Zeph Undercover

by Jenny Andersen

  “More investigation. You can help.”

  “I’ll help, all right,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Great. Tell me about his income.”

  “Investments, Social Security, and 401K. And when we find proof of Dad’s innocence, I just might say ‘I told you so.’”

  “You might say, ‘Thank you for clearing Dad.’”

  “Of course. But first, we have another fun family evening of pretending everything is hunky dory and that you’re really here because of me.”

  “It’s not a lie, Allie.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a job.”

  “True. But I’d for damned sure be trying to get you to L. A. You can bet money on that.”

  He wanted her to visit him. Hard on the heels of the zing of pleasure came memories of the evening she’d spent at his house. Yeah, sure she’d go to L. A. again. Sure. Like her last visit was such a success.

  Silence frosted the inside of the truck for the rest of the ride to her father’s house. She drove mechanically, trying not to think about L .A., trying not to think about that moment at City Hall when she’d believed, just for an instant, that Zeph really did want to move to Stone’s Crossing and build a house. God, could she have been any more pathetic?

  She parked the truck behind her father’s SUV. Before she could get out, Zeph had come around to open her door. “It’s not all pretense, Allie. Why assume Betty’s wrong?”

  “Betty?” Allie turned to slide to the ground.

  Zeph put his hands at her waist and lifted her. Let her slide down his body in a slow, seductive skim that set her glowing. “I am courting you, Allie.”

  Before she could answer, the front door burst open and her sister bounded down the steps. “Allie, Allie. I’m home.” She hit like an oversized puppy, all floppy hair and enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Winn!” Allie hugged her. “Welcome home.”

  “And Zeph, too.” Winn pulled him into the hug.

  “Hello, Winn,” Zeph said. “You’re looking a whole lot better than last time I saw you.”

  “Considering that was in the hospital after that jerk Derek had knocked me out, you’re not saying much.” Winn bounced away, leaving Allie in Zeph’s arms.

  Allie’s head somehow nestled against his shoulder. Maybe she could just stay here forever.

  His hold tightened. “Definitely courting you.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, a weak little breath of sound. She jerked away from him. Oh? Oh? Since when did she make girl noises like that? “We should—”

  “Go inside? Yes.” He followed her into the front parlor. “But I’d rather stay with you,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers along her nerves.

  Her father stood by a butler’s cart, pouring himself a drink.

  “Got one of those for me, Dad?” Allie asked.

  “Me too,” Winn said.

  “Is the child really old enough to drink?” Allie winked at Zeph.

  “The child is definitely of age. You missed a lot of things being away at school.” Winn accepted a stingy glass from her father. “Welcome back, Zeph,” she said, raising it to him. “Planning to take down another mayor?”

  “No, dear,” her father said. “He’s after your sister.”

  “Good idea.” Winn’s face lit and she hugged him again. “Hope you catch her. You’d make an awfully nice addition to the family. Ow!” She swatted Allie’s hand away. “You pinched me.”

  “Well, you embarrassed me. Try to act like an adult for once.”

  Her father turned his back on his daughters. “Scotch?” he said to Zeph, pointedly ignoring them. When Zeph nodded, he poured from an antique cut-glass decanter.

  Zeph accepted the glass. “Thank you, sir.” He tasted, and raised an eyebrow. “Laphroig? I didn’t expect that here.”

  “I’d say you have the typical urbanite’s misconceptions about small towns,” her dad told him in his most judicial tones.

  “Da-a-ad,” Winn protested. “What are the chances anyone else in town has anything like that?”

  “The mayor?” Allie murmured.

  “He doesn’t count. He’s not from around here,” Winn protested.

  “He’s the mayor. How much more around here can you get?” Allie asked.

  “But he only moved here—”

  “Do they always do this?” Zeph murmured to Allie’s father.

  “Pretty much.”

  Allie tugged Winn across the room to join the men. Even as she linked her arm through Zeph’s, she knew she couldn’t prevent any conversations he might want to have with her father. Not with him staying at the house. But she’d be damned if he’d do interrogation mode in her presence.

  “So what did you do with yourself this afternoon, Granger?” her father asked. “Allie’s usually pretty busy. I hope you weren’t bored.”

  “Not a chance,” Zeph said. “It’s always a pleasure to watch an expert at work.”

  She tried to look cool and unaffected even though the compliment warmed her. “I took him on a call to Seldon’s. That pretty little bay mare he bought from Chaz got all cut up in some wire and the idiot didn’t call me until it might be too late. If Chaz ever sells him another horse, he can just look for another vet.”

  “Seldon.” Her father’s face twisted. “A disgrace to our town.”

  “That pretty well sums him up,” Zeph agreed. “Hard to imagine Mentrine doing business with him.”

  “Can’t you do something, Dad?” Winn asked. “Make him go away. Send him to jail or something. At least his brother has a life sentence. Couldn’t you do that to Wendover, too?” She shuddered.

  “Evidence, Winn, evidence,” her father reminded.

  Zeph raised an eyebrow at Allie. She nodded. Yes, I get it.

  “I know.” Winn flopped down on a footstool and propped her chin in her hands.

  “And,” Allie said to break the silence that smothered the room. “Zeph also met Mabel.”

  Winn giggled.

  “That was cruel, Allison,” her father said. After a pause, he added, “Did he pass?”

  “With flying colors, apparently,” Zeph cut in before Allie could answer. “I can tell top quality when I see it, and Allie’s it.” He tightened his arm, pulling her against him for a moment. “I also met the mayor,” he added.

  “Smooth change of subject,” Allie muttered, tamping down the sizzle.

  “What did you think of him?” her father asked.

  “Seems nice enough,” Zeph said.

  Allie caught the flicker in his eyes. “What?”

  Apparently her father had too, because he turned what she’d always called his laser look on Zeph. “Something off about our new mayor?”

  “What makes you think that? And what makes you think I’d know?”

  “Since you’re a detective...”

  “Even detectives take vacations, sir.”

  “Of course. But is this a vacation?”

  Zeph glanced at Allie and she put all her determination into a hard glare. Tell him.

  “I suppose everyone in town knows I’m a detective by now,” he said with resignation.

  “Of course. But that didn’t answer my question. If you’re not here to court my daughter, as Betty says, you’re working. On what?”

  Zeph dropped his head in his hands. “For God’s sake, don’t you people do anything except gossip?” He stood and faced Allie’s father.

  Allie studied them. Like two peas in a pod. Zeph stood a little taller, broader. Definitely harder, both in body and attitude, but the same rock bottom immovability.

  “Not much,” her dad said with a grin. “Want to tell me about it? Maybe I can help.”

  “No, I do not want to tell you about it. And I am here for Allie.”

  “Too,” she added. “I doubt I’d ever have seen him again if he hadn’t been forced to come here.”

  “Shows how much you know,” Zeph muttered. “I wasn’t forced to come
here. So, sir.” He turned to face her father. “If you thought I was here as a detective instead of to see Allie, why the invitation to stay here? You wanted to keep an eye on what I’m doing? Like maybe you’re afraid of what I’ll find out.”

  The expression that flashed across her dad’s face looked like guilt, and Allie shot a glance at Zeph to see if he’d noticed. He had, of course. His gaze sharpened like that of a cat sighting a tasty bird.

  “Or I might have wanted you here instead of at Allie’s,” her father said.

  “You might,” Zeph agreed. “After all, if you didn’t have to worry about Allie and me…and if I finish that sentence, my foot’ll be so far down my throat I’ll choke.”

  Her father’s grin disappeared. “You were about to say something about sleeping with my daughter, which I think we’d better ignore. And something about me offering hospitality so I could keep an eye on you. Is that right?”

  Zeph squared his shoulders. “Pretty much.”

  “I think you’d better—” The phone cut off his words. “That’s the business line. I’ll be right back.”

  “What was that all about?” Winn asked.

  Allie ignored her. “That was nice,” she told Zeph. “You want to explain it to her?”

  “Not really, no.” He socked one fist into the other hand.

  Allie’s father came back into the room, grim-faced. “I have to go out. I’ll be some time so go ahead with dinner.”

  “Wow,” Winn said into the pool of silence that filled the room. “Um, I think I’ll eat in the kitchen with Martha.” She bolted out the door.

  Allie turned to Zeph. “So,” she said. “You lied to Dad.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You certainly misled him.”

  And he didn’t feel good about it. Had to be done, though.

  “Now what?” Allie asked. “Dinner? Or are you going to run and leave me to explain?”

  “Neither. I’m a man of action, honey. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room, down the hall, and out to the car.

  ****

  “But Dad wants—” Allie protested when Zeph bundled her into the passenger seat of her truck and held out his hand for the keys. He shifted that dark, ominous gaze to her and wordlessly she handed them over.

  “Dad can’t always get what he wants,” Zeph said. “Remember that list we found in his desk? This is our chance to find out what that’s all about.” He rounded the truck and settled in the driver’s seat.

  When he’d pulled out onto the deserted street, she asked, “How are we going to do that?”

  “We’re going to search his office.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  Of course it was. Why did she think he did it sub rosa? Had there ever been such a screwed-up case? “True. But if you let me in...”

  She glared at him as though he were some kind of low life.

  “But why?”

  “For one thing, he looked guilty when you told him he was a suspect. For another, I am a detective. I detect. Sometimes that requires snooping. It’s my job. What do you think detectives do—walk up to suspects and ask them if they’ve been bad little boys?”

  “Of course not! But my father—”

  “All the companies on the list in your dad’s desk are under suspicion. I need to see if your father has any files on them.”

  “And if you don’t find anything?”

  “I’ll ask him to help me. Look, Allie, your father could be my biggest ally in this case. But I have to be sure about him first.”

  She gazed at him, a slit-eyed, suspicious stare, for a long moment, and relented. “Okay. But I don’t want Dad to know, ever, that I helped you with this.”

  Finally. “That’s my girl. I promise. Let’s go.” He parked near the alley behind Wentworth’s office. Allie led the way to the back door, unlocked it, and turned off the alarm system.

  “Thanks,” Zeph said.

  “Oh, no problem, she replied, her voice airy. “I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself. I’m sure you have some handy dandy little gadget that could bypass the system in a heartbeat, but…”

  Well, yeah. But not in a heartbeat. “Old-fashioned lock picks, honey. You’ve saved us some time.”

  She reached for the light switch and he shot out a hand to stop her. “We don’t want Monty wondering why the lights are on. Show me your father’s office.” He flicked on a tiny flashlight, careful to keep the beam away from the windows, even though all the shades were closed, and followed her down the hall.

  A rapid inspection showed a room as neat as Wentworth’s home. No surprises, only the bare surfaces and neatly stacked files he’d expected. He flicked through them, sighed, and tried the desk drawers. All unlocked, all contents completely innocuous. He turned to the file cabinets. A lot of file cabinets. Only one had a lock and he moved to that one. “I don’t suppose we can hope that B for Blanton will work.”

  “I can’t imagine why not. You know he’s the conservator for the business. Where else would he file things?”

  Blanton Builders took up almost half of a file drawer. “Stay over there by the door and let me know if you hear your father coming.”

  Allie looked mutinous but went to stand by the open door. “Do you really expect something incriminating in those files? A guilty person would hide the files, so if you don’t find anything, you still won’t be convinced. Maybe we should leave now and—”

  “Not yet. He might think a locked file is hidden enough.” Not if he was smart, but people made amazing mistakes. Zeph skimmed, aware of time galloping away like a damned horse and finding nothing worth a second look until he hit a folder labeled Discrepancies. The tingle that said he’d found something good made his fingers itch. Something in his expression must have given him away because Allie came to stand beside him and look over his shoulder as he pulled it out of the drawer and opened it.

  Empty.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “Well, I didn’t really expect…”

  “The list you found earlier?” Allie asked. “It must belong in there.”

  Zeph picked the tax folders out of the drawer and took them to the desk. “Yeah, it—” he started to say.

  “Well, isn’t this interesting.” Wentworth stood in the doorway, his voice hard with icy anger. “Perhaps you would care to explain yourselves?”

  Chapter 8

  Zeph rose slowly, glancing at Allie.

  She had gone bone-white. “Dad,” she whispered.

  “Yes. Dad. Who else would you expect in my office? Let’s see now. A detective. With my daughter. Trespassing.” His voice got louder with each word. “Just what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

  Allie choked when she tried to answer.

  Zeph ignored the flood of adrenaline. He’d been in tougher spots. Maybe later he could remember when. He stepped between Allie and her father. “I’m searching your office. Sir.”

  “Odd behavior for a guest,” Wentworth said in a voice so cold that Zeph expected to freeze on the spot. He didn’t get caught red-handed very often, and it had never been by someone whose good opinion he valued. His mind spun, searching for a way to get out of this. For a way to protect Allie.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. She shrank back against the wall, eyes expressionless and showing a lot of white. “Don’t faint,” he said, and eased her into a chair, pushing her head down.

  Wentworth glared at Zeph. His hands clenched and his fists shook. With rage, Zeph was sure. Wentworth’s mouth had compressed to a barely visible slash. The man had been known as a tough judge. If he’d ever shown this face in the courtroom, the crime rate in his jurisdiction would have dropped to zero.

  Zeph glanced at Allie again. She’d regained some color but still looked lost and scared and he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. Even though it might not be. He stepped back and took her hand.

  She jerked it away.

  “I am very disappo
inted in you, Allison,” her father told her. “I thought you were a sensible woman.” He turned to Zeph. “I assume you are in Stone’s Crossing on a case even though you denied it earlier, and that all this business about courting my daughter is some taradiddle you’ve spun for her so you could get into my files.”

  “Not exactly, sir,” Zeph said.

  “There’s a lot of confidential information here, and I don’t like you having your fingers in it.”

  “My company values discretion. I will ignore anything that doesn’t bear on the matter at hand,” Zeph assured him.

  “And what exactly is the matter at hand?”

  “Zeph, I think you have to tell him,” Allie said in a shaky voice. “I can’t stand having him think I—”

  “Hush, Allison. We’re a little past the days when I could ground you or restrict your television. But someone who pretends romantic interest in a woman, someone who abuses hospitality as this man has done…”

  High color flamed across Allie’s face. Zeph’s face burned, and he knew he had flushed with an equal embarrassment. That hadn’t happened to him since—forever. He forced himself to look straight at Wentworth. “My interest in Allie is not a pretense.”

  “We can discuss that later. Right now I’m even more interested in Why. You. Are. Searching. My. Office,” he bellowed.

  Zeph couldn’t answer. He couldn’t not answer. His stomach clenched, as though he were about to step off a high diving board, and he hurled himself into the truth. “I’m in town to investigate a fraud case. It’s always easier to find something if you know what you’re looking for. And I don’t usually get caught.”

  “What part of search warrant don’t you understand?”

  A new wave of heat swept up Zeph’s face. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep from dropping his gaze.

  “All right, Granger. I’ve had enough of this. Who are you working for?”

  “Client names are confidential. The company is A to Z Investigations.”

  “You’re a partner?”

  “Not yet.” And not likely to be after this.

  “I’m your client, you nitwit. What kind of company doesn’t give you that information? I’m beginning to think Frank called in the wrong investigator.” Wentworth stalked to his desk and picked up the phone. “I thought Frank’s detective couldn’t get anyone up here for another week,” he said as he dialed.