Sandra Marton

Ring Of Deception


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a file toward him, opened it and quickly scanned the top page. “There are three owners—Hannah Richards, Alexandra Webber and Katherine Kinard. Our people have spoken with them—well, more specifically, with the Kinard woman and her attorney. She’s agreed to cooperate.”

      “Lieutenant, whoever came up with this plan is crazy. Excuse me, sir, for being blunt, but setting up a surveillance in a day care center, asking me to deal with babies is—”

      “I came up with it,” McDowell said, his eyes riveted to Luke’s. “And I’m not asking you, Sloan. I’m telling you.”

      “I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

      “You’ll learn.”

      “I don’t like kids.”

      “Ever spent any time around them?”

      “No!”

      “Well, that’s why you think you don’t like them. You’re a quick study, Sloan. Just pay attention to what Ms. Kinard tells you, you’ll be fine.”

      “Lieutenant,” Luke said desperately, “a female detective would—”

      “The place is open Mondays through Fridays, so you won’t be able to use it for surveillance of the jewelry exchange on Saturdays. Dan Shayne will take Saturdays. He’ll set up in a van on the street. Other times, he’ll do whatever legwork, paper stuff you might need.”

      “Lieutenant. Really, a woman would—”

      “Here’s what little we have on the Emerald City Jewelry Exchange, its employees and Julian Black.”

      McDowell got to his feet and held out the folder, indicating the meeting was over. Luke stared at him for two or three seconds. Then he stood up, too.

      “Susan. Susan Wu,” he said desperately. “She’s one hell of a good detective, she has grandchildren, she likes kids.”

      “An excellent choice.”

      Luke let out his breath. “Well, then, sir . . . ”

      “Unfortunately, Wu is in the hospital with appendicitis.” McDowell shoved the folder at Luke and fixed him with the sort of look he remembered from his days in the corps. “Anything else, Detective Sloan?”

      Luke had taken on men twice his size, fought battles he’d never expected to win, but he wasn’t a fool. There was no way to win a war with McDowell unless he wanted to find himself in uniform again.

      “No, sir,” he said, took the folder and went to meet his fate.

      * * *

      AN HOUR LATER, LUKE SAT in a chair, staring at a woman seated behind the business side of a desk so neat and uncluttered it made him nervous.

      Katherine Kinard wasn’t making him nervous, however. What she was doing was pissing him off. From the look on her face when he’d walked into her office and introduced himself as the detective who’d be working undercover at her day care center, he might as well have been Ivan the Terrible.

      “You?” she’d said, her eyes round with shock. “You’re the undercover police officer? But my attorney—Daniel Adler—said you’d be . . . He spoke with someone in your department, and they promised him you’d be a woman.”

      Luke lifted one dark eyebrow. “Trust me, Ms. Kinard. I’m not.”

      “He said you’d be middle-aged and motherly, someone the children would love.”

      “Believe me, I’m no happier about this than you are.”

      “What do you know about children, Officer—Officer . . . ?”

      “Detective. Detective Luke Sloan. I don’t know a damned thing about them.”

      “We don’t curse at Forrester Square Day Care, Detective.”

      “I’ll bet you don’t.” Luke glared at his supposed new employer. She glared back. “Look, I told you, I’m no happier than you are, but—”

      Katherine held up her hand, reached for the phone and punched a speed-dial button. “One moment, please, Detective. No, don’t bother getting up. I’m going to call Mr. Adler and see what he . . . Daniel? Yes, it’s Katherine. I’m fine, thank you. Look, Daniel . . . ” She rolled her eyes. “That’s great. Yes, it is difficult to get tickets for . . . Alexandra is fine, too, thank you. Yes. Much better. She’s even starting to talk about moving out of my place and getting an apartment of her own. Right. I do see that as a good sign.”

      Luke tried not to listen, but it was impossible. Besides, he wasn’t hearing anything he didn’t already know. The “Alexandra” Katherine Kinard was talking about was undoubtedly Alexandra Webber. McDowell had told him Forrester Square Day Care was run by three women: Alexandra Webber, Hannah Richards and the woman sitting at her desk, who was doing her best to get rid of him.

      He could only hope she managed to pull it off.

      Luke rose to his feet. The Kinard woman looked up inquiringly.

      “Take your time,” Luke said politely. “I’ll just stroll around your office and try to get a feel for what the place is like.”

      It took less than ten seconds to decide that what the place was like was the inside of a loony bin after the art therapist finished a session with the inmates.

      Luke stood, transfixed, before a sheet of paper tacked to a beaverboard wall. The paper was covered with swirls and stripes of red, yellow and blue and was only one of what looked like a hundred similar sheets of paper.

      Slowly, he walked the length of the wall. What were all these brushstrokes supposed to represent? That thing had to be a tree. And a dog . . . well, no. He’d never seen a blue dog with six legs. That had to be a house. A man, a woman, a child. And a bird in the sky . . . or was it an airplane?

      Hell, he thought, and walked toward the window that looked out onto the Emerald City Jewelry Exchange, directly across the street. The floor space all around him was crowded with stacks of books and boxes.

      The lady needed a good carpenter. Some shelves, some cabinets and cupboards—

      “Detective?”

      Luke swung around. Katherine Kinard was staring at him and trying to smile. She was a nice-looking woman, not his type at all, but he’d kiss her smack on the lips if it turned out she and her lawyer had enough clout to get him taken the hell out of here.

      “Well, Detective, it looks as if you’re going to be working here for a while.”

      Luke groaned. Kinard looked startled, and then she laughed.

      “My feelings, exactly. Understand, it’s nothing personal.”

      “The same here, Ms. Kinard.”

      “Please, call me Katherine. If you’re going to be an aide here—”

      “I have to admit, I was pulling for you and your attorney.”

      Katherine sighed. “Seems they really did have a female detective lined up, but she came down with—”

      “Appendicitis. I know.”

      “Mr. Adler called your lieutenant while I was on the phone.” She pushed back her chair. “I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it. I’ve already had my partners, Hannah and Alexandra, relocate upstairs for as long as you’re here.” She waved a hand at the two vacated desks in the room. “They share this office with me, but we decided you’d be able to work better with fewer people around. They’ll be in and out from time to time, of course. Now, we thought that you could work with one of our teachers and a group of about ten children, and—What’s the matter?”

      “I have a job to do, Katherine. I don’t know how much they told you . . . .”

      “They told me nothing whatsoever. Police business,