D.B. Hayes, Detective

by Darlene Scalera; Dani Sinclair

  “What!”

  He came off the door frame so fast, I didn’t have time to do more than flinch. Fear sent my heart slamming against my rib cage as he spanned the distance between us to loom over me with a ferocious look that left me quaking inside. Why had I thought coming here to gloat was a good idea?

  “Tell me exactly what he said,” Brandon demanded from between clenched teeth.

  I took a step back and wondered if I could reach the door before he did.

  “Every word, Dee.”

  I tried not to let him see I was intimidated even as I proceeded to tell him what Russo had said. Because I was watching him the way a mouse watches a bird of prey, I saw the shock and anger in his expression before his face turned impassive.

  “He lied,” Brandon said flatly.

  At least he hadn’t said I was lying.

  “I don’t think so.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Look, he sounded pretty embarrassed by the whole thing.”

  “Then why would he tell you about it?”

  “He was upset. I think he was sort of thinking out loud. Maybe he was trying to warn me.”

  “About what?”

  I shrugged and shifted, trying to inch my way toward the door without being obvious. “That it’s going to be a messy divorce?” I replied, not liking the uncertain tone in my voice.

  Brandon shook his head. “No way. A man like Russo doesn’t marry a much younger woman like Elaine without a prenup. He’s setting you up.”

  I blinked at his flat tone. “How?” I asked, truly curious.

  Brandon rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I don’t know. This makes no sense. Why would Elaine lie?”

  “Did she?”

  The green in his eyes flashed dangerously. “I did not sleep with Elaine Russo,” he enunciated carefully.

  Maybe it was naive, but I wanted to believe him.

  “In that case, you’re the one who’s being set up. Has it occurred to you that maybe there is a boyfriend? Maybe Elaine wanted her husband to go after someone else in his place?”

  He exhaled through his nose as he thought about that.

  “According to you,” he said slowly, “Russo isn’t coming after me. He’s filing for divorce.”

  “And if she’s using you to obtain it, there must be a reason.”

  We both fell silent. He looked tired, I realized, as he rubbed absently at his left shoulder. Those striking blue eyes were clouded in thought. Frown lines marred his forehead. And why was I noticing he had the sort of long, curling eyelashes I’d kill for?

  “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  His question caught me unprepared. My heart stuttered with a flash of instant excitement that I quickly suppressed.

  “No.”

  “The Tambor is only a couple doors away. The place has decent food. I missed lunch and breakfast and I think we need to talk.”

  I had to quell a surge of inappropriate disappointment. He wasn’t asking me on a date. He just wanted to pump me for information while he ate.

  So what? Sitting across from Brandon Kirkpatrick beat eating popcorn in front of the television set, no matter what questions he wanted to ask. Nothing said I had to answer those questions.

  “All right.”

  “Let me shut down my computer.”

  I followed him into his inner sanctum without an invitation. Like the outer office, the room was starkly impersonal but a whole lot messier. Papers and files covered his desk. Empty Styrofoam cups that had once held coffee were interspersed with fast-food wrappers and an old pizza box.

  As if embarrassed, he gathered up the trash quickly and tossed it out of sight in a wastebasket next to his desk. I knew he’d been here seven months at least, but the room felt so bare other than the clutter that it looked as if he had just moved in.

  His desk was twin to the one in the outer office and looked well used. A pair of slightly battered, matching teak filing cabinets rested against a blank wall while one of those all-in-one printer-fax-copier machines perched on a bookcase beside them. Another older-model computer sat on a stand beside his desk, but it wasn’t even plugged in. He had a slim portable computer open on his desk. I had the exact same model out in my car.

  From my angle I couldn’t see what was on the screen, so I scanned the papers spread across his desk. When he saw me craning to look, he immediately scooped them into a folder. But not before I saw that they were official police reports.

  What was Brandon Kirkpatrick doing with official reports on what appeared to be a murder investigation?

  “Big case?” I asked, trying for nonchalance.

  “No, it’s personal.”

  Yeah. Right. Hadn’t I known he’d get all the good cases because he was a man? Life wasn’t fair.

  Not surprisingly, they knew him at the restaurant. He flirted easily with the pretty black hostess and greeted the young waiter by name. Brandon ordered a beer and a steak dinner. Since this wasn’t a date and whatever I ate I’d have to pay for, I settled for a glass of water and a grilled chicken salad.

  Walking to the restaurant with him, I’d had time to think. Despite his assertions, Brandon and Elaine had seemed pretty cozy inside that piano bar. They’d also been inside that motel room long enough to be a lot closer than a client and her protector, even if it had been a quickie. Still, somehow it didn’t add up.

  “I wasn’t, you know,” he said as he raised his glass to take a sip of the foamy brew.

  I had no trouble following that statement. “Reading minds now? In a way, that’s too bad. If you’re going to have to face the consequences, you should at least have had the fun of an affair.”

  He set the glass down carefully. I could see I’d shocked him. That made me feel better and I settled back into the booth more comfortably.

  “She’s an attractive woman,” I added.

  “So are you, but I don’t sleep with a woman just because she’s attractive.”

  My stomach leaped into free fall. He thought I was attractive?

  “Your business,” I said, trying to sound blasé, “but if I were you, I’d start watching over my shoulder. Based on the rumors I’ve heard, Albert Russo isn’t the type to sit back and let the world know he’s been cuckolded without getting a little of his own back. It doesn’t matter if you’re innocent if he believes you’re guilty. There’s a man who works for him that looks like he could break you in half without even working up a sweat.”

  “Hogan Delvecchi,” he said with a scowl.

  “You’ve met him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to. The way I figure it, if you two weren’t having a go, the only reason Mrs. Russo would name you her lover is so her husband won’t damage the real one.”

  “Cheery thought.”

  A slight tic near his left temple was the only sign he was actually worried.

  “Whose idea was it to drive all the way into Pennsylvania?” I asked.

  “Mine. Elaine told me she was afraid of her husband. She wanted a place to hide where he wouldn’t find her. How sure are you that Russo told you the truth?”

  I had time to mull that over as our food arrived. I waited for the waiter to leave before I answered him.

  “Why would Russo lie to me? His story would be easy enough to check out. He said his staff heard the whole thing. Be pretty hard to get an entire group of people to lie about something like that, don’t you think?”

  He cut into his steak. The aroma made me drool, so I plunged my fork into my generous salad.

  “You said you tried calling her?” I added.

  “She’s not answering her phones and she hasn’t returned any of my messages.”

  “Big surprise there,” I said, forking up a large piece of lightly breaded chicken. “If I was setting some guy up to take a pounding, I wouldn’t be answering his calls either.”

  The round of dark rye bread they’d brought with the meal was fresh and warm and perfect, I discovered
after cutting off a generous hunk. I’m a confirmed carbohydrate junkie, and that bread was worth every calorie.

  As I chewed blissfully, I realized Brandon was watching me with the sort of fascination that made me aware of just how much I savored every bite. I set the bread down self-consciously.

  “Would you like to try a bite of my steak?” he offered.

  There was nothing sensual in the question, but the low-voiced delivery left me quivering on the inside.

  “No, thanks.” I could feel the pink staining my cheeks. “I enjoy fresh bread.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ll have to remember that.”

  I tamped down a rolling surge of lust, wishing I could control my blush as easily.

  “What are you doing here, Brandon?”

  “Having dinner with a beautiful woman.”

  So much for warm fuzzies.

  “You can’t help yourself, can you? You have to flirt with every woman you meet.”

  “Not every woman.”

  I set down my fork with more of a clatter than was really necessary.

  “Stick a sock in it, Kirkpatrick. I’m not interested in being part of a crowd. Did you ever think maybe that’s why Elaine chose you?”

  All hint of humor fled those brilliant blue eyes. I’ll give him credit—Brandon didn’t let a little thing like hurt pride stop him from thinking through what I’d said. He set his own knife and fork down more carefully and regarded me.

  “You could be right.”

  Okay, so maybe the words didn’t give me warm fuzzies, but his response wasn’t what I would have expected and I found myself warming to him all over again.

  “One of them was lying to us,” he said.

  “Gee, you think?”

  He ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll check it out—see if that scene really did take place in his office.”

  “And you’ll watch your back?”

  “Unless you’re offering to do it for me.”

  I sucked in a breath as another wave of instant lust hit me. Watching his back or any other part of him would be no hardship at all.

  “Sure. For a fee,” I said primly. “I don’t normally take on bodyguard cases, but it never hurts to diversify.”

  His grin melted my socks.

  “Your looks really are deceiving, aren’t they?”

  I bristled. “How am I supposed to take that comment?”

  “As a compliment, Dee. You look about seventeen. Bright, cheerful—”

  “If you say bubbly I’m going to have to stab you with your steak knife.”

  I felt his laughter like warm brandy sliding across my skin. Two women turned to look our way. I tried not to appear self-satisfied, but I did want to preen a bit. After all, it wasn’t every day I sat down with a man who looked as gorgeous as Brandon.

  “Look,” he said turning serious. “You’ve lived around here most of your life, right? If you’ll nose around, I’ll do the same and we’ll pool our information before one of us ends up in deep kimchi.”

  “Is that a real word?”

  “Kimchi? Yeah. Actually it’s a Korean dish of cabbage, onions, garlic and a bunch of other stuff I couldn’t identify. They ferment—”

  “Hold it. That’s more than I want to know. You’ve actually eaten it?”

  He shrugged lightly. “A Korean family lived next door to us a number of years ago.”

  I picked up my fork and plowed back into my salad wondering who the “us” referred to and whether I’d look too interested in him personally if I asked.

  “I’m not a big fan of cabbage,” I said around a mouthful of raw lettuce.

  He lifted his fork and steak knife and smiled. “Something else we have in common. Do we have a deal?”

  I couldn’t see how asking Aunt Lacy and Trudy a few questions about Russo and his wife and relaying their answers to Brandon could hurt, so I nodded and reached for another slice of bread.

  We finished the meal in companionable silence and both opted to pass on dessert and coffee. When the check came, I pulled out my wallet.

  “I’ll get it,” Brandon offered.

  Given the current state of my bank balance, I was sorely tempted, but this hadn’t been a date and I really didn’t want to find myself in debt to him, even over something as simple as a meal. I handed him a twenty, and after a second, he took it, checked the bill and made change from a wallet a whole lot thicker than mine.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered.

  “I can make it across the parking lot.”

  “You’re a prickly little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not little. You’re just supersized. What I am is careful,” I corrected. “If I’m right, Delvecchi or someone like him is out there somewhere just waiting for a chance to beat you to a pulp.”

  “Then maybe you should walk me to my car—for a fee, of course.”

  My stomach took a quick dip at the intense way he was looking at me.

  “How much?” he demanded.

  “What?”

  “How much would you charge to walk me to my car?”

  My heart started hammering way too fast. He was teasing, of course, but there was an intensity in his expression that was making it hard to think of anything beyond the fact that I’d give quite a lot to find out what it was like to kiss that tempting mouth.

  “What are you doing a week from Saturday?”

  I heard the question tumbling past my lips too late to call the words back. His eyes sort of darkened before humor set them to sparkling again.

  “What’s a week from Saturday?”

  There was no way out now. I had to tell him the rest.

  “A friend of mine’s getting married.”

  “You need a date?”

  The way he phrased it went a long way toward salving my pride. Not You need a date because you’re too unattractive to get one? but Why on earth would someone like you need a date? He was good. Better than good.

  “I’d prefer not spending the entire evening listening to a discourse on the Browns’ chances for next season.”

  I’d put off asking Billy Nugent to take me for that very reason. Brandon laughed out loud. Someone should bottle that laugh. They’d make a fortune selling that rich sound.

  “You’d rather hear about the Pittsburgh Steelers’ chances?”

  “Only if you have a death wish,” I told him smartly.

  His chuckle was almost as good as his laugh.

  “Look, there’s another reason I brought it up. A lot of people will be there. It’s an opportunity for us to ask some discreet questions. People in this town talk, and the Russos generate a lot of gossip. One of the bride’s sisters knows a clerk in the mayor’s office. Russo’s got connections there.”

  It sounded weak even to me, but Brandon nodded seriously.

  “Then it’s a deal. Come guard my back,” he invited. “My car’s over here.”

  I managed to keep pace with his much longer legs only because he shortened his stride to accommodate me. I found myself actually peering around the parking lot as evening stole across the sky. His burgundy Honda was only a few rows away from where I’d left my car.

  “Thank you,” he said seriously.

  “I should probably follow you home.”

  What was I saying?

  His smile did warm, disturbing things to my nerve endings.

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll give you a call later.”

  “You don’t have my number.”

  His easy grin warmed my insides.

  “I’m a detective. I’ll find it.”

  For one very brief second I thought he was going to lean down and kiss me. The bump to my heart rate and the roll in my abdomen left me breathless, but he just squeezed my upper arm gently and climbed into his car.

  I’m not sure, but I think I floated the rest of the way home. The most gorgeous man in Ohio was taking me to Lorna’s wedding. My friends would die.

  I was practically gidd
y—until I saw what was waiting for me inside my apartment.

  Chapter Five

  When I opened the door, my first thought was I’d been burglarized. The place was trashed.

  My pretty, sheer drapes hung from the broken rod in shreds. The turquoise vase I loved was a shattered memory. The artificial flowers it had held were scattered across the carpeting. My potted palm plant lay on its side, dirt spilled in all directions. Every knickknack and loose item had been knocked to the floor. Two were broken. The blue-and-green table runner was still partly on the table, but only because my grandmother’s crystal bowl was heavy enough to anchor it there. And Sam One shot out from under one of the dining room chairs to dart behind the couch.

  “You? You did all this?”

  As hard as it was to believe, I could see that the vicious little feline had indeed caused all the damage. Under the table was a pile of cat puke filled with leaves from my poor plant. Tiny black paw prints had left a trail in the dirt leading away from the mangled greenery.

  If I hadn’t been in such a good mood from my dinner with Brandon, I might have retrieved my gun and shot the beast. As it was, I settled for yelling at him.

  “What did you do? Throw a party?”

  The bedroom door was still shut, so he hadn’t had help. Nothing had been disturbed in the kitchen except the bowl I’d used for his water. He’d turned that over completely. I wondered if he’d done that before or after he’d scattered the used litter over the bathroom floor and walked in it with wet paws.

  “You are a bad, evil cat. No wonder you were wandering the streets. Who would keep you?”

  A quick peek in my bedroom gave me some relief. Everything in there appeared just as I had left it this morning. There was no sign of Sam Two, but I figured he was still under the bed.

  “You are a bad cat,” I scolded Sam One again as I began to pick up broken bits of glass. “A very, very, very bad cat. First thing tomorrow morning you are going to the pound, you hear me? Do you know how much drapes cost, you little fiend? I can’t afford new drapes. These are ruined! I can’t salvage them. And you broke the rod. How could you break the rod? Were you playing Tarzan on my drapes? I don’t believe this. And my favorite vase. Do you know how much I loved this vase? You are a bad cat. A really bad cat.”