Father Figure (A Jaxon Jennings' Detective Mystery Thriller Series, Book 3)

by Richard C. Hale

“I can live with that. We can have a lot of fun in six months.”

  “Can you live with that?”

  “Sure. We just met.”

  She let his hand go and he watched a frown form on her lips.

  “We did, didn’t we?” She looked away and then back as if deciding something.

  “There’s a connection here, right?”

  He held her gaze. “Definitely.”

  “We go slow, though.”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  She smiled. “You want to go faster?”

  “As fast as we can,” he whispered.

  Her hair spread out over her shoulders as she shook her head, a mischievous grin on her face. She was shaking her head no, but said, “As fast as we can.”

  She stood and went to him.

  Pushing him away from the table, she squeezed between it and him and sat in his lap. He still had a fork full of eggs in his hand as she bent to kiss him. He dropped it and pulled her close, trying to press every curve of her body against his.

  The kiss grew more passionate and deep, and he beckoned her tongue into his mouth with his own. She felt great in his lap and he knew there would be no stopping them this time. He picked her up and took a step toward the living room.

  “Where?” He whispered.

  She pointed to the left and he carried her into the bedroom where he lay her down and caressed her face.

  “As fast as we can?” He asked again.

  “As fast as we can.”

  * * *

  Jaxon tried Ray’s phone again as he drove and hung up after getting his voice mail.

  It was Saturday, but Ray understood weekend work was sometimes a requirement. Jaxon had been hoping he could join him on the trip to Gainesville. Mary Beth’s ex-husband was there.

  He made good time on the back roads to the land of The Gators and was pulling up to the ex’s house after fifty minutes on the road.

  Jonathan Gunther lived in a small brick place up against a lake. He was a chemistry professor at the University of Florida where Mary Beth had been a student. He was ten years her senior. When he couldn’t give her the expensive things she demanded on a teacher’s salary, she grew weary of him and moved on. Jaxon was told he had not.

  He walked up to the door and knocked. A dog barked inside. He knocked again and moved to the garage, the dog continuing its protestations.

  Through the dirty windows, Jaxon could see an old Jeep. Gunther seemed to be home but not answering his door.

  Jaxon wandered around to the side of the house and made his way to the back chain-link fence and looked into the yard. Jonathan Gunther was lying with earphones on his head in a pool recliner reading a book.

  Jaxon lifted the lever and pushed the gate open. He hoped the dog was inside. He walked up to Gunther who looked up, startled. He went to stand, but Jaxon waved him back down.

  Pulling the earphones off, Gunther said, “Who are you?”

  Jaxon pulled a business card from his pocket.

  “Jaxon Jennings, PI. Can I ask you a few questions, Mr. Gunther?”

  Gunther looked at the card and then shielded his eyes as he stared up at Jaxon.

  “Depends on what.”

  “Mary Beth.”

  Gunther’s face changed and he sat back in the recliner.

  “Can’t help you.”

  He held out the card for Jaxon to take back.

  “The police will be talking with you soon enough. I thought you’d give me a leg up before they get here.”

  “Why would the police want to talk with me?”

  “Because you’re someone of interest in her murder.”

  The man’s face turned white and after a few seconds, his hand started to shake.

  “What did you say?” he whispered.

  “Mary Beth was murdered. You didn’t know this? It’s been in the news.”

  He shook his head in a daze. “I don’t watch the news.”

  His lip trembled and then he put his hands to his face and started to cry. Jaxon was embarrassed for him and stood there until the man could get it together.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Some think you, or even her husband, but he has a solid alibi.”

  “Me? I’d never do anything to hurt her. I can’t believe this.”

  “You do have a reputation as not accepting the break-up.”

  “I know I’ve been a pain, but I still love her. That asshole was never any good to her.”

  Gunther stood up and walked to the door.

  “I need a drink. You can come in if you want.”

  He didn’t wait for Jaxon and slid the back door open on noisy rollers, disappearing inside. Jaxon followed.

  The living room was cold from the AC and a little dachshund greeted him, wagging its tail and demanding some attention. Jaxon bent to pet him and it growled. Jaxon pulled his hand back.

  “Buxton, enough,” Gunther said and waved his hand. The little guy bounded off to another part of the house.

  Gunther pulled a large bottle of Jack Daniels from above the refrigerator and filled a glass with ice. He held it up to Jaxon and Jaxon shook his head.

  “I’m working.”

  Gunther shrugged and filled the glass with the amber liquid. He wasn’t fooling around.

  “Mr. Gunther, where were you three nights ago at around ten p.m.?”

  “I was here. That would be Tuesday, right?”

  “Yes. Anyone able to corroborate that for you?”

  Gunther took a big swallow of the drink.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, nobody was here with me.”

  “Think hard about it. The police will be asking the same question.”

  “Can you tell me what happened to her?”

  “She was shot. Along with her lover.”

  “Her lover?”

  This revelation seemed to affect him more than the news of her death.

  It was hard to tell if the guy was faking it or seriously distraught. The tears were real enough, but Jaxon knew a lot of murderers felt remorse over their actions. Easy enough to display in public if they were genuinely sorry. The only thing that didn’t fit right now was the fact there had been two gunmen and they acted like professionals. Still, Jaxon had to cover the bases. They could have been hired by Gunther.

  “Yeah. Her lover.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s privileged information at the moment.”

  “Are you working for the police?”

  “No.”

  “Who then?”

  “I can’t tell you. Client, investigator privilege.”

  Gunther had a sour look and took another large swallow. The glass was almost empty. He poured more into it as he spoke.

  “It’s not that asshole Rothstein, is it? If it is, he’s fucking with you. He probably did it.”

  “I told you, he has a solid alibi.”

  “Somebody vouching for him?”

  “Something like that.”

  “They’re lying.”

  He picked up his full glass and moved to the recliner in the family room. Jaxon followed but remained standing.

  “It’s pretty solid,” Jaxon said. “More than one person and some physical evidence. He wasn’t involved.”

  “Multiple liars and concocted evidence. Would you know the difference Mr. Jennings?”

  “I would. I was a cop for a long time before I retired. Detective.”

  “Well, Detective, you had better do some investigating into that family. They are a bunch of crooks and murderers.”

  “Pretty strong words from a university professor.”

  The man eyed him and took another swallow. The liquor seemed to be working on him already and if Jaxon had to guess, he was sure the man did not drink very often.

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “No. You wouldn’t be would you? Still, how do you know the family is bad?”

  “Because I was on the receiv
ing end of the anger that seethes right below the surface of all that money.”

  “What are you getting at?” Jaxon asked.

  “I was threatened. With my life.”

  “By…?”

  “The old man. William Rothstein.”

  “William Rothstein threatened your life.”

  “Not him directly.” He drank. “A couple of his thugs.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Couple months back. I was making a nuisance of myself, showing up uninvited where Ben Rothstein and Mary Beth were hanging out socially. I made a big stink in public about her being a whore and him stealing my wife. I’m not proud of it. I was just—distraught.”

  Jaxon remembered Ben telling him some of this, but only in passing and only as a way to explain that Jonathon Gunther was the pain in the ass ex-husband.

  “So William Rothstein hired some men to threaten you because you were drunk and obnoxious at a party? Seems pretty far-fetched to me.”

  “I broke into their house,” he said, staring at the floor. “I broke in and went to their bedroom. It was the middle of the night and I didn’t know what I was doing. They called the cops and I was arrested for trespassing but got off with a misdemeanor charge and a nice fine.”

  “Did you do anything to them?”

  “No. I don’t know what I thought I was accomplishing. I just wanted to scare them, I guess. Anyway, William Rothstein came to visit me at the university shortly after and interrupted my class. He had the Dean with him. He basically threatened my job if I didn’t leave his son and Mary Beth alone. The Dean backed him up and even went so far as to dock my pay and threaten my tenure over the arrest record.”

  “That’s not the end is it?”

  “No. I mouthed off at them both and told them to go to hell. She was my wife and Ben had stolen her from me. William Rothstein said nothing more. He stood and glared at me and then turned and left without another word. I thought that was the end of it.”

  “But he sent someone else to deliver a message.”

  Gunther nodded.

  “They came in the middle of the night and pulled me from my bed. The dog I had then was barking like crazy and the short one kicked him so hard he was killed. He just laughed at his limp body on the floor. They told me if I didn’t back off I’d end up like the dog. I was never to confront Mary Beth or Ben again, not even a phone call. I believed them.”

  “Why did you think William Rothstein had anything to do with it?”

  “Come on Mr. Jennings. You’re not an idiot. Who else could it be?”

  Gunther had a point, but maybe there was something he was leaving out.

  “What did the guys look like?”

  “Big one and a small one. That’s all I know. They kept the lights off and pinned me to the chair.”

  “Any accents or other remarkable features you can remember?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Did they do anything else to you?”

  He paused. “Yeah. They broke my fingers on my left hand. As a message. Then they showed me a picture of a guy.”

  “A picture?”

  He nodded slowly. “He was hanging from a chain. He was skinned alive.”

  Chapter 11

  Laurelyn lay curled up alongside Ray, her head resting on his chest.

  She made little circles with her finger around the gunshot scar immediately beneath his shoulder. He stroked her hair and enjoyed the warmth of her next to him. Somehow, it was different than Michelle and he was thankful for that.

  “How did this happen?” She asked.

  “We like each other.”

  She smiled against his skin. “No. This scar.”

  “Asshole shot me.”

  She looked up at him as if he were pulling her leg. When she saw he was serious, her fingers traced its outline again.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Last year.”

  “During the thing with Jaxon?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “My lung collapsed. I almost died.”

  She sat up, her chin in her hand, and stared at him.

  “I didn’t know this.”

  “I don’t talk about it much.”

  She looked intensely into his eyes and he felt as if she were staring into his soul.

  “It would’ve scared me too.”

  He stared at her, feeling embarrassed that she would guess that of him.

  It had scared the shit out of him and he wouldn’t wish that time on anyone. Two weeks in a hospital and three days on a ventilator were enough terror for anybody. He knew he had been lucky to survive, but he would never want to go through that ordeal again.

  He took her hand in his gently, stopping her from feeling the scar.

  “I know I’m supposed to be the big brave man and all. Stand up to the bad guy and take a bullet for his buddies, but it wasn’t like that. I knew that we were walking into something dangerous, but the shot came out of the blue and hit me like a truck. I never saw it coming. Woke up in the hospital with tubes all running out of me and Jaxon and Michelle standing over me looking scared. I’d never seen Jaxon scared. Not once in those three days of hell. He looked terrified.”

  “I’m sorry, Ray. It must have been painful.”

  “I never felt a bit of pain. Only terror. Panic from not being able to breathe. Panic that I would die in that place before I could tell everyone what I needed to say. Panic that I’d never get to eat pizza again.”

  He smiled and she smiled too.

  “I’m glad you can joke about it, now.”

  “It’s over. I don’t think about it that often. I have nightmares every now and then, though. Wake up in a sweat and I can’t breathe. Those are no fun.”

  “I bet.”

  “Do you have any scars?”

  “Not a one. I’m perfect.” She smiled up at him and batted her eyelashes.

  “I would agree with that. But being raised with brothers I would have thought you’d have some battle wounds.”

  “Ok. Just this one.” She pointed to a small white scar on her eyebrow, barely visible.

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I know. I was angry at my brother about it. He hit me in the head with a baseball bat.”

  “On purpose?”

  “It was an accident. We were hitting rocks and I got too close to him. I was six.”

  “Ouch.”

  “It knocked me out and he didn’t want me to tell my grandma. He tried to clean up all the blood in the bathroom but it wouldn’t stop. We had to tell her. She was so mad. I had seven stitches.”

  He brushed his thumb along it feeling the slightly raised skin. She closed her eyes.

  “I’ve never had anybody rub my scar before,” she said.

  “Does it turn you on?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Should it?”

  “I was getting worked up with you rubbing mine.”

  She wiggled against his side, getting even closer to him, her whole body warm and soft up against his side. He grew aroused and she noticed, smiling up at him.

  “Should we just stay here all day?” She whispered.

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  They made love, slower, and when it was over, lay next to each other, the sheen of sweat drying on their skin. She got up and walked to the bathroom and he watched her rear as she moved across the room. She was definitely worth watching. She turned her head to him as she sauntered away and smiled a sexy smile. She knew he was watching and what she was doing to him. He loved it.

  “You need to bring that back over here.”

  “I have to pee.”

  “Stop talking dirty.”

  She leaned out around the door and stuck her tongue out.

  The phone rang.

  “Can you get that?”

  Ray answered the phone not sure what to expect. It was Jaxon.

  “Thought I might find you there,”
he said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to ruin my day.”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  “Dammit, Jaxon.”

  He heard the toilet flush and she walked into the room pulling a robe around her. He shook his head and she smiled, letting it drop to the floor. She jumped on the bed and put her head in his lap looking up at him.

  Who is it? She mouthed.

  “It’s Jaxon.”

  She sat up. “How did he get my number?”

  “How did you get this number?” Ray asked.

  “Tate.”

  “He said Tate gave it to him.”

  “Shit,” she said. “Give me the phone.”

  He listened to one side of the conversation and felt self-conscious of his presence in her place.

  “Jaxon, you can’t tell anyone that Ray is here…No…Because…You wouldn’t understand how hard it is for a woman cop…I know your wife was FBI…Yes…Of course she would…Just do it for me, please…” She smiled at Ray and looked relieved. “Thanks Jaxon. You’re my new best friend…Ok…here’s Ray.” She blushed at something Jaxon said. “I’m not telling you that,” she said, looking up at Ray, a twinkle in her eye. She handed the phone to him.

  “Ok,” Ray said. “How are you about to destroy what was going to be a perfect day?”

  Jaxon told him.

  * * *

  Jaxon stepped from his car and walked to the door. It opened before he could knock and Laurelyn Hawks led the way out.

  “I’m going with you guys,” she said.

  “That’s not a good idea,” Jaxon said.

  “I tried to tell her,” Ray said, shrugging. “She’s pretty convincing.”

  “I bet.”

  “It’s my investigation and I need to see,” she said.

  She smiled and it surprised Jaxon. She was normally not very personable.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Jaxon said.

  She blushed. “So. A girl’s not allowed to have a good day?”

  Ray looked into the distance ignoring Jaxon’s stare.

  “What were all those other days?” Jaxon asked.

  She frowned then. “I’m coming with you.”

  Jaxon pointed to the brace. “Shouldn’t you be on bed rest or something?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s sprained,” Ray said.