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

“Aagh!” She shrieked as I choked and sprayed wine out of my mouth all over her.

  “Oh my God,” she laughed. She wiped her cheek with her hand, tried to flip the wine off her dress.

  “Here, let me do that,” I said, taking a gentle swipe at her left breast.

  “Get away from me, you brute,” she giggled. “Oh my God. I’m soaked. Harry, I need to use the bathroom.”

  “It’s through there.”

  I heard the toilet flush, and then the water running.

  “Harry, I need a hand, please.”

  Oh I just bet you do.

  I took my time, rose from the sofa, walked to the open bedroom door, my glass dangling from my hand. I leaned against the doorjamb and looked at her.

  She was on the bed; her head on the pillows, her hair a golden halo. She was naked, and she was exquisitely beautiful.

  “Dress too wet?” I said.

  She nodded, slowly, and smirked.

  “I thought you said you needed a hand,” I said, innocently.

  “I need more than a hand, you ass, and you’d better be damned quick about providing it. Now for God’s sake get out of those clothes before you burst out of them.”

  Well, I didn’t want to do that, now did I?

  Neither of us got much sleep. It was, as they say, a night to remember, and I will.

  The next morning, we woke in a tangle of legs, arms and bedsheets to bright sunshine blazing in through the bedroom window. She lay there, on her back, her arms over her head, eyes, closed, breathing slowly, like a contented kitten. I got out of bed. She opened one eye and looked sleepily up at me.

  “Coffee, please, and don’t be too long. I’m not done with you yet.”

  I gave her a grin of which the Big Bad Wolf would have been proud.

  I went into the bathroom, did the necessary, swilled cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, wrapped a towel around my waist, and went to the kitchen. When I returned with the coffee, she was already back in bed, the sheet pulled up to her neck.

  I placed one of the cups on the table on her side of the bed. I was putting mine down when I noticed the time on the bedside clock. It was 9:15. Dammit. I’m supposed to meet Kate at ten.

  “Amanda, I need to call Kate Gazzara. I’m supposed to meet her at ten. I need to call her and cancel. I’ll be just a minute.”

  I went back out into the kitchen and made the call.

  “Kate,” I said. “Something’s come up. I can’t make it this morning... no... no, I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I’ll call you on Monday. Gotta go, bye.”

  You’re right. I didn’t give her any chance at all to question me.

  “Wow, you canceled the lovely lieutenant for me. I’m honored.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am. Now tell me, what do you plan to do with the rest of the weekend? Don’t you have to work?”

  “Oh, I’m all yours, Harry. Last night was... wonderful, and I want it to go on and on. No, I don’t have to work. The station has a weekend crew. So we can spend it together, if that’s what you want.”

  Silly question. Of course I do.

  “Okay,” I said. “So I have an idea. I have a cabin up in the mountains near Blue Ridge. How about we go up there and spend the weekend together?”

  She stuck out her lower lip and frowned. “But I don’t have any clothes, other than my dress and panties.”

  “Hell, who needs clothes? You’re right though. Maybe we’ll go out to eat.... Nah. How about we stop off at your place? You can grab a pair of jeans and whatever. You don’t need toiletries. I have plenty, and steaks and wine. No phones, no TV, just you and me and the wild, wild, woods.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it, but first....” She threw off the sheet and opened her arms.

  We arrived at the cabin at a little after one o’clock in the afternoon. We spent the rest of the day hiking the woodland trails, watching the deer, and breathing the fresh mountain air. That evening I cooked steaks outdoors on the grill. By ten o’clock, we were in the hot tub under a full moon. At eleven, we flopped into bed and made love.

  It was an idyllic weekend. I didn’t realize just how much I’d needed a break, or the company of a wonderful woman. Unfortunately, as all good things do, it had to come to an end. Amanda had to be at the station by seven on Monday morning; I had to be in the office by eight.

  Chapter 16

  That Monday morning, I hadn’t been in the office more than ten minutes when my cell phone rang.

  “Harry. It’s Amanda. It’s hit the fan. It’s on the national news. Fox has it. I can’t keep it under wraps any longer. I need to give the public something, and I need to do it in the next few minutes; they are holding me over.”

  “I understand. Give me a minute or two and I’ll call you right back.”

  “Don’t be long, Harry. I’m under pressure here.”

  I called Kate. She was as mad as hell.

  “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all weekend.”

  “Calm down, Kate. I decided I needed a rest, too, so I decided to follow your lead and take the weekend off.”

  “Oh yeah? And who was the lucky woman? Not Jessica Steiner, I hope.”

  “Are you nuts, Kate? That would not be ethical. I went up to the cabin. Look, I have Amanda Cole holding on the other line. She’s gnashing her teeth. The shit has hit the fan. The news of the theft of the money has gone national and she needs something to give the public. This is what I’m thinking.”

  I outlined what I thought needed to be said, and what I thought should be kept back, namely the fact that Sattler was murdered.

  Reluctantly, Kate agreed. I also suggested she come on over to my office, and that I would have Amanda join us after her broadcast. That done, I called Amanda and gave her a few suggestions, knowing that she was the ultimate pro and would be able to flesh it out and fill in the gaps.

  That done, I turned on the TV in my cave and flipped to Channel 7, just in time to see the local morning anchor announce breaking news. I hit the record button on the cable box,

  “Good Morning. This is Michael Webb with Channel 7 News A.M. Please standby for breaking news. Let’s go straight to Amanda Cole. Amanda, what do you have for us?”

  “Thank you, Michael. According to reliable sources, Channel 7 News has confirmed that there are major problems with the locally managed equity fund, New Vision Strategic Investments. Sources close to the investigation have informed me that more than $350 million in liquid capital has disappeared, stolen, and that the managing partner of New Vision, Thomas Sattler, is dead as the result of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It is not yet known what effect the loss will have on the fund’s shareholders, but I have been assured that it will be significant. Many local investors, some of them retired, rely on their monthly dividend checks from New Vision to supplement their retirement income. Some have their life savings invested in the fund.

  “We have also learned that local police are convinced that the apparent suicide of New Vision’s senior fund manager is somehow linked to the money’s disappearance. The New Vision offices are now locked. The FBI is involved and the SEC has frozen the fund and will not comment, but it’s clear that the consequences of this enormous theft will be far reaching and will impact many local investors, such as Betsy Calder, whom I have here with me now.”

  The lady standing beside her had been chosen with care. She could not have been more than five feet two inches tall. She was overweight, gray-haired, and obviously very distraught.

  Damn, Amanda. What you people won’t do for ratings.

  “Mrs. Calder, could you please tell us how this awful thing that has happened will affect you and your future?”

  The poor woman’s face was wet from crying. “I don’t know how I’ll manage,” she blubbered. “I’m a widow. I’m sixty-six years old. The only other income I have is my social security. Without my monthly check from Mr. Sattler, I won’t be able to pay my bills. I’ll lose my home.”

  “H
ow much do you have invested in the fund?”

  “Everything. All of our savings. Mr. Sattler was a friend of my son. I trusted him. I don’t know what I’ll do now. I... I... I’m sorry.” She turned and walked away.

  “I’ll be sure to keep you updated as the situation unfolds. For now, back to you, Michael. This is Amanda Cole outside the New Vision office.”

  Thirty minutes later, the three of us were seated together in my office. Kate was in a filthy mood. Amanda was flushed, fidgety. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was on something.

  I hit the play button on the remote, and Amanda’s broadcast came up on the flat screen. We watched in silence. I hit the button and turned the unit off.

  “Any comments, anyone?” I said.

  “That was the worst piece of so-called journalism I’ve seen in a long time,” Kate said, shaking her head.

  “I hate to say it, but I agree with you,” Amanda said, and it was easy to see now what was wrong with her.

  “I had no advance notice, and the whole thing was engineered by my producer and that dick-head Michael Webb. All I did was add what little content you guys supplied. I apologize for the crappy job I did with it, but I was up against the clock and had no time to do anything else.”

  “Wow,” Kate said, “There’s one for the books, an apology from the media. Must make a note of it for future reference.”

  Whoa. That’s bitchy. She knows I spent the weekend with her.

  “So what now?” Amanda said.

  For more than an hour, we discussed the situation, then Kate had to leave. We arranged to meet later, after lunch, in the conference room. I was hoping there might be some news from Tim.

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Amanda said, as Kate closed the door behind her.

  “Hell,” I said. “She doesn’t seem to like anybody these days.”

  “She knows, about us. You do know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I figured as much. Can’t be helped.”

  “You two were together a long time?”

  “More than ten years.”

  “What happened?”

  “Senator Michaels happened.... No, that’s not entirely true. She was a big part of it, but it was something else that finally pushed her over the edge, Kate, I mean. I don’t want to talk about it. It was stupid, and I regret it.”

  “You regret having an affair with Senator Michaels?”

  “It’s not an affair. Neither one of us is married, and she’s a friend, a good friend.”

  “Yes, but–”

  “No buts, Amanda,” I interrupted. “My dealings with Linda are personal and no one’s business but our own. So let’s leave it, shall we?”

  “Er... no.”

  “What do you mean no?”

  “Harry, you and I just spent a wonderful weekend together. If you’re still involved with Michaels, what was that all about?”

  I heaved a huge sigh. “The truth is, I have no friggin’ idea. I’m not in love with the woman, nor she with me, and I haven’t seen her in more than two months. She was supposed to have been here this last weekend, but she cancelled. We talk on the phone, a lot, but she’s very busy, and so am I for that matter. Our schedules just don’t seem to gel.” I shrugged, tried to look helpless, but I’m not sure how it came off.

  “I see....” She stared at me. “So where do I fit into this... this.... I dunno what to call it.”

  I grimaced, stared back at her. “Amanda. A week ago, if anyone would have told me that I would be even the tiniest bit involved with you, I would have laughed in their face.... The truth is, now it’s happened, I kinda like it.” I shrugged again. “I’d like to continue seeing you. I won’t make any promises, but....” I let it trail off, watching her.

  She sat there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then grinned. “Sure. Why not? That was one hell of a weekend.”

  She got up out of her chair, walked around my desk, hitched up her skirt, straddled me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me. It was a long, lingering, utterly erotic kiss that, had we not been in my office with a full staff in the next room, would certainly have led to an afternoon of wild sex and absolute abandon.

  It lasted all of two minutes, and when she finally lifted her lips from mine, we were both breathing hard. She had a strange look on her face. It reminded me of a great jungle cat that had just finished a meal of raw meat. She unhooked herself, stood up, straightened her skirt and blouse, then leaned in close again, kissed me gently on the lips, and said, “Later?”

  “Yes, please, ma’am.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  She picked up her iPad and cell phone from my desk, took another deep breath. Then, with hips swinging, she strode purposefully out of my office, through the bullpen, and out through the front door; all without a backward look.

  I went into the outer office, ignored the stares, grabbed a cup of Dark Italian Roast from the Keurig, went back into my office, flopped into my chair, put my feet up on the desk, cradled the cup in both hands, closed my eyes, and... smiled. Oh boy, did I ever smile.

  It was the middle of the afternoon when she called.

  “I have the evening off,” Amanda said. “How about you?”

  Just like that. No, hello. No, it’s Amanda.

  “Yeah, I can take the rest of the day off. Dinner at my place? I’ll cook something?”

  “Oh yeah. I am so damned hungry....” She burst out laughing. “I’ll be there at seven. Make sure it’s ready for me to eat.” She hung up.

  Damn. I hope she meant what I think she meant.

  She did. Did she ever? It was another night to remember.

  Chapter 17

  The following morning, Tuesday, we were all in the conference room, including Amanda Cole, when Kate walked through the door and dumped herself down in a chair at the table next to Ronnie. Amanda had arrived just a few minutes earlier. Tim was in his usual seat next to mine. Jacque was at the far end of the table, and Mike, my serious-minded young intern, was seated next to her.

  “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” I said dryly. “Why don’t you come on in and take a seat?”

  She grinned at me, leaned back in her chair, put her hands together behind her neck, and looked around the table.

  “Hey, everybody,” she said. “The bear’s in a good mood this morning, I see. Have I missed anything?”

  They all smiled and looked away, in any direction but at me; even I had to smile.

  “Okay,” I said. “I invited Amanda to be here to keep her in the loop. Amanda. It goes without saying that everything said or discussed here is off the record, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Good. Let’s get started,” I said. “Anyone have anything to say before we do? No? Good. Well, here it is. We’re eight days into this thing and we have nothing, just a half-dozen suspects, a few prints, a hair that might or might not have belonged to the killer, and a bunch of prints, all identified, and all with a reason to be where they were, and that’s it.”

  I looked around the table. All was quiet.

  “We have no idea who stole the money. It’s reasonable to assume, however, that whoever did it, also killed Tom Sattler, right?”

  The all nodded.

  “You think so?” I asked. “Why? Why would we assume that? Tom was killed between nine-thirty and ten-thirty that evening. The money disappeared at five-thirty. There’s a four-hour gap between the two incidents. Is it reasonable to suppose that whoever wired the money got out of there and then came back four hours later to kill him? I don’t think so. I think it’s entirely possible we’re dealing with two perps.”

  Again, I looked at their faces. Mike’s was screwed up in concentration.

  “No!” Mike said, excitedly. “Maybe the killer had taken the computer earlier, maybe even one or two days earlier, and transferred the money from another location. Then he sneaked back into the house to return it, the computer, and Tom caught him, and he had to kill him.”
<
br />   I pointed a finger at him. “Good thinking, Mike. We’ve assumed all along that just because it was Tom’s computer, that the wire transfer had to have been made at his home. Not necessarily.”

  “Yeah, but even if that’s true,” Kate said, ‘“it doesn’t help any. In fact, it makes the situation even worse. It screws up the timeline completely.”

  “True,” I said, “but it also narrows the field, a little. We know from what Westwood told us, that the laptop was there on Saturday night, as late as ten-thirty, because he used it to check his email. I had Tim check some cell phone records earlier. Only six of our persons of interest were in the Mountain Shadows area between ten-thirty on Saturday and eleven on Tuesday evening: Wendy Brewer, Marty Cassell, Gloria Sattler, Richard Hollins, Stephanie Sattler, and... Jessica Steiner. Any one of them could have taken the laptop. Three of them at least, and possibly all of them, had the technical expertise to make the transfer. So let’s take a look at them. Tim, go ahead.”

  “Okay,” Tim said, flipping the screen on his iPad. “I couldn’t pinpoint the locations exactly, just to within a block or two. Gloria Sattler was there the whole three days; so was Richard Hollins, except for a few short occasions, and that’s because they live only a few hundred yards away. Stephanie, the same. Wendy was there most of the day on Sunday, and at odd intervals on Monday and Tuesday. Cassell was there on Tuesday around mid-day. Steiner must have been with him, because she was there at the same time.”

  “We know they were both there for lunch that day,” I said. “They both admitted as much during their interviews, but what about between nine-thirty and ten-thirty on Tuesday night?”

  “Only Gloria and Stephanie, again, probably because they were at home. Hollins and Brewer were not in the area during that time frame.”

  “So, neither Cassell, Wendy Brewer, Richard Hollins, nor Jessica Steiner could have killed him,” Mike said. “They weren’t there.”

  I smiled at him. “Nope. We can’t say that, Mike. All we can say is that their cell phones weren’t there. This little exercise just tells us when they were there; not when they weren’t.”