Hired Killer (Biscayne Bay Book 1)

by Deborah Brown

  “Who are you?” Grey grouched.

  The kid jumped back and stared, wide-eyed. “Dixon.” His hands shot in the air. “I work here. Just ask Avery English.”

  “Relax,” I told the kid, but it was also meant for Grey. I linked my arm in his and tugged.

  “Sorry.” Grey introduced everyone. “There’s just a lot going on around here.”

  Dixon nodded and entered the offices.

  “If you’re ever hiring,” Floyd said to Grey, “I’d like to take a stab at the job.”

  Grey fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the man. “Call yourself so I know how to get ahold of you.”

  Floyd handed it back with a big smile on his face. “You won’t be sorry.” Someone yelled his name from inside, and he waved and disappeared through the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After having a short conversation with Avery, we headed home, and by the time we hit the parking garage, she’d texted me Rally’s cell number. Grey grabbed cold drinks while I retrieved a burner phone, and we met out on the balcony. I sat down next to him and made the call. Voicemail. Again and again.

  “How about I leave him a message: ‘Answer or I’m calling the cops?’”

  “So much for the friendly approach.” Grey laughed. “Might as well. He probably thinks you’re a spam caller and has no intention of answering, as least not without some motivation.”

  “I’m going to issue multiple threats.” I grinned manically. “First to pick up the damn phone, and follow it up with a time and place to meet in person. To which I’ll be taking my significant other—Floyd.”

  It was clear that Grey liked the idea but was hesitant. “Floyd’s going to start asking questions.”

  “Maybe not. He hasn’t so far. If he’s lived in Florida a while, he figures what you don’t know… and if trouble comes back around and gets in his face, he can kick its butt down the block.”

  “My instincts are leaning toward Floyd being a good choice. I’m going to hit him with a few questions—ascertain his trustworthiness and make sure he can handle the job.”

  I picked up the phone, called Rally, prepared for voicemail, and left a message. “Rally, Brenda here. You tried to break into my building. You’ve got two hours to call back or I’m calling the cops.”

  “He knows that if you’re calling, he screwed up, and he won’t want the cops involved. He’d have to run to Daddy for bail money, and I guess he’d want to keep that from happening.” Grey checked his watch. “If you don’t hear back, then follow through and call the cops.”

  “He’s going to call. On the off-chance he doesn’t, I’ll give the cops a copy of the security tape, and he can explain to them. Press charges, see how he likes that.”

  “I heard you cross-examining Avery on the Dixon kid. Does he at least have a learner’s permit?”

  “I object.” I slapped my hand on the armrest. “During our friendly conversation, Avery told me that Dixon graduates from college in a few months and, in the meantime, earns college credit working for her.” I made a so-there face. “They met at a math symposium; it’s where smart peeps go and lord it over each other about whose IQ is higher.” I laughed, knowing Grey didn’t believe me.

  The burner rang.

  Grey picked it up, checked the screen, and handed it to me. “What do you know, your threat worked.”

  “How are you today, Mr. Rally?” I asked in a saccharine tone.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Rally said in a snooty tone.

  “Then you need to go back and listen to the message. After that, how about we meet for coffee and you can explain why you tried to break in to my office building?”

  There was a long pause. “Ten o’clock tomorrow work for you?” The snootiness was gone.

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  “It would be more convenient to meet at your office.”

  If I had my way, he’d never set foot on the property again. “I’ll text you the address of the coffee house. See you at ten.” I disconnected.

  Grey, who’d been scrolling through his phone, held it up so I could see the screen. “We’ll meet here. I don’t want him anywhere near Biscayne Bay.”

  I turned up my nose at the location he chose, which was on a busy highway in Miami, but agreed with his logic and texted Rally the address.

  Grey got on his phone. “Got a job for you, if you can square it with Hugo. Don’t want you to hack him off.” He laughed at the response. He shot a few questions at Floyd, then hired him to bodyguard me, making arrangements to pick him up at the office in the morning.

  “I take it Hugo’s okay with you poaching one of his employees for the day?” I was happy to have oversized muscle at my side. Who knew what Rally Charles was capable of now that he’d been caught committing a crime?

  “Floyd already told Hugo that he’d hit me up for a job, and everything’s copasetic. If Ender’s not full of himself and starts sending work my way, I’ll start using Floyd when needed. If he’s after a PI license, then I can set it up so he can put in the hours and get a legit license.”

  “That would be swell of you, sweetness.” I frowned. “I’m going to miss you when you start hanging at the office.”

  “You’re reneging on partnering with me?” He teased, amusement in his eyes.

  “Oh no, I’m in… with one little caveat. I get right of refusal on the jobs and no hard feelings.”

  “Been thinking… there’s no reason you can’t take your laptop to the office. There’s plenty of space to spread out. There’s no beach, so I thought I’d hang up a wall-sized poster, add wave sounds for background ambience.”

  “That’s sweet of you.”

  “Another perk: office hours won’t be the crack of dawn until noon, like you’re doing now.”

  “Sounds like a perk for you.” I laughed. “As your partner, and in the spirit of full disclosure…” I ignored his suspicious stare. “I’m going to call your ex-partner and see if he’ll consent to an interview.”

  “Seven’s going to be full of questions. Do like you do me—answer with another question. Dance him around in that charming way of yours. That kind of nonsense will intrigue him, and he’ll be eager to meet you, though he won’t let on.”

  I faux glared at him.

  Grey laughed me off. “Exaggerate. Let him believe you’ve interviewed everybody and then some, but don’t give him a single hint as to what the others said. He won’t be able to help himself and will want to know what you found out. And when he finds out you’re full of it… too late. Pay for the coffee; that will assuage his ego some.” Grey was thoroughly amused with his idea.

  “And at some point, you’re going to pop up and say, ‘Look who’s back from the dead’?”

  “That’s where my plan gets vague. I’m going to wait and see how your interview with Seven goes. If I want my life back, I’m going to have to trust someone in order to get anywhere with trying to track the real murderer.”

  “Do you think there’s a link between the real killer and the person that wants you dead?” I asked, having overthought the question a lot of late.

  Grey nodded. “Or they’re one and the same.”

  I picked up my phone. “No time like the present.”

  “Seven’s going to ask how you got his number, and you’re going to say…?”

  “The truth, of course.” ‘Duh’ in my tone. “His cousin’s third wife.” Grey laughed. “Or do you think I should be vague and, if he presses, say, ‘Google search’?” I pulled the ex-detective’s number out of my pocket. “I’ve already decided that if he doesn’t answer, I won’t leave a ‘call or else’ message.” I crossed my lips with my finger. “I’m going with my Brenda persona.”

  “Yes, Miss Jones.” Grey saluted.

  I steadied my hand as I punched in the number and took a last-minute deep breath.

  “Charm him, and you’ll be fine,” Grey whispered.

  “Seven,” he answered.

&
nbsp; “This is Brenda Jones…” I launched into my writer spiel. “I have a few questions about the death of Mindy Graham that the others I’ve interviewed weren’t able to answer, and I was hoping that we could meet and you’d clear up a few issues.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “411,” I said with certainty.

  Grey lowered his head, and I knew he was laughing. I attempted to kick him, but he intercepted my foot and pushed it away.

  “Who knew anyone still used that service.” The smirk in his tone was loud and clear. “If you’re going to lie about something, maybe do some research.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not sounding the least bit. “I meant Google.”

  Seven actually laughed. “How many people have you interviewed for this project? How about tossing out a name or two?”

  “Dozens,” I said airily and attempted to steer the conversation to another subject. “I thought we could meet for coffee and a pastry. My treat, of course.”

  “Back to my question, which you ignored. Names?”

  “It wouldn’t be professional for me to disclose that.” I sucked in a breath to steady my nerves.

  “You’re lucky that I have a flexible schedule… and then there’s my curiosity. How about we make it lunch? You pay, and I’m in.” Seven chuckled. “In addition, I’ll be wanting a mention in this book of yours and a signed copy.”

  “How about: ‘Without the input of Seven Donnelly, this book wouldn’t have catapulted me to the bestseller list’?”

  “Tomorrow at one? I’ll text you the address, and we’re agreed that this is a one-time deal.”

  I agreed. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.”

  “Don’t be late.” Seven hung up.

  “He went easier on you than I thought he would.” Grey chuckled. “I’m wagering he chooses his favorite restaurant, an Italian hole in the wall that has amazing food and charges for it.”

  “The only time I grumble about price is when the food’s terrible.” My cell dinged, and I showed the screen to Grey.

  “That’s the place.” He nodded at the screen. “I’m jealous. You need to bring me something to-go.”

  “You can eat it fresh from the oven if you come and sit at a table close by.”

  “Maybe, but I’d need sunglasses and a hat, and both would need to conceal my face. I’m trying to remember the layout. I say we get there early and pick an out-of-the-way table.” Grey stood. “I’ve got a box to go through that’s got some fun stuff in it. I’m going to mic you up for tomorrow. I have earpieces—flesh-colored, so they blend in with your skin tone—that make eavesdropping easier.” He’d cleaned out the storage unit and moved the few boxes he had, which were currently stacked in the second bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning, Grey woke early and was out of bed at the same time as me. I made the coffee while he picked out a dress for me to wear and affixed a mic under the collar. Grey tested it several times, and it worked loud and clear.

  As we got ready to leave, he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a crushing hug. “You’ve got this. Anything goes awry, you’ve got me and Floyd as backup. Neither of us will take our eyes off that turd, Rally.” He took my hand, and we walked to the elevator.

  I took a breath to calm my nerves, but it wasn’t working. Grey kept up an endless stream of chatter on the drive to the office, which was unusual for him. I appreciated him trying to keep my mind off the morning ahead.

  “You don’t have to worry about what Floyd knows or doesn’t. I had a long conversation with him last night, and I trusted him enough to tell him what’s going on. If I made the wrong decision, I’ll only regret it if it comes back on you.”

  He pulled into the parking lot.

  I leaned across the console and gave him a quick kiss.

  Floyd—a carbon-copy of Grey in jeans and a dress shirt, and cutting a menacing figure—was leaning against the bumper of a truck. When he caught sight of us, he waved and climbed in the back of the SUV.

  “Keep your eyes on Rally,” Grey said. “I’m not expecting any trouble, but we don’t know why he tried to break in or what he was hoping to find. The only priority is keeping Harper safe.” He went on to explain what he expected. “You’ll be introduced as Harper’s boyfriend.” No comment to that one. “If the little pissant puts up a fuss about you sitting at the same table, too damn bad.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll keep my eyes peeled, and Rally won’t get any closer to Harper than across the table,” Floyd said gruffly.

  “I’ll be interested in your observations,” Grey said to Floyd as he pulled into the strip mall where the coffee house was located and cruised past the entrance. “Damn.” He hit the steering wheel. “Rally’s already here, sitting under one of the big umbrellas.”

  Floyd turned and stared.

  “I’m going to park, and you two get out. I’ll stay behind for a few minutes, and when I’m certain his attention is on the two of you, I’ll circle around and grab a table.”

  Rally’s attention went from scanning the parking lot to his phone, which he picked up, then turned away and started to talk.

  Floyd and I got out.

  Floyd joined me as we crossed the parking lot. He moved with surprising agility considering his size. “Don’t worry. Rally tries anything, and I’ll rip his head off. There’s a trash can at the entrance.”

  I laughed. “In case Grey forgot to tell you, my name is Brenda Jones.” I caught Floyd’s eyeroll and almost laughed again. “Another thing—don’t be surprised by anything I say. I’ll be making it up as I go.”

  “Gotcha. You say whatever you want and I’ll go with it.”

  Floyd and I walked up the steps, cut across the patio, and sat opposite Rally Charles. He hung up without a good-bye, eyed Floyd, and straightened in his seat.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I was relieved to see that Grey had claimed a table off to one side and out of Rally’s view, unless he turned completely around.

  Rally stuck out his hand. I ignored it. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Who’s he?” He inclined his head toward Floyd.

  “Her boyfriend. I wouldn’t stick your stubby fingers in her face again. I’d hate to break them off.” Floyd’s tone said he wouldn’t mind at all, and he followed it up with a hair-raising smile.

  “What was so important that you attempted to pry open both doors of my office building?” I asked.

  “I could’ve sworn I heard someone yelling for help, and I couldn’t turn my back,” Rally said in an innocent tone. “Then it was silent, and I thought maybe I was mistaken. But I couldn’t turn my back if someone needed aid.”

  I wanted to applaud his performance. I did give him credit for making eye contact while attempting to sell his lie. “That’s your story?” Dumbass. “It needs work. I’m surprised you couldn’t work up a better explanation, since you’ve had a couple of days to come up with one.”

  Rally’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. It was clear that he wasn’t used to having his word questioned.

  “How did you just happen to find yourself at my office building?” I asked.

  “A fluke,” he said with a strained smile. “Saw you on the road a couple of days ago and followed you, not realizing I was running late for an appointment. I made a note to go back later, hoping to catch you.”

  Yeah, sure. “We’re here now. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I overheard your conversation with Mr. Graham about writing a book about his daughter’s murder. I’m the one you should interview, since we were friends. Although the ending will suck, since the murderer is dead and was never brought to justice.” Rally’s eyes gleamed, suggesting he thought justice had been served anyway.

  “The problem with your theory that Grey Walker was the real murderer is that there was zero evidence.” I struggled to keep the bite out of my tone. “I’m certain had there been any, he would’ve been charged.”

  �
�Mindy’s body was found on his property. How else would she get there?” Duh in Rally’s tone. “Since you want to talk evidence, there weren’t any signs of her being dumped.” He stared intensely. “Don’t tell me that you’re going with some theory of Walker’s innocence. That will be a boring story, and anyone who knows the facts will think you were bought off.” His lips curled smugly. “You’d change your tune if you interviewed a couple of the women he dated. Not a nice guy. In fact, a few of them reported that he had an explosive temper.”

  There had only been one woman mentioned in the articles I’d read, and I’d love to sit down with her. “You’re volunteering to sit for an interview and answer questions so I can get the real facts?”

  “You’ve not been overly friendly. What’s in it for me?” Rally leered.

  Floyd slid his chair closer to me, and the man pinned him with a glare.

  “What I meant was that I’m one of the few people that could give you the real story of how everything played out.” Rally leaned back in his chair. “You probably know that Mindy and I had been friends since childhood. We met in the second grade, kindred spirits. As we got older, we didn’t spend as much time together as we wanted. It seems like I’m the only one who cares that Walker was never brought to justice. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean it’s too late to get the real story out.” He flashed a secretive smile, letting me know he was the man with all the answers. “No one else is going to talk to you. I’m surprised that Mr. Graham agreed to meet with you at all, since a book is the last thing he wants.”

  “Do you have proof that Walker was the murderer?” I asked.

  “I don’t need to make anything up.” Rally huffed. “Facts speak for themselves.”

  If he had the proof, why not go to the cops? I suspected he was full of himself, but that didn’t explain what game he was playing. I glanced at Floyd, who was staring Rally down with a fierce expression. He fidgeted in his chair and looked around the patio, keeping his eyes averted.

  “If I agree to this interview, you’d be willing to disclose all this proof you say you have?”