The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Read online

  I found her house, a smallish Cape Cod affair that backed onto the river. Not one of the most expensive homes in the neighborhood, but high dollar just the same.

  I parked the car in front of the house, walked up the three steps, and reached for the bell. The door opened before I could push the button. She’d been waiting for me.

  I took one look at her and almost took a step backward. I’d thought she was a beauty the first time I met her, but now.

  She was almost as tall as me, and in bare feet, too. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a wild tangled heap that, at first glance, looked unkempt, but it wasn’t. It was done that way by design, and it only added to the tawny, cat-like look. She was dressed, if you could call it that, only in a white T-shirt that just about covered her backside. It had the words, ‘I’m Sleepy,’ emblazoned across the front. Whew, she doesn’t look sleepy to me. Her legs would make a weak man drool. Thank God I wasn’t one of those.

  “Come on in, Harry. Thank you for coming. Get back, Buster. Let the man come in.” She was talking to a feisty little West Highland white terrier that was looking for attention. “Give me a minute. I’ll put him outside.”

  She turned and walked in front of me, and I followed her inside. Yep, it barely covers her ass.

  I looked around the living room. “Nice place,” I said, when she returned.

  “Thank you.”

  “I have to wonder, Charlie. How can you afford it?”

  She laughed, a husky, sexy laugh. “You’re not the first to ask that question. The truth is, I got lucky. It was a foreclosure. I bought it cheap, and I make good money. I’m good at what I do. Now, come on into the kitchen. Please, sit down.” She waved her hand in the direction of a group of tall stools at the breakfast bar. “How about some coffee?”

  I nodded, sat, and watched, hypnotized, as she went about making it. She poured two cups, walked around the bar, put them down on the marble surface, pulled back one of the stools, hitched up the T-shirt, and sat down, gifting me with a flash of white underwear. I felt like I’d been body-slammed, and she knew it, but there was more yet to come.

  She had seated herself in front of me, on the same side of the breakfast bar. She had one foot on the floor, the other on the rail of the stool. The effect was heart stopping. I was treated to a tantalizing and continuing view of a triangle of snow white fabric, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. She leaned forward, pushed one of the cups toward me, and picked up the other. It seemed that her legs were everywhere. She put the cup to her lips, breathed gently over the rim, gazed up at me from beneath lowered eyelids, and sipped. It was some performance. Oh, she was good.

  I managed to drag my eyes away from the vision between her legs, turned, leaned an elbow on the counter, and took a sip of my coffee. I looked her in the eye and said, “Nice.” I was talking about the coffee, but I could tell by the way she smiled she thought I was talking about something else.

  “So, you wanted to see me,” I said. Hell, I had to get my mind working again.

  “Harry, I think I’m being stalked.”

  “So you said on the phone. Tell me about it.”

  “Well, it started when I left the Read House, after I met you. I’d left my car in that multi-story parking lot just down the road from the coffee shop. I noticed him as soon as I walked outside. He was on the far side of the street, in a doorway. I didn’t think anything of it at the time; it was cold and I supposed he was sheltering from the wind.”

  I nodded. “What did he look like? Did he follow you?”

  “No, he didn’t follow me; at least I don’t think so. He was tall, quite well built, white, I think. He was wearing a heavy jacket and a ball cap. It was hard to tell. I’ve seen him two more times since. I saw him again, the next day, in the morning, at the gym.... I work out most days.”

  I had no doubt that she did, but the look she gave me as she told me was as much a message as it was information. I did my best to ignore it.

  “Where did you see him the third time? How do you know it was him?”

  “Well, it looked like the same man. It was yesterday, which is why I called you. I went shopping. I needed some new clothes. He was leaning against the wall, a couple of doors down from the clothing store.”

  “Which store? Where?”

  “Angelique. On McCallie.”

  “I put my cup down and looked at her. “Angelique? In the new strip mall?”

  “Yes. Do you know it?”

  “I do. Tell me how he was dressed.”

  “The same as before: black jeans, I think, but they might have been blue, and one of those puffy, quilty coats, dark red, or maroon, and a Braves ball cap.”

  I nodded. It sounded like it might be the same guy who was with Falk in the Sorbonne.

  “You sure he was white?”

  She nodded. “Yes... I’m pretty sure he was white, but... well I guess he could have been black. He had his hands in his pockets, and the cap was pulled down over his eyes.”

  “What about his hair?”

  “Couldn’t see it. It was under the cap.”

  It could be the same guy, but it could also be Duvon James. If it was, he was probably following me. The Read House, the mall. Duvon works out of the mall. He had every reason to be there. But... if not. Maybe it was just coincidence; too much of a coincidence.

  “And you also saw him at the gym?” I tilted my head sideways as I looked at her.

  “Yes, at the gym.”

  She changed legs, dropped the one on the rail to the floor, and lifted the other up to take its place. Oh my God. Oh my God.

  “And the gym is....?” I already knew the answer.

  “It’s a couple of doors away from Angelique. It’s brand new and they have lots of good help, trainers, and such.”

  It was time to put her at ease.

  “Charlie, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think I may know who the man was and what he was doing at the mall. If I’m right, his name is Duvon James, and he works there, in the office at the end of the block.”

  “Oh!” She seemed disappointed. “But what was he doing at the Read House?”

  “I had a run in with his boss that morning. It was a bit... intense. I think it was me he was following.”

  “Well,” she said. “That makes me feel a whole lot better. Thank you.”

  It didn’t make me feel better. I wasn’t absolutely sure I had it figured right, and I hated to admit that, even to myself. If it wasn’t Duvon, who the hell was it? I looked at her. She looked at me.

  “You sure it was the same man you saw all three times?” I asked.

  She just shrugged.

  “Call me if you see him again, and I’ll look into it. In the meantime, take care.”

  I stood and put my cup down on the counter. , and turned. I was about to leave, but.... As I turned, she slid off the stool, took a step toward, pressed herself against me, put her arms around my neck and planted her lips squarely on mine. I was so taken aback, I let it happen. At least that’s what I told myself later.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget that kiss. It was so sudden, and so complete. Her lips were moist, parted slightly, and I felt her tongue probing my lips. I have no idea how long it lasted, maybe a minute, and I admit I enjoyed every long, lingering second.

  I pushed her gently away. We were both breathing hard. She looked up at me, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes hooded. I stepped back, and her arms dropped away.

  “Not a good idea, Charlie.”

  “Why not? Are you married? Is there a girlfriend?”

  I nodded. “Something like that, but that isn’t it. It’s unethical.”

  “So.” She smiled. “You do like me, then.”

  I grinned at her. “What’s not to like? Sorry, Charlie. I need to go. I have another appointment.”

  She sighed, walked through the living room toward the door — there was that backside again — and opened the door,

  “Will I see you again?�
��

  “I’m sure you will.” But not the way you want.

  “Oh, by the way. Tabitha’s boyfriend, Michael Falk. He’s dead. Murdered.”

  “I watched her face carefully. Her eyes opened wide, so did her mouth.

  “What? How?” No doubt about it. She was horrified.

  “I don’t know anything yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know. Oh, and I’m sure the police will want to talk to you.”

  I left her standing there, staring after me. She was pale. Her eyes were watering. Not an act. If it is, she’s damned good.

  I got back into my car, turned on the radio, and sat there with my head spinning. I could still taste her, feel her, and that triangle of white... I would never forget it.

  I’ve loved the ladies ever since I became aware of their special charms, since I was about fourteen years old. I’ve known some real beauties. Some I fell in love with, like Kate. Some I just dated for a while. Some I used; oh yes, I admit it. But never had I met a woman like Charlie Maxwell. No, she was different, very different. I wasn’t falling for her, but hell... there was just something about her. There was also something else, but I just couldn’t figure it out.

  I started the car and drove north, out of the Enclave, hit the Bluetooth, and called Kate. I needed to get back to reality.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Let’s do breakfast. I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Where? When?”

  “How about the IHOP on Brainerd in say...” I glanced at the clock on the dash. “Thirty minutes?”

  “Make it an hour. I just got back from the gym and I need to clean up.”

  “Not you, too,” I muttered.

  “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”

  “Nothing. I’ll tell you all about it over breakfast, Okay?”

  She said that it was, and I headed across town. I made a stop at the liquor store on the way, grabbed a couple of bottles of red, and a large bottle of Bombay Sapphire — my stock of gin was almost out — and I headed east. And then it hit me. I had been so taken up with Charlie Maxwell that I had forgotten to ask her if I could take a look at Tabitha’s room. Too late now. I sure as hell am not going back there today. Another time... maybe.

  I waited in the parking lot until Kate arrived. When she did, it was as if a breath of fresh air had wafted in off the river. She was wearing black woolen hose, a short dark red skirt, and a black roll-neck sweater. Her hair was set in a ponytail on the left side of her head; it covered her ear and part of her cheek. As always, she looked stunning. I heaved a sigh, opened the car door, stepped out, and took her hand. At that moment, I think I was as happy as I had ever been.

  ---

  We sat opposite each other in a quiet booth in a corner of the restaurant and sipped coffee while we waited for our order to arrive. She looked at me, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  I took a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and said, “I had a call from Charlotte Maxwell this morning....” I hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  “She was frightened. Said she wanted to see me. Said she thought she was being stalked.... So I went.”

  “Okay.”

  “Kate, she was the next best thing to naked. All she was wearing was a T-shirt and panties.”

  “Panties? How do you know?”

  “Hell, I could see ‘em. I should have turned right around and left, but I didn’t. Knowing what I know, I figured she might well have someone after her. Turns out though, there wasn’t, at least I don’t think so. I think the guy she saw was following me, but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

  She leaned both elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands, and stared at me; there was the makings of a smile on her lips.

  “Go on.”

  I looked at her for a long moment. “She kissed me.”

  “She kissed you?” There was no emotion in the question, just three quiet words.

  I nodded. “Yeah, she kissed me.”

  “And?’

  “And, and, and, nothing.” I was stuttering. “That was it. I pushed her away and I got outta there, fast.”

  “So, no harm done then.”

  I heaved an inward sigh of relief, but then....

  She looked at me for a moment, a slight smirk on her face, then said, “And did you enjoy it?”

  I was about to say, ‘not only no, but hell no.’ But I didn’t. I looked down at the table, then back at her, then nodded. “I did.”

  “Right answer, Harry. Like I said, no harm done. Only a complete idiot would claim they didn’t enjoy being kissed by a beautiful woman. Just don’t let it happen again.”

  And that was it. It wasn’t a threat. She well knew my weaknesses, and she tolerated them, I think. Anyway, she said no more about it, and I knew better than to bring it up again.

  She left around eleven. Said she needed to go into the office. I went to mine. I spent a few hours browsing through some records, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t get my mind off of Charlie Maxwell. Nope, it wasn’t what you’re thinking. There was something about that girl. Something wasn’t quit gellin’, as they say. Oh well, maybe it would come to me. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t.

  I headed home about four. I didn’t plan on seeing Kate that evening; she was on call. Maybe I should give Dad a call, let him buy me dinner.

  I did. He said he would. I showered and put on some decent clothes since they don’t allow jeans in the country club. I parked the MP9 in the wall safe and headed out again. He was already there and already a little the worse for wear, or so I thought. Anyway, I met him at six and we sat down together.

  Now, there’s one thing you have to understand about my father: he’s a showman, larger than life. He’s an inch taller than I am, with silver hair, not unlike like Donald Trump’s. He’s as fit and toned as I am, not a pound of extra fat on him anywhere. He was wearing a black Greg Norman golf shirt, accented by a gold chain around his neck that would choke a horse, black Fila slacks, and a pair of black loafers. He wears his wealth well, does my old dad.

  He ordered a T-bone steak with all the trimmings and ate it all. I had a Chicken Caesar salad and left most of it. I just wasn’t that hungry.

  Afterward, we sat in the lounge and talked. He wasn’t, as I had thought, under the influence, not even a little bit.

  “So, Harry. What’s going on?”

  I shook my head. “Damned if I know. I went to see Harper on Thursday. I gave him your check. Stirred his pot a little. He was... how shall I put it? He was quietly evasive. I got the distinct impression he thought I might be recording the conversation. I wasn’t, but I’m damned sure he was. How well do you know him, Dad?”

  “Not well at all. I’ve met him a couple of times socially, and I know about his good works. I just have never have moved in the same circles of power that he inhabits. He’s very wealthy, and there’s been some talk about influence peddling, voter fraud, among other things, but it’s just talk, as far as I know. Why are you so interested in him?”

  “It’s something Kate asked me to do, but now... well. I get the feeling there’s something very nasty going on, and the congressman might be involved.”

  I reached into my pocket, took out the pendant, and handed it to him. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  He looked at it, squinted, and turned it over in his fingers. “Maybe... I think, maybe I might have seen something like it before. One of the lady members here, perhaps, but no. I don’t know what it is. Where did you get it?”

  “That’s three, then, if you’re right. Tabitha Willard was wearing this one when she jumped off the bridge. I have no idea what it is, either, but Harper was wearing a ring with the same motif.”

  He raised his eyebrows at that.

  “So it must mean something,” I continued. “They can’t just be decorative. Can they?”

  He took a deep breath, shook his head, and handed it back to me. “I don’t know. I’ll keep a looko
ut for it. Maybe I’ll run across her again, the lady member.”

  “Thanks. If you spot it, let me know who. Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet. In the meantime, I’m having Tim look into it. I’m also having Ronnie look into the Harper Foundation.”

  He nodded. “How about the Willard girl? Have you found anything?”

  “Oh, there’s something there all right. They dragged her boyfriend’s body out of the river late last night. Well, we think it was him. Guy named Falk, Michael Falk. He was a speechwriter for Harper. He was murdered. Shot. Two in the head. So now we have Tabitha Willard connected, through Falk, to Harper, and through Stimpy and Ren, to Lester Tree. Harper’s involved in something. I know he is. I’m going to get him, Dad. Bring him down, and Tree along with him.”

  “Stimpy and Ren?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Two very nasty types I saw arguing with Tabitha in the Sorbonne the night she died. Their names are Duvon James and Henry Gold; they work for Tree.”

  “I see,” he said, with a wry smile. “You need to be careful, son.”

  “Count on it.”

  I looked at the strange pendant. So now there are three. Hmmm.

  I slipped it back into my pocket, spent another half-hour making small talk with my father, then said goodbye, and headed home.

  I hadn’t even left the country club parking lot when I noticed a car pull out behind me. I couldn’t see the make or model — it was too dark — but I could see it was either black or dark blue. I let it follow me for about a mile, then made a sharp left onto Altemont, turned off the lights and floored it to Memorial, hit the brakes, and pulled off to the side of the road. Seconds later, a late-model BMW two-door hurtled past heading for Dayton Boulevard. I grinned. I’d seen that car before, parked at the rear of Shady Tree’s office. Good evening, Stimpy and Ren.

  I pulled a U-turn and drove quietly back to my home on Lakeshore Lane. The Beemer was parked 100 yards or so down the road from my condo. I drove slowly past it. I couldn’t see in — the windows were tinted almost black — but I slowed, rolled my window down, grinned out at whoever it was, waved, made a U-turn and returned to my home. I hit the garage door opener, drove inside, closed the door, and went into the kitchen and looked out of the window; they were still there.