a tip almost two years ago about Monroe laundering Russian mob money through his investment divisions.”
“If the information was solid enough for SFI to begin a full-scale investigation,” Clint asked, “why haven’t you brought charges against him?”
Garrow leaned over Laura’s shoulder and picked a piece of paper out of the file. Clint noticed Garrow linger, a little too long, close to Laura. Garrow saw Clint watching him and dropped his gaze. “Russian Mafia money definitely went through Monroe’s companies, but we can’t connect it directly to him. In fact, every piece of dirty money we’ve followed into Monroe Investments has been tied to a different division. We haven’t been able to connect anything directly and specifically to Peter Monroe—only to five of his senior executives.”
“So he’s very smart—and you can’t pin anything on him. I’m surprised you still have a full investigation on him,” Clint said. “Why don’t you arrest the suits and sweat them until one talks.”
Garrow smiled sourly. “Our case isn’t strong enough—the clues add up but broken down it’s just circumstantial evidence. High-priced lawyers will poke enough holes in our case to keep each of our suspects out of jail. We want the brains behind the money.” He stroked his upper lip and Clint wondered if he’d been on assignment recently where he’d worn a mustache. “We don’t have a complete team on Monroe anymore. In fact, for the past six weeks, I’ve been the only investigator. I’m being reassigned in one week.”
“So you came up with one last-ditch effort to find the incriminating evidence you need,” Clint concluded.
“Last ditch is perhaps a little desperate sounding.” Garrow straightened his tie.
“He’s desperate,” Clark interrupted. “The only solid piece of information the numbers guys have on Monroe is his psychological profile. Two years of investigation and they have absolutely nothing on him.” Clark guffawed, a loud burst of noise, and then grinned in pleasure at another department’s failure. Clint knew that like most cops, Clark resented the SFI’s impressive budget and habit of stealing news headlines. “Two years and nothing. Nada. Zilch.” He made a zero with his fingers. “That’s why they’ve come crawling to us. Us ordinary cops with no special titles or secret budgets. The guys who are out there on the streets, taking it every day for the safety of the city of Chicago. Specifically for you two. The cowboy and the heiress.”
Clint saw Laura move ever so slightly and almost leaned forward to stop her, but checked himself. Let her make her own bed. He’d always reckoned it was better to go along until he could figure out how to suit the circumstance to his own needs.
Laura smiled winningly at her boss. “Captain Clark, if I could interrupt here for a moment, I’ve studied financial—”
“No, you may not,” Clark shouted.
The smile dropped from Laura’s face, in fact Clint would have sworn she shut herself off. Clint didn’t know any other way to describe how she was looking at their boss. She had just thrown off a switch in herself. She was still listening, but he could tell part of her wasn’t there anymore.
“You may not say another word,” Sam Clark continued. Clint could have told her there wasn’t any point in trying to change their senior officer’s mind, but she would never listen to his advice. As far as he could tell, Laura never listened to anyone’s advice.
More importantly he wanted to hear more details of the case. This could very well be the opportunity he’d needed to get him back home. He’d spent the past year in Chicago and while he genuinely liked the windy city, he heard Texas calling to him more and more often.
If he and Laura were successful on this case, he might be promoted to Homicide, which was the best of the best. If he solved the case quickly, Captain Clark would have to recommend him for the spot. With his record in Dallas and his work in Chicago, he figured he was the prime candidate. Once he’d plugged in a year or two in Homicide, no one back home could ever claim that there was anyone more qualified than himself to be sheriff of Two Horse Junction. In fact the only downside to this whole situation was being forced to spend a lot of time with Laura Carter.
Mind, if she had to wear a couple of pretty dresses, hang off his arm and admire him, he didn’t think the assignment would turn out all that bad. “Perhaps you could share with us exactly how the cowboy and the heiress fit into your investigation?”
Garrow nodded. “You’re going to attend a society wedding and make contact with Peter Monroe.”
“Who’s getting married?” Laura asked.
“Penelope York and Kyle Chandler.”
“Penelope York of York Construction?”
Garrow nodded. “Do you know the family personally?”
“No,” Laura said. “I’ve never met them, but my uncle owns stock. He likes to talk about his investments. Have we been invited to the wedding?”
“Yes. I’ve made arrangements for your invitation. Since it’s a big society event, your family connection,” he looked at Laura, “was the entry we needed. The bride’s father was more than happy to cooperate with the SFI, especially after we found a few irregularities with one of his deals. He’s the only one who will know the two of you aren’t married.”
“So York gets his case closed and a cop from a good family on the guest list,” Clint said. “Won’t other guests know that Laura is a cop?”
“No,” Laura said quickly. “People from my family’s social set don’t know I’m a cop.”
“What do they think you do?”
“Nothing.”
“They think you’re just a party girl?” he asked disbelievingly. While he didn’t much care for Laura, no one could deny she was a hard worker.
“Something like that.” Laura pushed that errant strand of hair back into her braid. “What exactly are Clint and I supposed to do at the wedding?”
“With all the parties celebrating the nuptials it’s a week-long affair. Donald York has gone full-out with the celebrations and the Chandler family has thrown in what money they have as well.” Garrow waved the Monroe file at them accusingly. “Let me state the assignment more clearly. You’re going to do more than make contact, you’re going to become Mr. and Mrs. Monroe’s new best friends.” Garrow stared at the file he held in his hands. “We’ve had agents in his company studying every move Peter Monroe makes. Another operative became a social friend at his country club, but nothing. Hell, one of our best agents has spent hours shopping with Mrs. Monroe, but she doesn’t know anything.”
“Or she’s too smart for your operative,” Laura said, but the men ignored her.
“Clint and Laura Marshall are attending all the festivities of the York-Chandler wedding because the Yorks are important business associates. What’s more, Donald York revealed that Monroe asked for Nicholas Vasili to be invited to the wedding ceremony and reception. Vasili is Russian Mafia. This is the closest we’ve ever been to getting Monroe and Vasili in the same room.” Garrow’s face grew animated as he revealed his case. “You two are going to figure out why Monroe wants Vasili at the wedding and uncover what they’re up to. I suspect Vasili will be handing over another load of money for Monroe to launder through his companies—and you’re going to catch them at
