Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

everything but suicide bombers at the White House.”
    He disconnected before Hansen could say just how much he loved him, and why. Then Sam shook his head to send away the last cobwebs of sleep, spotted a half full mug of old coffee, and slugged it down while he punched in the number of the Miami office and asked for Special Agent Mecklin.
    “Special Agent Sam Groves,” he said when Mecklin picked up the phone. “Following up my request for an interview with the—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I did it,” Mecklin interrupted. “File’s right on my desk.”
    “And?”
    “The kid—Bruce Conner, twenty-two, Caucasian, nothing but aspeeding ticket on his record—has worked at SoupOr Shrimp for five years. Big favorite with the regulars. Boss loves him. Maybe a little too much. Did I mention it’s a gay hangout?”
    “No.”
    “Well, it is.”
    “Last time I checked, that wasn’t a federal crime. What else?”
    “Bruce remembers Lee Mandel. They weren’t on a first-name basis, much less asshole buddies, but Bruce remembers the good tippers. He always gave the guy some extra doggie bags. Mandel didn’t say what they were for and Bruce didn’t ask. Like I said, the guy tipped good.”
    Sam settled back to listen. He didn’t know SA Mecklin, but it was obvious he had conducted a real interview rather than blowing off Sam’s request.
    “So, has Lee been back to the place since, say, December?” Sam asked.
    “Nope. Bruce is worried about that. Wonders if he somehow pissed the guy off.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Mandel left without waiting for his meal to arrive and never came back. He even left the doggie bags behind.”
    Sam almost purred at the familiar jolt of adrenaline that came as he sensed pieces of a case falling into place. “Was that the same day he was supposed to turn in his rental car at the airport?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So Bruce is the last one to see Lee?”
    “Yeah. But like I said, the kid is clean.”
    “How did he react to being questioned by the FBI?” Sam asked.
    “He wasn’t nervous, if that’s what you mean. He met my eyes, didn’t fidget, was curious about why I was there but accepted the standard explanation.”
    “Background check?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay. Thanks.”
    “Wait,” Mecklin said quickly. “Have you reopened the Mandel case?”
    “No,” Sam lied.
    “Then what’s all this about?”
    “Just asking questions that should have been asked five months ago.”

Chapter 29
    Scottsdale
    Friday
    7:45 A.M .
    Sharon rolled over in bed, caught sight of the radio alarm clock, and swore. She’d have to move like a racehorse to be on time for her father’s morning pep talk to his security crew.
    I knew we should have gone to my room last night. Peyton can’t set an alarm clock without his secretary to cheer him on.
    Peyton gave off sleepy noises and burrowed deeper into the blankets.
    Sharon gave him an impatient shake. Sometimes she felt like a juggler with all the little boys she had to keep dumb and smiling, thinking they were running everything just fine.
    “Mmph” was all Peyton had to say.
    “You told me you had an eight o’clock breakfast with a dealer,” Sharon said, getting out of bed. “It’s seven forty-five.”
    “Can’t be,” he mumbled. “I set it for six-thirty.”
    She dragged the radio alarm clock to the full extent of its cord. “Read it and weep.”
    She dropped the clock near him and started pulling on clothes, grateful that they hadn’t gone out last night. If she’d strolled in late for a meeting dressed for yesterday’s cocktail hour, her father wouldhave the coronary his doctor kept warning him about and Sizemore kept brushing off.
    Only the good die young. Now get me a frigging beer.
    There were times Sharon thought of having someone make a T-shirt emblazoned with those words. It would be worth it, just to see her father’s tomato-red face. The early meetings were a load of crap, but God help anyone who didn’t show up to listen to Sizemore’s words of wisdom.
    Thanks to her late start, she only had enough time to brush her teeth, sleek down her hair, and run for the elevator. Two other people were waiting. She nodded politely at them and kept the unstated social distance away.
    Her cell phone rang just as the elevator arrived. She looked at the window, sighed, and opened the connection.
    “Hello, Sonny,” she said in a low voice. “What’s gone wrong now?”
    “Dad just finished chewing me up one side and down the