Cole knew the agent was correct, but it still gave them little to go on.

Cally poked her head in the door, interrupting the meeting, a look of apology written all over her face. "Excuse me, Chief, but there's a call for Cole."

"You couldn't have said that over the intercom?" John asked.

She shrugged.

"I'll take it in my office. If you two will excuse me, I'll be back in a few."

Cole walked out of the office, shut the door, and placed an arm around Cally's shoulder. "How did you know?"

She smiled back at him. "I know you. Besides, you really do have a call, lin e two. They found the Stanton girl's car."

Cole withdrew his arm and hurried down the hall, yelling a quick thanks to the secretary before slamming his door behind him.

Cole picked up the receiver and tapped the b.u.t.ton to line two. "Lieutenant K incaid here," he said into the phone.

"Lieutenant, this is Officer Johnson from the fifth precinct. We found Victor ia Stanton's car, license plate, TORI."

"Where at?"

"There's a club called the Agora-"

"I know the place. Have you brought it in yet?"

"We had it towed. The manager noticed it had been sitting in the parking lot..

.thought he better report it."

"Hold the car for fingerprinting. I'll send someone over to pick it up. Do you have the manager's home address?"

After getting the information from the officer and thanking him for the help, Cole grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the back of the station.

"Tell the chief I had something to attend to," he called out to Cally, who wa s watching him with interest.

There was no way in h.e.l.l he would take the agent with him on this one. This case still belonged to him.

Chapter 26.

Cole parked the detective's sedan along the curb as he walked to the porch of a house badly in need of a paint job. Obviously, being the manager of th e Agora paid little or this man cared nothing about material possessions. H e rapped twice on the wooden-screened door then waited for the occupant to answer his call.

Within seconds, a man of average height approached the other side of the scr een. He appeared neatly kept though his blond hair hung well past his collar . Cole estimated his age to be somewhere near mid to late thirties.

"What can I do for you?" the man growled through the closed door. With his wary look, Cole knew he was not about to be invited in.

Cole withdrew his wallet from his pocket and flipped open the leather cove r, presenting the man his badge. "Lieutenant Cole Kincaid with the Fairvie w Police. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you concerning the car you called in. Do you have a few moments?"

"Darling, what is it?" came from behind him.

Cole spotted a shorter African-American woman standing in the background.

Probably in the doorway of the kitchen, he a.s.sumed. She was slender and ve ry beautiful. The man turned around briefly, told her he would be right ba ck, then stepped onto the porch beside Cole, offering him a seat on the wo rn bench.

"What do you need to know?" he asked, his tone impatient.

"Just answer my questions and I'll be out of your hair before you know it,"

Cole said as he withdrew a pad and pencil. "When did you first notice the ca r in the parking lot?"

"Monday evening, I guess." The man shrugged, looking up and down the stree t nervously. "Look, I really don't want any trouble. And I already told ev erything I know to the other officer who picked up the car."

"Now tell me." By his actions, Cole would bet this man was involved in more than just running a night club, but he was not here to make a.s.sumptions on another possible case, besides-it belonged to another jurisdiction. "I'll wrap this up as quickly as possible. You say you noticed the car Monday eve ning. Why wait until Friday to call it in?"

The man leaned forward on the bench and placed his elbows on his knees, cl asping his hands in front of him. "Lots of people park their cars in the l ot, go away a couple of days. We don't charge for parking. Know what I mea n?"

Cole nodded and allowed the man to continue.

"Anyway, I had to go into the club this morning-I left something behind the n ight before-and I notice the car still sitting there." He took a deep breath, then went on, "I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have called."

"You did the right thing, Mr. Rieser."

"Why? Is the car involved in a crime or something?"

"Not the car. The owner. We found her murdered and dumped on her father's front lawn."

"The mayor's daughter? Jesus! I read about that in the paper. Have you caug ht the guy yet?"

"No, but we're hoping for some physical evidence to turn up on her car, thoug h it's not likely we'll find any."

"Why would you say that?"

"By the looks of things, she probably got in the subject's car willingly, leav ing her car behind."

A car drove past the house slowly, the occupants glanced at Phil and Cole as they sat on the front porch, then picked up speed and turned the corner dow n the block.

"Someone you know?" Even though his eyes told a different story, Phil Rieser shook his head.

Cole had no time to pursue the subject, so he continued his line of question ing. He was in a hurry to be on his way, anxious to retrieve the Stanton veh icle and have it gone over with a fine-tooth comb.

"Have you been managing the Agora long enough to compile a list of peopl e who might have been there on Sat.u.r.day night?"

"That's our busiest night, but I suppose I could come up with some names."

"Do you recall seeing Victoria Stanton there on the night in question?" Cole asked.

"Tori was there-one of our regulars."

"See her talking to anyone suspicious?"

"Everyone there could be deemed suspicious, Lieutenant." Phil's expression grew restless.

"If you knew Tori , then why did you not recognize her car? Especially with the license plates bearing her name?"

Cole could tell this man would not offer information unless asked. He would have to be careful to check under every rock or wind up leaving a possible stone unturned.

"Many people are regulars to the club, Lieutenant. I recognize a lot of faces and names, but I don't know what kind of cars they drive. As far as the plat es go-I didn't pay attention. I saw the car from across the street; I didn't get close enough to read them."

Cole felt in his gut that Phil Rieser might just be another dead end. But all leads had to be investigated to their fullest on the notion this one time his instincts proved to be dead wrong. " Dragonslayer play Sat.u.r.day?"

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously. "Why?"

"I ask the questions, Mr. Rieser; you answer." Cole rose from his seat, shoo k Phil's hand and said, "I may need to speak with you again. But for now, dr op the list off at the Fairview Park Police Department, attention Lieutenant Kincaid, ASAP. Drop it by today if at all possible. I have a few more witne sses to question and I'd appreciate it if it were at the station when I got back."

"I'll get to it right away."

The man stood as Cole descended the steps and headed for his car. Cole hea rd the screen door slam against the wood frame behind him as Phil entered his home.

Half an hour later, he pulled the sedan into his normal parking spot at th e Westgate House Apartments and got out. Cole walked to the door, found it unlocked and thanked his lucky stars Damien Vincent was at home.

Halfway through a frozen dinner, Damien looked up as Cole entered the room.

Damien set the cardboard tray aside and rose from his sitting position, grasped his discarded long-sleeved tee, and yanked it over his head.

"What brings you by? You normally don't come home for lunch," Damien state d, heading for the kitchen. Cole followed him without saying a word. "I th ink there's another dinner in the freezer if you want."

Damien grasped a gla.s.s from the cupboard, filled it with tap water then turn ed around in time to receive the blow from Cole's fist. Blood splattered his face as the sound of a bone snapping filled the quiet air between them. The gla.s.s of water flew from Damien's hands and crashed to the floor, sending s hards of gla.s.s everywhere.

"Jesus! What the h.e.l.l was that for?" Damien swore, grasping the affected a rea. "d.a.m.n, I think you broke my nose."

Cole grasped a towel, wet it beneath the faucet and handed it to the longhaired singer. "I hope it doesn't hurt your voice any-after all, that's all that matter s, isn't it?"

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?" Damien mopped his face with the towel . "s.h.i.t! It'll be swollen for days!"

"You're lucky that's all you got. Lord knows you deserve more." Cole open ed the refrigerator and withdrew a loaf of bread and a bowl of fresh made chicken salad.

"Would you mind telling me what the h.e.l.l this is all about?" Damien remov ed the towel and Cole saw that Damien's nose had already begun to swell.

Cole used the knife he put mayonnaise on his sandwich with to point at Damie n's nose, and said, "You better just hope you don't get two shiners out of t hat as well." Then he slapped the two slices of bread together and took a bi te, leaning back against the counter, staring at Damien.

"Well?" the singer prodded.

"Cindy VanWarren took her life Monday after you so callously dumped her. I found her last night floating in her bathtub where she had sliced her wrist s three days prior."

Damien's face went blank as he stared at Cole. He pulled out a kitchen stool and sat onto the padded top as he looked to the linoleum. "G.o.d, you're not kidding."

"I'm afraid not. I spent the entire night soothing Laurie over the tragedy."

Damien's gaze snapped back to Cole's at the mention of Laurie's name. "Sh e's the reason you didn't come home last night?"

"She's taking the news pretty hard. And the irony is that she's blaming you."

Damien's face flushed red. "This isn't my fault."

"No, it's not. Cindy was an unstable person; you can't be blamed for that."

"But Laurie?"

" She needs someone to blame. You just get to be the lucky candidate," Cole said, taking another bite of his sandwich. Damien narrowed his eyes. He gingerly touched his now fat nose.

"And that's from Laurie. Had she been here, I'm sure she would have done th e honors." Cole smiled sarcastically.

"So you're telling me you came home for lunch to deliver a punch?" Damien's voice rose with his agitation. "s.h.i.t, I'll probably have to cancel tonight's gig."

"That's all it's about for you, isn't it? Whether or not you get to sing and pick up a few chicks. h.e.l.l, you obviously have no problem forgetting Cindy,"

Cole spat in distaste.

"Look, I feel bad that she...died. I had no way of knowing. But even had I kno wn..." his voice trailed off as he glanced at the floor.

"What? You wouldn't have changed a thing? d.a.m.n, Damien, you are cold."

His gaze centered on Cole's. Something close to regret lurked within them.

"Was I suppose to stay with Cindy the rest of my life to keep her from do ing anything stupid? Christ, Cole, what would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have left her to go out with her best friend. That's not the only reason I'm here, I have a few other questions to ask you."

"About?"

Cole reached for a few ice cubes from the freezer, placed them in a Ziploc b ag, and handed it to Damien. "I think we better go into the living room."

Cole sat across from Damien with his note pad out and a pencil at the ready.

He glanced at his notes then at Damien who sat in the recliner holding the ice bag over his nose.