Chapter 9 #2
The Gables’ home was large enough to accommodate the crowd because it was really a mansion in the old-fashioned sense.
Dane was familiar with every nook and cranny from his previous case with the Gables and a jewel thief.
So he knew there was a large room above the garage where the theoretical chauffeur would stay.
He directed the officers where to go and told them to switch off on shifts however they wanted to handle it as long as someone was always on perimeter duty for the duration.
Dane was the last one inside and shut the door behind him.
The grand foyer was so grand the small army of people he’d brought to invade didn’t even half fill it.
Shana made introductions and the Gables looked like they were holding up well under the onslaught.
In fact, they were excited as hell, as Dane knew they would be.
“You have the dogs fed and ready for guard duty?” Dane stepped forward and shook Bill Gable’s hand then gave Laura Gable a hug because he knew he couldn’t escape it.
“We’re more than ready—all of us. Even if the perp knows you’re here, they’ll never get to you. I got Wilby locking down the gate.”
“Wilby is the butler-security guard,” Dane explained to the others. “What’s the code?”
Gable ran off a series of seven numbers and letters and Dane committed it to memory.
After a sufficient volume of pleasantries and appreciation were exchanged, Dane asked, “Do you mind if we set up shop in the kitchen?”
He didn’t know if Gable was surprised at Dane’s deference or the request for the kitchen.
“I assumed you’d use the library.”
“It’s too vulnerable at the front of the house.”
“I see.” Gable flashed a look at his wife, whose smile faltered for the briefest of time, but Shana put an arm around her and she shored up immediately.
Once the Gables left them alone, Acer set up his computer on the kitchen table.
The table was positioned in between the working part of the kitchen and the enormous family room with windows overlooking the ocean.
The entire space was open, clean—meaning no listening or surveillance devices, and could accommodate them all with no intimacy whatsoever.
In short, the exact opposite of the old beach shack.
The remembrance gave Dane a rare pang. He found Shana’s eyes.
From the look on her face, she might have been having the same pang. Either way, she came to sit beside him as they all took places around the table to brainstorm.
Acer looked at Peter, then Dane, and said, “Where shall I start?”
“Follow the money,” Dane said. He looked at Shana.
“We found a possible lead. Peter’s main opponent within the party in the Senate race clashes with him on one particular issue.”
“So we find out who’s supporting him on that issue and track them down,” Acer said.
“My opponent Victor Yannis? That’s a long shot. He’s pristine, according to Rick.”
“No offense, Governor, but as your Lieutenant Governor and former campaign manager, Rick Racer may be good at a lot of things, but doing a deep dive on someone’s background ain’t one of them,” Acer said.
“You’re wasting your time. We’re only in the primaries. I’m running against fellow party members at this point. There’s only one legitimate opponent and he’s not the sort to run a drone or make threats.” Peter sat next to Acer while Dane got up and went to the freezer, opening the door.
He expected there to be an ice-crusted bottle of tequila waiting for him, but he supposed that was asking for too much.
The Gables wouldn’t know of his habit of keeping a bottle—or his former habit.
When he had a real freezer in a real kitchen.
The trailer barely had a fridge, let alone a freezer.
He’d been drinking his tequila warm for a month now and he was getting damned tired of it.
Plus, he had no secret hiding place for his new stash of weapons.
He’d had to keep them in his Jeep in the wheel well.
And at Sassy’s Pie Shop. If he brought them inside here, it might get too real and Laura Gable could freak out.
Underneath his enthusiasm, Bill Gable was well aware of the danger.
Dane knew the man had been around the block before he became a successful movie producer.
In the meantime, he settled for a bottle of some fancy-ass microbrew and took a long sip before interrupting Peter and Acer’s discussion.
“It’s their supporters we’re looking at, not the candidates themselves.
And it’s not too soon to look at the other party.
” He knew Peter knew this. Likely he didn’t want to believe politics was this rotten because then he might need to reconsider his life’s ambition for the sake of the safety of his family.
Dane understood this without any words between them on the subject because he knew Peter best of all.
Maybe better than himself. And vice versa.
He was the man Dane went to for advice without asking, without having to ask.
Acer said, “Follow the money. Always. That’s where I’m going.”
Peter glanced at Dane. “Smart-ass.” The resigned note in his voice tugged at Dane.
“Whoever it is, we’ll find the bastard and put a stop to it before anything happens. Then you can have your family back. And campaign our ass off to win a damn seat in the senate. For whatever sick reason it is that you need to put yourself through that frustrating political shit, God bless you.”
As Acer tapped away at his keyboard, he said, “Amen.”
Peter smiled, looked weary. Dane went in the fridge, pulled out another bottle, and handed it to his friend. “It’s not tequila, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Acer stopped his fingers and looked up.
“You need to be sober to drive the keyboard, don’t you?” Dane handed a bottle to Shana.
“Hell, no. Do my best work half drunk. It releases the creative juices in me.”
Peter snorted. “You mean it releases the recklessness in you.”
“Same thing,” Dane said. He knew—they all knew—a little reckless abandon was called for on occasion.
“Hello, gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting.” They all glanced at the entryway to the kitchen where Mrs. Gable appeared with her husband. They ignored him because Laura Gable was a dish.
“Gentlemen? Where?” Dane said, giving her his peachy-best smile. “You know me and my crew better than that.” He went forward and gave their hostess another obligatory hug. Smirking at Gable, he said, “Where’s the tequila?”
“At the bar. I’ll get it for you.” He went into the adjoining family room to a wet bar and rummaged through some bottles hidden below.
“Let’s stow it in the freezer, if you don’t mind,” Dane said. “Could be a long night.”
Gable gave him an interested look—the usual—as if he were contemplating the best angle for the scene, the best direction for the story action.
He handed Dane the bottle of tequila. “Can I help?”
“I’ll let you know.” Dane knew better than to prick the man’s bubble of hope, but there was no way he would involve him more than he already was, having them stay with them. Not in any excursions at least.
“You could draw all the blinds on the windows overlooking the ocean.”
“And ruin the million-dollar views?” Mrs. Gable sounded like he’d suggested she shoot her puppy.
Acer said, “In case of snipers.”
Peter almost spit out the beer he’d been sipping. Dane shot Acer a look with a very slight shake of his head.
“You’re joking, right?” she said, not sounding amused or sure, her hand at her throat as if the sniper were going to come in and strangle her instead of shoot her.
“It’s a precaution. We don’t expect a sniper, but why take a chance? We’ll stay in the rooms that don’t overlook the ocean.” The kitchen was safe enough, removed from the windows by the length of the family room, but he breathed deeply when she went to the windows and started pulling blinds.
“Maybe we ought to stay in the basement,” Peter said. Dane couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking, not sure whether he’d accepted fully the predicament he was in. Denial was a powerful thing. He ought to know. He’d been in denial once. About Elena.
“Nah. We have the fed and the statie watching the perimeter. I mentioned they ought to keep an eye out for a sniper from the ocean side. They’re on it.”
He pictured the guest room where Shana had been resting, the windows exposed to the ocean view.
But he knew she would have closed the blinds.
She was smart. Still, it had taken a monumental effort not to go upstairs and check on her, as if she were a babe in danger.
Which she was, in a way. His babe, and therefore always in danger.
He looked at her now, smiled the kind of smile that meant a whole paragraph of steamy thoughts.
“About your position on prisons,” Shana said, drawing them back to the business at hand.
“I’m against privatization, and you’re right, my main opponent is oddly in favor. It’s
a puzzler that a fellow Democrat would be in favor of privatization.
It’s an important issue to me because it’s an area that Madeline has a lot of expertise and a strong position on and I trust her judgment.
She’d done lots of research on the topic and it was clear to me that private prisons are no good for anyone except the corporations that own them. ”
“What’s Victor’s justification?”
“I haven’t heard anything that makes sense except the usual competition is good for the economy and we need to shrink the government where we can and look at the post office.
I figured he must be getting support from someone who has a stake in privately run prisons.
But when I had Rick look into it he didn’t find anything. ”
“Where is Rick?”
“He’s back at the office running the show,” Peter said.
“As Lieutenant Governor or Campaign Manager?”
“He can only wear one hat, officially speaking. He has a former colleague managing the campaign.”
“We’ll need to talk to them both. When Joe gets back, he and I will visit.”
“You’ll be on trial. Will you have time?”
“The trial is only going to be half days. I’ll be done by 2 p.m. every day.”
“Kimble is going to let you do this?”
“Kimble doesn’t have a choice. Besides, you’re a witness for the defense and she won’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Shana’s phone buzzed and she excused herself to take the call. Dane tracked her with his eyes as she ventured toward the family room.
“Where’s Sassy?” he said.
“She went back for more things, if you can believe it,” Acer said.
Dane watched as Shana pulled the phone from her ear and walked back to the table, her eyes sparking, mouth grim and determined. He expected her to pop into her Wonder Woman pose any second. Instead, she dropped a bomb.
“I got a call from Sassy. She found an envelope at the trailer.”