As odd as it might sound, the comfortable feeling I’d experienced when I’d first entered the church intensified the more I got to know Pipes. From the little we’d talked, I sensed that she and I were a lot alike. I maybe hide my anger better than she does, at least from everyone except Kate, Casey, and Megan, but I think our personalities and belief systems are basically the same.

  I blew out a breath, dispelling some of the tension that had crept in as she’d blown off steam. I took a moment to look around. All the walls were empty of framed pictures and instead were mostly covered in brightly colored bubble graffiti. It made me sad to think that the ghosts of that preacher and his congregation had to see the vandalism that had taken place over the years.

  Pushing to my feet, I slowly walked around the room, inspecting the rough-hewn woodwork of the pews and running my hand over the cracked plaster on the walls. I stopped to put my finger over an empty nail hole and tried to visualize the picture that might have hung there. I glanced over my shoulder when I heard Pipes walking toward me.

  She came and stood next to me, raising her chin to indicate my finger over the nail hole. “I’ll tell you a story about the picture that hung there, but…” Her voice was calmer than before, and she sounded a bit sheepish when she offered up an apology. “I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. Sorry.”

  “No worries. I feel like that a lot of the time.” I shrugged, “My sarge has to rein me in, sometimes, too. Just like that soldier who worked for you, I guess.”

  “Only I think you have a lot more common sense than he did.”

  “Maybe.” I lowered my hand. “So, what do you know about the picture that was here?”

  She glanced down at her boots and ran her hand over the scarf covering her head. “I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but I came to this church when I was a kid.” She looked up to gauge my reaction.

  I’m pretty used to people telling me things they think will bother me and I nodded to let her know I wanted her to continue.

  “My aunt would pick me up from my house, and we’d come here to worship….” She smiled slightly at that, “…well, she’d worship, and I’d annoy the hell out of her by playing with a toy I’d smuggled in or by playing looky-loo games with other kids my age. We were so bored, me and the other kids, but it was important to her that I got a religious education because my parents weren’t the least bit interested in religion. She’s the one who hung that swing for me when I was a little girl.”

  “In a cemetery?”

  She shrugged, “She told me she knew a lot of the people buried here, and their ghosts were just as nice as the people were when they were still alive.”

  “Where’s your aunt now?”

  She ignored the question and pointed to the nail hole. “There was a picture of a white Jesus sitting on a bench looking up adoringly at his white mother. At least, I assumed it was supposed to be his mother. I guess it could have been the hooker he hung around with.” She thought a moment. “I can’t remember her name. Anyway, neither of them looked like me, so I never bought into all that stuff.” She shrugged, “Later, I came to realize that the real Jesus and his momma looked more like me than like the guy in the picture. Go figure.”

  “So, are you religious now?”

  She scoffed, “Not hardly.”

  “And yet you’ve returned to live in the church of your childhood. I think Freud would have something to say about that.”

  She cocked her head and put her finger to her chin in a mock salute to philosophers and psychologists who’ve tried throughout millennia to make sense of our lives. “Religion is an illusion, and it derives its strength from the fact that it falls in with our instinctual desires.”

  My response was particularly brilliant. “Huh?”

  “Freud said that. He didn’t think much of religion. But I think he was wrong on that point. At least he was in my case. For me, I’d say, ‘Religion is an illusion, and I derive my strength from the fact that it falls in with my delusional desires.’” She reached up to pet Sage, who had moved to the familiarity of her shoulder.

  Slightly bewildered, I scrunched up my nose. “Okay. Let’s pretend I have no clue what you’re talking about, and that you need to break that last idea down into simple terms I can understand.” I grinned at her. “Not that I’m not completely on board with what you’re saying, mind you.”

  Pipes snorted and flashed me that quirky grin of hers. “Well, I think that if Freud had run into me here, he’d have said that in my delusions, I pretend I’ve returned to that church, you know, the one filled with those happy kids and the aunts and parents whose biggest concern at the time was making sure us kids behaved…and that I find some strength…some grounding, if you will, in those memories.”

  She realized I was staring at her, and she shook off her musings. “Ha. You got me philosophizing. That doesn’t happen much anymore.”

  I’d been staring at her, not because she’d lost me, but because she was this super well-educated woman living in a dilapidated, abandoned church. She reminded me of another very intelligent, homeless woman I’d met a few years earlier. The woman had held a Ph.D. in literature from the University of Berkley but had been diagnosed with schizophrenia during her tenure there. Anya had ended up dying on the streets, and as I studied Pipes, I hoped that wouldn’t be her fate as well. A shiver of premonition ran through me and to quash the feeling, I gave the aunt another try. “So, what happened to your aunt?”

  Sage adjusted her balance with a slight lifting of her wings when Pipes shrugged and headed for the front of the church. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m gonna lay down for a while. Grinning at me over her shoulder, she said, “I think you can find your way out? C’mon, Sage.” With Sage balancing on her shoulder, Pipes disappeared into the back room and quietly shut the door behind her.

  “Huh.” Interesting. One thing I’d learned from being a cop, I couldn’t save the world, and I definitely couldn’t save people who didn’t want to be saved. I pulled my card case and a pen out of my pants pocket. My cards only had my desk phone number on them because I didn’t like people thinking I was their private cop they could call at all hours of the day or night.

  I decided to make an exception in this case and wrote my cell number on the back. Then I shoved the card under the door. “If you hear anything that might help with these cases, give me a call.”

  When Pipes didn’t answer, I followed her advice and led Peanut out into the bright Arizona sunshine. I smiled when my phone dinged. Pipes had sent me a text that read, “Me.” I rarely put witness or suspect numbers in my contact list. I wrote their info in my notes and then transferred the information to my reports. Once the case was over, they were relegated to my past and I moved onto the next case.

  I started to pull out my notepad and then changed my mind. I opened the contacts form on my phone and, since she’d never given me her full name, I entered her under the single word, “Pipes.”

  Chapter 14

  It was three o’clock by the time I returned to my car. My phone rang as I was telling Peanut to hop in the back. I recognized Gia’s ringtone, which was the Winnie the Pooh theme song. I’d discovered the tone a while back and put it on her contact mainly because it killed two birds with one stone. It not only pissed off both Gia and Kate, but it brought out the dimple in Gabe’s cheek.

  Gabe is Gia’s majordomo. He’s built like a lineman, smart as a whip, and one hundred percent loyal to his boss. I’d tried on a few occasions to get him to step toward center, but when it came to Gia’s protection, there was no room for compromise. That was something I completely understood and appreciated, but there were times when a little bit of information about the way the “family” worked would have gone a long way towards taking care of business on my end.

  I hit send and then put the call on speaker. “Hi. Whatsup?” I slid in behind the wheel, pulled my door shut, and set my phone on the center console.

  Gia’s deep, sensual voice always brought her beautiful face to mind. “I have a meeting with the mayor in thirty minutes but before that, I’ll be waiting for you in the Tahoe on the top floor of the Centro garage.”

  “I’m way across town and won’t be able to make it in time.” I waited for her response. “Gia?” I glanced at my phone and saw she’d disconnected. Growling, I hit redial and got her answering machine. “First of all, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t drop everything and come running when you call like most of the drooling sycophants who hang on your every word. Second, I’m too far away to meet you there before your meeting with…” I put all the sarcasm I could muster behind my words, “…his honor the mayor. So why don’t you go have your meeting and maybe I can stop by your place after work?”

  I ended the call and purposefully drove in the opposite direction from the garage. Nothing irritated me more than when Gia treated me like one of her lackeys instead of a friend. The Winnie the Pooh theme song started up again and I ignored it. If she could let my call go to voice mail I could sure return the favor. The song stopped and Gabe’s Tigger giggle ringtone started up.

  I hit send. “What?”

  “Ms. A needs to talk.”

  “No shit. I got that. Why can’t Ms. A ask like a normal person?”

  “Cuz she ain’t one.”

  Gabe had a way of making me smile with his witty one liners. He didn’t mean them to be witty, of course, but his laconic delivery was superb.

  “Ms. A says we’ll meet you halfway. Name it.”

  I stayed quiet while I counted to ten.

  “Alex.” A hint of amusement colored Gia’s voice when she came on the line. “I have some information I think you’re going to want to hear. As I’ve told you before, I don’t give out information over the phone. Would you tell me where we can meet to talk?”

  I told myself that was a request and not the order she meant it to be. “I’m too far away. You’ll be late for your meeting with the mayor.”

  “He can wait.”

  Sighing, I pulled a U-turn and headed toward downtown. “Fine. Meet me in the south parking lot of Reid Park.”

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into a relatively empty lot. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. Add to that the fact that we were here in the middle of the week, and I hadn’t expected to find many other people around. Although the park, with its fields of lush green grass surrounding a good-sized pond would attract visitors later in the day, right now, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

  Gabe got out of the driver’s seat and stood next to the rear passenger door. I always enjoy seeing him, mostly because he’s a handsome man, tall with a broad chest that fills out his tailored pin-striped suits to perfection. As with most Italians, his wavy hair is jet black and professionally cut, and although he’s perfected the slightly bored expression of most bodyguards, he’s always laser-focused on his surroundings.

  I grabbed Peanut and headed over.

  He motioned to the little dog trotting obediently at my heels. “Ms. A don’t like dogs in the limo.”

  I shrugged, “Then Ms. A shouldn’t have invited me over while Peanut’s with me.”

  When I was a few feet away, he hesitated before pulling open the door and waiting for me to get in.

  “Thanks, Big Guy.”

  Gabe is the big silent type who communicates more with his facial expressions than any man I know. He rolled his eyes slightly as I motioned to Peanut with a flick of my hand. “Get in, girl.”

  Peanut obligingly hopped in and then immediately climbed up next to Gia, whose brows were slightly crinkled as she stared down at my new partner. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a dog.”

  Gia, who’d never had a dog in her home until her great-niece had moved in with her mutt stared into Peanut’s bulging eyes. “I can see that.”

  I slid into the rear-facing seat. Most SUVs don’t have a comfortable leather seat facing the back, but Gia had ordered this vehicle specifically modified to her needs after a rival mafia family had ambushed her on her way to a meeting. I’d like to say the vehicle was one of a kind, but she has three others just like it. Well, except that each one is its own unique color—dark green, white, silver, and this one, which is sapphire black. I call it sapphire black because it looks black until you get up real close and stare at your reflection. Then, for some reason, you see tiny blue flecks scattered throughout the paint.

  Seeing the tell-tale signs of irritation in Gia’s jawline, I decided I’d pushed her enough that day and patted the seat next to me. “Peanut. Come.”

  Peanut gave Gia one last glance and then happily bounded to my seat, completely bypassing the floor on the way over.

  Without missing a beat, Gia asked, “Glenlivet?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m still on duty. You don’t have a diet Coke, do you?”

  “Of course.” Gianina Angelino is grace personified. She’s a beautifully elegant woman in her early fifties with thick black hair styled by a woman she flies in from New York twice a month for the occasion. I admired her delicate, blue-tipped French manicure as she gracefully pushed a few buttons on a control panel and I was suitably impressed when a compartment opened up beneath my seat. A tray swung out and up, and to my amazement, it held a glass of ice and a bottle of ice-cold diet coke.

  I’d only been in her car a couple of times, and I’d never seen this particular amenity. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. How come we can’t get this in our detective cars?” I poured the soda over the ice and watched it foam to the rim. “Nice nails, by the way. How do you get polish that matches that single little stripe in your high heels?” I didn’t see a blouse beneath her double-breasted white blazer, but the gem hanging between her breasts had just a hint of color. “Wow, it matches your pendant, too. Pretty classy. What is that? A sapphire?”

  Giving me one of her patented Gia looks—benevolent irritation combined with a touch of amusement—she shook her head. “It’s not polite to comment on another woman’s clothing choices, Alex. But thank you just the same.” She tapped again, and another tray swung out from beneath her seat with a snifter and a bottle of her favorite whiskey, Glenlivet twenty-five, or XXV as it says on the label.

  I’d looked it up once, thinking I’d buy her some as a gesture of friendship, but then discovered each bottle ran around three thousand a pop. Needless to say, I settled for something more in line with my detective’s salary.

  “The gemstone is a blue diamond, by the way. Not a sapphire.” Holding out her snifter, she waited for me to pick up my glass and gently tap it against hers. When I did, her smiling eyes held mine. “Sláinte.”

  “Cheers.” We both took a sip, and while the Coke tasted fine, I eyed her whiskey with a clear case of “I wish I was off-duty” envy.

  “I assume this is one of the dogs from the federal program? The one the FBI hopes will raise your detecting abilities to a new level of expertise?”

  I wasn’t surprised she knew about the dogs. Gia knows everything about anything, often even before our chief has tumbled to the information. I nodded, “Yup. Peanut. She’s helped out a couple of times, but I’ve only had her a few days.” I patted the pup’s glossy head and then looked across the aisle, as it were, at Gia. “You said something about having some info for me? About what?”

  Before answering, she held the glass up to the light and studied the color of the whiskey while languidly swirling it around the wide bottom Glencairn glass. Satisfied by what she saw, she took a delicate sip and then rested the glass on her thigh. Obviously slowing down the pace of our meeting. she said, “Most people engage in polite conversation before getting down to business.”

  “Foreplay? I thought you had a date with the mayor.”

  She chuckled, “Foreplay? That’s a bit crude, don’t you think?”

  I glanced down, blushing. “I guess so, sorry. It’s just what we call it when we’re interviewing someone and need to ease into things.”

  Shaking her head slightly, she watched me with an amused glint in her eyes. “You are one of a kind, Alex.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. Mostly from Kate.”

  After gently swirling the whiskey another time, she set it on the tray and finally started in on the reason she wanted to see me. “I understand you’ve been assigned to the elementary school cases where children are somehow coming into contact with Scopolamine.”

  I nodded slowly and studied her face. I didn’t know how Gia made her money, didn’t want to know, really, but I was absolutely certain it wouldn’t involve doping little kids. That being said, I hoped to hell she wasn’t going to say something now that would burst my bubble and probably end our friendship.

  She correctly interpreted my look, took a slim cigar from a jeweled case, and casually lit the end. “We’ve never spoken of my business enterprises, Alex, but you should know we don’t have anything to do with illicit drugs. We don’t import them. We don’t sell them.”

  Again, I slowly nodded. Anything I could think to say sounded either insulting or condescending, so I stayed quiet.

  She turned her head slightly and blew out a thin line of smoke.

  To my amazement, it was immediately sucked into a hidden vent I hadn’t noticed before. “Does that automatically filter the air?”

  Looking slightly confused, she glanced toward where I pointed, and then her face cleared. “Oh, that. Yes, I suppose it does. I don’t pay much attention to the little amenities Gabe had installed. I don’t waste my time on such things.”

  “As long as things work like they’re supposed to, you’re happy.”

  She lowered her chin as she looked at me a long moment. “Let’s just say Gabe is very careful to make sure everything works the way it should so that I don’t notice little inconveniences, such as smoke drifting about the compartment of the vehicle I’m traveling in.”

  “Nice.”

  She nodded and then pulled the conversation back to the issue at hand. “As I said, I have nothing to do with illicit drugs. I do, however, receive information from time to time.”