky I didn’t stick that thing right through his—”

“Drop that thought, my friend.” Garrity put his mug down hard. “Trey used to be my partner, and I’m telling you, he’s not somebody you mess with.”

“Trey was on the force?”

“Yeah, a long time ago, back in my patrol days. We did Red Dog together.”

The phrase was familiar. “Red Dog? The gangs and drugs unit thing?”

“Yeah, that thing. I moved on to Criminal Investigations—Major Crimes, the fraud division—but Trey started working in Special Ops.”

“Ops? Like in SWAT?”

“Exactly like in SWAT.”

I suddenly remembered Trey’s unnatural composure, his placid blandness. So cool under pressure, even in the face of a crazy woman with a sword at his throat.

“That explains some things,” I said.

“Some things, maybe. But that’s too much to get into right now.”

I started to ask him what he meant, but Landon returned to the table, rubbing his hands together. The expression on his face was that of a smart man told to execute a real stupid order.

“That was Marisa,” he explained. “She said that since we have everything we need here, we can close up and go home. And you. Ms. Randolph, you can get your things and go straight back to the Ritz. If you’ll do that—no fuss, no 911—then we bring you in for a full briefing in the morning.”

Marisa. The name on the business card in my back pocket. Phoenix’s Executive Partner.

I looked at Landon. “We leave together, all of us?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t come back?”

“No. And neither do you.”

I considered his words. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have a choice. This isn’t your house, you don’t get to call the shots. But frankly, the situation being what it is, we don’t have much choice either.”

“So it’s mutual distrust? That’s what you’re offering?”

“Looking like.”

I thought about it. As trade-offs went, it wasn’t so bad. I lowered my mug. “Okay, Mr. Landon. You’ve got yourself a deal.”