While they waited for their check, Stone said, “I know we have plans for dinner already, but if you don’t need to work this afternoon, can I entice you into a little outing?”
“I’m intrigued. What kind of outing?”
“Oh, no. You need to choose first.”
“One second.” She pulled out her phone, studied the screen, then set the device down. “Still no word from the person I’m supposed to meet, so it appears that I’m free. Now can you tell me?”
“Absolutely not. But I would suggest putting on something more comfortable.”
“You don’t like what I’m wearing?”
She had on a pale yellow sleeveless dress that looked stunning against her golden skin. “I like it very much, but trust me, you’ll be happier if you change.”
“Into what?”
“Pants and a comfortable shirt. Jeans would probably be best if you have them.”
“You’re not going to be putting me to work, are you?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
After Stone paid the bill, Monica nodded toward the restrooms. “I need to make a stop.”
“I’ll meet you in front.”
When Stone reached the lobby, the only other people present were the hostess and a man looking at his phone, waiting for a table.
Monica soon reappeared in the dining room, walking toward the front. She was almost abreast of the hostess when the waiting diner looked up.
She stopped short when she saw him, both of them staring at each other in surprise.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the man said.
Monica quickly regained her composure and started to walk past him without answering. But he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“I asked you a question.”
One step, and Stone was standing beside him, his hand clamping down on the man’s shoulder.
“Hey!” the man said.
“Let her go.”
“Stay out of this, buddy. It isn’t any of your concern.”
As he said this, Monica twisted her arm out of the man’s grasp and took a step back.
“I’m not finished with you!” he yelled.
“You damn well are,” she said. “I don’t work for you anymore, Dalton. Remember?”
His eyes narrowed. “Wait. You’re not still trying to prove that ridiculous hunch of yours, are you?”
“We have nothing to talk about. Come on, Stone.”
She headed out the door with Stone.
Dalton followed after them. “This is so typical of you. You were always going off rogue and never listened to me. That’s why you lost your job, you know. If you’d shown even a little respect, I might have kept you around.”
She kept walking without looking back.
“See! I’m right. Still not listening.”
Stone had had enough. He turned and stepped in front of the man. “Dalton, is it?”
“I said this is none of your business.”
He tried to go around Stone, but Stone shifted so he was still in the man’s path.
“Actually, it is.” He pulled out a business card and held it out. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Miss Reyes’s attorney. If you continue harassing her, I’ll have a restraining order slapped on you before the day’s out, and I will inform your employer about your behavior.”
Dalton looked at the card. “This has a New York address. I doubt you’re even licensed to practice in New Mexico.”
“You don’t think that I have contacts here who would be more than happy to do it for me?”
Dalton grimaced in frustration, then balled up Stone’s card and tossed it on the ground. Glaring past Stone at Monica, he shouted, “I don’t ever want to see you again!”
“I can assure you the feeling’s mutual,” Stone said.
Dalton’s eyes settled on Stone for a second before he headed back into the restaurant.
Chapter 19
Dalton contemplated ordering a third martini but forced himself to refrain. He needed to stay sharp.
That damn Monica Reyes.
Two months ago, she’d come to him with a theory about several recent insurance claims for high-end art that had been destroyed in various incidents. She believed they weren’t destroyed at all, but had been stolen by the same group of people. The little evidence she had was circumstantial at best, but she’d been convinced she was right. Which, of course, she was.
His first instinct had been to shut her down completely, but he worried that doing so would only strengthen her suspicions. So, instead, he’d given her a little rope, in the hope she’d hit a dead end and lose interest.
What he hadn’t counted on was Monica’s tenacity. Though unaware of it, she’d come close to foiling jobs more than once. Dalton had been forced to take a more active role in deflecting her interests, even going so far as to plant false evidence that should have derailed her investigation.
But she just kept pushing and pushing. Two weeks ago, she’d told him she’d been contacted by someone claiming to have firsthand knowledge of the thefts. He’d pressed her for the person’s name, but she said all contact was via a generic e-mail account, so she didn’t know. As proof of the source’s credibility, the e-mailer had provided several bits of info that aligned with Monica’s theories, so Monica was sure the person was on the up-and-up.
That was troubling enough, but when she asked for funds to cover a trip to Santa Fe to meet her source in person, the alarm bells in Dalton’s head really started clanging. Simon had a gallery in Santa Fe. Though Monica hadn’t mentioned the art dealer’s name, Dalton couldn’t take the chance that her source wasn’t connected in some way.
Dalton’s first act was to inform Simon of a possible leak within his organization. He said an anonymous tip had come into Vitale Insurance about the thefts, which was true, and warned Simon it must have been someone in his inner circle. He purposely didn’t mention Monica’s involvement. He didn’t want to give Simon reason to think that he couldn’t control his own staff and therefore was a liability.
Dalton ultimately altered reports that Monica had filed on several past cases, intentionally introducing errors, then used them as reasons to terminate her. He’d assumed that had stopped her meddling, but given that she was here in Santa Fe, he was clearly wrong.
Whether he should have told Simon about Monica when she’d first started sniffing around the thefts or not, he had no idea. What he did know was that if he told him now, Dalton could kiss away any chances of getting a bigger piece of the pie.
He wasn’t about to let that happen, which meant he would have to deal with Monica himself. Exactly how he’d have to figure out. But right now, it was time to see Simon to change their arrangement.
Dalton straightened his tie, cleared his throat, and rang the doorbell of Simon’s townhouse. Moments later, the door was opened by a huge man with a hard face and a shaved head.
“Yeah?”
“I’m looking for Simon Duchamp.”
“So?”
“Is he home?”
“Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“I know all his friends. You ain’t one of them.”
“We work together.”
“Listen, bud. You either give me a name or I shut this door in your face.”
“Dalton. Dalton Conroy.”
“Wait here.”
The door slammed closed. A minute went by, then two. Dalton was beginning to wonder if he should ring the doorbell again when the door opened. This time, instead of the brute, Simon stood in front of him.
“What are you doing here, Dalton?”
“Bringing you the information you asked for.”
Simon considered him for several seconds, then frowned and said, “Come in.”
He led Dalton into a spacious living room and motioned him to sit.