Operation Notorious Read online

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  Katie hung the last floaty, cloth ghost from the beam over the library information desk. It matched the one in her office window and completed the library’s Halloween decorations. This had been a huge success at the prior library she’d worked at, with parents happy to have something else for their kids to do than go door-to-door. Especially given that so often the end of October meant a rainy if not downright stormy night. She had hoped it would be the same here, but hadn’t expected the number who had signed up for this first ever event at the new building tomorrow. She’d planned on getting all ready earlier, but the news about her father had disrupted everything.

  She leaned back on the short stepladder to see if she liked the arrangement of ghosts and jack-o-lanterns alongside orange and black streamers.

  “Nice.”

  The deep, masculine voice startled her, both because it was so close and because she recognized it.

  But when she twisted on the ladder to face Gavin de Marco, he wasn’t looking at the decorations. His eyes, those dark, smoky eyes, were fastened on her. And again he hadn’t shaved, the slight stubble giving him the rakish air it usually only gave celebrities who studied the effect in the mirror before stepping outside to be seen. She was certain Gavin had merely not wanted to take the time.

  She was suddenly aware that her backside was about at his eye level and wished she’d worn something a bit less snug than leggings. But she’d known she’d be up and down the ladder today, and had gone for comfort. She felt her cheeks heating, and quickly scrambled down the ladder. By the time she hit the floor she’d recovered her poise.

  She waved toward the line of ghosts and pumpkins. “I’m glad you like them,” she said, quietly as always when she was out on the floor. She wasn’t sure if she hoped he’d say he hadn’t been talking about the ghosts, or not. “The kids seem to, and that’s what it’s all about. It’s for the story night tomorrow. You probably saw the sign out front. It’s the first time here, so we’re going all out.”

  God, she was rambling like an idiot. So much for poise. Shut up, Katie!

  She waited, half expecting him to laugh at her. Instead he said, keeping his own voice low, “What Halloween story?”

  Did he really want to know, or was he politely trying to save her from her own jabbering? Odd in itself, since she didn’t tend to that. At least not so mindlessly. But the thought of him whispering had somehow derailed her efforts at composure.

  Fortunately she’d had to answer this before, so she had a response ready. “It’s a collection of short stories I’ve put together over the years. Just scary enough but not too scary for kids. Then we top it off with a movie based on one of the stories. It’s good fun for adults, too. If you wanted to come, I mean.”

  You did not just say that.

  But one dark eyebrow lifted, and she knew she had. If he laughed at her, at the very idea or the unintentional double entendre, she would be more embarrassed than she had been in her adult life.

  And if he didn’t, she would be one step closer to deep, deep trouble with this man.

  Chapter 17

  Katie gave herself an inner shake and put on her most professional, library sound-level voice. “What can I help you with? Not looking for a book, are you?”

  Gavin’s dark eyebrow arched up again. “What would you recommend if I was?”

  “Depends. What was the last book you read?”

  “The U.S. Patent Prosecutor’s Desk Reference.”

  She blinked. “Wow. Case-related, or was that for fun?”

  “Not much fun in it. But some of it is more interesting than you might think.”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment. “The case histories, and SCOTUS decisions?” He seemed surprised at her words. Or perhaps her familiarity. Her mouth quirked. “You’re the most famous, and probably the best, but you’re not the only lawyer in town.”

  He chose to answer her original question, ignoring the rest. “It was research. We were helping a kid who had his invention stolen. No one would take him seriously because he was only fifteen.”

  “Good for you,” she said, meaning it.

  He shrugged. “Foxworth” was all he said, as if that answered it completely. As, perhaps, it did.

  “I assume you didn’t really come here for a book recommendation,” she said.

  “No. I needed to ask you about something.”

  “All right.” She gestured past the information desk. “Let’s go to my office.” When the door had closed behind them, she turned to face him. He was looking around the room.

  It wasn’t huge, although it was bigger than her old office. There was plenty of room for her desk and the credenza behind it, a couple of chairs for visitors, and—of course—the big bookshelf on the opposite wall. It held all her very favorite books in different genres, so that she could hand one to someone and have them read the beginning to see if they’d like it. Then she could get them either a print or ebook copy to check out. The rest of the wall space held framed book covers, of everything from Mark Twain classics to the world-famous wizard series, all stories she’d read repeatedly and loved.

  She watched him, guessed there wasn’t much he missed in his perusal. Now that they were in the semi-soundproofed environs of her office, she spoke in a normal voice. “What did you want to ask?”

  He took her cue and spoke normally now. It wasn’t much of a relief, Katie noticed with an inward grimace. “I need contact information for Laurel’s family.”

  “Of course. They’re in Arizona now,” she said, reaching for her phone on the desk, and brought up the info. Then she looked at him. “Is it all right if I call them to say you’ll be in touch?”

  “You’ve talked to them recently?”

  “Last week.” She didn’t mention that the call to Laurel’s mother had ended with them both weeping inconsolably. “They’re still pretty broken up.”

  He studied her for a moment before saying softly, “And so are you.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t bother to deny the obvious. She would never deny how much she loved and missed her friend. “Laurel was the closest thing I ever had to a sister. I will never get over losing her. It would belittle our relationship if I did.”

  “Then you knew about her arrest record.”

  The unexpectedness of the words, which she was sure was planned, put her on edge, as did his tone. Something in his voice reminded her of how he’d sounded about her father having been a locksmith two decades ago.

  “Of course I knew.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it?”

  “I’d completely forgotten. And,” she said before he could speak, her voice rising a notch, “if you’re thinking about saying something about me forgetting something important again, like it’s a pattern, don’t.”

  He said nothing, just looked at her the way she imagined he stared down a hostile witness in a courtroom. Or an opposing attorney. So what chance did she have to withstand him?

  She was sliding beyond edgy into angry. “I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it even if I had remembered.”

  “Because?”

  She ticked reasons off on her fingers. She needed both hands. “It was twelve years ago. She was eighteen. In fact it was her eighteenth birthday, and her first time to drink alcohol. First and only time she ever broke a law. She didn’t have another drink until she was twenty-one, and never more than two. She didn’t have an accident. No one was hurt. She never got in trouble again. She was the textbook case of being scared straight.”

  Again he said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge her list. He just looked at her in that same unsettling way, as if she were that witness on the stand, and that irked her even more.

  “But mostly,” she added, her voice tight now, “I wouldn’t think to mention it because I don’t think that
way. I don’t waste my time dwelling on old, meaningless mistakes. She’s my—she was—my best friend.”

  “Even friends can betray you,” he said, and she had the oddest feeling that mind of his had gone somewhere else for a moment. Something about the suddenly distant look in those smoky eyes. But the words themselves sent her mind racing down an ugly path, as if he were accusing Laurel of something. And that, when she wasn’t here to defend herself, made Katie snap.

  “If all you do is look for lies, I’m not surprised you find them. Or what you think are lies, but are in truth honest mistakes or omissions. What an awful way to live.”

  For a moment his eyes closed. “Yes.” His eyes opened again, and she knew she wasn’t wrong about the pain there. As he went on, his voice was whispery, ragged. “It is.”

  Her anger evaporated as she stared at him. It was replaced by an aching empathy, because in that moment he reminded her of some trapped creature, helpless. She didn’t know what to say. Instinctively she knew this was a side of him he rarely let show. It would never do for the stellar defense attorney to show such weakness.

  Unless it was intentional, to lure someone in, so he could get what he wanted.

  And now he’s got you thinking like that, suspecting ulterior motives in everything.

  She heard the sound of rain hitting the window to her right. The promised storm had arrived. And just in time, she thought. Gavin must have heard it, too, because he turned toward the window. And the pain she’d seen vanished, disappearing behind what had to be a formidable wall.

  “Cutter,” he said suddenly, rising.

  “What about him?” she asked, also getting up.

  “He’s outside.”

  She blinked. “You mean outside here?”

  He was already headed for the door. Katie followed, pausing only to grab one of the towels she kept in the cupboard behind the information desk, in case of spills or damp kids dripping water on the floor.

  “Why is he with you?” she asked as they walked past the nonfiction section toward the door.

  “He seems to have...attached himself to me. I don’t know why.”

  He seems to know, somehow, who needs him most...

  Hayley’s words, when she’d been speaking of the dog’s visits to hospitals and nursing homes and a children’s shelter, came back to her now. Ordinarily she’d laugh at the idea of a man like this needing the help of a therapy dog.

  But she’d seen him just now, seen that look in his eyes. Maybe that was what the dog sensed, whatever had caused that pain.

  Cutter was tucked up neatly near the front door, patiently waiting in the shelter of the eave, and wasn’t wet yet. He jumped to his feet to greet her effusively, making her smile.

  “Did you move back there because you knew it was going to rain?” she said to the dog as she bent to stroke his head. Cutter nuzzled her hand, his tongue swiping over her fingers in a doggy kiss.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Gavin muttered. He looked at his car, as if measuring the distance to it in the downpour.

  Katie straightened, looked at the steady rain hitting the walkway inches away. She held out the towel, but Gavin shook his head.

  “You’ll both be wet by the time you get to your car,” she pointed out.

  “We’ll dry.”

  “You might not like how he dries himself,” she said, picturing a hearty shake with water spewing everywhere once the dog was in the car. “You can bring it back later. Or I’ll pick it up from Hayley.”

  There was a second’s hesitation, but then he reached out and took the towel. Then he said, “I’m not staying there.”

  “Oh? Who got tired of whom so fast?” she asked, teasingly.

  “Nobody.” Then, with a wry smile, he added, “But they would have. I’m...kind of a pain when I’m on something.”

  “I hadn’t noticed. Tell me,” she asked conversationally, “does that brain of yours ever shut down, or even slow down?”

  He grimaced. “Not really.”

  “How do you sleep?”

  “Not well.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  A man with two young children approached the library.

  “Hi, Miss Moore!” one of the kids called out, and she recognized him as the boy she’d steered onto a series of adventure stories about a boy around his age. He’d loved them, which to her was her job well-done. The town was too small to have a dedicated children’s librarian, so she worked to keep her hand in there with current stories along with the classics.

  “The new one’s here,” she said to him, and he lit up. “I set it aside for you.”

  The trio went inside. Katie hung back for a moment, giving Cutter a final pat.

  “Nice,” Gavin said. In an entirely different tone than he’d said it earlier.

  “It’s my job, and I love it.”

  “It shows.” He gestured with the towel before tucking it inside his jacket; the rain was getting heavier now, and they were getting splashed with the bounce. “I’ll likely be grateful for this. I’ll get it back to you.”

  “When you can,” she said, and watched the man and dog bolt for the parking lot through the downpour. Water was flowing over the concrete walkway in sheets now, headed for the drain just outside the doors.

  And speaking of drains, she thought as she turned to go back inside, just being around that man was draining.

  But he’d be gone soon, hopefully after helping to remove that cloud of suspicion from over her father’s head.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d be relieved, or sad.

  Chapter 18

  Gavin fingered the damp towel as he sat and watched the man inside the business. He’d parked far enough back to be inconspicuous, and used the small pair of folding binoculars he’d brought from Foxworth. He’d wanted to see him in this environment, watch him interact without being aware of observation, which in itself tended to change people’s actions.

  He’d already noticed several things. One, Steven Moore had a comfortable smile and manner that appeared to put people at ease. Many of his customers—and there were several this Monday morning—smiled and greeted him like a friend. And those who came in looking around, obviously unfamiliar with the place, he called out to but didn’t swoop down on, letting them look at their leisure.

  He wondered if any of them had heard that he was a murder suspect. Perhaps they had, and didn’t believe it. Or maybe they thought it was a different Steven Moore; it was hardly an unusual name.

  Gavin especially paid attention when there were no customers inside, but Moore seemed to busy himself, sorting mail and checking the various machines. When he disappeared into the back, he always emerged with something, be it copy paper or a stack of mail. A few times he answered a phone on the counter, beside a large scale for weighing packages, and smiled then as if the person speaking was in the room with him.

  All in all, it was a fairly busy place on this Monday. If being a murder suspect was weighing on him, it didn’t show.

  For a while Gavin sat chewing on that largest piece of the puzzle—motive. Hopefully he would get an idea at his meeting with the detective this afternoon. They must have something. Or maybe it really was just a Sherlock sort of stab, that they’d eliminated everything else as impossible and so were left with Moore.

  At a little before one, Moore walked to the front and reached for the open sign on the door. Gavin guessed it was one with a clock on the other side that would show a “back at” time, and that he was going to set it for a lunch break.

  He had time, he calculated quickly. His appointment with the detective wasn’t until two, and his GPS had said it would be a half-hour drive at most. He slid out of the car, tossed a “Wait here” back at Cutter, who this time seemed content to stay in the car. He reached the door just as Mo
ore was ready to drop the sign back down with the indication he’d be open again at one thirty. Moore pulled the door open despite the sign and, Gavin noted, before he even looked at him.

  “Come on in, we’ll get you handled—” He’d looked at him now, recognized him. “Mr. de Marco.”

  Gavin nodded toward the sign. “Short lunch break.”

  “I’m eating here. Katie made me lunch for today. I usually just go next door.”

  Gavin had noticed the pizza place earlier.

  Moore backed up and held the door open. There was a tiny bit of tightness in his smile, but Gavin had expected at least that; no one liked getting grilled, even if innocent. Or maybe he didn’t like the lunchtime interruption.

  “I’ll leave the sign down, shall I?” Moore said as Gavin stepped inside.

  “Nice place.” He didn’t comment on the subtle question of how long this would take, but noted the man had the presence of mind to not ask outright.

  “I like it.”

  “Profitable?”

  “Some months better than others. I’m not getting rich, but I don’t hate coming to work every day, and that’s worth a lot.”

  He could not, Gavin thought, agree more. Foxworth had given him that, and he valued it above any amount of fame or fortune.

  “Your daughter told me about it. That you’re very kind to people, carrying them sometimes, and making personal deliveries if there are special circumstances.”

  The man shrugged, but looked pleased. “I just try to be a good guy,” he said. Then, meeting Gavin’s gaze steadily, he added, “And of course, Katie wants to paint me in the best light, given why you’re here.”

  Gavin smiled. He liked the guy. And that made things a bit difficult, because even though he wanted to take him at face value, his job here was to find the truth. And the truth might not be on the surface. When he got involved, it rarely was.