The Winner

“You scared me to death,” she said.

“Sorry. Now what the hell are you doing here?”

“Is this how you usually welcome company into your home?”

“Company usually comes in through the front door, and only after I’ve opened it.” He looked around. “This sure as hell isn’t my front door, and I don’t remember inviting you in.”

LuAnn moved away from him as she looked around the space and then returned her gaze to his angry features.

“This is a nice place to come and think. How would you like to build me something like this at my house?”

Riggs leaned up against the wall. He still held the shotgun in the down position but he could swing it up into a firing position in the matter of a second. “I would think you’d want to see my work on the fence before you hired me for something else, Ms. Savage.”

She feigned surprise at the sound of her name but apparently not enough to satisfy Riggs.

“So, did you find anything else of interest in my office besides my homework on you?”

She looked at him with even more respect. “I’m a little paranoid about my privacy.”

“So I noticed. Is that why you carry a pistol?”

LuAnn looked down at her pocket. A sliver of the .38 was visible.

“You have good eyes.”

“A thirty-eight doesn’t have such great stopping power. If you’re serious about your privacy, and your security, you might want to step up to a nine millimeter. A semiautomatic over a revolver is a no-brainer.” The hand holding the shotgun twitched for an instant. “I tell you what, you take the revolver out, muzzle first, and I’ll stop fussing with my shotgun here.”

“I’m not going to shoot you.”

“That’s absolutely right, you’re not,” he said evenly. “Please do as I say, Ms. Savage. And do it very slowly.”

LuAnn took the pistol out, holding it by the barrel.

“Now unload it and put the bullets in one pocket and the pistol in the other. And I can count to six so don’t try to be cute.”

LuAnn did as she was told, looking at him angrily. “I’m not used to being treated like a criminal.”

“You break into my house carrying a weapon, that’s exactly how I’m going to treat you. Count yourself lucky that I didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. Buckshot can be very irritating to the skin.”

“I didn’t break in. The door was open.”

“Don’t try that one in a court of law,” he fired back.

When Riggs had confirmed that she had emptied the revolver, he broke open the shotgun and laid it down on the bookcase. He crossed his arms and studied her.

Slightly unnerved, LuAnn went back to her original train of thought. “My circle of friends is very small. When somebody intrudes on that circle I tend to get curious.”

“That’s funny. You call it intrusion, but what I did this morning ordinarily would be called coming to the rescue.”

LuAnn brushed a strand of hair out of her face and looked away for a moment. “Look, Mr. Riggs—”

“My friends call me Matt. We’re not friends, but I’ll allow you the privilege,” he said coolly.

“I’d rather call you Matthew. I don’t want to break any of your rules.”

Riggs looked startled for a moment before settling back down. “Whatever.”

“Charlie said you were a cop.”

“I never said so.”

She looked at him, surprise now clear on her features. “Well, were you?”

“What I was really isn’t any of your business. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

She rubbed her hand across the old leather chair. She didn’t answer right away and Riggs was content to let the silence endure until she broke it. “What happened this morning is a little more complicated than it appeared. It’s something that I’m taking care of.” She paused and looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I appreciate what you did. You helped me and you didn’t have to. I came here to thank you.”

Riggs relaxed a little bit. “Okay, although I didn’t expect any thanks. You needed some help and I was around to give it. One human being to another. The world would be a hell of a lot better place if we all lived by that rule.”

“I also came to ask a favor.”

Riggs inclined his head toward her, waiting.

“The situation this morning, I would appreciate it if you’d just forget about it. Like I said, Charlie and I are taking care of it. If you got involved, it might make things more difficult for me.”

Riggs took this in for a few moments.

“Do you know the guy?”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

Riggs rubbed his chin. “You know, the guy banged me up. So I already feel like I’m involved.”

LuAnn moved closer to him. “I know you don’t know me, but it would mean a lot if you would just drop it. It really would.” Her eyes seemed to widen with each word spoken.

Riggs felt himself drawing closer to her although he hadn’t physically budged an inch. Her gaze seemed to be pasted onto his face, all the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to be blocked out as though an eclipse were occurring.

“I’ll tell you what: Unless the guy gives me any more trouble, I’ll forget it ever happened.”

LuAnn’s tensed shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you.”

She moved past him toward the stairs. The scent of her perfume drifted through his nostrils. His skin started to tingle. It had been a long time since that had happened.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said.

“It certainly doesn’t compare to yours.”

“Did you do it all yourself?”

“Most of it. I’m pretty handy.”

“Why don’t you come by tomorrow and we can talk about you doing some more work for me.”

“Ms. Savage—”

“Call me Catherine.”

“Catherine, you don’t have to buy my silence.”

“Around noon? I can have some lunch ready.”

Riggs gave her a searching look and then shrugged. “I can make that.”

As she started down the stairs, he called after her. “That guy in the Honda. Don’t assume he’s going to give up.”

She glanced back at the shotgun for one significant moment before settling her gaze on him.

“I never assume anything anymore, Matthew.”





“Well, it’s a good cause, John, and she likes to help good causes.” Charlie leaned back in his chair and sipped the hot coffee. He was sitting at a window table in the dining room of the Boar’s Head Inn, off Ivy Road a little west of the University of Virginia. Two plates held the remnants of breakfast. The man across from him beamed.

“Well, I can’t tell you how much it means to the community. Having her here — both of you — is just wonderful.” Wearing a costly double-breasted suit, with a colorful handkerchief dangling from the outer pocket and matching his polka-dot tie, the wavy-haired John Pemberton was one of the area’s most successful and well-connected real estate agents. He also sat on the boards of numerous charities and local committees. The man knew virtually everything that happened in the area, which was precisely the reason Charlie had asked him to breakfast. Further, the commission on the sale of LuAnn’s home had landed six figures in Pemberton’s pocket and he was, thus, an eternal friend.

Now he looked down at his lap and a sheepish grin appeared on his handsome features when he looked back up at Charlie. “We are hoping to actually meet Ms. Savage at some point.”

“Absolutely, John, absolutely. She’s looking forward to meeting you too. It’ll just take some time. She’s a very private person, you understand.”

“Of course, of course, this place is full of people like that. Movie stars, writers, people with more money than they know what to do with.”

An involuntary smile played across Pemberton’s lips. Charlie assumed the man was daydreaming about future dollars of commission when these wealthy folk moved in or out of the area.

“You’ll just have to live with my company for a little while longer.” A grin creased Charlie’s features.

“And very enjoyable company it is too,” Pemberton replied automatically.

Charlie put down his coffee cup and pushed his breakfast plate away. If he still smoked cigarettes he would’ve stopped to light one up. “We have Matt Riggs doing some work for us.”

“Putting in the security fence. Yes, I know. Undoubtedly his biggest job to date.”

Upon noting Charlie’s surprised look, Pemberton smiled in an embarrassed fashion. “Despite its cosmopolitan appearance, Charlottesville really is a small town. There is very little that happens that isn’t known by most people soon thereafter.”

At those words, Charlie’s spirits plummeted. Had Riggs already told someone? Had they made a mistake coming here? Should they have planted themselves amid the seven million residents of New York City instead?

With an effort, he shook off these numbing thoughts and plunged ahead. “Right. Well, the guy had some terrific references.”

“He does very good work, dependable and professional. He hasn’t been here all that long by the standards of most locals, about five years, but I’ve never heard a bad word said about him.”

“Where’d he come from?”

“Washington. D.C., not the state of.” Pemberton fingered his teacup.

“So he was a builder up there then?”

Pemberton shook his head. “No, he got his general contractor’s license after he got here.”

“Still, he could’ve apprenticed up there.”

“I think he had some natural talent for the trade. He’s a first-rate carpenter, but he apprenticed with Ralph Steed, one of our best local builders for two years. Ralph passed away about that time and that’s when Riggs went out on his own. He’s done very well. He’s a hard worker. And landing that fence job doesn’t hurt any.”

“True. Still, the guy just shows up in town one day and plunges into something new. That takes some balls. I mean I’ve met him, and it wasn’t like he would’ve been fresh out of college when he came here.”

“No, he wasn’t.” Pemberton looked around the small dining area. When he spoke next it was with a lowered voice. “You’re not the first person who has been curious about Riggs’s origins.”

Charlie leaned forward, adding to the conspiratorial image of the pair. “Is that right? What do we have here, a little local intrigue?” Charlie tried to make his tone appear light and unconcerned.

“Of course rumors come and go, and you know the questionable veracity of most of them. Still, I have heard from various sources that Riggs held some important position in Washington.” Pemberton paused for effect. “In the intelligence community.”

Behind the stone mask Charlie fought the urge to abruptly give back his breakfast. Although LuAnn had had the good luck to be one of the recipients of Jackson’s control of the lottery, she might have just matched that luck with a dose of incredibly bad fortune. “In intelligence, you say? Like a spy?”

Pemberton threw up his hands. “Who knows. Secrets are a way of life with people like that. Torture them and they won’t say a thing. Probably bite on their cyanide pill or whatever and go peacefully into the night.” Pemberton obviously enjoyed a touch of the dramatic mixed in with elements of danger and intrigue, particularly at a safe distance.

Charlie rubbed at his left knee. “I had heard he was a cop.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t recall. Just heard it in passing.”

“Well, if he was a policeman that’s something that can be checked. If he was a spy, there’d be no record of it, would there?”

“So he never talked to anyone here about his past?”

“Only in vague terms. That’s probably why you heard he was a policeman. People hear bits and pieces, they start to fill in the holes themselves.”

“Well, son of a gun.” Charlie sat back, trying hard to appear calm.

“Still, he’s an exceptional builder. He’ll do good work for you.” Pemberton laughed. “Just so long as he doesn’t start snooping around. You know if he was a spy, those habits probably die hard. I’ve led a pretty squeaky clean life, but everybody has skeletons in their closet, don’t you think?”

Charlie cleared his throat before answering. “Some more than others.”

Charlie leaned forward again, his hands clasped in front of him on the table; he was quite eager to change the subject and had the vehicle to do so. “John,” Charlie’s voice dipped low, “John, I’ve got a small favor to ask of you.”

Pemberton’s smile broadened. “Just ask it, Charlie. And consider it done.”

“A man came by the house the other day asking for a donation to a charitable foundation he said he headed.”

Pemberton looked startled. “What was his name?”

“He wasn’t local,” Charlie said quickly. “He gave me a name but I’m not sure it was his real one. It all seemed suspicious, you understand what I’m saying.”

“Absolutely.”

“Someone in Ms. Savage’s position has to be careful. There are a lot of scams out there.”

“Don’t I know it. How upsetting.”

“Right. Well, anyway, the guy said he was staying in the area for a while. Asked for a follow-up meeting with Ms. Savage.”

“I hope you’re not going to agree to that.”

“I haven’t yet. The guy left a phone number, but it’s not a local one. I called it. It was an answering service.”

“What was the name of the foundation?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but it had something to do with medical research of some kind.”

“That’s so easy to concoct,” Pemberton said knowingly. “Of course I have no personal experience with frauds like that,” he added huffily, “but I understand that there is a proliferation of them.”

“That was exactly my read. Well, to make a long story short, since the guy said he was going to be around awhile, I thought it probable that he was renting someplace hereabouts, instead of sacking out at a hotel. That gets to be expensive after a while, especially if you’re living scam to scam.”

“And you want to know if I can find out where he might be staying?”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t ask it if it weren’t real important. With things like this I’m never too careful. I want to know who I’m dealing with in case he shows up again.”

“Of course, of course.” Pemberton let out a shallow breath and sipped at his tea. “I’ll certainly look into it for you. My sympathies lie with you and Ms. Savage.”

“And we will be very grateful for any assistance you can give us. I’ve mentioned several of the other charities you head up to Ms. Savage and she spoke very positively about all of them and your work with them.”

Pemberton was glowing now. “Why don’t you give me a description of the man? I have the morning free and I can start my own little investigation. If he’s within fifty miles of here, with my connections, I’m certain I can find him.”

Charlie described the man, laid some cash on the table for the meal, and stood up. “We really appreciate it, John.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE




Thomas Donovan scanned the city streets for a parking spot. Georgetown was not known for its abundance of places to leave one’s vehicle. He was driving a new rental car, a late model Chrysler. He