ON The Rocks (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 3) (Redemption Thriller Series 15)

by John W. Mefford

“Sorry. I’m just a little off right now. But I’m able to talk, as long as I just move my lips and not my jaw.”

  “Should be fun when you get hungry and have to eat,” she said with a snicker.

  Just another hurdle in my life, I figured. “So, Billy didn’t do this,” I said, pointing at my jaw, “but I feel certain I’ve never met this goon before. He was hired to beat the crap out of me, maybe kill me if I said or did the wrong thing. I’m not sure. He just wants me to stay away from Rosie.”

  “So if it wasn’t Billy, then…” She turned the palms of her hands upward.

  “Earl. He’s got to be the one who hired this guy.”

  “So, you’re saying he found out that Rosie hired you?”

  “Not sure how, exactly. She got a new phone for communicating just with me. I guess husbands and wives have ways of figuring these things out.” I flipped a switch in my brain to immediately cut off any analogies to my relationship with Nicole. I slowly turned my head toward Brook. “If Earl did this to me, imagine what kind of threat he is to Rosie.”

  “So it goes back to her again,” she said, a hand to her chin.

  “I need to tell you what Nicole and I saw at the Driskill yesterday.”

  “You and Nicole? At a hotel? Damn, Oz. You’re a walking, talking soap opera.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  I gave her the low-down on the low-life, Earl, and his flavor of the month.

  “And you have pictures?”

  I nodded and somehow avoided a jolt of pain. “Showed them to Rosie last night.”

  “And then the next day, this hood shows up and cracks your jaw in two. Yep, I can see the connection. Earl Alvarado. Makes sense that he’s a possible suspect…the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. I’ll start to look into it.”

  “But we have to make sure Rosie is out of the house before you show up and question him.”

  She nodded and asked where my phone was.

  “Back pocket.” I tried to reach behind me, but it just didn’t work. I released an exhausted breath.

  “Let me.” Her hands kneaded my ass like she was prepping pizza. It was awkward. “Found it,” she announced. She searched for the pictures. “So, Rosie was right all along.”

  “Do you feel sorry for her now?”

  She looked at me. “I never said I didn’t. I just think she’s withholding evidence regarding Earl’s involvement in the Benson murder. She said as much, if you somehow might have forgotten.”

  I tried to roll my eyes, but that only made my head hurt worse.

  Her gaze fell back to the pictures on the phone. “This girl isn’t even half his age.”

  “Nicole said she’s twenty-three. Her name is Summer Davis. Daughter of some oil-and-gas magnate, Conroe Davis.”

  “Good information,” she said, although she scrunched her forehead. “I’m confused about what role Nicole played in all of this. I thought you’d been avoiding her. I mean, Mackenzie hasn’t even met her, right?”

  “I have been trying to avoid her. And no, Mackenzie hasn’t met her yet.”

  A moment of silence, and then she said, “And?”

  “I ran into Nicole at the Driskill. Her company was holding some corporate event there. We were just talking when I saw Earl and this Summer person go upstairs. Nicole kind of morphed into this undercover spy, and the next thing I knew we could hear Earl and Summer doing their thing in the room next door.”

  A slow nod. Then, Brook wagged her finger at me. “Wait. The two of you were in the hotel room next door to theirs?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I really didn’t want to go there.

  “For how long?”

  My defenses were at an all-time low. Transparent Oz was about to make a brief appearance. “We slept together, okay? It was a moment of weakness. I admit it. Go ahead, give me a hard time for making another stupid decision.”

  My eyes searched for a safe spot. They landed on the curtain.

  She touched my shin. “Hey, I didn’t mean to get you worked up. It’s your personal life. I’m just…I don’t know, worried about you a little.” She sounded sincere.

  “That makes two of us. But I’ll survive. Always do.” I paused a second. “My main concern is for Mackenzie. She’s confused…just like me, but for different reasons. And she’s just a kid. So, I know I’ve got to get my shit together. Self-discipline is step one.”

  “Any time you want to talk, just let me know. I’ve got a past, as you know. And it’s not pretty. I’m far from being perfect—let’s just say that much.”

  “Thanks, Brook. I appreciate the offer.” I was feeling antsy, and I started to push myself to a sitting position.

  I swayed, and Brook quickly grabbed my shoulder to steady me. She pushed the switch to move the head of the bed up, and I settled in.

  “Thanks.” I pressed my fingers into the corners of my eyes. “You were going to tell me about Billy’s financials?”

  She proceeded to tell me that Billy’s bank account had seen huge swings in the last couple of years. From nearly bankrupt to sums in the six-figure range. She said they detected those major shifts at least a dozen times in the last twenty-four months, although it had settled back down in the last six months.

  “Any idea where the money went?”

  “So far, all we know is that it went to an account of some unknown company based in Delaware. More to learn.”

  What this had to do with Rosie, I had no idea. It probably didn’t. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to see Billy suffer for being the dickwad he was.

  “What about his kid? Did you find out where—”

  “I knew that was next.” She looked toward the ceiling and pointed a finger in that direction. Was she about to break out in prayer? “Jared Dixon was born at Austin Memorial on October 5th just over two years ago.”

  “Okay…”

  She brought her gaze back down to meet mine. “And you want to know that why?”

  I was ready to share my apprehensions about Rosie and her story about Billy. I mean, deep down, I knew he was an ass. I could see him treating Rosie or any other woman like shit. But he had sounded awfully confident when he told me that Rosie had been to the hospital to visit his family after his son was born.

  Before I could respond, I heard a loud voice. I looked at Brook. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Your mom should be here any moment.”

  “That’s called bad news, Brook. Oh, damn. She’s going to ask a hundred questions and criticize me for my new career choice.” I dropped my head, feeling more than defeated.

  “Give her a break, Oz. She’s your mom. Maybe she’s just concerned about her son. I would be if I were her. Look at the crap you’ve gotten yourself into.” She patted my leg.

  I lifted my eyes just a bit and snuck a peek at Brook. Her face showed real concern. I didn’t realize she really cared that much. I knew we’d grown to be pretty good friends and all, but there was something else behind her eyes. I couldn’t make sense of it, though. Probably because of the steel-toed boot to the jaw.

  A second later, the curtain sprung open. It was mom and the woman in her life.

  I threw my head back, trying to cover my face with the sheets.

  22

  I’d accomplished one of two goals before I was wheeled out of Austin Memorial Hospital. First, and most important to my sanity, I’d narrowed the window of dealing with Mom and her histrionics to about fifteen minutes. Nurses and doctors had invaded my room, asking for privacy to quiz me about my current condition. I’d encouraged them, maybe too gleefully, and they waved Mom and her friend, Hilda, out the door. The doctor checked my pupils, my vitals, and then gave me countless warnings before releasing me. Saying I had to discuss an important case with Detective Pressler—which was at least in the neighborhood of the truth—I parted ways with Mom and Hilda, a feeling of relief washing through me.

  My second goal—which may have been a stretc
h goal considering my mental faculties weren’t firing on all cylinders—was to find out if Rosie had visited the Dixon family when son Jared was born more than two years earlier. I thought about asking my nurse if she could check their computer system, but I knew red flags would go up everywhere, and I wanted to spend no more time in that place than necessary. Brook drove me home and instructed an officer to follow in my Cadillac.

  “Thanks,” I said from my apartment parking lot just before I shut the car door. She reminded me that, by the next day she intended to make a visit to Earl’s place and suggested I find a way to get Rosie out of there before then.

  I pointed at my head. “I’m putting together the ultimate master plan as we speak. It will shock the world, starting with me.”

  “You’re funny when you’re hurt. You should be hurt more often.” She snorted and then covered her mouth. “Sorry. I know it’s not funny.”

  I started to shut the door, but Brook stopped me.

  “Hold on. If you text Rosie and the wrong person sees it, that could initiate another visit from your Mixed Martial Arts friend.”

  I looked above the top of the car at the row of trees lining the back parking lot of the complex. The rain had stopped, but a gusty northerly wind was bending the scraggly limbs. I knew I needed time to heal, to feel better about protecting not just myself, but my daughter too. I couldn’t put Mackenzie at risk.

  I bent over to peer back inside the car. “Any suggestions?” I would have bit into my cheek if I could bite anything at all. Not happening today.

  “I could either get approval for an officer to be here until we have things cleared up, preferably with Earl and even this goon in custody. Or…”

  I already didn’t want to know, but I asked anyway. “Or what?”

  “I could make the text to Rosie.”

  I grunted out a short laugh.

  “She knows me, Oz. She may not entirely trust the cops, for whatever reason, but she knows I’m trying to get to the truth.”

  Brook had a point. I just knew that once Rosie saw the text from Brook, a cop no less, she would automatically think that I’d ratted her out. Which, of course, I hadn’t because she’d given me nothing to tell Brook. But right now, Brook was using the assault on me to get to Earl. And once that door opened, I could see her kicking the door in until she was able to learn why he’d want Stuart Benson dead.

  “Okay. Text her, I guess.” I sounded like a kid being forced to go to bed early. “But you need to keep me in the loop. Deal?”

  She spit into her hand and extended it across the seat.

  “Funny,” I said, shutting the door.

  The apartment was quiet and cozy, which fit the bill for me at the moment. I asked Tito if he could pick up Mackenzie from school while I chilled on the couch. When the three of them got home—yes, there were two girls who busted into the apartment, not just my daughter—Tito had his sizable mitts over his ears. The girls went straight for Mackenzie’s bedroom without even a hello.

  I raised my eyebrows. “I guess Mackenzie has a new friend.”

  “I love kids,” Tito said, “but volume control apparently isn’t part of the fourth-grade world.”

  “You need one of these,” I said, pointing to my hearing aid. He ignored that and pointed to the goose egg on my chin. I gave him the Cliff’s Notes version of what had gone down.

  He shook his head. “Damn, Oz. A few weeks ago, you were looking for trouble. Now trouble has gone and found you.”

  The girls tore into the living room, yammering and giggling at the top of their lungs. I asked them to take it down a couple of notches. The noise stopped abruptly when Mackenzie saw the shiner on my chin. She didn’t ask for details; instead, in a much lower voice, she introduced Ariel, who was new to the school and also loved to draw and paint. And she lived three buildings down from ours.

  Small blessings.

  Tito asked if I needed anything before he took off.

  “I’m feeling much better. Thanks.” I got to my feet. My balance was good, and I didn’t feel dizzy.

  Tito left, and a while later, Ariel had to run home. She traded phone numbers with Mackenzie and said she’d have her dad call me to set up some time for them to play this weekend. With a smile on her face, Mackenzie started her homework.

  We debated what to do for dinner. She was hungry for fried chicken, and that was the last thing I could eat. I ordered takeout from a place down the street, who were masters at creating fresh-food options for people like me—people who didn’t really cook or care to learn.

  I drove all of five minutes, parked, and went inside. While I waited in line—I’d ordered linguine and zucchini for me, fried chicken for Mackenzie—I noticed the small dining area for those who wanted to eat in the restaurant, order some wine, and make it a romantic evening. A few couples were doing just that.

  And that led me to thoughts of Nicole. She and I had done that exact same thing countless times. Rosie, on the other hand? Given what I’d experienced last night, I wondered if she’d rather run to the restroom and mount me in one of the stalls. I laughed internally at my string of thoughts. But at the same time, I wondered if last night’s Rosie was some type of alternative personality, created solely to deal with all of the pain.

  “Hey, Oz. How’s it going?”

  I turned to see a familiar face, Tracy Rowlett, the crime reporter for the Austin American-Statesman. He was wearing his typical preppy clothes and sneakers. We’d met a month or so ago after I’d been nearly killed in a drive-by shooting. For being a member of the press—you know, nagging and insistent—he wasn’t a bad guy. He walked me over to his table to introduce me to his fiancée, Heather. She was all smiles when she said, “We just got engaged last week.” She proudly showed off her ring.

  I high-fived Tracy, who looked proud as a peacock. They couldn’t contain their euphoria, the natural high of first being engaged. You feel like you’re not just on cloud nine, but high above it, floating as if this state of mind will last an eternity. The partnership is sealed, and nothing can break it. You know deep down that you’re damn lucky to have crossed paths with your once-in-a-lifetime love comet. You know that most people slog along in life and never find that, never experience that deep, intimate friendship. Enduring, unshakable. You feel blessed and know it was fate that brought you together.

  Until it isn’t.

  I was offering congratulations when the inevitable happened. They both saw the enormous bruise on my chin. I made a wry joke about wrestling a bear for extra money, and they laughed and moved on to other topics. Soon, I learned that Heather had gone back to school to get her master’s in journalism.

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  She laughed. Tracy laughed. I tried not to laugh.

  “I hated my job, so I decided to do something that made a difference.”

  I asked what her previous job had been. “Hospital administration. Mostly bitchy colleagues, a few bitchy patients, and a lot of bitchy management.”

  “The perfect trifecta of bitchiness.”

  She giggled and added, “Could have been our employer, I suppose.”

  “Who was that?” I asked and glanced over to see if my order number was coming up. They were one number away. I turned back around, and she was sipping wine. I must have missed her response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” I said, pointing to my hearing aid.

  “Austin Memorial.”

  I grabbed a chair and made myself comfortable.

  23

  Just after midnight, Brook sent me a text saying she’d sent off the note to Rosie but had received no response. As a result, I didn’t sleep well. When morning came around, I was dragging more than just my one bad leg. I got Mackenzie off to school—she was actually looking forward to seeing her friends, with Ariel at the top of the list. Then I started pacing, at least using my shuffle-and-scoot method. That got me nowhere. I really needed a workout to bring down my anxiety level, but my body wasn’t ready f
or that yet. I downed a fruit smoothie and decided to head into the office.

  Lights were on, and mechanics were hard at work. Or were they actually just looking around a lot, wiping their hands on soiled towels?

  I walked into my office and saw a small box sitting on my desk. I opened it and found the new business cards I’d created online. Gartner-Novak PI Services. I’d learned that Ray’s PI license was good for another month, so I had until then to make myself legal. And these new business cards were a first step in the transition. I knew I needed a website—Ray had no online presence—but, more than anything, I had to clean up this disaster in the office. I found Steve in his office and asked if he wanted to keep any of Ray’s old crap.

  “Burn it, for all I care,” he said, petting Hermit the stuffed cat.

  That was all I needed to hear.

  When I circled around the last car bay in the shop, heading toward my office, I saw a pair of legs. Someone was sitting in a chair, waiting for me. I stopped on a dime. One golden leg was crossed over the other, and I knew immediately they belonged to Rosie. How the hell had she slipped in here? I’d been gone only a matter of seconds. She was like a feline ninja.

  I could feel my palms start to sweat; my throat suddenly became parched. I hated what she did to me—the primal urges came out like I was a caveman—but, at the same time, part of me found it nearly impossible to resist. And not entirely for sexual reasons. I had real empathy for what she’d experienced. I, more than most, had come to learn that choosing a mate wasn’t like buying a car. Bluetooth capability—check. Leather seats—check. Sometimes lightning strikes, regardless of how much reasoning and logic you apply.

  Man, I needed a cold shower.

  Or you simply need to grow a spine and shake out of this little-boy crush thing?

  I took in a deep breath and walked inside. Her one leg was kicking furiously, but I made sure to steer clear.

  Always thinking, Oz.

  I squeezed between two stacks of Ray’s magazines and newspapers and eased into my chair. Our eyes connected. She was wearing a black dress, something you might see at a wake, but this one hugged all the right places. Her neck scoop was enough to draw my eye. This was the Rosie from last night. Perhaps she was still carrying that new personality. The one that scared me. The one that drew me in.