Ready to Fumble (The Worst Detective Ever Book 1)

by Christy Barritt

  “Well, I’d hate to put him off.” I quickly finished edging Jackson’s neck and removed the cape from around him. “All done! Dizzy can help you check out. And thanks so much for coming in today.”

  I took the phone and escaped to the office. I only looked back once while Jackson was walking way.

  That was when I noticed his hairline was . . . crooked.

  My blood left my face.

  I was going to be terrible at this job.

  Two

  “So Jackson’s cute, huh?” Dizzy said when I wandered back into the salon after talking with my landlord, who wanted to remind me to take out the trash tomorrow.

  The neighbor the next house over complained about the smell. It could have something to do with the cabbage diet I’d tried for the past two days. I’d ended up throwing the leftovers away, and now it smelled superbad—like my own little sauerkraut factory outside the house.

  “Jackson? I wasn’t really paying attention.” Well, I was. Kind of. But I shouldn’t have been.

  Police shared a loyalty to each other. If the chief was somehow involved in my father’s disappearance, Detective Sullivan would no doubt take his side. Police looked out for each other like that. I should know since Eric’s brother had also been a cop. Eric was my ex-husband of six months, but we’d been separated for six months before that.

  “He’s single . . .” Dizzy said the words with a singsong voice and her hands clasped in front of her.

  Dizzy had no idea what my love life looked like in the past. I’d only mentioned it to my dad right before he disappeared. If Dizzy knew how my happily ever after had turned into a nightmare ever after, she’d never even suggest that I date someone. For real.

  “I don’t need a man in my life,” I finally said. Especially not a detective. I knew the statistics. Domestic violence in the homes of police officers? It was hidden, but it was real. Too real.

  I’d never put myself in that position again.

  “Oh, well, of course you don’t need one. But what fun a good man can add! If I looked like you, I’d be lining up dates with a different guy every weekend because . . . why not? Oh wait. You’re interested in your neighbor, right? Now it’s making sense.”

  “My neighbor?” I grabbed a broom and began sweeping my station.

  “Oh, don’t look so dumbfounded. The one who always brings you coffee.”

  I paused. Always was an exaggeration. He’d come by this morning. Once. “You’re talking about Zane Oakley? I’m not interested in Zane. We’re . . . like you said, neighbors.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  I finished sweeping up Jackson’s hair, feeling dizzy after talking with Dizzy, which only made her name so appropriate.

  After I discarded the hair scraps, I plopped down in the twirly, glittery chair. I had no more appointments scheduled for the rest of the day. There was nothing worse than not having anything to do though. Nothing worse.

  It gave me too much time to think. Think about my past mistakes. Think about the consequences to my mistakes. Think about how life would be different right now if I’d been wiser.

  But unlike bad hair, in life there were no do-overs. Nope, sometimes you just had to wait for it all to grow out. And there was always an awkward stage.

  That was me right now.

  Awkward.

  Not sure where I fit in. Not sure how long I’d be here. No idea what my future looked like.

  The important thing was for me to find some answers about what had happened to my dad. Because I feared it was my fault he’d disappeared.

  It only made sense that I’d come here, to a place where he’d lived for the past seven years, and try to figure out the pieces of his life.

  Speaking of missing persons . . .

  I plucked up the paper the crazy woman had left. On a business card I saw that her name was Lily Livingston. She was . . . I looked for a title. Nothing apparently. But there was a phone number there in a fancy-looking font. Out of curiosity, I opened the check.

  My eyes widened.

  Five thousand dollars.

  Five thousand dollars? That amount of money could go really far. It could help me pay my rent. Maybe buy some groceries. Maybe take away some of the stress that my bad decisions had caused. Even though my old show was in syndication, I was broke.

  Long story.

  “What is it?” Dizzy whipped out her fan again. “Are you going to take the case?”

  “Dizzy, I know nothing about solving crimes.” Besides, finding my dad was my top priority. He was the whole reason I was here.

  She waved her hand in the air like I’d just said I still believed in Santa. “Oh, don’t be silly. Didn’t you learn anything on your show?”

  I’d learned a lot. That acting was hard work. That fame could ruin anyone. That I had to be careful whom I trusted.

  “Sure, I learned the lingo,” I said instead. “I learned how to fake it.”

  “Oh, come on! They taught you how to shoot a gun,” she reminded me.

  “True.”

  “And you got to tail a real-life detective a few times.”

  “Also true.” I turned circles in the chair, tempted to put the purple star-studded cape on and pretend to be a superhero.

  But that would be childish. I was twenty-seven. Too old for that kind of thing.

  I totally planned on doing it when no one was looking though.

  “I know you tried to be a method actor by learning as much as you could. Didn’t you even get your PI license?” She crossed her arms and stared.

  She and my father had obviously talked a lot. And here I’d thought all this time that I’d brought him only disappointment.

  I stopped spinning. “Well, I did. But not so I could use it. Just so I could see what was involved.”

  She planted her foot on the ground and nodded. “You’re the woman for the job. It’s a sign. You call it acting. I call it training.”

  “There are no such things as signs.”

  “Sure there are. You’ve just got to open your eyes!”

  I stared at the card again. I certainly couldn’t make a living getting one or two clients a day here at the shop. I was just getting paid a commission, after all. Besides, this was my opportunity to keep my acting skills fresh. The more I could learn through this case, the more knowledge I could apply when searching for my father.

  Maybe I would give Lily a call. Just this once, I’d pretend to be Raven Remington.

  What did I have to lose?

  I had everything to lose, I realized as I sat across from Lily that evening. We’d met at a local smoothie bar called Oh Buoy. It was right across the street from Beach Combers and a personal favorite of mine, even if the name was awful.

  The place had wonderful fruity drink creations that they’d named after local beaches, creations like Mirlo Sunrise and Coquina Crush. The waitresses—yes, they were all female—wore tank tops and jean shorts, despite the frigid weather outside.

  Lily was waiting for me at a tiki-themed booth when I walked in. She stood and waved me over, her entire face lighting up like a . . . a crazy woman.

  Had I mentioned that yet? I knew crazy. I’d worked with actors. Okay, I’d been an actor. We were the craziest of the bunch.

  Which was precisely why I was mentally naming this meeting “Episode 304.” In my third season, Raven Remington had met with a widow whose lover had disappeared. Of course, Raven had solved the case using her sheer intelligence and courage to face the hard questions.

  I would tap into that now and channel my inner Raven.

  “I’m so glad you came.” Lily’s voice sounded grim among the happy tunes of the Beach Boys playing overhead. “You’ll be perfect for this job. Can I get you a smoothie?”

  I’d love one, but I’d have to wait. I just wanted to get this over with.

  I had no doubt Lily was going to see through me. I’d even gone home quickly and changed into a black T-shirt and black leather jacket. Black had been Raven’s favorite c
olor.

  I didn’t have many talents, but acting was one of them. I needed to use that now.

  “There’s one thing we need to be straight on.” I used my kick-butt voice. I’d perfected it, even using it to voice a character in a cartoon once. “You have to stop interrupting me. Understood? It’s annoying as heck, and it makes me want to snap your head off and feed it to the sharks circling below the pier out there.”

  Lily’s eyes widened. Not in horror. No, she was thrilled, and I knew why. I sounded like Raven, and that was really what she wanted.

  “Of course.” Her fingers gripped her orange-colored smoothie, and satisfaction lit her gaze. “Anything you say.”

  I tapped my finger on the table. “First of all, tell me about this boyfriend who’s missing.”

  Raven would remember all the details without ever writing anything down. I didn’t have that luxury. I could memorize scripts, but not stuff like this. It was why I’d secretly turned on my phone’s recorder and stuck it in my purse. It was my only hope of keeping these details straight.

  “His name is Simon Philips, and he’s the love of my life.” Her red lips turned down in a frown. She shoved her Manteo Mango aside and stared out the window a moment.

  It was too bad this place didn’t have a view of the peaceful beach instead of Croatan Highway and a dumpster.

  “Where does Simon live, Lily?”

  “We’re from Georgia. But he loved it up here in the Outer Banks. Loved it.”

  So had my dad. He’d given up everything to move here for a slower pace of life.

  My heart panged at the thought, but I pushed it aside.

  “How long have you and Simon been dating?” I continued.

  “Two years.”

  “Why do you think he came here? Other than the fact that he loved it.” I resisted repeating her drawling inflection, and kept my voice steady and even, just like Raven would. I think it was an occupational hazard: mimicking accents. I’d embarrassed myself more than once, especially around Brits.

  Lily’s frown deepened. “He was mad at me.”

  “So he came here?” This woman wasn’t making much sense. Most people when they got mad went on a walk or took a hot bath.

  “Yes. This is where he always came to de-stress.”

  “So you were stressing him out?” I clarified.

  She pressed her blood-red fingertips onto the tabletop like a lioness about to pounce. “Precisely. He thought I was bossy and overbearing. Can you believe that?”

  I could completely believe that. “Maybe he just needs some time alone. Maybe he doesn’t want you to find him here.”

  “He’s been gone three days. That’s a little ri-dic-u-lous, if you know what I mean. Besides, if everything was okay, why not tell me? Why not tell his family where he was going? No, something is wrong.”

  “Do you have any proof that he was here?”

  “Intuition.”

  I leaned back into the hard wooden booth behind me and processed what she’d told me. “From what you’ve said, you don’t have a case, Lily. I’m sorry.”

  At least, I didn’t think she had a case. Would Raven Remington disagree?

  Well, Raven? Would you?

  I waited for my alter ego to answer.

  Alter ego? Maybe I’d developed a split personality. I needed to get this under control.

  “Of course I have a case.” Lily wobbled her head back and forth like the obvious was staring me in the face.

  “I have absolutely nothing to go on,” I continued. “Feelings don’t constitute an investigation. Do you even know for a fact that Simon is here?”

  Lily pulled out her phone, tapped away at the screen, and then handed it to me. “Look at this.”

  I glanced at a map that had a little digital thumbtack marked on Beach Road in Nags Head. It was a screenshot, I realized, and my brilliant deductive skills led me to believe this was somehow connected with Simon. I had no idea how though.

  “Explain.” That’s what Raven would have said.

  Lily raised her chin, as if she wasn’t proud of what she was about to say. “I was tracking Simon with an app on my phone. That was the last location his GPS marked him at. Then it went dead. He must have remembered we were connected digitally like this, and he turned it off. Or something happened to him and his phone. But believe me. He loved that phone, almost more than he loved me. He wouldn’t have willingly parted ways with it.”

  I studied the crossroads on Beach Road, making a mental note of the location. What was situated in that area? It wasn’t far from where I was staying. I closed my eyes, trying to recall riding down the street.

  That was when it hit me.

  Willie Wahoo’s Bar and Grill was located there. I remembered because so few restaurants were open in the area at this time of year, but that was one of them. And they had a vegan menu. It wasn’t very good, but it worked in a pinch. Yes, in the three days since I’d been here, I’d already utilized their to-go menu. Eating out was one of my vices.

  “Did you already go to this location yourself to ask about Simon?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been in town for long enough to stop by Utter Clutter and then your salon. I did consider it, but I’m not really the kind of girl who gets her hands dirty, if you know what I mean.”

  I didn’t really like the way that sounded, but I pressed onward. “What does Simon do for a living?”

  “He’s an attorney who’s been down on his luck lately.” She leaned closer. “Can I be honest?”

  “Please do.” It was much preferred to being deceitful.

  Lily rubbed her lips together. “I’ve been worried about Simon lately. I feared he was going to hurt himself. That’s the main reason I’m here. I have to find him before he does something . . . undoable.”

  “Like suicide?” My blood ran cold.

  She shrugged, like she didn’t want to commit. “Maybe. It’s hard to say. I mean, I would hope not, but . . .”

  “Of course. But why would you even suspect that?”

  “He’s been moody. Preoccupied. Easily angered. Not like himself at all. My gut feeling is that something was stressing him out at work. His boss was overbearing. Simon really didn’t enjoy the job, but you don’t go to school for seven years only to walk away. At least, Simon didn’t.”

  I remained quiet and unmoving, trying to stay in character. It came more easily than I thought it would. “I see. Tell me about yourself, Lily.”

  So she did. She was thirty-three. Her dad was a state judge in Georgia. She’d met Simon at a fundraiser for a local politician. They’d fallen in love at first sight. Right now, she wasn’t working, but instead she helped with some social justice fundraisers.

  I could read between the lines: she was a trust-fund baby, living on her family’s wealth. Everything about her screamed it.

  “Money is no problem,” she said, almost as if she could read my thoughts. “Is five thousand dollars enough to get you started?”

  I shrugged, like payment was no big deal, while my insides did cartwheels. “It should work for now. I’m going to need a picture of Simon also.”

  She nodded, hit a few more buttons on her phone, and then asked for my number. Three seconds later, a text with Simon’s photo appeared on my screen. I aimed the face of the phone toward me and subtly turned off the recorder.

  Then I stared at his picture a moment. Simon looked like the proverbial man next door. He had clean-cut brown hair, a smooth face, a toned body. Simon Philips, I repeated mentally.

  He was someone’s son. Someone’s boyfriend. Probably a lot of people’s friend.

  Even though I’d channeled my alter ego, life or death wasn’t meant to be a joke.

  I squared my eyes with Lily’s.

  “You know I’m really not Raven Remington, right?”

  She blinked. “Of course I know that. But you couldn’t have played her so well if part of you wasn’t her.”

  “Maybe I was just a great actress.” The wo
rds pained me to say, but they were true.

  She flippantly waved a hand in the air, dismissing my claim. “That’s not true. Believe me. I have a good sense of these things.”

  And before I could say anything else, she grabbed her purse, muttered “toodle-oo,” and left.

  Three

  I let out a breath when Lily was gone and I could stop acting like Raven and be Joey again. She totally believed in me more than I believed in myself.

  What was I thinking agreeing to do this? I had no real experience. Working as a PI on television gave me no expertise.

  I was sunk. I should give the money back and return to cutting hair. I’d have better luck trying to recruit the five thousand full-timers in the area to be my clients than I would tracking down this man.

  If my ex-husband hadn’t convinced me to make some really bad deals, I wouldn’t be having money problems right now. But I’d rather Eric have my money and be out of my life than for me to have money and deal with him.

  At the thought, I touched the scar along my arm and cringed.

  So stupid, Joey. You’ve been so stupid.

  “Hello, Joey,” a deep voice said beside me.

  Before I even looked up and saw his face, my cheeks heated. I knew who it was, even though I’d met him only once. I already recognized that North Carolina drawl.

  Jackson Sullivan.

  I raised my head, wishing my cheeks weren’t as red as I knew they were.

  Had the detective recognized that I’d screwed up his haircut? Was he coming to reprimand me?

  Current client list: negative one.

  “Hello, Detective.”

  Without invitation, he slid into the booth across from me. His eyes were just as studious as ever. And that meant trouble.

  I didn’t have to be Raven Remington to know that.

  “Did you take the case?” Jackson’s eyes didn’t only pierce mine. They pierced my small ego until it popped like a balloon and flew over the room, making farting noises and eventually dying a quick death.

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “And you’re qualified to look into this, how?”