A Stetson On Her Pillow. Molly Liholm
little desperate sounding.” Garrow straightened his tie.
“He’s desperate,” Clark interrupted. “The only solid piece of information the numbers guys have on Monroe is his psychological profile. Two years of investigation and they have absolutely nothing on him.” Clark guffawed, a loud burst of noise, and then grinned in pleasure at another department’s failure. Clint knew that like most cops, Clark resented the SFI’s impressive budget and habit of stealing news headlines. “Two years and nothing. Nada. Zilch.” He made a zero with his fingers. “That’s why they’ve come crawling to us. Us ordinary cops with no special titles or secret budgets. The guys who are out there on the streets, taking it every day for the safety of the city of Chicago. Specifically for you two. The cowboy and the heiress.”
Clint saw Laura move ever so slightly and almost leaned forward to stop her, but checked himself. Let her make her own bed. He’d always reckoned it was better to go along until he could figure out how to suit the circumstance to his own needs.
Laura smiled winningly at her boss. “Captain Clark, if I could interrupt here for a moment, I’ve studied financial—”
“No, you may not,” Clark shouted.
The smile dropped from Laura’s face, in fact Clint would have sworn she shut herself off. Clint didn’t know any other way to describe how she was looking at their boss. She had just thrown off a switch in herself. She was still listening, but he could tell part of her wasn’t there anymore.
“You may not say another word,” Sam Clark continued. Clint could have told her there wasn’t any point in trying to change their senior officer’s mind, but she would never listen to his advice. As far as he could tell, Laura never listened to anyone’s advice.
More importantly he wanted to hear more details of the case. This could very well be the opportunity he’d needed to get him back home. He’d spent the past year in Chicago and while he genuinely liked the windy city, he heard Texas calling to him more and more often.
If he and Laura were successful on this case, he might be promoted to Homicide, which was the best of the best. If he solved the case quickly, Captain Clark would have to recommend him for the spot. With his record in Dallas and his work in Chicago, he figured he was the prime candidate. Once he’d plugged in a year or two in Homicide, no one back home could ever claim that there was anyone more qualified than himself to be sheriff of Two Horse Junction. In fact the only downside to this whole situation was being forced to spend a lot of time with Laura Carter.
Mind, if she had to wear a couple of pretty dresses, hang off his arm and admire him, he didn’t think the assignment would turn out all that bad. “Perhaps you could share with us exactly how the cowboy and the heiress fit into your investigation?”
Garrow nodded. “You’re going to attend a society wedding and make contact with Peter Monroe.”
“Who’s getting married?” Laura asked.
“Penelope York and Kyle Chandler.”
“Penelope York of York Construction?”
Garrow nodded. “Do you know the family personally?”
“No,” Laura said. “I’ve never met them, but my uncle owns stock. He likes to talk about his investments. Have we been invited to the wedding?”
“Yes. I’ve made arrangements for your invitation. Since it’s a big society event, your family connection,” he looked at Laura, “was the entry we needed. The bride’s father was more than happy to cooperate with the SFI, especially after we found a few irregularities with one of his deals. He’s the only one who will know the two of you aren’t married.”
“So York gets his case closed and a cop from a good family on the guest list,” Clint said. “Won’t other guests know that Laura is a cop?”
“No,” Laura said quickly. “People from my family’s social set don’t know I’m a cop.”
“What do they think you do?”
“Nothing.”
“They think you’re just a party girl?” he asked disbelievingly. While he didn’t much care for Laura, no one could deny she was a hard worker.
“Something like that.” Laura pushed that errant strand of hair back into her braid. “What exactly are Clint and I supposed to do at the wedding?”
“With all the parties celebrating the nuptials it’s a week-long affair. Donald York has gone full-out with the celebrations and the Chandler family has thrown in what money they have as well.” Garrow waved the Monroe file at them accusingly. “Let me state the assignment more clearly. You’re going to do more than make contact, you’re going to become Mr. and Mrs. Monroe’s new best friends.” Garrow stared at the file he held in his hands. “We’ve had agents in his company studying every move Peter Monroe makes. Another operative became a social friend at his country club, but nothing. Hell, one of our best agents has spent hours shopping with Mrs. Monroe, but she doesn’t know anything.”
“Or she’s too smart for your operative,” Laura said, but the men ignored her.
“Clint and Laura Marshall are attending all the festivities of the York-Chandler wedding because the Yorks are important business associates. What’s more, Donald York revealed that Monroe asked for Nicholas Vasili to be invited to the wedding ceremony and reception. Vasili is Russian Mafia. This is the closest we’ve ever been to getting Monroe and Vasili in the same room.” Garrow’s face grew animated as he revealed his case. “You two are going to figure out why Monroe wants Vasili at the wedding and uncover what they’re up to. I suspect Vasili will be handing over another load of money for Monroe to launder through his companies—and you’re going to catch them at it.”
“That sounds about as likely as convincing a goat to keep out of the garbage. Surely you have some kind of a better lead?” Clint asked, wondering what kind of a crazy assignment SFI was running.
Garrow mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. “This is our last chance. After this weekend the budget for this case is gone and I have to move on to a more likely candidate, but I want to get Peter Monroe.”
“Why is he so important to you?” Laura asked.
Garrow looked at her, and for a second Clint thought he was going to tell the truth. But then Garrow said, “Because he’s breaking the law.”
Laura tilted her head to the left and studied the skinny man; clearly she, too, knew there was more to the story. “I don’t understand why Clint and I need to pose as a couple to attend the wedding.”
Sam Clark smiled with genuine pleasure as he studied the two of them. Clint didn’t like the man’s assessment. “Because you two, as a couple, fit Peter Monroe’s fantasies. He’s a boy from Jersey who grew up dreaming about the wild west. And cowboys.”
“That explains him,” Laura nodded toward Clint, “but how do I—”
“I’m from Texas,” Clint interrupted. “That doesn’t necessarily make me a cowboy.”
“You could have fooled me,” Laura muttered and stared at his boots.
Captain Clark took another swig of his green health drink, grimaced and pointed at Clint. “I don’t care whether you can shoot a lasso or brand a haystack, you walk and talk like a cowboy and you’re going to do your best to convince Peter Monroe you’re the genuine article.”
Clint wondered if he should point out his many years of police experience and several commendations, but decided not to give Clark more reason to punish him.
Laura crossed one elegant leg over the other and Clint noticed the other two men watching her. “Fine, Peter Monroe wants to play cowboy. I don’t see—”
“If you’d let me finish a sentence you’d learn how you fit in. Damn, your last captain never said anything about you being such a chatterbox.” Captain Clark ran a tongue