Until Noon (10 page)

“Why does Petron invite you to headquarters?”

“You must ask him.”

“I will.” Inside, her heart picked up a beat. Her skin grew clammy with fear for her

job, her security. To be foiled by a man—a colleague—
again
would make her silly.

Stupid.

“Enrique and I were boyhood friends,” he told her. “Went to school together. I like

him. Trust him. He trusts me as well, so it’s probably natural he would reach out to me.

Beyond that, I have no idea what he wants or why. So ask him,
cara
.”

Finding a parking spot in crowded Barcelona was like looking for a goldfish in a

barracuda tank. But minutes later, as if by magic, Raul squeezed his gargantuan SUV

into a teeny-tiny space. He hit the automatic lock as he took her hand and led her across the street to the old police station that had survived more than a century of regime

changes and wars. Inside, the appointments were all modern steel and glass. Even the

metal detectors that screened Pilar’s purse and Raul’s keys and change were digital, fast and efficient.

“Good thing you didn’t bring your gun,” she whispered as they were whisked up

to the fifth floor in the glass elevator.

Raul chuckled, his eyes glowing as they scanned her face. “Amazing. What do you

not see?”

She rolled a shoulder, grinning. “Evidently, not Petron’s man on the dock. And you

neither.”

The doors swished wide and Raul put a hand to the small of her back to emerge. “I

was immersed in another pursuit.”

She snorted. “Immersed?”

His gaze turned deliciously dangerous as he gazed at her. “Drowned.”

Trembling at his declaration, she swallowed back the compulsion to kiss him there

in the midst of wherever-the-hell they were. “I was gone too.”

He brushed the swell of her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “We must be more

careful.”

She caught his thumb between her teeth and nipped him. “We will.”

Mesmerized, he pulled his hand away. “Let’s find Enrique.”

They asked a passerby who pointed to the left side of the massive hall.

Just inside double doors, Enrique strode up to them. “You were quick. Come.” He

led them back to the elevator and down to subfloor two. “Our morgue and forensics

labs are down here. It’s the usual sub-arctic temperature. And of course, it smells of the dead. But I promise to have you in and out in a flash.”

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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

“What’s this all about, Enrique?” Raul asked him as the detective buzzed the hall

monitor to open the insulated doors to the morgue.

“You wanted information. I have it for you. And I’ve hit a dead-end. A giant

puzzle. Only you, Raul, can tell me what I need to know and do it so quickly. I have no patience with formalities. You must behave as if you are officially on this investigation.”

Swell.
Pilar didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Raul, who was not even officially on the case, was allowed access. Was she along for the ride as his—
what?
—girlfriend?

His fuck buddy? What an insult. Bubbling with indignity, she opened her mouth to ask

Petron why Cordona knew answers.

“And you,
Señorita
,” Enrique continued as he led them past dead bodies covered in white sheets, their toes decorated with white tags. “You must tell me the other half of my puzzle. I do not wish to waste my time or yours applying to the EU for the details of what I am certain only you must know.”

That shut her up.
Christ, what an idiot I am when I can’t see this man is not Rhys.
This
case is not that other one. Smarten up!
“I’ll do what I can.”

Enrique led them to one steel table where the body of Tony Graham lay face up, his

torso splayed open from chest to abdomen.

She bit her lip.

Raul turned green.

“We’ve looked at everything. Cause of death is strangulation. The blows to his head

came afterward. The killer wanted to be sure he had really done his worst. But we have petechiae, redness in both eyes. We also have abrasions to posterior neck region and left clavicle. In other words, Tony and his assailant struggled, fought. From the extensive injuries, I’d say two men attacked him. Surprised him. Got to him, one behind him, one in front. I have three of my men combing the hillside for more evidence. What they

found to date is trash thrown around by tourists. Here’s where I need answers.” He

turned to Raul. “Ask his friend, your boss—what is his name?”

“Adam Molloy.”

Enrique nodded. “Ask him if Tony liked to go to strip clubs.”

Raul frowned. “I will. Not a problem.”

Want to share why you asked that question?

Enrique stared at the body on the table. “Ask Molloy if Graham liked to scuba.”

“Scuba?”

Pilar got that tingling sensation. She was sure this was another clue that Tony had

been doing a superb job of finding Roca’s saboteurs. Her gaze drifted to Raul’s and his nod confirmed her suspicions that the two of them had been right to go to Tafoya and

learn about Tony’s rental of the boat.

“What are you thinking?” she asked the man.

Enrique faced her. “Here’s where I need to learn what you know. I understand your

unwillingness to share too much and compromise your investigation into Roca’s

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Until Noon

problems. But I do not care for delay. A man is dead. I promise you not to infringe on your own assignment. But this is a murder case. Help me and I will help you.”

Her hackles rose. Her pride rebelled but it lost to her common sense. Was she

perceived everywhere as a selfish bitch? She’d have to work on that. Here. Now. “I can cooperate with you, Detective. What is it you need to know?”

Enrique shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Graham has

sand under his fingernails. My forensics staff analyzes it now. But reason says the man had recently been to the beach. A local one. So recently, so local that he never took the opportunity to wash all the grains of sand from his hands. So,
Señorita
—”

“Pilar,” she corrected him and gave him a small smile.

He nodded. “Pilar, what beach do you suspect he was strolling before he met his

attackers in Montserrat?”

“Roca’s, I would conclude.”

“My thought too. Because a few of those attacks must have been possible only if the

intruders landed on Roca’s privately held shores.”

She agreed. “Did Tafoya tell you about the surveillance boat Graham hired to take

him out to the bay?”

Enrique blinked, clearly startled. “No, he did not.”

“Tafoya has no record, only a verbal confirmation from Graham that that is what he

wished to do. Today. Tafoya has no idea which rental company. No invoice, nothing.

We must wait to see which it was.”

“I will have Tafoya’s hide for not telling me this,” Enrique blurted, his angular face contorted in anger.

“The man,” Raul said, “is an idiot. He barely knows how to run the company.”

“Do you think,” Enrique asked, his eyes wide, “he is involved in this?”

“No, no,” Raul told him. “I would suspect that he is innocent of wrongdoing. Just

incompetent.”

“But his inefficiency,” Pilar added, “may make him partially to blame for his

problems. However, two favors you can do for me would ease many of our problems.”

The detective opened his hands in agreement. “Tell me. I need to solve this

murder.”

“And I need to solve this mystery,” she said.

“What can I do for you, Pilar?”

“You can lean on the city maritime commissioner to release the maps of the harbor

and all records of property ownership,” she told him. “They delay and I know no

reason for it. ”

Enrique arched his brows. “Spanish government bureaucrats behaving badly. I will

call and it will be done today. What else?”

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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

“Have a few of your detectives call all the boat rental companies in the harbor and

find out which one had a reservation this morning for Anthony Graham.”

“I’ll send it to your phone via text,” he said as he led them from the morgue toward

the elevator.

Pilar turned to Enrique. “Can I ask you to share with us why you think Graham

frequented strip clubs?”

“You’ve been forthcoming with me. I know how to reciprocate. In his suit coat

pocket, he had a card for a club along the docks near Roca’s headquarters.”

“The name of it?” Raul pressed him.

“Sesenta y nueve.”

“Sixty-nine?” Pilar could not hold back her laughter. “A little obvious to name a

strip club that, isn’t it?”

Raul snorted. “Call a spade a spade. Who owns it?”

“A Catalan who keeps his nose clean enough to continue to keep his license. Many

fishermen frequent the club.” Enrique held out his hand to allow Pilar to enter the

elevator before the men.

She crossed her arms. “Will you tell us why you asked Raul to find out if Graham

liked to scuba dive?”

“A complete outfit stood in Graham’s hotel closet. It’s new.”

“Can you test to learn if he used it?” she asked, her nerves on red alert. Did Tony

take his investigation so seriously he would scuba around the harbor to follow clues?

“I have my forensics team on that too. But you know how that work goes.”

“Slowly,” said Raul.

“
Sí
, and I have only three men in that department. We are on double shifts to solve this case.”

The elevator doors opened and Enrique escorted them toward the front exit. “I had

a call from my chief of police this morning. The reason I need a swift solution to this murder is that the British Ambassador to Madrid has requested information and

demanded a speedy resolution of Graham’s murder.”

“Ah.” Raul inhaled, shaking his head. “So now it’s an international issue.”

“It always was,” Pilar told both men. “
Muchas gracias
, Enrique. I am happy to work with you.”

“
Sí, gracias.
I feel the same, Pilar.” They shook hands.

“Stay in touch,” she told him. “And text us that information.”

“I will. You, too.”

Before she turned, she threw the detective a broad smile. “As for your man who

followed us this morning?”

“
Sí?
” Enrique grinned. “He was there to protect you.”

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Until Noon

Raul stiffened. “Really, Enrique, that is not necessary.”

“Not to protect you from each other, no.” He chuckled, then turned sober. “But

from whoever would seek to end this investigation? Yes, I will tail you. I may be short-staffed, but I am not interested in having an American security agent and an EU

investigator hurt in my city on my watch. Take all of your private enjoyments behind

closed doors—and yes, be aware of who else follows you.”

Raul bristled. “What? There is another?”

“A short thin man in a black knit hat. We ran facial recognition software but we

have no identification. Yet.”

* * * * *

“Let’s have some tapas and a glass of wine.” Raul gave her a tight smile as they

approached his SUV. He saw the tension in Pilar’s body, the way she searched the

sidewalks and rooftops for their mystery stalker. He pointed toward the far corner. “I know this restaurant very well and the food is superb.”

“I am hungry. It’s a good idea.”

He took her by the arm and led her deep into the discreet bistro. Brushed steel

chairs and tables covered in crisp white linens were arranged in a semicircle out to the sidewalk. Inside, subtle lavender lighting lent the pale gray walls a charming glow and the aromas from the kitchen wafted out to make his mouth water. At the back, a

guitarist sat on a stool, a large acoustic guitar in his lap, and played soft flamenco music. This atmosphere was just what Raul figured he and Pilar needed to unwind after a long morning of surprises.

“This is charming,” Pilar said as he pulled out a chair for her to be seated.

“You will love the food. The owners too.” He took a seat close to her, facing the

street.

She arched a brow. “Canvasing the area, are you?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Why not? One must eat and drink. I can work at the

same time.”

“Are you a workaholic?” She leaned toward him, folding her hands together before

her and grinning at him.

“When I am on a job, I am, yes. Speed is the finest advantage an investigator has

when attempting to solve a crime. Ah, Carlo!
Buenos dias!
”

His friend, who had made his reputation by cooking fabulous feasts for his college

buddies, emerged from the kitchen. “Raul, I thought you were vacationing up north.”

“I was. An emergency called me back to Barcelona.”

“I see your emergency and she is lovely.” Carlo Roderiguez bent low over Pilar to

bow. “I would drive quickly to find her and keep her. Are you certain,
Señorita
, you feel safe with this Don Juan?”

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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

“Oh, now, Carlo—”

“Do not deter me here, Raul. Is he being good to you?” the rogue asked Pilar with a

wicked grin.

“He is, Carlo. Perhaps too good.”

Carlo clacked his tongue. “Do not fall for him.”

Pilar’s gaze danced over to Raul. “Have you proof?”

“Proof? The lady wants proof you are dangerous? Really, Raul. What have you not

done yet that she asks such a thing?”

The three of them laughed, but Raul feared Carlo would joke too much with Pilar

and warn her off him. His college friend knew much of his past. The women he had

slept with, far too many in his youth. The women he had lived with, two too many, but more than five years ago now. Had he loved any of them? Never. “Do not listen to him, Pilar. He paints me blacker than my deeds.”