True Blue

CHAPTER 54

MACE SHOWERED at the guesthouse and thoroughly washed her grimy hair. That was one bad thing about motorcycle helmets: your head sweats like hell in one. As she wrapped herself in a thick robe and strolled around the palatial house that was not even a third the size of the really palatial house next door, it occurred to her that it would be quite easy to get used to this sort of life if you were a normal person, which of course she wasn’t. Yet she couldn’t help but admire the quality of the furnishings and the high-level skill and attention to detail that had gone into the design and construction. Marty Altman must have been quite talented. It was easy to see from his comments about the lady that Abe had worshipped her.

What would it be like to have a guy worship me?

She dug through her backpack and pulled out a dog-eared notebook. In it she kept a list of contacts she’d used when she was on the police force. She found the name and made the call. It took several handoffs by other people, but she finally reached the lady.

“Charlotte, it’s Mace.”

“Mace Perry!”

“Come on, do you know any other Mace?”

“Are you still in that awful prison?”

“No, I’m done and out.”

“Thank God for that.”

“You still enjoying DMV?”

“Oh yeah,” Charlotte said sarcastically. “I turned down all those movie offers from Hollywood so I could stay right here and deal with angry people all day long.”

“So how would you like to deal with a happy one?”

“That’s usually a precursor to you wanting a favor.”

“I’ve got a name and address. And I’d love to get a photo of the guy.”

“You’re not back on the police force. I would’ve heard.”

“No, but I’m trying.”

“It’s harder to help out these days, Mace. Electronic eyes everywhere.”

“How about an old-fashioned fax?”

“Now there’s a novel idea.”

“So you’ll help me? Once more? For old times’ sake?”

Mace heard a short sigh. “Give me the name. And your fax number.”

Ten minutes later Mace was standing next to the fax machine in the small office on the second floor that Altman had shown her. Two minutes later the fax did its thing and the inked paper slid into the catch bin. Mace snatched it up. It was a copy of Andre Watkins’s driver’s license.

The real Andre Watkins had short, thick dark hair, wore glasses, and had no beard. His height was listed on the license and she saw that he was also several inches shorter than the guy they’d seen. So she’d been right. She wondered if the real Watkins was indeed an escort. It was such an out-of-the-mainstream occupation that Mace tended to think he probably was. That meant the imposter had dug into the man’s background.

Heading back downstairs, she happened on a four-person Jacuzzi tub tucked in a private glass-enclosed space set off from a small den. Hesitating only for a moment, Mace raced to the kitchen, opened the wine chiller set into the wall there, uncorked a bottle of Cab, and poured out a glass. Then she hurried back to the Jacuzzi, figured out the buttons, heated it up, dropped her robe, and slid naked into the hot foamy water. A minute later she snagged her cell off the edge of the tub and phoned Roy.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at work. I do have a job, remember?”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Guess what I’m doing.”

“What?”

“Pampering myself.”

“How. Taking target practice? Or zapping homeless people with those knuckle things for laughs?”

“I’m sitting in the buff in a Jacuzzi at Altman’s guesthouse drinking a glass of red wine.”

“I thought you were going to start your new job?”

“I met with Altman and went over stuff. I’m rewarding myself because I also managed to confirm through DMV that that was not the real Andre Watkins at the apartment today.”

“So you were right.”

“Yeah, but that leaves a lot of unanswered questions. When will you be done at work?”

“Four-thirty,” he said. “I’m checking out early.”

“I’ll pick you up from work. I’ll be in Altman’s Honda.”

“What happened to the Ducati?”

“Decided to give it a rest. Did you get a rental?”

“All they had available was a Mercury Marquis. It’s as big as my condo.”

“And your Audi?”

“Can you say totaled?”

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

“So where are we going at four-thirty? And what do you need my help on?”

“I’ll fill you in when I see you.”

“Does it involve getting shot at?”

“Possibly.”

“Okay, one request then.”

“Tell me.”

“The next time you call me while sitting naked in a Jacuzzi sipping wine, you can expect some company.”

“Wow, Roy, you’re so sexy when you go alpha on me.”