Chapter Three #2
Lexi smiled when she pictured through some French doors the backyard covered patio, resort-style swimming pool, outdoor pizza oven, and barbecue charcoal grill and smoker.
It was everything she’d hoped to have in a property, though dampened by the thought of possibly never having anyone to share it with again.
She stepped into the kitchen and took a can of real beef wet dog food out of the cabinet, opened it and put it into a dog bowl she set on the floor for Pepper, who wasted no time in devouring it.
Lexi chuckled before going to the fridge and removing a salad container with yesterday’s leftovers from lunch, to go with green tea.
As she washed her hands in the granite double-bowl sink, Lexi couldn’t help but think about the tragic death of Horace Eckhart. She found herself even more thoughtful regarding the special agent looking into it, Cooper Reid.
THE DARK GRAY SUV passed by the home of Lexi De La Garza, after sitting just outside it for several long minutes.
The two men inside it had followed her there from the architect’s studio, as instructed, to keep a close eye on her from a safe distance when called upon to do so.
For the driver, if he had his way, he’d like to do more than simply surveil the nice-looking architect.
He suspected his partner beside him felt the same way.
But neither were paid to act on their own impulses, at risk of messing up a good thing with their generous employer.
At least not yet. There would be time later to see what Lexi De La Garza was made of when no one else was around.
For now, it was best to leave well enough alone and allow his imagination to run wild in thinking lasciviously about the widow.
He continued driving down East Camelback Road as his thoughts turned to the murder of Horace Eckhart that they had executed to perfection. They had discarded Eckhart’s BMW M8 Gran Coupe, though tempted to hang on to the expensive ride.
But they did the smart thing and got away scot-free after putting Eckhart out of his misery, while being well compensated for taking his life.
He wondered if their services would be called upon again in that respect. Eckhart was likely in good company in how the building inspector chose to do business. If so, they were more than ready to fulfill the mission and get paid for it accordingly.
As the two men in the vehicle continued putting distance between themselves and the pretty architect, the driver sucked in a deep breath, then grabbed his cell phone from his leather jacket and called their employer with an update on the likes of Lexi De La Garza.
COOPER WAS STILL thinking about the gorgeous architect he’d interviewed a couple of hours ago as he sat on a wooden chair at a back table in the low-lit Beauben’s Bar on East Van Buren Street, while awaiting the arrival of his CI, Neal Zapponi.
Cooper wondered what else there was to know about Lexi De La Garza, apart from being a much too young widow—and an obvious success in the world of architecture who didn’t need to engage in bribery schemes with a building inspector to make things happen that she could be proud of.
He wondered if she was seeing anyone these days.
Given what she brought to the table, in terms of appearance and talent, that seemed to be more likely than not.
So maybe he shouldn’t get his hopes up that she was available.
Or had an appetite for dating an FBI agent widower.
He looked up as his confidential human source approached the table. Neal Zapponi was forty-five, over six feet tall and strongly built, with a dark blonde pompadour haircut and a circle beard.
“Hey,” Cooper said evenly.
“Hey.” Zapponi gazed down at him with gray eyes. He glanced about warily and warned, “Can’t stay long…”
“Neither can I,” Cooper told him candidly, contemplating how Zapponi—a residential and commercial construction contractor—had himself been solicited by Horace Eckhart for money, while also witnessing the senior building inspector collecting bribes from an unnamed source in the form of bags of cold, hard, untraceable cash that were left for Eckhart at different construction sites.
Zapponi had reported this to the Bureau and agreed to work as a CI to see if he could provide more intel.
Cooper proffered a long arm at a chair and told Zapponi, “Sit.” Once he did so, Cooper offered to buy the contractor a drink, while abstaining himself, settling for a glass of water.
Zapponi agreed and was soon staring at a mug of beer before him. He took a sip and said unevenly, “So, I heard about Horace Eckhart.”
“I expected you would have, without it needing to come from me,” Cooper said, pausing. “Eckhart’s death came at an inopportune time in our investigation.”
“I suppose it did.” Zapponi lifted the mug. “Do you think it had something to do with his taking money under the table from developers or others?”
Cooper peered at his CI. “I was going to ask you the same. Have you seen or heard anything?”
Zapponi scratched his beard. “Only that everyone was shocked to hear that Horace had been killed. It’s not the type of thing you expect to hear every day about someone you’ve worked with—even if he was crooked.”
“Yeah.” Cooper tasted his water musingly. “Eckhart’s death may or may not have anything to do with his taking bribes. That’s still being investigated. But either way, my guess is that whoever has been paying Eckhart off for preferential favors may be looking for someone else to take his place.”
Zapponi drank beer. “I could see that happening,” he muttered, ill at ease.