Electile Dysfunction (Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Book 6)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  I took my time getting to the door, even if it meant Max would get in his impressive car and drive away. I couldn’t believe he’d honked. When I finally did open the door, I was back to myself again. “Max, come in. Sorry, I was at the back of the house, and I didn’t hear the door.”

  I stepped back, and I was wrong. I was totally blown away by Max. He wore cargo shorts with leather topsiders, and a white, skin tight, V-neck tee. Every muscle on his torso was ripped and calling my name, and his legs rivaled Lance Armstrong’s. His tan was perfect, like from a tanning bed, only he seemed too earthy for a tanning bed, so I guessed he ran without a shirt, or he was a cyclist. Either way, I liked the results.

  “Sorry about honking the horn, I’m not used to getting out of that car.” He looked back outside, before I closed the door.

  “Yes, I saw that car, a Super Speedster. Impressive.” But I wasn’t looking at the car.

  “You ready to go for a ride?” Max looked me up and down.

  I wasn’t ready. I wore only a bathrobe, but it was a silk robe with a paisley print, and I knew it showed my assets well. “I’ll be right back.”

  Unlike a woman, I knew what I wanted to wear. I threw on a pair of board shorts in baby blue, a lavender polo shirt and a pair of gray Chucks. I wanted to look good, but not compete with Max. He smelled clean, so I knew cologne was out of the question. I wore a fresh, no fragrance deodorant, and that was perfect. Besides, this was about the car, even if I would enjoy Max’s company along the way.

  I ran my fingers through my unruly blonde waves, and rejoined Max. “Sorry about that. Let’s go.”

  In the driveway, I said, “Where did you find this?”

  “I should tell you the truth, it’s not really for sale.” Max ran his fingers along the fender. “She’s mine.”

  I’m pretty sure my skin turned green. I had wrecked the only thing in the world that connected me to James Dean, and Max had the only other car I’d ever want that James Dean had owned. “Before James Dean bought the Spyder, he raced a Sport Speedster,” I said.

  Max got in the driver’s seat and grinned. “I know.” He patted the passenger seat. “Get in.”

  What was with this guy? Had he found my personal journal? Not that I had one. I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. This wasn’t as comfortable as my Spyder, and I didn’t think I wanted to own one. I just wanted to sit in it, and be with a part of Dean’s history again.

  “You a James Dean fan?” I had to know.

  “Not as much as I’m a fan of the history of California racing,” he admitted, with a shy grin.

  A bit disappointed, I asked, “Ever done any racing yourself?”

  “Only vintage cars at Laguna Seca once. My job has its downsides, and schedule and traveling is one of them. But being around the most expensive cars in the world is a perk. Sometimes I’m even able to purchase one or two.” He put the Porsche in gear, and backed out of the driveway.

  Since the top was down on the Porsche, it was too loud and windy to talk much, so I didn’t even ask where we were headed. I just let him drive. I’m not stupid; I’d checked the man out. I still have my contacts. Max Daniels had an impeccable history with the FBI.

  Yes, I can hack into the FBI files, but only because I have clearance. Please, don’t ask, because I can’t tell you anyway.

  Max was a former Navy Seal, so we had that military branch in common, too. It only got better from there. He’d been with military intelligence, and had the same training I had. He moved into civilian life, if you want to call the FBI civilian, which it isn’t, and worked intelligence for them until he branched out into import export. He’d been with the auto theft operation for two years. How I happened upon him was luck. Kismet? I almost don’t care, unless, my car had something to do with it.

  I’d been overthinking it all day, and I realized there was no way it wasn’t just coincidence that we met. Right? Still overthinking it. I’d have to run this one past Nick later. Especially after Max arrived at the house in the Super Speedster

  Thirty minutes later, Max stopped the car in front of a huge red barn in the middle of a field of brown grass. He’d driven maybe five miles per hour on the gravel leading to the barn after we turned off the main road. I’d paid close attention to the drive, and he wasn’t trying to hide where we were. It was an old abandoned farm house in Carmel Valley.

  Once he put the car in park, he said, “I’m curious, how does a guy like you afford that Spyder to begin with?”

  I leaned my head back on the car seat and looked up at the sky. “You did a thorough background check on me, so I’m pretty sure you know how I got the car.”

  “But I want to hear it from you.” I could feel him staring at me, and I didn’t want to look at him.

  “I don’t discuss my history with strangers.” Or people I know, for that fact.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you something about me.” He leaned back in his seat now.

  “Like what, that you were bullied in school, because you were different, even though you were good looking, and the girls liked you? That you were the class clown, because it made you popular, but still, the guys knew something wasn’t right, so they did things to you in the locker room?” I heard him stop breathing.

  “My favorite movie is Gone with the Wind. I loved Ashley Wilkes,” he said.

  I laughed. “Mine is…”

  “Rebel Without a Cause?” He looked at me and I stopped looking at the sky to look back at him.

  “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”

  We both laughed.

  “Come one, I want to show you something.” We got out of the car.

  We walked over to the red barn, and he picked up the huge lock on the double doors. I didn’t look away as he input the combination. I memorized it, just in case. I mean he could be a crazy person who was going to lock me in the barn, and if I could get in touch with someone, I’d need that combination.

  Once he had the lock open, he pulled the chain off the doors, and lifted the latch. When he swung the doors open, I wished I was anywhere but there.

  “Pick one,” Max said, spreading his arms wide.

  “What the hell is this?” My stomach lurched.

  I’ve done things in my life I’m not proud of, and I’ve done things I’m proud of, but can’t share. But I’ve never screwed over my employers or my country. This was looking like a huge screw job, in which I’d just been made a pawn. In front of me were about a dozen extremely rare classic cars. About half were imported, the other half were American made cars, and all were priced in the half-million dollar and up range.

  “It’s a stash house, or barn, as the case may be.” Max sounded so proud. “These belong to no one, and no one will miss them.”

  I turned to Max. “And no one can legally drive them!”

  Max stepped into the barn and laughed. “Oh, Charles, do you think I’m a complete fool? You think I’d bring a nearly complete stranger out here to this barn and show him these cars if I’d stolen or poached them?” He wiped the dust off the windshield of a Maserati.“When the cars can’t be given back to the owners for whatever reason, they go up for auction. On rare occasions, the advertising for those auctions is, well, how should I put this? The advertising is…non-existent. When that happens, agents are able to purchase seized items at a fraction of the cost they’d normally go for.”

  My muscles relaxed a bit, but not completely. “So you have papers on all of these cars?”

  Max’s smile was growing on me. “No, I don’t, but my dad does. You think I have this kind of money? Ha! I’m well paid, but not this well paid. This is my parents’ place. One of them, anyway. They have several ranches here in the valley, and they have a golf course up the way.”

  Daniels. Now the name rang a bell. “You’re Ernie Daniels’ son?”

  Max beamed proudly. “That’s me. And, no, I wasn’t bullied in school. I was class president, captain of the basketball team, and I was butt ugly. I had to grow into thes
e looks.”

  “Sorry about that. Projecting, I guess.” Not really, I had no idea where that came from. “Well, shit, if you’re Ernie’s son, you could afford to pay full price for these cars.”

  “You don’t know my dad very well. He’d never pay full price for anything. But everything is for sale. So, if you are interested in a car that’s legit and runs, but may need some work, pick a car. But the Super Speedster is mine, and not for sale.” We walked further into the barn.

  I was a bit overwhelmed by it all and couldn’t see the cars that well in the evening light, so I walked around and took in the sights, but didn’t offer up my opinions on any of them. There was a layer of dust covering the cars, and I was surprised his father hadn’t kept them covered with car covers, but the interior of the barn was much nicer than the exterior let on.

  The floors were cement, the walls had been finished, and looked to be insulated. I was about to suggest we come back sometime when the light was better, when Max flipped a switch and the barn became fully illuminated. And that’s when I saw it, a Spyder, a 1955 550 Porsche Spyder.

  “Are you joking? No way!” I ran across the barn. I didn’t care how much dust was on the car. I spread my arms and lay across the hood of that car and hugged it.

  “I thought you’d like it.” Max walked up slowly, as to not ruin my moment. “But I need to tell you something about this car.”

  There’s always something, isn’t there? I stood and wiped the dust off the front of me. “I don’t really want to know. If the car isn’t for sale, why did you even bring me here? To rip my heart out for the third time in a month? Because that would just about do it.”

  “The car is for sale. In my father’s world, everything is for sale, for a price. I’m not sure how you afforded your first one, because it was an original, but…”

  I interrupted, “You did your homework on me before you brought me here. And now that I know who your father is, you sure as hell know who my mother is, so you know exactly how I afforded my first Spyder. But, as I said, I don’t discuss my history, so if this is what it’s all about, you can just drive me back to Salinas.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Or I can call for a ride.”

  “Fine, I know more than I should. And I did snoop, only because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who owned a Spyder, other than the crooks I’ve been dealing with on this operation. I had to make sure you weren't a part of this import scam. When I did look you up, I was impressed. I don’t impress easily.” He looked at the ground.

  I looked at him. He had the ability to make me swoon and rage in the same breath. “Okay, let’s just move forward. How much for the car?”

  He quoted me a price, and I knew he was serious. I countered, and he countered back. I was pretty sure his dad had given him the go ahead for the business deal, and the absolute lowest price he’d take. I didn’t want to lowball him for the car, but it was a replica, not the real deal, so I wasn’t about to pay a king’s ransom. Once we got to a reasonable amount of money, we shook on the deal.

  “How do you want to pay for it?” Max asked.

  “Cashier’s check?” I offered. “Then I’ll come back, do the paperwork, and drive this baby home.”

  Max tossed me a set of keys.

  “What?”

  “I know where you live, and where you work. I know your family, and that you’re good for it. Let’s dust it off and take it for a spin. Then you can drive it home, and I’ll come by your place in the morning. We can have breakfast. Afterward, you can give me the check for my dad, and I’ll give you the pink slip.”

  Max walked into a small office in the back of the barn and came out with two polishing cloths. He tossed one to me.

  “I’ll work this side, you work that side, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

  He started at the back of the Spyder and gently brushed the dust from the car.

  As we worked, I alternately admired the immaculate metallic silver finish of the Spyder’sbody, and the rippling muscles of Max’s body, and when we met in the middle at the front of the car, we looked each other for a few seconds longer than was necessary.It didn’t feel uncomfortable.

  “Nice job,” I said.“This has been the best day I’ve had in a long time. Even if I did have to video a dead body after I left you this morning.”

  The smile dropped off Max’s face like a rock.“What the hell?”

  Well, now, wasn’t this an excuse for some interesting conversation to keep the evening going?

  Instead of driving the car home, Max and I met in Carmel for dinner and drinks. I was driving a Spyder again!

  Chapter 11

  MIMI

  “Do you think he knows?” Cortnie asked as we locked up the office for the night.

  “It’s hard to tell what he knows. He’s kept a lot from us. I mean, he didn’t even tell us that he owned Mojo before they did. His wife sold the damn horse to Pam in the first place.” I closed the drapes in the front of the building.

  “Uta said Jackie called here several times, wanting to know where her stuff was,” Cortnie said softly. “She had it boxed up, but didn’t know if she should do something with it.”

  “I’m not going to take it to her. I’ve had enough of her for one day.” I yanked a little too hard on one of the shades and nearly tore it off the window.

  “Here,” she said, “I’ll finish this. Sorry I brought it up.”

  “It’s okay. I’m so tired of being jerked around by everyone.” I flopped down on the couch and put my feet up.

  “At least all is well with Nick,” Cortnie offered. She wasn’t very tall, so she had to pull the ottoman over and stand on it to get the top shades. “Or so I thought.”

  I closed my eyes and smiled. “It’s all good there,” I said, “It’s the rest that’s so crazy. But having Charles back, and in working condition helps, too.”

  “No doubt.” Cortnie stopped. “I mean, I like working with you, but Charles is Charles, you know?”

  I knew, but I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “I remember you pulling the same crap not too long ago. Didn’t you tell Charles to fuck off back when we were working the decoy operation?”

  Cortnie waved her hand in front of her. “Oh, that. It was just a heat of the moment thing.” She tried to laugh it off. “And it’s a good thing I’m still here, because I’m your girl on this one. You know, the horses, rodeos, and all.”

  Like we couldn’t have done this without her. But I wasn’t in the mood to pick a fight, so I said, “You’ve been a big help. Speaking of which, what’s up with Emmet?”

  Cortnie sat on the end of the couch where I was laid out, “I’m pretty sure her daughter is Bucky’s kid. The only problem, Bucky would’ve still been married to Rayna when Emmet got pregnant.”

  “What information do you have?” I sat up.

  “Emmet’s daughter is twelve years old. She was born in April, so probably conceived around July. Rayna could have been on the road, or Bucky could have been. The beginning of July is Cowboy Christmas.” Cortnie started in on her vast knowledge of rodeo terms.

  “Explain that one to me.” I sat up on my elbows.

  “Over the July Fourth weekend, there’s a lot of money to be won at several rodeos, but a cowboy, or cowgirl, has to hit it hard, be entered in a lot of rodeos, and do a lot of traveling, to win that money. Not only do they have to be entered, they have to draw up right, and they have to have good runs, so they have good times, and make money in the go-rounds.”

  Yep, half of that was a foreign language, but I got the gist. “Enter lots of rodeos, which means lots of time on the road, perform well, win money.”

  “Right, and that can catapult a person into the top fifteen in money earnings if they have a good run over that time period. It can make or break a person.” Cortnie stood up and finished closing the top shades and pushed the ottoman back.

  “What does any of this have to do with Emmet’s kid?”

  “I’m just saying th
at if Rayna was away, the mouse will play. Maybe Rayna was traveling at different rodeos that year, or not traveling with Bucky as much. Maybe Bucky had an affair.” Cortnie sat on the arm of the sofa. “It’s been known to happen. I mean, I know more cowboys who have cheated on their wives than those who haven’t.”

  I was still on my elbows, and pushing my way to a sitting position. “Damn. That sucks.”

  “Way of life, I guess. Not all of them are like that, but enough. I’d bet my next year’s salary that Skinner and Bucky have both cheated on their wives on a regular basis over the years.”

  The thought made my skin crawl.

  “Do you think it’d be worth it to pay Emmet a visit?” I asked.

  Cortnie looked at me like I was crazy. “Do you think Nick would skin you alive?”

  “Why? I just want to know why she can’t bid on the horse.” So sue me if I wanted to know more.

  “There isn't even going to be a horse auction. I’d bet, oh, never mind. That horse will be going back to Pam’s place as soon as she realizes the terms of that contract.”

  Cortnie was right. There was no way Mojo was staying on the Cox ranch any longer than needed. Pam wouldn’t want to take a chance that something would happen to her horse. And he was her horse now.

  “So is this Nick’s place to tell Rayna, or should we?” I wondered aloud.

  “Oh, I definitely think it’s our job to tell them.” Cortnie gloated. “We did enough legwork on this to earn the privilege.”

  “I don’t know that we’ve done much of anything.” I jumped up. “But I really do want to go talk to Emmet.”

  Cortnie stood, too. “I’m in. Let’s look her up, and have a chat about her interest in Mojo. Then we can tell her the auction is most likely going to be cancelled, talk to her about Bucky, and find out about that daughter of hers.”

  “That will have to wait until tomorrow, ladies.”

  Cortnie jumped, and I screamed.

  “Damn you, Nick, don’t sneak up on us like that,” I said as I walked over to kiss him on the cheek. “You look exhausted.”

  “Thanks, you look good, too.” He frowned.