He leaned against the glass doors of the jewelry shop and pondered the copper-haired beauty inside. She had a wholesome look about her, even as she pointedly ignored his presence. The tailored gray suit hugged her trim shape with clean lines while her hair was sleeked back from her face and twisted and pinned neatly at the back. One tidy little package, and he already suspected she’d be as cool and refined as the icelike gems sparkling in every glass case.
A practical, businesslike gal, his own counterpart in silk and lace, she positioned a glittering necklace on a display. He blew the steam clear of his drink, admiring her efficient precision. Lace might be too frilly for her, maybe she was more of a leather kind of person.
Man, the guys at the station were right-he needed to get out more.
Another sip of tea fortified him enough to rap on the glass, and his training helped keep the smile from his face when she glared at him. He had no trouble reading her lips as she mouthed her response.
“We open at ten.”
Cushy hours. Too bad he worked a job that stayed open twenty-four/seven. He rapped again before fishing inside his jacket for his badge while she marched toward the door.
Muffled by the glass, her words still carried to him in syllables as neatly manicured as her long pink nails.
“We don’t open until ten, can’t you read the sign?” She pointed an expressive finger-he doubted it was the one she’d really like to use-at the sign hanging near his head.
He flopped his wallet open at eye level. “Read this.”
Seeing the police badge didn’t seem to frighten her, instead she huffed and unlocked the deadbolt on the giant glass panes. “I’ve told you guys time and again I don’t buy second-hand stuff.”
“I’m sorry?” He sipped his tea before entering the shop. “You make it sound like we pop by every day.”
She relocked the door behind him and leaned against it. “Not every day, but practically. I’m not a fence, I don’t buy stolen goods, and I don’t misrepresent my work.”
He’d been wrong about her hair. The white-hot halogen lights in the store brightened it to a coppery sheen, but it was more of a bronze color, a golden red with metallic glints. Her eyes were much the same, golden brown, and flashing anger at him now.
“Before you get really worked up, I’m not here about stolen goods.” Well, not exactly. “I’m Detective Hunter, with LVMPD Homicide. Are you Iris Fortune?”
Her eyes widened, lost that spark of adversity. “Homicide? Yes, yes.”
“Is Cosmo Fortune your father?”
“Oh, God, no,” she whispered. Both hands pulled in toward her stomach as if nauseated.
While Justin empathized with her distress, he needed answers-the faster, the better. He set his tea on a display case twinkling with fiery jewels before retrieving a small notebook from his breast pocket. “Are you saying Cosmo Fortune is not your father?”
“What? No, I mean, yes, he was-is my father.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He scribbled an unintelligible mark on his pad. He always committed these kinds of interviews to memory, but the note-taking lulled witnesses and suspects into paying less attention to him. Meanwhile, every nuance of body language verified or negated their stories.
Like now, when her one hand crept up to her breastbone. A gesture of concern, it told him she was worried about her father. Which led to a bigger question-did she know what he was up to?
“I need to find him. Do you have any idea where he is?”
She looked up. “Where he-you mean he’s not dead?”
Justin used the end of his pencil to scratch the back of his scalp. “I shouldn’t think so, unless you know something I don’t.” He shot her a polite smile. “Do you?”
“What kind of twisted game are you playing?” Her nervousness melted away and the pissy businesswoman returned in its stead. A shame, she was much more appealing when she was nervous.
“Miss Fortune, I don’t play games. I’m heading up a homicide investigation, and I need to find Cosmo Fortune. Anything you can tell me will be much appreciated.”
“Don’t you need a body for a homicide investigation?”
“I’ve got one of those. An older gentleman, about the age of your father and, oddly enough, found last night at the wheel of your dad’s car.”
“Cosmo must have loaned his car to someone.” She swallowed, then cocked a hip against a pedestal holding a glass vase. “I hate the thought of a car accident.”
“The car was parked. This accident involved bullets.”
Her posture faltered but she recovered quickly. “How horrible. The man who died-who was he?”
“We don’t have a positive ID on the victim yet. His pockets were empty.” Justin reclaimed his tea and strolled around the case to examine the jewelry pieces, allowing her time to fully collect herself. “How many people might Cosmo let borrow his car?”
She choked out what might have been a laugh. “Everybody and anybody.”
“That’s not much help.” The fact that she viewed him as a foe and not a friend all but shouted she knew more than she was telling. “Where were you last night?”
Her tongue licked across her lips again. “Me? I attended a political fundraiser with my fiancé, David Grantham.” She dropped the name like it was a Get Out of Jail Free card.
Close. Grantham had a lot of clout with the mayor’s office and city council. Didn’t hurt that he worked in the biggest law firm in town.
“That’s right, there was that big party at the Venetian last night. So, Grantham can verify you were there?”
“Verify-what, like I need an alibi? For what?”
“No offense. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And why are you looking for Cosmo?” She strode toward the door.
Justin followed. “Your father is being sought in connection with this case. We believe he can shed some light on the situation, either as a witness or as a suspect.”
Iris Fortune drew her brows together like he’d sprouted wings and might leap into flight at any minute. “A suspect?”
“We found a body in his car, and your father’s disappeared.”
To his surprise, she laughed. “Detective, my father’s been disappearing since I was a little girl. There’s nothing sinister about that.”
Somehow, the brittle quality of her laugh told him differently.
“Believe it or not, I hear that every day.” Justin tucked the notebook away. “So many times the people who defend their loved ones have been totally fooled.”
“I know Cosmo.” Tawny eyes reflected her convictions.
“You don’t refer to him as Dad or Father.”
“If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s not exactly a father figure.”
“So, you can’t offer any insights on where he might be, or why he disappeared?”
Her tongue touched her upper lip as if she might say something, but she seemed to reconsider and shook her head instead. “Off the top of my head, no. Tell you what, give me your card, and if I think of something, I’ll call you.”
Justin knew she was lying but he wasn’t ready to say so to her face yet. He fished a card from his pocket. “I’ll tell you what, come down to the precinct at four this afternoon. We’ll have some photos we’d like you to go through, see if you recognize anyone.”
Her shoulders dropped as if he’d trapped her into a date to the prom. “I doubt I’m going to be able to tell you much of anything. I rarely hang out with Cosmo these days.”
“That’s all right. Between you and your sisters, maybe you’ll come up with something we need.”
Iris tilted her head to eye him suspiciously. “What sisters?”
“Your two stepsisters or half sisters or whatever. You know, Cosmo’s other daughters.”
Her nervousness reappeared, softening the planes of her face. Distrust-and fear-glinted in her eyes. “You’ve got it wrong, Detective. I’m an only child.”