“Would that include anything illegal? Like drugs?”
Drake’s face gave nothing away. “As I already told you, I don’t answer questions about my services.”
“Fair enough,” Frost replied. “How did you meet Denny?”
“Finding people who can deliver what I need is my job,” Drake told him. “I was looking for a yacht and a captain. I did my research, and Denny fit the bill. It was an arrangement that worked out well for both of us.”
“He must have been on the boat during meetings with some very private people,” Frost said.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Could that be why someone wanted to kill him?”
“Unlikely. I told you, Denny was discreet. As were the people he hired. We used nondisclosure agreements, and we paid well. I don’t know what happened to Denny, but I assume it was some kind of random street violence. It happens all too often in the city these days.”
Frost realized he was getting nowhere with Belinda Drake. She’d built a wall around herself and sat calmly behind it, flicking away his questions without giving him any real information. He was running out of time on her ten-minute clock. His only option was to bluff.
“What about the cruise on Tuesday?” Frost asked.
Drake was good, but this time he saw just the barest tightening of her lips. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have seen it. “Tuesday?”
“You booked a charter on Denny’s boat on Tuesday,” Frost said. He didn’t ask it like a question. He stated it as if he already knew. “That was the last time the boat went out. Denny walked away with a lot of cash. So did Carla, the woman he used as his hostess. She’s dead, too, like Denny. Did you know that?”
This time he spotted an overly long pause as Drake assessed how much he knew and figured out what to say. “I’ve already told you several times that I don’t talk about my work,” she reminded him. “That would include anything that happened on Tuesday.”
“In other words, you did set up the cruise,” he concluded.
Drake checked her watch and stood up impatiently. “Look at that, our time is up. I’m afraid I have to say good-bye, Inspector.”
Frost got up, too. He stepped closer, deliberately invading her personal space until he was only inches from her face. He finally had her off balance, and he wanted to keep her that way.
“I can leave if you want, Ms. Drake, but you have a problem.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
He held up his phone with the screen enlarged to show a close-up of the red snake he’d found near Coolbrith Park. The empty eyes of the snake stared at Drake, and its forked tongue flicked at her. The image drew a physical reaction that she couldn’t hide. She inhaled sharply, and her body tensed.
Frost leaned in and whispered right at her ear. “Lombard.”
Drake eyed the railing of the balcony that rose thirty stories above the street. She backed away toward the door leading into the condominium. Her face was tense, as if Frost had suddenly become a threat. “You need to leave right now, Inspector.”
“Tell me about Lombard. I can see that the name means something to you.”
“As far as I know, Lombard is the crookedest street in the world,” Drake replied with an unconvincing laugh. “That’s all.”
“I think it means more than that. Denny Clark warned me about Lombard while he was dying. I’d like to know why.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? Denny and Carla are both dead, Ms. Drake, and two of these red snakes showed up where their bodies were found. If their deaths have anything to do with that charter cruise on Tuesday, you should probably be asking yourself if you’re next. The best thing you can do is tell me everything you know and let me protect you.”
Drake tugged her leather jacket around her body in the wind. Her beret slipped off her head and tumbled toward the edge of the balcony. “Protect me,” she murmured so softly that he could barely hear her. “You’re funny.”
He showed her another photo. This one was a close-up of Denny’s dead face. “You said you liked Denny. This is what they did to him. He was poisoned. As for Carla, they cut her wrists and made it look like a suicide. Whatever is going on, whatever Lombard is, I can see that you’re scared and you don’t like it. The only way to make it stop is to help me. Give me something. Point me in the right direction.”
Drake squinted into the sky, as if she weren’t even safe from prying eyes outside. He glanced over his shoulder at the Transamerica building, which aimed toward the clouds like a giant laser. Behind the dark windows, anyone could have been watching them.
“Are you under surveillance?” he asked. “Is that what you’re concerned about?”
She didn’t answer.
He stared at her and said, “Am I?”
Drake slid a hand into one of the pockets of her leather jacket and extracted a fresh tube of lipstick. She touched up her lips, kissed them together, and then gave him an odd, inappropriate smile. “You’re right, Inspector, I liked Denny. And I wish you luck in your investigation. But I really can’t give you any information that would be helpful to you. I’m sorry.”
She closed the distance between them and shook his hand. Then she placed her left hand over the top of his, and he realized that the tube of lipstick was still clutched in her fingers. She scribbled something quickly on his hand and let go.
“Good-bye, Inspector. The butler will see you out.”
She disappeared inside the condominium. Frost slipped his hands into his pockets, took another long look over the edge of the balcony, and then followed her inside. Drake was already gone, but the butler was there to guide him back to the elevator. He waited until he was descending in the elevator car before he took out his right hand and saw what Belinda Drake had scrawled across his skin.
It was three words, barely legible.
Not a clue, but a warning.
Trust No One
13
Two hours after his meeting with Belinda Drake, Frost was back in his Suburban on his way to meet Herb in Golden Gate Park. That was when he noticed a charcoal-gray BMW on his tail. The car’s windows were smoked, so he couldn’t see the driver inside. He spotted it pulling away from the curb when he turned off Green Street onto Leavenworth, as if it had been waiting for him.
At first, he felt as paranoid as Coyle. The BMW stayed with him for several blocks, but that didn’t mean anything in the San Francisco traffic. Then he turned on Clay, and the BMW turned, too. When he turned again on Franklin, the car followed. They drove in tandem, but at the next stoplight, Frost timed his progress through the intersection to make sure the BMW had to stop behind him. He made several zigzag turns beyond the light to lose the other car in the maze of streets. By the time he headed south past Lafayette Park, he was sure he was alone.
That lasted two blocks.
Then the BMW appeared on his tail again. The driver behind the smoked windows wasn’t following him by sight; he already knew where Frost was.
Frost didn’t bother trying to lose the other car again. Instead, he headed south to Geary and turned right. He drove until he spotted a gas station on the street, where he pulled in and topped off his tank. The BMW disappeared, but Frost knew it wouldn’t be gone for long. At the pump, he purchased a drive-through car wash with an undercarriage spray, and he took the SUV through the wash, letting the jets of water hammer every inch of the chassis. If there was a GPS tracker hidden underneath the vehicle, he hoped it had been thoroughly drowned. Leaving the car wash, he made another series of quick turns with an eye on his rearview mirror.