“Well, at least, the general location. He traced a credit-card receipt to Garsdell, Alabama.”
Alabama. Just across the state border. “So close . . .”
“Maybe too close. I was wondering what he was doing on your doorstep. And why now?”
“I was thinking just last night that I would have to try to find him and Paul Black.”
“I knew that would be your next move the moment you found out that you’d tracked down the wrong killer. That’s why I made a few phone calls. It’s a very slim lead, nothing that you can get your teeth into . . . yet.”
“Then why didn’t you wait until you had something more promising?”
“Because I’ll always give you what you want, not what I think is good for you. That’s how Quinn and I differ.” He paused. “How is Quinn?”
“As disappointed as I am that we didn’t find Bonnie.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll share the news of this new opportunity on the horizon.”
“Yes, I share everything with Joe.”
“Lucky man,” Montalvo said. “But I’d wait a little while before you break it to him. He may need a period of adjustment.”
“Your concern is touching.”
“I am concerned. I told you that I was going to be Quinn’s new best friend. After all, he did save my life.”
“Yes, he did.”
“And I’m truly grateful.” His tone was sincere. “But I have to balance my obligations toward you and my duties toward my new best friend. It may be quite a challenge. Perhaps you’d better put Quinn on the phone so that I can tell him myself.”
“He’s at the precinct.”
“Then I’ll have to rely on you to tell him later,” he said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something more. Or maybe I’ll call my new best friend.”
“You’re gritting your teeth,” Jane said, as Eve hung up the phone. “Montalvo always gets a definite response from you. Though not always positive.”
“Seldom positive. Always disturbing,” Eve said. “He said that he’s possibly located one of the other men who are on the suspect list for Bonnie’s murder.”
“Possibly? Is he dangling a carrot in front of you?”
“Maybe. But he wouldn’t lie to me.”
“You trust him?”
“Yes.” Montalvo was brilliant, complicated, dangerous, and sometimes ruthless, but he was not a liar. Their relationship was complex, and she would just as soon he disappeared from her life. Yet in many ways he understood her better than anyone else. Montalvo had been an arms dealer in Colombia when Eve had first met him. He had searched for a long time for the body of his wife, who had been murdered, and had brought Eve into his search in return for the names of the three men who could have killed her Bonnie. Since she and Montalvo had suffered a similar loss and a similar obsession, that bond was hard to overlook. “I trust him. But every time I turn around, he does something that takes me off guard.”
“Such as?”
“He says he wants to be friends with Joe.”
“What?” Then Jane started to laugh. “He’s joking. Right? Joe is jealous as hell of Montalvo. He’d as soon cut his throat as look at him.”
“No, he’s not joking.”
Jane studied her thoughtfully before she gave a low whistle. “What a crafty bastard. And what a great way to insinuate himself into your life.”
“Yes. But it’s not going to work.” Or maybe it would, Eve thought. Joe had saved Montalvo’s life, and that made a difference to Montalvo. Her opinion was similar to Jane’s, but in the end no one really knew Montalvo but Montalvo. “But at least he’s still feeding me information.”
“Jelak.” Jane nodded. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing much. Only that he was one of three men who Montalvo’s investigators thought might have killed Bonnie. He lived here in Atlanta at the time she disappeared but moved and dropped from sight all those years ago.” Her lips tightened. “But I’ll know a hell of a lot more soon.”
“Through Montalvo?”
“If I have to tap him.” She finished her coffee. “But I meant Joe. I’ll call him and ask him to check out that credit slip in Alabama.” She leaned back in the chair. “Now why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep? You must be exhausted.”
“A little tired.” Jane got up and started to clear the table. “And I don’t think that even this coffee is going to keep me awake.” She took the creamer over to the refrigerator. “I doused it with milk to weaken the caffeine.” She put the creamer in the refrigerator. “Though I would much rather have had it—” She stopped, her gaze on the lower shelf of the refrigerator. “What the hell is that?”
“What?”
“That cup. It’s gold or brass or . . . It’s pushed way in the back and I almost didn’t see it. The light caught it and . . .” She squatted and reached inside the refrigerator. “I think there’s something in it.”
