by CP Smith
“Ok. Then how do you get around bein’ recognized by half of Savannah?”
“Easy. I’ll just wear a wig and glasses. I’ll make myself look so different that Devin could walk right past me and never know.”
“That could actually work,” Poppy chuckled. “Should we begin tomorrow?”
Sienna gaped at us. “That’s assumin’ you can talk her mother into givin’ you jobs without prior experience cleanin’ or, I might add, without givin’ her your real name so she can run a background check, little miss heir to the Armstrong throne. There is no way you can pull this off without bein’ found out.”
“Piece of cake,” I said. “I’ll just tell her we were sent to investigate by the PI workin’ the case. By the time Devin or Maria’s mother figure out what we’re doin’, we’ll have searched for the evidence.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Poppy beamed.
Sienna looked between Poppy and me and shook her head. “You both are T.S.T.L.; you know that, right?” she argued, referencing the acronym bibliophiles use about fictional characters that are so ridiculous in their behavior that they’re ‘too stupid to live.’
I looked at Poppy and smiled. “Good thing we read so much. We’ll know exactly what not to do.”
“Right. Like runnin’ out of a house instead of investigatin’ a creepy noise,” Poppy chuckled.
“Or knowin’ that the least likely person is usually the killer,” I added.
Sienna smirked at us, rolling her eyes. “I still think you’re nuts,” she said rising from her chair, “but I’ll help if you’re really gonna do this.”
“Easy peasy,” I smiled. “We can be in and out in a day or two, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Easy remains to be seen, but if you’re plannin’ on startin’ tomorrow, you need to find Maria’s mother and outfit yourselves with one of those cute uniforms they wear.”
“Oh goodie,” Poppy chuckled as she stood. “I look hot in gray scrubs. Maybe I’ll catch the eye of a hot guy while I’m scrubbin’ a toilet.”
“Yeah,” I joined in, rising, too. “Who needs speed datin’ when you can find your future man while washin’ his dirty clothes?”
Poppy’s nose scrunched. “Lordy, we better find somethin’ quickly. I’m not washin’ dirty drawers unless there’s orgasms involved.”
“Eww. I’m not washin’ dirty drawers period.”
“Ladies, you gotta take one for the team,” Sienna snickered, holding open the door for us to leave. “You know what they say, ‘No pain, no gain.’”
Six
There’s a New Sheriff in Town
MONDAY MORNING CAME WITHOUT a single lead after a long night spent in Nate’s truck. Foo had stayed home all night—acting the innocent citizen Devin doubted she was—but looked out her blinds several times, scanning the street as if she could feel him watching.
Devin had kept watch all night to make sure she didn’t sneak out the back door and slither into the night. She hadn’t, and now he was headed home for a shower.
Frustrated about the progress he’d made, Devin climbed the outside stairs that led to his apartment and yanked open the door, coming face-to-face with Calla’s apartment.
Time to mark one item off my to-do list for the day.
He didn’t care if it was seven a.m.; it was time to settle things between them so he could concentrate on the job.
Moving to her door, he pounded hard enough to wake the dead.
Nothing.
He pounded again and called out, “Calla,” through gritted teeth.
Still nothing.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his lock pick and went to work on her deadbolt. He didn’t care if he was being intrusive. He’d had no sleep and fought a headache all night while trying to keep his mind on the job and off the kiss they’d shared. Her mouth won out every time his thoughts ventured there, warming his body with no chance of relief, so she owed him. He’d start with an explanation as to why she left him high and dry, then he’d take that mouth of hers until he’d had his fill and could function again.
He finally felt the cylinder turn, allowing the bolt assembly to retract inside the frame. As he opened the door, he called out Calla’s name one more time to keep from startling her.
She still didn’t respond.
Finding a light switch, Devin flipped it on and then grinned. Calla’s apartment was laid out like his but reversed, with the living room and dining room off the entry, but he could feel Calla’s presence on every surface.
Walls the color of her eyes were the backdrop for oversized down couches dressed in white covers that looked like you could sink into them and never get up. There were pillows in different hues of purple on every surface and soft-looking throws in the same light lavender as the walls. She had an old, weathered chest as a coffee table that looked to have been blue at one time, then painted white. The sky-blue color peeked out from beneath the white, giving the chest dimension and character. Her sofa tables were mismatched, but she’d painted them to match the walls then lightly sanded them until a layer of white shone through. There were also books scattered on every table, their covers as unique as the woman who lived there.
Devin moved to her bedroom door and opened it slowly. The light spilling in from the living room gave him a clear shot inside. In the center of her bedroom was a metal canopy bed with white billowing panels of sheer fabric designed to make her feel like a fairy princess and any man who entered her domain a conquering hero.
It was also empty. She’d already left for work.
Devin raised his hand to his nose and pinched the bridge. He was bone tired and didn’t have time to hunt Calla down until tonight. He had a full day ahead of him dealing with Carmella’s clients, and at some point, he had to catch a few hours of sleep before he headed out again to keep an eye on Foo.
Exhausted and frustrated, he left Calla’s apartment and headed to his own.
When he opened his door, the apartment felt off, so he scanned his living room. The boxes he’d yet to unpack were where he’d left them, but the feeling someone had been inside didn’t leave. Moving to his desk, Devin studied the contents and tried to picture how he’d left it. Everything seemed to be untouched until his eyes landed on a notepad. He’d used it to write down Maria’s address then tossed it toward the desk before leaving, but he’d missed the desk. It had fallen to the floor, and he hadn’t picked it up. Now it was on a stack of papers at the corner.
On a hunch, he flipped open his laptop and waited for it to wake up. Once it had booted up, he checked his Quick Access to see which files were opened last. He’d purchased the computer before moving to Savannah, and he hadn’t had time to transfer many of his files, but he had started one on Maria Espinoza. It was the last file accessed, which he knew was correct, so he moved to his browser history. The last website he’d visited was Amazon, searching for the Duke of St. Ives, but his history showed the Eight Thousand Waters Apartments.
“Jesus.” He hadn’t googled the apartment complex, because Calla was going with him.
Dropping his eyes to the next link on the list, his jaw tightened. He clicked the website and waited for it to load. Within seconds, he was staring back at a picture of himself, one of him shielding his face as he entered his former station in Atlanta. The caption read ‘Supercop Tracks Down Serial Killer.’ It was a byline a reporter by the name of Kendall Brown had given him after he’d rebuked her invitation to warm her bed. In her mind, she thought she could win him over by painting him as some sort of Superman. She’d even gone as far as talking to his elementary school teachers to find anything she needed to romanticize him in the public eye as a modern-day white knight.
It didn’t work. Instead, it pissed him off.
When he didn’t respond as she expected, she took to stalking him so he’d talk to her. But the final straw was when she broke into his apartment and climbed into his bed naked. He had her arrested for breaking and entering and hadn’t seen her s
ince her arraignment, where he’d agreed to drop the charges if she sought counseling. She’d agreed, and the last he’d heard she’d left Atlanta.
The headache he’d been fighting all night came back with full force.
Pounding on his front door drew his attention, so he closed his computer and moved toward the door on silent feet, pulling out his gun as he went. Peering through the peephole, he grumbled, “Just what I need,” as he holstered his gun and ripped open the door.
Bo Strawn was on the other side.
The detective didn’t look happy.
Proving Devin’s assessment of his mood, Strawn shoved a newspaper in his gut and entered his apartment without invitation, growling, “We need to talk.”
“Make yourself at home,” Devin answered sarcastically then unfolded the newspaper, scanned it, bit out, “Christ,” and then slammed the door.
✿✿✿
“I took his monster cock into my mouth and . . .”
“Ugh, Wuthering Heights it’s not,” I grumbled as I reached half-asleep for my second cup of coffee for the day.
After taking food over to Maria’s mother and explaining our plan to work for her on Tuesday, the same work day Maria disappeared, I’d had a sleepless night—sleepless because I’d spent the night listening for Devin to come home, which he didn’t, I might add—and given up and come to work early.
I’d tossed and turned wondering when he would come home and confront me, and then, the later it got, I began wondering where he was and just who the hell he was with until I’d driven myself crazy. When I took to looking out the window, hoping to see his Harley pull up, I’d called myself all kinds of a ninny and gotten dressed.
Now I was sitting at my desk still wondering what he was doing and who he was doing it with while attempting to edit The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Dick.
I heard my name called out and turned to see Sienna coming my way at a clipped pace, clutching a newspaper to her chest. When I opened my mouth to say hi, she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my chair, dragging me toward the break room.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“The dead man was Billy Ray Stutter,” she said as she closed the door, ensuring we had privacy, then handed me the newspaper.
“I heard on the radio already,” I told her.
“There’s more,” she returned.
Opening the newspaper, I scanned the headline and froze.
In bold print above a picture of Devin were the words “There’s a New Sheriff in Town.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered as I began reading the account of how Devin and an unidentified female had found Billy Ray after following leads in the disappearance of Maria Espinoza.
“This is bad,” I mumbled. “How the hell did this guy know about Maria?”
“This Charles Taft guy says Devin is some kind of Supercop. The article is more about Devin than Billy Ray’s murder. He even talks about how he’s single and ripe for the pickin’.”
“What?”
She pointed to the paragraph, and my stomach dropped. Women would be pounding down his door now. I kept reading about Devin’s accomplishments, but something more important occurred to me, and my stomach dropped again.
“Oh. My. God. Whoever’s after Maria is gonna know that Devin is looking for them! After reading this,” I shook the paper, “I bet they’ve cleaned every surface of their house and gotten rid of any evidence.”
“You’re right,” she gasped. “Is it still worth snooping tomorrow?”
“I don’t think we have a choice if we want to help find Maria, but I doubt we’ll find anything now.”
“Maybe you should let it go? I’ve had a bad feelin’ about this insane plan of yours from the start.”
Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes and tried to think.
“No, I think we should still try. If the person knows Devin is lookin’ for them, they’re bound to be nervous. And with the cops involved now, that means added pressure. They may have gotten rid of evidence, but they’ll be jumpy. We could still clean and look for odd behavior while we’re there.”
“This is true, but you gotta remember, they’ll also be on the lookout for anyone snoopin’ around. You could be puttin’ yourself and Poppy in danger.”
She had a point.
Pushing off the wall, I began pacing. “Dammitalltohell,” I bit out. “Who is this Taft guy, and how did he find out about Maria?”
“He’s a reporter,” was her helpful response.
“I know that,” I snapped. “But how?”
“They’re all like dogs with a bone. He probably has informants at the police station.”
“Yes, but how did he know about Maria? We didn’t say anything to the police.”
There was a knock at the door, followed by Poppy saying, “Let me in.” Sienna opened the door for her, and she slid inside as I paced.
“Cali,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper, “there’s a Detective Strawn here to see you, and he looks really pissed.”
I spun around and stared at the door, expecting the detective to burst through at any moment.
“Shit. I’m going to jail for lyin’ to the man, I just know it.”
“Do you want me to stall him while you sneak out the back stairs?” Poppy asked.
I looked at Sienna then back at Poppy and actually considered fleeing for a half a second.
“No,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’ll go face the music.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sienna said as she opened the door, “You’re Preston Armstrong’s granddaughter. The man would have to be an idiot to lock you—”
We’d no more exited the break room when Sienna stopped dead in her tracks, causing Poppy and me to collide with her back. I looked over her shoulder to see what had stopped her and found Detective Strawn standing right in front of us, his attention fully on Sienna.
“He heard you, didn’t he?” I whispered in her ear.
She confirmed my suspicion by nodding slowly.
“Great. Just great,” I bit out, pushing past Sienna. “This is what I get for steppin’ outside my comfort zone. You told me to get on the back of his bike when all I wanted to do was draw a map.” I pointed at Sienna in accusation, ignoring the detective. “Wear somethin’ cute, you said. Not run the other way! I should have called Poppy, she would have told me to run. Now I’m goin’ to jail for listenin’ to you!”
“Ms. Armstrong,” Detective Strawn said, but I ignored him.
“You were bein’ stupid,” Sienna argued back. “Devin’s a good man.”
“If he’s such a good man, then why am I goin’ to jail? A good man wouldn’t have dragged me into this!”
“Ms. Armstrong,” the detective tried again, but I threw up my hand to silence him.
“And not only am I goin’ to jail, I also have to move, thanks to Poppy and her, ‘He’s a good man. You’re makin’ a mistake.’”
“I think she’s losin’ it,” Poppy mumbled to Sienna, and they both had the nerve to smile.
“I’m not losin’ it,” I bit out, then turned to the detective and put my hands together so he could slap on the handcuffs, turning my head for a parting shot before I was hauled away. “I want a Wallflower divorce!”
Both women gasped at that announcement then started talking over each other.
“Marriage is for life,” Sienna cried out.
“Wallflowers don’t turn their backs on each other,” Poppy joined in.
“We’ve only been Wallflowers a whole two days,” I pointed out. “I’ll get an annulment, and it’ll be like it never happened.”
I turned to Detective Strawn to see why he hadn’t slapped the cuffs on yet and found he’d moved and was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.
“Are we doin’ this or what?”
He grinned. Actually grinned like he thought something was funny.
“Definitely worth lyin’, stealin’ or killin’ for,” he oddly said, his gaze scanning the
three of us. “And Wallflowers to boot.”
“Ex-Wallflowers,” I reminded him. “Now, haul me downtown so I can call my lawyer.”
“You’re not under arrest,” Detective Strawn announced.
I blinked once. Twice. Then narrowed my eyes.
“You better not be afraid to arrest me ‘cause of my granddaddy. I will not be treated differently just ‘cause he has money.”
“Nope.”
“Then I don’t understand?”
Strawn looked at Poppy and Sienna then jerked his head toward the break room. “Since I found your accomplices right along with you, I might as well make this speech once. Follow me,” he said, then turned and started walking.
“Oh, God. He found out we were there yesterday and he’s makin’ a group arrest,” Poppy whispered as we followed. But Strawn heard her with the bat hearing all cops have and stopped in his tracks, his head falling back on his shoulders.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Strawn grumbled at the ceiling, “I suggest you use it before I change my mind.”
I elbowed Poppy in the side, then followed the man.
Strawn was tall like Devin, well built with medium brown hair and gray eyes that spoke of intelligence. Intelligence that said he missed nothing. I knew it would be pointless to lie to the man, which was a good thing, because the minute the door closed behind the four of us, he whipped around and bit out, “I’m gonna say this one time and you’d better listen. Leave the investigatin’ to me. Whatever harebrained scheme you ladies have to dig around in an official investigation will land you in jail.”
“Um,” was my intelligent response as I looked at Poppy and Sienna.
“How did you know?” Sienna questioned.
“I met with Carmella Espinoza this morning.”
“She ratted us out?” Poppy gasped.
Strawn narrowed his eyes. “She brought me up-to-date on Hawthorne’s investigation and mentioned he had female partners who were gonna go undercover for him.” Strawn moved closer to me and leaned down, getting right in my face. “She said the ladies in question were two blondes and a brunette named after flowers, but couldn’t remember the names. She said she thought one of them was named Poppy.” He shot a look at Poppy, who grimaced. She also remembered that the leader of the pack had the most unusual color of eyes. Said they were like periwinkles on a spring day.”
