Sleuthing for a Living (Mackenzie & Mackenzie PI Mysteries Book 1)

by Jennifer L. Hart

  Too late I realized he was going to walk straight past me. I'm not sure where the impulse came from, but I slithered down in the seat so he wouldn't see me. I waited, counting to twenty in my head and feeling like a jackass. Helga had tinted windows, and it was night. Why was I hiding from him? Because I was investigating the Granger case when he'd made it clear I shouldn't? Or because of the way he'd smoldered at me in the stairwell and then had been out with another woman?

  Either way, cowering in the dark seemed like the way to go.

  A knock sounded on the window, and I jumped, and then peeked up.

  He stood there, a massive dark shape, foreboding in the streetlight.

  Sighing, I straightened up and then rolled down the window. "How's it going?"

  "Were you hiding from me, Red?" He tilted his head, his long dark hair falling over his shoulder like a river of night.

  "No," I fibbed, hoping the low lighting would hide the flush on my cheeks. "I was looking for my earring."

  "You aren't wearing earrings," he pointed out.

  "Because I lost one." Was I a stellar liar or what?

  Those lips twitched. "But you're heading out."

  "Just to the store. My mother stopped by, and we're out of people food. I hear Snickers is all set, thanks to you."

  "She's a sweetheart," he murmured. "I miss having someone waiting for me to get home."

  "You want her back?" The words popped out automatically. I hoped he'd say no, as Mac seemed attached to the mutt.

  He shook his head. "Nah, I'm not home enough to spend time with her."

  "Because of your job?" I probed, wondering at the identity of the dark sedan driver. Nona had said he was something of a serial dater.

  He wore that pre-smile, almost-amused look again. "If you want to know who dropped me off, you can just ask."

  "Not my business," I choked out. The man read me like a sports column, with very little effort on his part. It was unnerving, especially because I knew diddly-freaking-squat about him.

  The light caught in his dark eyes, reflecting back at me hypnotically. "Are you willing to make it your business?"

  "Yes. No. I mean, that is…" I stumbled, my usual confidence heading for parts unknown. I took a deep breath and tried again. "I really don't think it's a good idea. What with us being neighbors, and then there's Mac and my mother, and I can't really afford a distraction right now."

  "I understand." He held up a hand and my lips clamped together as if superglued, the heinous stream of babble locked safely in.

  "For the record, that was my youngest sister, Kate. She's got some news and wanted my advice on how best to break it to our parents."

  "Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "You didn't have to tell me all that."

  He tipped his head to the side. "I wanted to. I want to make sure you know I'm a man who makes time for his family. Does that change your mind about going out with me?"

  "No, but it certainly doesn't hurt your case." I grinned at him. It was sort of sweet the way he kept trying to convince me. I'd never really been pursued by a man before. "Look, can I be honest?"

  He crouched beside the car so he could look me in the eye. "By all means, I prefer to date an honest woman."

  "You scare me to death."

  He blinked. It was as significant as another person gasping in astonishment. My bluntness had taken him off guard.

  "I'm not my normal self around you, and I don't know why that is. All things being equal, you're tempting enough to make me want to figure out why, but you live right next door. If things didn't work out, it's not like we could avoid each other. Mac's already worried about weirdness. Add to that you're a cop, and you hate my job, and I'm sure it's not smart."

  "I don't," he said then added, "I don't hate the job, though I'm not crazy about you doing it. Even after you're trained. But it's not because I'm some kind of misogynistic jerk. I don't want to see you get hurt, Red."

  His brows drew together, and before I realized it, he was leaning into the car, cupping my cheek. It seemed only natural to tilt my chin, for my eyelids to lower, to part my lips in eager anticipation of his searing kiss. I knew down to the marrow of my bones it would be hot, too. Altering even.

  "Ahem," a female voice said from behind Hunter.

  I swore, lurching back into the steering column. Helga's horn blasted out. Meanwhile, Hunter smacked his head against the door as he struggled to stand and turn as quickly as possible.

  "I finished the list," my mother said from behind him. "I was going to text you and saw that your car was still here. Who are you?"

  "Mom," I said, still reeling at her sudden appearance.

  "Hunter Black, ma'am." My neighbor was rubbing what had to be a rising lump on the back of his head, but he offered the other hand to Agnes.

  She didn't take it.

  "Mom," I said again, this time with censure in my voice. It wasn't like her to be rude to anyone, other than me of course. "He's—"

  "I thought you rushed out of there in a hurry. Of course it was to meet some man."

  "Mrs. Taylor," Hunter began, but she rolled right over the top of him.

  "Honestly Mackenzie, will you never learn? Sneaking out to meet some lowlife under my nose, same as when you were a willful teenager. I would have thought one unplanned pregnancy was enough for one lifetime for any woman."

  "Mom!" I shouted. "He lives here."

  She had built up a solid head of steam because it took her another seven seconds of ranting about my poor judgment and taste in men before the diatribe abruptly shut off. "What do you mean he lives here?"

  Hunter pointed at the darkened windows of his own apartment. "That's my place right there. Albert rented to me a few months before his passing."

  My mother blinked up at him, opened her mouth, but then closed it again without speaking.

  "We just met the other day," I added before turning back toward Hunter. "My mother plans on moving into the upstairs apartment. She's a better watchdog than Snickers. I just thought I should let you know, so you don't try anything."

  "I wouldn't dare," the detective muttered. "Mrs. Taylor, it was…memorable."

  Just like his first encounter with me. He must have thought my entire family tree was certifiable. I wasn't sure he'd be wrong in such an assessment.

  "I'll see you ladies later." With a nod to my mother he headed up the steps and let himself in through the front door. A moment later a light came on in his apartment. I wondered what it was like in there. Hunter didn't strike me as a stereotypical bachelor, with pizza boxes and empty beer cans scattered around his space. I bet it smelled great, with that hint of wood smoke and fresh air and the male spice that was uniquely his.

  I was so lost in daydreaming that I didn't pick up on my mother's intent until Helga's passenger's side door was yanked open. "What?"

  "Honestly, Mackenzie," My mother sounded all put out, like her making a scene in front of our new neighbor was somehow my fault.

  "Mom? What are you doing?"

  "Going to the store with you." She twisted around to reach the seatbelt. The harness snapped into place with a dire sounding click.

  "I had another errand to run."

  "Oh?" She pulled down the vanity mirror and was fussing with her perfectly coiffed hair. "What sort of errand?"

  "One for work," I stressed. "So you should probably go in and stay with Mac. Since it's getting so late and all."

  "Mac's fine. That man's a cop, you said. A detective? And Nona's upstairs too, so it's not like she's in the house all alone. She'll call if she needs anything." She flipped the visor back into place.

  I tried to think of any way out of dragging my mother on a surveillance run. Especially a surveillance run involving a couple she knew. Somehow I doubted she'd approve of my plan to stake out the Fox residence and see what was up. And the thought of being trapped in the car with her for however long was close to unbearable.

  The memory of witnessing a homicide was still fresh. Did I really
want my mother to witness the same sort of horror? "Mom, I'm not dropping off a check at the PTO. This is for a murder investigation."

  Her green eyes narrowed to slits. "And what makes you any more qualified to investigate than I am? Besides, two sets of eyes are better than one." She spoke deliberately as if she'd somehow rehearsed this conversation ahead of time.

  I wondered if Uncle Al had ever been bullied into an unwanted ride-along. Somehow, I doubted it.

  "I'm not getting out of this car, so just forget it." Agnes Taylor squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

  I never knew she had such a stubborn streak. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone here: find out what happened with her and The Captain and maybe even talk her into heading back home where she belongs. That would be worth a few hours of discomfort.

  "You have to promise not to interfere with what I'm doing." I wagged my finger in her face as though lecturing a naughty child. I'd never been so stern with Mac—then again, my daughter was reasonable.

  She looked so hopeful, even excited. "I promise. Are we going?"

  "We're going." I let out a string of internal curses and shifted Helga into reverse. "Java help me, we're going."

  * * *

  "It's that one." My mother pointed at a large brick edifice on the opposite side of the street.

  I parked along the curb in front of a darkened house and stared at the building. "You're sure?"

  "I was here for a New Year's party a few years ago. It's a family home. They wouldn't have sold."

  This was as close as I was going to get without using Mac for internet verification. That reminded me. I picked up my cell phone and texted her. Do me a solid and look up Rose Fox on Facebook.

  A second later. A solid as opposed to a liquid.

  Just look, smartass, I typed and added a little emoticon with his tongue sticking out.

  A pause. Then, What specifically about her?

  Pictures, relationship status. Stuff like that. She was having an affair, supposedly leaving her husband, but I'm wondering if that was public knowledge.

  I'm on it.

  An odd chill made me shiver.

  "Something wrong?" Agnes asked.

  I scanned the street before refocusing on the Fox house. Our position allowed me to see both the front and the side of the residence. There were at least two lights on upstairs, along with the flicker of what I assumed was a television on the main floor, and what looked to be a kitchen off to the side. No sign of a black Escalade, though there were several Cadillacs and a few Hummers along with a sprinkling of hybrids. Helga was the only muscle car in sight.

  My mother shifted. "So what are you hoping to see?"

  "Anything unusual." I kept my eyes trained on the front window.

  "Define unusual," Agnes said tartly.

  Binoculars. I needed to get binoculars. If it had been any other neighborhood, I would have gotten out and maybe walked the sidewalk in front of the property a few times to really get a feel for the place. But if anyone spotted me, I had no doubt the police would show up and arrest me for loitering in the prestigious neighborhood, and I had no money for bail. "I'll know it when I see it."

  "How on earth were the Foxes involved in your murder investigation?"

  I huffed out a breath. She wasn't going to stop until I gave her some information. Maybe I could use it to turn the tables. Deciding to leave the whole alternate lifestyle bit out, I summed up. "Rose Fox was having an affair with the victim."

  "No." My mother breathed the word, her tone a mixture of appalled excitement and genuine curiosity.

  "According to his ex-wife, yes." The hairs rose along the back of my neck, and I turned up the heat.

  "Did Robert know?"

  "Again, I only have her word for it, but yes, and he was devastated."

  "You just never know what goes on inside a marriage." My mother refocused on the house. "They seemed like such a contented couple."

  I guessed the swinging would do that for them. Keeping one eye on the house, I tossed out a line to see if it hooked anything. "So, do you know anyone else who cheated?" Dear old Dad, maybe?

  "That's hardly appropriate conversation," my mother huffed like a bird whose feathers had been ruffled.

  I decided to take that as a maybe. "You were all hot and bothered a minute ago when you heard about Rose's affair."

  "I was not," my mother said waspishly.

  I gave her my best get real look.

  She sighed. "Maybe I was a little bit glad to hear that Rose Fox's life wasn't as picture perfect as she made it seem. To tell you the truth I always envied her a bit. Her home, her clothes. Every door in Boston was open to her. She has such deep roots, a sense of permanence. She's truly embedded in the community and is liked and respected." Her tone was wistful.

  I stared at the Fox house. It looked as though it had stood there for a hundred years and would be there for another century. It was a far cry from the paper-thin carpet and beige walls of the various base housings I'd grown up in. It didn't matter where in the world we were, every place had a vibe of sameness, continuity. A total lack of personality. "You never said you wanted something like that."

  The illumination from the streetlight highlighted her face, and she offered me a wan smile. "What was the point? It's not like it was going to change. Even after your father retired our house always felt sort of…temporary."

  For me it had been, but I didn't say so. "Does The Captain know how you feel?"

  She shook her head. "I never told him. He provided so much, and complaining seemed almost ungrateful."

  The more she talked, the more I realized I'd never truly understand her. "And leaving him high and dry after three decades of marriage isn't? Don't you love him anymore?"

  She opened her mouth to respond then shut it and shook her head. "You don't understand."

  I was ready with a comeback, but movement in the kitchen window snagged my attention—two silhouettes, one large and male, the other smaller and most likely female. I squinted, then on a flash of brilliance, pulled out my cell phone, hit the photo app, and zoomed in.

  "What's going on?" My mother squinted as though that would somehow improve her eyesight.

  "Judging from the overt hand waving and squared-off posture, they're arguing." About her dead lover perhaps? I took a photo, unsure how it would come out.

  Agnes craned her neck so she could see my phone screen too. "Oh my, they're having quite a row, aren't they?"

  That was an understatement. Hands flailed, and even from the distance the wild gesticulation indicated severe upset. Still, we were both shocked when the man drew back his arm and smacked the woman.

  Agnes's hands flew to her face. I shut down the camera app and dialed 9-1-1. "Hello? I'd like to report a domestic disturbance."

  My mother tugged on my sleeve, shaking her head, her eyes round.

  "What's the nature of the disturbance?" The operator had a thick Southie accent.

  "A man and woman arguing." I waved my mother off, trying to focus on the conversation. "There's been physical violence."

  "Address?" the operator said.

  I rattled it off, then hung up and reached for the key. "We need to get the hell out of here. I don't feel like spending the rest of the night playing 20 questions with the police." Not to mention I didn't want to tip the Foxes off to the fact that they were being investigated.

  "Mackenzie," my mother spoke in a shaking voice. "There's a man outside my window."

  I whipped my head around, just in time to see a dark shape move away from the window and disappear into a row of hedges.

  "He was right outside the car?" I asked.

  She nodded. "I thought he was going to break in."

  Pepper spray in one hand, I threw open my door and followed. If I'd been thinking, I wouldn't have done it, left my mother alone on a dark night in a strange, albeit nice neighborhood. But there was that creeping sensation I'd had since we got here. As though someone had been spying on u
s.

  Because someone had. And I wanted to know why.

  I broke through the hedgerow and sprinted across a backyard. A dog barked, and floodlights came on at my undignified crashing—nothing stealthy about me as I blundered on, over a low stone wall and back out to the street behind. The one where I'd abandoned my mother. Where the heck did he go?

  I scanned the road and caught sight of him halfway up the next hill. He wore dark clothes, jeans, and sneakers, and he was in damn good shape because he was leaving me in the dust. There was no way I was going to run him down on my own. But I recalled that the street had no outlet, so unless he ducked into one of the houses, he would have no place to go.

  I cut back through another yard so the people with the dog didn't set him loose on me. Helga's door was still wide open and my mother still sitting there with her mouth hanging open. I dove inside and roared off, leaving what I was sure was decent tread on the street behind me.

  The guy was a runner, but I had a Hellcat, and I cut him off before he reached the rise where a black Escalade sat waiting. I spun the wheel, and my mother let out a shriek as the car performed one hell of a burnout before coming to rest directly in his path. A split second later he rebounded off the hood and went sprawling flat onto his back in the street.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I flung the door open again.

  "Is he dead?" my mother whispered.

  "I sure hope not." It was unlikely, though I might have to call for an ambulance if he'd cracked his skull open in the middle of the street. Pepper spray in one hand, I approached slowly, hoping he wasn't armed because I was sure he was pissed. I would be if some crazy chick parked a hot car on a dime in my way when I'd been running at full speed.

  I rounded the front of the Challenger, scanning for any sign of my stalker. Weird, I hadn't seen him pop back up and he hadn't hit the car that hard. Unless…

  I spun on my heel and crouched in front of the car to see if he'd slithered beneath it. I only had time to make out a stubble-covered chin before he dosed me with his own vial of pepper spray. I stumbled back and went down hard on my keister, cussing a blue streak.