Detective on Call

by Regan Black

  “I had lunch with Sofia today.”

  His mother, Lucia, and her younger sister were both retired and had lunch at least once a week. “How is she doing?”

  “Amazing.” Lucia didn’t sound happy about it. “She went on and on about how great she felt.”

  His stomach dropped. Please don’t let this be about RevitaYou. “And that’s a problem?”

  “She’s taking that new pill.”

  “RevitaYou.”

  “That’s the one,” Lucia said. “You told me it wasn’t such a miracle, but she looks good and says she feels better.”

  “Stay away from it, Mom. Please. It doesn’t work so well for everyone,” he added. “They haven’t figured out what makes it effective for some people.” And deadly for others, but he wouldn’t say that to his mom.

  The scientist who developed the formula had disappeared, but what Emmanuel had learned from Griffin’s fiancée, Abigail, was enough to convince him he didn’t want anyone he cared about taking a chance. “If you can, try to get Aunt Sofia to give it up too.”

  “I see.”

  And he knew she did. Lucia understood there were limits to what Emmanuel could share and when. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I’ll make sure she throws away her supply and doesn’t buy any more. You’d best get back to work,” she said. “Come for dinner soon.”

  “I promise. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As he walked into the station, he was more determined than ever to put an end to this RevitaYou case. Whatever it took.

  * * *

  Finally home, Pippa parked in her assigned space behind her building. She couldn’t wait to get upstairs to her condo and pour a glass of red wine. After a hot, steamy shower she might even think about food as well as other things before she sat down with the case again.

  And she’d had plenty going on in her personal life recently. Her foster brother, Brody Higgins, had gone missing. But he’d recently gotten in over his head with a health supplement company that carried a single product: RevitaYou. The product supposedly reversed the signs of aging by at least a decade. Unfortunately his no-fail investment didn’t pay out as soon as promised, and now he was hiding from Capital X, a loan shark operation posing as a legitimate finance company.

  Brody had agreed to a loan with impossible terms, and after he was unable to meet the repayment timeline, enforcers had been sent out to motivate him. He had the information that would put an end to Capital X, but only if CI could find him first. Pippa had been texting with Brody, relieved they were about to get him into a safe house, when he stopped responding. At least they had a new plan to help him. After much debate and discussion, she would be putting in a loan application tomorrow night with Capital X in an effort to draw out the enforcers. That would enable the Coltons to track them back to the bosses behind the operation.

  She gathered up her phone, jacket and briefcase and hurried into the building. Autumn put a bite in the air tonight. Turning, she aimed for the mailroom and fished out her key, hesitating before she opened her box.

  Threats had been trickling in since that first press conference following the verdict, when Elizabeth announced Pippa’s addition to the legal team. Calls to the office were typical when an attorney took a stand on a polarizing public issue. But the postcard a few days ago had thrown her off, made her nervous.

  DON’T BE A FOOL. SHE IS WHERE SHE BELONGS.

  The note had been written in all caps, with a blood-red marker. The picture on the front was an iconic shot of the Wentworth mansion at Christmastime. It hadn’t been stamped or postmarked, either, which indicated the sender had delivered it personally.

  Although unsettling, it happened with prominent cases. The general sentiment matched the tone of the phone calls the office staff had screened on her behalf. Although she’d worked on other wrongful conviction cases involving women, the timing of the note and the photo of the mansion tied it clearly to Anna. No one wanted to see this particular murder conviction overturned, because everyone was so damn sure the woman was guilty.

  Why couldn’t anyone understand the potential trouble of having the wrong person behind bars?

  The postcard wouldn’t have bothered her nearly as much if it had come to the office. Her home address wasn’t exactly well-known, but it was public record. She’d bought the condo in her own name, never imagining a time when someone would turn against her.

  Standing here wringing her hands wasn’t her style. She was being silly, letting herself be bullied by one piece of disturbing mail. She hadn’t reported it to the police, only her twin. Kiely understood she didn’t want to cause an upset when little could be done at this point. She had placed the card in a plastic bag labeled with the date and time it had arrived and locked it away in her safe with the other materials she was gathering on the case.

  Working against public opinion wasn’t fun, but it was the job. An attorney who took only popular clients would eventually get burned. There had been a few cases in her father’s career as district attorney when he’d made decisions that resulted in public backlash. No one appreciated lawyers, but at some point every person—even if only as part of a community—needed legal expertise or advice.

  She opened her mailbox and stuffed the correspondence into the side pocket of her briefcase without looking at it. Better to wrestle with anything unpleasant in the privacy of her condo than get upset here, where a neighbor might walk up and ask too many questions.

  Assuming, of course, her neighbors weren’t the ones sending nasty cards.

  She’d never taken much time to socialize. As one of six kids in the Colton family, Pippa had grown up with plenty of company on any given day and enjoyed her solitude now. She knew the other residents on her floor and wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’d sided with the rest of Grand Rapids against her decision to help Anna Wentworth. And with her current caseload she didn’t have much time to meet anyone.

  Her shoulder strap slipped as she climbed the stairs to the third floor, and she slowed to adjust the load. Although the elevator would have been easier, she wanted movement after the hours in the car. One of the perks of her building was the fitness center. She was considering a quick workout before the shower and wine as she tapped the code into her electronic door lock.

  The gears gave a soft whir and the dead bolt slid back.

  Home at last. The day’s frustrations started to dissolve as she crossed the threshold. She halted when the strange smell hit her. Bitter and powerful, the scent stung her nose. Wondering if she’d missed a message from maintenance about a repair, she set her briefcase and jacket down just inside the door.

  The lamp she’d left on low this morning was turned off. Uneasy, she reached for the light switch near the door. The overhead lamp in the entry came on, and the glow spilled out into the front room.

  “What in the world...”

  The strange odor was spray paint. She took a step closer to the vicious message scrawled across her wall in red: DO-GOODERS END UP DEAD.

  She couldn’t comprehend this. Who would have done this? Why? How? Her door had been secure. How had the vandal found a way inside?

  She turned in a circle, her temper rising. The threat and stench were bad enough. Her home had been searched. Ransacked. For a specific purpose or just to hurt her?

  At the other end of the hall, she heard a door open. Concerned, she shut her own front door quickly. She leaned back against the door, one hand still on the door handle, knowing better than to go forward and contaminate the scene.

  Now, when it was too late, it occurred to her she should have stopped on the other side of the door. What if the intruder was still here? She thought she was alone, but it was hard to hear anything over her pounding heart and the blood rushing through her ears.

  She nearly dropped her cell phone as she scrambled to pull it from her pocke
t. After two failed attempts to unlock it, she tapped in the nine and one before she stopped herself. Was this a true emergency? She wasn’t actually in immediate danger. Maybe better to just call her brother Riley. But that would wreck his evening. She started to dial the primary police line when she heard another sound in the service hallway.

  Anger and fear bounced through her system and jumbled her thoughts. Wishing she could avoid the inevitable chaos and questions, she pressed the three numbers into her phone and waited for the emergency operator to answer.

  Every second seemed to last forever until a woman with a firm voice was taking her information. Relaying her address and the situation, Pippa followed instructions, staying on the line as instructed while she exited the condo to meet the police downstairs.

  With each step away from her front door, her anger ratcheted higher. Someone had invaded her home, her private sanctuary, and caused havoc. Scrawled a threat across her wall. Had they just gotten lucky that she wasn’t home, or was someone keeping tabs on her? Would they have done worse if she’d been there?

  The note in her mailbox suddenly felt far more sinister.

  Assuring the operator she’d reached the front door and would not go back upstairs without police, she ended the call and quickly dialed her twin sister. If anyone could help her unravel this mess without any extra fuss, it was Kiely. She was one of the best freelance private investigators in the region. Highly sought after, she frequently worked with police, FBI and Colton Investigations, going wherever she was needed.

  Pippa needed her now, but once more she had to leave a message. She took a deep breath. Kiely was probably caught up with an urgent case elsewhere. Trying to calm herself, Pippa turned to watch the sunset. Days were getting shorter and cooler. Autumn was usually her favorite time of year, with the trees changing color and the college football season underway, but she was struggling to find anything restful in recent days.

  Her phone rang in her hand and she jumped. Irritated at being so flighty, she spoke sharply when she answered.

  “Easy, sis. You called me.”

  Kiely. Their connection steadied her, took some of the sting out of the lousy day.

  “Pippa? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Well, a little bit of everything,” Pippa admitted before she got control of herself. “I was hoping you could come by. Just for a few minutes.”

  “This is a bad time.” Kiely said with regret. “I’m sorry. I’m following a lead on Brody. Can you call Riley or Griffin?”

  “No worries,” Pippa replied brightly. She didn’t want to face either of her brothers tonight. Not while she was so rattled. “This can totally wait.” The case involving Brody was a much bigger priority. “Stay on that lead and track him down.”

  “Pippa? Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I swear I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  Flashing lights appeared at the end of her street. “Don’t worry, Kiely. It was just a bad day.”

  “All right,” her sister sounded less than convinced. “You can unload tomorrow afternoon when we deliver the materials for that seven o’clock appointment.”

  “Great.” She forced cheer that she didn’t feel into that single word. That didn’t give her a lot of time to get her house back in order. Tomorrow evening it was her turn to do her part for Brody and the investigation. It was the last thing on her mind right now, but she couldn’t admit that to her twin without raising more concerns. “Keep me posted.”

  * * *

  Detective Emmanuel Iglesias and his partner, Daniel Gomez, were heading back to the police station with burgers for a working dinner when they heard dispatch send officers to a possible home invasion. Recognizing the address, he felt a prickle of unease between his shoulder blades.

  “You mind if we drive over and check it out?” Emmanuel asked.

  Daniel shook his head. “Works for me. Saves the patrol a call if it’s serious.”

  “Right.” Emmanuel hoped it was a coincidence rather than something serious. He turned on the emergency lights and headed away from the station.

  “Want to tell me why it’s an issue?” Daniel asked.

  Emmanuel shrugged, shifting in his seat. “No issue.” Not definitely, at any rate. “A friend of mine has a sister living at that address.”

  “I’m in.” Daniel swiped a french fry out of the bag and then tipped it so Emmanuel could do the same.

  “Thanks.” He appreciated working with a man who wasn’t afraid of long hours and unexpected detours.

  They were only a few minutes away from the neighborhood, giving Emmanuel time to consider his approach. He might not approve of her newest client or agree with the hopes to overturn the conviction, but she had a reputation for being good at her job. All of the Colton siblings had a keen understanding of the law, thanks in part to being raised one of the best DAs to ever serve in Michigan.

  “So what’s her name?” Daniel queried in a voice that promised relentless teasing.

  “Philippa Colton,” Emmanuel replied.

  “Oh.” Daniel gave a low whistle. “Safe to assume she’s not your biggest fan. I guess you want me to do the talking?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Daniel made a snorting sound that might have been a laugh. “That we will.”

  Based on her serious demeanor in press conferences, he doubted she’d lay into him when she heard his name. Not with witnesses, at any rate. He had no intention of hassling her about her lousy taste in clients. He was only driving out to help at the request of her brother, but if she had an obvious problem with him, he’d leave.

  The responding patrol officers, Jeffries and Simmons, were already there when Emmanuel parked on the street in front of Pippa’s building and notified the station of their arrival.

  “Nice place,” Daniel said. “I’ve always liked this one.”

  Emmanuel agreed. The developers had restored the brickwork and kept the arched windows that made this building a favorite subject of photographers. The neighborhood had a low crime rate, despite its proximity to the city center, and this particular repurposing of an old factory had been met with full support from the community.

  The detectives joined the two officers speaking with Pippa on the sidewalk near the stately front entrance. She stood with perfect posture. Her briefcase strap crossed her trim body shoulder to hip, and a coat was draped over one arm. It was chilly enough tonight that she should be wearing that coat properly.

  Their paths hadn’t crossed often, but he’d always found her pretty and tonight was no exception. Her silky brown hair was down, skimming her shoulders and framing her face. Her big blue eyes were somber and there was no sign of the usual smile on her soft pink lips.

  The urge to step in and usher her away from the crisis hit him like a punch to the gut. He was supposed to keep an eye on her for Griffin, not get drawn in like a moth to flame.

  He caught the nervous gesture as her hands clutched her cell phone while she explained the situation. “I walked in and found my home trashed. Vandalized. That’s when I called you.”

  Her voice was flat, each word precise. Either she was processing things quickly or this was the first sign of shock. Her expression didn’t give anything away; that serious, sweet face could’ve owned a poker table in Vegas.

  Officer Jeffries, a slender woman with several years of police experience, seemed to be taking the lead. “You didn’t see anyone inside?” she asked.

  “No,” Pippa replied.

  Emmanuel watched as her gaze skimmed over his partner and locked onto him. Her eyebrows flexed into a frown, but in an instant, her face was a neutral, emotionless mask. Emmanuel wasn’t fooled. He’d been recognized.

  “Did you notice any problems at your door? Scratches on the lock or door jamb? Maybe your key didn’t work as well,” Jeffries continued.

 
“No problems,” Pippa said. “Everything appeared to be fine when I walked up.”

  “If you could lead the way,” Simmons suggested, opening the front door. He’d been on the force for as long as Emmanuel could recall. They were both good officers.

  Emmanuel and Daniel were likely overkill here, but he’d stick it out. The four of them followed her to the elevator in the lobby, and she pressed the button.

  “Did you take the elevator earlier?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped to him and the scowl returned. “No.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Daniel said, drawing her attention. “We’d prefer you followed your earlier footsteps.”

  Pippa checked with Jeffries and waited for her agreement before turning to the wide stairs and marching up the three flights. She stopped in front of her door. “I entered my code—” she pointed to the keypad “—and the lock opened without any trouble.”

  “Go ahead and unlock it again,” Jeffries suggested.

  Emmanuel couldn’t see anything out of place on or around the door and lock. “Miss Colton, you can change that code at any time, correct?”

  “Yes, of course.” Instead of a frown, she wrinkled her nose. “It was the smell that tipped me off first,” she said.

  The smell?

  The door swung open, and they all caught the unpleasant odor of fresh paint. Emmanuel expected her to step aside, but instead she walked in before Jeffries or Simmons could insist on taking the lead.

  “What did you do when you smelled the paint?” Officer Simmons asked.

  “I stopped right here and set down my briefcase and coat. My first thought was that maintenance had entered to make some repair. But then I turned on the light.”

  Daniel pushed a hand through his hair. “And you saw that.”

  “Yes.”

  All of them were staring at the threat scrawled across her wall. DO-GOODERS END UP DEAD.

  Pippa’s attitude was too cool for Emmanuel’s comfort. Granted, everyone dealt with shock in different ways, but victims of home invasion usually exhibited more fear or outrage or bafflement. Griffin warned him she was tough as nails, but smothering intense reactions could backfire. One more thing to watch for as he fulfilled his promise to her brother. “Pardon me if you’ve already answered this, but how long ago did you come home?”