Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

Clinton Kenneally and Liz Nguyen."
    Eckhoff shook their hands. He held on to Liz's hand a little longer than necessary and gave her a brilliant smile, which she returned. Hmm. Eckhoff said, "Call me Jon."
    Liz said, "Hi, Jon." And smiled again. I looked at Clinton; he gave me a tiny nod, a knowing look on his face.
    Eckhoff was apparently going to make the most of this opportunity. "So you all are librarians too?"
    Liz said, "I am." Clinton said, "I am merely a patron."
    Eckhoff nodded. He was still smiling at Liz. I could nearly see the sparks shooting between them. "Are you a history specialist too?"
    "No, my specialty is political science."
    "Ah. Interesting." Eckhoff gave Liz that brilliant smile again. He really was an attractive guy. "I'd like to hear more about that."
    Liz tilted her head and kept smiling. "Well, after your appointment with Jamie, come next door to my office. I can tell you all about it."
    "I will definitely do that." Eckhoff grinned at Liz one more time, then turned to me. Reluctantly, I thought. "Are you ready?"
    It was five minutes before three. "Yeah. Let's go." I led him upstairs to my office. When we got there, I unlocked the door for him and gestured for him to go in before me. He stepped in and looked around. "This is nice. A lot better than what I have for an office."
    "Yeah, if yours is anything like the detective's room at West LA, I sympathize."
    He laughed. "Yeah, it's a lot like that." He turned to me. "So, your friend Liz, is she single?"
    I grinned at him. "Yes, she is."
    Eckhoff grinned back. "Well, maybe she won't stay single for long."
    I laughed. "Go for it, dude."
    "Oh, I'm gonna do that." He rubbed his hands together and got serious. “Okay. I’ve been getting to know your brother Kevin a lot better. Belardo and I talked to Jennifer again, and she denied knowing Brashier. Kevin and I also talked to Brashier again, and he denied knowing Jennifer. But the ballistics from the bullets that killed Michael Lindsey, the guy on Brashier’s property, matched the bullets that killed Wallace. We got a warrant to search Brashier’s property, but nothing turned up. We still think he’s our guy, but he might have hired someone to do the dirty work.”
    “Holy shit. So the cases are definitely connected.”
    “Yep. But we’re still not sure how. Okay, let's gather everyone, and we can talk about what's gonna happen with this phone call."
    I called Conrad. Gillian was waiting in his office, and the two of them came right up. I ushered them into the office and closed the door. I asked Eckhoff, "If the caller wants names, do I give them?"
    "You can give Dr. Huffstetler's name; they can look online to confirm that. Don't give mine...use the last name of Williams, like we did before."
    Then the phone rang.
    I clicked the speaker feature first, then answered. "Brodie."
    "We need to meet." It was the same voice, the young-sounding woman.
    "Yes, with our authentication expert."
    "Who's that?"
    "Our special collections librarian. His name is Conrad Huffstetler."
    "How do I know that's the truth?"
    "You can look on UCLA library's website. His name, picture and job title are there."
    "They'd better be."
    "They are." I crossed my fingers and said, "The donor's representative is insisting on coming to the meeting as well."
    "No. Only the two of you."
    "That won't work. Sorry. It's the donor's money. She won't agree to anything unless her rep sees the item."
    There was a pause. It sounded like the caller had clamped her hand over the phone and was talking to someone; I could hear a vague murmur in the background. Then she was back. "Okay. Three of you. But that's it."
    "Right. That's it."
    "What's this representative's name?"
    "Jonathan Williams. He was with me the day I visited the antique book shops. If you have a contact in one of them, your contact can describe him. Then you'll know it's the same person."
    Another pause. Then, "Okay. We meet tomorrow night, 11 pm, behind the West Hollywood Park tennis courts. You know where that is?"
    "On San Vicente." I'd played tennis there with a previous boyfriend a few times.
    "Right. Don't be late. And no cops."
    "Of course. No cops." I rolled my eyes at Eckhoff and he grinned.
    "Fine." The woman hung up.
    I clicked off. Gillian was wide-eyed. "Just like the movies."
    "Probably not." Eckhoff stood up and opened the door. It was getting warm in the office. "These people sound like amateurs. That 'no cops' line is something they've heard on TV." He