The Detective

by Adrienne Giordano

  Great. Mad. How the hell had this become his fault? He moved to the island, where she’d already left skid marks on her way to the front door, and held his arms wide. For once, the elbow didn’t holler, but the gesture was useless since she couldn’t see him. Well, fine. His whole point of getting here early was to work alone. All she did was distract him. Between her looks and the way she smelled, his body responded to her. Couple that with her insistence that he rush through his investigation, and Alexis Vanderbilt snatched his energy. Just sucked him dry.

  The front door slammed and he shook his head, pondering whether or not to chase after her. Let her go. He’d get more done without her.

  Even if she smelled good.

  * * *

  LEXI TROMPED DOWN the Williamses’ walkway, sketch pad in hand, coat flapping and the wrath of a winter day descending on anyone fool enough to venture outside. Mere breathing brought the wind—frigid, bone-shattering wind—burning down her throat.

  “I need to be a snowbird,” she muttered.

  “Morning.”

  She halted a second before slamming into a man walking his Yorkie. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I see that.”

  The man wore a long wool coat over a suit. His close-cropped, graying hair gave him an edge of sophistication that topped off the whole “I have money” vibe. By the looks of him and the adorable dog, he was a neighbor. He held a mug in one hand, and the aroma of hazelnut reminded Lexi she hadn’t put anything into her system in nearly twelve hours. On the way home, she’d stop at the coffee shop and load up on caffeine and sugar. A chocolate croissant might do the trick. The man eyed her, then glanced back at the house. “Are you the real-estate agent?”

  On the surface, the question seemed harmless, but Lexi had worked with enough gossipmongers to know her words could storm this community. “No. Not the real-estate agent.”

  “Ah. The designer, then.” Mug in hand, he gestured down the block. “Phillips. We live two doors down. We heard Brenda hired someone to stage the house. It’s a rotten situation.”

  The gossip trail. How she despised it. “It is indeed.”

  But wait. He was a neighbor, presumably questioned by the police. Perhaps he saw or heard something that could help Brodey’s investigation along.

  And get her back on schedule.

  “Mr. Phillips, were you home the night Mr. Williams died?”

  The tiny Yorkie nudged the leash and Phillips took three steps closer to the tree. “I was. The police talked to my wife and me.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No. Didn’t hear anything, either. With the increased security, we’re usually aware of problems, but it was quiet that night. Perplexing.”

  Perplexing. Interesting word choice. And the cadence, so direct, pegged him as a lawyer or maybe an executive with a lot of authority.

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “Of course. When your work is complete, do you mind if my wife and I take a look? She wants to redo the kitchen.”

  Lexi smiled. Crabby and dressed like a coed but somehow she might gain a client from this. “That would be up to Mrs. Williams, but I’d be happy to ask her if you’d like.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

  Once tucked into her car, Lexi jotted Mr. Phillips’s address and a note to herself to ask Brenda about him. Maybe she’d even be nice and share her conversation with Brodey. Maybe. For now, she needed food and a shower before her appointment in Lincoln Park. A quasi-appointment. Her college roommate, thanks to her new job as an on-air anchor for a local cable news station, had finally taken the plunge and bought a house. If it could be called a house. Sucked from the clutches of foreclosure, the three-story monstrosity needed loads of work.

  Candace had recruited Lexi to help.

  Ninety minutes later, Lexi knocked on Candace’s front door, where the knocker promptly fell off in her hand.

  The door swung open. “Hi, doll.” Candace spotted the detached door knocker and plucked it from Lexi’s hand. “I forgot to warn you about that. I have a new one. I just don’t know how to install it.”

  “I can do it. Do you have a drill?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Lexi laughed. “About me installing it or the drill?”

  “The drill. You can do anything. Everyone knows that.”

  “I love when you suck up.”

  She swept her arm in a huge semicircle. “Welcome to paradise.”

  Lexi glanced around the foyer, where fist-size holes marred the walls. Someone had done a number on the place. “If this is paradise, I want out.”

  “I know. The old owners ripped every light fixture out. They even took the copper pipes. The place is an eyesore, but your very own Nate said it’s structurally sound. Don’t worry. All the mold has been removed.”

  Mold. Dear God. “Excellent.”

  “Thank you for squeezing me in.”

  “It’s fine. I’m working on another project that suddenly has a delay. A delay by way of a hunky detective.”

  Being a single and clock-ticking female, Candace pursed her lips. “Hunky detectives?”

  “One hunky detective. Not plural.”

  Candace rolled her bottom lip in disappointment and Lexi raised her hands. “Don’t stress. The way things are going, he and I don’t exactly agree, so he might be yours by default.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s the Williams project. Brodey is on short-term disability leave—elbow surgery—from the police department. He’s a homicide detective.”

  “Ew.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, his sister, Jenna, is a private investigator Mrs. Williams hired to look into her husband’s murder. Jenna recruited him to help. The man is bored and has thrown himself into this. At this moment, he’s coming up with all the reasons I can’t demolish the laundry room.”

  Candace folded her arms and leaned against a railing that looked barely stable enough to support its own weight, never mind hers. “And that’s killing your forty-five-day timeline.”

  “Yes. Thank you! The hunky detective doesn’t seem to understand that I need to get this house sold. I want that bonus. The bonus gets me my assistant, a solid seven hours of sleep every night and time to clean out my garage so I can make it an office. I’m ready to collapse.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t cleaned that mess out. Hire someone to do it, for God’s sake.”

  “No. There’s a ton of stuff in there from the old owner. There might be lost treasures I can use.”

  Candace waved her to the kitchen. “I have a fresh pot on. You need to decompress for a few minutes before we get into this.”

  That sounded heavenly. Decompression. With a pal. Realization hit that she’d spent the past months virtually ignoring her friends. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a bad friend.”

  “Honey, you’re helping me with this pit and not charging me. You’re a great friend.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’ve been busy and haven’t made time for the people I care about. That’s not right.”

  “So, you help sell the Williams place and hire an assistant. You’re fixing it. Don’t be hard on yourself because you’re ambitious. Now, back to more important matters. What’s up with this hunk? Has he discovered anything on the murder?”

  They entered the kitchen, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee taunted Lexi’s senses. The surprisingly clean maple cabinets glowed, but the peeling linoleum counters had to go. The cabinets could probably stay, but not the linoleum. Candace filled two mugs and set one down next to the cream and sugar so Lexi could destroy a perfect cup of black coffee. Her friends knew her so well.

  “He just started. Heck,
I’m even helping him. On the way out of the house this morning I met one of the neighbors walking his dog. He stopped me. Being nosy, I guess. Anyway, I asked him if he saw anything the night of the murder.”

  “And?”

  She dumped two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, poured milk in and took a gulp. “Nada. Of course, I don’t know what I expected. I just want this thing wrapped up so I can get to work.”

  Candace set her cup on the island and leaned on her elbows. “I’ve been following this story for work. It’s amazing that in such a tight community they have no leads. Someone had to have seen something.”

  “You’d think. Maybe talking to the police scares them.”

  “What does your hunky detective think?”

  “He thinks there’s evidence in the laundry room and won’t let me rip it up. We had a blowout about it this morning.”

  Candace tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in that determined-reporter way of hers. “You like this guy.”

  Unfortunately, yes. “You haven’t seen him. There’s plenty to like. Setting aside that whole pushy-alpha-male thing. Honestly, he’s a little annoying.”

  “And, yet, you like him. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, is a big step for you. You haven’t been interested in a man since—”

  Lexi’s arms shot up. “Whoa, girlfriend. I know exactly how long it’s been. We don’t need to discuss it.”

  Candace waved her off. “What are you doing about this blowout with the detective? Come on, Lex, I can tell you like this guy. It sounds like he’s just trying to do his job—even if it is a volunteer assignment.” She leaned in, gave Lexi a wicked smile. “How often do hunky detectives come into your life?”

  Not very often. In fact, there hadn’t been an onslaught of hunky men in her life at all lately. But the stubborn part of her didn’t want to give in and admit she was wrong.

  Coffee sloshed in her stomach, letting her know that maybe the chocolate croissant hadn’t settled so well. Since she’d walked out on Brodey, she’d felt like this. Nauseated. Uneasy. Off-kilter. And she hadn’t felt any of those things in a very long time.

  She shook her head. “I’m not wrong for wanting to do my job.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I think this is one of those situations where you’re both right and simply can’t agree. All I’m saying is maybe you need to look at it from his side, too.”

  Candace came around the island, dropped her arm over Lexi’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Honey, I think it’s time you let yourself like men again. And this detective sounds like he might be a great start.”

  Chapter Six

  By 3:00 p.m. Brodey made his second trip of the day to the Williams place. Bit by bit, more information streamed in from detectives who owed his old man favors. The latest was a detailed evidence list, including descriptions of a slug that had been pulled from the wall in the laundry room. Apparently, one shot missed its target. By now the wall would have been repaired, but he might as well satisfy his curiosity and have a look.

  Crime-scene photos would help. They’d show the blood spatter that often told the story of who was standing where when life got ugly.

  Biting wind ripped into him and he dipped his head lower, huddling into his jacket. Even with his hatred of winter coats, he wouldn’t tackle a three-block walk in these temps without one. So far today he’d managed four hours without the sling. After his blowout with Lexi that morning, he’d gone home and sacked out for two hours. Between sleep and the afternoon back in the sling, he was good to go again.

  At the corner of the Williamses’ block, he hooked a right and—hello—found his sister and one extremely hot blonde, otherwise known as Lexi, standing in front of a tree. What were they up to?

  Lexi handed a piece of paper to Jenna, who held it up to the tree, ramming it home with a staple gun. “Ladies,” he called, “what the hell are you doing?”

  After one last staple, they both turned. “Hey,” Jenna said. “What are you doing here?”

  Still approaching, he held up his suddenly ever-present file. “Dad got me an evidence list. Getting a look at the wall where they pulled a slug.”

  “Nice,” she said. “We’re almost done here and I’ll join you.”

  He stopped in front of the tree and studied the paper. The one with a photo of their vic and a phone number to call with information. Silently, he read off the number, but didn’t recognize it.

  “Brodey,” his sister said, “don’t even try it. It’s a good idea. And it certainly can’t hurt.”

  “You want to crack a cold case by posting flyers?”

  “Yes,” Lexi said. “She does.”

  Great. Now they were a team. “Lexi,” he said, “how’d you get involved in this?”

  “I was heading to the house to try out samples and spotted Jenna posting the flyers.” She grinned. “I’m the helper.”

  Jenna waved the staple gun at him. “And before you start in, I called Brenda this morning and talked to her about it. Her only concern was the kids seeing them, but since she doesn’t bring the kids here anymore she said it’s okay.”

  “And, frankly,” Lexi said, “this case is stalled. Someone around here must have seen something. Maybe the police accidentally missed something. Who knows?”

  Jenna went back to stapling. “You know people talk to me, Brodey. It’ll be fine.”

  No doubt they would talk to her. One thing about his baby sister, men saw her coming and a different part of their anatomy took over. She knew that. Had used it to her advantage many times, but this? This was insanity. “Jenna, why don’t you just write your number on a prison wall? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

  That got him an eye roll. “Relax, it’s a disposable phone. When we’re done, I’ll get rid of it. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to give me a little credit. Between my law-enforcement father and my US marshal boyfriend, I’ve learned a few things.”

  “Yeah, well, how about putting what you’ve learned to use and not setting yourself up to be attacked?”

  Jenna poked the staple gun at him. “You’re out of line.”

  Brodey flapped his hand at her. “Quit waving that thing around. I don’t like you two wandering around handing out flyers. Anyway, in this neighborhood there’s probably an ordinance prohibiting posting them.”

  “Got that covered, big brother. Brenda called the security people and cleared it.”

  “Right,” Lexi snarked. “One of their residents is dead. They want this solved as much as we do. Leave her alone. She knows what she’s doing.”

  Like his sister, Lexi had an answer for everything. His chances of coming out on top here were zip. A smart man knew when to run like hell, and his mama never accused him of being stupid. He’d try a different approach. The scary-as-hell one. “You two do whatever you want, but I’d appreciate it if you tried not to get killed.” He angled around them and headed for the house. “I’ll be inside. Call me if you need me.”

  A few seconds later, a solo Jenna ran up beside him, her heels clicking against the concrete. For probably the thousandth time, he marveled over how women ran in high-heeled boots. “Where’s Lexi?”

  “Back at her car grabbing carpet samples.”

  He stopped, shifted sideways and spotted her popping the trunk on a vehicle not half a block away.

  “Brodey, she’ll be fine. I have never met such a worrywart.”

  “It never hurts to be cautious.”

  “Cautious is one thing, paranoid is another.”

  “I’m not paranoid.” Yeah, I am. “Maybe I’m a little paranoid, but with what I do for a living, I think that’s normal.”

  Jenna snorted. “You’re funny.”

  Leaving him on the sidewalk, she dug out the key to the Williams home and unlocked the front door.
Once again, he glanced back, making sure Lexi was squared away. Still down the block, she shut her trunk, checked that it had latched and hefted a bag over her shoulder.

  That bag looked pretty damned heavy. He started back down the block toward her. “Sit tight. I’ll help you.”

  “I’ve got it!”

  Of course. He liked independent women, but could they accept some help every now and again? “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Four cars down she hesitated, stared down at the few samples in her hands. “Shoot. I forgot one in the car. I’ll meet you inside.”

  He stood for a minute, waiting. Another few minutes wouldn’t matter. Once she got back, they’d go inside together.

  “Brodey,” Jenna said from the open doorway, “she’s fine. Can we do this? Mr. Hennings called me an hour ago with a lead on a case that’s not pro bono, and I need to get moving on it.”

  For another few seconds, he watched Lexi head back to her car, pop the trunk and mess around in there. “You good?” he hollered.

  She slammed the trunk and held up her hand.

  “I’m going in,” Jenna said. “Hurry up and stop obsessing.”

  Ha. He’d never stop obsessing and she knew it. Doing what he did for a living, he saw things that horrified and shocked him on a daily basis. Maintaining his sanity meant locking up the bad guys and reducing the depravity.

  Lexi might be only half a block away, but a lot could happen in that half a block. Rape, abduction, wayward bullet. None of it would surprise him. He glanced up and down the block, saw nothing suspicious, then checked on Lexi finally making her way back to him. In another minute she’d be walking into the house. “Go inside!” she hollered. “I’m fine. I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay,” he muttered. She had only a short distance to go. Plus, his sister was in a rush and he didn’t want to hear her griping. He turned and marched up the steps. “Let’s see if we can find this bullet hole.”

  * * *

  LEXI HEFTED THE bag of carpet samples and hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything else because it was darned cold and her toes were blocks of ice. She beelined for the warmth of the house, determined to get this thing staged and sold by her deadline. Even if it destroyed her.