by anna snow
The more I thought about what I was about to do, the more apparent it was that what I was considering was a terrible idea, but I was desperate, and you know the old saying: Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I thought this situation definitely counted as desperate times.
The microwave beeped. I removed the container of food and set it on the kitchen table to cool then grabbed my phone off the cabinet where I'd set it.
"Tyler is not going to like this," I said.
Mickey stopped eating and peered up at me with a duh expression in his eyes then resumed eating his dinner.
I shook my head then dialed the number before I could talk myself out of it.
The phone rang, and I waited for him to answer.
He picked up on the third ring.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite private detective. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night call, Ms. Jackson?" The deep whiskey-smooth sound of Silas Thorne's voice came over the line.
Silas and I had met on the last big case I'd worked when I'd stumbled across a secret male brothel or as I'd dubbed it, a stud farm, during my first murder investigation. He just so happened to be the main stud.
Yes. Silas was a gigolo. Of course, he and his fellow gigolos claimed their business was simply a male escort service in order to appear on the up-and-up with the law. Much to my surprise their little play on words actually worked.
Needless to say, my detective boyfriend wasn't Silas's biggest fan, especially after he'd found out Silas and I had locked lips on two separate occasions. Before Tyler and I had become a couple, of course.
But since we'd first met, despite Tyler's jealousy, which he was getting much better at controlling, Silas and I had become good friends, and he'd even helped me bust a couple of cheating wives that I couldn't seem to pin down in the past few months, so it wasn't too farfetched that I'd ask for his help. Asking him to help just wasn't ideal. In the past month, Silas had stepped out of the male escort business and opened the art gallery he'd been working toward owning for so long.
"Silas, I'm just going to cut to the chase," I said in a rush.
"I'd expect nothing less from you, Barb."
I swore I could hear the grin in his voice. Silas was the laid-back type. Nothing ever seemed to faze him. He wore a permanent sincere smile, oozed charm, and had a playful, mischievous nature that charmed the pants off everyone he met. Not to mention he was gorgeous with honey blond hair, blue eyes, and a body that would put Adonis to shame. Still, in my eyes, he had nothing on my tall, dark, muscular detective.
Plus, in the time I'd gotten to know Silas, I'd heard him fart and belch and seen him scratch his man bits, which put a damper on his hotness. Now he was more like an annoying brother.
"Kelly's being framed for murder, and I need your help to find out who's trying to pin this mess on her and why before she's charged with murder and stuck in a cell somewhere with a chick named Big Bertha."
"Wow. When you call in a favor, you really call in a favor don't you, darlin'?" he laughed.
"Kelly's not a murderer. You know that," I continued. "I need an extra set of eyes and ears on this one, and you know how Mandy is. She needs to be in the office. We can't run the risk of missing anything. Kelly's life depends on it," I said as I removed the lid from my food and stirred around some spicy chicken and shrimp with a fork.
"How do you think your boyfriend is going to feel about us spending so much time together? He doesn't even like when we get coffee. What makes you think he's going to be on board with us working together again? He does tend to get a little jealous," he teased.
"Tyler will understand," I answered. "He knows we're just friends, and he knows how I feel about him."
"Are you sure about that?" Silas asked.
I bit my lip. Well, I assumed he did anyway. We hadn't said that huge three-word phrase people liked to toss out willy-nilly to each other like a Frisbee. We were only about three months into our relationship, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure how soon was too soon to say such a thing to someone.
Did I love Tyler? I was pretty sure that I did, but moving fast in a relationship had burned me nearly beyond recognition in the past, and that was a road I didn't wish to go down again. But I didn't have time to dwell on Tyler's and my feelings for one another or whether or not he knew how I felt about him. I had a killer to catch and a former gigolo to wrangle in.
"So are you in or out?" I pressed. "I need to get started as soon as possible. Every minute we spend dillydallying is another minute closer to Kelly going away for life—or worse." I shoved another bite of spicy chicken and shrimp into my mouth and chewed while I waited for his answer.
"You know I'll help you," Silas said.
"Things could get dangerous," I warned him.
"You can stop selling it now. I said I'm in." He laughed. "I'll meet you at your office first thing in the morning."
"Thanks," I said. "I owe you one."
"Just one?" he asked.
"Don't push it."
I disconnected the call and tossed the phone down on the table before he could come up with something outrageous for me to do to fulfill my IOU.
CHAPTER THREE
After I scarfed down what was left of last night's Chinese dinner, I shoved the empty container in the trash can then took a hot shower and hit the sack. But even as exhausted as I was, sleep didn't come quickly. I stayed awake over half the night, dwelling on what would happen to my friend if I failed to find the person or persons setting her up.
At one point in the night, Mickey had gotten so tired of my tossing and turning that he'd gone to sleep in the bed Kelly had given him for Christmas, something he never did, so I knew I was being obnoxious.
I looked at the clock on the nightstand by the bed. The red numbers 5:30 a.m. glared back at me. I decided enough was enough and crawled out of bed and into another steaming hot shower. Getting an early start on the day wasn't a bad idea. Kelly's clock was ticking, and the longer I sat around, the closer the cops came to pressing official charges.
I hurried through my shower, washed my body and hair, rinsed, stepped out, and grabbed a towel from the wicker basket rack hanging on the wall. I had just dried off and slid on a light pink T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans when someone knocked at my door.
A quick look at the clock told me that I'd been in the bathroom for less than thirty minutes. The only people who had ever risked knocking on my door at such an early hour were Mona, Mandy, and Kelly. Kelly was in jail, Mona was more than likely already at work in the captain's office at the police station, and I was certain Mandy was already at the office hard at work, too. That's just the type of person she was.
I grabbed my gun off the nightstand by the bed, slid it into my ankle holster, and then tugged my jeans down to conceal it. The knock sounded again, and I hurried through the house to the front door. The curtains hanging on either side of the door were too thick to see through, so I slid one back an inch and peeked out onto the porch.
"Come on, Barb. I know you're in there. I see those baby blue eyes peeking out at me. Now, open the door, and let me in so the old man across the street will stop staring at me. Those bushy white eyebrows of his are starting to give me the willies."
I rolled my eyes so far back in my head I almost saw my brain, disarmed the house alarm, and opened the door.
Silas walked in and kicked the door closed behind him with his foot. He was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and his ever-present smile.
"What are you doing here so early?" I asked, resisting the urge to yawn at the reminder of how early it was for me.
Silas handed me a cup of coffee, kneeled down, and scratched Mickey on the head then stood and made his way through the living room to the kitchen.
I looked down at the cup he'd handed me.
Iced caramel macchiato. My favorite.
"Weren't we supposed to meet at the office?" I asked. A little of the frustration at his sudden early app
earance slipped away as I took my first sip of coffee.
"We were," he agreed easily. "But I had a short 5:00 a.m. workout at the gym this morning with Fredericka. I figured you'd be up and at 'em early, so when I finished up, I showered, changed, and went ahead and came here." He set a paper bag on the kitchen table, made his way to the cabinets, and pulled out two plates. "Are you hungry? I brought breakfast burritos with restaurant-style salsa, some extra pico de gallo for you, and some extra bacon and shredded cheese."
There were times when I wondered why I put up with Silas, and then he did something heroic like bringing me bacon and coffee, and I immediately remembered why I kept him around.
He'd already laid out our breakfast and was just about to dig into his burrito when I finally took my seat across from him at the table.
The smell of salsa, bacon, eggs, and a warm flour tortilla wafted up to greet me, and my stomach growled.
Silas looked up at me and raised his eyebrows. "How long has it been since you last ate?"
"Last night when I was on the phone with you," I answered while I slathered my burrito with pico de gallo and cheese. "But I'm starved." I'd been too wrapped up in my own thoughts to realize just how hungry I was.
Silas laughed. "You're always hungry."
It was my turn to laugh. He wasn't wrong. I loved to eat, and despite yoga and early morning runs at the park, I had the ten extra pounds to prove it.
I shrugged.
"So, you want to fill me in on what you know so far?" Silas inquired before taking a long drink of his coffee.
"There's not much I can tell you that won't make Kelly look guilty," I answered honestly then told him everything I knew about the case so far, including the fact that we'd hired Kelly the best attorney in town.
He looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded slowly as he chewed. "So what I'm gathering is that someone drugged Kelly then planted the blood on her hands and clothing to frame her for Mark's murder. But we don't have a clue as to who or why. Does that about cover it?"
"That about covers it," I agreed with a sigh. "But that's not how the district attorney is going to see it. It's obvious to us that Kelly has been framed because we know her, but not everyone knows Kelly like we do. Tyler says it could take days or even weeks for the blood and toxicology test results to come back. But for now, all we can do is investigate until we've looked into every possible avenue to prove her innocence." I took a bite of my burrito, chewed, and swallowed. "My main objective is to prove her innocent or at least provide enough reasonable doubt that they'll be forced to look at someone else for the crime."
"I've heard of Sherman Lopez," Silas said. "He's gotten some slimy guys out of some pretty serious convictions. Maybe he'll be able to get Kelly out of that holding cell and back home before formal charges are pressed."
"Let's hope." I nodded. "I'd rather have her home while we investigate this than at that musty jail. Not only will she be more comfortable, but we'll be able to ask any questions of her that we need to."
"So what are we doing today?" he asked as he popped the last remnants of his breakfast into his mouth then tossed his wrapper across the room and into the trash can.
"I think we need to question Mark's band and manager. They're the ones who spent the most time with him. I'm thinking they might be able to point us in the direction of another suspect besides Kelly."
"Or one of them is the killer," Silas spoke my next thought.
"Exactly." I nodded and finished off my breakfast. "It's certainly possible," I said and took a sip of my drink. "Kelly said none of the band members really cared for Mark, so I don't think we'll have any trouble getting information out of them."
"If we can even get close to them."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Silas laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Mark's band is pretty popular nowadays."
"Yeah. So?"
"So, their lead singer was just offed." He looked pointedly at me. "Don't you think they'll have extra security buzzing around them to ensure their safety?"
"To be honest, I hadn't thought about that," I admitted. But now that Silas mentioned it, I wondered if extra security was the case, how we'd get past it. I'd think of something. I always did.
"We'll figure it out," I assured him as I stood and tossed my trash in the trash can. "Mandy already has the phone numbers and addresses for the remaining band members waiting for us at the office." I hadn't talked to Mandy yet but had no doubt she'd found the information before her head even hit the pillow when she went to bed last night. "So we'll swing by the office, pick up what she has for us so far, and go from there."
Silas shrugged. "You're the boss." He stood and moved into the living room while I refilled Mickey's food and water dishes. Once Mickey was satisfied that his meal was correctly laid out, I patted his head and then made my way to my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of socks and tennis shoes, tossed my wavy blonde hair up into a loose ponytail, and hurried back out into the living room. Silas leaned against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed across his muscular chest, waiting for me to join him.
Most women went completely gaga over Silas's movie star good looks. Not me. I'd known Silas long enough to experience his scratching, burping, and general single male behavior for me to see him for the regular guy he was behind the charming GQ exterior.
"Are you ready?" He pushed away from the sofa to stand fully.
"Yeah. Just let me grab my purse."
"Already got it." He held out the medium-sized black leather purse to me.
"Thanks." I took it, set the alarm, and preceded Silas out onto the porch.
We hurried across the lawn to my car, hopped inside, and then backed out of the driveway, steering in the direction of the office. With any luck traffic would be thin, and Mandy would have some good news waiting for us when we arrived.
* * *
Fifteen minutes and a quick stop at my favorite coffee shop later (Yes. I needed a refill already. Don't judge me.), we pulled up in front of Jackson Investigations and parked across the street by the curb.
I grabbed my purse, hopped out of the car, fed the meter, crossed the street, and hurried toward the door. Silas followed along right behind me.
We stepped inside and spotted Mandy, who was already behind her desk, typing away on her keyboard with the phone held between her ear and shoulder.
She looked up at me and held up one finger.
"She's just as much of a workaholic as you are." Silas stopped beside me and teased then stepped forward and set the coffee we'd picked up for Mandy on her desk. She glanced up at him and smiled.
"You have no idea." I shook my head.
Mandy ended the call. "That was Sherman Lopez," she began then lifted a paper from her desk. "He said he's about to meet with Kelly. He sounded confident that he can get her released today before the forty-eight-hour hold is up."
"Let's hope he's right," Silas said. "They shouldn't be able to hold her long without knowing for certain that the blood on her hands is in fact Mark's."
"That's what Lopez said. He also said there's no sense in them holding her the entire time, knowing the test results most likely won't be back anytime soon." Mandy continued to fill us in on what Lopez had told her. "We should hear back from him in about an hour, maybe just a little more. In the meantime—" She held out the paper in her hand to me. "—here is the list of the other members of Mark's band, their phone numbers, and their home addresses you asked for. I made some calls and did a little digging around and found out that their manager is still out of the country but should be back within the next couple of days." She took a quick sip of her coffee. "Thanks for this by the way." She held up the steaming cup.
"Anytime." Silas smiled easily. "Since the manager is still out of the country that rules her out as the killer. That's something at least." Silas tried to shine a little light on the situation.
"Agreed," I said. "We can check her off the list. Excellent work."
I took the paper she offered and scanned the five names on the list. "They all live locally, so that will make things a little bit easier."
"Assuming they're all in town," Silas said from beside me. "These guys are home on a short break from a world tour. There's no telling where they are right now." Silas was right, but I wasn't about to tell him that. His head was big enough without any help from me. Hopefully, the band was taking it easy with their families while home from the road and lying low since the murder.
"Let me know when you hear back from Lopez about Kelly," I said to Mandy as I folded the sheet of paper and slid it into my purse. "Silas and I are going to check out as many of these guys today as we can. Hopefully, we'll get some much-needed answers."
I was about to turn away from Mandy's desk and leave the office when a noise out on the sidewalk caught my attention.
"What's going on out there?" Mandy asked and rose from her seat as the noise grew louder.
"I don't know," I admitted. "It sounds like people chanting."
The three of us moved to the window and looked out through the mini blinds. I immediately regretted the action.
A crowd was starting to form on the sidewalk outside the front window of the office.
At least a dozen people, mostly women, were staring into the office, and more were starting to crowd behind them. None of them looked the least bit happy, and every one of them was chanting, "Justice for Mark! Justice for Mark!"
"I know what's going on," Silas groaned and held up his phone. "Mark's rabid fans."
I looked at the screen and wanted to scream. A picture of Kelly and Mark smiling together stared back at me under the caption:
Kelly Sears, girlfriend of rock and roll front man Mark Reynolds, officially a suspect in his murder. More information to come.
"Oh no," Mandy murmured and covered her mouth with one hand. "They must have looked Kelly up and found out where she works."
