“Harnesses?” I asked.
Cortnie snorted. “Harnesses are for draft horses, or horses that pull a cart. Those are bridles: headstalls with bits and reins. Not many, and there are only a few halters.”
My phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. “Uta,” I said, then answered. “This is Mimi.”
“Skinner keeps calling. He really wants to talk to you. Says it’s important. Do you want me to give him your cell phone number?”
I contemplated this. I didn’t usually give my clients direct access to my cell phone, because I’d learned in the past that it’s difficult to have a number blocked.
“Can you conference him in?”
“He’s adamant about having your number. Says for the money he’s paying, he should be able to reach you at any time.” Uta sounded worried.
“I have his card,” I told her. “I’ll call him.”
I pulled the card he gave me from my handbag. Why I’d kept it on me, I don’t know, but I did. I put a block on my cell number and called him. It went to voice mail. He obviously didn’t take calls from unknown numbers. With the time he’d been having with Bucky, I guess I didn’t blame him. I left a message.
“Skinner, it’s Mimi. I’m going to call back from a blocked number again in two minutes. If you want to talk to me, you’ll answer. If not, either you didn’t get this message, or you don’t want to talk that bad. Please stop badgering Uta; she’s not going to give you my cell phone number. Thanks.”
I hung up and looked around the tack room a bit more. “Sort of smells like sweat.”
Cortnie said, “Horse sweat. I love this smell.”
Gag.
Charles pulled up and rolled down the window. “Come on,ladies, time’s a wastin’.”
We walked out to the Land Rover. “Aren’t you riding home with Nick?”
“No, he’s going to stay here with Gabe and chat with Rayna, see what other information they can glean from her and her daughter. Figure out if she’s a suspect, which I think she is, and then wait for CSU to arrive.”
I had been ready to call Skinner back, until Charles said he thought Rayna was a suspect, then I pressed the red dot and hurried to the car. Cortnie wasn’t far behind. I got in the passenger seat, and Cortnie came around to get in the back, but on the passenger side.
“Why Rayna?” I asked.
“Because she’s the wife.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as he drove up the hill and around the house, slowing as he passed the house.
“That’s it?”
Cortnie shoved his shoulder. “No way that’s it.”
“What else is there? She didn’t really say anything. But I also think she has a thing for Skinner.” Charles winked then wiggled his brows. He pulled my car up next to Nick’s Boxster, put it in park and got out.
“What now? I thought you were in a hurry to leave?”
“My jacket and vest are in his car.”
Cortnie and I craned our necks to see over toward the bucking chutes, hoping to get a look at Gabe and maybe a glimpse of Bucky’s pink shirt. I asked her, “What do you think?”
“I think the list could be very long, starting with our client. Do you think Skinner was looking for an alibi?” Cortnie’s words made my skin crawl.
I hadn’t been down in the trenches myself, so I asked, “How bad was he?”
Cortnie gave me the gory details of Bucky’s body.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but from the first moment I saw the pink shirt on the ground, I thought we’d been set up. Skinner either had an accomplice, or he’d sent us to Pam’s place while he came out here to off Bucky. But all of the pieces would have to have fallen in place for this to have been planned. Second degree murder at best, right, I told myself. Someone confronted Bucky, and he got smug with them. In the heat of the moment, the person lost it, and bashed him over the head. Once the person hit him, and Bucky was down, they just kept hitting him. Or had one hit killed him? Did the blow to the head kill him, or was it something else?
Bucky Cox wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, and he wasn’t a young looking fifty or sixty-year-old. He’d been rode hard all his life, probably lots of drinking, and not enough sleep during all those years of traveling down the rodeo road. That will catch up with a guy. All the makeup and lighting in the world wasn’t going to make Bucky Cox look young again. Bucky wasn’t going for young and hip, though. He was going for a George Bush “good ol’ boy” campaign.
Anyone who’d come up against him in city or county business knew he wasn’t a good ol’ boy. He was tough as nails. But I’d bet he’d change his attitude for a greased palm. I felt sorry for Nick and Gabe, because they’d have a lot of suspects, and a lot of people to interview.
I wondered if Cortnie and Gabe talked shop. “Gabe ever talk about his cases?”
Bored, and now sitting back against the seat, Cortnie said, “Sometimes. He talked a lot about the vice squad, and still talks about what’s happening with the sting operation, and Wanda.”
“I mean ongoing homicide investigations.” I was hoping we’d be able to get some intel on this one.
“Not so far, but I haven’t really asked. I’ve been kinda busy picking up the slack for you, then Charles.”
She didn’t say the words maliciously, but they still stung. I’d had a rough year, finding out the history of my dead husband’s family, and still not knowing for sure if my husband was really dead, even though the feds assured me he was. Then Charles and the loss of his long-time partner, and his car. He’d taken it pretty hard. Cortnie never faltered. She worked hard and never complained. She deserved a raise, and I’d give her one if I could afford it.
“You can stop talking about me now.” Charles got back in the car.
“It’s not all about you, dear,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” he said, “it is.”
I’m not sure why I bothered. This game played over and over like a broken record. He always thought we were talking about him when he was out of the room, or maybe he just hoped we were
That’s when I remembered I was supposed to call Skinner back. I redialed his number and he picked up on the first ring.
“Can you not tell time?”
“Yeah, well, I got distracted, sorry. So what was so important?” At this point I felt no compulsion to be cordial with him.
“I’d been calling you to see what Pam said, but then I just got a text message from Rayna. She said Bucky’s dead.”
Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Why would she do that?
“Really? You and Rayna close?” For the benefit of everyone in the car, I said, “Because I find it weird that his body isn’t even cold yet, and she’s sending you a text to let you know he’s dead.”
“I traveled with her husband for years, Mimi, what do you think? Of course, she’s going to let me know if something tragic happened to him.” Skinner sounded annoyed.
Charles said, “Now the wife is really a suspect.”
Skinner hesitated, then said, “There might be a problem.”
Here we go again. “My fingerprints are going to be out at the ranch.”
“And why would that be, Skinner?” My head was ready to explode.
“I was there this morning.”
I reached into my handbag and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen. I put the phone on speaker, opened the bottle and asked, “What the hell were you doing at the ranch this morning? You said there was a no trespass order or something.” I pretended I didn’t already know he’d been here.
I shook two pills out of the bottle and tossed them to the back of my throat, then grabbed the bottled water sitting in the middle console and twisted off the cap. I’d started to swallow the pills when Skinner answered.
“I was going to buy Mojo back.”
I spit the water out all over the windshield and dashboard of my car, and nearly choked on the pills. Coughing, I was barely able to swallow them.
This just keeps getting better and better.
Chapter
6
CHARLES
I couldn’t get Mimi back to the office fast enough. I’m not good in a car full of raging estrogen, and Mimi was raging. This Skinner guy was someone I really wanted to meet. I mean, he had to be some kind of con artist. He had Mimi, Jackie and Cortnie believing that Bucky had committed some sort of fraud against him. The women were jumping through hoops to prove his innocence, and the sad part was they even made it sound plausible. I really wish I’d been in on the original meeting.
Everyone was glad to be back at the office, and out of the dirt and manure. Only Cortnie seemed nonplussed by the scenery of the morning’s events. I had a perfectly good morning nearly ruined by getting dust and stink on my suit. But then again, that’s what a good dry cleaner is for. Still, I had a smile on my face, because I’d had a pretty good test drive, and a handsome dude in the passenger seat.
We sat around the reception area of the Gotcha offices, discussing the morning’s events. The girls had changed into reasonable clothes, which for them was black stretch pants and black T-shirts, and I stayed dressed in my perfectly tailored suit. I mean when something fits this good, and looks even better, you want to show it off, even if the people around you don’t appreciate it. I’d checked myself in the bathroom when we returned, and I hadn’t been “on the farm” long enough to retain any of the stink. Thank goodness.
“Was it his southern drawl that suckered you two in? Because last I remember, I was in business with two fairly intelligent women. I’m not sure what case he had for you to investigate in the first place.”
Mimi pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and had her eyes closed. “I really don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not happy about being made to look like a fool.”
Cortnie said, “I don’t think he played us. He wanted the theft charges dropped. He wanted the fraud case to be a criminal case, not civil, and he wanted to regain his good credit rating. It all seemed legit. Still seems legit, except I don’t see a criminal or a civil trial any time soon.” She looked at us sideways.
“And he wanted an alibi when he went to kill Bucky Cox,” I said. I loved rubbing it in, even though I think this Skinner guy was originally on the up and up, he may have lost his mind and killed Bucky. Hell, Bucky was a politician after all, and at any given moment, people wanted to kill politicians. It’s been known to happen.
I heard the front door open, and Uta said, “Well, hello.”
I could hear the appreciation in her voice, so I leaned forward to see who had walked in. Cortnie and Mimi looked, too. The temperature rose about twenty degrees in five seconds.
“I’m looking for Charles Parks.”
At that moment, I wished Mimi and Cortnie were gone. I didn’t want to share Max with anyone else yet.
I stood. “Max, come in. We’re in here, discussing an interesting morning.”
Max, looking more casual in faded jeans, an army green polo shirt, and athletic shoes, turned toward us. When he smiled, he beamed. “Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”
“No, not at all. Come on in, and I’ll introduce you to my business partner and friends.” I so didn’t want to introduce him. Damn it.
I walked up to meet him, and touched his elbow. Mimi and Cortnie had been strangely silent. When I turned to look at them, I saw why. The fools were drooling. Literally drooling. How humiliating.
Just for fun, I said, “Swallow, ladies.”
Both of them glared at me. That made it all worth it.
Max chuckled. He was obviously used to the attention.
“Max Daniels, this is my business partner, Mimi Capurro.” I looked at him as I made the introduction and I swore I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But it had to be my imagination, because there was no way these two could ever have met.
Mimi finally came to her manners. “Max, my pleasure.”
When I introduced Cortnie, I didn’t see the same flicker, but the introductions were over, and I could be done with the ladies. Or at least I thought.
“Are you a coffee drinker?” Mimi asked. “I was just about to pour a couple of iced white mochas.”
Max sat down and said, “I’d love one.”
Mimi got up and sashayed into the kitchen, as if this guy was going to give her a second look. Cortnie knew better, and she just smiled as she followed Mimi out of the room, so they could go into the kitchen and do whatever it is girls do when they get into a room alone together. Giggle, fan themselves, who knows?
Sit down, meet the family. Would you like me to call my mom, you can meet her, too? Not!
Could this day get any better? Wait, what on earth was I complaining about? The car salesman I met this morning had looked me up and come to my place of business, unprompted. Does it get any better than this? He’s hot. I’m hotter. Oh yes!
“I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this. I should have called, but I was in Salinas, and I thought I’d take a chance. I wanted to talk to you about the 911 E you drove this morning.”
My heart sank. “It’s been sold.”
Max sighed, then finally said, “You’re going to think I’m a creepy guy, but I looked you up after you left.”
Creepy, but yeah, baby, he was interested. “Okay.”
“Look, it’s not like you think.”
Strike one.
“I ran your driver’s license, and I looked up your history. I don’t want you to get caught up in something you can't get out of.”
I wasn’t so smitten with this guy at the moment. “Cut to the chase. I’m not good with beating around the bush.”
“I’m part of an FBI sting operation.” He pulled out a leather wallet and showed me his FBI credentials. “Marriotto Imports have been under surveillance for some time. We think they are importing stolen cars. It’s quite an elaborate operation, and I can’t give you the details, but the car you’re looking at was stolen. If you purchase it, and the operation busts open, you’ll be out your money and your car.” Max frowned, looking sincere, but worried.
“So just who exactly are you then?” This is the part I hated about being single. All of the lies you had to wade through to find the truth, and to find a decent individual.
“I’m really Max Daniels. I’m working under my real name. I really do work for the FBI.” He shoved the credentials at me again. “I’ve been cleared to come talk to you. I’m not about to put my job, or the operation, in jeopardy for some good looking guy who came in to buy an expensive car.” The edges of his lips turned up a smidgen.
“I’m not your average good looking guy, but that’s beside the point. If you looked me up, you know my history, I take it?” If he was FBI, he already knew more about me than most people.
“Right,” Max admitted. “And so I had to contact you without calling you, to tell you not to buy that car.”
I blew out a breath. “Now what? I wanted that car.”
Max laughed. “Believe me, you don’t want that car. I know your car was trashed, but this situation would make that look like a day at circus.”
“This is looking like a three-ring circus. So now what?”
Mimi came back in with the iced mochas, and Cortnie followed her with a tray of muffins.
Max accepted the mocha, but said, “Oh, you shouldn’t have, I’m watching my figure.”
Mimi responded, “That’s good, I’m watching your figure, too.” Then blushed.
Max frowned at me, making it clear the previous conversation was over. “But I do have another car I’d love to show you. If you aren’t busy tonight, maybe we can go for a test drive.”
My heart definitely went pitter patter. I was acting like a girl, all hormonal and shit. I was too old for this childish stuff. I felt like I was going on a date, and it felt really cool.
“Test drive it is. I’m so sorry the car I drove this morning didn’t work out.”
Mimi sat down on the couch across from Max, I’m sure to get a better view as she conversed. “What happened to the car you looked at th
is morning?”
“It’s no longer on the market,” I said. I put on my best disappointed face.
“How does that work? Did someone buy it?” Mimi asked, acting like she was an idiot.
“Something like that.” Max chugged his mocha to avoid having to say more.
“Okay.” Mimi caught the gist, at least I think.
“What did I miss?” Jackie came barreling into the reception room. She’d dressed down a bit from the morning’s funeral attire, too. Only Jackie never really dressed down.
She wore brick red skinny jeans, with black sandals, and a tight purple shirt topped with a nicely tailored black jacket. The jacket hung past her hips, and covered her thighs, because no matter how thin and fit Jackie was, I think she still saw the fat girl in the mirror. This is an outfit that would look like a clown on a lesser woman, but looked like it had come straight off the runway on Jackie.
When she’d been bigger, she had worked hard to dress well, and dress for her size. No one would accuse her of too short, too tight, or even remotely inappropriate. Professional, almost too professional, to the point where she’d forgotten the difference between work and leisure. But over the years, she’s relaxed a bit. She was lucky she had me, or she’d be wearing all black everyday, just like Mimi. I really needed to teach Mimi some fashion sense, or maybe Jackie needed to. Someone, anyone. Mimi needed help.
“Miss about what?” I asked, all the while assessing her outfit.
“Skinner?” She sounded annoyed.
Mimi stood, then put her arm out to gesture toward Max. “Jackie, we have company. Charles’ friend Max stopped by.”
This was Mimi’s way of telling Jackie to shut up.
Jackie frowned, continuing into the room at a more delicate pace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had guests.”
Introductions were made all around, and now Max had yet another woman drooling over him.
“I can catch her up to speed. I need to get to work anyway. I have some things I want to look up.” Cortnie stood. “Nice meeting you, Max. I hope to see more of you.”
Mimi glared at Cortnie.
Cortnie said, “Not like that kind of ‘more of him’. Jeez, Mimi.”
Electile Dysfunction (Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Book 6) Page 7
