Divorced, Desperate, and Delicious

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

  

That afternoon Lacy came running through the living room, a small digital camera in her hands, chasing the white cat that now wore a Mrs. Claus outfit.

“Sweetie Pie!” Lacy called, but the cat darted beneath the sofa. She dropped the small camera beside Chase’s leg, then got on her knees and peered under the couch. “Sweetie Pie, I’ll give you a can of Fancy Feast . . . if Chase will share.” She looked up at him and grinned; then her attention went back to the cat. “Come on, baby. One more shot is all I need.”

Chase picked up the camera. Something tickled his memory. Then, in a flash, things started meshing. “Damn. That’s it!”

“What’s it?” She popped up.

His mind spun. “Pablo Martinez. Why didn’t I remember that before?”

“Remember what before?” she asked.

He ran to the phone. His hands went to his pockets, only to realize that he now wore the sweats. “My jeans? Where are they?”

“In the washer. Remember? We had sex and then I took them.”

“Damn!” Chase made a mad dash for the laundry room, praying he could still read the number on the scrap of paper. “Damn, damn!” he cursed as he jerked open the washer and pulled his jeans out of the soapy water. Water rolled off the denims and onto the floor. “You didn’t check the pockets?”

“Sorry, the hall sex must have left me a bit rattled.” Her eyebrow arched with a bit of annoyance.

He carefully retrieved the paper, which was smeared but readable.

“Who are you calling?” she asked, and he saw the frustration in her eyes.

“Just a minute.” He punched in the number.

The phone rang and then a recorder came on. He gritted his teeth. “Call me, Jason.” He slammed down the phone.

“What is it?” Lacy asked. The tightness in her voice made him turn around.

“It’s Martinez. That’s the connection with the Lakes case and the last few days.”

“Who is Martinez? And what’s the Lakes case?” she asked.

Chase ran a hand over his face. “He’s an informant. Half-loco kid, thinks of himself as a James Bond type. He likes weird gadgets, mini tape recorders and . . . your camera reminded me of him. He always has these tiny cameras around. He had one about the size of a matchbox, said he uses it to get pictures of deals going down.” Chase paced the kitchen. “He called me last week. Said he had something for me. Wanted me to pick up something at our normal spot.”

“Your what?”

“I didn’t pay much attention to him. I mean, the kid’s nuts. Usually what he hands over is trivial, like a street kid selling a joint, but there was one case that he actually gave us something. It led us to a dead girl. Brandy Lakes was her name. But things didn’t pan out. It was squirrelly. And . . .” Chase stared at the ceiling. “Oh, hell!”

“What?” Lacy snapped again.

“He . . . he’s the same size as I am and has dark hair.”

Lacy blinked. “And that’s bad?”

“It is if he was just pulled from the lake.”

“Oh, you think . . . That’s terrible.”

Chase nodded. “Yeah.” He took off for the bedroom. Lacy followed. He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I need to borrow your car.”