Chapter Seven #2
Cooper told them, since they offered this without need for a search warrant, “I’ll take you up on sending us the records of construction projects that, at any stage, were signed off on by Eckhart.
” Let’s see if they measure up to the info provided by Gretchen Blanchett on Eckhart’s assignments, Cooper told himself.
“That should clear up any lingering thoughts about your involvement in public corruption,” he added, mainly for their benefit.
“Fine,” Reese said laconically. “As I’ve indicated, we have nothing to hide or try to protect—apart from our reputation.”
Cooper nodded and, after standing, played on that last word in stating keenly, “For most honest companies, that alone is everything.”
“Exactly,” she maintained in an unshakable tone.
After leaving the office, believing that they had made a convincing case for their innocence, Cooper met with Frank in the lobby, and asked him, “Did you find out anything?”
Frank shook his head. “Not really. From what I gathered, everyone seemed to be fully committed to doing what they did—without stepping over the line in the process. What about you?”
Cooper told him the same, more or less. “Reese Kenniston and the project manager, Terry Morikawa, gave no hint of anything improper that went on between them and Eckhart. They claim they have the records to prove this.”
“Did you buy it?”
“Yeah, I think they’re probably on the level,” Cooper answered pensively.
“But, as they say, the proof will be in the pudding, once we check out their records and see if they line up with our own. Until then, we can assume that someone else was bribing Horace Eckhart to get what they wanted out of him as a building inspector—and may have been willing to kill to keep the cat from getting out of the bag.”
THAT AFTERNOON, LEXI WAS running on a treadmill at Jameson’s Gym on West Indian School Road. Working out next to her was her friend and fellow architect, Pamela Rennick. With both being into fitness, it also gave them time from their busy lives to hang out together.
“I’m excited about the eco-friendly town house complex in Scottsdale that I’m fortunate enough to be a small part of in designing for Wolftyn Senmoore Developments,” Pamela remarked as she jogged on the treadmill, while wearing a pink quarter-zip exercise knit dress and white running shoes.
“Who knows if any of my designs will make the final cut—but a girl from New York can always hope, right?”
“Absolutely, you can!” Lexi wanted to boost her friend’s confidence—which sometimes seemed to lag—in using her skills for the development project in the city that was a suburb of Phoenix in Maricopa County. “You’ve got this,” she told Pamela, going even further to instill confidence.
Pamela smiled at her. “You think?”
“Of course,” Lexi doubled down on this. “You can do whatever you set your mind to, Pam,” she said for short. “Including this project. Wolftyn Senmoore will see that. You’re amazing!”
“So are you,” Pamela said sweetly. “And thanks for the show of support.”
“Ditto.” Lexi grinned with sincerity as they picked up the pace in playfully trying to outdo the other.
After a moment or two, Pamela asked, “I wonder if they’re any closer to making an arrest in the murder of that building inspector?”
“Not sure,” Lexi admitted, as Cooper hadn’t shared much information with her on how the case was going.
Nor did she feel there was any need to, per se.
The fact that they were spending time together didn’t give her any special entitlement where it concerned his work for the FBI.
On the other hand, as she had met Horace Eckhart and sought his advice along the way on the overall approval of projects where he was the building inspector, Lexi did feel somewhat of a kinship there.
As such, she did really want to see his killer—or killers—brought to justice.
Pamela sighed. “Well, hopefully wherever this goes, it was an isolated incident and won’t get in the way of our work as architects for developers, who only want to build great things in Maricopa County.”
“My sentiments precisely,” Lexi told her thoughtfully.
She considered mentioning her involvement with Cooper, but didn’t want to jinx it.
Especially since he had yet to accept the dinner invitation that she was planning to offer him.
But later, if things went well, she could imagine them getting together with Pamela and whomever she was dating at the time for drinks.
WHEN HE GOT the call from Lexi inviting him over to her place for dinner, Cooper readily accepted. Why wouldn’t he want to share a nice meal with a beautiful woman? Particularly one who had captured his attention from the start.
He arrived at the Spanish residence on East Camelback Road right on time at six o’clock.
It wasn’t his style to be fashionably late like some preferred.
On the contrary, if he’d had his way, he might have come a bit earlier, in case Lexi needed his assistance with anything in the meal preparation and such.
After parking in the driveway and exiting his car, Cooper’s gaze shifted to the Pueblo Revival home next door.
He saw Eleanor Palakiko, his widow support group friend, sitting in a chair by the window.
She looked his way and waved, a big smile on her face, as though already privy to his spending time with Lexi.
He waved back, grinning, and thought smartly, I owe you, Eleanor, for allowing Lexi to take your place at the meeting—and giving us a chance to get to know each other better—leading to tonight’s dinner date.
Cooper hoped that the three of them might get together sometime—either at the support group gathering or elsewhere—and talk about their shared tragedies and triumphs in learning how to carry on.
He turned his attention to Lexi’s architecturally charming house—adorned with holiday decorations—imagining the interior would be just as remarkable.
Stepping onto the porch, the door, which had an artificial Christmas wreath, opened just as Cooper was about to ring the bell. He grinned as Lexi stood there.
“Hi.” She flashed her straight white teeth. “You made it.”
“Hey,” Cooper told her, grinning back, while giving her the once-over in a cream-colored cotton shirtdress and brown slingback clogs. Her long hair was loose. “You look nice,” he had to say in pure sincerity.
“Thank you.” Lexi blushed. “So do you.”
“Thanks.” Cooper downplayed the compliment, even if he had gone out of his way to make a halfway decent impression on her by wearing a tan wool jacket over a gray polo shirt, charcoal wool gabardine pants, and black leather oxford shoes.
He lifted up a bottle. “I brought wine—red, if that’s all right? ”
“It’s perfect—I love red wine,” she told him, taking the bottle from him.
They went inside, and Cooper needed only one glance to see what a successful architect’s home was made of. “Impressive,” he said in awe.
“Glad you think so.” A modest smile played on Lexi’s face. “I’ll be happy to show you around.”
“I’d like that.” He gazed at her decorated Christmas tree and felt compelled to say, “Nice tree.”
“Thanks,” she said, gazing at it. “I love this time of year.”
I wish I could be as enthusiastic in decorating my house, now that I’m there all alone these days, Cooper told himself sadly. He responded evenly, “Same here.”
They watched as a Yorkshire terrier seemed to come out of nowhere and ran across the engineered hardwood flooring toward Cooper. “This is Pepper,” she said.
“Hey there, Pepper.” Cooper gazed at the small dog who was sizing him up as well. After sniffing his pants leg to familiarize himself with Cooper, Pepper seemed satisfied for now and scurried off.
Lexi giggled. “I think he likes you.”
“Good to know.” Cooper grinned. “I like your dog, too.”
“Well, I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved, actually,” he responded, his nostrils taking in the food’s scent. “Smells great.”
“Thanks.” She eyed him. “Do you like Puerto Rican food?”
“Absolutely,” Cooper replied in haste, while being up for pretty much anything.
“That’s good,” she said, smiling. “Okay, the meal’s ready to serve. Make yourself at home while I lay everything out.”
Cooper regarded her. “I can help…”
Lexi nodded. “You can pour the wine you brought—follow me.”
Cooper trailed her through the arched opening into the gourmet kitchen and was told which of the glass-door cabinets the wine goblets were in.
He took out two and, after opening the wine, half filled the glasses.
Wanting to do more, he carried the plates and silverware to the dining room’s rectangular umber trestle dining table.
Soon they were sitting in exposed wood armchairs and eating pollo guisado: chicken stew, tostones: fried plantains, arroz con gandules: rice and pigeon peas, and pan sobao: a soft, chewy bread.
Lexi regarded Cooper and asked tentatively, “So, what do you think?”
He dabbed a napkin to the corner of his mouth and grinned. “It’s amazing—everything!”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he promised. “You can definitely cook—to go with your clear talents in architecture. But then, something tells me you’re great at everything you do.” Cooper hoped he wasn’t laying it on too thick, even if he truly believed this.