Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set

by Jamie Lee Scott

  Cortnie complied, not at all hesitant.

  “Meet Lola, your new best friend. Just say, ‘Lola, touch.’”

  Cortnie said, “Lola, touch.”

  Lola leapt from her sitting position and snagged the treat from Cortnie’s palm. It was a swift, yet gentle movement, and I had to give her credit for not flinching. She obviously trusted Charles implicitly.

  Charles turned and looked at me. “See, I told you Cortnie was a gem.”

  The phone rang just then, and Cortnie answered it. Lola trotted over to her and rested her chin on Cortnie’s lap. All was good in the Gotcha Detective Agency world.

  “One moment, please.” Cortnie put the call on hold. “It’s Richard Clinton from HCM.”

  “I’ve got it.” I rushed to my office, grabbing Charles by the arm.

  “I don't need to be there. I've briefed Cortnie on everything she needs to know. She'll be fine.” He stood his ground.

  “Charles, you are sitting in on this call. It won’t last that long and you’re the expert with the technology we’ll be using.”

  Charles grabbed Cortnie’s hand. “You need to join us. This is the case you've been reading about. We'll probably be using your surveillance equipment.”

  Cortnie grabbed her iPad ® and joined us in my office.

  I pressed the speaker button on my phone. Mr. Clinton got right to the point.

  “I wanted to let you know that I’ve talked to our board, and we’ve decided to listen to your plan of attack.” He sounded much younger than his sixty-five years.

  Clinton was the president of Hewes Chemical Management, or HCM Incorporated, a national chemical company. He suspected that chemicals were missing from his local warehouses and was considering using our agency for surveillance.

  I looked at Charles, who knew the details of the equipment we planned to use, but he just looked back at me. He really wasn’t going to participate in this call.

  “Mr. Clinton, I have Charles Parks, and another detective, Cortnie Criss, in here with me.”

  “Hello, Mr. Clinton, I’m Cortnie Criss.” She sounded classy and sure of herself, and I liked that.

  Cortnie had been hired to replace Gemma, who was a junior detective with our agency. Gemma had found true love and moved across the country, all in a matter of days. Cortnie’s expertise was in video surveillance, so this case was right up her alley.

  I was pretty sure Charles hadn’t had time to get her up to speed on this account, as he hadn’t even remembered the call.

  “Charles updated me on the situation this morning. So you think your local vice-president is padding his yearly bonus with chemicals from your company?” she said.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Clinton said. “The inventory numbers seem to be fine, but the barrels in the warehouse don’t seem to match the numbers on the page. Then, when I mentioned it, the barrels were suddenly there again. So I dropped the inquiry, hoping that with enough time I’d see another discrepancy. Last week, something was off again.”

  “From what I have here,” Cortnie looked at her iPad®, tapped and slid her fingers across the screen, then looked up. “It’s been six months since the first inquiry.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “So, the chemical in question is methylamine chloride? Mr. Clinton, you know what this chemical is used for, right?”

  I sucked in my breath. Did she really just ask the president of an international chemical company if he knew what his product was used for?

  “Ms. Criss, I know exactly what it’s used for.” He didn’t sound miffed, or insulted. “I also know what it’s used for illegally.”

  “I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page. I understand that you know its use in pesticides, pharmaceuticals, and such. Now I know you know it’s used to make methamphetamine, too.”

  “I just don’t know who would be stealing it from my warehouses. My employees are very well compensated. I don’t see why any of them would have a need to supplement their income with illegal activities.”

  We all looked at each other and rolled our eyes. People in high places could be so naïve. It’s human nature to be greedy; enough is never enough. And the person the world sees may not be the real deal. I’m constantly amazed at what people do behind closed doors.

  “One can never be sure of another’s motives, sir.” Cortnie typed on her iPad ®.

  “We can’t let anyone in the facility know that we are investigating, correct?” I asked.

  “I’m just not sure who I can trust, so no.” Clinton sounded tense.

  “That's not a problem. We can go to the facility late at night and set up our equipment. No one needs to know we were there,” Cortnie offered.

  “And how do you expect to get in?” Clinton inquired.

  Cortnie was nonplussed. “We can break in, or you can provide us with entry. There is always a way to bypass the security system and not let anyone know the perimeter has been breached.”

  “You sound like someone I wouldn’t want to cross.” Mr. Clinton’s voice was a bit less strained.

  “Who, me?” Cortnie laughed. “All in a day’s work. I’d never use my skills for personal gain.”

  “When would you like us to start?” I asked.

  "The sooner, the better. I just have to figure a way to get you past our security. We have doormen, and video twenty-four seven." The edge in Mr. Clinton's voice bothered me.

  “No problem. I’ll go in late tonight or early in the morning. I just need a copy of the building’s floor plan. Can you email them to me in an attachment?” Cortnie knew her stuff.

  “I’ll have my assistant do that right away.”

  "Can your assistant be trusted?" I inquired.

  "Absolutely. I’m going to tell her it’s for a possible expansion. Do you have a personal email, not the agency one, that I can give her?"

  Cortnie gave him her personal email address, and said, “Perfect. I’ll look over the plans, and I’ll need the information about the security in the building, so I can figure out how to bypass it. The sooner you get this to me, the better prepared I’ll be.” Cortnie looked at me and smiled.

  “We’ll also need personnel files. We’ll need to look into the background of your employees at that location. Are the files digital?” I said.

  “I don’t know how I’ll get that to you. If I have my assistant do it, she’ll be suspicious. I trust her, but she doesn’t have access to the human resources files.”

  Cortnie said, “Human resources can be told that we are doing a labor audit. I can send a formal letter, but usually, there is a long period of time between the notification and the audit.”

  “We can call HR and tell them we are inquiring as to why we haven’t received the files yet, claiming we sent the request more than a month ago.” I was thinking aloud.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Clinton said. “If you can dummy up some paperwork, I’ll run it to HR and tell them my assistant brought it to my attention. I’ll ask that the files be sent to me, and I’ll forward them.”

  “It’s not normal protocol, but we can try to make it work,” Cortnie said. “Of course, all of this will take some time.”

  “Mr. Clinton, this is Charles Parks. Cortnie is one of the developers of the equipment we’ll be using to investigate, which is state of the art. Most P.I. agencies couldn’t afford this quality, but we are lucky to have the equipment and the developer. You’re in good hands.”

  "Thank you so much, Mr. Parks."

  "Mr. Clinton, may I ask, what made you decide to choose Gotcha Detective Agency? There are plenty of agencies closer to San Francisco." Something about this case bothered me.

  "Oh, believe me, Ms. Capurro, I've spent the last six months doing my homework, and you come very highly recommended."

  Charles glared at me as if to say, “Are you trying to ruin this?”

  Cortnie saved the moment. “Mr. Clinton, I’m going to put you on hold for just a moment while I go back to my desk. I want to
get a little more information from you. Is that okay?”

  He agreed, and Cortnie stood to leave.

  “Great job, Cortnie. I hope we can pull it off as well as you described it.”

  Cortnie smiled. She had a genuine smile with beautiful, not quite perfect teeth, and I saw warmth in it. “We’ll do better than just pull it off. This is my forte. I couldn’t have started working for you at a better time.”

  “I have to agree. So glad to have you.”

  As we were saying our goodbyes, my breath caught, because Nick was standing in the doorway. Charles looked to see what I was gawking at, grinned, and left the room.

  I pulled myself together and went to greet him. Not much I could do about how I looked, though I did want to do a butt check as I walked around the desk. Did I look too fat in these pants? No, I’d be okay; it’s why I wear black.

  How many weeks had it been? Nick looked as good as the last time I saw him: his black hair, just a bit long with unruly waves, the twinkle in his gray eyes when he smiled, and the way he wore khakis and a polo shirt made me want to jump him. But I was going to be cool, way too cool, and never let him know just how good he looked.

  “Damn, my man, don’t you look hot in Thursday casual?” Charles nearly drooled.

  I guess I didn't have to tell him just how good he looked after all. Charles did it for me.

  Nick looked at me and smiled. From his face, you’d think we’d just spoken yesterday. It was familiar and friendly. Mine, on the other hand, was not. He’d let one day at a time turn into one week at a time, and I was still waiting to see where we were headed after a few weeks.

  I had to be realistic where Nick was concerned. We’d never been very good in the relationship department, at least not with each other. In college, we hooked up for a good time, or to lick our wounds from other relationships that had gone bad. My core heated just at the thought of having sex with Nick. We’d been good in bed. Not that we ever used a bed. Oh, wait, did I say that? We may have used a bed once or twice. I’m not promiscuous, but I am weak where that man is concerned. He could probably talk me into cheating on my spouse, if I had one.

  “You look good as always,” Nick said, looking at me.

  Charles answered, “Thanks.”

  Nick rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, Charles does look good, doesn’t he? And thank you.” I laughed. It was going to be a long day, so I’d better make the best of it.

  “I’m ready when you are.” Nick was definitely addressing Charles this time.

  “Sweet. I have my bags packed and in my car.” Charles then snapped at me, “Ready?”

  “You’re sure this won't interfere with our surveillance tonight?” With Charles, everything was on his agenda, not mine.

  “Positive. You're just helping set up and if there's time, we can go to the hospitality party.”

  I walked out to the reception desk. “Cortnie, is there anything I can do for you before we leave?”

  “No, I think I have everything I need. If I have any questions, I'll give you a call.”

  “You have a bag packed?” Nick asked me.

  “I always have a bag packed.” I looked pointedly at Charles. “Will you excuse me?”

  I went to the kitchen to rinse out my coffee cup and put it in the sink. Just then, Lola appeared in the room. I opened the pantry and grabbed the bag of dog food. Lola liked the small kibbles, not the big dog chunks. I poured a heaping cup into her dish next to the refrigerator, patted her on the head and said, “Don’t be too much of a pain for Jackie.” She grabbed a mouthful and trotted off to leave little piles of dog food around the house.

  Jackie hadn’t arrived for work yet, but she was used to taking Lola for a couple of days at a time. This was perfect, because Jackie’s twins loved Lola, and she loved them. They’d watch Lola even if Jackie had a stakeout.

  I heard Nick yelling from the front of the house. “Hey, Mimi, let’s go.”

  “Ugh,” I said, quietly. Thank goodness I’d have an hour and a half during the drive to chastise Charles for inviting Nick. He’d be sorry by the time we reached the convention center.

  Once there, we’d help Anthony set up and evaluate his booth. Then he wanted to do a run through and take some mock orders to be sure he was getting all the right information. When we had dinner last week, I'd never seen Anthony so nervous. He was really worried about running his own booth for the first time.

  I grabbed my car keys from the kitchen table, where I’d dropped them when I arrived. I yelled back, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  As I headed to my Land Rover and checked the contents of my overnight bag, Nick’s Porsche Boxster turned into the lot.

  Charles grabbed my bag. “Oh, by the way, you’ll be riding with Nick. Leave the keys in your car so Cortnie can use it.” He turned away from me quickly, so he didn’t see the look on my face. He tossed my bag into the back of Nick’s Boxster, and said, “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”

  My heart thudded in my chest as I opened the door and got in the car with Nick.

  49

  When Nick put the top down on his convertible, I wanted to protest, but decided not to start the trip on a negative note. I pushed a loose hair behind my ear and looked out the passenger window.

  “Here,” Nick said. I looked to see that he had a black silk scarf in his hand.

  I took it, but said, “What’s this?”

  “Here in America, we call it a scarf. You put it on your head to keep the wind from blowing your hair in your face.” He started the car.

  I handed it back. “Thanks, but I’m good. I don’t know who else had this on their head, and I’m not big on sharing hair products.”

  Nick ignored my hand. “It’s new. Just put it on, because I’m not stopping halfway there to put the top back up.”

  Not wanting this to be a negative experience, I took the scarf. It was a lovely day, after all. Even this early in the morning, the sun had already burned through the fog. I looked up to the sun, hoping the warmth could thaw the chill I felt inside.

  Nick didn't say much as he maneuvered his Porsche Boxster through the streets of Salinas towards Highway 101 North. I felt tense and didn't know exactly how to start the conversation, so I brought up a nice, neutral subject.

  "Heard anything about Susan's trial?" I asked.

  "I haven't been scheduled for a court date, but the attorneys have had me in several times to question me." Nick never took his eyes off the road.

  "I'm dreading having to go to court and see that woman again."

  Susan Olsen was the murderer in the case that had brought Nick and I back together. I mean, brought us back together as in, we saw each other for the first time in ages. It also helped initiate our make out session on the couch in my living room, which Charles broke up before it went too far.

  "Sometimes it feels like I spend more time in courtrooms justifying my arrests, than out there chasing the bad guys.” He looked at me. "To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to spending a few days in San Francisco. I haven't taken time off in a long time."

  "So your idea of a good time is a couple of days in San Francisco? I thought you were trying to get away from those people and those memories."

  "It’s a great place to visit; I just wouldn't want to live there again. Besides, it's not like I'm going to run into people from my past."

  Nick’s past was a bit shady. After a four year career in the NFL, and a stint in rehab, he joined the police force in San Francisco, and quickly rose through the ranks to become a homicide detective. But his time there took him back to drugs and drinking, and he ended up back in Salinas to leave his wicked ways behind. I didn't know how long he’d been sober, because I never asked him, but I think it’d been at least a few years.

  "San Francisco is a big place, and I doubt we'll be going anywhere other than Moscone Center."

  Nick picked up his mobile phone and pressed the screen for Pandora radio. "Any particular station you like to
listen to?"

  I looked at his phone, wondering when he'd become so proficient with electronics. "You pick, I like just about anything."

  He pressed a button and waited, then plugged the phone into the speaker outlet on his Boxster. Within moments, the sounds of Harry Connick, Jr. filled the sports car. “There, something for background noise. And we can still talk.”

  Not that we could hear over the noise from the wind.

  “Does Jackie ever talk about what happened with Catey?”

  Catey had been the cause of the last case Nick and I had worked on together. Catey had been in a texting relationship with a “boy” who not only turned out to be a forty-something year old man, he’d also turned up dead. Charles and I had found the body.

  “It’s a subject we tend to avoid.”

  “William deserved what he got. I’m just glad Catey never actually saw the body.” Nick tapped the steering wheel in time with the music.

  “Me, too.” Even though it was recent history, I tried not to think of William Garrison, with his head bashed in, or of the teenage girl who’d gone missing.

  “And your ankle?”

  I really didn’t want to talk about that. I’d stayed with Nick for almost two weeks (off and on) while my ankle healed. I’d twisted it pretty bad during that same Garrison incident. “It’s fine.”

  "Good. So how's business? Charles says you've been quite busy."

  "Charles tends to talk a lot, and usually about stuff he shouldn't be talking about, but yes, business has been good."

  "Do you think it has to do with the Olsen case?"

  "I'd like to think that my marketing efforts are brilliant, but seriously, it's the Olsen case."

  Because Nick had no fear of getting a ticket, he was going well above the posted 70 mph speed limit. Weaving in and out of cars, he drove like an expert. It made me nervous when he took his eyes off the road to speak to me.

  "Give yourself more credit. You’ve worked hard to build this business, and word-of-mouth has been good for you."

  Nick’s smile melted me like a chocolate bar on a dashboard in August. I just wish I could find out how to melt him the same way. Never in a million years did I expect what he did next. He reached over and put his hand on my leg. Talk about melt. I started to lift his hand and say, “No way, Jose,” but stopped, I wanted it there. His touch made me feel safe, and I didn’t know why.