Chapter 5
“If you come for the wolf, prepare to be eaten.” ~Unknown.
Axel
Shit. I can’t tell if she’s lying, but with Brittany Babcock, anything is possible. I wave the disheveled diva to the kitchen counter barstool so I can study her face.
“Did you call the police?”
“No, it’d blow my cover.” The blond’s scornful tone causes my wife to scowl and step closer.
Once she pulls her brown hair into a messy ponytail, she stands by my side and crosses her arms. “Interpol does not run operations. They engage local law enforcement. So, who is it you're working for?”
“No one.” Glancing at her red nails, the unwanted intruder shrugs.
“The CIA? Tell us, dammit.” My spouse, patience frayed, inches her nose closer until it almost touches the other’s.
“I can’t say. You don’t have the clearance.” Her dissing Gwen goes too far, and I’m tired of playing games.
Grabbing my cell, I wield my index finger over the digits. “Well, you can’t not report her death, nor can I. I could lose my job. Where'd you find the body, and I'll phone it in.”
“Excuse me?” She stands, opens my fucking refrigerator, and grabs my last beer. “FYI, my handler took care of those details. If you try to call it in, there won’t be any sign of the murder.”
Rubbing my hand across my short beard, I curse under my breath. “What kind of shit show are you running on us?”
She twists off the top, chugs, and wipes her mouth with a flick of her wrist. “Calm down. The FBI wants Ledbetter. I was about to hand him to you on a platter until she ruined everything.”
Gwen grimaces at the attack and makes coffee. “If you’re undercover, why have a roommate? Was she your partner?”
“No. Her name is… was Joanne Cormack, and she was a nobody.” For the first time, Babcock appears contrite.
I smell a lie. Her story does not ring true. “So, why the hell would someone kill her?”
“She wore my clothes. Whoever murdered her probably thought she was me. We have similar builds and viewed from the back, could be easily confused.”
She’s hiding something. “I don’t want you here.”
“Listen, this is your wife’s fault. I can’t go back to my hotel.” Her eyes hold defiance and a trace of something far more dangerous, but I won’t be intimidated.
“Not my problem, call your handler, and go.” When I open the door, the wind blows in salty air.
Shrugging, she plops down on a kitchen chair. “Sorry, he’s not picking up.”
As I’m about to drop her ass on the wet sidewalk, Gwen touches my arm. “Babe? With me?”
Her chin motions toward the bedroom, and I follow her down the hall.
Once we’re out of the other woman’s earshot, she whispers, “Perhaps we should let her stay.”
“You don’t know her like I do.” My hands cup her cheeks, and as I study her enormous brown eyes, I try to make her understand.
Brows raised, she mimics my moves, holding my face. “Wasn’t it Sun Tzu who said, ‘Keep your friends close and-’”
“‘Your enemies closer’. You would’ve made an excellent FBI agent.” Turning my head, I kiss her hand and envision what my life would be like without her. “Even so, you should not have tailed me this evening.”
“I’m so sorry, wolfman. She was so damn… arrgh. I couldn’t help myself. What if Farid had burst into our home in the middle of the night and insisted that I accompany him? Would you have let me go?”
“Hell no, he’s dead. Which would mean he’s a zombie.” My attempt at humor causes her to harrumph.
“Stop prevaricating. You know what I meant.” She only dips into her vast vocabulary when she’s genuinely pissed.
“Babe, I hear what you’re saying. I’d never have let you out the door.” I’ve not seen her jealous side before and am unsure how to react. Does she want me to get rid of the witch or allow her to stay? “Do you have your RF weapon handy?”
Biting her lower lip, she reaches beside the bedstand and nods. “Now, I do.”
“Stay alert and keep her here, for God's sake. I’m going to make a few calls.” If Babcock is telling the truth, she’ll be a person of interest in her roommate’s murder.
As I find Special Agent Scott Hunter’s contact number, she kisses me. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.” After she leaves, I ring the most trusted member of my team and pace alongside the bed. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry for the late hour, but I have a situation here.”
“Yup. Give me a sec.” Sheets rustle in the background, bare feet pad against a hardwood floor, and fingers clack on a keyboard. “Ready. What’s up?”
“Brittany Babcock.”
The young agent lets out a litany of curses, then sighs. “What has the crazy bitch gone and done now?”
I download my evening from the moment she knocked on my door.
He types for a bit. “Well, part of her story rings true. The locals did find a dead body in the restroom at a bar north of the beach on US Rte. 1… Hold on… a place called the Tiki Beach Tavern.”
My heart races, and I shudder as if someone walked over my grave. “Fuck. That’s where Brittany and I went to meet Danbury. Does it say anything about the victim? The time of death?”
“Not yet.” The young Fed sighs. “Sorry.”
“Maybe Deputy Director Trescher can volunteer our services to help solve the murder.” Unlike my boss, Kaplan, I have an excellent relationship with his direct superior.
“Your funeral.” He knows our by-the-book supervisor would never agree to an unsanctioned operation, so I don’t bother explaining.
“Can’t be helped. Call Trever, Rhonda, and Ink and have them here by morning. Reserve a suite. Give them my credit card.” Outside the bedroom window, heat lightning flashes between the clouds while thunder rumbles.
“Consider it done. Anything else?” The eagerness in his voice makes me smile.
Like me, he lives for the hunt. “Ask Trev to do a deep dive on Britt. That’s it.”
“Copy that. See ya in the A.M.”
After calling in some favors, I walk into the living room where Gwen aims her phone at our visitor. “Was your roommate murdered?”
Brittany scowls. “I already told you, yes.”
My scientist holds up the green response, indicating the truth. “And are you the prime suspect?”
“Right now, I am.” This too, is not a lie.
“Why?”
“Because the woman was not only my roommate but my lesbian lover.”
Holy shit, I did not see this one coming on my honeymoon-murder-bingo card.
“Okee dokee, guess I’m going to bed.” Gwen glares at me and raises her brows as if to say, ‘This is your mess. Deal with it.’