still investigating,” Liza told him. “Look where he ended up.”
Buck shrugged. “Don’t knock it. He’s got a regular pay-check, probably a pension—and his own little kingdom to push people around in.”
Liza found herself remembering Oliver Roche’s proprietary way with the Skye Room. She looked up at Buck to find him smiling slightly. “Once a cop, always a cop,” he said. “Roche is dying to get into this investigation.” He nodded into the room, where a young detective stood with a notebook while Roche animatedly talked away. “They finally detained one guy to take his statement so the rest of them could do their jobs without Roche underfoot.”
It seemed that ploy had worked as long as it could. Now Detective Janacek came over to talk to Roche. The head of hotel security looked ready to try an argument, but the veteran cop got his way and even managed an affable handshake with Roche before sending him off.
“I wonder how long it’s going to stay friendly,” Buck muttered.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked.
“Like I said, he’s dying to get into this investigation. If he can’t get in with the cops, he’ll do it himself.” Buck turned to face Liza and all her friends. “This is going to be a high-profile case—the SINN people will make sure of that. If Roche manages to solve it, he may not get his job back, but he could probably land an investigative job somewhere.”
Roche proceeded to prove Buck right. He stepped out of the ballroom, his face so tight Liza suspected his teeth must be creaking. The first person he spotted was Babs Basset.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Roche said, stepping up to her. “I have a couple of questions—”
She stared down her nose at him as if an earthworm had suddenly addressed her. “Go away, you strange little man.”
And even though Roche topped her by a head, he did slink off, just like some shlubby strange little man.
“Damn, she’s good,” Buck muttered.
Roche moved away quickly, scanning for some other person to question. Of course, he spotted Liza. And then he spotted Buck Foreman.
The security manager came straight at Liza, giving her the sort of squinty-eyed glare that Clint Eastwood used to specialize in. “I’ve heard about your reputation, Ms. Kelly,” he said. “And let me warn you right now against injecting yourself into police business. That won’t be tolerated here.”
“Injecting?” Buck’s eyebrows rose as if in mild surprise. “You mean the way you’re doing?”
Liza thought that Oliver Roche’s face was wrapped about as tight as humanly possible. Watching the man’s muscles contort at Buck’s shot, she feared that Roche’s skull might implode.
“I maintain an excellent professional relationship with the local police,” he ground out. “I’m sure Detective Janacek will be glad for me to lend a hand.”
Buck dropped his light approach. “Listen, Roche, you ought to know there’s a difference between telling old war stories over a couple of beers and letting somebody interfere on a big case. When you were on the job, would you have done that, even for some retired guy?”
Roche growled deep in his throat. Then he spun on his heel and stalked off.
“Well,” Buck said, “I guess he didn’t have an answer for that.”
Liza frowned. “But I don’t think he’s going to thank any of us for witnessing it.”
Will Singleton came darting out of the crowd, so distracted he was chewing one end of his beard. “Liza!” he called as he came past. “I was just going to have someone call you. We finally have the plans firmed up for the makeup round.”
He nodded at the police still in the Skye Room. “There’s no hope of getting the large room back in time. So we’ll be using all of the other event rooms. They’re smaller, but they should accommodate everyone.”
“Sounds good to me,” Liza said, “but I’m guessing Charley Ormond is tearing her hair out, trying to spread all her camera crews
Buck shrugged. “Don’t knock it. He’s got a regular pay-check, probably a pension—and his own little kingdom to push people around in.”
Liza found herself remembering Oliver Roche’s proprietary way with the Skye Room. She looked up at Buck to find him smiling slightly. “Once a cop, always a cop,” he said. “Roche is dying to get into this investigation.” He nodded into the room, where a young detective stood with a notebook while Roche animatedly talked away. “They finally detained one guy to take his statement so the rest of them could do their jobs without Roche underfoot.”
It seemed that ploy had worked as long as it could. Now Detective Janacek came over to talk to Roche. The head of hotel security looked ready to try an argument, but the veteran cop got his way and even managed an affable handshake with Roche before sending him off.
“I wonder how long it’s going to stay friendly,” Buck muttered.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked.
“Like I said, he’s dying to get into this investigation. If he can’t get in with the cops, he’ll do it himself.” Buck turned to face Liza and all her friends. “This is going to be a high-profile case—the SINN people will make sure of that. If Roche manages to solve it, he may not get his job back, but he could probably land an investigative job somewhere.”
Roche proceeded to prove Buck right. He stepped out of the ballroom, his face so tight Liza suspected his teeth must be creaking. The first person he spotted was Babs Basset.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Roche said, stepping up to her. “I have a couple of questions—”
She stared down her nose at him as if an earthworm had suddenly addressed her. “Go away, you strange little man.”
And even though Roche topped her by a head, he did slink off, just like some shlubby strange little man.
“Damn, she’s good,” Buck muttered.
Roche moved away quickly, scanning for some other person to question. Of course, he spotted Liza. And then he spotted Buck Foreman.
The security manager came straight at Liza, giving her the sort of squinty-eyed glare that Clint Eastwood used to specialize in. “I’ve heard about your reputation, Ms. Kelly,” he said. “And let me warn you right now against injecting yourself into police business. That won’t be tolerated here.”
“Injecting?” Buck’s eyebrows rose as if in mild surprise. “You mean the way you’re doing?”
Liza thought that Oliver Roche’s face was wrapped about as tight as humanly possible. Watching the man’s muscles contort at Buck’s shot, she feared that Roche’s skull might implode.
“I maintain an excellent professional relationship with the local police,” he ground out. “I’m sure Detective Janacek will be glad for me to lend a hand.”
Buck dropped his light approach. “Listen, Roche, you ought to know there’s a difference between telling old war stories over a couple of beers and letting somebody interfere on a big case. When you were on the job, would you have done that, even for some retired guy?”
Roche growled deep in his throat. Then he spun on his heel and stalked off.
“Well,” Buck said, “I guess he didn’t have an answer for that.”
Liza frowned. “But I don’t think he’s going to thank any of us for witnessing it.”
Will Singleton came darting out of the crowd, so distracted he was chewing one end of his beard. “Liza!” he called as he came past. “I was just going to have someone call you. We finally have the plans firmed up for the makeup round.”
He nodded at the police still in the Skye Room. “There’s no hope of getting the large room back in time. So we’ll be using all of the other event rooms. They’re smaller, but they should accommodate everyone.”
“Sounds good to me,” Liza said, “but I’m guessing Charley Ormond is tearing her hair out, trying to spread all her camera crews