Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) by L.B. Gregg Page B

missing until now. I really would rather certain people not find out.”
    Yeah, like half the U.S. Navy on leave. I felt like sitting down. “I would think not.”
    “You can understand that some people might think differently about me.” She gave me a small, embarrassed smile, and I knew she was terrified. “Some people wouldn’t want…uh…that to get out, you know?”
    I decided to tell her everything. The bust, Peter, Shep, Mallory, Justin Timberlake and the Circus of Despair…it all flew out of my mouth in great detail.
    “Oh, Ce. We’re all being harassed…for what? Peanuts.”
    “I wouldn’t call it peanuts.” We stared at the envelope. “I guess I should open it.”
    It wasn’t sealed. The flap was simply tucked inside. I slid out a badly printed photo—someone’s printer needed ink. It was Justin Timberlake, with one ear. The watch where his right nipple had been was gone. That was probably still on the sink upstairs.
    “Oh! He still looks great.” Rachel beamed. “That man is so talented. I just love him.” I didn’t know whether she was referring to JT or Jean Luc.
    I flipped the picture over and on the back was a dollar amount. It read: Five thousand dollars. I choked.
    “Holy shit. Good luck getting that kinda cash. Are you sure this is for you? Maybe it was for Jean or Peter.”
    “No. It was on the truck. Damn it. Why me?” I wasn’t being a martyr. I honestly had no clue why I was getting hit up for that kind of cash and not someone else.
    I schlepped into my office to think.

    Dan sauntered in at one with his motorcycle boots and his black leather jacket. He had a paper sack in one hand and a tray holding two coffees from Starbucks in the other. He brought the scent of gum and sunshine with him.
    “I thought you were following me.”
    “Not anymore. Remember?” He smiled at my tone.
    “Hmph. Who are you following?”
    “On this case? I’m weighing my options. I spent the morning on the computer checking your orange friend.”
    I snatched the bag out of his hand. Inside were two cheese-cherry Danishes, and my stomach did a backflip with joy. “Oh. These are just perfect. Do I have to share?”
    “I figured you had a sweet tooth.” He handed me a coffee.
    “Why? Does it show?” I asked cheekily. His gaze swept down my body. He took his time, smirking over some smart-aleck comment, no doubt. I turned around and headed for the kitchen. I felt him watching me. “So tell me, master detective, why you didn’t ask me about that envelope last night.”
    “Figure it out, Romano. C’mon. I know that you can.”
    I took my coffee from the tray and added two and a half sugars. “You…opened my mail.”
    He nodded. “Of course. It wasn’t sealed. But I didn’t know what the hell it meant until you started babbling.”
    He sipped from his cup. I tried not to make a face. He was drinking coffee unsweetened . “Did you tell Mallory it isn’t me?”
    “Well, she’s convinced that either Peter Stuhlmann is trying to discredit her or Posh Nosh is blackmailing her.” Not quite on the mark. Each time he lifted his cup, I got another look at his left hand. Stripes of white were neatly lined across the backs of his knuckles. Like he’d been lashed or whipped. He saw me staring but didn’t offer any explanation. Instead, he pushed through the swinging door with his coffee and the treat. “Okay, Romano, show me around this taco stand. Let’s see what we can come up with.”
    I gave him the nickel tour while I inhaled my Danish. I tried not to be a pig about it, but I probably had crumbs on my nose. Dan checked the men’s room where I’d found Shep, he looked at the watch, he peeked in the trash. He didn’t say much, just sipped his coffee.
    I unlocked Peter’s office.
    “Why’s there a condom on the floor?”
    I got a bit defensive. “It’s not in my job description to pick up Peter’s leavings.”
    “All righty then. But are you sure it’s Peter’s? If it’s Shep’s,