Chapter 8



"Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Jernigan. I'm afraid we've had a rather disturbing morning," said Carlton Whittaker, president of Dade Savings and Loan. He dabbed at his forehead with his breast pocket handerchief as he ushered her down a hallway off the lobby.

"You remember Jonah Tompkins, senior vice president?" A tall, thin man stood as they entered Whittaker's office. His eyes darted nervously from Whittaker to Natalie.

"Of course. How are you?" asked Natalie.

Whittaker indicated an overstuffed chair in front of his enormous desk. Natalie dropped into it.

"Look, I know Jeff's in some kind of trouble. I've already had a run-in with the feds this morning so whatever you have to say can't be any more shocking."

Tompkins sucked in a breath. "We were hoping you could provide some answers. Jeff failed to meet his clients in Zurich and the authorities say there's no record of him even boarding his flight from Miami. Do you know where he is?"

Natalie glared at the man. "Trust me, if I knew where he was I'd be the first one asking questions! I've been threatened at gunpoint and treated like a common criminal today!"

Whittaker cleared his throat. "Was Jeff, uh, I don't know how to put this delicately, was he depressed about anything? Would he . . . "

"Would he kill himself?" Natalie finished for him. "Don't be ridiculous. But he may wish he was dead when I find him and get to the bottom of this shit!"

Whittaker recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "Now, now, you have to stay calm. We have to stay calm."

"I want to look in his office," said Natalie. She picked up her purse and stood.

"Wait, please!" said Whittaker. "There's something else." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "The FBI froze your accounts until their investigation is resolved."

"They what?" Natalie snatched up the paper and quickly read it. "Those bastards!"

"I'm sorry, Natalie. Truly I am," stammered Whittaker. "Jeff had such a bright future here at Dade. I can't imagine what's happened."

Natalie glared at the two men, then marched out of the office and around the corner to Jeff's office. Desk and file drawers stood open and the files were in disarray. His computer hard drive was missing and the phone was unplugged. The bamboo plant that normally sat on the credenza lay on the floor with dirt spilling out.

The final insult was the broken picture frame on the bookshelf. Natalie picked it up. A smiling vacation photo of the two of them looked back at her. She studied it for a moment. Twenty-four hours ago her life was normal. Now it seemed like a bad movie-of-the-week.


**

The Next Day

Natalie perched on the high stool beside her best friend Liza's jewelry kiosk in the mall.

"I really appreciate this, Nat," said Liza as she herded her snow-white poodle into his carrier. "Grover's way overdue for his haircut. Not to mention Katie keeps bugging me for new ballet slippers."

"Hey, no problem. What else do I have to do? My husband's vanished, my house is trashed, and my money's frozen. This is better than crying in my beer." Natalie blinked rapidly to ward off the tears.

Liza straightened and frowned. "You don't even like beer." She gave Natalie a reassuring hug. "Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry. Things will get better. You'll see."

Natalie wasn't so convinced. "Maybe. I know one thing, there'll be hell to pay when Jeff turns up."

"You go, girl," chuckled Liza. "That sounds more like my friend." Liza's smile faded and she shook her head. "Honestly, I just can't believe all of this is happening to you."

"Tell me about it." Natalie took a sip of her diet soda.

A cell phone chirped deep within Liza's bag. She pulled it out and checked the display. "Ballet class is over. Gotta go. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

"Go. I think I can sell jewelry for that long without having a nervous breakdown," said Natalie.

Liza hoisted the carrier as Grover growled. She started toward the exit with a wave.

Mall traffic was slow. Natalie half-heartedly worked a crossword puzzle. She smiled pleasantly whenever someone approached the kiosk, but nobody was in a buying mood. Maybe when Liza returned she'd wander over to the food court for an artery-clogging cheeseburger and fries and people-watch for a while. That way she could postpone thinking about the sorry state of her life.

An hour passed. Natalie sold a necklace and matching bracelet to an elderly woman. "My granddaughter is graduating from middle school," she beamed.

"How nice. I hope she'll enjoy these," Natalie said as she put them into a little box.

The woman moved off. Behind Natalie's back came the sound of two little girls chattering. She swiveled on the stool and her jaw dropped. Less than twenty feet away was Paolo. The girls apparently belonged to him.

He looked like he'd just come from work, minus his jacket and shoulder harness. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. She'd never pictured Paolo as a family man. A playboy with multiple girlfriends, yes. She didn't remember seeing a wedding band. Probably divorced. He was so arrogant and bossy who could tolerate living with him? The direction of Natalie's thoughts surprised her. She chalked it up to stress.

The little girls were twins, but not identical. The slightly taller one wore a pink tee shirt with a sequined flower design. Her ebony hair and blue eyes were an exact replica of Paolo's. The shorter one also had ebony hair, but her eyes were chocolate-brown. Her tee shirt matched her sister's except that it was purple.

"Look, a butterfly!" squealed the pink-shirted one. The girls bent their heads to examine the various necklaces, earrings, and bracelets.

Paolo strode up to the kiosk. Natalie scowled. "I'm still waiting for that update."

Paolo glanced at the girls to be sure they were occupied. "Nothing to report at the moment."

"Oh, nothing other than the fact that my accounts are frozen?" Natalie knew she should not draw him into an argument in front of his kids, but her frustration was at a breaking point.

"Don't take it personally. That's standard operating procedure. If you like, you can come by the office tomorrow to discuss any concerns."

"You couldn't have warned me yesterday?" Natalie demanded.

"I'm a cog in the machine. I take orders like everybody else."

"Damn," muttered Natalie.

The girls gasped and purple shirt piped up, "You said a bad word!" Then they giggled.

Paolo tried hard not to smirk as Natalie blushed. "Yes, I did. I'm sorry," she said to the girls.

Then to Paolo she added, "I didn't mean to offend your daughters."

More giggling from the girls. "They're my sister's kids," he said. "Sofia in the pink and Serena in the purple. Today's their birthday."

"We're eight years olds!" They vibrated with excitement.

"But I'm two minutes older," asserted Sofia.

Natalie couldn't hide her surprise. "You don't say."

"Can I try this one on?" asked Serena.

"Sure. That's one of my favorites," said Natalie. She slid off the stool to open the clasp of a dragonfly necklace.

Paolo let his eyes roam over Natalie. Today her short, brown hair was combed and she was clad in a mint-green sleeveless blouse, white capri pants, and sandals. She'd gained only a few pounds since high school and all of them in the right places. Her wedding rings were absent, but she wore small pearl earrings and a Cartier watch. That alone would have cost Jernigan a small fortune. Paolo wondered again why the fool would jeopardize his marriage to this beautiful woman.

Better not to think too much about Natalie as a woman, decided Paolo. That was getting into dangerous waters. He checked his watch. "Sofia, hurry up and decide on something. Your mom's expecting us back by six-thirty."

The girls made their selections of matching necklaces and earrings. Paolo handed his credit card to Natalie, their fingertips brushing. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Are you Uncle Paolo's girlfriend?" asked Sofia.

"No. Why would you think that?" Natalie was shocked by the question.

"He kept staring at you while we were eating ice cream a while ago," said Sofia.

"Yeah, and he even took a picture of you with his phone," added Serena.

Paolo frowned down at them. "I was checking messages from work."

Serena shook her head. "No way! It makes that funny noise when you take a picture."

"Nonna says he should find a nice girl and settle down. What does that mean?" asked Sofia, her face all innocent.

"It means . . . " Paolo's cell phone rang. He looked at the ID and groaned. Work. "It means I need to take you guys home now."

Natalie glared at him. "Saved by the cell."

Chapter 7

Tempelhof Airport - Berlin

Monika stood in the arrivals lounge as passengers began exiting the Air France flight from Zurich. Wave after wave of tourists, businessmen, and grandparents fanned out to be met by tour guides, colleagues, and eager family members. But no Gerhard. The flight crew emerged a few moments later and the cleaning staff pushed their carts down the jetway to began turnover of the plane.

This was puzzling. Monika opened her phone to punch in Gerhard's number. She sensed someone behind her. Before she could turn, a gun barrel was thrust into her side and a man dropped an arm around her shoulders.

His lips brushed the side of her neck. "Don't make a sound," he whispered. "You know I'll use this."

Monika willed herself to not panic. This was merely a glitch. She felt certain she could turn the situation to her advantage. "What do you want?"

The man tightened his grip and hustled her toward a hallway that said "Staff Only." At the end was a door marked "Supplies." He knew it was open because he'd left it so on his earlier reconnaissance. He kicked open the door and shoved Monika in. She stumbled over a pallet of toilet tissue, landing hard on her right shoulder. She winced in pain and grabbed her shoulder. It was dislocated.

"Wh . . . what do you want?" she asked again. Her face contorted in pain. The side of her face burned from contact with the rough concrete floor and blood was oozing from a scalp laceration.

The man laughed softly and pointed the silenced gun at her. "Did you think you could get rid of me so easily? After all, I'm the one with all the account numbers."

Think, Monika! It couldn't end like this. She'd worked too hard and was so close to having everything. Her leather bag had flown off her shoulder and landed behind some crates. She had no weapon. Tears sometimes worked on men, but she knew it would not phase this one. She would have to bargain.

Still holding her shoulder, she eased into a sitting position. "We'll eliminate Gerhard. He's a greedy bastard. It will just be the two of us. We can go anywhere, do anything."

The man laughed again. "Gerhard. He's already been eliminated. Now it's your turn. I wanted to see the look of terror on your perfect face before I pulled the trigger." He stepped closer.

"Jeff, wait!" Monika held up her left hand. "I have another account. Here in Berlin. Gerhard knew nothing about it. It was my insurance policy if anything went wrong. It's over half a million Euros. You can have all of it."

"Don't worry. I already have."

Monika paled. He could be bluffing. "Bitte, Jeff. It doesn't have to be like this," she pleaded.

"Berliner Sparkasse, the branch on Unter den Linden, across from the park." He recited the account number with a smug look on his face.

A fear unlike anything Monika had ever known gripped her. Another fake passport lay in a safe deposit box at the bank, but it was of no benefit to her now. She tried to take a deep breath, but pain racked her chest. Broken ribs, most likely.

"That's right, Monika. You should never screw a banker. At least where money is concerned." He fired one shot and Monika crumpled to the floor. He stuck the gun in the back waistband of his pants.

Jeff lifted her body and heaved it over into a trash dumpster that stood against the wall. He retrieved her purse from behind the crate of spray cleaners and searched it. Wallet, airline ticket, cell phone, lipstick, paperback novel. The usual stuff. He pocketed the cash and wiped the bag with a handerchief. His fingers ran across a bulge in the lining. He quickly ripped it out and discovered the fake passports. He stuffed the one in the name of Gary Franklin into his pocket. Good old Gerhard would not be needing this now.

He flung the purse into the dumpster. Then he shuffled some trash around to cover both the body and purse. Unfortunately, the bitch had bled a little on the floor. He grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner and dabbed at the spot with his handerchief.

Satisfied with his cleanup, he listened at the door. No sounds came from the hallway. He eased the door open and crossed to the janitor's bathroom opposite. He flushed the handerchief down the toilet.

**
Natalie finished talking to the CSI agents, but she knew they didn't believe her. Oh, they didn't come right out and say so, but their grim expressions and pointed looks gave them away. She returned to her car and sat there for a moment. Paolo had said to go home and he would be in touch. She didn't like the sound of that. Something was up.

Her cell phone rang. It was Jeff's boss from Dade Savings and Loan.

"Mrs. Jernigan, could you come in to the bank this morning?"

"I guess so. What's going on?"

"I'd rather not say on the phone. However, it is urgent."

Chapter 6

Tempelhof Airport - Berlin

Monika Sterne sipped a coffee as she scanned the front page of Der Spiegel. It had been much easier than she'd expected. The setup was perfect and the American had been easy to manipulate. Then he'd become - what did the Americans call it? Clingy. Yes, that was it. Wanting too much of her time and attention, not to mention her body.

But Gerhard would have taken care of that loose end by now. In fact, his flight from Zurich should be arriving at any moment. Then they would escape the dreary cold of winter and head to a more hospitable climate. Maybe the south of France or Santorini or even California. She'd been to the states many times. They could easily blend in. Many Americans were essentially rootless and moved around a lot.

She finished her coffee and picked up her oversized black leather handbag. Sewn into the lining were new passports in the names of Gary and Monika Franklin. It would be an adjustment. But had she not been doing that since she was fifteen?

**
"You need answers?" asked Natalie. "What about me? I'm the one whose husband is missing. I'm the one being harrassed and threatened at gunpoint!" Her hands were planted on her hips, a frown marring her perfect face. Her vee-necked pink tee shirt pulled taut across her breasts. Paolo's attention slipped for a moment before he remembered his duty.

"You're telling me you don't know what this stuff is?" He gestured to the contents of the storage unit.

"No clue." Natalie proceeded to tell him about Randall showing up with the key that morning. His face gave nothing away as he listened.

"Did Randall give you that gun?"

"No."

They stared at each other for a beat. "I'm waiting," said Paolo.

Natalie pursed her lips and sighed. "Okay. Mr. Trendel gave it to me."

"Trendel. Your neighbor who moved to Tampa."

"Right. On moving day he walked over and just gave it to me. Said his daughter wouldn't let him have it around the grandkids. That I could use it for protection when Jeff was traveling. I don't know where he got it or if it was registered or anything." Now that she'd started, Natalie seemed unable to stop.

"One time he told me he'd had some trouble with the law in his younger days. I never asked him about it. He always seemed like a nice old man, working in his rose garden. You know, he won prizes for those roses."

Paolo stared at her in amazement. "Dammit, Natalie. Did you ever think it might be stolen? Or maybe it's tied to some unsolved crime?"

"No, I didn't think much about it. I just threw it in the trunk and, well, kinda forgot about it."

"What if you'd been in a wreck and the cops found that? Can you imagine the kind of trouble you'd be in?"

"I wasn't thinking," said Natalie, folding her arms over her chest.

"No shit." Paolo thought of his buddy, Ernesto, a Miami-Dade homicide detective. Maybe he'd ask him to do some discreet snooping about Trendel and his gun. He glared at Natalie. He wanted to believe that she was an innocent in all this. A protective urge surged through him. In the past, he was always able to separate his personal feelings from the job. Now he had a strange sensation that the lines were about to become blurred.

"What's happened to you, Natalie? You used to be a nice girl in high school."

"I'm still a nice girl!" she insisted, voice rising. "Maybe I just made some bad choices." Maybe not only the gun, but Jeff, too, she thought.

"Your home has a security system. You should be fine with that."

"It didn't stop your people from getting in," she sneered.

"That's our job."

"Nevertheless, I think I would feel safer with a gun."

"Do you even know how to handle one?" Paolo asked.

Natalie curled her fingers and pointed her right index finger. "Point and shoot. Like my camera. How hard could it be?" she smiled.

Paolo blew out a frustrated breath. Then his cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Marco from headquarters. He stepped away and turned his back to Natalie as he answered. "Yeah?"

"Miami-Dade discovered the torched body of a man in the trunk of a rental car at the airport less than an hour ago. From the general description, it could be Jernigan. I'm headed there now."

"Okay. As soon as CSI shows up, I'll head out," said Paolo. He ended the call and snapped the phone shut. He made sure his "FBI mask" as his family called his blank look was firmly in place before he turned to face Natalie. Fortunately, the CSI van pulled up at that moment and two agents jumped out and began getting equipment out of the rear of the van.

"After you talk to these guys, I want you to go straight home and stay there."

"What's wrong? Was that call about Jeff? Did you find him?"

"There's been a development. I don't have any details yet. Maybe it's nothing."

"But . .

"But nothing." Paolo gripped her shoulders. "Do as I say. I'll be in touch later."

Paolo stalked away, got in his car and headed toward the airport. If the body was Jernigan, someone was trying to send a message. Natalie could be in danger. Keeping her safe was now as important as solving the case.

While stopped for a red light, Paolo flipped throught the directory of his cell phone. When he found the number he was searching for, he paused. This might come back to haunt him, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He punched in the number and waited throught six rings. Finally, a man with a voice like gravel answered.

"Hey, Louie. It's Paolo. I need to buy a gun."