License to Thrill

the chair out of the way and lurched to his feet. "What brings you here?"
    James nodded a greeting. "I was wondering if the lab reports are back on the coffee the security guards at Jellico's were drinking."
    Tenner stretched out the gum with the tip of his tongue and squinted. James knew the tests had come back, but the detective was deliberating whether to tell him.
    "You and I are on the same side, Detective," James assured him.
    "Is that so?" the man asked, cocking his head. "Well, I think you've got a thing for that McKray woman."
    James pursed his lips. "Which doesn't make her any more or less guilty, does it?"
    "No," Tenner agreed, still dubious.
    "The results have to be made available before the grand jury meets—what harm could it do to let me in on it? I'd like to keep my client in England informed of the progress on the case."
    Tenner blew a bubble, then sucked it back into his mouth. "Over-the-counter sleeping pills in the coffee. Funny—they're the same brand as the ones we found in your girlfriend's nightstand."
    His reference to their relationship rankled James, but he didn't react. "Which is still circumstantial," James pointed out. "What else did you find to warrant making such a mess?"
    The detective grunted. "The coat, hat, and shoes."
    James shrugged. "But you expected to, correct?"
    "Yep, but we didn't plan on finding a piece of the gallery's missing jewelry."
    The last bit of news startled James. "Jewelry, did you say?"
    "Yep—a ring."
    "Where?"
    Tenner shook his head smugly. "I think I'll keep that one to myself."
    James's pulse jumped and he experienced a twinge of doubt. Was it possible Kat had taken the jewelry? She had seemed very concerned about passing the polygraph. "Have you been following up on other suspects?"
    Crossing his arms, the overweight detective frowned. "And what other suspects would that be, Agent Donovan?"
    James held up the plastic bag. "I have possible evidence from Katherine McKray's flat indicating at least two people were inside."
    Tenner's bushy eyebrows knitted. "I thought we gave her place a pretty good going-over."
    They had, and James resisted the urge to shake him for it. "These two cups were in the dishwasher and Ms. McKray insists she didn't use them. Did you or your men happen to?"
    "No."
    "Then someone else was in her apartment long enough to enjoy a cup of coffee. I suspect her friend Denise Womack had a guest over, although she denied it. Perhaps you'd better have her fingerprinted to check against these cups."
    "We know how to do our job here, Agent," Tenner said as he reached for the bag.
    James removed a pen from an inside jacket pocket. "Unfortunately, you'll find Ms. McKray's prints on them, and the fellow at the front who's keeping my weapon until I leave. Will you please keep me informed?" He scratched his cell phone number on a piece of paper. "And I’m staying at the—"
    "Flagiron Hotel, room twelve forty-five." The man grinned widely, showing coffee-stained teeth. "Like I said, we know how to do our job, Agent."

    *****

    Kat set the framed picture of her father on the bookshelf and rubbed her thumb over his face until tears blurred her focus. She sniffed hard and went back to her task of restoring order to the living room. Her body throbbed from exhaustion and some other distant ache that worsened when she thought of Agent James Donovan.
    She ought to be in bed, regaining her strength in preparation for the week ahead, which, unless someone stepped forward and confessed to the crime, promised to deteriorate even further. But if she kept her hands busy, she wouldn't dwell on the upheaval in her life. The land line phone rang a dozen times, and each time she hoped it was James calling. But she resisted and allowed it to roll over to her answering machine.
    Several reporters called. Andy Wharton left a message saying he hoped she'd be back to work soon—how were they going to host the open house next week without her? Despite her predicament, Kat felt anxious about the success of Jellico's annual open house—old habits and loyalties, however misplaced, were hard to break.
    Guy also called, to let Kat know he'd received her message that she'd received his message. Kat bounced a cushion off the wall as he talked. Dammit, the little bastard always had to have the last word.
    Denise called twice, and Kat almost picked up to talk to her friend, but she remembered James's earlier warning about not discussing the coffee cups until he had performed