Poison and Prejudice (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Chelsea Field

  “He has a whole photo wall,” I said. One that had been installed by a professional picture hanging service the day after he’d moved in.

  “Good. You can photograph it for us so we can analyze each person on it at our leisure.”

  “I could install a GPS tracker in his car so we know what he gets up to when he’s not with Izzy,” Harper volunteered. “Especially if Izzy can arrange access for me.”

  I was making a mental list. Take note of everyone Zac spoke to. Take snaps of the zillion photos on his wall without him noticing. Steal his keys to give Harper access to his car, also without him noticing. Then make sure he didn’t go down to his garage while she installed a probably illicit surveillance device. Yep. This case was shaping to be a lot of fun.

  My sarcastic thought made me think of Etta. She would think it was fun. And she’d be furious if she ever found out what we were doing without her. But while I was a danger magnet, she was a danger enthusiast, and the two of us combined was a recipe for disaster. I was hoping to finish this investigation without anyone taking a bullet for me.

  I added another item to my list: act cool around Etta, and don’t give her cause for suspicion. Pity she was as sharp as they come.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “If you see an opportunity for Zac to open up to you, jump on it. The more we know about him the better. Alyssa too. Maybe you can use your position with Zac to somehow get her to talk.”

  Thinking of the way she almost skewered me on the red carpet, I doubted it, but I murmured my agreement anyway.

  “The victims won’t be found on any official records or even social media, so getting to know our perpetrators is the only tack we can take.”

  No wonder Homeland wanted my help.

  “If Zac and Alyssa have teamed up on the human trafficking, is it possible they’re both involved in the murder as well?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s possible.”

  “Excellent,” Harper said. “I figure your Homeland agents will have all the obvious angles covered, so if we’re going to show them up, we need to think outside the box rather than following the primary trail of evidence.”

  I hadn’t realized “showing up” Homeland was one of our goals.

  “So while Homeland is monitoring Zachariah Hill and the missing body tonight, Izzy and I can watch his estranged wife.” She smiled. “I’ve never spied on such a high-profile celebrity before. This is going to be fun.”

  Connor raised one eyebrow. “And what will I be doing?”

  “You can take the graveyard shift while Izzy and I get our beauty sleep.”

  Our plotting was interrupted by a text from the man we were plotting against.

  I’m ready for lunch if you’re available.

  Harper excused herself, saying she’d given the car enough of a “test drive” by now, and Connor insisted on taking me to Zac’s. “That way you can casually mention I’m waiting for you outside.”

  I was torn between admitting how much that comforted me and giving him further fuel for his argument against my involvement. Maybe those self-defense lessons would be a good thing.

  We got in his black SUV (pigeon-poop free) and pulled out of the garage. When he spoke again, it was apparent his mind was still preoccupied with my safety.

  “I don’t want you spending any more time than you have to with Zac today. You’re exhausted, and your nerves are shot. Now is not the time to take unnecessary risks.”

  “But it’s his day off. When he’s most likely to meet with his felonious co-conspirators and, you know, do something with that missing dead woman.”

  “Felonious co-conspirators?”

  “Would you prefer the term bad guy buddies?”

  Connor’s lips twitched. “Much better.”

  I swatted him on the arm. “Stop distracting me from my argument. You know what I’m saying is true.”

  “And you know what I’m saying is true. You’re taking on a job you’re not qualified for, and you need to be at the top of your game. You aren’t going to do those poor girls any good if in your overwrought state you take a misstep that gets you killed. Homeland can keep tabs on Zac for the day.”

  “They didn’t see him move the body.”

  “Neither did you.”

  Touché.

  “I’m betting that body is still in the garage somewhere. Preferably not being broken down by acid, but that’s beside the point.”

  Connor stopped the car on the side of the road. Despite not being anywhere near Zac’s house yet.

  “Look, Izzy, I’m going against every instinct I have to go along with you doing something this dangerous. Please promise me that you’ll at least be cautious. Take today off—as much as you can—to recuperate before you jump in the deep end. For me.”

  Connor had never pleaded with me before. For anything. In fact, I’d never even heard him use the word please outside conventional manners.

  Plus he was right, as usual. I wasn’t functioning as well as I would on decent sleep and some time to come to terms with the horrible revelations of the day. The fact I’d freaked out over the missing body instead of letting my logic catch up and overrule my emotions proved that.

  Surely Homeland’s agents could keep eyes on the entry and exit points to Zac’s place, which meant they’d see anyone who came or went. Even if I was there, it wasn’t like Zac would openly discuss human trafficking and murder in front of me, so my presence wouldn’t add much value. It could even stop Zac from organizing a meeting that might otherwise lead to a breakthrough.

  Connor was waiting for my response. His gray eyes almost… vulnerable.

  “Okay. I’ll taste his lunch for him and come straight back. Except maybe I should at least walk through the garage—”

  He’d grabbed my hand when I’d said okay, but now his grip tightened. “No.”

  “Right. In and out. No extracurricular activities.”

  He pulled me to him and explored my mouth with his. “Thank you.”

  I released him reluctantly. “You should have started with the kissing part.”

  “Really?” He kissed my hand before rejoining the traffic on the road. “After lunch we’ll do a replay then.”

  Zachariah Hill didn’t kill me. In fact, he asked about my cat—the one I’d allegedly run off to see—and acted completely normal. I started to wonder whether the valet might have stashed a body in Zac’s trunk. Except how could the valet have then stolen the body from the locked garage? And why would he?

  The most obvious explanation was that Zac had sent me on the juice errand specifically so he could move the body. It wasn’t uncommon for me to lounge around a client’s place all day rather than driving back and forth from my apartment. That way the client could eat or drink whenever they wanted, and I spent fewer hours on the road stuck in Los Angeles traffic. So it followed that Zac realized he wouldn’t be able to dispose of the body until I’d left for the night and didn’t want it doing… decomposing dead body things in his car trunk. He could’ve shifted it somewhere and jumped in the pool before I returned.

  No matter how nice he gave the impression of being, he was an actor. Portraying himself the way he wanted to be perceived wouldn’t be a challenge for him. I’d mentioned Connor was on the street below, so he might have chosen to wait for a better opportunity. I had returned to him after all and would continue doing so. That alone should have removed me from Zac’s suspicion as the policewoman had pointed out. If only I’d found that earring.

  Still, I escaped his clutches unscathed and promised to be back for dinner.

  Connor waited until we were halfway home before he played his final card. The one he wouldn’t have been able to bring up in front of Harper. The one he probably hadn’t wanted to throw at me just before I’d needed to act normal around Zac.

  “Before you commit to this case, there’s one more thing you should consider.”

  “Oh?” I was guessing I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

/>   “The Taste Society won’t allow you to be an informant on one of your clients. It breaches the confidentiality agreement.”

  “Surely murder and human trafficking supersede that.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said. “There are no exceptions stated in the agreement except for that which is in the interest of protecting the client. If you insist on going ahead with this, you’ll have to tell your handler and deal with the fallout.”

  I stared at him, wondering if he’d reconsidered going along with the plan while I’d been with Zac and was making this up to protect me.

  One way to find out. “Fine, I’ll call right now.”

  I dialed my handler’s number. His name was Jim, but God forbid I call him by it.

  “State your ID,” he said, sounding grumpy as he always did. I wondered whether he knew my number and the grumpy greeting was an Izzy special or just how he was with all his Shades.

  Since I wanted to be on his good side, I said, “Shade 22703.”

  “What’s this about?” His tone made it sound like he’d asked What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?

  I explained the situation as succinctly as I could.

  “That’s a breach of contract. You’ll have to tell those Homeland Security grunts you’ve changed your mind.”

  “But aren’t murder and human trafficking a breach of contract?”

  “Technically, our contract doesn’t cover them.”

  “So?”

  “Meaning it doesn’t exclude them, which means the all-encompassing confidentiality agreement stands.”

  “I can’t back out of this, Jim,” I said, then cursed under my breath. That slip-up was going to cost me.

  “No bloody names! And you better find a way to back out of it, or your ass is on the line.”

  Wow. It hadn’t occurred to me that the Taste Society might fire me over something like this. A slap on the wrist maybe, but fire me? What the hell would I do?

  After I’d befriended Abraham Black and found him a job outside the debt collection business, I knew he wouldn’t come after me again. But there would always be other hired muscle available for my loan shark to outsource to.

  However, if I was willing to risk my life, albeit a hopefully small risk, it was ridiculous to let the possibility of losing my job stand in the way. Yet somehow it didn’t feel ridiculous. Probably because I had a much greater chance of losing it.

  The problem was, it didn’t change the fact those girls needed help. How could I live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to save them?

  I couldn’t.

  Dammit.

  At least I wasn’t behind on my debt at the moment. The recent apartment fire had chewed up the little I’d set aside, but I’d have time to find another line of work. Never mind I wasn’t qualified for anything else that paid well enough.

  “Speak up, Shade 22703. I’ve got better things to do than listen to the cogs of your brain squeak.”

  “I guess… I guess I’m officially putting my ass on the line then.”

  He grunted like he couldn’t care less. “Well, that’s outside my jurisdiction, so I’ll set up a meeting for you with one of the legal reps. I’ll let you know the time and place.”

  He disconnected before I could reply.

  7

  Aside from my dread over the upcoming Taste Society meeting and the brief interlude I spent tasting food for Zac, the afternoon passed pleasantly. Connor had obliged on the replay he’d mentioned and then gotten some work done while I caught up on sleep. He was right, as usual. It had been good for me. Calm determination had replaced the feeling that my frayed self might unravel at any moment.

  Even so, I was a whole lot less enthusiastic about our surveillance assignment than Harper was. In my experience, surveillance meant hours of boredom interspersed with points of extreme danger.

  But then Harper had hundreds more hours under her belt than me, so maybe I’d been doing it wrong.

  She was picking me up from Connor’s before we headed up to Alyssa’s place in Hollywood Hills. He had the surveillance equipment and had offered a car as well, but Harper had told him she’d come up with her own vehicle.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off in Hollywood Hills so you can meet Harper there?” Connor asked for what must have been the third time.

  “I’m sure,” I repeated, puzzled about why he kept offering. He wasn’t exactly the clingy type. “Harper will be here soon.”

  As if on cue, an Aston Martin DB11 rolled into the circular driveway.

  I whistled. “Nice ride.”

  “Why thank you. I figured you can’t spy on an A-list celebrity in their multimillion-dollar neighborhood without a car that’ll blend in.”

  The Aston Martin was hardly designed to blend in, but she wasn’t wrong.

  “How’d you get your hands on one of those?”

  “I borrowed it.”

  Connor cut in. “I believe technically if you borrow a possession without the owner’s knowledge or agreement, it’s called theft.”

  “And I believe theft doesn’t tend to involve the unharmed return of said possession, so let’s not bicker over definitions, shall we? You’ll make Izzy uncomfortable.”

  It was true. I was feeling a little uncomfortable.

  Connor started transferring equipment into the passenger seat, and I hoped there’d be enough room left for me when he was done. There was an infrared video camera, a high-zoom camera, extra batteries for both, a baseball cap which had yet another camera hidden in its front panels, two suction monopod mounts you could stick on a window or dash, binoculars, two flashlights, and car window shades including one for the front windshield to make it appear that the car was unoccupied and had been parked there before sundown.

  I added the snacks I’d packed, thinking that this was looking to be a whole lot more high-tech and professional than my and Etta’s operation had been. Hopefully that meant I’d be in less danger on this occasion as well. I’d retrieved my trusty Taser and pepper spray regardless.

  “So why didn’t you go into the family PI business?” I asked Harper. She was bouncing on her heels raring to go, and I couldn’t understand why she’d become a mechanic if she loved surveillance so much.

  “I didn’t want to show Connor up all the time. Between you and me, he’s a sore loser.”

  Connor continued checking and transferring the equipment and ignored the pair of us.

  “I remember this day when I beat him at cards, he threw the prize pool at me and accused me of cheating.”

  This newest slander was apparently too much for Connor to wear in silence. “That’s because you were cheating.”

  Harper grinned at getting a rise out of him. “It was still unsportsmanlike of you. Those candies were hard, you know.”

  I refrained from snickering—barely—and Connor went back to stoic silence.

  “Then what led you to become a mechanic?” I asked.

  Connor spoke before Harper could answer. “The real question is why you’re here butting into this investigation instead of in your garage.”

  “Hey, the investigation butted in on me when I found that dead woman in the trunk. Plus it’s nice to have a change of pace now and then. You should try it sometime, Mr. Routine Lover.”

  Connor looked at us both. “Thanks to the women in my life, I have all the impulsive adventure I need.”

  “Hey,” I protested. “You’re including me in that?”

  “You are the reason we’re all here.”

  He had a point. I hate it when the person I’m debating with has one of those.

  I hugged him anyway, then hopped into the car, positioning myself gingerly among the gear. Harper took off in a spray of gravel, and I caught sight of Connor ducking out the way and possibly making a rude gesture too. The same gesture I’d used on Oliver last night?

  We sped out onto the road and then up into the narrow winding roads of the hills, and I had the unset
tling feeling that Harper had learned to drive from watching The Fast and the Furious. But maybe it was a misperception caused by being so low to the ground. I glanced at the speedometer on the dash and gulped. Maybe not. I was starting to see how having Harper as a little sister might have pushed Connor more toward his serious, protective, no-fun disposition.

  Not something I was going to mention to her. Not when my life depended on her control of the wheel. I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t taking the most direct route to our surveillance target’s home and was glad I didn’t get motion sickness easily. Even so, I felt queasy by the time we arrived on the right street, and it was a relief when we parked beside the curb in front of Alyssa’s mansion. Well, Alyssa and Zac’s, I supposed. Had it been purchased with blood money?

  The place looked more like a castle than a modern home, but I trusted it had all the latest comforts and amenities. I couldn’t fathom how anyone might think an extra twenty square feet of space in the room where you pee could be worth the lives of innocent girls.

  Harper was setting up the window shades and surveillance equipment. I went for the snacks. Division of labor and all that. But I’d have to wait for my stomach to settle before I ate them.

  Sticking the suction cup of the monopod to the dash, Harper glanced at me. “So in the recent madness, I haven’t had a chance to ask. How’d your date go?”

  “It was wonderful until I got bitten by a black widow, thank you. I heard you might have had something to do with the wonderful part.”

  She positioned the infrared video camera so it pointed at the mansion. “If I did, I would have been forced to swear I’d take it with me to my grave.”

  I snickered. “How did yours go? Have you seen Ethan again?”

  Harper sighed. “Yes. But he’s a total ass.”

  “Then why—?”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a man with a nice car, even though I know better. Mom’s lucky a bad guy never tried to pick me up in an awesome car as a kid. She warned me about stranger danger and candy, but that stuff would’ve flown straight out of my head at the sight of a Lamborghini Countach or a Ferrari F40. Unfortunately, nice cars and nice men are a rare combination.”