Bad Vice: Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery #5 (Gotcha Detective Agency Mysteries)

by Jamie Lee Scott

Mimi’s bubble didn’t deflate. “Now it’s legit. Wilma giving us the key means we aren’t breaking and entering.”

  I had to concede, but I didn’t have to let her know I did.

  “We’re going to the police station.” I drove away from wicked Wilma’s house.

  Mimi pouted, “I don’t want to go back there.” She put the key in her pocket. “You can go get your car, go inside, do whatever you want to do, but I’m going home.”

  I looked at her for a moment. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t eager to dig into this case. “What? You aren’t going to go inside and tell Cortnie what happened to her decoy?”

  Mimi’s face turned sour. “Can’t you do it?”

  I closed my eyes a bit too long and nearly ran a red light. I slammed on the brakes and put my right hand out to protect Mimi from flying forward. “Oh, crap.”

  We came to a stop with the front tires over that white line that they're supposed to be behind. Behind us, tires screeched. Apparently, the asshole behind us was following too close. I checked to see that Mimi was plastered to her seat, looking at me with wide eyes.

  “Sorry about that.” I really was.

  “What the hell was that?” She grabbed my hand and removed it from her chest.

  Just the thought of where my hand had landed made my skin crawl. That was a part of Mimi I never wanted to feel again.

  “I’m tired. Frustrated. Weary. Should I go on?” Because I could go on and on, making excuses.

  The car behind us didn’t let up. He was still on our tail when I turned to City Hall. I pulled Mimi’s Land Rover into a parking space in front of the station and got out. When I did, the car that had nearly rear ended me stopped at the back bumper of the Land Rover, literally blocking us in.

  I’d had enough confrontation tonight, and I was about to shut the driver’s side door and head inside when the driver of the blocking car got out and yelled, “Hey, do you even have a license?”

  I spun on my heel, ready to shut the asshole up. When I looked up to see who it was, my lips clamped shut.

  He came out from around the front of his car. “Really, do you have a driver’s license? Because you drive like a twelve-year-old. You know how long I’ve been behind you?”

  I walked over to confront him. “I don’t care how long you’ve been behind me. You were way too close to begin with, and it would have served you right if you’d have hit my bumper back there.” I pointed to the intersection I’d nearly run through.

  Mimi got out of the passenger seat and came around to get into the driver’s side. She looked at me, then at the loud mouth. “Nick, will you please move your car, so I can go home?”

  “Want to see my license?” I started for my wallet.

  “No.” He walked up to me, not in any hurry to unblock Mimi’s car. “I need to talk to both of you.”

  Mimi stood with the driver’s side door open, her hand gripping the door handle. “Why? I’m tired, and I want to go home.”

  “You’re going home?” This seemed amusing to Nick for some reason. “Not somewhere else?”

  Mimi rolled her eyes. “Where else would I go?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Something tells me that I won’t be investigating this homicide alone.” Nick’s posture was stiff, not at all the familiar body language I liked to see.

  Mimi stepped forward. “I’m sure you won’t be investigating alone. Piper is probably better than you anyway.”

  I put up my finger and wagged it at Mimi. “Piper is no more.” I waited just long enough for the perplexed look to appear. “She’s on maternity leave, or family leave, whatever they call it these days. Nick is flying solo.” Under my breath I said, “In more ways than one.”

  Nick glared. “How would you know?”

  I looked him up and down. Sure, he looked good, but something was off. His hair didn’t look as naturally wavy. The skin under his heart melting gray eyes was sallow, and the five o’clock shadow non-existent. His movements were stiff, as if he’d been servicing himself for too long, and it wasn’t working all that well. In other words, he looked like he needed to get laid.

  “You have bags and dark circles under your eyes, because you work too much. Nothing to go home to? If that’s the case, you may want to look into some Preparation H. But be sure you get the kind from Canada with BioDyne, because the FDA fucked us over and the US kind doesn’t have BioDyne anymore.”

  Nick scrunched up his face. “What? I don’t have hemorrhoids.”

  “Not for your ass, for your face. It’s great for bags, dark circles, wrinkles…”

  Now Mimi was looking at me. “You should look into some too, Mimi.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  I ran my hands through my hair. “And get a haircut,” I said to Nick.

  Nick mimicked me. “I have an appointment next week.”

  Yeah, sure he did.

  “Are you going to move your car?” Mimi’s impatience oozed through her words.

  “I need to ask you two a favor.” He relaxed a bit.

  “Ask away,” I said.

  Mimi growled. I swear to you she growled, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

  “Give me twenty-four hours before you start snooping in my case.”

  He said the words so fast, there was a two second pause before my brain caught up. “As if we’d snoop in police business.”

  Mimi just flat out said, “No.”

  Nick pleaded his case. “I have a few leads, and I’m afraid if you go digging, you’ll alert one of my suspects, and he could run.”

  Mimi leaned in toward Nick. “Then tell us who it is, and we’ll avoid him until tomorrow night.”

  Nick folded his arms across his chest. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “You could if you wanted to,” I said. “But since you don’t want to, give me one good reason why we should stay out of this for another day.”

  Nick unfolded his arms and pointed his index finger. “One good reason. If you investigate before tomorrow night, and you scare off any witnesses, or God forbid, my main suspect, I’ll have both of you arrested for obstruction of justice.”

  Mimi blew out a raspberry, showing Nick just how much she believed him.

  Nick got in her face. “Try me!”

  Mimi pushed back. “Screw you.” Then she stepped back and got into her car. “Now move your car, or I’ll show you what the hell obstruction of justice looks like with the back end of my Land Rover.”

  Mimi slammed the car door and gunned the gas with the gears still in park. So mature.

  “Dude, if you want to get laid, this is totally not the way to get back in her good graces.”

  Nick didn’t even respond. He got in his car and drove off, parking the Crown Vic three parking spaces down. I stepped up on the curb and waited for him. Mimi peeled rubber as she backed out of her space and floored it, nearly clipping the Crown Vic’s back bumper as she sped away.

  Nick stood next to me and we watched the taillights of Mimi’s Rover as she drove down the next block.

  “She needs to get laid more than you do.” I tsk, tsked. “Too bad her date didn’t work out.”

  “Sounded like the date went fine. It was the after-date that went awry.”

  “I’m not sure dating is the right thing for that girl. She needs… oh, hell, I don’t know what she needs anymore. I always thought it was you.” I pointed my middle finger and put it in Nick’s face. “But no, you can’t be bothered with complicated. And Mimi’s situation was just too damned complicated for you.”

  Nick looked down at his Vans (which I think Mimi bought him). “She’s married.”

  At that moment, I came as close to ending my life as I’d ever had, and it wasn’t even going to benefit me. I slapped Nick up beside the head. Not figuratively, either. “What the hell is wrong with you man? Dominic is dead. Even the insurance company isn’t making Mimi wait any longer.”

  The fire in Nick’s eyes made me step back. What the hell was I thinking,
hitting him in the head?

  Then his eyes softened and he said, “Insurance company?”

  I let out the breath I’d apparently been holding. “Life insurance. They have a seven year policy. If no body is found, they make you wait seven years to collect the life insurance. They are no longer making Mimi wait.”

  “Really? Is it a lot of money? Will she be set, so she can stop worrying about money all the time?”

  Are you kidding me? “Nick! You are missing the point. Dominic is dead, D, E, A, D, dead. This makes Mimi a widow, not a wife.”

  Nick’s hollow eyes dimmed, then he said, “But she hates me now.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Are you really that clueless?”

  Nick stared at me.

  “She’s so in love with you still, it hurts. It kills her a little inside each time she sees you. She wants nothing more than she wants you, and it’s killing her.” I put my hand over my mouth. I’d said way too much.

  Nick turned and walked up the sidewalk to the station entrance.

  I followed.

  Before he opened the door, he said, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

  I slapped Nick on the back. “That’s why you have me, my dear.”

  We walked into the police station. Back to the real world, and the dreadful task at hand.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mimi

  I felt exhausted. The day had been stressful enough, worrying about how the date with Bruno would go. Would he like me? Would I say the wrong thing, like I always do? Did my outfit look okay, or did I look fat in it? The decoy sting operation was supposed to barely be a blip on my radar screen for the night. The plan was to help Cortnie introduce the sting operation to the new chief, then go on my date, maybe have a couple of drinks, and come home.

  Well, I was finally home, but as usual, nothing had gone as planned. I knew I should go to Lena’s apartment and do a thorough search before I went to bed, but all I wanted to do was take a shower and pass out.

  When I opened the front door, all thoughts of a shower or a nice warm bed flew out the window.

  The entire living room floor was covered in feathers, white downy feathers. In piles on top of the feathers were the expensive designer pillow covers that had once encased the fluffy feathers. The covers were shredded beyond repair. I looked past the floor and to the couch. If the cushions had been “killed” too, Lola was going to have to find a new home.

  Not even remotely sorry for what she’d done, she stood in the doorway to the kitchen, ears flat against her head. She was pissed off.

  “Yeah, well, we don’t always get our way.” I kicked at the feathers as I walked into the living room and shut the front door behind me. “Tell you what, you can sleep outside tonight.”

  I strolled casually toward the kitchen, planning to grab her by the collar and escort her out the back. As soon as I reached down, she darted into the living room, bounced around in the feathers, getting a few stuck to her wet nose, then she flopped down and rolled in them. I walked back into the room to grab her, and she let me get within inches of her collar before bolting. Feathers churned in the air like stirred up dust.

  “Lola,” I scolded, tired of the “I’m not mad at you” game. She knew the voice, and apparently she knew the fake voice, too.

  Lola slid across the floor in the kitchen, all legs splayed as if she was doing the splits, then slammed into the wall next to the doggy door. She looked back at me, then shoved her head through the dog flap and just like that, she was gone.

  I rushed over and slid the solid cover over the flap and locked Lola out of the house.

  The only funny thing about this incident was that Lola flatly refused to use that doggy door. She’d never even poked her head through the plastic, except when I was trying to train her to use it, and she played along. She knew it was there, knew what it was for, and also knew that it worked both ways. She’d go out and come back in, but only if I stood there coaxing her with a dog treat of some kind. If not, she’d stand at the back door and whine until I let her out, then sit on the porch and howl until I let her back in.

  I clicked the metal snap in place, and Lola would not be able to come back in until I let her in.

  No sooner had I gone back into the living room when I heard the howling. The pitch of Lola’s howls could shatter crystal. I had to ignore her. She’d shredded my good pillows. I stopped at the edge of the room, turned around, and went to my bedroom.

  I had been on a roll lately and had been making my bed before I left the house every day. This was a chore for me, as I hated making my bed for some unknown reason. To give myself incentive to make it, I’d purchased all new lavender colored sheets, and a goose down duvet with several different covers, each in a different color. I’d wanted something to go with the lavender sheets, so I bought a matching cover, along with aqua and chocolate brown. My favorite color combinations all paired up with chocolate brown.

  I’d even painted my bedroom walls. Since I’d been spending a lot of time in that room the last few months, I wanted it fresh and new, with no old memories. Walking into the room, the accent wall at the head of my bed was painted my favorite brown, with the other walls painted a color called “sterling” that was more of a very pale purple than silver. The bed linens had been purchased while I had the paint chips with me. I wanted it all to come together and give a feeling of calm, which was all too rare in my life lately. I bought the gamut: decorative pillows, bolsters, king sized pillows, body pillows (that matched the décor), and of course the duvet.

  When I’d left that morning, the pillows, and bolsters had been artfully arranged on the bed, with the duvet folded back so the sheets were visible. And as I entered the room, the sheets were definitely visible, because they were the only thing still left on the bed.

  I’m going to admit something that I’ll deny if ever asked again. I screamed. At the top of my lungs, I screamed like a spoiled baby who wasn’t getting her way. Then I covered my face and started to cry.

  Before the first tear could leak from my eye, I got a grip. At least she hadn’t shredded anything in here. I could easily clean this up. In the morning, I’d call a cleaning service and have the house thoroughly cleaned. It was probably in need anyway, since it probably smelled like a dog, and I was the only one who couldn’t smell it.

  Like when you walk into the home of a cat owner, the first thing you smell is the litter box. I don’t care how often that box is cleaned, I can smell the litter box the moment the door opens if there is a cat living inside. So I just knew other people could smell the dog smell I was immune to.

  Lola’s incessant howling hadn’t relented, so I decided to drown out the sound with a nice hot shower. I needed to wash away the day. And then I’d leave again. I’d go to Lena’s apartment and check things out. We had her mother’s permission.

  I didn’t even bother to pick up the bed linens and pillows off the floor. I walked by them and stripped my clothes off along the way, leaving my own trail in the bedroom as I trudged to the bathroom.

  Standing in my black lace bra and panties, I turned on the hot water. While I waited for the water to heat up, I pulled a towel from the cabinet and hung it over the shower door. I had my hand behind my back, unfastening my bra when I heard my phone ring.

  With my bra unhooked, and my boobs flopping loose, I went back into the bedroom and fished through my clothes for the ringing phone. I found it just as it went to voicemail. Looking at the caller I.D., I decided I was glad I missed the call. It was Bruno. Just seeing the number made me want a shower even more. But my curiosity got the better of me and before putting the phone down, I listened to the message he left.

  “Mimi, I really had a great time tonight. I’d love to see you again.” There was a long pause, and I thought maybe the message was finished, but he forgot to hang up, but then he said, “Oh, and I can explain about the police station fiasco. It was a case of mistaken identity. They thought I was someone else and arrested me. I was
hoping you’d stick around long enough for them to get it straightened out and we could laugh about it together.”

  How stupid did this guy think I was?

  “I really hope you’ll let me take you out to dinner again. I can tell you the whole funny story. I think we had great chemistry… anyway, I had a great time tonight. Please give me a call.”

  I pressed the button to delete the message. “Sorry, bud, it was my sting that got you busted. Now that would be a funny story to talk about over dinner.”

  I took the phone into the bathroom, in case Charles or Cortnie called. I placed it on the counter next to the sink, took off my bra, stepped out of my panties, and stepped into the steaming hot water of the shower, so I could wash my troubles, anger, and fear away.

  Instead of being soothing, the shower made my mind work overtime. I’d thought about how much we didn’t know about Lena, and all the stuff she’d left off her application for the decoy stint. I wanted to know more about her sister. The dead sister, she forgot to mention. Where did she say she was from? Minneapolis.

  I got out of the shower, toweled myself dry and wrapped the damp towel around my hair, slathered on some lotion that smelled like sweet peas, and pulled on some old gray sweat pants and a faded pink T-shirt. I didn’t even bother with a bra and underwear. I’d be settled in for the night after all. I pulled the towel off my head, shook out my hair, not bothering to brush it out, and threw the towel in the hamper. I shoved my cell phone in the right pocket of my sweats, which made that side hang down a little lower.

  I padded to the kitchen, put the coffee pot under the faucet and filled it with water. Right before I poured the water into the coffee maker, I changed my mind and went to the refrigerator and grabbed an opened bottle of chardonnay. I pulled the cork and poured the aromatic yellow liquid into a wine glass made for red wine. In other words, it was large, and I filled it full. I took a long swig as I walked to the kitchen table and opened my laptop.

  I’m here to tell you, Google is an investigator’s best friend. If it can’t get me the answers, it can usually at least get me looking in the right direction. I took another long sip of my wine and started typing.