Lying Eyes Page 2

  Carlo sighed. "Understood."

  "Something bothering you, Detective?"

  "Yes, Sir. I don't relish putting Miss Marble further at risk. I was hoping you would come up with a better plan."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, Carlo. I can tell you've put a lot of thought into this and you're already on the scene, so I'm putting you in charge. Anything else I can help you with?"

  Oops. I don't want to be the reason the Captain loses his cool.

  "One more thing," Carlo said. "Start someone searching for a gym bag like the one I'll be tagging as evidence."

  "I'll put an officer I'm sure I can trust on it as soon as the bag arrives.

  "A uniformed policeman is the best deterrent to total mayhem I can think of. As we discussed when you asked to be off this weekend, your appearance at the conference will be good public relations for the Department. Oh, another thing, if you aren't already in uniform, get into one now and stay in uniform until this mess is resolved."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Good. Where is Miss Marble now?"

  "Seated at her desk, giving herself a manicure." She glared at him.

  Shrugging, Carlo took his cell off speaker.

  "Good. Keep a close watch on her and ask her to order party trays and drinks for later. Charge everything to your room. Say it's for a pre-conference cocktail party she'll be hosting tonight at six. I'll be there, too. Extend a personal invitation to the head of hotel security. We'll need the hotel's cooperation if this plan is to succeed, and at the party we can finalize the plan with everyone involved."

  "Right."

  "Oh, and, Carlo, let's keep all mention of the money under wraps. I see no need to get the DEA involved until we know the source of the money. And it wouldn't do for word to get out at Central that we're holding a large amount of cash in the evidence room. That could prove to be too great a temptation to anyone in a financial pinch. Actually, let's keep all the details of this entire police action quiet. I certainly don't want the press involved."

  "Agreed."

  "And remember. Neither of you is to leave that room until I put my stamp of approval on this unprecedented scheme of yours. Got it?"

  "Yes, Sir," Carlo said and disconnected the call.

  Allison grinned at him. "I expected you to salute."

  "I'm in law enforcement, not in the Army," he said, his jaw tight.

  "Do I get to stay?"

  "Only if you do as I say."

  She huffed again. "What if I think of a better plan?"

  "Don't even try."

  "But I—"

  "No. Shush. I need to think, not be bombarded with a string of questions. Hold your complaints for the Captain. He's coming to the cocktail party."

  "I don't know anything about a party. Wait a minute. We haven't even registered for the conference yet. How did the Captain find out about a party before we did?"

  "Slow down, Miss Marble. And please, don't take off on another tangent without giving me time to explain."

  When she huffed a third time, he hid a grin. "You're throwing the private party right here in this room at six sharp, courtesy of LAPD's Central Division. Only the undercover police officers and hotel security involved in this sting will be invited."

  "I am? What do I get to do?"

  "Order the food, smile prettily when your guests arrive, and act gracious, like any good hostess would."

  She preened for a moment. "I can do that, but I meant later. How do we lure the owner of the money out in the open?"

  "The Captain hasn't approved your part of the plan yet. Oh, one other thing. He insists we keep this entire operation under wraps. That means no phone calls home, no chatter about this on all those social networks I'm certain you frequent, and don't write a word about this case until it's solved. I'm sure you're dying to tell everyone you know about the money and your lost makeup, but the Captain says 'Not a word to the press.' Understand?"

  "Sure. I can wait, but bright and early Monday morning the wraps are coming off. Is the Captain coming to my party so I can find out how to lure out the perp?"

  "The Captain has to put his stamp of approval on any plan. He hasn't yet."

  "But he will?"

  "No. He may."

  "Good. I can't wait to report to my viewers that on my weekend off I took part in a successful undercover sting."

  Carlo scowled.

  *****

  Allison grinned, delighted at the detective's obvious aggravation. She figured he was far too accustomed to having his way, and she was just stubborn enough to keep him from always getting it. "Are you having second thoughts, Detective?"

  "Not about my plan. About you."

  "Me?"

  She sat straighter, causing her long hair to dance around her shoulders. When the detective's hungry gaze followed its path she swallowed a grin. "I can't wait to—"

  "That's just it, woman. You're too damn anxious to lay your life on the line."

  When she remained silent he added, "What will it take to make you accept the danger you'll be in the moment you step out of this room?"

  "You'll be right beside me when I do, won't you?"

  "Yes... but I can't assure your safety without help."

  "Sure you can. From here I can see a stun gun, a canister of mace, and a holstered service revolver strapped to your waist. I'll bet you're packing a bunch of hidden weapons, too."

  Carlo sighed. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to draw a .45 caliber Glock, take aim, and fire it?"

  She batted her eyes at him. "No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me."

  "Miss Marble—"

  "Go ahead, Detective. Impress me with your vast knowledge and skill."

  His growl became more pronounced as he paced the length of the room and back. He stopped right in front of her, waggled his finger in her face again, and shook his head.

  "You seem like an intelligent woman. Use your brain. In the time it would take for you to step into the hall, a desperate perp could put a bullet between your pretty eyes."

  If he was trying to frighten her, it wasn't working.

  "You're going to stop him, aren't you? I can write my scoop and you'll be off the hook as far as protecting me is concerned. Maybe I'll become a true-crime writer since I'll be right in the heat of things."

  He growled again, and plowed his fingers through his curly hair.

  Her smug grin caused the detective to glare at her, but she decided to ask him the question uppermost in her mind anyway. "Do you honestly believe the perp will shoot me before he gets his money back?"

  "He's bound to if you aggravate him as much as you aggravate me."

  "Temper, temper, Detective."

  He inhaled deeply and slowly let out the breath. "You know, you may be right. Until the perp finds out where the money is, he needs you alive. Still, I don't intend to let you do something stupid to test your theory."

  "Once those officers come and take the money we should be able to leave my room without worrying about my safety. Right? The perp will be busy trying to break into this room. He'll be convinced the money is still here."

  Grinning, she waited for him to agree.

  He did, reluctantly.

  "And we'll be free to roam the halls."

  She tried to hi-five Carlo, but he dodged her uplifted hand.

  "The perp still might lie in wait in the Conference Center for his chance to get you alone and drag you back here to retrieve his stash."

  A possibility she hadn't given much thought.

  Allison's heart painfully wrenched, and eased with her next thought. "He won't succeed, not with you around."

  Carlo narrowed his eyes at her as he smacked his fist against the wall.

  She jumped.

  "Listen to reason, woman. You will be a sitting duck every minute until this crook is caught. I'm responsible for your safety. If I have to hog-tie you to keep you safe, I will. You are not to go off on your own or do anything else equally foolhardy. Not on my watch."

>   She frowned. "You sound like you're planning to lock me in this room and throw away the key."

  "I'd like to." He made a gallant effort to regain his composure. "You asked for my help. Remember?"

  "Yes."

  "So. Let. Me. Help. Please," he added, plowing his long fingers through his thick curly hair.

  The detective's cell phone rang. He grabbed it. "Demetri."

  His eyes narrowed at her as he listened intently.

  "I'm on my way." Pocketing his phone, he said, "The Conference Chairman needs to see me. I have to go. Throw the security lock behind me and stay right here until I get back."

  He hurried out.

  She threw the lock, called hotel catering, and ordered hot canapés, four trays of sandwich wraps, and drinks for the party and gleefully charged the cost to the detective's room.

  Pleased with herself, she strode to the dresser and opened a shallow drawer, planning to put away her cosmetics.

  Darn! I don't have any makeup to unpack.

  Slamming the drawer shut, she opened a deeper drawer. She tried to slam it, too, but her index finger got in the way. She slammed the drawer on it.

  "Ouch. Darn. That hurt." She sucked the tip of her aching finger and examined the injury.

  The tip was already turning blue.

  "This is Mister Uptight Detective's fault," she said to the image reflected in the dresser mirror. "Who does he think he is, ordering me around like a misbehaving child? If he hadn't made me so angry, I would've had my mind on unpacking, instead of on him."

  What should she do?

  Ice will deaden the pain.

  She glanced at the small refrigerator and groaned.

  There are no ice cubes in there.

  She'd checked as soon as the bellhop had left, hoping to quench her thirst with a cold drink, but had discovered no one had refilled the ice cube trays.

  So much had happened. Someone had switched bags with her. Detective Demetri had turned into a dictator. She'd smashed her finger. What next?

  She couldn't do anything about the detective, but she knew how to keep her finger from swelling.

  Go get ice.

  Allison pocketed her room key, grabbed the ice bucket, and hurried to the ice machine.

  Moments later she wrapped her arm around the half-filled ice bucket and rounded the corner leading to her room already mentally unlocking her door.

  A scowling man blocked her way.

  "Excuse me—"

  He clamped his beefy hands around her upper arms.

  Irate at his audacity, Allison wrenched one arm free and tossed the ice bucket at him.

  Startled, he turned her loose.

  Screaming like a banshee, she headed for the safety of her room.

  A commotion erupted behind her, but she refused to slow her steps to glance back.

  "Allison!" a familiar but panicked voice shouted, rounding the corner like a Keystone Cop brandishing his gun.

  His feet flew out from under him. He landed hard on the carpeted floor, scattering ice in every direction.

  Uh oh.

  His gun went flying, too.

  He quickly righted himself and, half running, he holstered his gun, and skidded to a halt at her side.

  "Are. You. All. Right?" he panted, stopping at her door.

  "Yes, but the perp—"

  "—crashed into me as I exited the elevator. He took the same elevator Up, scared off by your shrieks, I imagine. He's long gone for now. See why I need help?"

  Unlocking her door with hands far steadier than hers, he dragged her inside.

  He threw the security lock with a loud thump, and turned to her.

  "What part of 'Stay put until I get back' did you not understand?"

  "Everything else slipped my mind when I smashed my finger—" Giving him the finger, she shook it in his livid face. "I went for ice to stop the pain."

  "And could have easily gotten yourself killed," he said with barely controlled fury.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek.

  "Well, yes, but—"

  "No buts. Remember?" Loosening his tie, he raised his voice. "Are you ever going to start listening to me?"

  "Stop shouting. I am listening."

  He must have counted to ten before nodding. "Good."

  After a moment of silence, Allison stalked to the closet, opened the luggage rack, and attempted to lift her suitcase onto it.

  "Here, let me do that. I thought you said your finger hurts."

  Hands on her hips, she stepped aside. "Thank you. Yes, I smashed my finger in the dresser drawer but, thanks to all the excitement, it no longer is bothering me."

  She unzipped the suitcase and reached for a coat hanger. "When I was growing up my older brother behaved just like you. Always so darn sure he knew what was best for me. There was no reasoning with him."

  She strode to the closet, took out three more hangers, and shook them in the detective's self-righteous face. "I have news for you. I'm not at all convinced your way is the best."

  "I am. Enough said."

  "Were you this overprotective of your sisters?"

  Pain and guilt flashed in his flinty, coal eyes.

  Careful. You just crossed some invisible line.

  The detective strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared at the busy street below. While his attention was elsewhere, she stuffed her silk panties in the shallow dresser drawer away from his observant eyes and carefully pushed the drawer closed.

  "I never had a sister." He swallowed, glancing away. "Only brothers."

  She barely heard his pain-laced reply.

  "Did you try to tell them what to do?"

  "Yes, but neither one listened and now both my brothers are dead."

  Chapter Two

  "I don't know what got into me," Carlo said. "I never talk about my brothers to anyone."

  "Sometimes talking about the difficulties we've faced helps," Miss Marble said. "Next time you go all Rambo on me, I'll know where you're coming from."

  He forced back a grin.

  She zipped her now empty suitcase and put it away. "I better change into something more suitable for hosting a cocktail party. Will you still be here when I come out?"

  Carlo winced. "Looks like I'm stuck with you for the foreseeable future. Don't hurry on my account."

  She strolled around the room, opening drawers and closet doors, until she smiled with satisfaction, black garments he thought best he not dwell upon clutched in her hands.

  She ducked into the bathroom but fired off a parting shot. "Don't miss me too much."

  Carlo balled his hands into fists.

  How could one diminutive woman in a matter of hours worm her way so completely beneath my skin?

  The shower turned on.

  Needing to do something, anything to get his mind off the irritating woman he pictured preparing to step beneath the shower head's soothing spray, Carlo let loose a frustrated string of curse words meant only for his ears.

  Miss Marble sure undressed fast.

  For a woman whose life could be in danger, she's tough.

  Most women would have run out of the hotel screaming instead of staying here to face the perp.

  He probably had Allison's brother to thank for her resilience. Most women would be a bundle of nerves by now.

  Even when he'd tried to frighten her, she'd refused to cower.

  The Captain will set her straight about traipsing around the Caprice as if nothing untoward has happened.

  Carlo couldn't wait for the two of them to meet.

  He'd just stand back and watch the fur fly, one show he didn't plan to miss.

  To take his mind off the sounds coming from Allison's shower, Carlo called the head of Hotel Security, Bob Stonewall, and asked him to come to 510 right away to discuss a security matter of utmost importance.

  Even so, the knock at Allison's door made him jump.

  "Security."

  Carlo matched the badge held to the peephole in the do
or to the grim-faced man waiting in the hall, let the head guard in, and flipped the second lock on the door.

  Stonewall leaned the safety door-protection-rod he'd carried in against a wall of Allison's room, shook Carlo's hand, and introduced himself. "Bob Stonewall."

  "Detective Demetri. That was quick."

  "We pride ourselves on having the most efficient elevator service in the business. Is there a problem?"

  "Yes. Please, sit. I promise not to take too much of your time. This is the problem."

  Carlo unzipped the gym bag and showed Stonewall the contents.

  Peering inside, Stonewall whistled. "I'll say. Where did you get this?"

  "Someone swapped gym bags with Allison Marble, the occupant of this room. We think it happened at the train station. The person responsible has already made one attempt to recover the bag. I've called Central for backup."

  Obviously puzzled, Stonewall asked, "How can my staff help? I can't promise this much cash will be safe in the hotel safe."

  "Don't worry. Within the hour this bag will be officially logged in as evidence of a crime and smuggled out of the hotel. The perp will have no way of knowing his bag is no longer in this room. Once my team is in place I'd like you to make certain the lines of communication between my personnel and yours remain open at all times."

  Stonewall nodded. "I can assign men in plain clothes to watch this floor in twelve hour shifts."

  "Thank you. With so many guests milling around, the lobby will be a problem, too. When she comes out, I suggest you take a photograph of Miss Marble and pass it around to the Caprice staff."

  "Of course."

  "My Captain and the rest of my team will be here in a couple of hours to attend a staged cocktail party and I'd like you to come to the meeting, too. The purpose of the party is to set a plan in motion to guarantee Miss Marble's safety. She is presenting a workshop at the conference and will be attending many other events as well in the company of two female undercover cops."

  "Sounds like you've thought of everything, Detective."

  "Only time will tell. and another thing— if the room next door is unoccupied, could you have my luggage moved from room 605 into it? Until more help arrives, I'm stuck here."

  At the sound of the bathroom door opening, Stonewall stood. "If the adjoining room is occupied, I'll upgrade the occupants to a suite, so consider it done. Anything else?"