RoxannesPirate Page 19

  What do you know about him?

  She knew the name of the attorney who had accompanied him to the meeting with Bardon Collins—Heyward Champion.

  Heyward Champion’s secretary put her on hold. Roxanne took deep breaths. She would not sound frantic when she spoke. She would be in control.

  “Hello, Roxanne,” Heyward said in a pleasant voice. “What can I do for you?”

  Deep breath. “I’m trying to reach Carlos Delgado. He’s a friend of mine. I know the police were questioning him about Hector Rivera’s death. I was wondering if you’ve spoken with him.” She hesitated. “He hasn’t returned my calls. I’ve been worried about him.”

  There was a brief pause.

  “As a matter of fact, I spoke with Carlos about an hour ago. Apparently he provided a satisfactory explanation to the police of his recent whereabouts. He’s a free man if that was your concern.”

  “Yes, it was. Thank you.” Why hasn’t he called?

  “A word of advice, Roxanne.” Heyward’s voice lowered. “I’m not speaking now as a lawyer, but as your father’s friend. Forget Carlos Delgado.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Why?”

  A deep sigh. “I’m sure he’s charming, but charming men often have another altogether unpleasant side to them. I’m sorry I can’t be specific. I can only tell you, I wouldn’t want my daughter involved with him.”

  Her hand was shaking when she put down the phone. She left work early. There was little point to sitting in her office when she could not get any work done. She thought briefly of going to the gym, but she might miss his call if she was working out. The gym had spotty cell phone reception.

  Fat white snowflakes were falling. The wind picked up.

  He did not call.

  She paced from room to room in her condo, her cell phone in her hand. In the trashcan in her bedroom were the remains of her black tights, her cashmere sweater and her bra. In the bottom of her closet was the black box he’d given her. She knelt on the floor and opened the box. Here were the coils of rope and the candles and the feather and the black-handled scissors. She picked up the scissors. She pressed her forefinger to one of the blade tips. The tip was sharp and pricked her.

  “Last night was real. I didn’t dream it. I didn’t dream him.” A bright red bubble of blood formed on her finger. “He’ll call soon. I know he will.”

  Her phone rang. She jumped and looked at the caller ID, but it was her mother. She ignored the call. It rang again. Her older brother called. Then her other brother. She let all her calls go to voicemail. She paced from living room to her kitchen to her bedroom and back again.

  The wind howled.

  Had Champion lied to her? Is Carlos in trouble? What if he’s hurt? Sick? Held captive?

  She poured a glass of wine but didn’t drink it. Should she call the police?

  At two in the morning her laptop flashed with a new alert. Someone had posted a video online with a comment:

  “Recognized this beauty in Swan tonight. She’s the girl in the news photo with murdered exec Hector Rivera. She’s incredibly hot. Doesn’t look like she’s mourning the dead guy. LOL! Is this creepy?”

  The video showed Ines Da Silva standing in what looked like a fancy restaurant. She was wearing a slinky blue satin dress. Her hair was swept back in a chignon at the nape of her neck. She wore a string of pearls around her neck and a wide smile on her lovely face. John Murkley was at her side. She slipped her hand into his arm and beamed at him. She spoke.

  Roxanne could not hear what Ines said.

  “He’s here,” Murkley said. “The man of the hour.”

  Ines turned and offered a dazzling smile to another man. He had dark hair and a black moustache. It was Carlos.

  Roxanne’s mouth went dry.

  Carlos held out his hand to Murkley. His gold signet ring gleamed as it caught the light. He shook Murkley’s hand and smiled.

  “Good to see you, John. I appreciate your help today.”

  “That’s what friends do. They help each other out of tight spots.”

  The clip ended.

  “No! No! No!”

  Roxanne rocked back and forth. Her right hand shook so hard she had to hold it with her left to click on her keyboard. She had to watch the video a second time. She’d been wrong. It could not have been Carlos. She watched it a second time. It was him. She had not been mistaken. When she tried to play it a third time, there was a notice the video had been removed.

  It didn’t matter. She’s seen and heard enough. Carlos was in business with John Murkley.

  Roxanne stumbled to her bed and wrapped herself in a quilt.

  It wasn’t possible that he had betrayed her. It wasn’t possible that he had left her bed and gone to Murkley. It wasn’t possible, but it was true.

  She lay curled up in bed for hours, going over every detail of their meetings, their conversations, everything that had happened between them since the night they’d met in the hotel. She needed to put her facts in order. Needed to understand what she had missed. He had tied her up because he had been convinced she worked for Rivera or Murkley. He’d told her that night in Florida that he had suspicions about Murkley. When Roxanne had pushed him to go after Murkley, he had explained his refusal by claiming that he had no proof of Murkley’s wrongdoing and that revenge was too costly. But Rivera must have known the truth about Carlos. Rivera had guessed that despite everything Carlos suspected about Murkley, he still wanted to do business with him. He had said that Carlos was trying to ride the tiger. Rivera had meant Murkley.

  “I should have known,” Roxanne moaned. “I should have understood what Rivera meant. He was plain enough. But I was too stupid. Oh God!”

  She had stripped her soul naked for him and he had listened sympathetically and then he’d fucked her. Had he taken some perverse pleasure in knowing how soon he would betray her?

  She tried to put her thoughts in order, tried to see everything objectively, to understand all that had happened, but she couldn’t. Heyward Champion had warned her about him. She sat up. Champion had not been the only one who wanted her away from Carlos. So had Evan Blake.

  Evan knew something about Carlos. He had recognized him when they met in the art gallery in Miami. He’d told Jill to tell her to stop seeing him. Was Carlos the subject of an investigation? Did Evan know about Murkley? Did he know about Carlos’ connection?

  Roxanne rubbed her forehead. She looked out the window.

  The sky had lightened. There was a fresh coating of snow on the ground.

  Roxanne got out of bed, the quilt still wrapped around her body.

  She was not sure what road she was embarking on, but she knew what her first step would be. She would go to Evan Blake. She would find out what he knew. She would make him help her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Roxanne emailed her secretary that she was sick and would not be coming into work. She dressed in a sweater and pants and her long winter coat and took the early morning train into Manhattan with the commuters. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the train window and stared at the gray world beyond. The subway platform in Penn Station was crowded. She had to force her way through the throng to get to a train going downtown. When she reached the office building that housed the U.S. Attorney’s office in Foley Square, she called Evan Blake’s cell phone number. It was early in the morning but she suspected he would be in his office.

  “Hello, Roxy. This is a surprise.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait until this afternoon? I’m swamped.”

  “I’ll be in your office in five minutes.”

  “What? No, Rox…”

  “Five minutes, Evan.”

  She showed her identification to the security guard, presented her handbag for searching, passed through the screening device and took the elevator to Evan’s floor. He met her at the elevator.

  “You have truly lousy timing, Rox. We’ll talk in a conference room. My office is cover
ed with files.”

  He led her to a small conference room. She sat in a chair with a ripped seat. She leaned on the table. It wobbled. Evan sat across the table.

  “So…” he began.

  There was no point in small talk. “What do you know about Carlos Delgado?”

  “I thought you were here to talk about Paul.”

  She shook her head. “What do you know about him?”

  Evan exhaled. When he spoke it was as though he was saying lines he’d prepared in advance. “Carlos Delgado was involved in a lawsuit with the recently murdered Hector Rivera. He was held for questioning in that murder but released. As far as I know, Rivera’s murder isn’t a federal case.”

  “Is the FBI investigating Carlos?”

  “I’m hardly privy to every FBI investigation.”

  “Come on, Evan!” She sat back in her chair. “You recognized Carlos when you saw him with me in Miami! I know you know something more about him.”

  “As far as I know, he is not currently the subject of an FBI investigation.” Evan’s cheeks took on the slight reddish glow she’d observed in the Miami art gallery. His lips thinned as he pressed them tightly together.

  “But you recognized him in Miami.”

  He pushed his eyeglass frames up his nose. “Yes I did.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s a person of interest to the government of the United States.”

  “That’s a bullshit answer!”

  He shrugged. “That’s all I can tell you.”

  Roxanne tried to dislodge the lump in her throat but couldn’t.

  “Is he one of the bad guys?”

  A second of hesitation. “Yes he is.”

  Oh God. The tiny hope she’d kept alive in her heart died. Her hands balled into fists.

  “What’s he involved with? Money laundering? Drug smuggling?” Elspeth Perry said he had nasty friends. She knew what she was talking about.

  The red tint in Evan’s cheeks deepened. “I can’t tell you, Rox.”

  She sat back in her chair. “What about John Murkley?”

  “Who?”

  Was he pretending ignorance? “John Murkley has committed crimes of extortion, bribery, money laundering and quite possibly murder. Hector Rivera was his accomplice. Carlos Delgado is working with him.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot to pin on a guy. What proof do you have?”

  “A few days before Rivera was murdered, I heard Rivera warn Carlos about working with Murkley. Last night, I saw a video online that showed Carlos and Murkley greeting each other as friends. I know Murkley is a criminal because seven years ago he was involved with the bribery of a federal judge.”

  “Where’s the judge now?”

  “Dead. But this past year, Murkley was involved in the death of Carlos’ business partner Spencer Marshall.” She told him Elspeth Perry’s story.

  “Interesting,” Evan said. “But she sounds like an unreliable witness.”

  “Get the FBI to start an investigation and you’ll turn up better witnesses to Murkley’s crimes.”

  Evan leaned forward in his chair. “I don’t need to explain to you what budget cuts have done to this department or the Bureau. We’re all maxed out with existing cases. No one is willing to stick a neck out for a new investigation that has little chance of ending in a conviction. We’ve heard rumors about Murkley, but we need witnesses—credible witnesses who will cooperate and put on a good show on the stand. If we don’t think we’ll get that, we won’t even try to build a case. End of story.”

  “That’s another bullshit response!”

  “It’s the way things fly now.”

  “If you got hold of Carlos, you could make him cooperate. Rivera’s murder could be the leverage you need.”

  For a moment she could not see Evan’s eyes, only the reflected glare on his eyeglass lenses. “If you’ve got solid proof that Delgado has committed a crime, tell me and I’ll do what I can to bring them both down—your bad boyfriend and Murkley.”

  “I’ve told you everything I know.”

  He sighed. “It’s not enough. Rumor and hearsay don’t make a case. Not against Delgado. Not against Murkley.”

  She shut her eyes. She was nauseous. “What do you need to get a case going?”

  “A confession.” Evan gave a pained laugh. “Forget it, Roxanne. Forget Murkley. Forget Delgado. Move on.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Call Paul. He misses you.”

  Roxanne stumbled out of the building into the frigid air. She wandered the streets without direction. The cold penetrated her coat. Her hands and feet were freezing. She found a coffee shop and ordered a coffee. She huddled in a corner and held the cup to warm her hands. Listlessly she checked her BlackBerry. A message marked Urgent from Ariadne Bigelow stopped her.

  Roxanne, Elspeth Perry is in the hospital in critical condition. It appears she tried to commit suicide. The family is in shock. I’ve known Ellie since I was a kid. I plan to fly to Houston to be with her sister. I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to look at the documents you sent me. I hardly know what I’m doing.

  Roxanne stared at the screen. The message had been sent an hour ago. Her BlackBerry beeped. There was a new message from Ariadne.

  Ellie is dead. My eyes hurt from crying. So sad for her children, her husband, her family.

  Roxanne moaned. She slumped on the table, eyes closed. Elspeth’s white face blazed on the inside of her eyelids. Murkley had another victim.

  He has to be stopped. You have to stop him.

  She sat up. She typed a reply to Ariadne, expressing her condolences. She stood. Evan said he needed a confession. She would have to get one. She would have to be smart. She would have to be careful. But she had to act. She walked back into the cold, her thoughts crystallizing, a plan taking shape as she walked.

  I’ll offer Murkley a deal. A chance to make a profit over a period of time. The Bigelow Foundation. I’ll use that. Offer to divert money his way in exchange for kickbacks. But how do I get to him?

  A flash of sapphire blue caught her eye. A woman walked by with a long scarf tied around her neck. Her memory summoned up the blue dress in the dress shop in Palm Beach and the greedy girl who would fuck anyone who would buy it for her.

  Ines. The way to Murkley was through Ines. And the way to Ines?

  “Bardon Collins.”

  Her breath made a cloud of fog.

  “I need a dress. A tight, low-cut dress. Time to go shopping.”

  * * * * *

  “Nice of you to come see me in my misery,” Bardon said. He sat in his blue leather chair behind his large mahogany desk, a big grin across his handsome, ruddy face, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “You don’t look miserable,” Roxanne said. She stood in the doorway to his office. Her heavy coat was open to show off her new, clingy, purple v-neck dress. Her hair hung past her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and the blush the woman at the department store cosmetic counter had applied, along with eye shadow, mascara and lip gloss. She had looked in a mirror and hardly recognized herself. It was exactly the result she’d wanted—a painted mask for a new identity. Bardon certainly seemed to like the result. His gaze roamed up and down her body.

  “Come in and sit down, Roxanne, but leave the door open. Macauley has given me strict orders not to be alone in the office with any person of the female persuasion until this crap blows over.”

  “Which you’re certain it will.”

  Bardon shrugged. “I’m a joker. I can’t help it if some people take me seriously.”

  “Sure,” Roxanne said lightly. She took off her coat and tossed it on one of the two chairs facing Bardon’s desk. She sat on the other chair across from him.

  “So what brings you to see me on this lovely day?”

  Through the window, sheets of sleet were dropping from gray clouds. The wind blew the sleet sideways.

  “I heard about Hector Rivera�
��s murder.”

  “Yes, poor man.” Bardon looked suddenly somber.

  “Any idea who did it?”

  “I understand it was a robbery.”

  “Rivera must have had enemies.”

  “I’d say your friend Delgado qualified.” He snickered. “For some reason the man was convinced that either Rivera or I had sent you to his bed to spy on him. He was livid about it. Ines Da Silva told me it had to do with his sense of machismo. She rather admired me for taking the bold step of sending an associate to sleep with the opposition.” He laughed. “Forgive me, Roxanne, but I didn’t get around to setting her straight.”

  What scum! “It’s funny you should mention Ines.” Roxanne said. “I want you to help me get in touch with her.”

  “Really, Rox. Have a yen for the lovely Ines, do you?” Bardon’s grin broadened.

  “I have a business proposal for her.”

  He tilted his head. “You do, Rox?”

  “I would so appreciate your help.”

  “How much would you appreciate it?” Bardon’s voice was soft.

  “Very, very much.” Roxanne leaned forward to allow him a better look at her breasts in her new push-up bra.

  Bardon glanced at the open door.

  “Ines has a new man in her life. She’s busy.”

  “Please, Bardon.” Roxanne traced the curve of her breasts with one finger.

  “You’re a tease. You know what happens to women who tease me?”

  She pinched her nipples through her dress. His gaze was fastened on her fingers. “What?” she asked in her breathiest voice.

  “I treat them rough.” His lips twitched.

  “Delgado was very rough on me too,” Roxanne said. She pulled the neck of her dress lower, exposing her breasts nearly to her nipples. “He tied me to my bed. He was like an animal—scratching, biting, clawing.”

  Bardon licked his lips.

  “He fucked me hard. He made me scream.”

  Bardon’s face flushed a hard bright red.

  “He pulled his cock out and came all over my tits and my face.”

  Bardon groaned.

  Roxanne pulled her dress back in place.