Wallflowers:Three of a Kind

by CP Smith

  All three blinked. Then blinked again. Then they opened their mouths, but nothing came out.

  I shrugged, because what else was there to say? My life was a damn suspense novel.

  “Screw Alexandra,” Poppy finally mumbled. “Break room, now.”

  “Normally, I would be appalled by that statement,” Alexandra Poe stated. I turned slowly at her voice and found her leaning against a wall near the entrance to our floor. The Grand Dame of Poe Publishing was seventy, but she looked closer to sixty. She had a shock of white hair in a short, stylish bob and sharp eyes that missed nothing. And apparently the hearing of an elephant.

  She pushed off the wall, clasping her fire-engine red-tipped fingers in front of her and started moving toward us.

  Poppy moaned softly and took a step behind Sienna, pushing her forward.

  Alexandra raised a brow at Poppy and chuckled. “I said normally I would be appalled. I’m inclined to let it go considerin’ I just got off the phone with Preston, and the arrogant asshole had the gall to ask me to fire Calla.”

  “What?” I gasped.

  “You heard me correctly. The man’s insufferable.”

  “Alexandra,” I began, stepping forward, “please don’t listen to him. I love my job.”

  “Listen to him?” she scoffed. “I told him to take a hike; that you were one of my finest employees and it would be a cold day in Hell before I let you go. But after hearin’ what I just heard, I wish I’d told him what I really thought of him.”

  “I can handle him,” I told her.

  “You don’t handle men like Preston Armstrong, you cut them off at the knees. If you give me the word, Cali, I’ll slice them off without a second thought.”

  She could, too. My grandfather may have been the biggest employer in Savannah, but Alexandra was up there and had connections all over the world. With a single phone call, she could reduce our export production. With several phone calls, Armstrong Shipping would be hurting. But those who would be affected most were the employees who counted on their paychecks to support their family, not my grandfather who had more money than a king.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’m fine. But thank you for, um, bein’ willin’ to cut off his legs.”

  She watched me for a moment like a bug under a microscope then nodded, looking almost disappointed I didn’t give her the green light to cut my grandfather off at the knees. Then she turned to Sienna and raised a regal brow, who then moved immediately to follow her. As they turned the corner to her office, Sienna looked back at me and bugged out her eyes, then pointed at me and mouthed “Lunch.”

  “Weeellll,” Jolene drawled dramatically, “A good chewin’ on from Alexandra is one way to get your juices flowin’.”

  “I’d rather do it the old-fashioned way,” I mumbled.

  “Oh? And how’s that?”

  I turned and grinned at her. “Editin’ a well-written steamy sex scene usually does it.”

  “Sugar, from what I just heard, you don’t need fiction to help you in that department.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “You wanna know somethin’?” I asked.

  “If it requires details about your sex life, then by all means, share.”

  Poppy and Jolene both leaned in, their focus centered on my answer.

  “You know how we always say that men in books are better than real life?”

  They both nodded. Riveted to my answer.

  “It’s all lies. All of it. Real men are way better.”

  “That’s it?” Jolene replied disgruntled. “Sugar, I could have told you that.”

  “You could have?” Poppy and I both replied.

  “Of course. They’re just words on a page. Real men come with baggage you gotta fix. Muscles that keep you safe. And hearts that beat only for you. Not to mention a little somethin’ between the legs that’ll send you straight to heaven and back. Repeatedly, if you give them time to recover.”

  I looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “Sometimes they don’t even need time to recover.”

  “Now, that’s more like it.” Jolene smiled.

  Poppy threw her hands up and started backing to the exit. “Say no more. If I have to be around this man, I don’t need to know this.” Then she paused in her tracks. “Really? No recovery time at all?”

  “Not so far,” I answered.

  “God, you suck. First time out of the gate, and you land Superman,” she grumbled then turned and left, hollering, “Lunch,” as she went.

  Jolene raised a brow at me in question.

  “She has daddy issues.”

  “Aww, that explains it. But don’t we all, sugar?” she questioned before turning to leave.

  She was wrong and she was right, of course. Some of us, unfortunately, had grandfather issues instead.

  Twelve

  What’s my Job?

  DEVIN WAITED NEXT TO STRAWN’S desk while he brought his captain up-to-date. He looked around the station, reflecting on his past. The burnt aroma of coffee mixed with sweat was a subtle reminder of all he’d left behind in Atlanta. And none of it, he decided without a second thought, held a candle to what he’d found since arriving in Savannah. Calla’s smile was worth anything he’d left behind, but coupled with her innocence in a world that turned most into cynics, he felt like he’d won the fucking lottery.

  Rising when Strawn exited his captain’s office in a rush, he fell into step with him as he headed for the elevator.

  “Captain said it isn’t enough for a warrant,” Strawn mumbled low. “Jones may not be Armstrong, but he’s Armstrong’s right hand, so he needs more proof before goin’ to the DA.”

  Disgusted, Devin growled, “And you wonder why I left the force?”

  “I know exactly why you left,” Strawn agreed. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “All right. We can discuss it after we find Maria’s killer.”

  “Deal,” Strawn answered. “Until then, we need to find a way to prove that Jones was involved, so let’s run it down.”

  “Fact,” Devin started, all business. “We know Jones is right-handed, so he didn’t kill Billy Ray. At most, he’s an accessory.”

  “What about that giant of a bodyguard Armstrong employs?”

  Devin shook his head. “He led with his right when he came at me.”

  Punching the down button, Strawn bit out, “Then who the fuck are we lookin’ for?”

  “All this ties to Jones needin’ money for a shipment. We need to follow Stutter’s money to the seller.”

  “Can Parker do that without compromisin’ his position?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Devin said, pulling out his phone.

  The call went to voicemail, so he left a message. They exited the station each heading for their vehicle. As Devin neared his bike, he began scanning it. He’d never ride again without first checking his brakes.

  “What about Yoo?” Strawn said.

  “I haven’t caught up with her. She’s been AWOL at her office when I’ve gone past.”

  “Feel like takin’ a ride now?” Strawn asked.

  “No time like the present.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Strawn stated, climbing inside his truck.

  Devin led him into the heart of Savannah. The striking difference between old Savannah and the rest of the city still amazed him. It was as if time stood still within the three-and-a-half mile historic district, yet the rest of the city was forgotten. Streets filled with rundown businesses and homes, housing panhandlers from all walks of life, were all within a block of million-dollar brownstones. Yoo’s business’ headquarters was on a similar rundown street.

  The homeless watched as they drove up, their curiosity piqued, so Devin parked his bike where he could see it. Losing two bikes in two days would be a bitter pill to swallow, one he didn’t think his insurance company would believe.

  Strawn knocked on the wrought iron security door, pulling his badge out as they waited. They heard the sound of footst
eps inside, but they seemed to be heading toward the back instead of the front.

  “We’ve got a runner,” Strawn bit out, peeling off for the back of the building.

  Unholstering his 9mm, Devin stepped back and sighted the front door. If they doubled back in an attempt to outsmart Strawn, he’d be ready.

  Moments passed, but there was no movement at the front door. Then Devin heard shrieking from the rear of the building. He took off, putting a hand to the metal railing in his path. He cleared it without missing a beat and headed for the back. When he rounded the corner, he found Strawn on the ground wrestling with an Asian woman who had to be six-feet tall and built like a tank.

  “You need help?” Devin asked, smiling.

  “Get my fuckin’ cuffs,” Strawn growled, grappling with her hands as she tried to claw his face.

  She wrestled one free and drew back her hand, screaming, “You no take me to jail,” before she clocked Strawn in the jaw. His head snapped back, and he lost control of the second hand, giving her the opportunity she needed. She bucked her huge frame and rolled until she was on top of Strawn. That’s when Devin stopped laughing. He charged whom he decided was Yoo, and slammed into her, taking her back to the ground and off Strawn before she smothered him. When he slid off her in an attempt to subdue her hands, she got in a left hook, and Devin saw stars.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” Strawn bit out as he got to his knees, his breath punching from his lungs like a racehorse. “Who’s laughin’ now, Hawthorne?”

  Devin blocked another left-handed punch, his muscles straining against the weight, then he barked back, “She’s left-handed.”

  “I noticed that when she punched me the first time.”

  Strawn took his time pulling the cuffs from his pocket, enjoying the show now that he wasn’t on the receiving end.

  “If she’d been in the video last night, instead of a voice in the background, I might have come here sooner.”

  She rolled again, half-smothering Devin, so he put his forearm to her throat and pressed hard against it, hoping the loss of oxygen would slow her down.

  “Word to the wise,” Strawn said. “If you cut off her air, she’ll pass out on top on you.”

  “Fang Ken Yoo no go to jail,” Yoo shrieked, rolling away from Devin.

  “I think she told you to fuck off,” Strawn grinned.

  Devin dodged her fist, replying, “Nope. It’s her name.”

  “Interestin’. She’s surprisingly strong, don’t you think?” Strawn added. “You want some help?”

  “Take a seat. I’ll be done in a minute,” Devin growled, rolling with Yoo, ready to put her in a choke hold if he had to. “I wasn’t raised to hit a lady, Ms. Yoo, so please don’t tempt me.”

  She tried to get to her knees, but Strawn was ready with the cuffs. He slapped one onto her left wrist then twisted her arm until it was behind her back. When she tried to roll again, Devin dove for her other arm and pulled it behind her back. Off balance and without the use of her hands, Yoo pitched forward, taking both men with her as she landed on her face.

  Both Strawn and Devin were panting when they finally rose from the ground. As they stood, brushing grass from their jeans, a cheer erupted around them. Devin turned and found a crowd of homeless men and women, all with matching smiles.

  “Christ,” Strawn snapped. “What are the odds this stays quiet?”

  “Slim,” Devin scoffed. “Not with the way the streets talk. First patrolman they see will hear about it.”

  “Fuck,” Strawn bit out.

  “Not Fuck,” Devin grinned, his lips twitching, “Fang Ken Yoo.”

  ✿✿✿

  “Wait, so you’re sayin’ that Bobby Jones either killed Maria or was there when she died?” Sienna asked.

  I looked around the outdoor patio at Huey’s on River Street to make sure no one was listening. We’d left Poe to eat lunch so we could have privacy. Devin had ordered me to stay in the building, but the break room was always filled with employees with big ears and bigger mouths.

  “Devin said whoever killed Billy Ray was left-handed and Bobby isn’t, so there’s no way to know. I suppose it’s possible he wasn’t there and this other person orchestrated everything. We’ll just have to wait and see, but one thing’s for sure, Bobby knows somethin’ even if he wasn’t there, and he didn’t come forward. Not to mention, he was plottin’ to get me pregnant so he could marry me for my money.”

  “Have you asked your aunts about these supposed shares?”

  “Yeah. They said any money left to me was put into a trust that my grandfather controlled until I turned twenty-five. They didn’t know I owned half the family’s shares, and I never asked about the money, because I was saving it for my future children.”

  “Wouldn’t you have seen the amount on your tax return?” Poppy asked.

  “If I did my own. The company’s accountant always does them for me at my grandfather’s insistence, and if I owed anything, he cut a check for me. I’ve never bought a car or house, so I’ve had no need for a copy. When I went to college, his accountant sent the checks and forwarded any paperwork they needed. I’ve been pretty blind to a lot of things it seems.”

  Sienna shook her head. “Yep. You really did have your head in the sand.”

  “I figured that out last night. Granddaddy’s held his money over my head my entire life, and it turns out I’m as rich as him. That bein’ said, I’m relieved beyond words he wasn’t involved with Maria’s death. I despise him for so many things, but this? I don’t think I could have handled knowin’ that my flesh and blood committed such a heinous crime.”

  “What are you gonna do? Will you confront him about the money? About his lies?” Poppy asked.

  “Nothin’.”

  “Nothin’?”

  “It changes nothin’ except I know my future children can go to any college they choose, and I’ll be able to take care of my aunts ’til the end of their days in a way they should have been taken care of all along.”

  “Cali?” Sienna said, “It’s obvious your grandfather was all bluster last night when he said he would cut you off from his money. Clearly, he knew he couldn’t, so is it possible that he uses threats to get what he wants, but never actually executes those threats?”

  “You mean, did he actually cut my aunts from his will?”

  She nodded.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” I answered, wondering if it was true. Did he try to manipulate them the way he did me, only to lie about cutting them out? If that was true, that would mean he wasn’t as heartless as he appeared and there was still hope he’d change his ways.

  “Enough about your grandfather,” Poppy said, smiling. “Tell us all about devilish Devin.”

  Leaning back in my seat, I sighed dreamily. “He’s perfect.”

  Sienna began grinning as well, and said, “Do tell.”

  “Nothin’ to tell, he’s just perfect.”

  “Rose-colored glasses,” Poppy mumbled. “No man is that perfect,” she answered looking over my shoulder.

  “I don’t mean he’s perfect, perfect, just that he’s perfect for me.”

  The hair on the side of my neck was swept away, followed by warm lips. “You think I’m perfect?” Devin purred in my ear. “But not perfect enough to follow my orders to stay inside, I see.”

  Instead of feeling embarrassed at having been overheard, I raised my hand and buried it in his hair. “I do, and I’m not alone, so I’m not disobeying technically,” I whispered, turning my head. “What are you doin’ here? I thought you were with Detective Strawn huntin’ bad guys.”

  He took the chair next to me and sat down, throwing his arm around my shoulders until I was tucked in tight against his side. Then he picked up one of my hands and started to fiddle with a ring on my index finger.

  “Bad woman,” he finally answered.

  “Pardon?”

  “We were huntin’ a bad woman, not a bad guy.”

  “You’ve lost me,”
I answered.

  “We went to interview Fang Yoo. She ran, and we had to subdue her. She’s in lockup now waitin’ to be interrogated.”

  I turned and looked at him in shock and noticed he had a bruise under his right eye that was beginning to swell.

  Did she punch him?

  Images of Devin chasing a tiny Asian woman around her yard as she ran for her freedom filled my head, and I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing. But I had to know if this big, bad, tough guy had been clocked by a woman, so I raised my hand to his cheek and asked on a choked laugh, “Did she punch you?”

  His jaw tightened.

  I snorted then covered my mouth.

  “With her left hand,” he bit out, and all humor faded away.

  “Yoo is left-handed?” I gasped.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sayin’ that you think Yoo killed Billy Ray?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Maria?”

  “Jury’s still out on that. She was strangled, so it could have been either one.”

  “What about Taft? Did she kill him as well?”

  Devin looked at Poppy and Sienna then looked back at me. “Angle of the wound suggests a right-handed person. He was lyin’ down on the bed when the deathblow came.”

  “So it wasn’t Yoo,” I mumbled.

  “Unlikely.”

  “So Bobby killed Taft?”

  His jaw grew tighter.

  “I found out right before I came here that his whereabouts are accounted for during the time of the murder.”

  “Are you sayin’ there’s a fourth person involved?”

  “No. I’m sayin’ Jones’ whereabouts have been accounted for by a witness. We have to prove otherwise.”