Rock Wolf Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “Yeah, we’re not going to let you close it,” Duke said calmly. He wasn’t even looking at Titus. He was staring off across the lake. “And with the number of new clients that Mindy has been making appointments for, you’re booked pretty much until December.”

  “Excuse me?” How was that even possible? “It’s not even September.”

  Adam ignored Titus and looked at Duke. “Until December? That’s impressive! How do people have jobs that can book out like that?”

  “Well, Mindy did this weird perfect day scheduling thing,” Duke said thoughtfully. “I really don’t get it. But she allots us time in a schedule for certain things like evaluating an alarm system or for consulting on someone’s business or theater alarm and emergency plan. And then she’s got all of these slots that people can choose from during the week.”

  Younger sighed. “No more coming into work whenever we want. That’s what that is all about. Now we have to be there at a certain time.” Younger turned to look at Ash. “Can you imagine?”

  “Yes, yes I can.” Ash was married to Mindy. No doubt some of this perfect day scheduling had come from his brain as much as it had from hers.

  Titus couldn’t actually argue with Mindy on the idea that a little bit of organization and a whole lot of clean-up had been needed in the operating procedures in his office. However, it did make for a good point. “See?” Titus said with satisfaction as Younger steered them back across the open water to the marina. “This is just more proof that you don’t need me. Ash can run the office. Ash and Mindy. Hell. Maybe I’ll just hire Mindy to run it.”

  The more Titus thought about it, the more that seemed like the perfect idea. Mindy was a whiz with this stuff. She seemed like a natural. He’d just ask her to cut down on her hours at the mirror maze and work almost exclusively for Rock Wolf Investigations. End of story, problem solved.

  Chapter Twelve

  Part dog. Part dog? Kylie shook her head as she forced herself out of her pajamas and into her clothes. She needed to go to work and talk to Joe. He needed to know she was suing the paper and Hilary Allenwood for libel. Who knew? Maybe it would get her job back. Besides, at the moment, Kylie needed something to do to keep her mind off of naughty images of Titus Holbrook.

  Unfortunately for Kylie, her mind was determined to focus on what Titus looked like without a shirt on. She pulled her clothes on and tried to stop thinking about him, but it was no use. There were too many questions. Why had he been there without a shirt? Did that make any sense? He’d been there literally a short time before. The guy claimed he had been walking by her backyard on patrol. Did you really patrol without your shirt on? And where had it gone? He’d had a shirt on when he’d left her place just a short while ago.

  Kylie left the house and got into her little SUV. She chuckled to herself as she prepared to back out of her garage. Maybe Titus had been patrolling the neighborhood in his dog body. Yeah. That was it. That’s why no shirt. He had sprouted fur on his arms and chest and face and he’d sniffed around the backyards of his neighbors like some bloodhound.

  The idea of the part dog, part man thing seemed to get more and more ridiculous the closer Kylie got to town and civilization. Driving into Branson on the relief route, she made the turn to go the back way to the winery just to avoid the stop and go traffic of Route 76. As she zipped right along the familiar roads, she tried to be realistic about the concept of part dog. Surely, Ms. Wankenfurter hadn’t meant the actual werewolf thing in which a human actually turned into an animal. She was talking about that Hypertrichosis thing. Kylie needed to look that up. It might explain the entire thing. All of it, including Titus’s hesitancy to have any kids of his own citing what he called a medical condition. Not to mention the fact he was super weird and standoffish sometimes when it came to social situations.

  By the time she pulled into her spot at the winery, Kylie had concluded that research would answer most, if not all, of her questions. Kylie could have totally believed that one of the other employees might have started using her parking spot since she obviously wasn’t at work recently. But at least her spot was still open.

  The winery was crowded, though it usually was in the afternoons when people were looking for something indoors to do to beat the broiling afternoon heat. There were hordes of older people. Folks in their sixties and seventies who somehow thought drinking wine wasn’t actually imbibing alcohol somehow kept them a step above those who sat around consuming beer. People were funny sometimes.

  Kylie immediately turned and went to the main customer service area where Joe had an office tucked behind a partition to separate him from the long counter line of hospitality clerks who were ready at a moment’s notice to sell tickets for the tour, ring up merchandise from the store, or take an order for a case or six of wine.

  “Hey.” Kylie poked her head behind the partition and found Joe buried in paperwork.

  He looked up from the mess on his desk. He didn’t smile when he spotted her and Kylie tried not to be offended by that. No doubt he thought she’d come to yell at him. Yes. That was probably why he was looking hunted.

  “What are you doing here?” Joe muttered. He turned back to his computer screen. “I told you that you needed to stay away while you were on suspension.”

  Kylie stepped the rest of the way into his cubicle-sized office. “Joe, I didn’t do anything. Hilary is just stirring up trouble.”

  “Yeah? Well she’s done a good job of it. Hasn’t she? Did you see the story in the paper?” Joe’s voice was about to snap with tension. “Do you have any idea how much of a debacle this is? This whole thing is going to cost the winery hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost revenue.”

  Kylie pressed her lips into a tight line. “Yes. I can really see how the number of visitors has drastically declined since the article.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Kylie shot back. “Yes. The article was bad. I’ll agree. In fact, it was so bad that I am filing a suit against the paper and against Hilary Allenwood for libel and defamation of character.”

  “What?” Joe pushed himself back in his chair so hard that it nearly dumped him over backwards. Then he rocked forward again and put his face in his hands. “Kylie, why? Why don’t you just let it go?”

  Kylie didn’t even have to wonder about this next bit. She could see it on Joe’s face. “Because that woman cost me my job!”

  “What? Don’t be silly.” But when he lowered his hands from his face, he couldn’t do anything but fidget with the pen on his desk. It was like he was buying time to think of what to say. “It didn’t cost you your job.”

  She was tired of the bullshit. Really tired of it. “Oh really? So, when am I coming back to work? You suspended me without pay. I bet if I go out there and I look around for who is managing the hospitality room, I’ll see that you promoted someone or maybe even hired someone else from one of the other wineries. Maybe they haven’t started work yet, since my designated parking spot was still open, but I bet they will soon. And when they do, I’m gone.”

  “Kylie, you’ve worked for this winery for more than ten years,” Joe reminded her. “We have a little more loyalty than that.”

  “Careful, Joe.” Kylie made a tisking noise. “That’s not true. You’re too worried about image. And if you honestly think people believe that story Hilary ran in the Branson Register, then you will fire me just so you can say you’re doing your due diligence to maintain the high standards of quality treatment for your employees.” It was all gag worthy, really. But it was true enough, and Kylie could tell.

  There was a knock on the outside of the cubicle. “Excuse me, Mr. Turner? I just need to speak with you for a moment about…”

  Kylie frowned as a man in a black suit pushed his way into the cubicle without waiting for an answer to his knock. The man looked familiar. But not in a way that made Kylie think she had actually met him. It was more in a generic way that made her think she’d seen him in the winery
or perhaps in the local news. But definitely local. He was sort of nondescript with thinning brown hair, dark eyes, and a pinched expression on his face.

  “Oh.” The man stopped walking abruptly and looked from Kylie to Joe and back. “I didn’t realize Ms. Overton was here for a meeting, Mr. Turner.”

  “That’s all right, Detective Sellers.” Joe sounded tired. “It wasn’t a scheduled meeting.”

  Meeting? And who was this joker anyway? Kylie tilted her head and tried to think of where she had seen him around. It was fairly recently. Had it been on the evening news? Something to do with that Caprico guy that Kylie had been taunting Hilary Allenwood with.

  “Detective Sellers,” Kylie repeated. “The former colleague of the guy they had to ship up to the state prison for drug trafficking and a laundry list of crimes that might even include murder?” Kylie gave Joe a sideways glance. “Let me guess. The one person who was really, really happy to let me take the blame for that wine getting sprayed on the lady’s blouse was Frederick Wilson. He is saying that I’m the one who opened the bottle. Right?”

  Kylie could tell by Joe’s half frozen expression that this was true. Frederick the little chicken shit. What a tool! She had pulled his ass out of the fire so many times that she could barely even remember them all.

  “Because I’m usually the one who sprays a wine bottle on people after improperly opening the thing,” Kylie went on. She was feeling particularly combative right now. “And so, you called in an investigator because the woman who got sprayed is now pissed that her picture made it into the paper and she wants what—a case of wine? You know, just to help with her mental anguish?”

  “Kylie, this is more complicated than you think,” Joe told her in a clipped voice filled with irritation. “You have no idea how much of a real problem it is. I called in Detective Sellers because we needed someone to fully investigate the incident and take statements.”

  “And when Frederick gets called to file a statement for my libel suit,” Kylie reminded Joe, “how well do you think Frederick is going to hold up for you when you start sweating him out about perjuring himself? I was there. I saw it happen. And so did that woman for that matter. Is she saying that I did it.”

  To Kylie’s shock, it was actually Sellers who answered. “Actually, no. She is adamant that Frederick—she calls him that incompetent little boy—is the one who opened the wine bottle and allowed it to spray her. Frederick is adamant he wasn’t the one who did it.”

  “Right. And did anyone notice that you can sort of see the person who did spray the wine in the picture that Hilary so nicely took for the paper? In the corner of the photograph you can see someone in a dark shirt.”

  Sellers frowned. He reached for a folded newspaper on the corner of Joe’s desk and picked it up. After peering for a couple of moments at the picture, he handed it over to Joe. “It does look like someone wearing a dark shirt. What do you think?”

  Joe seemed impatient and more than a little ready to tell Kylie to get the hell out of there. “Yes, so what? It’s a dark polo shirt. That’s what they all wear in the hospitality room. That way when they get a little wine on their shirt, nobody can tell.”

  Kylie stared down at Joe. Did he really not get it? Sometimes she thought he wasn’t necessarily up to the task of running this place. He acted as though he were more than a little overwhelmed about eighty-five percent of the time.

  “Joe, the managers don’t wear dark polo shirts,” Kylie reminded him.

  Joe’s mouth sort of popped open. Then he slammed it closed and shrugged. “That’s just a picture. Frederick could have been standing there beside you.”

  “Uh,” Detective Sellers looked rather uncomfortable. “Actually, sir, I think we might have to enhance the picture a bit to be able to see the details clearly, but it seems pretty clear that the bottle is being held by a person with a dark shirt on.”

  “So, what!” Joe burst out. He flung up his hands and threw the paper across the office. He actually seemed to be having a tantrum. “None of that matters. Frederick said he didn’t do it.”

  “And so did I,” Kylie retorted. She glared at Joe. This felt like the biggest betrayal of them all. How could he actually believe she was just a liar? Plain and simple. No evidence to support it. He just believed it. “When have I ever lied to you, Joe? Ever. That’s not the way I am and you know it. That tells me there’s something else going on. Hilary Allenwood wants me in the crosshairs. I don’t know why. I don’t know anything about it other than she has your balls in a vise and you’re willing to throw me under the bus in order to get her to let go.”

  Joe didn’t answer. He wouldn’t look at her either. He just stared at his desk and glowered and probably wished her to hell and back. It was Detective Sellers who cleared his throat and glanced from Kylie back to Joe. “Well, Mr. Turner, I think that means I have more than enough evidence to write my report. Plus, I am going to have to have a talk with Frederick Wilson about giving false statements while under oath. Apparently, the kid doesn’t watch enough television.”

  Kylie wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. She was establishing herself as innocent. Right? That was bound to be useful to her attorney at least.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Overton, why is the woman filing a complaint with the police department claiming they were supposed to give her a case of wine?” Detective Sellers asked suddenly. “You said a case. That she probably wanted a case. I just wondered how you knew that.”

  “Because it’s what she asked for when I was trying to get her to take me up on my offer of a free replacement blouse in our gift shop. I offered her a complimentary bottle because that’s standard procedure.”

  “Wait. You mean this happens often?”

  “I wouldn’t say often,” Kylie said hastily. “But often enough. It’s wine. The bottles can sometimes pop. They don’t regularly, but other spills happen, too. So, we are in the habit of giving them a shirt for free from the shop. Then we send their stuff across the street to the dry cleaner while they’re taking a complimentary tour, and then we give them a bottle of wine for their trouble. On the house, of course.”

  Sellers looked fascinated. “And this lady wanted a case.”

  “Yes. She said she wanted to give them away as Christmas presents and it sounded as though she was hoping not to have to pay for her Christmas shopping this year.” Kylie shook her head and gave a rueful laugh. “I didn’t actually tell her she could have a case. I told her we would discuss it after she’d had her clothing dry cleaned and had picked out a new blouse. I intended to negotiate with her, but I didn’t want to sit there and tell her no when she was dripping wine. I needed to be able to tell her no when she was already basically enjoying freebies I’d already provided her. It’s all about the bargaining position really.”

  Sellers was shaking his head. Then he turned to Joe and gave him a hard look. “You really shouldn’t suspect this one of any of the charges, Mr. Turner. She sounds like a good employee. I’d hate to lose her if I were you. I’m just saying.”

  Kylie shrugged and then she turned around and got ready to walk out. “I appreciate the acknowledgement, Detective, but honestly, I’m not sure if I want to keep working for a guy who will push me in front of the first bus that comes along just because some bully of a reporter told him to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Look, I can’t help you with that, Titus. I’m sorry.” Former Detective Lowell gave Titus a rueful smile. “My cover is blown. You know that. I’m not actually employed with the Branson Police Department. I’m DEA and right now the only reason I’m still in the area is to help clean up the rest of Caprico’s mess. But you should really talk to Detective Sellers. He’s your guy.”

  Titus made a face and took a long drink of his coffee. The popular coffee shop down at Branson Landing was one of Titus’s favorite places to grab a cup of Irish Crème coffee and a chocolate chip banana walnut muffin at practically any time of the day. Of course, at the moment, Titus had opted to
meet former Detective Lowell there because Titus wanted to pick the man’s brain about this Hilary Allenwood thing.

  Lowell pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “You’re sure that it was Hilary and Caroline snooping around your neighborhood and breaking into houses?”

  “Just the old lady’s house,” Titus said quickly. “The rest of the time it was just snooping. All hours of the day and night like they’re gathering information. And Hilary has been talking to my employees and my neighbors and telling them—well, telling them things that are obviously designed to aggravate the situation.”

  Lowell lifted his own latte to his lips and slurped the hot liquid. Then he bit off a generous portion of muffin and chewed slowly as though he needed to buy time to think. “What kind of stuff is she saying?”

  “She’s saying that I’m a murderous werewolf.”

  Lowell put down his muffin in the midst of trying to take another bite and looked as though he was waiting for Titus to deliver the punchline. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to be funny here? Because I don’t get the joke.”

  “It’s not a joke. That’s what she’s saying.” Titus exhaled a sigh.

  It would be so much easier if he could actually say what needed to be said. Titus could just explain to Lowell that he came from a long line of wolf shifters with a very shady reputation and that Hilary Allenwood had information about a murder that had taken place back in Montana a good twenty years ago that had actually been perpetuated by another member of Titus’s family. Oh, and that Titus had left Montana after the townspeople had showed up with pitchforks and torches and had hung his father from a tree for the murder. Vigilante justice and a good old-fashioned lynching just like they did in the Old West.

  “Titus,” Lowell said in a placating tone of voice, “come on now. You don’t honestly believe that people are going to believe her if she prints a story like that.”