Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [155]
“Whose husband dumped her for Marquise?” Even better.
“Bingo.”
Henderson’s old chair squeaked as he leaned forward, riffling through the files on his desk, flipping through the pages, trying to find some kind of information on Tanya Inman. “Check them out, too.”
“Will do. But here’s the really interesting one,” Hannah said, a teasing smile on her pale lips. “A black late-model Blazer was recently purchased by one Renee Warner.”
“Warner?” That sounded familiar. He turned to the information they’d collected on the victim.
“Mmm. Renee Nielsen’s maiden name. Seems she decided to take it back a few months ago, then went out and bought herself a two-year-old Blazer. Apparently found one in the paper, contacted the guy, and paid him with a cashier’s check. Just registered through DMV six weeks ago, listed her address as an apartment on the north end of town.”
Henderson couldn’t believe this sudden turn in luck. He was already on his feet, snapping his briefcase closed. “And?”
“And nothing. I already checked it out. Furnished, but for the most part empty. The place hasn’t been lived in for weeks. It was, as they say, clean as a whistle. None of the neighbors had ever seen anyone fitting Ms. Nielsen’s description.”
“So where was she living?” Some of his excitement ebbed.
“Don’t know yet.”
“Think she’s connected somehow to Walker?”
“Seems unlikely, as he’s the one who came up with the ID.”
“He didn’t have much choice. We would’ve found out anyway.”
“Give up on him, would ya? Just because he threatened his ex-wife, who owed him some money, and now a woman who worked for him is dead, doesn’t mean that he’s guilty of anything other than having poor taste in women and being an easy mark.”
“Ya think?” He reached for the baseball, but left it in its holder. The heating system rumbled, blowing air and stirring up dust.
“I do.”
“So how is Renee Warner Nielsen connected to all this?”
Hannah winked at him. “I’m working on that one. Between the bank where she got the cashier’s check, the previous address and references she gave the landlord, and information on the insurance on the vehicle, we might just come up with something.”
“If we’re lucky,” Henderson said, reaching into his top drawer for a stick of gum.
“Come on, Reed,” she said tossing her hair back and laughing. “The day you believe in luck is the day I give up coffee.”
With a soft bump, the jet touched down at Denver International Airport, and Becca grabbed her backpack from under the seat in front of her. She’d listened to her CDs for the two-hour flight, eaten the stale peanuts, and downed a 7UP, all the while trying not to get into a conversation with the plump fiftyish woman next to her. Her name was Gladys and she would tell anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest about the birth of her first grandchild—like it was the biggest event since the last Rolling Stones tour, which, unfortunately, she’d managed to attend. To listen to her you’d begin to believe that Mick Jagger was the greatest singer to ever grace a stage. Obviously Gladys had never seen Beck on MTV.
Not that she really cared. Becca had more important things on her mind, but she kept them to herself and even refrained from rolling her eyes when the old lady made some joke about throwing a bra onto the stage at Keith Richards’s feet. Sheesh. Old people! Head cases!
Besides, Becca’s guilt was eating at her and she didn’t give a rip about the baby or the Stones. She was already feeling like a sneak, a thief and an ingrate, but it was all too bad. Once she hooked up with her mother again, everything would work out.
If Marquise is okay.
“She has to be,” Becca said as the plane taxied along the runway and she saw the distinctive illuminated peaks of the roof over the main terminal.
“Who has to be?” Gladys asked, smiling and showing off teeth that had been filled with gold. She was touching up her lipstick, trying to keep a steady hand as she squinted into a tiny mirror on her compact while the plane’s engines wound