She nodded, writing up the ticket, then turning to a coffee pot and pouring a cup. When she placed it as well as a container of cream in front of me, she met my gaze and gave a weak smile.
Tiny lines circled her eyes. They were sad, like they'd seen too much heartache. Her name tag confirmed she was Brady's girlfriend.
"Food should be up soon," she said. "I wouldn't drink too much on an empty stomach." She nodded to my cup.
"Thanks." I stirred my usual amount of sugar and cream into my cup, but when the color hadn't lightened much, I realized she wasn't kidding. "Listen, Jillian, right?" I asked gesturing to her nametag.
She nodded again.
"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute."
She frowned at me. "Do I know you?"
I shook my head. "But your boyfriend knows my father."
Her jaw clenched. I couldn't tell if she and Brady were having couple issues (and who could blame them at a time like this) or if she too was going to demand I leave.
"I can't discuss the trial." She started to turn.
"This isn't about that. Please help me."
Maybe she felt sorry for me or maybe she identified with the desperation in my voice, because she faced me, cocking her head skeptically. "Help with what?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm simply looking for a connection between Jack and my dad, Derek Bond." I carefully watched her expression.
She didn't flinch or make the same indication Brady had that she recognized Derek's name. Which didn't really surprise me. Even though the info I'd dug up online said she and Jack had, indeed, been dating three years ago when Derek was shot, I hadn't assumed Brady told his girlfriend about his ill deeds.
"What kind of connection?" she asked, wrinkling her tiny nose, looking confused.
I didn't want to risk losing her help, so I spoke fast. "Anything. I already saw Brady, but he's not in the mood for company."
Her chest heaved, as if releasing a long held breath.
"Jillian, order," shouted a man's voice from the kitchen.
I glanced up and watched a stocky guy place three plates on the steel counter that separated the front and back of the restaurant.
"One sec," she whispered and loaded the plates onto a tray.
I sipped the diesel in my cup and grimaced. That was foul and should be illegal.
I watched Jillian approach the table with the three men and distribute the plates. One of them gestured to her breasts and made a joke I couldn't hear, but it sent his pals chuckling again.
Jillian frowned but didn't say a word. She just pulled a bottle of ketchup from her pocket, set it on the table, and walked off, her saddle shoes clicking along the checkerboard floor.
No wonder she looked…defeated. Working around pigs sucked.
When she returned, I said, "You don't have to put up with that."
She shrugged. "I do if I want to pay rent."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me by leaning her elbows on the counter and lowering her voice. "Look, I worked as an assistant to the CEO of a dot com company two years ago. They folded, and I was unemployed. In the thirteen months it took me to get hired here, I lost my home, had to move in with my never-getting-married boyfriend, and now I always smell like burgers. So if some jerk wants to talk about my tits, I'm not complaining as long as he tips well. And those guys are twenty percenters."
I felt myself smile and nodded my understanding. Who was I to judge? Not only had I experienced my share of touchy-feely guys as a model, but in a couple of hours I'd be dancing amongst those in their birthday suits at the "Bare Boogie".
"So why are you looking for a connection between Jack and your father?" she asked.
"It involves an old case. I'm a private investigator," I explained, keeping it purposely vague. "Jack may be able to help me clear some things up."
"And your father can't help 'clear things up?'" she asked, that skepticism creeping into her voice again.
"He, um…has a heart condition. The memories are a bit rusty." A half truth. "Plus he's a stubborn old goat." The full truth.
She smiled. "He sounds a lot like Jack."
"Do you know if they knew each other?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "I could ask Jack."
"Yeah? That would be great."
"But don't get your hopes up," she warned me. "Jack talks about what he wants to when he wants to. And usually that's not much with me lately." She frowned, her mind clearly going to the upcoming trial.
"When are you working next?" I asked.
"Morning shift Monday through Friday. Today was a double. I'll be here tomorrow morning." She grabbed a rag and began absently wiping down the counter.
She wasn't going to be at the trial and show her support to the jury? I must've looked surprised because she shrugged.
"He doesn't want me there. Says it's best if I don't get involved."
She grabbed a napkin and turned her back to me, her movements suggesting she was dabbing at tears.
What a turd. Not only was Brady a dirty cop, he was a heartbreaker, too.
Jillian took a moment to compose herself. Brenda grabbed my cheeseburger from the back, delivering it as I watched Jillian take off for the ladies' room.
Half a burger and a handful of very greasy fries later, she reemerged but averted her eyes from me. Whether she was hiding something or just ashamed at becoming emotional over a loser like Brady, I couldn't tell. But she didn't come back to the counter.
I finished my meal and put a twenty and my business card down next to my plate before leaving.
As I walked to the door, Mr. Tits-Jokes beckoned Jillian over again, and tips or no tips, I felt distinctly sorry for the woman.
CHAPTER FIVE
Half an hour later, I was back at the office and running late to meet Caleigh and Sam. I quickly changed back into my cover-up that covered almost nothing up, and grabbed my purse just as Danny texted me that he was outside. I locked up the office and rode the elevator down to the ground floor, praying I didn't meet anyone else on my way out. Luckily, the building's lobby was empty, and I had a clean getaway to Danny's waiting surveillance van. I climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door shut. The second I was seated, my eyes immediately went to his attire. He wore a pair of black Speedos. And nothing else.
I swallowed hard.
"Wow."
While Danny had seen me nearly naked on several photo shoots when I was younger, I realized that I'd never seen him in anything but board shorts or jeans. I had to admit, the sight was not altogether unpleasant. I struggled to bring my eyes up to meet his.
Which were grinning with undisguised enjoyment.
"Was that a 'wow' I just got?"
I cleared my throat, feeling my eyes stray south again. "Maybe."
"Are you checking out my package, Bond?" Danny asked, the hint of a smile in his voice.
I forced my eyes up again, my cheeks going hot. "Just a little."
"Like what you see?" he teased.
I shrugged. "I've seen worse."
"Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet," he told me, the corners of his mouth crinkling upward in a grin that was positively wicked.
It was the "yet" that got me. I felt the heat in my cheeks traveling south toward the region of my lacey thong. I sniffed, trying to feign disinterest. And doing a crap job of it, I might add. "I'm surprised you aren't going all the way, Danny. I didn't peg you as shy."
Danny winked at me. "The night is young, babe."
Oh, boy.
I took a few deep breaths, telling myself that I had no interest whatsoever in Danny's innuendoes, as I let him man the radio. He fiddled with the dial as we merged onto the freeway, finally settling on an oldies station that was playing The Temptations.
I let my mind wander over Brady and Jillian as I watched billboards and graffiti laden overpasses whip past the window. I had to wonder what had attracted her to the guy in the first place. Was it the power? She go for the bad boy
type? I wondered exactly how much she knew about what Brady had been into. From the news stories I'd read, he was being accused of everything from beating confessions out of suspects to taking bribes for favors. Which made me wonder what the hell he had to do with Derek. While Derek's moral compass was slightly off point, I'd never known him to actually harm anyone. Skirt the law at times in pursuit of a mark, yes. But not the caliber of stuff that Brady was accused of. So why would Brady shoot Derek? Or was there even a connection there beyond the gun?
"Earth to Jamie."
I started in my seat, turning to face Danny. "What?"
He frowned at me under his sandy brows. "Wow, you really have tuning me out down to a science, huh?"
I shot him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. A lot on my mind. What were you saying?"
"I was just asking how much farther this place is."
I glanced out the window to get my bearings. The billboards had given way to pine trees and jagged rocks. "A couple more miles. It's on the right."
Danny nodded. "So what's on that mind of yours?" he asked, eyes cutting sideways to me.
I shrugged him off. "Nothing. Stuff," I answered, realizing how lame that sounded as soon as it left my mouth.
"Uh-huh."
A Four Tops song popped on the radio, and I took the opportunity to change the subject. "Exactly how old are you?" I teased, gesturing to the radio.
Danny shook his head at me. "This is a classic, Bond. It's timeless."
"It's old."
"What do you want to listen to? Got a Beiber CD in your purse?" he shot back.
"The very fact that you used the term 'CD' just proved my point."
Danny shot me a look, then turned up the volume on his oldies fest.
I grinned, glad he'd dropped it. An interrogation was the last thing I wanted, especially considering what the rest of the night held.
Naked boogying.
I shuddered. Somehow I almost preferred the thoughts of murder trials, gun shots, and dirty cops. I had a bad feeling I was going to see things tonight that would scar my mind for life.
Fifteen minutes later we were knocking on the door to Sam and Caleigh's room.
"Everyone decent?" I called. "Danny's with me."
Caleigh cracked the door. "Is he in the buff?" she asked, peering over my shoulder.
I opened the door all the way and headed inside. "Not yet, but the night is young," I said, repeating his threat. I caught him grinning behind me as I flopped onto the scratchy, tweed sofa, clutching the hem of my cover-up, careful not to expose any of my girly parts. "How'd this afternoon go?" I asked.
Sam sat at the dinette and attached a hidden video camera decoyed as a round, shiny yellow smiley face pinned to her collar. It was bright and hideous, but cute at the same time. "Caleigh's been brushing up against Martin all day with no luck."
"I'll get him tonight though. I can feel it," Caleigh said, adding her choice of surveillance equipment around her neck—a gaudy red pendant on a gold chain. Inside the fake red stone sat a camera that took sixty high res photos per minute. The downside was that it only had four gigabytes of space, so she'd have to work him fast.
Danny handed me the last gadget on the table. A silver bobby pin with a large purple flower disguising the camera.
"For you, my dear," he said, brushing my hair behind my ear and pinning the camera there. It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn his hand lingered a second longer than it needed to.
I cleared my throat. "Are we ready?" I asked, taking a conscious step away from Danny.
"Just a sec," Caleigh said, pulling out a tube of candy apple red lipstick.
I sat on the bed as I watched her apply it in the bathroom mirror, then add blush and an extra swipe of mascara. I jiggled my knee up and down with nervous anticipation.
Suddenly I felt a warm hand on it.
My eyes shot to my right. Danny was staring at my knee, his large hand holding it still.
"You okay, James?" he asked, his voice low.
I cleared my throat again. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"
He shrugged. "You just seem a little . . . off tonight."
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm just . . . not looking forward to the dance." Which was the truth even if it wasn't what had me on edge.
"Don't worry," he reassured me, that familiar teasing note creeping into his voice. "You're not that bad of a dancer."
I turned on him. "Hey, I'm a great dancer."
Danny pursed his lips. "Really? Define great?"
"I'll remind you of that club in Rio. We danced until daylight, and not once did I step on your feet. You, however, bruised my pinky toe."
He shook his head, his expression serious. "Nope. I refuse to believe that. It had to be the other way around."
I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But before I could insist, Caleigh tossed her lipstick in a little handbag and turned to the room at large. "Let's do this," she said.
Danny jumped up and grabbed her arm. "Lead me to the naked ladies."
We headed out and walked down to the main building where silver and gold helium balloons were tied to the wrought-iron railings flanking the front doors. Inside more balloons and matching streamers decorated the lobby and followed us into a white-walled, gym style room, complete with hanging, twirling disco ball lights and a DJ area.
So far, we were the only people there.
We made our way to a table with a punch bowl, a raw veggie plate with dip and an assortment of chips.
"Does anyone else get the feeling we're in junior high?" Sam whispered.
Danny picked up a broccoli stalk. "This is not what you want a group of naked people digesting."
Voices traveled from the lobby. The first gathering of people arrived, and it wasn't long before we were surrounded by nakedness. All of them, including the DJ. I wasn't usually a prude, yet I couldn't shake the weirdness.
Caleigh sauntered over to Martin, who was speaking to a man with rich brown hair on his head and gray everywhere else. Martin acknowledged her with a smile and allowed her to press against his side, but he didn't stop talking to Mr. Two-Tone.
"This is…um, interesting." Danny scanned the crowd.
I followed his gaze to a couple of women talking by the door. They appeared to be in their early forties and mothers. I patted him on the shoulder. "Stretch marks can be sexy. And right about now, I'll say, I-told-you-so."
Danny smirked. "Hey, I'm not above a cougar or two."
I looked back to the moms. If I had to guess, I'd say the only cougars they knew were the mascots of their kids' soccer teams. "Yeah, good luck with that," I told him.
Music began, a fast beat full of bass. Several couples moved into the center of the dance floor. They swayed, gyrated, and got funky, all without a care that some of their parts were jiggling and flopping. I averted my eyes and tried hard not to laugh.
Caleigh was dancing with Martin on the far side of the room. I couldn't make out if he was just being friendly or being friendly friendly. Sam danced by herself over at the DJ's table. She had a straight line to Martin, but couples kept blocking her view. Which meant I needed to get closer.
I grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him into the crowd. "Come on."
"Why, yes, I'd love to dance with you, Bond," he shouted over the music.
I angled us diagonally from Martin. As long as he and Caleigh didn't moonwalk across the room, I had the perfect shot for adulterous foreplay.
I moved to the beat, keeping Caleigh in sight. As one song blended into another, I felt myself getting lost in my thoughts about Derek and Brady again and praying Jillian would come through and give me the missing piece to the puzzle tomorrow. Even though I knew it was a long shot. Why would Brady suddenly confide in his girlfriend now if he hadn't in all these years? But long was the only kind of shot I had at the moment.
"You're doing it again."
I blinked and the room refocused. "Huh?"
Danny narrowed his eyes at me. "Where were you?
"
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, as if that could literally happen. "Thinking of a case."
"I thought this was your case."
I looked into his eyes. In the past, Danny would've been the first person I shared my troubles with, but this one felt too personal. Like it only existed for Derek and me, and no one else was allowed in on it.
"Yeah. This case. It doesn't look like Caleigh's making any headway."
He glanced over his shoulder. Caleigh and Martin were still dancing, still the same distance apart. "Give it time. She can work her magic."
The song ended and instead of another fast dance tune, a slow ballad came on. The kind you'd belt out while alone in your car, with the windows raised. Before I had a chance to step off to the side of the room, Danny grabbed my hands and pulled me closer.
Heat from his body seared through my thin cover-up, suddenly making me all too aware of how little we were wearing and how close together we were standing.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
Danny gave me a funny look. "It's called dancing, Bond. Why are you acting strange tonight?"
I wished I had an answer.
"We need to keep Martin in view," Danny added.
I glanced across the room. Martin was still on the floor, though I noticed he had Caleigh at an arm's length now.
Right. I swallowed, ignoring the pressure of Danny's torso against mine. We were manning the camera. That's it.
Danny held one of my hands level with his chest and slid his other arm around my waist, cupping the small of my back as he swayed me to the right, making sure my hairpiece was aimed at Martin. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, telling myself not to inhale the scents of warm aftershave and strong soap wafting toward me.
"You were so young." His voice was husky, his breath ruffling the top of my hair.
I pulled back, looking him in the eye. "What are you talking about?"
"The dance in Rio."
"You do remember."
A smile tugged the corners of his mouth up. "Of course. It's one of my best memories of us."
The way he said the word "us" stirred something in my belly. Not the way my best friend would talk about a party we crashed together. More the way a lover would remember a stolen night in a faraway place.
Secret Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries) Page 4
