“You draw too?” Alice asked, looking at my project, eyebrows raised.
“Actually, what I do is remember—anything I see. And I have very fine motor control, so I’ve learned to draw what I remember. But ask me to make up something original? Not so good. I’ve been told I lack imagination.”
My recreation of the Arcana certificate was almost done and it wasn’t horrible, especially considering it was drawn with a ballpoint pen on a piece of notepad paper... in a moving vehicle.
“Good detail, Jensen. Alice, get a photo of that and send it to Seth, Morris, and Eve,” Agent Jay said. “Mitch, what’s our ETA?”
“GPS says three minutes to subject number two, Cecil Clarett,” came his instant answer. “Eve says he’s home. Works a late shift.”
“You ready for round two?” Jay asked me.
“Yes ma’am,” I said, tugging the top of the leotard into a more comfortable position. It was just a shade small on me. Then I adjusted the lapels of my jacket. Alice immediately reached out and moved them back to where they had been.
“Girl, don’t be covering everything all up. Remember your story: You’ve worn this stuff most of your life. You’re totally comfortable in it,” she admonished, giving me a look over. “There, just a young athlete, wearing her regular uniform. Nothing slutty but enough to keep a man’s attention.”
I’m not good with that whole approach. Girls like Erika Bokland might be able to work the sexy look all day long—hell, she even seems to enjoy it—but not me. I prefer to look like the threat that I am. But I have to admit that even Jetta Sutton wasn’t opposed to distracting her enemies. She habitually wore Lycra and Spandex athletic gear—mostly because it was comfortable, but also fully aware that it focused men’s attention on her body. Any distraction was a possible edge. Take every edge. Always.
Mitch pulled the big car to a stop and I popped my door and got out. The whole street was pretty much brick townhouses. Seemed like a theme in this part of Philly.
I worked my way to Cecil’s door, selling two more coupon books along the way. Based on the buyers’ reactions, it was the coupons, not my charming self, that made the sales. Must be some really popular places Eve and Morris had picked.
I rang the doorbell at the subject’s apartment and listened. At first there was nothing and I thought Eve might be wrong. But a minute later, I heard the sound of someone shifting around. It quieted, so I hit the buzzer again. A soft curse sounded inside, then feet hit hardwood and came toward the front.
The man who answered the door was about six feet in height, African-American, with a muscular build that was showing the padding of middle years, just a little gray in the black hair, and with dark eyes that watched me warily from behind black-rimmed glasses. “Yeah?”
“I’m Cassidy with the Honey Badger’s gymnastic team here in Philly. We’re selling coupon books to raise money for Nationals in August. Only twenty dollars and there’s over a hundred in savings. Would you like one?”
Unlike the old guy, Cecil didn’t even look me up and down. His dark eyes just bored into me, his face almost expressionless. “Nope. Don’t want any. Sorry kid.” He started to close the door.
“Sir! Are you sure?” I asked, trying to seem as earnest as I could. None of the apartment was visible to me, his big frame blocking my view. “Don’t you even want to look at the coupons?” I asked, flipping the folding booklet open, coupons almost in his face.
He grimaced in annoyance but reached out to take the booklet. Glancing at it, he took a second before nodding. “You know, I’ll just keep this one.” Then he stepped back and shut the door. Or at least tried to. My instant response was to slap my palm against the steel of the door and stop it in its tracks. “That’s twenty dollars, sir.”
He frowned, an angry sort of frown, and shoved harder. The door didn’t move. The frown shifted from anger to surprise. He rocked onto his back foot, sort of a reflex, and I shoved back, pushing the door open a foot more. The anger came back in a flood across his features.
“Either buy it or give it back,” I said.
For a split second, I thought he might take a swing at me. Part of me hoped he would. But after a second he grimaced and threw the coupons at me. I snatched them out of the air, no part of me wanting to have to bend down in front of this guy.
“Get out!” he said, both fists clenching. I gave the apartment a full look, pulling in all the details in one slow sweep. Only then did I step back out of the doorway. He moved forward in a bit of a rush, slamming the door in such a way that it would have knocked me backward and maybe down the steps if I hadn’t moved quick enough.
“What an ass hat,” Mitch’s voice said through my nano connection to the team comm system. “Too bad he didn’t take a poke at you.”
Yeah. Too bad.
Thirty seconds later, I was back in the Suburban.
“Well, that was disappointing. Did you get anything?” Jay asked.
“Let me review it,” I said, closing my eyes and letting the images recorded in my nano self replay against the movie screen in my brain.
“I saw the apartment foyer and a small slice of both the living room on the right side and the kitchen at the far end of the foyer hallway. Past due cable and internet bill stuck to the fridge with a magnet from Rick’s Bar. One hundred and sixty-six dollars, thirty-seven cents. Macintosh Pro open on the couch in the living room. Screen showing email inbox—Outlook. Six unopened emails listed,” I recounted, pausing to focus down on the listing.
“They consisted of two more bills—electricity and a gym membership that’s in danger of being canceled. Three retail mailings—Ross Stores, TJ Maxx, and Target online. And an email from someone named Placer. Subject line titled Followups.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Mitch said. “We should have Eve and Morris hack that one.”
“Maybe. Let’s hold off on that for now. We have one more visit to make. Jaleesa is at her job with the dealership. How many coupon books do we have left?” Agent Jay asked.
“Nine,” Alice said. “Plus this slightly damaged one from Caeco’s friend back there.”
“Mitch, head to the dealership. Caeco, we’re going to put your salesmanship to the test,” Jay said.
Jaleesa was the office manager for Holme Auto Group, a used car dealership that promised the largest selection of high-quality, low mileage used cars in a three-state area. Based on the size of the lot and the number of cars spread out across it, they might actually have a shot at that title.
Mitch pulled in and stopped a bit away from the dealership building, right in the lineup of big SUVs like our Suburban. A GMC Yukon, a Toyota Sequoia, and a Ford Expedition provided cover to keep our vehicle blocked from view, leaving me to walk the eighty-nine yards (according to my nanos) to the building.
Inside, I found three guys talking around a desk, with my subject sitting right in the middle of them. Jaleesa was very attractive, mid-twenties, wearing a black pantsuit that showed off her kick-boxing-toned figure to good effect. Here was a woman obviously comfortable with her attractiveness.
Two Caucasian men, both mid-thirties and one African-American, were chatting away with her while she stayed focused on her terminal. All four looked my way as I approached tentatively.
“Ah, hi. I’m Cassidy, with the Honey Badgers gymnastics. I’m selling coupon books to raise money for our trip to Nationals.”
The two younger men honed in on me like hawks on mice. But the older guy frowned. “Young lady, we don’t allow solicitations here. This is a place of business,” he said. Jaleesa, however, gave me a bright smile.
“You don’t allow sales in a sales office?” I asked, as bewildered as I could make myself.
Jaleesa snorted and one of the two guys chuckled while the other just kept looking me over. The older guy shook his head in annoyance, flashing a glare at the others before turning back to me. “We allow auto sales here because that’s what we do. We don’t allow other kinds.”
“Tell him that your Uncle Mitch thought as much. That a place like this wouldn’t be a good place to do business. Let it slip that Mitch buys cars for Uncle Sam.” Mitch said in my ear.
“Oh, he was right. I hate when he’s right about stuff like that,” I said. “Sorry for bothering you.”
“Who’s he?” Jaleesa asked, interested.
“My Uncle Mitch. He buys cars for a living and when I said I should try this place, he said not to bother. Said a place like this isn’t really the kind of place where he buys. It’s okay, Mister. He’ll take me to the bigger dealerships and they’ll buy just ‘cause of him.”
“Your uncle buys cars?” Jaleesa asked, flashing a look at the older guy.
“Yeah, for the government. Anyway, thanks,” I said, turning to walk away.
“Wait. I want to buy one of your books. How much are they?” she asked.
I turned back, wearing a shy smile. “Really? They’re twenty dollars, but they save you over a hundred. Really good restaurants and stores,” I said, walking back and handing a booklet to Jaleesa. One of the young guys, the one looking at me like I was a menu, leaned in close, like he was trying to see the booklet still in my hands. What he was really doing was trying to look at my chest.
“Hey, these are really good. I’ll take… shit, James, stop perving on the poor girl,” Jaleesa said, glaring him back a step.
“Come on, James,” the older guy said before turning to me. “Your uncle buys cars for the government? Here? In Philly?”
“Yeah. Also in New Jersey and some of Baltimore. Apparently they go through a lot of cars,” I said offhandedly, my attention on Jaleesa and the money she was getting out of her purse.
“I’ll take one,” the pervy guy James said.
“Nope, I’m buying them all,” Jaleesa said. “How many do you have, Cassidy?”
“Four. Those two and two more in my uncle’s car.”
“We’ve got like eight more. You kinda suck at this sales thing,” my uncle Mitch said in my ear.
“Why, I have just enough to buy all four,” Jaleesa said, fingers rifling four twenties in her wallet. “Come on, I’ll walk out with you to your uncle’s car. He’s outside?”
“Yeah, in a big monster of an SUV,” I said.
“Government?”
“Yeah, he says he buys these big ones for all the agencies. You know, the letter ones.”
“Letter ones?” she asked.
“You know? FBI, CIA, ATF, DO… something,” I said, frowning in thought.
“D? DOD?” she asked with another glance at the boss man.
“Yeah, that’s the one. He buys tons of those big ones for them. Why… do you guys sell cars like that?”
“We sell cars like everything,” she said, putting an arm around me as she came up even with me. “Come on. I’d love to meet your Uncle Mitch.”
“On my way in,” Mitch said in my ear.
“Cool. If I sell these last four, I’ll be ahead of the other girls. Coach has a prize for the most sales.”
“Ooh. Competitive. I like that,” she said as we neared the doors.
Suddenly Mitch was there, striding up to the glass front. He spotted me, his eyebrows going up as if surprised by my companion.
“Uncle Mitch. This is… I’m sorry, I
never got your name?”
“Jaleesa… Jaleesa Brown,” she said, holding out one hand.
Uncle Mitch smiled and shook it. “Jaleesa, lovely name. I hope my niece wasn’t bothering you. I tried to explain that most businesses don’t like to have their time wasted with things like fundraisers.”
“Oh, no, not at all. I bought the two books she had on her, but I wanted the rest. They make great gifts, you know,” she said, smiling back. Barf, as Jetta would say. Both trying to con the other by pretending to be attracted to each other. “Cassidy tells me you’re in car sales too?”
“Not sales. Procurement. I head the regional automotive procurement division for the GSA—Government Services Administration,” Mitch said, handing her a business card. Pretty slick. I didn’t know he had those.
“Well Mr. Allen, if you have any need of any high-quality used cars, we move quite a volume. Unless you just buy new,” Jaleesa said.
“No, I buy used too. You’d be surprised at what some agencies need. I just might give you a call,” he said.
She gave him a truly brilliant smile and handed him a card of her own. “You just do that, Mr. Allen—anytime. Day or night.” Then she actually winked. Right at him. I took that as my cue to head to the SUV, pulling open the passenger door just enough to grab two more coupon books from Agent Jay without revealing her to anyone in the lot.
Mitch and Jaleesa were all smiles as I walked back and handed her the booklets. She handed me the cash, then with a last “Goodbye,” she turned and headed back into the building with decidedly more swing in her step than when we had walked out.
“Thanks for the assist, Uncle Mitch,” I said as we turned back to the Suburban. He was still watching Jaleesa.
“Thanks yourself. I got a date out of it. For the investigation, of course,” he said, turning back my way.
“Of course,” I agreed. “For the good of the case.”