“Let me show you two to your room,” Celina said, taking Lucy by the elbow. “Jenna, Abby can sleep in your room, okay? But don’t let me catch you watching videos! Read books! You remember what is books?”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “I’m taking her to the Bowl.”
“The Bowl! Abby, querida, are you a very strong skier?”
“Sure,” Abby said.
“No,” Danny broke in. “She’s not.”
“Dad!”
“You haven’t skied in three years,” Danny said.
“It’s not like you forget,” Abby said. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“You two go to Buttermilk.” Celina waggled a finger.
“That’s for babies!” Jenna protested.
“Don’t argue with me,” Celina said. “Anyway, don’t they have that superpipe?”
“True,” Jenna said. “Can we take the Vespas?”
“No,” Celina said sternly. “Alejandro can take you. No more talk.” She pointed toward a hall off the main sitting area. “Go.”
“And I’ve got work to do,” Galvin said to Danny. “You guys settle in, you can rest, take it easy, whatever.”
“No,” said Celina, “I want to take Lucy cross-country skiing out behind the house. Danny, is okay if I borrow your beautiful girlfriend later this afternoon? After you have a little rest?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Lucy said. “Where can I rent skis?”
“No problems. We have skis for everyone in the mudroom in the back,” Celina said. “Everything you need.”
Danny’s iPhone sounded a text message alert. He saw it was from AnonText007 and slipped it quickly back into his pocket.
When they got to their room and Celina had left, Lucy sank down on the king-size bed, covered in a moss-green-and-gold-striped comforter, and let out a long, throaty sigh.
“You have a good talk with Celina?”
“I like her a lot,” Lucy said. “She must be lonely out there in the burbs, just doing the mom thing.”
“Well, she doesn’t have to work, that’s for sure.”
“She wants to have lunch when we get back to Boston.”
“You gonna do it?”
“Sure. She wants to talk about the homeless center.”
“You gonna hit her up for a donation?”
“The idea’s crossed my mind.”
“Maybe not such a great idea.”
She gave Danny a curious look. “Why not?”
“It’s already sort of awkward, all the money he’s lent me.”
“Yeah, the homeless aren’t as worthy a cause as a five-thousand-dollar trip to Italy.”
“Lucy. No fair. You know damned well what that was about.”
“I’m sorry. Cheap shot. But I didn’t twist her arm or anything like that. She kept asking about what I did, wanted to know more about it, and she said she wanted to get more involved.”
“Just what we need-get more involved with the Galvins.”
“He says, standing in the Galvins’ Aspen house,” she teased.
Danny exhaled. She was, of course, absolutely right. “It’s… complicated. It would just put us even deeper in their debt.”
“Can we change the subject?” She tugged at his belt. “Come lie with me and be my love.”
He smiled and turned to the enormous window, the stunning view of Aspen Mountain. There were no drapes or blinds.
“You think anyone can see in?” she said.
“Not without a telescope,” Danny said, “and if they’re that determined to watch us make love, they deserve a free show.”
She laughed, and he felt the first tug of arousal.
Lying naked in bed, Lucy said, “I don’t think she’s terribly happy in her marriage.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Just from the way she talked about Tom. There’s something not quite right.”
“How long have they been married?”
“It’s not just the normal stuff, the stresses and strains of a long marriage. Something else. I barely know her, and she was unburdening herself. She comes from some plutocratic Mexican family.”
“Plutocratic, as in rich?”
She nodded. “I always assumed their money came from her husband’s investment business.”
“She actually told you her family is superrich?”
“No, of course not, not like that. I inferred it. But her father was the governor of one of the Mexican states-Veracruz, I think? She went to some convent school in Paris and traveled a lot as a kid, had servants, lot of horseback riding, all that.”
“She told you all this?”
Lucy nodded. “Oh, and do you have any idea how Galvin makes his money?”
“Just that he invests money for some very rich family.”
“Three guesses who that family is.”
Danny smiled. “Holy crap. He’s working for his in-laws, huh?”
There was a knock on the door.
“Lucy, it’s Celina. You are ready for some skiing?”
“Be right out,” she said.
Dinner was at a place called Munchies Grill, which was a wealthy ski resort’s idea of a burger place. Rustic wooden picnic tables inside and curls of wood shavings and sawdust on the floor and cutesy neon signs. Its hamburgers were made from grass-fed beef from a small local supplier, rib meat, ground with bone marrow, stuffed with pork shoulder, and served either on house-made pretzel bread or house-made English muffin. Instead of mashed potatoes, they offered “smashed” Yukon gold potatoes. Not plain old French fries but truffle curly fries with roasted garlic aioli.
Their burgers took forever. After two Diet Cokes, Danny excused himself to use the restroom, at the back of the restaurant.
As he stood at the urinal, he heard the door bolt slide into place. Then, immediately behind him, a familiar baritone, a voice with a metallic rasp.
“You didn’t really think you could just walk away, did you?”
41
Danny finished his business and zipped up and turned to face the DEA agent, Philip Slocum.
His heart pounded, but his voice was steady. “You didn’t follow us here,” he said. “I was watching since we left Galvin’s house. There was no one behind us the whole way.” He turned slowly. It was only him and Slocum in the restroom. The door was bolted.
“So you’re a countersurveillance expert now?”
“You put a tracker on the Suburban.”
“What difference does it make, as long as we’re together?” Slocum gave a leering smile.
“Sorry you’ve wasted a trip. Maybe you can get in some skiing while you’re here.”
The side part in Slocum’s jet-black hair was a broad line of pale white scalp. His eyes were dark and hard.
“How about we go out there and say hi to Tom Galvin?” said Slocum. “Let him know we’re old friends, you and I. That we’ve been working together for several weeks now. I could hand him my business card.”
“I doubt you want to screw up your investigation.”
“Yeah, hate to have him think the DEA is looking at him closely.” Slocum smirked. “I’m sure that would never occur to him.”
“What do you want?”
“Pictures. Photos of whoever Galvin’s meeting with.”
Someone was trying the door. The knob twisted. Then, from outside, a muffled voice: “Sorry.”
“And for that you need me? Won’t the DEA spring for a good telephoto lens?”
“We don’t know when and where he’s meeting. Whereas you’re spending the weekend with him.”
“He’s not on a leash. You expect me to stalk him? Follow him everywhere he goes?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, unless you want me to use my iPhone to take pictures, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“I’ll have a camera for you tomorrow morning.”
“What, you’re going to drop it off at Galvin’s house?”
“No. You’re going to meet me in town early tomorrow morning. Seven A.M. Place called Sweet Tooth on South Galena. It’s a coffee shop. You’re an early riser, and you need your coffee.”