From then on, although it wasn’t quite every day, they began to meet at the dog park frequently. Jake told himself he didn’t look forward to seeing Athena and Boz, but he knew that wasn’t quite honest. Snick sure did, and, to be truthful, Jake wasn’t much more reluctant.
Athena really was a sweet dog. She stood three times as tall as Snick, sleek and classy as an exotic sports car. Shy, though, and slow to take up with people. She stuck to Boz like Super Glue most of the time, but seemed to take a shine first to Snick and then to Jake. She came bounding to greet them now with her slender tail fanning eagerly. Talk about the odd couple, though. Fuzzy, belligerent, little Snick was the tramp to her lady, for sure.
He learned Boz and Athena lived about five blocks in the opposite direction from the apartment he shared with Snick. While the dogs sniffed around and played doggie games, Jake and Boz had begun to talk. They both liked ethnic food, whether Mexican, Italian, Chinese, or Middle Eastern, and patronized some of the same little restaurants hidden in odd corners throughout Old Town. They both read a lot when they had time—thrillers mostly or true war and crime stories. They both had a penchant for the eighties music they’d grown up with, even while admitting a lot of it was not exactly classic. Finding subjects to talk about never seemed hard, although they tended to avoid personal matters.
Jake wasn’t even sure yet what Boz did for a living. The smaller man was close-mouthed about his work, making a vague comment about security when Jake mentioned he was in the construction business. Jake had shrugged it off as not important anyway. Hell, he wasn’t planning on having a relationship with the man, was he?
The sudden realization the idea had indeed crossed his mind threw him for a loop. He’d always been into casual easy come and easy go kinds of hook-ups. He wanted nothing he could not walk away from without looking back when a job ended, and it was time to hit the road again. He’d learned that trick in the navy, and so far, it had served him well.
Something about Boz just didn’t seem to lend itself to such a casual connection, so he hadn’t even hinted at anything more than their current casual friendship. The smaller man displayed an intensity that seemed to indicate a dead-serious approach to life, even though he affected a flippant, satirical manner.
Suddenly, it was September. The steamy afternoons of the summer rainy season turned drier, while the early morning air held a hint of fall. This far south, winter did not amount to much, but the change of seasons was still a factor, a welcome one for most of the residents. Fall was a good time for construction work—few worries about material or incomplete work getting wet and none about frost or blizzards. With luck, the company would have the new medical complex completed by the end of the year.
Jake’s team was responsible for the complete electrical system, powerful and secure enough to ensure critical diagnostic and surgical equipment functioned without a hitch and life-support was absolutely guaranteed for those patients who required it. He took the responsibility seriously and kept a close eye on every wire run and every connection made. Everything had built-in backup provisions, and they’d wire in a massive generator to pick up in a nanosecond during any failures of the regular power grid. Thus, he was personally disturbed when newly installed wires began to turn up missing and critical components his men swore had been placed disappeared.
Management was furious, of course, because these losses cost them twice, in labor to redo work and in replacing expensive materiel. Jake took the situation to heart as if it reflected on his supervision. He began to watch his men even more closely to be sure none of them were pulling out stuff to sell, maybe to go to Mexico or to wildcat construction projects run by unlicensed contractors working under the radar.
With the current economic problems, the sale of copper from wire and state-of-the-art electronic components could bring in supplemental income for many. He knew a thriving black market existed. Frustrated with his inability to find out what was happening, Jake knew some relief when he learned the company had hired added security people and called on local law enforcement as well. He’d heard hints the thefts could be tied to local drug and gang activity since the facility was near the edge of a district where rival gangs held sway.
One morning, the superintendent called Jake aside as soon as he came on shift. Jake would join a meeting with the LCPD detective in charge at eight o’clock. Jake waited at the modular office where the super hung out, impatient at the delay in the day’s work. His assistant would get things going, but he wanted to be there himself.
He did a double take when he saw the now-familiar figure striding toward him, even if the greyhound was not at the man’s side. Boz? What the hell is he doing here?
Boz seemed equally shocked. He came to an abrupt halt a few paces from Jake. “You’re Mr. Rasmussen, the electrical foreman?”
“One and the same. And you—by chance are you Detective Lieutenant Corwin? Oh, man, I never made the connection. You mentioned security, but it didn’t register.”
Pete Landers, the super, stepped out of the office at that moment. “You guys know each other? Well, that’ll save some time getting acquainted. You both know what’s going on, so as soon as we set some basic ground rules, I’ll leave you to the details.”
“We met at the dog park with our fur kids,” Jake explained. “We had no idea what the other guy did for a living. Guess we do now.”
He spent the rest of the morning walking Boz through the complex, showing him where wires had been pulled out and missing modules should be. Boz asked pointed questions, especially about the background checks on the men who made up Jake’s crew and other tradesmen who were working in the same areas.
“We’ve got a serious drug and gang problem here,” Boz admitted. “The city tries to keep it quiet, but this close to the border, there’s a lot of spillover from the drug wars going on in Mexico. I’ve heard some of the cartels plant people in a variety of jobs and activities. It’s a way to launder money, pilfer valuable commodities, and get toeholds in a lot of unexpected places. We tend to think of gang members as street kids, dropouts from school, unemployed, and so on. That’s not always the case, though. Stereotypes rarely tell the whole story.”
Jake nodded. “I don’t suspect any of my men have that kind of background. They all checked out clean, but we do have some day laborers in and out, people hired just for a short-term need. I don’t think they’re vetted much, if it all, and you can’t keep them under surveillance all the time. If there’s a problem, that’s probably where it’s at.”
“I’ll be coming in for a few days with that kind of cover myself,” Boz said. “Keep it quiet, of course. I’m fluent in Spanish and, although I’m black Irish, I can pass for Latino and do often enough. I don’t know where I’ll be ‘working,’ but I’ll be around. Just so you know. No double takes or friendly chatter when I show up, okay?”
He smiled, and Jake had to grin back. “You got it. If you show up here, I’ll put your ass to work.”
* * * *
Boz scratched Athena’s ears, hesitating more than usual to head for the dog park. “So your little buddy’s papa’s an industrial electrician, girl. And a boss. Should’ve guessed, maybe. He’s got an air of authority and assurance that doesn’t fit a common laborer. It doesn’t make any difference to you, and it shouldn’t to me either, but it caught me off guard. Usually I pick up on things faster. Think I’m slipping?”
Athena sat back on her haunches and regarded him with a serious stare, as if she pondered the import of his words. Then she gave a doggy grin and thumped her tail several times. She jumped up, grabbed her leash from its hook by the door, and turned to look back at him.
Come on…quit jawing and let’s go. She couldn’t have said it any plainer if she could speak the words aloud.
Boz laughed. “Okay, girl. None of this angst and confusion for you, is there? Maybe I need to take a page from your book. Let’s go see if Snick and Jake have beat us to the park tonight.”
They had. Snick flew across the fading grass as soon as he saw them and was waiting when they reached the gate, wiggling with impatience. Jake sauntered over with a casual air that didn’t quite fit his expression.
“Wondered if you were going to make it this evening,” he said. “After the dogs have their romp, what do you say we get together for dinner at Mama Conchita’s and talk about this joint project a little more?”
Boz hesitated. He couldn’t see any harm in it, even if somehow such a meeting had the feel of taking their friendship up a notch. Was he ready for that? Still, if they had a basic plan laid out, it could make working the case easier. They wouldn’t be too conspicuous in a quiet corner of the small neighborhood café where they could talk more freely than they had at the construction site. Their unwritten rule that dog park talk stayed casual seemed to curtail having such a discussion here. As if the “kids” couldn’t be exposed to serious matters. That was stupid, even though Boz couldn’t deny it felt right.
After a moment, he shrugged, just a small twitch of one shoulder. “Sure. Meet you there about seven?”
Jake glanced at his watch. “Yeah, that’ll give me time to fix Snick’s dish and then hike over to the restaurant. There’s not much room to park around there so I usually just walk.”
“Works for me,” Boz agreed. He turned to watch the dogs, one way to keep his gaze off Jake and deny the concerns building about the possible hazards of working more closely with this man who already was making inroads into his careful shelter of isolation.
Undercover dicks should stay that way—in both senses. At the thought, his twitched in a way that left little doubt as to its ideas about the situation. Down, boy. We’re not playing that game.
Jake was one sexy, fascinating man. There was no way Boz could deny the attraction he’d felt from the first, but feeling and acting on it were two different things. He had plenty of practice keeping his feelings, the whole spectrum of them, under wraps. In vice you saw people you had to sympathize with as well as those you loathed from the first glimpse. Although many were even superficially charming and charismatic, you very rarely revealed any emotions because it could give a criminal dangerous leverage to use against you.
Boz had always played the hand he was dealt, but “cool hand” was his middle name. Many people had told him his dark eyes could be as opaque as anthracite, and he knew he had his poker face down to a fine science. He could and would work with Jake and anyone else he needed to, but he’d keep his personal distance. Most of the time he believed survival demanded it.
* * * *
Jake’s spontaneous invitation surprised him as much as it had apparently startled Boz. The impulsive words settled in his gut with a thud as he caught the shutters sliding closed in Boz’s dark eyes. An expressionless calm settled over the other man’s face.
Damn, maybe that was a stupid move on my part. Well, shit, we do need to plan this thing a little more than we have so far, anyway.
He wasn’t sure whether he was sorry or relieved when Boz agreed to the meeting. It seemed like a long time and also like no time at all until he slid into the cracked bench seat opposite Boz in a corner booth at the homey café. In contrast to the first response to his invitation, Jake saw Boz now appeared completely at ease. He smiled as Jake approached. A trace of sardonic humor lit his ebony gaze.
“Took you long enough,” he quipped. “I figured maybe you’d stood me up.”
Jake shook his head. “No, Snick got a little ornery about me leaving, though, and I had to talk him out of a snit.”
Boz chuckled. “You and that damned dog. How’d you ever luck onto a contrary scrap of fur and meanness like him?”
“Damned if I know. Still, we suit each other, don’t you think? I could say the same about you and Athena, but in that case, I’d wonder how she took up with the likes of you.”
Boz’s smile held a trace of melancholy. “In that case, the luck was all mine. She’s an incredible dog. I can’t say I deserve her, though I thank the gods she found me.”
They ordered, then sipped bottles of Tecate while they waited for the meal. Jake found himself studying the other man’s striking face. Boz looked more like an artist or even a monk than a detective. Jake could not see anything southwestern about the smaller man nor could he hear it in his accent, which was really no accent at all. He spoke almost as if English was a well-learned second language, close to textbook perfect.
“How’d you get into the cop business?” After he asked, he realized the other man might consider the question intrusive. He really did want to know, though. He sensed there was a story there.
Boz hesitated a beat. “Family tradition, mostly. My dad and three uncles were all on the force in Boston. We’re Irish…well, more the black Irish variety—probably a trace of that Spanish blood from the wreck of the armada back in sixteen-whatever. Boys in our family either went into the church or on the police force. I wasn’t cut out to be a priest, so what else could I do?”
“You’re a long way from Boston. I’d never have guessed that was your home, either. Most exiles still have the accent…sound like the Kennedys, you know?”
Boz quirked an eyebrow. “No fuckin’ way, man. I thought about going into the theater as a kid, and the first thing I did was lose that accent. Never got it back and don’t plan to. I had a couple of good speech and elocution teachers in school who helped me develop a regionless speech pattern. It’s been handy at times. I’ve picked up a fair bit of Spanish the last few years, at least the border variety, and that works here. It’s not the Latin I had to study back then—parochial school, of course. Anyway, that background helped my learning curve.”
Jake found himself nodding. “Yeah, I’m getting some of that Tex-Mex or whatever too. Almost have to if I want to communicate with half the crew these days.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong because I don’t begrudge them a job. Hell, my old man was a citizen of Sweden, and he married a Greek. They did become Americans once they settled here, but they were foreigners.”
“Swedish and Greek? That’s a hell of a mixture. How’d that ever happen?”
“Dad was a sailor…merchant marine. He was all over the world for a number of years, then decided to settle down after he met Mom when his ship landed in Greece. They were the odd couple for sure, yet it worked until he died five years ago. Raised six of us mismatched kids. Mom calls San Diego home now, and the other kids are all in SoCal. I’ve just got an itchy foot, probably inherited from Dad.”
They concentrated on the meal for a few moments and then switched to the ostensible reason for the meeting.
“So what do you think we need to do to catch the thieves? Any ideas about who they might be?”
Boz’s question should not have surprised Jake. He wasn’t sure why it did. Maybe he figured the detective would take the lead here. He was flattered to be asked anyway. He hesitated, scratching his jaw.
“I’m not sure. Probably hide out at the site for a few nights and try to see what’s happening, if anything. They have to come back when nobody’s around and no work’s going on. It’d be pretty obvious, pulling wire and removing control modules and stuff, if they did it in broad daylight. I’d hate to think it’s anyone on my crew, although I guess it could be. But, hell, they’re good men, hard workers, and I’ve trusted them.”
Boz looked thoughtful. “That’s how it happens a lot of times. People can be deceptive, show one face to you, hiding the real person behind a facade. Some of them really do lead a double life, one honest and one crooked as a sidewinder. I’m thinking it’d almost take someone in the business to know what was the most valuable, and you said this morning that the most expensive components are disappearing along with lots of wire. Copper is up there these days on the metals markets.”
Shaking his head, Jake pondered on that. “Never had anything like this happen before on a job. This is my first as crew chief. I was assistant on two others before this one, but not the head honcho. I never heard of this kind of thievery on jobs I’ve been on, and word tends to get out. Hell, it’s hard to hide having to redo a bunch of work when stuff disappears. “
“I like your idea of going back and laying low, watching for a few hours, We could do it tonight since tomorrow’s Sunday if you’re up to it, or pick another night, tomorrow or whenever works for you. I’m never off duty, not really, when there’s a case to work. They don’t pay me by the hour.”
Jake didn’t hesitate. “It can’t get resolved too soon. Management is having fits. I know it’s costing them through the nose. The sooner we get this thing nipped, the better. I guess we aren’t quite going ninja, are we? I expect dark clothes and a quiet, unobtrusive approach would be called for.”
“I wear black a lot,” Boz admitted, “and sometimes a little camo face paint in stakeouts. This isn’t quite like some of the drug surveillances. Close, though. Let’s go home and grab a quick nap, then say we meet at the northwest corner of the site about midnight.”
Jake readily agreed, a quiver of excitement tickling behind his belly button. He hadn’t had a real adventure for some time, and this promised to be one. Although it could be completely dull and boring, a hunch told him it wouldn’t be.
“I’ll be there,” he said. “No bells.”