Scratch that—make that for the last five days.
Dunk kept mum until they reached the minivan and he’d deposited the box inside. Linda thanked him, then waited for whatever he had to say.
He flashed a bullshit smile that encompassed both of them. “I just want to say again how sorry I am for what happened to Sullivan. And I’d like to take any cases he had left open off your hands. His agency would keep the client retainers, of course. Transfer the files to my agency, and we’ll simply pick up where he left off.”
Warning flags went up in Octavia’s head. She had no reason to think he was being anything but magnanimous...and she couldn’t imagine what Dunk could possibly gain from taking on Sullivan’s leftovers...plus he was offering Linda a tidy way out of her financial dilemma.
Still...Octavia’s instincts were screaming that Dunk couldn’t be trusted. But it wasn’t her decision to make.
Linda offered him a smile. “That’s very kind of you to offer, um, Dunk, but we won’t be needing your help. Octavia and I will be handling the outstanding cases.”
Octavia’s eyes bulged, but she had checked herself by the time Dunk swung his surprised gaze her way.
“Really?”
“Really,” Octavia confirmed.
He gave a little laugh. “No offense, but what do you girls know about investigating?”
Octavia gritted her teeth because the man had a point.
“Well,” Linda said, holding up her Mellon Vending lanyard, “we girls know how to get into any building in this city without raising suspicion.”
Octavia’s jaw dropped. Go, Linda!
“But thanks anyway,” Linda added.
Clearly perturbed, Dunk had no choice but to retreat. He said goodbye to Linda, and by the time he turned to Octavia, his charm was back. “Call me if you need...anything.”
“Will do,” she said, and watched him stride away, his long legs eating up the ground. When he was out of earshot, she turned back to Linda. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Linda said, shaking her head. “He was just so damn smug, I couldn’t resist.”
“You were brilliant...I didn’t recognize you.”
Linda frowned. “Thanks. I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”
“You and me, working together—how could that go wrong?”
“Right. Get in the van.”
Octavia climbed inside, feeling better—meaning less like she was going to have a stroke—than she had since Richard had ditched her at the funeral.
“So,” Linda said once they’d pulled onto New Circle Road, heading toward the agency, “is Dunk still chasing you?”
“I get the feeling that Dunk chases a lot of things.”
But she couldn’t deny that seeing him again gave her a charge. Especially now when her life was not the most inviting place to be. Seeing Dunk reminded her of when she was young and beautiful with countless possibilities scrolling out in front of her.
She pulled out her phone to check for voice messages. When she saw she had one, her heart jumped. Richard? She punched in the number, but it was Frank’s voice that came over the line.
“Octavia, I have some bad news about the mortgage. The bank has already taken possession, there’s no way to reverse it. You’ll need to get everything out that you want in the next couple of weeks, before the locks are changed. There’s a chance, of course, that you and Richard could buy it back once the dust settles. Call me when you hear from him. He’s still not answering my calls. And, um...there’s still the matter of settling my bill.”
Octavia deleted the message and closed her eyes. Richard, where are you?
“Any news?” Linda asked.
Octavia looked over. “Nothing helpful.”
“Maybe Klo will have something.”
Octavia nodded, but as they wove through traffic, her apprehension grew. How much did she really want to know about Richard? They had operated as two autonomous units for the better part of ten years. Part of what made them work was allowing the other person to do what they did best...and trusting each other.
She couldn’t have misread him all these years.
By the time they’d parked and walked into Sullivan’s investigation agency, she had convinced herself it was a wasted exercise. The report would show Richard’s credit had cratered, but she already knew that. He obviously hadn’t shared with her how much of a hit his firm had taken from the recession, but Richard Habersham was the most straight-laced, uptight, borderline-OCD person she knew. If he was guilty of anything, it was of having too much pride.
Yes...that was all.
They found Klo cleaning out files...and dressed just as inappropriately as before, Octavia noted. Did the woman own a full-length mirror?
“What did you find?” she asked without preamble.
Klo’s expression gave away nothing. “Here’s everything.” She handed over a file folder with a half-inch thick stack of papers inside. “You can sit at my desk,” she said, motioning to her chair.
Octavia accepted her offer, relieved when the two women walked away, engrossed in conversation about the open cases, leaving her in relative privacy. Her heart was beating wildly when she opened the file.
But within a few minutes, it had come to a standstill.
Aside from maintaining bank accounts she didn’t know about at a bank she wasn’t familiar with, last month Richard had bought a handgun.
A handgun? Was this the same man who couldn’t even kill his own lobster? The timing of the purchase was too coincidental to ignore.
She had to hand it to Klo—the broad had certainly done her homework. She’d learned the sizable amounts in the bank accounts had been emptied or closed, and the handgun was a 9 mm, whatever that was.
Their home phone records for the past thirty days were listed, along with the name of the person or business calling or being called. Nothing jumped out at her as being suspicious—there were calls from the homeowner’s association and the lawn service, and from a cleaning supplies company she didn’t recognize. Judging from the short length of the calls, they were either wrong numbers or telemarketers. As expected, there were a few calls from her friends at the club—Joan Berman, Patsy Greenwald, Katie Lender, Renee Masterson. And various calls from creditors, which she now understood.
But she hadn’t expected to find anything revealing because Richard conducted most of his personal and professional business over his cell phone.
She almost flipped past the arrest and violations report—Richard was much too law-abiding to do anything untoward, like get a DUI. Which is why she was surprised to see he’d received two unpaid parking tickets in the past few months—proof that he’d had a lot on his mind if he’d allowed those to fall through the cracks.
But it seemed that her meticulous husband had let a lot of things slide lately, including his hold on sanity.
Octavia tried to breathe. While there was a certain amount of relief in knowing that Richard hadn’t been kidnapped or worse, was it really better knowing he was AWOL somewhere living on cash he’d made from selling their jewelry and art?
She would argue no.
Richard had obviously been planning his escape for a while. But she’d bet he hadn’t counted on his wife breaking badass spy.
Octavia closed the file with a smack.
Chapter Fourteen
KLO HESITATED, her hand on the top file folder on the stack in front of her. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Yes, you said that already,” Octavia offered from the other side of the desk, rolling her hand. “Now let’s move on.”
Linda looked back and forth between the two women. It was clear they could never work together on a long-term basis. Since Octavia had gotten the background check on Richard yesterday, she’d been more moody than usual. And Klo...well, Linda understood her concern.
“Closing out the open cases is best for everyone,” Linda cajoled. “The clients get what they want, and the agency not on
ly gets to keep the retainers, but can collect on the delivery money, too, once the job is done.”
Klo looked unconvinced. “But the clients hired Sullivan.”
“Sullivan had help—you said yourself that you do the background checks and lots of other things, I’m sure.”
Klo nodded.
“And he hired Stone sometimes.”
Another nod.
“So the only thing the clients need to know,” Octavia cut in, “is that someone on Sullivan’s staff is going to take over their case.”
Klo looked at her. “What do you know about investigating?”
“I know it’s pretty damn antiquated to be using paper files.”
“Why don’t we discuss the cases,” Linda suggested, “and then we can talk about the skills required to finish the jobs.”
Klo and Octavia exchanged scowls, but Klo opened the top file folder.
“Case number 10356, Horizons Insurance Company.”
Linda found the file and opened it so she and Octavia could share. At the sight of Sullivan’s handwriting, she choked up, but pinched herself on the back of her hand to stem the tears.
“A personal injury case and a worker’s compensation case,” Klo continued. “Basically, the company doesn’t want to pay the claims if the employees aren’t as injured as they say they are.” She gave them a pointed look. “They need proof of the people doing something they’re not supposed to be able to do, and they need it fast—by next week. The personal injury case is on contingency—no money shot, no money.”
“So we follow them until they do something suspicious, then video them or take a picture?” Linda asked.
“That sounds easy,” Octavia said with a scoff.
“Don’t be so sure,” Klo said. “Some people are professionals at playing the injured party. And you can’t invade their privacy to get the picture—it has to be admissible in court.”
“Does the agency have a camera with a zoom lens?” Octavia asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we got this,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Next?”
Klo frowned, then moved to the next file. “Case 10360, Pleasant Ridge Retirement Home.”
Linda swapped out the folder and scanned Sullivan’s notes. “They have a petty thief inside?”
“Er, not exactly,” Klo said. “More like an STD epidemic—gonorrhea, to be specific.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ew,” Octavia said. “I thought it was an old folks’ home.”
“Older people have sex,” Klo said.
Octavia angled her head. “You do?”
“What,” Linda interjected while throwing Octavia a stern look, “does the client want, exactly?”
“The owner wants to quietly find patient zero and nip the epidemic in the bud before word gets out to the public.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Octavia asked.
“You’re the one who wants to play investigator,” Klo said sweetly.
“We’ll figure it out,” Linda assured them. “What else?”
“Case number 10363, Better Now Convenience Store. The owner thinks one or more of his employees are stealing from him. He needs proof.”
A sheet of paper in the file showed the front of the store and a couple of clerks posing for the picture wearing red and yellow striped smocks. “One of us will have to go undercover,” Linda asked, then looked at Octavia. “That’ll have to be you since I have the vending machine route.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear that getup.”
Klo suddenly looked cheery. “You do, and I’ll work out all the details with the owner.”
“Meanwhile,” Linda said before things got dicey, “Octavia and I have to get going—we’ll brainstorm on how we’re going to handle the cases.”
“I’ll be ready in a second,” Octavia said, then excused herself to the bathroom.
Klo glanced after her. When the door closed, she looked back to Linda. “Your sister is...interesting.”
Linda laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. She’s having a rough go of things right now.”
“And you’re not?”
“Yes, of course, but...Octavia is a little less equipped to deal with life’s setbacks.”
“I hope the background check answered some of her questions?”
“Yes...and raised new ones.”
“As is often the case. She’s staying with you and the kids for a while?”
“So it seems,” Linda said wryly. “It’s been bumpy, but I think it’s the distraction the kids and I need right now.”
“How are the kids?”
She sighed. “They seem to be fine. I talked to their teachers and they haven’t noticed any problems. Maggie asks about her dad a lot, is curious about death and heaven. Jarrod is so quiet, it’s hard to tell. I think we’re all still so bewildered.” When she felt the tears coming on again, she forced a smile. “We’re muddling through.” Then she waved vaguely in the air. “How about things around here?”
“I’m purging files and generally ramping down. Goodwill is going to pick up the office furniture at the end of the month. I’ll have some forms for you to sign tomorrow, to close down the business license and the rental agreement on the few pieces of computer equipment we have.” She wore a pained expression. “And there are some banking issues to discuss.”
Linda’s stomach dropped. “Okay. I’ll stop by around lunch time.”
The woman hesitated, then added, “I’m sure there are some personal things in Sullivan’s desk—”
“I’ll get to that soon,” Linda promised.
Klo nodded, then gestured to the folders Linda held. “By the way, do you have an extra file? I might’ve accidentally given you the case folder I’m supposed to send to the D.A.’s office. It’s labeled ‘Foxtrot.’ ”
Linda checked to make sure the file hadn’t inadvertently been mixed in with the others. “No.”
“That’s odd...I’ve searched every inch of the office and can’t find it anywhere.”
Linda darted a glance to Sullivan’s closed office door. “Did you check Sullivan’s briefcase?”
“Yes, and his desk.”
“How about the car he was leasing?”
“I took everything out of it before the dealership picked it up.”
“When was the last time you saw the folder?”
“When I first set up the case file. I hate to admit it, but Octavia is right—we should’ve had our files automated, but Sullivan was very old school, said digital files were too easy for other investigators to hack into. Did he keep any files at home?”
Linda thought of the utter chaos of their house, with building supplies stacked everywhere and her furniture displaced. “No. We were hoping to put an office for him in the den when the renovations were complete.” Her throat tightened.
“Don’t worry,” Klo soothed. “The file will turn up somewhere.”
“What did the case concern?”
“I don’t know—Sullivan wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I assumed A.D.A. Houston had insisted on confidentiality. I didn’t push.”
Octavia emerged from the restroom, her eyes suspiciously red. Poor Octavia—the day had been one pride-swallowing task after another, from sharing a bathroom at home to counting dirty nickels from the vending machine change buckets.
“Ready?” her sister asked.
Linda felt another pang of sympathy for Octavia, all dressed up in Gucci, but nowhere to go. “Yes.” Linda turned to Klo. “I’ll let you know if I find the file.”
“I’m sure it’s here somewhere, just misplaced in the shuffle. See you tomorrow.”
She followed Octavia out into the parking lot and headed toward the minivan. From the sidewalk in front of the pawn shop, Grim Hollister called hello. Linda returned his greeting, but Octavia continued walking rapidly, as if she didn’t want anyone to see her at the shabby st
rip mall.
“Do you mind driving?” Linda asked. “I need to fill out accounting reports before we make our rounds in the morning.”
Octavia opened her mouth and Linda expected her to say once again that she didn’t drive minivans. Instead she conjured up a smile and held out her hand for the keys. “What file is Klo missing?”
“The case file she’s supposed to send to the D.A.’s office.”
“Is it a big hairy deal?”
Linda smiled as they climbed inside. “Sounds like it. I knew Sullivan was working on an important case, but I don’t know what it was about or who he was working for.”
Octavia started up the engine and awkwardly shifted into drive. Linda was sure the dated instruments on the dashboard were a far cry from those of a Jaguar convertible.
“Sullivan didn’t talk about his work?” Octavia asked.
“No. It was confidential.”
At least that’s what she’d told herself. Sullivan said he didn’t like to talk about work because he didn’t want to bring his job home to affect her and the kids. But some part of her felt as if he purposely excluded her because he wanted to keep something for himself separate from the suburban life thrust upon him. As a result, his job had become like a third person in their marriage, someone she wasn’t allowed to get to know.
Which made it all the more ironic that she and Octavia were planning to close out his cases. She realized suddenly that he would not be happy at the prospect.
“So which case do you think we should take on first?” Octavia said, as if she had read her mind. She pulled into traffic on Todds Road in staccato fashion, to the tune of angry horns.
Linda curled her fingers around the armrest. “I’m thinking the personal injury case since it has the biggest potential payout. Tomorrow after we finish the vending route for the week, I have to swing by here and run a couple of errands. So why don’t we start Friday?”
“Friday works,” Octavia said happily. “Since you have other things to do, I’ll do the legwork on the cases.”
Linda glanced sideways at her sister. She was being very...accommodating. “You looked upset when you came out of the bathroom earlier. Is everything okay?”
Two Guys Detective Agency (humorous mystery series--book 1) Page 11
