Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery)

blinked on her answering machine. Carlos. Silvestri. A hang up. Silvestri. Oops, annoyed. But he couldn’t know she and Smith had been at the crime scene. He’s just pissed I didn’t come straight home, she assured herself. But she knew better.
    After a hot shower and a short work out at her barre, she should have gone to bed, but she needed something more soothing. She took a chocolate croissant from the freezer and with trepidation, microwaved it. Heaven in less than two minutes. Maybe there was something to be said for these modern apparati after all.
    She fell asleep trying to remember the name of the man who had claimed to be her uncle. What was it? And what difference would it make if she did remember? He would never have used his real name. What had Bill gotten himself into? And was she in this mess because of him?
    It was not a smooth ride. The driver—his name was Dantey, one of Jason’s bodyguards—kept his foot on the gas, then took it off, on, off. He’d been watching her in the rearview mirror, but he couldn’t see what she was doing. Which didn’t mean that he stopped trying.
    She’d spent the whole trip sorting the papers, pulling the important ones and padding with blank sheets. Sweat under her chin, the back of her neck, running down her sides. She slipped her arms out of the mink and finished the job, snapped the attaché closed. The papers she’d pulled, an inch thick, she tucked under the back waistband of her pantihose. Cold against her bare skin. Her coat would cover the slight bulk. Dantey was paying more attention to her than the road.
    A siren sounded and a New Jersey state trooper came up behind them and signaled for Dantey to pull over. Dantey let off a string of curses, but he pulled over. She rolled down her window. Snow drifted in. When had it started?
    “ ... driving erratically,” the trooper said.
    She rolled up her window. The trooper was checking Dantey’s license and the limo registration. Jesus, he was checking to see if Dantey was drunk. They’d never get out of here. She adjusted the bulk of papers in her hose. Then rolled down the window again, ready to come to Dantey’s aid. But Dantey was saying something about sciatica and the trooper was nodding. Another minute and Dantey was back in the limo and they were on their way.
    “Where are we? What’s taking so long?”
    “Another three or four miles,” he said. “Fucking trooper.”
    Snow was giving an icy coating to the road.
    “Teterboro,” the driver said, coming to a stop.
    As she gathered her things, the car door was yanked open. Natalie stood there in a fury, her sable coat flecked with dry flakes of snow. “Where have you been? We’ve been standing around waiting—give me those.” Her eyes were mad. She reached into the limo, grabbed the two attachés. “Stay where you are,” she said. “Don’t think you’re going with us.” Screaming in high decibels, she ran to the plane. “I have them, I have them! Let’s get going!”
    Jason, his big, black cashmere coat draped over his shoulders like an old time movie star, was standing near the plane looking beyond her, where another car—a gray Mercedes—had appeared. Coming down the steps of the plane was Laura Lee, wearing dark glasses and a hat pulled down over her eyes. Her head made a slight movement toward Leslie, then she grimaced. The plan they’d made, to escape in the limo, was in trouble.
    “Get on,” Jason called to Natalie. “We’ll be there in a minute and we can get out of here.” He waved to Leslie. “You too, Mary Lou.”
    You too, Mary Lou. Sing it. Why is he calling me Mary Lou, Leslie thought, but it was a dream and she knew she was Mary Lou.
    “No!” Natalie screamed. “She’s not coming!”
    “Get on the plane, Mary Lou,” Jason said. “It’s about time you got here.” Jason wasn’t speaking to her, but to a man who’d come up behind her.
    She turned around. The man was handing Jason a black box of some sort. He focused on her face. His body jerked. “Mary Lou? What the hell is this?”
    Oh, my God, Bill, her mind shrieked. It was Bill Veeder standing in front of her. What was he doing here?
    “You know each other?” Jason looked at Bill, then at her. Jason controlled. He didn’t like surprises.
    Wetzon backed away. Two men came toward them from the Mercedes. They were carrying guns.
    Bill looked at them, looked back at the plane, yelled something, tore the coat from Jason’s shoulders and before he