Page 36 of Hard Hitter
He squeezed her knee, aware that the policeman was watching them. “I’m going to call the deli.”
He took her Katt Phone out of her hand, because his was still upstairs. “Unlock this for me?”
She did, handing it to him with a briskness that bordered on pissed-off. Hell, maybe she hoped he’d just get lost. But he wasn’t going to leave until he heard what the detective wanted from her. And having your house searched by thecops was a pretty fucked-up way to start the day. She probably wasn’t thinking straight. So Ari would be enjoying just a little more of his company, whether she wanted it or not.
He ordered food and watched the uniformed cop make a cursory sweep of the home’s interior. “When was the last time Mr. Giardi was inside this portion of the house?” the detective asked.
“January 28th,” she said immediately. “I threw him out that night, with my tenant’s help. We moved all his possessions into the storage room, because it has separate access. I changed my locks that day, but not on the basement.”
“Why?”
“Because I was not going to put his fancy clothes on the curb! I was trying to be civilized. But he didn’t get lost like I asked him to. Instead of just removing his stuff, he kept hanging around the place. These past few weeks I kept seeing him out the window, more times than you’d need to take care of some clothes.”
“When’s the last time you saw him go in there?”
“Last Thursday. I was on my way to the stadium for the game against D.C. I saw him out the window, and there was another man, too. They were talking. The other guy left first, and then Vince left. On my way to the stadium that afternoon I went outside to try to figure out what he was up to. And I saw that he’d lockedmeout.”
The agent raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then why did he have to saw open the door last night?”
“Because I retaliated!” Ari was all fired up now, her cheeks pink. “I had the locksmith remove his locks and add mine. I knew he’d be pissed off, but I didn’t know how else to make my point. He doesn’t answer my e-mails. I’ve asked him to get his things out of there for weeks.”
“Would you show me those emails?”
O’Doul didn’t like the direction this was taking. Maybe he’d watched too much TV, but he had to say something. “Do you want to wait and talk to a lawyer?”
She gave him a glare. “I don’t have anything to hide. I just want this cleared up. And I need a restraining order against him.”
“Now there’s an idea I can get behind,” he said.
The agent grinned at him, so he put a protective hand on Ari’s knee. Maybe she’d be pissed off later, but this cop liked him. The whole fame thing was pretty useless most of the time, and if it helped Ari get out of this mess, he didn’t mind exaggerating their relationship.
Ari found the outgoing e-mails on her phone, and let the cop read them.
The doorbell rang, which had to be the food he’d ordered.
“Hey, man,” he asked the cop. “Mind if I grab my wallet from upstairs?”
“Go ahead. I think my guy is done up there.”
O’Doul paid the delivery kid then set the bag down on Ari’s coffee table. “Coffee?” he invited the detective. He’d bought four cups for this very reason.
“Thanks,” the guy said. “Appreciate it.”
O’Doul gave Ari a smile and dug into the bag for sugar packets and cream. “Honey,” he said. It was too familiar sounding, but he wanted the cops to know he was watching over her. “You want me to get plates? I don’t want to get crumbs on your couch.”
Ari got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two plates.
O’Doul passed her a sandwich. And when she actually began to eat it, the satisfaction it brought him was something he’d have to examine later.
The detective began to pepper her with more questions. Why had she kicked Vince out? What did she know about his business?
“Not as much as you’d think,” she said with a sigh. “Three years ago he had several clubs. But I’m pretty sure he’s down to just one. And I think he owes some people money. He never told me his troubles directly, but I heard him on thephone sometimes, and his mood has been really foul since the fall. And that’s all I can tell you.”
“How long were you together?”
“Eight years.”
The cop raised an eyebrow. “Eight years? And you don’t know more about his business?”
