“Back in your seats!” Sofia sounded more like a prison warden than a cool aunt. And they were only ten minutes into the visit. She aimed for jaunty and fun. “We’re going to the detective agency!”
Violet folded her hands in her lap. She looked suspiciously demure. Sofia looked around the car and couldn’t see anything wrong. “Does the car always smell like this?”
“Smell like what?” asked Van.
Sofia ransacked the whole van and found a red neon stain under the driver’s seat. It was long dry, so at least it had happened before she’d come on duty. She sniffed the stain, hoping it wasn’t blood or something worse. Nope, Hawaiian Punch. She ought to get the car detailed for Emily. That would be a nice gesture. Emily didn’t have time to do stuff like that, what with the kids and her work in Ray’s plumbing business.
Sofia climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Onward ho!”
“Mom says we shouldn’t use that word,” Van piped up.
“What word?” said Sofia, confused.
“Hoe,” said Van.
“It means prostitute,” Violet added.
“That wasn’t the word I was using,” Sofia countered.
Violet eyed her from the back seat. “Sounded like it to me.”
“No, ‘onward ho’ means…” Sofia couldn’t actually think what it literally meant. “It means let’s go do this.”
“Like we’re going on an adventure,” Violet shouted.
“Precisely.” Sofia pulled out of the parking space and headed in to work.
“With pirate prostitutes,” Violet whispered to her brother.
“Cool,” said Van, apparently satisfied with this new definition.
Chapter 3
Sofia’s right eyelid twitched like a Mexican jumping bean. She couldn’t remember the drive ever taking so long before. Traffic was light, but it still felt like she was crawling along in a giant rubber boat. She missed her Roadster. She’d be there already if she’d been able to take it. And she’d never really appreciated how quiet her own car was.
“Van’s hand is on my side of the seat!” Violet said. “I can hit anything on my side.”
“Don’t hit your brother.” Sofia had turned into her own mother in exactly fifteen minutes. “Van, keep on your own side.”
“I dropped something,” he said.
“What did you drop?” He wasn’t supposed to have anything. She’d checked.
“Nothing,” he said.
Her phone rang before she could pursue that further.
“It’s me,” her sister said. “I wanted to check in that everything was fine.”
She sounded calmer than she had since Violet had turned two and morphed into an ultimate fighting machine. Had she and Ray pulled over for a quickie by the side of the road?
“Say hi to your mom, kids!” Sofia called.
“Hi, Mom,” they chorused.
“Sofia is taking us to the detective agency,” Violet yelled. “They have guns there.”
“Sofia?” Emily didn’t sound calm any more.
“We’re going in for a meeting. There won’t be any guns.” She’d have to text ahead to make sure. “You know Brendan is a stickler about gun safety. The weapons are kept in a safe. It’s always locked.”
Sofia’s head hurt. She hadn’t had her morning coffee yet, and breakfast had been a handful of cherries.
“We can come back,” Emily said. “It’s not a problem.”
“I got this.” Sofia decided then and there that she wasn’t going to mention the broken window. She’d have to get it fixed before they got back.
Emily rang off.
Sofia now had four things on her weekend list:
1.Have fun with the kids without anyone ending up in the emergency room.
2.Convince Brendan to give her the rest of the weekend off like he’d promised.
3.Get the window fixed before Emily got back and asked about it. She had enough on her plate as it was, and it had been an accident. Kind of.
4.Get the car detailed before she passed out from Hawaiian Punch fumes.
She pulled into the agency’s parking lot, where she saw Aidan’s canary-yellow Porsche and Brendan’s black Crown Vic. She parked the minivan in a corner, well away from them both. She didn’t want to hear any crap from Aidan about driving a minivan now.
It was Saturday and, other than their cars, the lot was empty. It didn’t look like Jenna Williams had arrived yet. That would give Sofia a chance to touch base with Aidan and find out why there was any doubt about Craig’s death.
She turned off the car and looked at the kids. “OK, guys, so this is my work. You need to be on your best behavior in there. No taking things apart.” She looked at Van, who nodded.
“And no attacking anyone.” She looked at Violet.
Violet seemed to mull over Sofia’s request as if it were one of life’s big questions. “Only in self-defense. Everyone needs to defend themselves if they’re attacked. And to defend others.”
“OK,” Sofia said. That would have to do.
She herded them out of the car and through the door into the office. She glanced around for hazards. The room was pretty bare—a ficus tree near the window that constantly shed yellow leaves on the floor, two desks with computers and messy piles of paper, two more or less ergonomic chairs, the gun safe, which she could see was locked, and a coffee machine in the kitchenette.
“Thanks for coming in!” Brendan came out of his office. “Hey, Violet and Van!”
“Hello, Mr. Maloney,” they said in unison, still on their best behavior. Sofia hoped it would last.
“Hi, kids,” said Aidan. He had come out of his dad’s office behind him. He was the spitting image of his Irish father—blue eyes, dark hair, and a rugged face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the big screen. He was, in short, too handsome for his own good.
“Hello, Mr. Maloney Junior,” the kids answered.
Aidan tightened his jaw, and Sofia bit back a grin. Aidan hadn’t known she called him that.
Brendan walked over to the gun safe and pulled on the lock to make sure it was closed, then gave each kid a hug. They beamed at him. Kids always loved Brendan.
He pulled out the printer tray and fished out some paper. “I’d like you guys to draw me a picture of Aidan, like a police sketch artist would. If you do a good job, I’ll buy your best drawing for a dollar. One from each of you.”
The kids snatched the paper and ran over to Sofia’s desk. They each took a pen from the cup on her desk and bent over their work.
Sofia made a beeline for the coffee machine. “You’re a genius, Brendan.”
“I had some practice.” He gestured toward Aidan. “Hard to believe, but he was a hellion.”
“It’s not that hard to believe.” Sofia took a long sip of coffee. She burned her tongue, but she didn’t care. Her headache eased, and she felt better. If she could get some food into her, that would be heaven.
“You have paint in your hair.” Aidan pointed to the top of her head. “Lemon yellow?”
“Buttercream.” She reached up and tried to scratch it out with a fingernail.
“When you do that with your hair, you look like a monkey picking out lice,” Aidan offered helpfully.
Brendan had a strict policy against swearing, and she was pretty sure flipping the bird fell into that category, so she settled for a glare.
“I’m sure Aidan filled you in on the details,” Brendan said. “I’d like you to be your usual compassionate self. Help Miss Williams feel more comfortable. Put her at her ease.”
“I’d like to go over the details again,” Sofia said. “To be thorough.”
“Why do you have a picture of a naked lady in your email?” asked Van. He’d moved his drawing over to Aidan’s desk, and pointed his pen at the screen.
Aidan hurried over and shut off his monitor. “Probably a sunbather.”
“My mom says those pictures objectify women,” Violet said. “Have you eve
r killed anyone?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Aidan said.
“The best defense is a good offense,” Violet yelled. Then she launched herself across the room and head-butted Aidan in the groin. He folded up like a ladder and pitched onto the floor.
Van crossed his legs. “That’s the Nutcracker right there.”
Brendan laughed so hard Sofia thought he might have a heart attack. She went over and held a hand down for Aidan. He took it and let her pull him to his feet before collapsing into his chair. He was ashen and muttering all kinds of words that broke the anti-profanity rule.
“Are you OK, Mr. Maloney Junior?” Violet asked.
“I’m. Fine,” Aidan said, through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, but you said you were thinking about killing someone, so I had to take action.” Violet sounded earnest.
“We use our words.” Sofia winced because, again, she sounded like her mother. “We don’t hit people unless we have to, and we usually don’t have to.”
“You definitely didn’t have to,” said Aidan. “I was just kidding.”
Brendan wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “If you can’t block a kindergartener, son, your nuts deserve to be cracked.”
“I’m in second grade,” Violet said.
Aidan took a couple of deep breaths. Sofia actually felt sorry for him.
“Excuse me?” A thin blond woman stood in the doorway, hand raised as if to knock. She looked as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. Her dark circles had dark circles. She was dressed in People for Peace jeans, with a long-sleeved black T-shirt and carried an oversized black leather bag. “I’m looking for Maloney Investigations.”
“Miss Williams!” Brendan crossed the room and took her hand in a hearty shake. “I’m Brendan Maloney. This is Sofia Salgado, and my son, Aidan. Plus Sofia’s niece and nephew, Violet and Van. As you probably saw, we use Violet as our training officer.”
Jenna Williams smiled at Violet, who stood next to Aidan’s desk in a karate pose, with a cherubic smile. “She seems pretty experienced.”
“I took karate lessons for two months.” Violet brushed her curly blond hair back. “So I am very experienced.”
Brendan took Jenna’s elbow and ushered her into his office. “Sofia, you’re with me. Aidan, you’re in charge of the training officers.”
Aidan looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, and Sofia had to admit she kinda liked it.
“Don’t give them any sugar.” She gave Aidan a meaningful look.
He grinned at her. “Why would I do a thing like that?”
She regretted saying it. He liked to do things to drive her crazy, and here she was giving him ammunition.
“Be good,” she told the kids. “Mr. Maloney Junior needs to recover from that Nutcracker.”
READ THE REST OF “B” IS FOR BAD GIRLS
More Malibu Mystery Books
“C” IS FOR COOCHY COO
Former child star Sofia Salgado is finding her feet as a trainee investigator at Malibu detective agency, Maloney Investigations, when a new case throws her, and everyone else at the agency, for a loop.
Maloney Investigations are drafted in to help thirteen-year-old Daniel find his birth father. There’s only one snag. According to Daniel’s mom, former Los Angeles party girl, Candy, there’s more than one candidate. A lot more!
“D” IS FOR DRUNK
Roll up your pant legs and bare your feet, there are barrels of grapes to crush in this hilarious fourth installment of the Malibu mystery series.
Maloney Investigation's new client? An eccentric vineyard owner convinced his even more eccentric neighbor is siphoning off his precious water.
But of course it's not as simple as that. Or as dignified.
“E” IS FOR EXPOSED
Sofia Salgado's latest case at Maloney Investigations has some pretty tempting ingredients: blackmail, male strippers, and whipped cream.
When a friend of Sofia's mom finds herself the victim of blackmail, stuffy Aidan has to go undercover as an exotic dancer, much to Sofia’s delight.
Can Aidan make it in the cut-throat world of male stripping? Can Sofia stop her mom from getting too involved? Does whipped cream have more or fewer calories when it's licked from a man's naked torso?
“F” IS FOR FRED (Coming in 2018)
“G” IS FOR GROOVY (Coming in 2018)
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A is for Actress (Malibu Mystery Book 1) Page 25
