concept Rafe had ever gotten his head around.
Shutting down my computer, I wandered into the ballroom to turn off the lights and sound system. We didn’t have a class tonight and I was looking forward to a quiet evening at home-take-out sushi for dinner, followed by a DVD.
“There you are,” she said as if I were an hour late for an appointment. “Where’s the thumb drive? And I want to hear all about the new pro. He’d better be in Rafe’s league, and not some second-stringer who’s available because no one else wants him.” She shot me a “you can’t put one over on me” look and walked into my office uninvited.
Reminding myself that I couldn’t afford to lose any more students, then counting to twenty, I followed her. She sat in the chair in front of my desk, legs crossed at the ankles, as comfortable and in charge as if it were her House office. I told her about Vitaly and she was finally impressed.
“Vitaly Voloshin? That’s excellent. I thought he lived in Ukraine or in Russia.”
“He recently moved here,” I said. “Your practice times will be the same as they were with Rafe. I know your schedule is tight.”
“It certainly is,” she said with a thin smile. “Being a public servant is a twenty-four-seven occupation. Some might say prison term. Speaking of which…” She glanced meaningfully at the platinum watch on her bony wrist. “If you could just give me the thumb drive, I’ve got a function to attend tonight. Ruben-my husband-is waiting in the car.”
That explained the suit. “I don’t think I’ve ever met your husband, Sherry. Does he dance?”
She looked pensive. “You know, he did when we were younger. I first got interested in ballroom dance because of him. He was so smooth. But he broke his ankle skiing eight years ago and it didn’t heal right. So now he just works. This dinner tonight is an opportunity to network with some movers and shakers who can help his company land an important military avionics contract. I really can’t complain,” she said with a forced laugh, “because I’m a workaholic, too.”
Anxious to be rid of her and get on with my sushi and movie plans, I reached into my desk drawer and extracted the thumb drive. “Here.” I slid it across the desk to her.
I knew better than to expect profuse thanks, but I wasn’t expecting the rage that tightened the skin around her eyes and drew down the corners of her mouth. “Are you kidding? Is this a joke? This isn’t my thumb drive! Mine is red. I distinctly remember telling you it was red.”
“You didn’t-”
“Oh, dear God.” She must have paled because age spots suddenly seemed more noticeable at her temples and the bridge of her nose.
She was taking this mix-up much harder than it seemed to warrant and I wondered what was really on the thumb drive.
“You’ll have to go back,” she announced.
“No way,” I said. “I’m sorry, Sherry, but-”
“Then give me the key and I’ll find someone else.” She held out a peremptory hand, palm up.
“I can’t do that.”
“You mean you won’t.”
I didn’t answer.
The anger in her eyes turned to calculation after only a few seconds. “Okay, what’ll it take?”
“Sorry?” She’d lost me.
“How much? How much to go back to Rafe’s and find my thumb drive? Tonight?” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a checkbook and waited expectantly.
“You can’t pay me to do it!”
“Certainly I can,” she said calmly. “There’s very little that money won’t buy.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. She studied my face for a moment, and I got a flash of what she must be like in a congressional committee meeting or at the poker table. Favors and back-scratching and bartering were coin of the realm in political circles. She and Uncle Nico would probably get along like Bonnie and Clyde. Come to think of it, she did kind of look like Faye Dunaway.
“Okay, then.” She put the checkbook back. “If the carrot doesn’t do the trick, it’ll have to be the stick.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“What if I told you there were documents on that thumb drive that would destroy Rafe’s reputation?”
I shifted uneasily. “Like what?”
“Photos. I don’t need to draw you a picture, do I? Sleeping with students isn’t exactly the height of professionalism. And-”
“It happens all the time,” I said, ignoring the pang I felt at this confirmation of Rafe’s routine unfaithfulness, and trying not to envision what those photos looked like.
“And,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “evidence of payoffs to ballroom dance judges. That might reflect badly not only on Rafe but on Graysin Motion, don’t you think?”
I did, indeed. “Rafe wouldn’t do that.”
“He was desperate to make this studio successful,” she countered. “And he needed the money.”
“What for?” I knew, of course, that Rafe was looking for money, and it lent a tiny bit of credence to her accusation.
She shrugged. “How would I know? He asked me to float him a loan, but I told him I had a firm rule about not doing business with friends. It’s a surefire way to lose both your friends and your money. I leased him a car instead, so he could sell his Camry.”
Staring at her, I wondered suddenly where Rafe’s new Lexus was. Had the police found it? Maybe not if it was leased under Sherry’s name. I was about to suggest that she locate the Lexus and search it for the flash drive when something stopped me. Maybe my dislike of being blackmailed. I gnawed on my lower lip as Sherry rose.
“Think about it,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll realize that we both have a vested interest in making sure the documents and photos on that thumb drive stay private.” Flicking a minute speck of dust or lint from one of her cuffs, she walked out, her stiletto heels
I sat trancelike for ten minutes after she left, my mind whirring with what she’d told me. I was ninety-eight percent sure she was lying about the bribes, but could I risk it? Sliding my desk drawer open, I fingered the key I’d dropped in there. Another visit to Rafe’s condo was probably no big deal. The police undoubtedly had been through the place by now and wouldn’t have a need to return. And whoever was there when I’d dropped in yesterday was long gone, surely. The cold, jagged edges of the key bit into my hand as I closed my fist around it.
The area around Rafe’s condo was busier in the early evening than it had been at midday. People returning from work, I presumed, watching the sporadic trail of cars disappearing into the garage. That would work in my favor, I decided, crossing the street from where I’d parked my Beetle. I’d be one in the crowd. Anonymous. The condominium complex housed young professionals-singles and couples-and people pretty much kept to themselves. I let myself into the building with the key, holding the door open for a fit-looking woman wheeling a bicycle out, then took the elevator to the fourth floor.
As the elevator door closed behind me, I scanned the hallway. No one in sight. Good. I paced rapidly toward Rafe’s door and leaned my ear close, listening for a moment. A shower ran in the next door unit and a phone rang somewhere down the hall, but I didn’t hear anything from within Rafe’s place. Dings from the elevator warned me it was coming up and might spit out someone on this floor. Jabbing the key into the lock, I pushed open the door and quickly closed it behind me, leaning against it. I surveyed the room without moving, noting immediately that the laptop was gone. The cops had taken it, I’d bet. That didn’t bode well for my search for the thumb drive.
I pushed away from the door, intending to start my search around the coffee table where the computer had been, when the slap of bare feet on wood made me whirl to my left.A man stood in the dim hallway, towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair, knife held confidently in one hand and pointed at my stomach.
