The Sweetheart Mystery

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  Ironic that Noah had headed that line and come back into her life by her initiation. You’d think she’d have learned something in all these years and steered clear of him, despite being desperate. And broke.

  Those days of romance disasters were over. The next time she gave her heart out, the guy would be worthy.

  “Yes, well, it wasn’t my finest moment, and an accident. I’d expected Eddie to duck.” He’d tripped over his pants around his ankles and only sustained a small bruise on his forehead while trying to save his guitar. He failed. “That’s all in the past. I’ve smartened up and moved forward.”

  Admiration showed in Noah’s eyes. “Good. I like that you’re tough. So let’s get back to the case. Time is wasting.”

  It was an offhanded compliment but she took it to heart. They’d both changed a lot over the years. Perhaps she should give him some credit, too.

  Just don’t fall in love, she told herself.

  * * * *

  Noah and Harper left Summer to solve the mystery of the missing killer on video and returned to the car, aka, their mobile office. His life had taken one hell of a down turn since being suspended. The only bright light stood beside him.

  “I’m starting to like this old piece of crap,” she said and ran her hand over the hood like a car show spokesmodel. “Maybe I’ll buy him when we’re finished.”

  Noah glanced at the dog chewed duct tape and lick prints on the glass. He said in mock horror, “Don’t even joke about that.”

  She was kidding him. Anyone who owned a vintage Mustang would never drive a beat up old wreck from the nineteen eighties. He was surprised it was still road worthy after over thirty years of taking a beating.

  Noah retrieved his laptop he’d brought after uploading all their case notes last night and opened her file.

  He liked to take written notes and having a hard copy for backup. He added the information about the security video, then quickly scanned what they had so far.

  The clues hadn’t gotten any more cohesive since the last time he looked. All he could do was keep adding clues. Eventually, they’d find something that would click and Harper would be free.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked, slowly.

  He didn’t look up as he rearranged a few things. “Shoot.”

  “Why did you leave the FBI?”

  Taken off guard, his hands froze on the keys and his head snapped up. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’ve been wondering about it since my cousin told me you’d left the bureau,” she admitted. “I heard you were asked to resign.”

  Damn. She was nosy. “Let it go, Harper.”

  Never one to stay out of his business, she rushed ahead. “I can’t. What if you’re called to testify at my trial and they take your character into consideration. Your history could make or break my case.”

  Shit, she’d only been an unofficial investigator for a few days and had learned about law and gathering clues like a pro. She’d probably spent half her nights Googling that stuff and the other half trying to flush out his skeletons.

  He ran his hands through his hair. There was no way to get out of this. The best he could do was hand her the sanitized version and get her off his back.

  “I need you to keep this to yourself,” he insisted. “I mean it, Harper. You can’t tell anyone.”

  She met his eyes. “I promise.”

  Eighteen-year-old Harper had kept his secrets. For some reason he knew he’d be able to trust her now.

  “Despite what the gossip chain says,” he began. “I’m not officially fired. I’ve been suspended until the conclusion of the investigation into my activities.”

  “What activities would those be?”

  Feeling raw and a bit claustrophobic, he put the laptop on the back seat. Spreading open his life with his knees practically up to his ears wasn’t happening.

  “I’m not having this conversion in this damn car.” He pushed open the door and got out. Harper joined him as he paced.

  “I worked an undercover corruption case for two years to take down a billionaire who was into all kinds of bad things, stuff that would give you nightmares. I won’t get into all the details, but let’s just say he had powerful friends and got away with everything short of murder.”

  “That’s not right.”

  There was so much more he wouldn’t burden her with. “When we finally had enough evidence, and we had a warrant, we went to his office to arrest him. During the takedown, he was shot.”

  “Did he die?”

  “He did not.” Noah pounded his fists on top of the car. “From his hospital bed, the bastard told my bosses that I’d shot him while he was on his knees.”

  She took a few seconds to process the information. “It should be easy enough to prove your innocence. They can test your gun for recent firing.”

  “If only things played out as easily as they do on TV.” He knew she liked to watch ID and considered herself an armchair detective. “He was shot with my gun. Not my service weapon but the one I kept in a lockbox at home.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yep, it was a setup.” Anger heated his gut. “Somehow the bastard must have suspected I was a Fed and saw a way to help his case. Someone close to him broke into my house and stole my gun, lockbox and all. Because I was with the FBI, all the evidence I uncovered during those two years is now suspect because I’m crooked. The gun had no prints on it but mine. Whoever shot him was on his orders.”

  “Oh, Noah.” She didn’t move from leaning against the car but he felt her support. “Isn’t there something you can do?”

  “There’s an ongoing investigation. Thankfully, my bosses and friends know it’s a shit case. Still, they need to clear me and that isn’t easy.” He closed the gap between them, needing to touch her. It felt good to have a confidant. Even his brother and mother didn’t know the details of the setup.

  He wanted to kiss her. “We’ll see how it plays out.”

  Filled with sympathy, she reached to cup his face. “I guess we’re sort of in the same boat. We’re both innocent but can’t clear the lies against us.”

  Huh. He hadn’t thought about their situations that way. He’d pushed his own case out of his mind and let the Feds get him out of the mess he’d been buried in. To think about Masterson only made him angry.

  Breaking her rule about personal contact, he slipped his arms around her. She didn’t offer any resistance. “When did you become so smart, Ms. Evans?”

  Her arms drifted around his neck. “I’ve always been smart, Mr. Slade, even in high school,” she assured him. “You just didn’t notice. You were too busy thinking about me in my cheerleader uniform and not my A in calculus.”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “You do have excellent legs.” He leaned to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She smelled like vanilla and fruit.

  A small sigh escaped her. She was all soft and sweet. “I was just thinking about something.”

  He nipped her skin. He was thinking about her, too, and his thoughts had nothing to do with killers and clues. “What’s that?”

  “I know a way to make us both feel better.”

  He knew a lot of ways she could help him de-stress. None of them involved wearing clothes. And since sex was out of the question, he kissed the small mole under her left ear and let that be enough. “Tell me.”

  “I think I’ll let you grab my butt,” she said in a wicked whisper. “Just this once.”

  Chapter 27

  Harper hummed when she got home, despite knowing she’d once again sent Noah mixed signals. In fact, she could still feel his hands on her butt. She liked the feeling. A lot.

  Did that make her a bad person?

  “What am I doing?” What naughty Harper did was let off steam. Good Harper just had to deal with the guilt for both of them. At the
moment, all she could think about was feeling good for a few minutes. How wrong could that be?

  “At least I didn’t rip off his pants and bring this attraction to a head,” she said. “So to speak.”

  Wandering to the kitchen for a cup of tea before the strip club adventure, she stopped inside the open doorway. The room looked off. She scanned her way around the room.

  “That’s interesting.” Hadn’t she left the teapot on the stove? Further searching found the pot in top of the refrigerator. “Strange.”

  She hadn’t had much sleep lately. Maybe she was losing her mind. That wasn’t far off. Stress and exhaustion could lead to walking around like a zombie. Not remembering where she put stuff was a reasonable side effect.

  Once the pot heated, she went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She also called her aunt for a check-in and found her at senior Bingo.

  Harper wasn’t worried she’d lose her condo and move in with her. Having lived through seventy-five snowy Michigan winters, Lila swore she’d never return unless the San Andreas Fault took Arizona along when California dropped off into the sea.

  “I won five bucks!” Lila said and filled her in on the happenings at the resort living community in Sun Valley, between stamping her bingo card. “What about you, honey? Anything new with you?”

  Harper tried to cut the conversation short before her occasionally forgetful aunt remembered Harper’s troubles and started fretting about the case.

  “Have you found a husband yet?” Lila asked. “I hear you might be knocking boots with Noah Slade again.”

  Big mouth Marty needed some of her leftover duct tape to repair his gossip leak. “We aren’t knocking anything.”

  “Bingo!” Lila yelled in her ear. She faded out for a bit, then came back. “Well, you should be. He’s a hunk. Bitsy Allen’s poodle Frenchie gets more action around the complex than you do. And Frenchie’s on a doggie dating app, too.”

  Good grief. She did not want to discuss the sex life of a dog. And what loony owners would take dogs to online dates anyway? What would the profile read? “Hi, my name is Frenchie. I like to chew fleas and hang around the local fire hydrant with friends?”

  “I should go.” She loved the woman who raised her after her parents died, but even love had limits. Noah was a closed topic. “Love you! Bye!”

  Noah rapped on the door and walked in as she finished rinsing her cup in the sink. “Ready?”

  “Let me get my bag.”

  He’d dressed in jeans and a worn black leather jacket. He had on boots and a button-up plum shirt. In her opinion, Deke Trotter, with his pretty boy looks, paled next to Noah. The former was sinful from his mussed hair to his toes. Noah was all bad boy with none of the soft and pretty edges.

  “You look good,” he said. His eyes lingered on her mouth.

  “Thanks.” She’d changed into black jeans and a red sweater. She slipped on a light jacket for the cool evening. For an outsider looking in, it appeared like they were on a date.

  The flutter in her stomach from the intimacy of the brief sexually charged moment outside of Brash earlier made her wish they were going on an actual date and not another search for clues. It seemed wrong that a poodle got more action.

  She puffed a breath. “Let’s go.”

  They left the house and Noah steered her to his big truck. She tried to draw back, but his hand was on her elbow.

  “I’m driving.” He left no room to argue. “There will be rough customers there and I’m not arriving in Harvey. That car is an invite to have my face punched.”

  Harper easily conceded. The truck was decked out inside like a space shuttle. She secretly looked forward to taking a break from the rattling rental car.

  Of course, she’d never tell him that.

  “Don’t get used to getting your way,” she said, taking a firm stand as she climbed into the Chevy. “I’m the boss in this partnership.”

  His eyes crinkled in the corners. Her nerve endings buzzed and she may have drooled a little. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking as she checked her chin.

  “Yes, ma’am.” They pulled away from the curb.

  Drat. Harper felt the warring struggle between doing what was right for her emotional good health and wanting to crawl over the center console and kiss him silly.

  She really needed to get ahold of herself and stop the kissing and butt grabbing if she wanted to get to the truth on who killed Gerald. But she didn’t want to ruin what could be the nice friendship growing with Noah.

  The hardest part of reconnecting with him had been realizing that the worst part of losing him hadn’t been the sex or the wild adventures. It had been losing their friendship.

  They’d shared a closeness she hadn’t been able to replicate with another man, despite several tries.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked and cut the silence. He glanced at her.

  Should she tell him she was contemplating her grocery list or wondering about the state of foreign affairs? Those would certainly keep things impersonal.

  “Do you ever miss our friendship?” Yep, her big mouth betrayed her again. So much for impersonal.

  Without hesitation, he said, “All the time.”

  There was a trace of wistfulness in his voice. Although he’d been the one to lay waste to their relationship, he’d clearly lost something, too. He’d loved her, for all his mistakes. That she knew with everything in her.

  Her throat tightened. “Do you think we can be friends again?” If she was opening up, she might as well go all in.

  Noah said nothing for the next seven minutes until they pulled into the parking lot of the strip club. He parked, paused, and then looked over at her. Her heart twitched.

  “I don’t think we ever lost our friendship,” he stated simply. “I think we just took a break.”

  * * * *

  Looking into her troubled eyes, Noah sensed she was going somewhere with this but wasn’t sure of the direction. He wasn’t convinced she knew either. But somewhere over these last few days, the connection they’d had back in high school had flared up again. And he wanted her back in his life, for good.

  That was something he’d keep to himself for now. If he said anything, he might chase her off. She was still deciding what to do with him, and he wanted her to make a decision that was right for her, for them both.

  Scaring her off a second time would be forever. She’d never give him another chance.

  Still he took hope. “Let’s go. I have G-strings to stuff.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “You have issues.”

  “Yes, but you like me anyway.”

  Beneath her curls, she sent him a look. He expected her to deny her feelings. Instead, she said, “That I do.”

  And for a second, as she walked to the club in front of him, happiness punched him in the gut.

  * * * *

  The bar was loud and smelled like liquor and sweat and desperation. Empty-eyed women danced on the stage, using poles as their partners, while lonely men, seated in the dim light, fantasized about real connections that would never be.

  A few couples rounded out the crowd, and the room was only a quarter full. It was early and a week night, and Noah was thankful. They’d have a better chance to talk to Angel if she wasn’t too busy with clients.

  “What a sad place,” Harper said over the noise.

  Although the Prancing Pony was cleaner and nicer than most strip clubs, the sparkle and shine couldn’t hide the place from what it was, lonely people and sexual fantasies for money.

  “Let’s see if we can find Angel,” he said and steered her toward the bar. Several women in tiny panties, bikini tops, and stilettos passed them and sent appreciative looks at Noah. One gave Harper a smiled invitation. There was something for everyone at the Prancing Pony.

  The bartend
er, a young man in his twenties, asked them what they wanted to drink. “No drinks, thanks,” she said. “We’re here to talk to Angel.”

  He took a better look at them. Clearly protective of the dancer, he said nothing but waited for more information.

  “We need to talk to her about an old friend of hers,” Noah said over the noise. “He died and there’s an estate to settle.”

  The explanation wasn’t a full lie and left the bartender to come to his own conclusion. He went in the direction Noah had pointed him. “She might get an inheritance?”

  Harper shrugged and continued the ruse. “We won’t know until we talk to her. Now will you tell us where she is or do we walk out of this bar?”

  Eager now, the guy pointed to the stage. “She comes on next so you’ll have to wait.”

  Figuring they’d be there awhile, Noah ordered a couple of beers and they took seats near the left side of the stage. The dancer finished her song and collected the money tossed at her feet. She waved as she walked off.

  The lights dimmed and the first lines of a new tune loaded up. From behind a curtain, Angel, in shadow, strolled toward one single spotlight, confident in ridiculously high heels. She knew all eyes were on her and played to her audience.

  The crowd cheered. She was obviously a fan favorite.

  Slowly Angel revealed herself as she stepped into the light. To Noah’s surprise, she was young, blond, and beautiful, and engaged with the audience. By the noise, they were thrilled to see her. She was in her element and knew who paid her bills.

  For a couple of minutes, she took off her outer garments in a teasing display. Money flew. He watched with a critical eye and understood why Gerald took up with her. She hadn’t fully become hardened by life. Yet. The question he most wanted to ask was why she let herself become entangled with a married man.

  There must have been better options.

  Suddenly, Harper caught her breath beside him. Turning his head, he saw her eyes locked on the young woman.

  “Noah, do you see what I see?”

  Chapter 28

  Noah returned his attention to Angel. Puzzled, he shook his head. Another round of clothing went flying.