Free Scottsdale Heat: a romantic light-hearted murder mystery (Laura Black Mysteries Book 1) by B A Trimmer Page B

about organized crime were rare in Scottsdale. The family’s activities were usually kept well below the public radar. Tony DiCenzo ran crime in the city like a business and everybody got their share.
    “I take it you saw Sternwood make a sale at the Tropical Paradise,” Reno said. “When was this?”
    “Yesterday, about noon.”
    Reno pulled his cop notebook from his back pocket. He flipped a few pages, then looked up at me. His face had an odd expression.
    “When your guy was at the Tropical Paradise, who’d he make the sale to?”
    “At first there was just a woman there. Then a man showed up. He got there just after Alex arrived.”
    The man,” Reno asked. “What did he look like?”
    “Umm, he was medium height and thin. Somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty. He looked like he worked out a lot. He had a short blonde hair, a gray beard, and moustache. He was businesslike, but the guy gave me the creeps. He had these small watery eyes and the lids were red, like he had allergies or something.”
    Dominic brought the lunches to the table. The wonderful aromas wafting up from the plates reminded me how hungry I was. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, each attending to business.
    “The woman who works there is named Ingrid Shanker,” Reno said between bites. “She isn’t so much involved with the high-end fencing, more of a bookkeeper. The man you saw is most likely Albert Reinhart. He’s better known as the Iceman. He spends most of his time in Europe, but is known to come into the U.S. two or three times a year. Usually to Palm Springs or Scottsdale. His specialty is jewelry and fine art, usually acting as a middleman. He has a reputation for being an honest broker for his clients. He can spot a fake within seconds and apparently won’t let a client pay money for something not genuine; at least that’s what we hear.”
    “So how do you know so much about this guy?” I asked. “You sound like freakin’ Google.”
    “It’s funny you ran into him,” Reno said, ignoring me. “We knew he came into town last week for what was supposed to be a major buy. Word had it he was going to be a middleman on something special. I was on a team monitoring him when the deal seemed to fall apart. Reinhart’s usual MO is to come into town in the morning, conduct business, and then leave that same night. Instead, he just checked into the Scottsdale Princess resort and has spent a week golfing and laying by the pool. It’s possible he just came here for a vacation, but I doubt it. I think something went wrong.”
    “But what about my guy?” I asked. “Is it possible Reinhart came into Scottsdale for a buy with Alex?”
    “We’ve had people shadowing Reinhardt since he came into town last week. Our guys saw him meeting with an unknown man at the art gallery at the Tropical Paradise yesterday, possibly even making a minor buy. They’re in the process of tracking him down, but I’ll let them know it was your guy Alexander.”
    “Why didn’t they stop the buy?”
    “It was the detective’s judgment it wasn’t important enough to interfere in or even call for backup. You can tell when something big is going down and our guys didn’t think this was it. It’s doubtful the Iceman flew here for Alexander. He only deals in amounts above a million dollars, usually over ten. Unless your guy had a suitcase full of merchandise, the Iceman didn’t come here for him. We know Reinhardt always leaves the country immediately after his buy goes down. Since he’s still here, we’re assuming it hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps he took on Alex as a spur of the moment thing, or maybe his main deal fell through and he was looking for something to make the trip worthwhile, who knows?”
    “If you have people on Reinhart, that still doesn’t explain why didn’t you go after him when he bought from Alex?”
    “You know how this works,” Reno said, his tone patient. “You never go after a big fish unless you catch him