Clowns and Cowboys (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 3) (5 page)

The hell he wasn’t. Of Sam. But she didn’t dare say that. She was too exhausted to get into a shouting match with him tonight, though that might come tomorrow.

“You’re jealous I got a case on my own,” she said instead. “That someone came to me.”

He gave her a knowing look that cut straight through her and turned away. “I’m simply pointing out that as a good investigator, I’m sure you’ll consider all possible angles.”

Fury buzzed around inside her brain like an angry bee. He was giving her a headache, pissing her off royally. But she forced in a breath and managed to keep the anger under control.

“You’re tired,” she said. “You need rest. Why don’t you take the bathroom first?”

He turned back and regarded her a long moment, as if he wanted to say something else, then thought better of it. “Very well.”

She took a few steps toward him and stopped. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up his toiletries.

Folding her arms, she gauged her next words. She was supposed to be in charge here, after all. She blew out a breath. “Really, Parker. I think for now you ought to stop being so cynical and give Sam the benefit of the doubt.”

He turned his head toward her and gave her a long, stony look as cold and deadly as an ice storm. “Forgive my suspicious nature, Miranda. It goes with my profession.”

His profession? His profession? It was her profession, too. Didn’t he think she was being “objective” enough? She opened her mouth about to say so, then fought back the rage.

Instead she spun away from him, stomped over to the window and stared out at Dallas at night. “We’re both exhausted. Let’s get ready for bed and get some sleep.”

He didn’t reply.

When she heard him stride away from her and shut the bathroom door, she knew he wasn’t going to. That stung worse than his words.

###

In the bathroom Parker leaned against the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

The bruise under his eye throbbed and his ribs ached like the devil. The pain was both a source of irritation and a reminder of how much his wife meant to him. A few weeks ago she had risked her life for him.

She would risk her life for anyone she felt loyal to, but in his case she’d gone beyond all expectation. He loved her for that. More than he ever had before. More than he’d ever thought possible. More than his own life.

And that was the trouble.

He’d never felt this way before. Never experienced the particular sensation he’d had when Sam Keegan greeted his wife tonight with a kiss. The image lingered in his mind, simmered with its stark brashness.

He most certainly was not jealous.

And it wasn’t Keegan’s bold gesture that had produced these feelings. No, it was Miranda’s reaction.

The glow on her face. The giddy smile on her lips. The joy that sparkled in her deep blue eyes at the sight of her old “friend,” at the sudden physical contact with him.

The kind of involuntary response that came from deep inside. The kind he thought only he could incite in her.

Friend, he thought again with a wry grimace.

Sam Keegan had certainly been more than that to her. Precisely how much more, he couldn’t say. But that glow told him they had once been lovers.

Miranda Steele had had a horrendous marriage and when he first met her, she’d made it crystal clear she wanted no part of a long-term relationship. She’d been too wounded, too angry for too many years. He’d had to move heaven and earth to make her change her mind, but he’d done it gladly and would do it again to win her.

They were meant for each other. He’d always known that.

So how could it be anything but a shock to suddenly discover she’d had a serious relationship with another man?

Not that it would make her do anything foolish now.

Miranda would never cheat on him, he was sure of that. He had nothing to worry about on that score. She had too much integrity, too much pride. She was a good woman. Tonight she’d treated Sam as she would any other client.

And of course he couldn’t hold it against her if she’d been intimate with the man long before they had met. If he did, he’d be more than a hypocrite. What really bothered him was that she hadn’t been honest with him about it.

No, there was something more than that.

He ran a hand over his beard and took out his razor. He turned it on and began to shave.

Perhaps it was not knowing the precise nature of their past relationship. How long had they been together? How serious had it gotten? If it had been trivial, certainly Miranda would not be so secretive about it.

What exactly was she hiding? Had she intended to marry this man? And if she had…

The bond he had with Miranda was deeper than he’d ever known. He’d felt it in the core of his soul the moment they’d met. They were alike. Kindred spirits, fighting the same fight, driven by the same feverish passion to avenge the innocent, the victim. And now with the consultation service they were more a unit than ever.

But what if her bond with Sam Keegan had been…not deeper, that was impossible…but different? And somehow more appealing? What if circumstances in her past had worked out differently?

Ah, that was it. That was what stuck in his craw.

He lowered the shaver and let it run as the revelation struck him like a straight arm punch.

Miranda might have been just as happy with Sam Keegan as she was with him.

He scowled at his reflection. That thought sounded petty even without stating it out loud.

Still, the idea festered in his heart. She had told him many times she’d found her destiny through him. She’d found a career more fulfilling than she’d ever dreamed possible. And love beyond belief. And when they were working together and everything came together it tasted like the strains of an impossibly sweet symphony. A feeling he’d never experienced before. He knew she felt it, too. He could see the exhilaration, the excitement on her lovely face. That arousing fire in her deep blue eyes.

And yet?

What if she had gone another route? What if she had settled down with someone like Keegan and had a different life? A safer life?

A life she wouldn’t have to risk so often?

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and drew a hand over his face. None of that mattered now. She was his. They’d taken the course they’d taken. They were where what they were. Who they were.

And just now they were in Dallas working for Miranda’s old lover.

No matter how much that fact might irk him, he was an investigator first and so was his wife. They would do their best on this case and leave it behind. That was that. Ruminations about the past would only get in the way. There was no sense letting himself be upset over mere imaginings. That would only draw out the process.

He wasn’t about to let that happen.

If Tupper Magnuson had died of natural causes, they would know by tomorrow afternoon and be on a flight out of this city by evening. But a vague suspicion that there had indeed been foul play gnawed at him along with Miranda’s relationship with their client.

He was annoyed that they might have to stay on. And that realization annoyed him further. It ran contrary to all his professional ethics. He didn’t drop murder cases just because he was irritated by the client. He would see this case out, no matter which way it went.

That was that.

Determining to put the irritation away for the night, he finished his shave, undressed and stepped into the shower.

The next morning Miranda wondered what Parker was up to when he treated her to a delicious huevos rancheros breakfast with extra hot peppers in the hotel restaurant. But she was relieved he was in a better mood. By the time she climbed into the silver gray sedan he’d rented and they took off, heading east down I-30, she felt like a team again.

The temperature was ninety-five and climbing, and she wished she could have worn shorts and a tank top. But she’d learned at the Agency how to dress like a professional, though the standard dress code would have been too formal for Dallas. So she had chosen a pair of dark jeans, a sleeveless blouse and a lightweight jacket. Parker was in his designer jeans, a casual shirt and a blazer of deep gray that made his eyes look fierce. She was glad he could dress down a bit and hoped he’d be more comfortable.

“I did some research on Under the Big Top this morning,” he told her as he braked for the big semi in front of them.

“And here I thought you were ordering me jewelry,” she teased.

He’d been up and dressed and working on his laptop at the desk when she woke this morning. She was glad he was on board with this case now. After their “discussion” last night.

Crap like that would only hurt their investigation, especially since she was the one in charge.

She knew it was hard for Parker to step aside and let her make the decisions. He wasn’t used to being second in command. But he’d done so graciously and patiently—for the most part—on their cases together so far. She appreciated his respect for her abilities and only wanted to live up to his expectations. And her own.

She didn’t need the melodrama of current husband versus old flame.

Her remark got a smile from him. “Under the Big Top or UBT Inc. was founded seven years ago by Paxton Tenbrook, who is also its current owner.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Paxton Tenbrook? Sounds like a real highbrow.”

“Actually, he was raised by parents of modest means outside Houston. By all accounts he doesn’t put on airs.”

“Okay.” She’d believe that when she saw the guy.

“Tenbrook went to Texas A&M for a few years then dropped out to become a rodeo clown.”

“Has something in common with his performers.”

Parker nodded. “Yes. He spent six years with the rodeo, then went to Hollywood and became a stunt man. Apparently he was in high demand but after about four years into that career, he was injured diving off a wall into flames.”

“Gutsy guy.”

“He seems to be. That was when he started UBT. He built the business slowly. It hasn’t been until this year that he’s come into some media coverage. There was a lot of publicity when the circus came to Dallas three weeks ago. In an interview he stated he wants to make UBT bigger than the Big Apple and Ringling Brothers.”

“Ambitious dude.”

“He said it has always been his dream to build something special where people can see performances they can’t anywhere else.”

Sounded like he liked the attention. Probably knew every detail of his performers’ lives, at least the top ones. He might know where Layla was. “Tenbrook would be one to talk to.”

Parker nodded. “He should definitely be on our list.”

They fell silent. Miranda’s thoughts buzzed around in her head while the A/C blasted blessedly away and Parker continued to steer them through the heavy morning traffic.

She was glad he seemed back to himself after their near fight last night. They hadn’t even made love after she got out of the shower, though they’d had to do some improvising in that area lately, what with Parker recovering from injuries. But last night it had been more bruised egos than bruised ribs that had them falling asleep after nothing more than a goodnight kiss.

She hoped he’d conquered the green-eyed monster inside him.

###

After about forty-five minutes they got off the highway and drove a short distance through an industrial area to a spot littered with long beige brick buildings.

They turned in at a sign reading “Dallas Police Department” and found their way to the most promising looking one. They found a parking spot, stepped out and into the hot, dry air, and went inside.

They made their way down a long hall lined with cop memorials on one side and wanted posters on the other until they reached a central desk where a female clerk in white shirt and badge was answering the phone.

“Can I help you?” she asked hanging up on someone that seemed to have annoyed her. As she turned to them for a moment her gaze fixated on Parker and her lips spread into a gooey grin. Not an uncommon reaction for most women.

Miranda cleared her throat and since she was the one in charge, spoke up. “Yes, you can. My name is Miranda Steele and this is my partner, Wade Parker. We’re from the Parker Investigative Agency in Atlanta, and we’ve been hired to look into the death of Tupper Magnuson.”

The woman blinked at her as if she’d spoken in Chinese. The phone rang again. “Excuse me.” She raised a finger in the air and answered the call. “That’s right,” she said sweetly after a moment. “Just past the highway. You’re very welcome.” She hung up again.

“I’m sorry. We had a gang shooting last night and we’re shorthanded.”

“No problem.”

The woman frowned as if trying to remember where she was. “Who did you want to see?”

“The person in charge of investigating the death of Tupper Magnuson.”

The woman cocked her head in another you’re-speaking-a-foreign-language look. “Who?”

“He was employed by Under the Big Top. The circus that’s been here several weeks? He was a clown.”

“Oh, right. I remember that incident. Night before last?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see.” She turned to her computer, punched in some keystrokes, waited. Before she turned back to them, she had paged through several screens and answered two more phone calls. “Here you go,” she said at last. “Detective Underwood is handling that case.”

“Is he in?”

“She. I’m not sure. They don’t check in with me. But if she is, she’d be in the hive.”

“Hive?”

She waved over her shoulder. “It’s right down that corridor. Make a left and it’s on the right. Unit C. You’ll see the sign.”

Miranda’s brows shot up. No, “I’m sorry, you can’t go down there?” No, “The police don’t work with private investigators?” She gave Parker a glance of concern.

He nodded down the hall as if to say, “Let’s go with it.”

So she did.

“That was just too easy,” she muttered to him as they headed down the hall the woman had indicated.

“The desk clerk was new. She must have assumed we’re with the government.”

“Works for me,” she shrugged, though she was a little annoyed with herself for not picking up that the woman was a new hire. Parker was in fine form today.