"Don't open it up there," Neal said. "Bring it down so we can all watch."
Oh, boy. Being the center of attention is something I like about as much as parties. Even so, I felt touched and pleased.
I delivered the glasses of wine, told Kerry where I was going-Sharon grinned when I mentioned the present-and then went upstairs. As I approached McCone's private office, I had the spare key in my hand. But I didn't need it. The door was closed but not locked.
That in itself didn't make me suspicious, but what I saw when I opened the door and walked in set off alarm bells in my head. A man spun around from in front of Sharon's desk-a blond man who didn't work for McCone Investigations, who gave me a frightened-deer look and seemed to teeter briefly on the edge of panic. Then he got a grip on himself, put on a weak smile. He was familiar-I'd seen him around the pier before. An employee of one of the other firms, the architects on the opposite catwalk. His name was Kennett or Bennett.
"You startled me," he said. "What're you doing here?"
"I'll ask you the same question."
"Sharon asked me to get something for her. If you'll excuse me..
He edged past where I stood, not making eye contact, one hand squeezed into the pocket of a pair of very tight leather pants. In other circumstances, or if he'd lingered a few more seconds, I would've restrained him; but I hesitated just long enough for him to get past me and out the door.
I followed as he hurried along the catwalk, close to the garland-festooned railing, his hand still in his pocket. Only fifty feet separated us when he reached the stairs; I had a clear look at him all the way down, but then the Model T Ford display cut off my view and the party swirl swallowed him.
I clambered down until I could once more see all of the pier floor. It was no more than fifteen seconds before I picked him out again. He stopped near some kind of trophy on a pedestal and joined a small group of people, making a gesture with the hand that had been in his pocket. Sharon McCone wasn't one of the group.
I spotted her nearby and made straight for her myself, keeping my eye on Leather Pants all the way.
McCone
I was standing with Ted and Neal when Wolf came hurrying up, a frown darkening his rugged Italian features. He wasn't carrying his present.
"How could he not find the package?" Ted said. "It's right in the middle of your desk."
Something told me the frown had nothing to do with being unable to locate a package. Quickly I moved to meet him.
"Did you send somebody up to your office besides me?" He was looking past me at something or someone.
"No. Why?"
"Well, I just surprised a man inside. Five-ten or so, blond hair, dressed in black leather pants and a thin-ribbed black sweater. I think he works for the architects-Bennett? Kennett?"
Now it was my turn to frown. "Tony Kennett." He was a draftsman for Chandler amp; Santos, had taken to hanging around our offices lately, trying to persuade my newest hire, Julia Rafael, to go out with him. Julia, who at twenty-five had been through more bad relationships than most women experience in a lifetime, had so far resisted. "Did you talk with him? Ask him what he was doing there?"
"He claimed you'd sent him up to get something. But he had a guilty, scared look. He all but ran out, and came down here. He's over by that trophy."
I looked around, spotted Kennett. He was talking to some people, but even at a distance he looked nervous.
One of my operatives, Craig Morland, had just joined us. He said, "Kennett's been in Julia's and my office damn near every day this week, trying to put the moves on her."
"I don't like or trust him," Ted added.
"Ted, you and Craig keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't leave the pier."
They nodded, and Craig said to Neal, "Find Julia, Mick, and Charlotte. Just in case we need them."
A good man, the former FBI agent; he didn't waste time with unnecessary questions.
I turned to Wolf. "Let's go upstairs, see what Kennett might've been after." My voice was heavy with foreboding; I had a good suspicion what it was.
"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" was playing as we climbed to the catwalk. The irreverent novelty song had always been a favorite of mine, but now I took no pleasure in it. We went along to my office. The door was slightly ajar, but Wolf had indicated he'd left it that way. We went in. The brightly wrapped package for Wolf still sat in the center of my desk, but the papers and files in my in-box had been disturbed.
"Dammit!" I exclaimed. I felt through the box's contents to where the disc containing the report on the building-inspection department should be.
Gone. My only copy.
"I knew it!"
"What's missing?" Wolf asked.
"Final report on that political case I've been working."
"The high-confidentiality one for City Hall?"
"Uh-huh. Kennett must've taken it. Unless we can get it back, it'll go straight into the wrong hands, and then there'll be a cover-up like this city's seldom seen."
"And we've seen some spectacular ones. How is Kennett involved?"
I didn't reply, because I'd spotted a key on the floor by my desk. Shiny new, as if it had just been cut by a machine at a hardware store. I picked it up, took my own office key out. They were a match.
"Now I'm sure it's Kennett," I said, holding up the key. "I run a pretty open shop here; the same key operates all the doors so staff members will have access to the other offices in case they need something. We trust each other, so we tend to trust the other tenants of the pier. Kennett's become something of a fixture here in the past week; simple enough for him to snag a key and have a copy made. And I think he's used it before, because three days ago our creaky old office safe was broken into."
"Anything taken?" Wolf asked.
I shook my head. "Not even my gun, which would be a natural for a common thief."
"You report it?"
"Ted did. There were no fingerprints on it except his and mine."
"Okay, but why was Kennett after the confidential report?"
I considered that, and then the answer came to me, filtered through a dim memory of an event nearly a year past. "Because he's a close friend of the city official I've been investigating-he was at the official's fortieth birthday party last January. Kennett's buddy must've found out there was an ongoing investigation and asked him to find out what I knew."
"Kennett must still have the disc on him."
"And we're going to get it back."
I led Wolf from my office, locking it after us like the proverbial barn door. We paused on the catwalk, surveying the crowd below. Kennett now stood near the bar, drink in hand, talking to someone else.
By the time we got down there, Kennett had moved to Santa's Village and was apparently admiring it. When he saw us he fidgeted and his eyes took on a flat, glassy look.
I said, "Where's the disc, Tony?"
"What disc?"
"The one you took from my office."
"I… don't know what you're talking about."
"Do you deny you were in my office around half an hour ago?"
"I certainly do."
I indicated Wolf. "Do you deny you told this man I'd asked you to go up there and get something?"
"I've never seen him before."
Beside me, I felt Wolf tense; a growly sound came from deep in his throat. "You're a liar and a thief both, Kennett," he said.
Kennett gulped what liquor remained in his plastic cup, seemed fortified by it. He set the cup on the display table, extended his arms dramatically. "So search me," he said loudly. "Go ahead!"
People were looking at us now. I studied Kennett's clothing. The leather pants were skin tight; the outline of a disc would have shown clearly. The same with the sweater. Somehow he'd gotten rid of it-somewhere in this cavernous pier that was honeycombed with hiding places.