lesson well. He would simply do his job. And this time, he would do it right.
“I’m sure she’ll cooperate.” The slimeworm Flynn was talking, a hell of a lot more placatingly than before. His turf was being invaded by the cops, and he clearly didn’t like it one damned bit. But he could hardly tell the LAPD to go chase itself—at least not in so many words.
With only the slightest squaring of her slim shoulders beneath her dark suit jacket, Dianna Englander seemed to regain control. She sat, then crossed one slender ankle over the other.
Her skirt was short. Or was it that her legs were long? In either case, their endless, shapely forms tantalized Travis.
He abruptly drew his gaze back to her face. Solemnity raised her small, slightly pointed chin.
“Look, officer.” Jeremy Alberts had taken Dianna’s former position near the window. “Of course we’ll cooperate. But we need to make sure the Center and its business aren’t compromised. It’s not unusual these days for buildings to have beefed up security, and we did that. But if people learn the police have us under special surveillance…well, that’s different.”
“Of course,” Travis echoed sardonically. “We wouldn’t want to compromise your business just to save a life or two.”
The other guy from the building, Wally Sellers, who was walking back toward his desk chair, made a sound as if he had swallowed his spit wrong.
“That’s uncalled for.” Dianna Englander rose to face Travis. Her bright blue eyes were ablaze with indignation. There was no sign of her earlier fear. That, at least, was good.
“Sorry,” Travis said, though he knew he didn’t sound in the least chastened. “We don’t intend to harm the Englander Center. There’ll be less possibility of that if you cooperate.”
“Of course,” she acknowledged with a curt nod. “What would you like me to do?”
Travis had done his research. He knew that Jeremy Alberts and Wally Sellers were partners in A-S Development. A-S had formed a public-private partnership with the City of Los Angeles to build the Englander Center at the edge of the Van Nuys civic center, to extend the redevelopment of the area. Only it wasn’t called Englander Center then. It was renamed for the U.S. Representative whose redevelopment efforts caused it to be built after he was murdered during its construction two years ago.
“First thing,” he said, “I’d like you to give me a tour of Englander Center.”
“I’d be glad to later,” Jeremy Alberts interceded, taking a step toward Travis. The fiftyish man, whose hair had gone silver, was obviously used to being in control. Travis wondered idly if his partner Wally ever got his way in an argument. As between the domineering Alberts and his chubby, uneasily smiling partner, Travis suspected Wally had his mind changed often if it dared to hold a differing opinion. “We have people coming in for a meeting now, but I’ll show you around soon as they’re gone. Or perhaps you would like Mr. Flynn to do it.”
“Thanks,” Travis said, “but I meant Ms. Englander. I want her insight on the place, plus I need for her to point out exactly where she thought she saw Farley.”
“I’ll be glad to show you where I did see Farley,” she asserted. Good. She’d taken the bait. This way, she’d insist on giving him the tour, to try to assuage any doubt he had. And he didn’t have much. If anyone would recognize Glen Farley, it was Dianna Englander.
“Fine,” he said. “There’s more you can fill me in on, too.”
“Like what?” Her clear blue gaze challenged him. Though she’d said she would cooperate, she seemed to expect him to come up with something she would refuse.
He had a feeling that, in a clash of wills between Dianna Englander and himself, he’d need a tie-breaker.
That wasn’t good. Not when he had to make sure nothing happened to her, with her husband’s worst enemy so close.
“I’ve read in the local newspaper,” he said, not moving his gaze from hers, “that the Van Nuys civic center is about to have a street fair as a fund-raiser for more redevelopment.”
“That’s right,” Dianna said. “I’ve been working with government agencies and local merchants to put it together.”
“Security will be beefed up, too,” Flynn huffed importantly. “We’re already planning it, along with the private companies that support other nearby buildings.”
“Any idea why that date was chosen?” Travis ignored the pompous security guy and kept his gaze firmly on Dianna’s. Of course, he knew the answer.
“It coincides with the first anniversary of the opening of Englander Center,” she said.
“I need to have you fill me in on the festivities,” he said. “What the public has been told. Whether there’s anything Glen Farley might know about the celebration, and anything he doesn’t—or shouldn’t—know.”
“Oh.” One small hand flew to Dianna Englander’s mouth. “Oh, what?” Wally Sellers asked. He appeared confused.
“I wondered,” Dianna said slowly, “when we first talked about the fair, if it was a good idea, but I got so caught up—”
“That you failed to consider whether some anti-redevelopment nut like Farley might consider it a challenge,” Travis finished.
“What do you mean?” Wally still didn’t get it. He rose to stand beside Dianna. He was about her height, his hair black and thick, and it was hard to tell where his chin ended and his neck began. “We need good press,” he continued. “A few months ago, a celebrity couple worked out their divorce settlement here, in the Center. We got such good publicity that our conference rooms are scheduled months ahead for arbitrations and mediations. We’ve even been booked for movie shoots in our simulated courtrooms. A big anniversary celebration will put us in the news again, bring more business. Maybe even more movie shoots.”
“Farley might have come here because of the anniversary celebration, Wally,” Dianna said quietly. “He may intend to do something to…” She hesitated, as if the things she contemplated as within Farley’s plans were too terrible to voice.
Travis had no such compunction. “Something that would definitely get your center publicity on its first birthday,” he said. “A bombing? Killing the widow of the Center’s namesake? What better time than a celebration to make his perverted point?”
SINCE SEEING FARLEY the second time, Dianna had avoided parking in her designated space in the garage. She paid for valet parking, a service offered by Englander Center that allowed more visitors to stow their cars in the building’s lot and added an extra touch of prestige to the dispute resolution center.
But now she was visiting her empty second-floor parking space. She ignored her apprehension. This time, she was not alone. And even if Glen Farley didn’t realize that the tall, muscular pushcart peddler standing beside her was a trained—and probably armed—policeman, Dianna knew it.
She kept her voice low. “He was over there,” she said to Lt. Bronson. Travis. He’d told her, before they began their tour, to call him by his first name.
In fact, he’d told her to do a lot of things. She
