Suds and Sam For Hire

by Stella Marie Alden

  Hungover? This ought to be good. “Where did you go?”

  “That new club. The one on lower Broadway? Oh my God. You should’ve seen all the hot guys.”

  “Unemployed?”

  “No, I don’t think so…”

  Grinning, I slice my bagel, and flatten it with a palm so it will fit in my toaster. “Then why are they out on a Thursday night?”

  “Same reason we were, looking to get laid.” Rose raises one brow and sips her coffee gingerly.

  “Speak for yourself.” Mia plops down in a chair, says a short grace, and pours out frosted corn flakes. “I, for one, am looking for a husband.”

  “Say, I got an idea. You want to take my date? He’s cute.” I show Mia the picture Vinny sent me.”

  “Nah. I went out with him last month. He’s nice enough but Mrs. Nardo says he’s a money launderer.”

  I shrug and turn the screen toward Rose. “You?”

  “Maybe. When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “No can do. See if you can get him to move it and I’ll take him off your hands but you’ll owe me.”

  “Absolutely. Thanks.”

  She stands, yawns, and stretches. “We better get going, Mom gets all kinds of pissed off if we’re late on Fridays, especially if we’re hungover.”

  On our way out, Joey steps into the stairwell and points a spatula at me. “Is the damn cat still up there?”

  “Yeah. What of it?” I jut out my chin.

  “No pets allowed.”

  I shrug. “Have fun explaining that to Frankie.”

  “Well, don’t let it spray nasty shit or scratch up the furniture.”

  “You can discuss it directly with the feline. I’m not promising anything.” I wrap my scarf around my neck and put on my mittens while my cousin scratches his head with the wooden stick.

  He touches my arm. “Hold on. You home this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I may need to drop off Kimmy for a while. Youz okay wid dat? I’ll lose a few bucks from your rent.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  When he enters his apartment, I raise my brows as do Mia and Rose, no doubt thinking the same thing as me. Joey never goes out.

  After lunchtime, the sun comes out but it’s cold as hell. Steam hisses out of the old radiators in the kitchen and I sit close. While our large windows give a lot of light, the draft sucks big time.

  Chloe, curled up on the corner of the couch catches the late afternoon sun. While Rose and Mia cut hair in the salon, I start sifting through the data surrounding my new case.

  I need to find someone to sue.

  At first glance, it’s pretty straight forward. Three coworkers at an insurance company went outside, expecting to grab a sandwich from the lunch truck. Without warning, a black Mercedes jumped the curb and ran into them. One broke a leg, another, a wrist, and all had severe cuts and bruising.

  If not for the fire hydrant, it would’ve been much worse.

  While I’m digging deep into their histories, Joey knocks on the door holding Kimmy in one arm, a contraption in another. He opens a swing, cranks it, and places her in it.

  Then he drops a diaper bag on the couch. The cat yowls, jumps up on the mantel, and Mary again crashes to the floor, her newly attached head spinning around in circles.

  “Jesus.” Joey’s eyes go wide.

  “No. To be precise, that would be His mother.” I grab the rolling head away from Chloe, pawing at it like it’s a mouse.

  Joey makes the sign of the cross while shaking his head. “Wasn’t that Mia’s?”

  “Yeah. Think she’ll miss it?”

  “I wouldn’t want to be youz.” He kisses a Saint Christopher medal around his neck as he puts a baby bottle in the fridge. “Kimmy will want to eat in about an hour. Warm dis up. Not too hot. You ever watch a kid before?”

  “Honestly? No.” When the toddler grins up at me from her swing, my maternal instinct hits me upside the head like a baseball bat and again, I wish like hell I could get my life on track.

  Joey completely misses my internal struggle. “If she cries, pick her up. She’s either wet or hungry. Simple. Badda bing, badda boom.”

  “Don’t you worry none, I got her.”

  “T’anks.” On his hands and knees, he kisses his baby girl and she giggles.

  While he stands, I retrieve a few pieces of the holy statue and try to seem disinterested but Mia and Rose made me promise to get the skinny. “Where you off to?”

  “Vinnie says I need to get back on my game.” He shakes his head back and forth as he makes his way down the stairs muttering. “Like having a kid and watching over youz guys isn’t enough.”

  Before he can get too far I shout from the living room, “Can you stay long enough so I can cancel Vinny’s date?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I’ll be home by seven. Tell Jimmy he can come by then.” The stairs creak and his head pops up like a prairie dog. “You need to learn how to go with the flow.”

  With his priceless words of wisdom ringing in my ear, he hops downstairs. Once the door slams, I crank the baby swing, grab a dust bin, and sweep up the Madonna’s remains. This time she’s unsalvageable.

  I point my brush at Catzilla. “You better start practicing your cute-kitty-act because I’m not taking the fall for this.”

  Chloe sniffs at Kimmy’s toes who chortles with happiness. This makes the cat jump and the baby giggles hysterically.

  With those two happily engaged, I restart my analysis and about an hour later, double check my findings. Huh. More than a dozen employees from Good Health Insurance have had accidents in the last year.

  That’s weird. I try to find out what these people have in common but come up empty handed. Normally, I’d ask Jason, my artificial intelligence go-to, but everyone got an email from Dr. Jones. All of its processing power is working on finding the Manhattan serial killer.

  Shortcuts currently unavailable, I research online and make calls. I can’t believe how many hang up on me.

  Kimmy cries so I quickly look up how to feed a six month old baby. I feel pretty good until I burp her and she pukes white cheese onto the kitchen floor. While the cat laps it up, I use my bed as a changing table.

  I realize my mistake way too late.

  So, after stripping my linens, I bathe the little beauty, get her in her PJ’s, and look like hell when Joey arrives.

  “Jimmy’s here.” He eyes me up and down. “You’re not going out like dat, are youz?”

  I glance down at my outfit, decorated with baby spit-up and pee. “Hey, this is not my fault. Tell him he needs to wait.”

  Joey snickers, grabs his daughter, and jogs down the stairs while I do a Superman-in-the-telephone-booth makeover. I shower, slip into a sweater dress, and don over-the-knee boots. My hair goes up in a fancy clip and my makeup takes less than thirty seconds to apply.

  When I get downstairs, Joey whistles. “Damn.”

  My date, the Italian money launderer, squeezes my hand. “Bella. So nice to meet you.”

  Normally, I would swoon because the guy is off the charts hot but my heart and soul belongs to my bodyguard, currently skiing with some bimbo actress in Utah.

  “Sorry, I’m late.” I fluff my hair and double check my outfit to make sure I didn’t put it on inside out or worse.”

  “No problem. Joey said you were taking care of his bambino?” He places his hand low on my ass which I skillfully scoot away from by opening the outside door.

  “Kimmy. Yes. She, ah, well… I needed a shower.” I picture my mountain of laundry and moan. Tomorrow, I’ll be driving my wire basket on wheels to the ’mat.

  “Ready?” He grabs hold of my hand, tucks it in his elbow crease, and walks me to a waiting limo.

  Inside, he gives me a heated smile but my body refuses to respond. He might as well be gay, according to my lady-lips-o-meter.

  I remove his hand from my knee. “Listen, Jimmy. I’m seeing someone. The only reason I a
greed to go out with you is my uncle insisted.”

  “I know all about that, bella. I enjoy a challenge.” He flashes me his million dollar smile.

  Oh for fuck’s sake. Vinny found me a live wire this time.

  My phone pings. “Excuse me.”

  I dig through my purse and it’s a text from Suds.

  Me: Can’t talk

  Suds: Cat got your tongue?

  Me: Ha Ha. Chloe’s going to cat-hell

  Suds: What now?

  Me: She broke Mia’s First Communion Mary

  Suds: Damn.

  Me: Can’t chat. Blind Date.

  Suds: You gotta be fuckin’ kidding

  Me: No big deal. I can handle him.

  Suds: You tell him you’re engaged?

  Me: Tried

  Suds: F-ing Vincent. Where is he taking U?

  Me: I’ll text when I get home. Plz don’t worry.

  I turn off my phone.

  Chapter 7

  Suds

  Hell no. No fucking way someone takes my woman to dinner when I’m across the country. I thought me and Vinny had an understanding. Apparently not.

  I will straighten him out the moment I get back to New York. In the meantime, I text Sam’s coordinates to Lucky.

  Me: Plan A.

  Loch: I got your 6

  Me: I Owe U

  About thirty minutes later, he texts me back.

  Loch: Date over.

  Then, my phone rings and, it’s Sam. “Was that you?”

  “Was what me?” I cup my ear, trying to block the dance club’s loudspeaker.

  “Jimmy was arrested, right in the middle of the pasta.”

  “Sorry.” I inch closer to where Tiera dances, surrounded by admiring men.

  “Don’t be, it was gluey. Way overpriced.”

  “What did they take him down for?” The intel I had Lucky drop off with her Dad had plenty of dirt, any one of the crimes worthy of a trip downtown.

  Sam shouts into the phone. “Not sure. Embezzlement? He swears they had the wrong guy.”

  “Shit happens.” I grin, imagining her date in cuffs.

  “Did you call my dad?” Her image pops up on my phone’s screen, pretty face skewed.

  I keep one eye on Tiera, the other on my gal. “No way. He doesn’t even like me.”

  “Well, somehow the warrant came from his office.”

  “No shit.” I chuckle at her grin. “Are you mad?”

  “Only if Uncle Vinny raises my rent.” She sticks her tongue out at me, cute as hell.

  “He won’t trace it back, I made sure of it.”

  “Then it was you!”

  “Sugar, this is not on me. I told your uncle we were exclusive. He should’ve let it go.”

  “I told you. He’s old fashioned. He wants to see a wedding band.”

  “Okay, let me buy you a damn ring.”

  “We have other stuff we need a lot worse.”

  “Fine, marry me without the jewelry, darlin’.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as we can afford it.”

  “Seeeebastian. Help!” My client shouts from the dance floor, I glance up, and rush toward her.

  “Shit. Sorry, got to go.” I hang up with Sam while pulling the actress clear of a drunk with bear paw hands.

  “Fuck it, Tiera. I told you. Stop teasing the animals.” I take her out the back door and from there, to my car. I’ll send Jennifer for her coat, later.

  When I get us back to the A-frame, I call Samantha but I assume, because it’s late, she doesn’t respond. She probably fell asleep, at least I hope so. I pray she isn’t pissed about me getting her date arrested. I know she can take care of herself but being so far away has me thinkin’ thoughts better left un-thunk.

  Once I make sure Tiera is home for good, I call her agent and explain she needs a babysitter. My job is to keep her safe, not to keep her from being stupid. Frankly, I don’t get paid enough to stay ahead of her reckless behavior.

  After a fitful sleep I ping Sam around five, seven in the morning, her time. Already she’s awake and investigating the case Slate handed her.

  Her voice excitedly fills me in. “Get this. I found out there’s over a dozen accidents related to the old woman on Broadway.”

  From her voice’s pace and timbre, I’m guessing she’s had two, maybe three sixteen ounce coffees. “It could be a weird coincidence and I’m not ruling it out. I just want to make sure there’s nothing sinister going on.”

  “You be careful, now. Y’hear?”

  “I will, I will. Jeesh. It’s all online data. There’s nothing dangerous, I promise. I tried to use Jason but Dr. Jones says her AI is one hundred percent maxed out looking for the city slasher. He struck again. Another woman was found dead.”

  “You stay out of Manhattan until he’s caught, okay?” My stupid heart goes cold at the thought of her doing surveillance at all hours of the night.

  “Yeah, no worries. I’ve got everything I need at home. And did I tell you? I started watching Kimmy in the afternoons.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Joey says Vinny’s putting him to work and he needs someone to watch her.”

  “What about the cat?”

  “The two actually like each other. I really never thought about having kids before but now… I don’t know. It might be nice, you know?”

  A baby? Me? For a moment, I wonder if I’ve entered into a parallel universe. There is nothing I’d like more than to put my child in her belly but it would blow her five-year-plan straight to hell.

  “What about Suds and Sam Detective Agency?”

  “I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive, do you?”

  “No, but...” My therapy sessions come to mind and I wonder what kind of dad wakes up with pistol in hand, ready to kill. “How will that work with a midnight feeding?”

  “Hey, if you don’t want kids… ”

  Hell, her quick dismissal makes me feel like a fucking heel. “I didn’t say that, you did. I’m just not sure about the timing.”

  “Don’t get all miffed. I get it.”

  But I don’t think she does.

  Chapter 8

  Sam

  The second week of January starts by spewing freezing rain, then pukes out a foot of snow by Wednesday. So, other than the beauty parlor, I mostly work at home. I text my tough guy every night and ignore the ones from Uncle Vinny. When Friday comes around again, Rose and Mia go out but Chloe and I decide to share a beer and watch Netflix.

  On Saturday, while I’m eating lunch in front of my keyboard, Slate calls me. “The FBI wants to hire you.”

  “That’s nice, but I work for Suds and Sam, a brand new Patten affiliate.”

  He chuckles. “I was hoping you’d say that. I told them I might be able to convince you to contract through me.”

  “Sure. Make sure to charge them through the nose. What do they need?” I picture my old boss having to explain to his superiors how he fired me and do a little hip-shaking around the kitchen.

  Slate, unaware of my happy dance, downloads. “The FBI is catching a lot of heat for the lack of progress in the Manhattan Slasher case. The public is calling for blood.”

  This is the chance I’ve been waiting for, to prove they made a huge mistake in sending my job to Ireland. “I want full access. No restrictions.”

  “I expected nothing less. Anything else?”

  Chloe pads into the kitchen, jumps on the shelf, and eyes me as I make my demands. “I want a personal invite from Special Agent Kessler. If you could get him to grovel, it would be great.”

  “I’ll see what I can do but don’t be too rough on him. We want more work.”

  “Moi?” I laugh.

  Slate mutters something about Sebastian deserving me before sending me files and saying goodbye.

  I get nowhere on the city killer but as a second thought, look up a few things on my other case. One person pops up, common to all the d
eaths. Holy fuck. Maybe these accidents were not coincidental. If so, this is huge. Excited to share my news, I call Suds and he picks up.

  “Hey sugar.” A noisy party goes on in the background and Tiera giggles close by.

  Her voice gets closer. “Is she your girlfriend? Thanks for sharing Sebastian, he rocks in bed.”

  My fiancé moves away from the noise. “Don’t pay her no mind. She’s wasted. What’s up?”

  Pangs of jealousy course through my veins. Tiera’s a gorgeous actress, has access to my man twenty-four-seven and by his own admission, he is no saint. What if he gave into temptation and slept with her?

  I swallow the acidic bile in the back of my throat and ignore the green monster threatening to spew all sorts of horrid accusations.

  “I ah…” I forget why I called.

  It’s better to hang up than say what’s on the tip of my tongue. “Nothing. I can tell you’re busy. We can talk later.”

  After tapping the red hang-up icon, I bash my forehead on the table.

  For fuck’s sake. I’m a grown woman and should not be jealous of a gorgeous, sexy, actress trying to steal my southern sweetheart.

  Fine. I don’t need his opinion, anyhow. I will rise above the sewer with more productive endeavors, like finding some clues on the murders. While I’m deep in research, Chloe jumps on the table and noses my index finger making the mouse click.

  “Stop.” I shove her off the table.

  “Meooorrwww.” Jumping back up, she walks across my keyboard and sticks her butt in my face.

  Finally, she settles down behind my laptop, chews on my power cord, and purrs.

  I follow the trail of an odd set of random accidents at Good Health and call them. After an hour or so of explanations, I arrive at an IT person who allows me access to their records.

  Everything leads to one denied claim, an employee of Good Health and a victim of cancer.

  As a teen, a Mr. Follet, worked in a garage. As such, he would’ve been perfectly capable of rigging brakes to fail. However, the woman who jumped the curb in front of the Disney store had a heart attack. Could he have caused that, as well?

  I check the autopsy report but other than the norm, no toxicology tests were run. Why would they? The medical examiner assumed there was no foul play.