A petite woman with long dark hair and darkly tanned skin stood up, walked hesitantly toward the office. “I’ll be right in,” I said and offered her a drink. She shook her head no.
“So,” Ana said as I walked toward the fridge for a Dr Pepper fix, “the dead guy . . . did you really kill him?”
Heads snapped up, stared at me. “I didn’t kill anyone!” I cried. “He just happened to . . . well, die while I was there.”
Mary hustled out of my office, saying something to Ana in Spanish. She hurried out the door and was followed by three others.
One man stayed, a
“Really, I didn’t kill him,” I said to him. “He had a heart attack.”
“Did he turn blue?” Ana asked.
Ana had a sick fascination with dead people. She wanted to know all the details.
“Ana,” I warned.
“Purple? Did he get all stiff?”
I thought about Russ lying there, a prostrate stick figure, and shuddered.
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Heather Webber
“Foaming at the mouth?”
“I am not having this conversation.”
“You,” I said to the man on the couch. “What’s your name?”
“Harry von Barber.”
“Nina, I’m going to head out now.” I jumped as someone came out of the conference room to my left.
“Jeez! A little warning. A slight cough or something! I didn’t even know you were here.”
Jean-Claude apologized, then said, “I was hiding out after . . . well, you know.”
Yeah, I did know. But maybe Kit wouldn’t kill him after what happened with the dead guy and all.
He went on. “I’ve been working on the next job, doing some ordering.”
“Good,” I said, thinking maybe I wouldn’t have to fire him after all.
“Jean-Claude?” Harry asked. “Is that you, man?”
My head snapped to Harry, then to Ana, who shrugged.
Jean-Claude’s cheeks turned a fiery red. “Do I know you?”
I caught a very subtle shake of Jean-Claude’s head as he asked. Hmmm.
Harry cleared his throat. “Guess not. You just look familiar.”
My mouth dropped open. “You knew his name!”
“Lots of people with that name.” Harry shrugged, fussed with his collar.
“Uh-huh. Jean-Claude is at the top of every baby name list. I’ll have to let Tam know.”
“Tam?” Harry asked.
“I better go.” Jean-Claude fairly sprinted out the door.
Obviously Harry knew Jean-Claude and Jean-Claude didn’t want anyone to know that. Why? Did it have something to do with the late night activities he was so hush-hush about?
Had Harry been into the car stealing business too? Maybe
63
a drug dealer? Maybe he’d been arrested on possession charges. Asking him might shed some light on Jean- Claude’s nighttime forays.
“Hey, Harry, why were you arrested?” I asked.
He looked at Ana, his eyes pained. “Do I have to tell her that?”
Ana nodded. “ ’Fraid so.”
“I, um. Shhrohghn,” he said, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“What?”
He pulled his hand away. “Solicitation, all right?”
I blinked. “You’re a prostitute?”
“I prefer escort. And I’ll have you know I was entrapped.
That’s why I got locked up.”
