“If there aren’t but a couple of people involved, I suspect she’s got a job to do. Since she doesn’t know that she’s a suspect and was sure she’d learned everything she could from Casey, she’s free to help out. What about the GPS tracker?”
“I got a pair of trackers and receivers. How are we going to get them planted?”
“LePointe’s security is first-rate,” Bond said.
“I have an idea,” Alexa said.
She unmuted the phone and put it against her ear. “Casey, I need to ask you if you are willing to do something for me. It’s important. It may also be risky.”
“Name it, Alexa,” Casey said.
60
Thirty minutes later, Casey appeared on the inside of the wrought-iron fence and Alexa handed her two half-dollar-sized disks. “They’re magnetized,” she said. “One for the Bentley and the other for Decell’s car, so we can cover either or both. You think you can attach them without being seen and get back inside without being detected?”
“God, I’ve sneaked out of that house a million times without getting caught,” Casey assured her. “They aren’t interested in what I’m doing. They’re making plans, or going over their plans. The note said the exchange would begin at nine, so I’m sure Unko will be leaving before then.” Casey reached out and took Alexa’s hand. Casey’s hand was warm and her touch warmed and assured Alexa.
“How will they contact him?” Alexa asked.
“Calling his cell phone. Unko’s supposed to come alone.”
“Will Decell be following along?”
“I don’t know how they’re doing it. I’m sorry. But Decell must be planning to go. Unko wouldn’t do it alone if it’s dangerous.”
Unless not doing it is more dangerous. “It doesn’t matter,” Alexa assured her. “Whichever car they use, we’ll be ready.”
“Okay. Will you call me as soon as it’s over?”
“Word of honor,” Alexa said.
Casey squeezed Alexa’s hand, released it, then turned and was gone.
61
Casey West threaded her way between the bushes surrounding the courtyard to reach the cars parked there. She moved cautiously, keenly aware of the guard stationed at the gatehouse and of the closed-circuit cameras that covered the grounds. There was a second guard walking the property and she’d have to watch out for him.
Kneeling, she planted the first of the devices under Ken Decell’s sedan to the frame, and after making sure it adhered to the steel, she scatted back into the foliage, to wait for the camera to take in the cars and sweep past to scan the portico.
As soon as the camera made its arc, she moved, stopping beside her Rover. Looking over the hood to check the camera’s position, she was ready to move to her uncle’s Bentley, when sudden light drew her eyes to the second guard, coming directly up the driveway toward her, a lit flashlight in his hand. She crouched down and froze. When the guard drew even with the back bumper of the Bentley, he stopped, and she flattened herself to the ground hastily. She heard a lighter click open and the odor of cigarette smoke reached her. The guard remained against the Bentley smoking, showing no sign of going anywhere any time soon.
As she squatted there she had an idea. Moving slowly to avoid making noise, she pocketed the bug and backed into the bushes. Swiftly she made her way back around the house, avoiding the other cameras, and the sensors that would turn on floodlights as she went. She made it to the door she had come out through, and slipped into the utility room, and from there, through the kitchen.
As she sneaked up the hallway, she noticed that her uncle and Ken Decell were still in the den, sitting together on a couch, Decell busily making diagrams and both men talking in hushed voices-exactly as they had been when she’d gone out to get the bugs. She moved farther up the hall and slipped into Unko’s office, where she went to a cabinet and opened the door to expose her uncle’s safe. He hadn’t changed the combination since she was a teenager and had found the combination while snooping in his office.
Once the heavy door swung open, she smiled as she saw the briefcase. She had guessed correctly that her uncle would have put the bonds there for safekeeping until it was time to take them on his errand.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked.
Casey quickly straightened up, her heart pounding. Her aunt stood in the doorway.
“Are you looking for candy?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Casey lied.
“It will make you fat,” Sarah said.
“Dancers have to watch their weight,” Casey replied. “You gain one ounce and you’re not a ballerina any longer.”
“Have you seen me dance?” her aunt asked.
“I love to see you dance,” Casey said.
“Watch this,” her aunt said, waving her arms wildly and moving her feet in what could only be described as an amazingly poor imitation of a tap routine.
Casey heard footsteps coming up the marble hall, and turned and slipped out the door she had come in through, just as her uncle’s voice boomed behind her. She didn’t dare close it for fear he’d hear the sound.
“Sarah, what in the world are you doing in my office?”
Casey listened, poised to retreat if she had to.
“Out of bounds,” he finished.
“Candy makes you fat,” she said. “We weren’t looking for candy.”
“We?” William asked. “Who’s we, Sarah?”
“The lady that comes here wasn’t looking for candy either.”
“What lady?”
“You know perfectly well. That lady from the audience,” Sarah said. “You’re being silly, aren’t you? You know her as well as I do. Rebecca.”
“Rebecca’s dead,” LePointe said.
“Was somebody really in here?” Decell’s voice asked.
“I am not telling you anything, Mister Redhead Man. Or you either, white-haired man!”
“It’s all right, darling. You don’t have to tell us anything. Where’s Angela? Angela!”
Casey heard the night maid’s voice. “Sorry, Dr. LePointe. I’m here. Miz LePointe, you best come on with me. She left out of the room while I had my back turned. I’ll take her back up to her room.”
“No harm done,” LePointe said.
Casey fled back to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and exhaled for the first time since she left the office. “Mission accomplished,” she whispered. Then she smiled.
62
From her vantage point across St. Charles Avenue, Alexa could see the LePointe mansion illuminated by floodlights, the front gate, and, parked beyond the intersection, Manseur’s Crown Victoria. She looked down at her passenger’s seat, at the scuffed-up NOPD laptop, which was set to the frequency of the trackers. She had turned the brightness down so the glow wouldn’t be apparent to the guard in the gatehouse. Alexa felt the familiar sense of excitement and anticipation growing inside her that she always got when the payoff was in sight-like a hunter watching a deer moving in the deep woods, making its way slowly to an exposed space in the trees.
Manseur’s computer had the same views of both tracker frequencies, and he and Larry Bond would be able to follow whichever vehicle Decell used. They had lucked out by having Casey plant the trackers, and Alexa just hoped their luck would hold awhile longer. In the event that both vehicles left, Alexa would follow LePointe. Decell would certainly follow LePointe somehow, and would be pissed that the cops were covering the transaction, because there was obviously something going on that his employer wanted to keep quiet. If the police timed their appearance, they’d have unfettered access to a diary, hopefully detailing LePointe’s crime-if such a diary indeed existed.
Alexa was startled by a sudden movement and turned to see Casey pulling open the passenger door.
“What’s going on?” Alexa asked.
“I sneaked out. I had to talk to you.”
“You could have phoned me. What if they miss you?”
“Relax, they won’t even know I’m gone. I didn’t get to put one of those bugs on the Bentley. A guard came. I had to go back inside.”