by Jane Hinchey
"What?" Sophie frowned and then peered at my phone, as if she could read what I was writing through the cracked screen. I held it against my chest, just in case. She seemed agitated now and that had me curious.
"I'm investigating the murder of my friend. Private Investigator Ben Delaney."
The color drained from her face, leaving her a pasty white. "What? I didn't kill anyone!"
My eyebrows rose. "I didn't say you had," I pointed out calmly. "But from what you just told me you're not above taking things into your own hands if you discovered your dad had hired another PI."
"I didn't know if he had or not," she blustered, the color returning to her cheeks in a rush of pink. "But I assumed he would—at some point."
"Hence the lie about Logan. Give your dad something to chew on while you carried on an affair with a married man." My words were intentionally blunt. I didn't condone this young woman's actions in the slightest. "Quite the age gap too," I continued. "You know he's thirty-five? That's fifteen years older than you."
"I like older men." She sulked, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Let me give you some advice. When this all comes out—and it will—it's you who will come out of it worse off. You'll be labeled the other woman. The homewrecker. No matter that it's Steven doing the cheating. It's your reputation that will be dragged through the mud."
She gasped. "You can't tell anyone. That's against client privilege."
"I'm not a lawyer or a doctor," I pointed out, "so that doesn't apply, and also, your dad didn't hire Delaney Investigations to follow you. But you're right, I'm not telling anyone, that's not how I roll." I looked her up and down. "You seem a smart woman so let me give you one piece of advice, woman to woman. Once a cheater, always a cheater."
"Steven would never cheat on me!" she gasped.
I shook my head at her naivety. "Oh yeah? Whose bed does he sleep in every night? Who does he kiss good morning? He might tell you he doesn't love his wife or their marriage is dead or whatever way he spun it, but he's still there. With her. Because what he told you is bullshit just to get into your pants. And I'll bet you a hundred bucks he is most definitely having sex with his wife."
"Whoa!" Ben said, "Harsh."
"But true." I nodded my head emphatically. Which puzzled Sophie, because, of course, I was talking to a ghost. Damn it, and I had been doing so well. I cleared my throat and tried to cover the slip. "You're young, Sophie. You have your whole life ahead of you. There's plenty of time to find the right man. And a man who is married to someone else is not the right one. I think you know that, yeah? And maybe, on some level, you pursued this relationship to get back at your dad, but in the end, the one person you're hurting the most in all of this...is you."
19
Rather than park my ailing Chrysler on the street, I parked it in the garage next to Ben's Nissan. Maybe now I'd remember to take his car and let my old bucket of bolts enjoy her retirement.
Ben had grilled me all the way home about my speech to Sophie and how he thought I was talking from experience. I assured him I wasn't. I hadn't had an affair with a married man, and I hadn't been cheated on. But I'd had work friends who had. As a temp, I breezed in and out of people's lives, but believe me when I say I saw a lot of the fallout from those situations in the workplace. It was never pretty.
"Oh good—" Thor began when I opened the door leading from the garage to the house.
"Don't tell me." I cut him off. "You're starving?"
"Very good, human. You're learning." His British accent still slew me and I grinned as he trotted by my side on the way to the kitchen. As predicted, there was still kibble in his bowl. Rather than add more, I reached down and rearranged what was there, merely covering the empty spot in the center of the bowl. Thor didn't even notice. As far as he was concerned he had more food. I picked up the second cereal bowl that had an inch of water in it and took it to the sink for a clean and top up.
"You would have known when you took those photos of Steven kissing Sophie, who she was," I said to Ben while I worked.
He leaned against the kitchen bench, legs crossed at the ankles. "Yeah," he agreed.
"So I'm wondering if you didn't close the cases because of that connection? Sophie. In both cases, she wasn't the person you were hired to investigate, but there she was, right in the middle of both. I think you were planning on speaking with her—like I did today. Technically she hasn't done anything wrong. She's of legal age, she can see who she wants, but morally..."
Ben was nodding. "You're right. I was probably going to give her a lecture, in my cop voice, about the consequences of the choices we make."
"How much do you weigh? One eighty?" I measured him up out of the corner of my eye.
"Thereabouts." He shrugged.
"And Sophie? She's around five seven and a hundred and thirty-something pounds. Small frame."
"In that ballpark," he agreed. "And I see where you're going with this. She'd have struggled to get me into the woods. I'd have been dead weight."
"Did you notice though that the lawn isn't all dug up? There are no drag marks until you cross your boundary line and into the woods?"
He looked at me. "You're right." He eventually said, "I hadn't picked up on that." Before I knew it Ben was out the back door and on his hands and knees to examine the grass. Shaking my head, I placed the bowl of water down for Thor.
"Did you see who did it?" I asked the cat. It occurred to me that none of us had actually thought to ask the one other resident of the house if he'd seen anything.
Thor paused in his kibble-eating activities and sat back, tongue licking his snout. "I did not," he answered. "I was next door poking fun at the dog."
"It's you! You're the reason Percy barks so much, aren't you? You're winding him up!"
Thor yawned. "Can I help it that he has a pea-sized brain he doesn't use?"
"Thor, that's rude. And mean," I chastised, feeling sorry for Percy the pug. Now I felt bad for complaining to Mrs. Hill about her dog’s barking when it was Thor to blame for riling him up in the first place. Thor just looked at me, then went back to eating, clearly not giving a toss.
"I need coffee," I muttered, making myself a cup while Ben crawled around the back lawn and Thor stuffed his face. I made a note to do some research on how much I should be feeding him because at the rate he was going he was going to be one overweight puss. Coffee in hand I finally faced what I'd been avoiding. Brett Baxter's journals. Stretching out on the sofa, the bag of journals on the floor, I pulled the first one out and began reading. I quickly realized one thing. They were incredibly boring. At first glance, in Brett's apartment, it had looked intriguing and I'd been slightly uncomfortable at the idea of Brett recording conversations and basically spying on the guests at the hotel. But now that I was actually reading one? What a yawn fest. A detailed record of each guest’s fashion choices, complete with where he thought the items may have been purchased from, price range, and if he thought they were trashy or not. I started flipping through the pages, skimming over the fashion commentary before tossing the first journal aside. Only another eight to go.
It's entirely possible I dozed off, for the next thing I knew there was a banging coming from the front door and I had a book on my face. Struggling up, I dislodged the book, and Thor, who'd been curled up by my side. With sleepy eyes, he shot me an accusing glare before moving grudgingly to the end of the sofa where he resumed his nap.
The banging continued. Straightening my T-shirt, I glanced out the back windows. Ben was still intent on the lawn investigation, although he was over near the border of his property now, where the grass gave way to dirt.
Stumbling my way to the front door, I assumed it was Detective Galloway so threw open the door and barked, "What?"
Only it wasn't Galloway who was pounding with fist raised. It was Steven Armstrong. He barged inside, shouldering me out of the way. I staggered and reached out a hand to steady myself. "Hey! That was rude," I told him. Now tha
t he was in the house he didn't know where to go, so he spun on his heel and glared at me, hands on hips. I could only assume he'd had a call from Sophie.
"You've been spying on me!" he accused.
"I"—I pointed to myself—"have not." Which was true. It wasn't me. But I was splitting hairs.
"You told Sophie you knew about our relationship."
"Now that part is true." I nodded. I wasn't scared of him although I could tell he wanted me to be. He was all bluster and anger and he thought by towering over me I'd be cowed. Clearly he hadn't met me. One sharp knee to the gonads would bring him down and if he came any closer he was going to discover that for himself.
"Why?" He almost cried the word, it was so beseeching.
"Oh, was it a secret?" I batted my eyelashes and flattened my palm to my chest, mocking him. "What's wrong? Don't want your wife to find out?"
"You bitch," he growled. I saw the fist coming. Rather than dodge away I stepped closer, raised an arm to block while simultaneously bringing my knee up into his groin. Hard. His punch deflected off my forearm but still hurt like the devil. His strange mewling noise was incredibly rewarding, made especially sweet when he looked at me, mouth open, eyes crossed. His hands clutched his family jewels and he ever so slowly toppled sideways, where he curled up into a ball on the entryway floor. Figuring he'd be incapacitated for a couple of minutes at least, I retrieved my phone from the living room and called Galloway.
"Audrey," he answered.
"If someone were to throw a punch at me, in my own home, and I kneed them in the nuts...is that assault?" I asked conversationally, walking back to keep an eye on Steven who was still curled in the fetal position.
"That would be self-defense on your part. Assault on the other party’s part. This isn't a hypothetical, is it?" he asked, his voice resigned.
"Sadly, no."
"Are you in danger? Where is this person now?"
"On the floor. I think he might be crying?" I added, peering at the sniveling excuse for a man.
"On my way." He hung up and I was listening to the dial tone. I don't know what possessed me, but I snapped a photo. For my own personal collection, I told myself. I'd never post it on social media. Although it would serve as a handy reminder to any male who thought it was okay to strike a woman. I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms, waiting for Galloway to arrive. Every now and then Steven would move, then groan, then sniff. I cocked my head, watching him, and wondered if I'd busted a nut? I supposed it was possible, but so help me I didn't feel bad about it.
I heard the siren seconds before the screech of tires out front. Stepping over Steven, I crossed to the front door and opened it, watching as Galloway strode up the garden path. I made a mental note that he was just as easy to look at walking toward me as he was away.
Galloway ran his eyes over me as if assuring himself I was still in one piece, then looked beyond me to the man curled up inside. His face was stern, but I could tell he was trying not to smile.
"Okay. Tell me what happened," he said.
I did, telling him what had happened, what Steven had said before his misguided attempt to assault me.
Ben arrived, eyeballed Steven who had barely moved, then looked to me and Galloway. "What's happened?" His voice was shocked and I shot him a look, trying to convey that I could hardly answer him with Detective Galloway standing right in front of me.
Galloway was nodding. "That's a good move," he said when I described how I'd managed to get the jump on a two hundred-pound angry man.
I grinned. "Self-defense classes finally came in handy."
"And you're sure you're not hurt," he pressed. I lifted the arm that had blocked Steven's blow. The throbbing had stopped and a nice bruise was forming along my forearm. Galloway’s face darkened when he saw the mark. Swiveling, he stepped inside and dragged Steven to his feet, who protested with a pained whine.
Galloway had zero sympathy. "Hands behind your back," he demanded. Steven reluctantly let go of his balls and did as instructed. "Steven Armstrong, you're under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
He marched Steven out of the house, past me, toward his car, lights still flashing on the dash. I followed. After securing him in the back seat, Galloway slammed the door and then came back to speak to me where I stood on the edge of the lawn.
"I don't want to press charges," I said.
"Too late. I've arrested him." Galloway shrugged. "Hold up your arm," he instructed. Puzzled, I did. Galloway snapped a photo of the bruise with his phone. "Evidence," he muttered. "And you're going to have to come in and give a statement."
"Can't you do that here?" I admit, my own voice came out whiny. Once upon a time, I used to love visiting Ben in his workplace. Not anymore. I had no desire to be sitting in an interview room knowing cameras were watching me, recording me, and being potentially used against me.
"You still need to be fingerprinted—relax, not as a suspect. We need them for Ben's case, so we can rule out your prints and Ben's and see what's left."
He was right. I was meant to do that and I'd been putting it off until I'd conveniently forgotten about it. I was surprised they hadn't been on my case before now. Reading my mind, Galloway grinned. "I was going to call you in on Monday. When Officer Jacobs is on. I don't want you having to deal with Mills." Meaning Officer Mills was working this weekend.
I inclined my head. "I appreciate that."
"So I'll see you Monday. Providing you can stay out of trouble that long." He touched his hand to his brow in salute and climbed into his car. I stood and watched until the SUV was out of sight, noticing Mrs. Hill's curtains twitch when I finally turned to go back inside.
20
"How did it go with the grass?" I asked Ben once I'd closed the front door.
"Don't think you can distract me that easily!" He floated along beside me, sitting in an armchair opposite when I slouched back onto the sofa. Thor was nowhere to be seen and I figured he'd scampered outside when Steven had started shouting.
"Look, I'm fine." I protested. While it was nice to be around men who cared, it could also get just a little smothering. "I dealt with it. He didn't take me by surprise, I could tell by his body language that he would probably attack at some point, and he did. Plus, I'd taken that self-defense class you recommended, remember?"
Ben didn't look happy about it and I knew it must be frustrating for him not to be able to protect me. "I assume he was here because of Sophie?" Ben said.
I nodded. "He dug his own grave there. He's terrified of his wife finding out, yet now word is bound to leak with him being arrested for assault. Also, I don't think he killed you."
"Oh? He's male. Roughly the same size and build as me. It could have been him Mrs. Hill saw through the window."
"He seemed genuinely distraught that someone had found out about his affair with Sophie. It was an instinctive reaction for him, to come forcing his way inside here and unleash his emotions on me. And while he did attempt to hit me, he didn't come with a weapon to kill me. If he's behind your murder, then a: he would already know that people know and he would have reacted differently. Angry? Yes. But not surprised. He'd have been more in control. And, b: he wouldn't have confronted me the way he did. If he'd wanted to silence me he'd have done better to wait until it was dark and then make his move. Like he did with you—if he was the killer."
"You have a point. You have a talent for reading people, Fitz."
I shrugged. "A skill you subconsciously pick up with temping. You get pretty good at summing people up. It can be brutal in the workforce, resentments and jealousy run rife." The temping life reminded me a lot of dating. You'd turn up to an assignment and it was like you were the only single girl at a party—all the other wives thought you were there to steal their husbands—only at work, they thought you were
going to steal their jobs. Everyone was so darn insecure, it was sad when you thought about it.
"That bruise looks pretty bad." Ben motioned to my arm. The blow had landed on the underside of my forearm and still throbbed, despite that I'd told Galloway it didn't hurt. He'd have made me go to the hospital if I let on I was in pain, and I had no intentions of another emergency room visit over a simple bruise.
I peered at it. Ben was right though, the bruise was pretty nasty. The red was changing to purple and dark blue blotches were appearing. "I think I'll ice it." Grabbing a packet of peas out of the freezer, I held them to my arm.
Ben was trying to pick up one of Brett's journals but having no luck. "I don't know about those." I sank back down onto the sofa and nodded at the journals strewn across the coffee table. "They're boring. Mostly fashion commentary. I've not come across anything remotely resembling witchcraft. I'm starting to wonder if Brett doesn't have some sort of mental disorder?"
"I wonder why I took the case then?" Ben leaned forward, elbows on knees, head hung low as he examined the rug beneath his feet.
"Hey," I said in a soothing tone. "It's not your fault you can't remember. I'll keep at it." He lifted his head and looked at me. "How did it go outside?" I nodded toward the back garden. "You were examining the grass pretty intently."
He flopped back in his chair, mimicking my pose. "I dunno. With so many people traipsing to and from the crime scene, it's been totally flattened."
"I'm sorry." I could see how frustrating it was to follow a lead to a dead end. I'd only just started this new career and I was already thinking in terms of leads and clues and dead ends.
"You had to have known, when you took the photos of Steven, that the woman involved was Sophie Drake." I leaned my head back and gazed up at the ceiling.
"Yeah."
"What would you do? Like, now? Knowing what we know, that it is Sophie Steven is having an affair with. What would your next steps be?"
