Two Guys Detective Agency (humorous mystery series--book 1)

by Stephanie Bond

  Octavia gritted her teeth. “What, Carla?”

  “Some men came...they had these papers to take the cars.” She held up a handful of neon-colored papers. “I couldn’t stop them.”

  Her head swam. “Has my husband called?”

  “No.” But Carla wasn’t making eye contact.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Carla looked up. “Some things are gone.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “The silver.”

  “The silver?”

  “And the framed drawing in the library.”

  “The Picasso?”

  “And some of Mr. Habersham’s clothing.”

  Swallowing hard, Octavia pushed past Carla and hurried upstairs to their bedroom. She threw open the door to Richard’s walk-in closet and noted that more clothes were missing than were required for a weekend in Lexington. A check of his jewelry case confirmed her worst suspicions: His most cherished watches and cufflinks were gone. It seemed he’d planned an extended trip—without her.

  She raced to Richard’s office. His laptop was gone, no surprise. She opened drawers in his desk to find them virtually empty—where were their personal financial records? On the fax machine was the summary report Frank had promised to send. Every line item sent her heart sliding lower. Not only were their accounts empty, but their debt was gut-clenching, their mortgage payments—and everything else—months overdue.

  How could Richard have kept this from her?

  She glanced around the room blindly, and in the back of her mind, registered something was out of place. She scanned the room again and her gaze settled on the bookshelf behind Richard’s desk. Not out of place—something was gone: the twenty thousand dollar Chihuly glass bowl she’d given him for his birthday.

  She leaned into his massive mahogany desk to keep from falling down...and spotted the letter Carla had described from the sheriff’s office, the one that had been taped to the front door.

  Octavia picked up the envelope, ran her finger under the flap, and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. Writ of Eviction. They had fourteen days to remove their personal belongings from the foreclosed property.

  Foreclosed.

  It wasn’t possible. Not her big, gorgeous home, her trophy of success. The words on the page blurred. There were ways to stop foreclosure...weren’t there? She’d only half-listened to the news as the foreclosure epidemic had rolled over the country—it hadn’t pertained to her.

  She picked up the cordless phone from Richard’s desk and hit the speed dial button for his direct line at his office. The phone rang two, three times, then Richard’s voice came over the line.

  A recording. “This is Richard Habersham. I’ve stepped away from my desk—”

  She cursed and threw the phone across the room. It hit a wall and exploded before crashing to the floor.

  On the eviction notice she wrote with a black felt-tip marker “Fix this, Frank!!!!” and faxed it to the accountant’s office. She stood still for several minutes and tried to breathe, tried to calm her sprinting heart. Bright spots flashed behind her eyes. This could not be happening.

  The fax machine kicked on and she saw a response was coming from Frank’s office. She heaved a sigh of relief—Frank would know what to do. She waited as the hand-written message scrolled out of the machine.

  I can’t make any promises. And there is the matter of my outstanding bill. Have you been able to reach Richard?

  She crunched the piece of paper in her hands.

  The rumble of a loud vehicle arriving outside brought her head around. She hurried to the window and looked down on the front yard. A large delivery truck from a local big box electronics store had backed up in the driveway. Surely Richard hadn’t ordered yet another piece of equipment for his prized home theater.

  How would they pay for it?

  The doorbell sounded like a gong in the house. A few seconds later, Carla’s panicked voice rang out. “Mrs. Habersham!”

  What now? Octavia thought as she moved to the top of the stairs.

  Two meaty looking men were walking through the entryway, heading toward the rear of the house where the home theater was located. “We’re here to repossess the flat screen, and the sound system,” one of them said without breaking stride.

  Oh, dear God—carry out the equipment while her neighbors gawked? Tongues were probably already wagging from their vehicles being towed away. And weren’t foreclosures announced in the newspaper?

  “No!” she shouted, and jogged down the stairs, made more problematic by the cheap flip-flops of Linda’s she wore. By the time she flapped to the bottom, the men were coming back through the foyer, with speakers under their arms.

  “You can’t do this,” she yelled, following them outside. “Put those back!” She tugged on one of their shirts ineffectively.

  “Step back, lady,” one of the guys threatened.

  From out of nowhere came the sound of a growling dog. Octavia whirled to see Max straining in an aggressive stance toward the men, his teeth bared, his leash dragging behind him. He barked and snarled as if he might tear off a limb.

  “Call off your dog, lady,” one of the men shouted. “We’re just doing our job.”

  Octavia’s estimation of the big wrinkly hound rose a few notches, but he’d also caused a big, fat scene. Neighbors had emerged to see what the commotion was all about. Across the street, Emily Devonshire waved, then cupped her hands to call, “Is everything alright?”

  Octavia waved back. “Oh, yes! We’re just replacing our old TV. Thanks, though!” Nosy witch. Octavia turned back to the men and muttered, “Hurry the hell up.”

  Linda came bounding up and retrieved the end of Max’s leash. “Sorry, sis, he got away from me.” She quieted the dog with a stern command, then murmured, “What’s going on?”

  “None of your business,” Octavia snapped, stinging with humiliation. “Why are you still here?”

  Linda blanched. “Sorry for the trouble. We’re going now.”

  Octavia instantly regretted her outburst, then reminded herself she didn’t have time for regrets, not when her life was imploding right in front of her. She couldn’t find Richard. She was broke. She had no transportation. And in two weeks, she’d have no place to live. She considered her options, which amounted to one, then swore under her breath. “Linda...wait.”

  Her sister turned back.

  “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” Octavia wet her lips. “I need a place to stay for a little while, until things settle down.”

  Linda gave a laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

  Octavia wondered if she’d finally pushed her sister too far...and for a split second, she almost wished Linda would show some spunk, even if it was at her expense.

  Linda pulled her hand over her mouth. “You’re welcome to stay with us, but you know what the accommodations are like.”

  “I can handle adversity,” Octavia said charitably.

  Linda looked heavenward, then said, “Do you want to follow me home?”

  “Actually...I’ll need to ride with you.”

  “Why?”

  “My car isn’t available.”

  “O...kay. I assume you’ll want to pack a suitcase?”

  “Give me a few minutes to grab some essentials.” She dodged the men coming out carrying the massive flat screen TV that Richard had been so ecstatic over when it had been delivered, and suddenly, she was glad to see it go.

  “Carla!” she shouted as she walked into the house.

  The woman appeared, looking teary. “Yes, Mrs. Habersham?”

  “I need your help to gather some personal things.”

  “You’re leaving?” The woman looked apprehensive.

  She didn’t want to ignite more gossip...nor did she want Carla to find a new position in case she and Richard were able to set things right with the mortgage. “I’m going to stay with my sister for a while. She just lost her husband, you know.”

  Octavia
hurried to her bedroom and threw open her own enormous walk-in closet and instructed Carla to put her suitcases on the bed.

  “All of them?”

  “Er...I don’t know exactly what I’ll need while I’m there,” Octavia hedged. She grabbed armfuls of clothes and dumped them into the open cases, hangers and all. When they ran out of suitcases and trunks, Carla fetched a stack of heavy duty garbage bags to hold shoes and handbags. Octavia longed to change clothes, but she didn’t dare stop long enough. Instead she tied a Hermes scarf around her neck to spice up her lame outfit.

  When they were finished bagging everything, Octavia looked up and felt a surge of affection for Carla...the woman deserved to know the truth.

  “To be honest, Carla, I don’t know when Mr. Habersham or I will be back, so you should try to find another position if you can.”

  The woman looked crestfallen, but she nodded. “Do you think Mr. Habersham is safe?”

  Until I find him. Then Octavia squinted. “Why would you think he wouldn’t be?”

  Carla looked over her shoulder, as if she were afraid someone else was listening. “Two days ago Mr. Habersham gave me something to keep for him.”

  Octavia frowned. “What did he give you?”

  Carla hesitated, then reached into her pocket and withdrew a small padded envelope.

  “What is it?” Octavia took the package.

  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

  A stamp of Richard’s legal insignia spanned the sealed edge of the envelope. The date two days prior and Richard’s initials were scribbled on the insignia in his handwriting. Otherwise, there were no markings on it. A small heavy object had settled into the corner, but it was impossible to identify the item. A ring? A coin?

  “When did Richard say he’d be back to get it?”

  “He didn’t say,” Carla murmured. “But I’ve kept it with me. And now you say you and Mr. Habersham might not be back...I didn’t want to disappear with it.”

  “You did the right thing by giving it to me.” But inside she fumed. What was Richard thinking giving Carla something valuable for safekeeping? He knew she suspected the woman of taking her diamond watch.

  Then a horrible thought occurred to her. She marched to her jewelry hutch and threw open the doors.

  Carla gasped. “Where’s all your jewelry?”

  Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” She had her exclusive jewels with her, but even her second-tier jewelry was pretty darn valuable.

  The woman’s eyes widened and she began to back up. “I—I didn’t take anything, Mrs. Habersham. I swear, I would never do that.”

  Octavia believed her—dammit. Because she had a feeling Richard had cleaned out her jewelry box along with his own...and considering the state of their finances, he was probably the culprit behind her missing watch, too. It was like a kick in the teeth.

  “Don’t worry, Carla. I believe you.” She rummaged through what was left of the jewelry and came up with a modest pair of diamond stud earrings—the kind one might wear grocery shopping—and put them in Carla’s hand. “Thank you for your help and your service.”

  “I couldn’t take these,” Carla protested.

  “You can and you will.” Octavia tilted her jewelry hutch forward and emptied the loose baubles into an empty purse. “It’s the least I can do for you carrying all these bags down to my sister’s van. If you hurry, you can get them all loaded before that enormous truck leaves, so the neighbors won’t see you.”

  Carla surveyed the mound of suitcases and bulging bags with a watery smile, but she nodded and tucked the earrings into a pocket.

  Octavia dropped the mysterious padded envelope into the purse along with the jewelry to deal with later. On the way out of the house, she picked up the unopened mail lying on a foyer table and stuffed it inside, too—one of the envelopes might contain a check.

  Tears pricked her eyelids as she drank in the details of the extravagant home she’d so painstakingly put together, candlestick by candlestick. She refused to cry—this wasn’t the end...she simply wouldn’t let it be.

  But her hatred for Richard was growing by the moment. Leaving her was one thing, but leaving her exposed like this was simply unforgivable.

  He. Would. Pay.

  Chapter Ten

  “SEE, I TOLD YOU it would all fit,” Octavia said as Linda slid the van door closed.

  “Barely.” Linda bit her lip as she surveyed how low the loaded van sat on its worn out tires. “Have you seen my home? I don’t know where we’re going to put all this stuff.”

  “It’s temporary,” her sister assured her. “Now let’s get out of here before that big-ass truck leaves.” Octavia hopped into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  Linda looked down at Max, who looked up at her. “Come on.” She led him around to Octavia’s door and rapped on the window.

  Octavia cracked open the door. “What?”

  Linda gestured to the bags overflowing between the two front seats. “Max is going to have to sit on your lap.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way, unless you want to drive.”

  Octavia frowned. “I refuse to drive a minivan.”

  Linda patted the seat next to Octavia. “Up, Max.”

  The dog obeyed and she settled him across her sister’s lap under much protest. Linda smiled to herself as she circled back to climb into the driver’s seat. She started the engine. “So what’s going on? Are you leaving Richard?”

  “No. I’m merely leaving my house.” Octavia shifted under the weight of an unwieldy Max and made a face. “It seems we’ve been foreclosed on.”

  Linda’s mouth dropped in shock. “Foreclosed?”

  “My CPA will handle everything,” Octavia said with a dismissive wave. “I’m sure it’s a matter of crossed paperwork or something. Now let’s get going.”

  Linda hoped she would be so calm when her house was foreclosed upon. “I don’t guess you’ve talked to Richard?”

  “That would be no.”

  Octavia had nothing more to add as they wove back through the neighborhood. After they exited the gate, she pointed in the direction opposite the Interstate. “Turn here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Richard’s office.”

  “He’s there?”

  “He’d better hope not.”

  Linda studied her sister’s determined profile and the thought crossed her mind that she didn’t relish being in the middle of a confrontation. But she knew Octavia when she got something in her head, so she kept quiet and kept driving.

  A few minutes later, Octavia directed her to pull into an office park.

  From the size of the white one-story building that heralded “Habersham Law Office” in gilded letters on its front picture window, Richard appeared to be doing well for himself. The exterior of the building resembled a residence, with a small front porch and plant bed, ringed with perennials. Very homey.

  Right down to the “Closed—Please Visit Again Soon” sign posted on the front door.

  “Back in next to those trees,” Octavia said, pointing to a spot across the parking lot.

  Linda frowned, but did as she asked.

  “I’ll be right back,” Octavia said. “How do I get the hound off of me?”

  “I’ll get him,” Linda said. “He might need to be walked again.” She alighted and walked around to open the passenger door. Then she helped Max down—his arthritic legs didn’t let him bounce like he used to.

  “I’ll take him for a walk,” Octavia offered. “Hook him up.”

  Linda lifted one eyebrow, especially when Octavia removed the scarf around her neck, wrapped it around her dark hair, and tied it under her chin. With her big, designer sunglasses, her face was almost completely covered. But she hooked on Max’s leash and handed it to Octavia, along with a plastic bag.

  “What’s this for?”

  “In case he has to go.”

  “Are you in
sane?” Octavia shoved the bag back into Linda’s hand. “I don’t pick up dog shit.” She shook the leash. “Come on, you.”

  Linda watched bemused as Octavia crossed the rather long parking lot, practically dragging Max behind her. She approached the office door with composure. She tried the doorknob, but it was obviously locked. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered inside. Then, presumably disappointed, Octavia allowed Max to explore the flower bed.

  Linda felt a stab of pity for her high-strung sister—she had to be frustrated beyond belief, yet she was handling her husband being missing better than Linda thought possible.

  A group of teenage boys walked by. Octavia bent over and Linda wondered if her sister had had a change of heart about cleaning up after Max. Then, as quick as a snake striking, Octavia picked up a brick and hurled it through the big gilt-lettered window.

  Immediately, an alarm sounded. Max began to howl. Octavia pointed a finger to the passing teens, shouting at them, as if one of them had done it. They looked bewildered. Octavia yanked Max away, pointing and shouting at the boys. Pedestrians stopped to stare. The teens scattered like ants.

  Linda stared in stunned silence as Octavia strode back to the van and climbed inside. It took some time for her and Max to get settled, then she turned her head toward Linda.

  “What?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Linda sputtered. “You could be arrested!”

  Octavia untied the scarf and scoffed. “Everyone thinks one of those kids did it.”

  “Well, I hope you feel better.”

  “I will if Richard shows up.” She offered up a glib smile. “When the alarm goes off, he gets an automated call on his cell phone. If he’s within driving distance, he’ll show up. Nothing means more to Richard than his practice.”

  Linda pursed her mouth. Good thinking.

  They were tucked far enough away from the spectacle that no one would notice them, but still Linda’s heart pounded. Max lifted his head and bayed.

  “Can’t you shut him up?” Octavia snapped.

  “The alarm probably hurts his ears,” Linda said, but rubbed his head to quiet him.