Chapter 9
The next morning, around eight-thirty, Claire and Black sat across from each other in the breakfast nook. As usual, Black was dressed immaculately, in a navy suit and red tie and the usual crisp white shirt with his triple monogram on the cuff. He looked good, too, in a sexy, rich, corporate sort of way. Claire still liked him better in his T-shirts and jeans. She, on the other hand, still had on her flannel pajamas and matching robe, and hadn’t bothered to comb her bed hair. She wasn’t a morning person like he was: never had been, never would be. Yes, that was one more glaring difference between their personalities that didn’t matter in the least. She was only up with him because she woke at the crack of dawn worrying about the Heather Cantrell case and the total lack of concrete evidence to point Claire in any pertinent direction. That is, if the unsavory Fed from the night before had even given her the girl’s real name.
Black had ordered up bacon and eggs and biscuits from the restaurant, along with a selection of flaky pastries, and Claire poured two glasses of orange juice and made them both a cup of coffee. Black always chose the kind of brew that resembled black and completely undrinkable mud, no doubt because he grew to manhood in New Orleans, where chicory was the name of the game, as unpalatable as it was. Claire had a tendency to go for normal stuff, certainly no lattes, cappuccinos, or diet this-or-that, and definitely no non-fat anything. She drank coffee for the caffeine, for the pep to get going in the morning. Hell, if she wanted to lose weight, she’d add another couple of miles to her daily run. But she never cared about that. Black liked her the way she was, and ditto for her opinion of him.
Glancing at Black, she unfolded her napkin and grabbed the biggest jelly donut from under the silver dome. “I’m still trying to figure out what that guy was trying to prove last night,” she told him, taking a sip of the fresh-squeezed orange juice. It tasted good, icy cold and sweet.
“Got me,” Black answered. “What we probably should do is check out his credentials, because I don’t think he’s FBI or anything close to it. I think he’s probably some crackpot reporter who wanted to get close to you for a story.”
Claire contemplated him. “Or to you. I think he was after you the whole time. He was definitely baiting you, trying to make you angry. If he could get you to take a swing at him, they could sell one bombshell photo to the tabloids.”
“He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time. And I had to sit there and watch it. It was not something I enjoyed.”
“Well, after you didn’t bite on his jabs, I think he tried to intimidate me. Nothing he said made much sense. It was like he was just playing around with me. Saying whatever came into his head. It was strange, and I was glad when he took off, believe me. I texted Laurie Dale last night and asked her to run a check through the Bureau databases and see if he’s a real agent. She’s calling me back today.”
“Are she and Scott up at the farm?”
“No, they’re still down in Springfield. She’s working some important case down there.”
“Maybe it’s related to yours.”
“Maybe. I didn’t ask her. I’m anxious for her to call me back. That guy was downright irritating.”
“So, tell me about your case. See if we can find any connection to the guy last night. We didn’t get to talk much after we went to bed.”
“Yeah, no joke. Your mouth was way too busy to say much.”
“Talking in bed is highly overrated. I can think of better things to do with you than have a damn chat.” His dimples showed up and wowed her, as usual. “And I wasn’t in that big of a hurry, if you’ll recall.”
Claire remembered, all right. She smiled her gratitude for all those lovely pleasures. He smiled back, promising more. Okay by her. “Trust me, I’m not complaining. But to answer your question, that jerk—and for the record, I don’t think there’s a chance in hell that he’s legit, either—told me our victim was in the Bureau’s witness protection program. He said she disappeared, and that she ended up at the lake, dead at the top of that Christmas tree.”
Black placed his cup down on the saucer and gave her his full concentration. “That changes things. What else did Wood say last night? When he wasn’t undressing you with his eyes.”
“I thought once we got hitched you’d stop with that jealousy thing.”
“That’s true, but that guy was about as blatant as he could get, and I just had to just sit there and watch it go down.”
“You didn’t have to watch.”
“I’m pretty sure I did.”
Claire laughed at his expression. “Well, after he was done provoking me, he informed me that he wanted to go over my case file and take a look at the body. Just like that. Pretty much a ‘hand it over, lady, and don’t ask too many questions.’ As if that’s ever gonna happen.”
“No FBI agent would want to step on your toes like that, not blatantly, in any case. They try to be diplomatic when they take over for the locals.”
“Au contraire. They do step on local toes. Lots of them have, in fact. My toes have been black and blue from said encroachment. My question is this: if he’s not FBI, what’s he trying to do, and, more importantly, why the hell does he want to see that girl’s dead body?”
“You asked him that, I presume.”
“He wouldn’t say. Or couldn’t. Probably didn’t have a good reason. Or, no, make that he didn’t have a legal reason. I have a feeling he thinks I’m a small-town pushover that he could dictate to. You know, wave his hand and it shall be done.”
“Then he doesn’t know you very well.”
“Thank God. He knew about those pictures in the National Enquirer and enjoyed rubbing my nose in them.”
Black put down his coffee cup. “What did I tell you? Every man in the country is going to buy that damn tabloid.”
“Give it a break, Black. Forget those stupid pictures. Wood got a mysterious phone call, after which he looked worried, and hightailed it out of there like nobody’s business. Or, he might’ve seen somebody that he didn’t want to run into. I watched him get all antsy when a couple of guys showed up down in the lobby. I don’t think they were together, maybe just walked through the door at the same time. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them while he was on the phone. And then he took off in a hurry and made a point to avoid them on his way out.”
“Who were they? Did you know them?”
“Never seen either of them before, but I need to get their pictures off your security cameras ASAP. If they’re staying here at the hotel, I want to have a word with them. Today. And text me that photo you took of Oliver Wood. I intend to ask around about him, too.”
“I already called the security office. They’re going through last night’s lobby tapes, and they’ll call if they find out anything. Shouldn’t take them long to find what we’re looking for. I told them it was urgent and to get right on it.” Black eyed her for a moment. “I’m surprised he could tear himself away from you long enough to notice anybody else.”
Claire shook her head. “I cannot believe you’re actually jealous of that creep. Give me some credit, why don’t you?”
“I’m not jealous. But I don’t like him coming on to you the way he did. Especially since he did it on purpose. Why he did it is a much more interesting question.”
“Know what I think, Black? I think that guy wasn’t flirting with me as much as he was pulling your chain. Looked to me like he was trying to get you all hot under the collar so you’d get angry. Like I said, he was goading you to knock his block off and cause a scene. They’d pay big bucks for a picture of Nicholas Black losing his temper, since you never do. I hate paparazzi.” She frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Do you know him from somewhere? Did he look familiar to you at all?”
“I’ve never seen the guy before. But don’t kid yourself. He might’ve been trying to make me angry, but he was definitely interested in you. You were the target, not me. That was easy to see. I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now. I don’t care what his motives were.”
“Well, me either.”
“Tell me again everything he said to you.”
Claire repeated their conversation in as much detail as she could recall.
“That’s not much, all right. I can see reading the file, but why would he want to see the body, except to get an official ID?”
“He’s so weird, it could be anything.” Claire sighed heavily and took another bite of her donut. Did she ever love jelly donuts. She finished it off in a hurry. “I need to call Bud and find out if Wood’s partner visited him last night like he said. Or maybe I’ll just wait until Bud shows up. Should be here soon.” She pushed her plate away, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. A vision of half of that teenage girl’s head lying on the floor made it worse. She swallowed hard and took a drink of juice. “Oh, yeah, and the worst part of the whole thing, Black? Guess who owns the house where we found the victim?”
“Who?”
“Well, let me give you a little hint. This idiot’s the biggest loser in the universe. Ready to be sick? It’s no other than Mr. Jonesy Jax. You’ve heard of him, right? He’s the heavy metal rocker with all that long, bleached-out white hair that he wears in braids. He only wears black clothes on stage.” A mental image of the white-robed angel splattered with blood made Claire’s stomach pitch some more. “And he’s a real-life moron, if you don’t know him. Unfortunately, nobody seems to have a clue where he is or how we can get in touch with him. So, as of now, we have a deceased young girl with a name we don’t know is legit, found dead and posed atop a freakin’ Christmas tree. Happy Holidays, everybody.”
Black had forked up a bite of scrambled eggs but stopped his hand before it reached his mouth. He stared across the table at her. “Jonesy Jax owns the house where the body was found? Well, this is your lucky day, sweetheart. I know exactly where Jonesy is.”
That pronouncement shocked Claire into momentary silence. “Really? Where is he?”
“Directly underneath us, in the honeymoon suite. Got here under strict confidentiality and checked in under an assumed name.”
“What? Why didn’t I know about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Black lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “I didn’t see any reason why you’d be interested. You’re pretty upfront with your disdain for rock stars and their music.”
“When did he get here?”
“Almost a week ago. He told me he bought a house overlooking the lake out on some cliff, but I didn’t put it together with your case until now. He said the house wasn’t ready for him to move in, so he was checking in here. He wanted to avoid the paparazzi as much as he could, so I flew him and his friend in on my Gulfstream around midnight a week ago Sunday.”
Claire scoffed. “And how’d that work out for him? The media’s already here, down in the lobby every single day. Guess he’s ringing up a lot of room service.”
“I suspect he is. But those jackals down there are here for us, not him. They have no idea he’s here, or those vultures would double in number overnight. I hope they don’t find out. Nobody knows except for me and a few of the maids. I told them not to breathe a word to anybody about his presence and gave them a big Christmas bonus to keep it to themselves. I figured they deserved it. He’s a slob, but he wants privacy. As you know, that’s the main reason my celebrity patients come out here instead of my clinics in L.A. and New York. Anonymity. That’s what they all want. That, and the top-notch security that I can provide. He preferred to stay in the hotel this time, but last time he was here, he holed up down in the bungalows with the other celebs.”
“Why was he here the other time?”
“You know I can’t divulge that. Not even to you. And I love you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can guess. Alcohol, drugs, sex, probably sex addiction is the big one. Throw in depravity and misogyny, for good measure.”
“I seem to be getting the impression that you don’t care for the guy.”
“You’re just brilliant. I always have said so.”
“You’re being a tad hard on Jonesy, don’t you think? I’ve spent time with him, and he’s not the man he portrays himself to be up on stage in front of thousands of maniacal fans.” Black drank more coffee and made no further comment.
“I cannot believe that you’re taking up for that sleazebag, or that you ever hung around with him for even one minute. Oh, and by the way, I’ve spent time with him, too. I had to get up close and personal at a traffic stop, and he was about as despicable as any man could be. I tagged him as a sicko pervert from minute one. Please tell me that you don’t socialize with him.”
“Then you met him a long time ago. Actually, I’ve been helping him get his act together. After about a year of treatment, he got his life back under control. And, yes, I have seen him socially, on occasion. Before I met you. Mainly when I was working in Los Angeles. I’ve gone to his concerts when he sent me tickets; he asked me to come watch his show as a favor to him. He felt more secure getting through it when he was sober if he knew I was in the audience for moral support.”
Claire shook her head. “So tell me, Black: you catch any of those pills that he threw out to the underage kids in the crowd?”
“Those pills were just candy. That incident happened before I treated him.”
Claire was absolutely incredulous that Black was fond of Jonesy Jax. The two of them were diametrically opposed in every single way that she could think of. “You hang out at any of those wild parties he gives? You know, the ones with naked women jumping out of cakes and strippers on his roof?”
“Of course not. He’s a patient. I don’t party with patients. Our friendship was business-related, and never about doing drugs or being with women, which you should already know. I’m more fastidious than that, even when I was single. Jonesy and I played tennis occasionally, when I happened to be out on the West Coast. I’ve treated him in my Beverly Hills clinic a time or two, when he fell off the wagon and binged on drugs or alcohol. But it’s not always about his problems. Sometimes he wants me to help the people he cares about. Some of his friends have addictions, too.”
“Wow, as if that’s a news flash.” Claire still couldn’t believe Black and Jonesy were friends. Black was painting her a picture of a real, live, functioning human being. No way was Jonesy anywhere close to that. “So you are telling me that Jonesy Jax plays tennis? Sorry, but I find that really hard to believe. You mean he can actually track the ball when he’s usually spiked up on coke?”
“He’s sober now. At least, he is until around noon. After that, all bets are off. Still, he’s no longer out of control. He can stop boozing when he wants, and he doesn’t do the drugs much anymore.”
Claire didn’t really give a rip about Jonesy Jax’s problems, but she did want to interview him and see what he could tell her about their victim. “So how about coming downstairs with me and paying him a little visit? Waking him up before noon appeals to me. He needs to be at least halfway sober when I talk to him.”
“Sure, right after I finish breakfast. You should eat more than that donut, you know. You haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Do you feel all right?”
“I feel fine. Not so fine about this case, though. First off, some creepy Lothario type full of sexual innuendoes shows up out of the blue, one that I swear can look straight into my brain. One who might not even be a real FBI agent. Now I find out the murder scene is in the home of a drunken reprobate and skuzzy hard rocker. And it’s only day two of the investigation. Just what I wanted for Christmas. Hell on earth. Forget the peace thing.”
Black only smiled. “Again, Claire, I think you’re being a little hard on Jonesy. As for Christmas, this is going to be the best Christmas we’ve ever had. Our first Christmas with a signed marriage certificate framed and hanging on the wall. That’s enough to celebrate right there, since I never thought it had a chance in hell of happening. And then there is little Rico, and he’s enjoying the hell out of the holidays. You’ll see. I intend to make everything absolutely perfect for both of you.”
Claire relaxed. “Well, of course, you will. It’s in your nature.”
Black looked as pleased as punch. She had no doubt that he would definitely try to make it perfect. He wouldn’t stop until everything was exactly so. But she liked that about him. She liked a lot of stuff about him. Nearly everything, actually. When he walked down the hall to his office to review his daily agenda with his assistant, Claire took a quick shower, and then dressed in an old black departmental T-shirt, faded jeans, and leather snow boots, then looped her badge around her neck and holstered her Glock 19 under a nice, warm, fleece-lined gray hoodie. Okay, she was ready to face the nitwit downstairs who was probably sleeping off one gargantuan hangover. She phoned Bud and told him what she knew about Oliver Wood and Jonesy Jax. He said nobody had come to see him last night, but he had been called in this morning to testify in court, which could last all day, depending on the docket. So Claire decided to go ahead and interview Jax on her own. Well, maybe Black could tag along and keep him from molesting her. Bud said he’d call as soon as he finished testifying. She took a deep breath and went in search of Black. Claire found him in his office, watching the videotapes from the lobby.
When he saw her, he said, “Come over here, Claire. I just got this tape from security.”
When she joined him behind his desk, he started the security tape, and they watched silently as people came in and out of the lobby. “Do any of the security people know those two guys?”
“A couple guys said they’d seen them around and thought they were guests here. More importantly, they recognized Oliver Wood, too.”
Claire perked up. “No joke? He’s staying here?”
“No, but they say they’ve seen him around the resort. And what troubles me is that a few of them have noticed Wood on the shop concourse talking with Rico.”
“Oh my God. You think he’s after Rico?”
“They said it all looked innocent and casual. Usually Rico and Wood happened to play video games next to each other in the computer room. Nothing appeared out of line or looked inappropriate or they would’ve intervened. I’ll ask Rico about him when he gets home today.”
“Well, I think it’s highly inappropriate. What the hell is an older guy like Wood doing down there with all those kids? Especially if he’s not a guest?”
“Lots of grown men play video games down there, but I told the security guards to call me if they spot him again. I think this gives credence to our theory that Wood might be a photographer or a reporter, trying to get close to one of us for a story.”
“I don’t like it, Black. Maybe you ought to tell your guards to escort him off the property if they see him again.”
“I already have, but not until after I talk to him myself.”
Claire searched his face. “You’re more worried why he’s hanging around here than you’re letting on.”
“No, I’m just cautious where Rico is concerned. There’s going to be a bodyguard on him all the time, and I’ve instructed all the staff to keep a closer eye on him from now on. I’m to be called if Oliver Wood shows up anywhere at the hotel. I think that’s enough to keep Rico safe.”
Claire did feel better with the new precautions, but she didn’t trust Oliver Wood, not even a little bit. Who the hell was he, anyway? “ I hope you’re right. Are you ready to go downstairs and face your repulsive, hard-rock, lowlife, bottom-feeder buddy with me?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“That’s exactly the way to put it. If you can get loose now, let’s go ahead and talk to him. Bud’s in court. But I predict it will only take three, maybe four seconds for him to do something stupid and insulting. Want to lay a bet?”
“Snap judgments are not good things.”
“Nothing snap about it. He came on to me when I was an L.A. police officer. Maybe it’s just a quirk, but that annoys me.”
“Well, I don’t like it, either. What did he do?”
Claire told him in brief but belligerent fashion. Black listened and said, “He better not do it again, or he’ll regret it.”
“My hero. So, c’mon, Black, let’s get this over with.”
“Promise me you’ll give him a fair chance.”
“Why would I ever make a promise like that?”
Black shook his head and stood up. Claire laughed at his worried expression. She had been joking, but the truth was, if she ever got a legitimate chance to knock some sense into Jonesy Jax’s addled head, she would be more than pleased to do it.