by Sean Black
“Totally,” said Candice. “When a guy looks at you like that it means just one thing.”
That was pretty encouraging news. And, if anyone would know, it was Candice. She was as close to an expert in these matters as anyone could find.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Candice asked.
Sofia took a deep breath. Candice had already shared more than anyone should with strangers about her love life. Even though she hadn’t seemed at all embarrassed, surely that point had to come.
“Well,” said Sofia, figuring she’d ease into it by bringing Candice up to speed on what they were doing, “we’ve had some good results tracking the men you gave us. In fact, Aidan’s out right now meeting with the first few we have definite addresses for.”
She decided not to mention the conversation about Aidan packing his gun and a cooler with ice.
“That’s great,” said Candice. “Daniel and I really appreciate everything you’re doing for us. Especially when we don’t have the money to pay for your services, and you could be doing something that pays the bills.”
“We’re happy to help. Daniel’s a great kid,” Sofia lied. Daniel was a tweeny sex pest, but that was a conversation for another time. First they needed to find the kid a matching kidney. Then they could tackle his behavior. Maybe they had him on some weird drug that had turbo-charged his puberty – not that puberty required much turbo-charging for most boys from what Sofia recalled – or perhaps spending all his time in hospital and around grown-ups, rather than with kids his own age, was making him act out. Or maybe he was just growing up to be a raging asshat, and these were the first signs. There was nothing that said a kid who was sick and needed a kidney transplant had to be angelic, or even nice.
Candice seemed to be studying her. “That wasn’t why you came over, was it? To tell me that Aidan’s tracked down some of the men I slept with before Daniel was born?”
“No, it wasn’t,” said Sofia. “I came to ask if there was anyone else you might have remembered from back in the day.”
Candice blew a stray strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. “Is that all? I thought it was something serious. Actually, I did think of someone just last night. I was going to call you today and let you know.”
Sofia got out her cell phone and opened the notepad application so she could jot down the name. “Great. What was the guy’s name?”
Suddenly Candice came over all coy. “It wasn’t a someone as such.”
Sofia looked up from her phone. Not a someone? She shuddered to think what that might mean. Should she point out to Candice that sex with animal, mineral or vegetable didn’t count in this context? Or if Candice had hooked up with a woman. All they were concerned with was a possible father, not a sexual partner.
“What do you mean exactly?” said Sofia, a hint of wariness creeping into her voice in spite of her efforts to prevent it.
Candice cupped her hand to her mouth. Presumably this was to stop anyone at a nearby table lip-reading what she was about to say. It seemed she had finally reached a state approaching embarrassment.
“You ever hear of the Bakersfield Broncos?” Candice whispered.
Sofia’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t, but she was already starting to suspect where this might be going. “The Bakersfield Broncos? Can’t say that I have.”
“They were a minor-league baseball team. Some car dealer in Bakersfield brought them in. They were mostly Cuban guys from Miami. Anyway, I was out in Bakersfield doing some promotional work for this guy and, well, I ended up back at the hotel with them. We’d all had a lot to drink, and they were really cute, and . . .”
Candice was actually blushing. So that was what it took for her to be embarrassed by her past escapades. Sleeping with a baseball team.
“The whole team?” Sofia whispered.
“Oh, no. That would have been gross. I’m not a complete slut.”
Sofia’s eyebrows shot so far up they were in danger of leaving her face entirely and disappearing into her hairline, possibly never to reappear. “So?”
“No,” said Candice. “There was the pitcher, and the relief pitcher, the center fielder. Oh, and the third baseman.”
Sofia tapped frantically at her cell-phone screen. She guessed that someone, somewhere, no doubt living in their mom’s basement, would have collected a whole bunch of information about the Bakersfield Broncos and who played those positions during that season. Hopefully they hadn’t gone back to Cuba. “And did all they hit a home run? Or did some only get to second base?” she asked. Although it may have come off jokey it was the most delicate way she could think of asking the question.
“Sorry. That night is kind of a blur. Like I said, we’d all had a lot to drink.”
Aidan’s joke about the mating call of a blonde had ended up being more accurate than either of them could have imagined. So had another joke Sofia had heard before about the mating call of a blonde: “I’m so drunk!”
CHAPTER 20
Sofia stepped into an empty side room in the hospital to call Aidan. His response was predictable. Laughter. Followed by a coughing fit. Then more laughter.
When he had regained the ability to speak, which took a full five minutes, he said, “Holy smoke. Imagine finding out your father was the relief pitcher in a gangbang. Not even the pitcher. The relief.”
“Could be worse,” said Sofia.
“How? How could it be worse?”
“Could have been the short stop. I found a team picture on Google. The pitchers were both pretty cute. The short stop looked like Shrek after he’d climbed out of a swamp bath. Anyway, whatever the circumstances, we need to try to take this seriously.”
“Okay, so when you were Googling did you find any names?”
“Yeah. I’ll email them to you now.”
“Cool. Thanks. I’ll start running checks when I get back to the office. But that won’t be until later.”
“How are the interviews going?” Sofia asked.
“First guy, Wes Adams, wasn’t home and the place looked deserted. Just heading over to see the second now. Nate Kaufmann. In fact, he’s not too far from where you are now.”
“I don’t have anything left to do here, unless Candice calls me back because she’s suddenly remembered sleeping with another sports team, so I could head over to the address and join you.”
Sofia was expecting Aidan to make some excuse as to why that wasn’t a good idea. Even though he was supposed to be training her in the ways of private investigation, he could be pretty territorial about certain tasks.
“Sure, why not? If I can’t focus his mind, maybe you can flutter your eyelashes at him or something, throw him off balance while I move in for the kill.”
“Yeah, because that’s all I can offer. The fact I’m a woman and can flash my legs.”
“I didn’t say flash your legs. I said flutter your eyelashes.”
“Maybe I should wear a low-cut top too. Let him get an eyeful of the girls.”
“Now you’re thinking like a PI.”
Unbelievable. Just when Aidan seemed to be a normal human being he reverted to being a disgusting sexist pig. “So what you’re telling me is that the only thing I have to offer is that a guy might want to sleep with me?”
“Pretty much.” Before she could protest, he gave her Nate Kaufmann’s address in Bel Air, told her to meet him out front of the place in twenty, and ended the call before she could get any more details.
Steaming, Sofia ducked out into the hall and walked back to Daniel’s room. A cute nurse with jet-black hair was helping Candice change the sheets.
Daniel saw Sofia walk in and arched his eyebrows. His embarrassment seemed to have gone and he was back to his usual obnoxious self. “Hey, gorgeous,” he whispered to Sofia. “I’m getting a sponge bath soon.” Then he winked.
“Daniel!” said Candice. “That’s inappropriate.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sofia. “Sorry. I don’t know where he gets it from.”
Sofia had a fair idea. “Thanks for your help. I have to go meet Aidan now, but if you need anything just call one of us.”
Before Daniel could make another smutty comment, Sofia got out of there. She was almost to the elevator when she heard someone calling her name and turned to see Dr. Mark bounding down the corridor toward her, his white coat billowing. He looked like some insanely hot superhero. She wondered what his superpower would be. The ability to give a woman an orgasm just by looking at her? Had to be something along those lines.
“Ms. Salgado,” he called.
“Please, call me Sofia.” Hell, he could call her whatever he wanted, but Sofia was a good start, and definitely a step up from Ms. Salgado.
“Sorry, I know you’re probably in a rush, but could I speak with you for a moment?”
“Sure.” She wanted to suggest he could speak with her over dinner or cocktails, but that might have seemed a little unprofessional.
Dr. Mark reached out, took her sleeve and guided her away from the elevator. His arms were amazing. He had biceps he could have used to crack walnuts. When he wasn’t saving the lives of sick children, he obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. She had already checked his hands for a ring and they were clear.
“I haven’t spoken to Daniel or his mom yet, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to them.”
“Of course,” said Sofia, so transfixed by Dr. Mark’s blue eyes that she was having to focus hard on what he was actually saying.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. Sofia had to lean in to hear him, which was fine with her. “The things is, finding a kidney donor for Daniel may be a little more time-critical than we first thought.”
That broke the spell. It didn’t matter how hot Dr. Mark was. He’d just told her they had to find Daniel a kidney donor sooner rather than later.
Sofia stopped staring into his eyes and straightened. “How time critical?” she asked.
Dr. Mark bit his luscious bottom lip. “We don’t know for sure, but it could be months rather than years, let’s put it like that.”
“Or he’ll die?”
“His condition will deteriorate, and dialysis may not be as effective in managing it. So, yes, without a more dramatic intervention, Daniel will die. Our best chance now is to find a donor. The sooner the better.”
CHAPTER 21
“How did you say this guy made his money?” Sofia was staring up at a huge mansion overlooking the lush fairways of the Bel Air Country Club, which might have been designed by Walt Disney.
Sofia’s Tesla was parked on the mansion’s circular driveway, just behind Aidan’s canary-yellow Porsche. The other spaces were taken up with a dazzling array of mostly Italian sports cars.
“Electronic billboards,” said Aidan. “Kaufmann got into them before anyone even knew they were going to be a thing.”
Who knew there was so much money in electronic billboards? Then again, Sofia was always surprised by how people assembled vast fortunes from selling or inventing things or offering services to which most people probably never gave a second thought. That was one of the great things about America. You needed just one good idea, as long as you had it before everyone else did. And nobody stole it.
They walked up to the front door and Aidan rang the bell. A camera mounted above the door swiveled to check them out.
“I thought you were gonna slut it up,” Aidan said, side-glancing at Sofia.
“No, that was your idea. I never agreed to it.”
“Hey, we have a dying kid on our hands here. The least you could do is flash a little cleavage.”
“You’re disgusting. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“What’s disgusting about wanting to save a little boy’s life?”
“You’re using it to try to force me to make a pass at this guy so he’ll cooperate. It’s emotional blackmail, not to mention gross.”
Aidan side-glanced at her again as they heard someone walking toward the door to answer it. “If I had tatas like yours, and I thought putting them on display would help us, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s called taking one for the team.”
“Tatas like mine?”
“Yeah. Firm. Perky,” said Aidan, making a cupping motion in front of his pecs to illustrate his point.
“I assume you think your hand gesture is a compliment.”
The door opened. Hurriedly, Aidan dropped his hands to his sides.
A geeky white guy wearing shorts and a T-shirt peered at them through a pair of thin-framed black glasses. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Kaufmann?” Sofia asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Sofia Salgado and this is Aidan Maloney. We’re from Maloney Investigations in Malibu. We’d like to speak with you for a moment, if we may.”
Nate Kaufmann looked startled. “What about?”
“It’s a rather private matter, not to mention personal,” said Aidan. “If we could come in?”
“You can come in after you’ve told me what this is about,” said Nate, holding his ground.
“Nate, honey, who are you speaking to?” A woman’s voice echoed through the marble foyer.
Sofia saw her chance. The woman was probably Mrs. Kaufmann: they might either be granted an audience or get the door slammed in their faces. But at least they’d know if he was going to talk to them or not. “Does the name Candice Collins ring any bells? Because she remembers you.”
The color drained from Nate Kaufmann’s face. He stepped outside and closed the front door. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. “Candy Collins? What about her?”
“She has a thirteen-year-old son, Daniel,” Aidan told him. “You would have known Candy around fourteen years ago, give or take a few months. Is that correct?”
From the lines etched onto Nate’s forehead he had already started doing the math for himself.
“You don’t have to answer that,” said Sofia. She had decided to play good cop, since Aidan wasn’t leaving her much room.
Nate looked relieved. It lasted only a second.
“We know you did,” pressed Aidan. “And we know you were intimate.”
“Hey,” Nate whispered. “I always used protection. Always.”
“Condoms break sometimes,” said Sofia. “But we have some good news too. It’s not all bad.”
“What could possibly be good about this?” Nate asked.
“Well,” said Aidan, “you’re not the only potential father of Candy’s son. In fact, chances are, if what you said is correct, it’s not you. But we need to make sure so we can eliminate you from our inquiries.”
“Isn’t my word good enough?” Nate asked, a drowning man reaching for a piece of wood to cling to.
“Not really, no,” said Sofia. “It’s not that we don’t believe you because we totally do.” She turned to Aidan. “Don’t we?”
“Absolutely,” said Aidan, slipping out of the good-cop-bad-cop groove. “If a man says he rubbers up then I believe him.”
“But the thing is,” said Sofia, “the only way to settle this definitively is to get a DNA sample from you. It’ll only take a few seconds.”
“And what if I don’t agree to that?” said Nate.
Aidan and Sofia traded a what-a-naïve-question glance. “Then she goes to court, asks a judge for it. The whole thing’s out in public. No one wants that,” said Aidan.
Nate glanced nervously at the front door. “I really can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
“That’s too bad,” said Sofia.
“We understand,” said Aidan. “Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
Nate practically flattened himself against the door to block Aidan’s passage. “No, you may not.”
The front door opened anyway, and Nate almost fell backward. A woman stood there. She was a good ten years younger than Nate. Blonde. With what Aidan would call tatas that were way perkier than Sofia’s, not to mention bigger. Her hair and make-up were immaculate. She looked like a Victoria’s Secret model. In fact,
Sofia was pretty sure she was a Victoria’s Secret model. She was also sure Nate had landed a woman like her simply because of his electronic billboard fortune, the house in Bel Air and the Italian sports car.
“Nate, honey, what’s going on?” she asked, in a sing-song baby voice that would have put Marilyn Monroe to shame.
“Uh . . . uh . . .” said Nate. He looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Sofia decided that the best defense was a good offense. “Mrs. Kaufmann?”
“Yes,” said Victoria’s Secret, staring at Sofia with undisguised hostility. Sofia guessed from the way she was looking at her that the first pre-nup clause had yet to kick in. Meaning that Victoria’s Secret here wasn’t yet entitled to any real money if things went south all of a sudden.
Sofia stepped past Nate. “I’m Sofia Salgado. This is my partner, Aidan Maloney. We’re from a firm of private investigators based in Malibu.”
Now Aidan was giving Sofia a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, and it seemed like Nate’s eyes were about to pop out of his head.
“We’re assisting your husband in a matter related to his business. He probably didn’t want you to worry you with the details.”
Mrs. Kaufmann crossed her arms across her perfectly implanted chest. “I guess he didn’t. But if we have people turning up on our doorstep then perhaps he should.” This last comment was accompanied by a death stare toward Nate.
“You see, the thing is . . .” Nate ground to a halt.
One of the rules in the improv game Sofia used to play in acting class was that anyone who hesitated or paused for more than three seconds lost their turn. Right now it seemed like a good time to intervene.
“Your husband’s been having problems with a competitor. At least, we think that’s who’s responsible. That’s why we were called in.”
Mrs. Kaufmann’s toe tapped. She seemed to be deciding whether or not to believe what Sofia was telling her. “That’s funny. Nathaniel’s never mentioned any of this to me.” She said ‘Nathaniel’ the way his mom probably would.
