Chapter 8 #2
When I got home, I tried to scribble down what she’d said while the details remained fresh in my mind.
By the time I had two pages of notes, I had to hurry and load my car.
Of course, with a late start, I hit annoying traffic, too, but I reached the vendor parking for the craft fair with fifteen minutes left to get set up. Good enough.
I exchanged greetings with a few familiar faces, but didn’t stop to chat. For once, I wasn’t invested in displaying my carvings in the most effective way. I erected the stands for my pendants, ornaments, and wind chimes haphazardly, and strung a random assortment on the hooks.
Over and over, I found myself glancing at my watch, glaring at the sluggish movement of the hands. I wanted to see Dustin. I wanted to hear what he’d discovered, but even more, I wanted his voice, his wolf scent, his intense brown eyes, his strong hands.
Despite doing a steady business that became brisk in the last hour, I began packing my stall on the dot of seven and was on the road ten minutes later.
When I got home and located a parking spot, I left most of my wares in the car hidden under old tarps, grabbed my money box and a case of the most time-consuming pendants, and jogged to my building.
Mr. Turner pulled me aside in the lobby to ask how my investigation was going in tones that might’ve been meant to be hushed but echoed off the walls.
I murmured, “Shh, let’s keep our voices low.
I know you understand the need for secrecy, given your background.
” He nodded eagerly, though I had no idea what his background actually was.
He frequently came out with the catch phrase, “Given my background, I should be in charge.” I’d never bothered to ask.
“I’ll keep you in the loop,” I lied as I nudged him through the inner door. “And let you know as soon as we have any facts. It’s all just hypothetical so far.”
Once I’d disentangled myself from Turner, I jogged up three flights, down the hall, and let myself into my apartment.
There, I breathed deeply, warmth settling into me. Home. The familiar scents of my space were overlaid with Dustin’s presence, and a savory aroma that suggested some kind of beef stew.
Dustin turned to greet me from the kitchen. “Hey, you. Dinner’s not quite ready. I didn’t expect you back till eight-thirty.”
“I hurried.”
“For me?” He grinned.
“Maybe for the lowdown on what you discovered at the library.” I set my boxes aside and went to him. “Also maybe for you.”
Dustin reeled me close, one big hand gripping my biceps, and kissed me.
As I wrapped my arms around him, I realized I’d never had this as an adult— the simple comfort of a hug and kiss at the end of a day from someone I trusted.
I kissed him back, then peered over his shoulder. “What are you making?”
“Beef stroganoff. I bought sour cream and you have noodles, but the meat needs to cook a while longer.”
“I could get used to this. Dustin the homemaker.”
He laughed. “More often Dustin the home-wrecker, given what I do as a PI, but for you, I’ll make an effort. Tell me what Miss Kawashima said.”
“I’ll trade for what you found out.” I led the way to the living room and sat on the couch. I’d hoped he might sit next to me, but he chose the armchair so we could see each other’s faces. Probably smart, since if he’d been in reach, I’d have been tempted to do anything but talk.
I went through Mina’s story for him.
“That fits,” Dustin said. “The buildings in these five blocks are all, bar one, owned by one of two men. Harvey Rosswurn, who owns this among others, and Greg Quentin. They’ve been buying property along here for years, whether as general speculation or because they saw this coming, I don’t know.
Quentin has his fingers in a lot of pies, and I didn’t have time to figure out where his wealth comes from.
Rosswurn married an heiress, and he speculates with her money. ”
“Nice work if you can get it,” I commented.
“Yeah. She’s worth millions. So is he by now, I guess, although a lot of it’s tied up in real estate.
I found the tax assessments for some of the buildings.
Most are valued between three and five hundred thousand.
So if they’re going to charge the city a million apiece, that’s a tidy one hundred percent profit per building, even if the mayor’s getting a cut. ”
I whistled softly. “That’s a lot of money in play.”
“Tell me about it. Underwood on the planning commission seems to be small potatoes, single, quiet life, no obvious handles. I did a fast run at the mayor’s background.
Typical politician, right-wing small-government eat-the-poor variety.
Married, two teen kids, lives in a fancy house in the Vickston neighborhood.
There are no doubt skeletons in his closet— show me a fat cat pol who has none— but his opponent last election was a pretty savvy operator, and if they couldn’t dredge up anything damning, I’m not likely to in a few days. ”
“Why would you want something damning? Isn’t this scheme bad enough?”
“If we can prove it, sure. But I always like a little extra leverage.” Dustin gave me an evil grin. “Sometimes the way to keep a man from doing something bad is to catch him doing something else bad.”
“Okaaay.” That seemed more complicated than necessary, but I wasn’t the Fixer or the private eye.
“The next thing is to get hard evidence of this scheme if we can. I want to see those maps and documents.”
“Me too, but we can’t break into the mayor’s office to look at them.” I hesitated as Dustin’s evil grin got wider. “Can we?”
“I have many useful skills.”
Like burglary? I was reminded how wolf morality ran separately from human laws. Trying to do my part, I suggested, “Mina must have keys, at least to her outer office. Would that help?”
“I never turn down a key.” Dustin nodded. “Why don’t you call Miss Mina and see if we can swing by tonight to borrow the office keys, while I finish off the stroganoff?”
Which was how, instead of another exciting round in bed like I’d been dreaming of all afternoon, ten p.m. found me at Mina’s door. She answered dressed to go out in a minidress and boots, her long black hair held back by a flowered headband.
“Here.” Mina passed me a key ring. “This one will get you into the outer office, this is the conference room, this little one is my filing cabinet, but I know they didn’t put the plans in there. I don’t have keys for the mayor’s personal office.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I told her, putting my faith in Dustin.
“If I’m not home, slip the keys back through the mail slot when you’re done.” She peered toward the curb where Dustin sat in his car. “You be careful, okay?”
“Always am,” I quipped. Then I headed down the walk to join Dustin, so he and I could go burgle the mayor.