Controlling Interest (3 page)

“Daddy!” Natalie's voice rose on an excited squeak. “You didn't tell me you own a detective agency!”

“That's because it's none of your business,” Matt said, frowning. “It's my company. I started it, and I run it. Your dad's just the — the CFO.”

“I have legal controlling interest, which means I hold the purse strings. And here's what you're going to do if you want River City Investigations to stay in the Yellow Pages. You're going to find Yasmine Patel and bring her back for her wedding.”

Matt considered himself a fairly phlegmatic sort of guy. And then there was the whole giving-his-life-to-God thing. He gripped the edge of the table. “You're not my boss, Tubberville,” he said quietly. “You can't tell me what to do.”

Tubberville leaned back, flicking his napkin open as the waitress appeared with a loaded tray. “I just did.”

“Daddy, let me!” Natalie's eyes were wide, hands clasped under her chin.

“Let you what?” Tubberville's gaze slid to Matt. The tension in the atmosphere was as thick as the odor of barbecue pork and onion rings.

“Let me find her. I'm a trained detective. For goodness' sake, I have a degree!”

Matt snorted. “In what? Cosmetology?”

Natalie's translucent skin flushed from her collarbone to her hairline. “I'll have you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “I graduated
magna cum laude
from the University of Memphis with a degree in criminal justice. I've been working for the sheriff's department down in Tunica for the past two years, and I passed the detective's exam last week.”

“Is that right?” Matt grinned. “Well, maybe you
should
go looking for the sultan's daughter — especially since you're the one who lost her!”

“Now wait just a minute — ”

“Hold on, you two.” Tubberville patted his daughter's wrist. “Take a deep breath, honey.”

Matt looked from one to the other. Signing over a major portion of his agency to Tubberville had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now — not so much. “Suppose I do go looking for this girl. Are you going to pay my expenses?”

“I won't have to. Abid Patel will pay a chunk of change to get his daughter back. From what Natalie says, we don't know if Yasmine left on her own or if she was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Matt frowned. “Why don't you just bring in the police?”

“Because it's a touchy situation. Abid has enemies and allies all over the Middle East. We alert the authorities, and we risk getting the feds involved with what could be just a family scandal. Until we know why Yasmine left, Abid wants to keep it a private search.”

“You mean the guy already knows his daughter's missing?” Matt shook his head. This ball of yarn just kept getting more snarled.

Tubberville nodded grimly. “He knows. And he's not happy.”

Natalie shook her father's hand off her wrist. “It
is
my fault. I'm going to find her.” She set her chin, and the soft lips quivered.

Playing the femininity card. Matt's sympathy dissolved. “This is a professional investigation. I don't think the Tunica Sheriff's Department is going to want to let go of their secretary.”

“You are an insufferable pig.” Her eyes blazed like peridots under a jeweler's lamp. “But I'm going to assume you're upset and ignore you.” She turned to her father. “Dad, look, I know I can find her. I'm a woman, and I can figure out how she'll think. Besides — ” she glared at Matt — “I actually care.”

Tubberville leaned back as the waitress put a plate of ribs in front of him. “Maybe you're right. It might be effective to have a woman working on the case too. What do you think, Hogan?”

“I think — what — what do you mean, what do I think? I think you're crazy.” Matt wanted to howl with laughter. He was supposed to work with a little girl who looked like Gidget and —
magna cum laude
or not — seemed to have the attention span of an ADHD flea?

Tubberville picked up a slab of ribs dripping with sauce. “Well, it doesn't matter what you think after all. It's my company. Or rather, mine and Natalie's. I bought it with the intention of setting her up to be your partner and giving her twenty-five percent if she decides she likes it. So work with her or take your agency into bankruptcy — and I'll hire another PI to find Yasmine.”

CHAPTER
TWO

N
atalie felt her mouth drop open. “Daddy, are you serious?” Matt Hogan put his hands in his hair. “Tubberville, you can't give away my company to a
girl
!”

But the jail door had just swung open, and Natalie wasn't about to let it clang shut in her face again. After two years in the Tunica County Sheriff's Department, she was profoundly aware of the triple strikes of youth, femininity, and blonde hair — and bulldog determined to overcome all three.

Who did this guy Matt Hogan think he was? Maybe she'd experienced a light-headed moment at that big flashing grin, but she knew better than to trust her hormones. Forrest Gump's mama had it right. You could count on every box of chocolates hiding at least one slimy cherry-surprise center, no matter how delectable the outside might look.

“Girl?” she said politely, staring into Matt Hogan's incredulous hazel eyes. “There are no girls here. There's only me — a woman who now owns twenty-five percent of your agency. I suggest you play nice.”

“Play nice?” he echoed. “Play
nice?
” He pressed his lips together, revealing a couple of deep dimples. She could see the cogs spinning in his brain. This was not a stupid man. Finally he shrugged and stood up, dropping his napkin onto the sticky pile of ribs in front of him. “My best friend just married the chief justice of the Alabama Supreme Court, so we'll see how long this cockeyed deal holds up. I suggest
you
take your Barbies back to Tunica, or wherever you came from, and let me take care of my agency.”

“My Barbies — ”

“Thanks for dinner, Eddie — ” Hogan nodded at Natalie's dad — “but I'm not hungry anymore. I'll start interviewing people at the airport tomorrow and see if I can find your girl.” He smirked at Natalie. “The
other
girl.”

Daddy calmly wiped barbecue sauce off his chin. “Hate to tell you this, bud, but you don't have the case without my ‘other' girl.”

“Then I don't need it. I'm outta here.”

By the time Natalie found her tongue, Hogan was halfway across the restaurant, headed for the door.

Daddy chuckled. “I like that boy.”

“How can you say that? Did you hear that condescending, chauvinistic tone of voice? Did you see the way he looked at me?”

“He looked at you the same way every male outside the family has looked at you since you turned twelve.”

“That's what I mean. Nobody takes me seriously.”

Daddy didn't look the least sympathetic. “Then you'll just have to prove him wrong. Beat him to the punch.”

“You mean find Yasmine first?” Natalie sat up straight.

“There's a pretty good incentive. Abid is offering a finder's fee of fifty grand.”

“Fifty-
thousand
? Dollars? Holy schmoly. I could buy out your part of the agency with that!”

“Not quite,” Daddy said dryly. “But at least you could afford the insurance on your car.”

“I told you I'd pay you back — ”

“Never mind, I'm just kiddin' you, sweetheart. Use the money for whatever you want. Now are you going to quit that dead-end job in Casino Royale, Mississippi? Move home and quit burning up the road?”

Despite her irritation with a certain pig-brained private investigator, Natalie felt like dancing around the room. “I'll go home and type up my resignation as soon as we finish eating. Just wait 'til I tell Mom.” She cut a piece of meat off a bone with her knife and fork.

“How's your mama doing these days?” Daddy casually picked up his glass and slurped.

Natalie gave him a sharp look. “Busy as ever. Why?”

“I just happened to remember it's her birthday this weekend. You might tell her I wish her a happy fiftieth.”

Her parents had been divorced for fifteen years, but neither of them forgot birthdays or anniversaries. Natalie had no basis for comparison, of course, but that always struck her as a little abnormal.

“Why don't you tell her yourself? She'd be glad to hear from you.”

“Oh, I don't know.” Daddy's florid complexion turned even redder. “She never had time for me, even when we were married.”

“She asked about you the other day.” What her mother had said was, “Tell your dad if he can't pay Nick and Nina's tuition next semester, I'm going to pull them out and send them to UT Knoxville, where they can get my alumni scholarship.” Natalie saw no need to stir up bad blood.

Daddy took the bait. “Did she now?” He looked pleased. “Think I'll give her a call tonight.”

Natalie's romantic heart melted into a puddle. Her father was still in love with her mother.
Aw. Lord, you could work that thing out, if you had a mind to.

Too bad her own love life stunk like week-old cabbage.

The attractive crooked smile of Matt Hogan flashed through her brain.
Oh, no you don't
, she told herself sternly.
We are not going there.

He was Some Pig.

Oink.

“Matthew Hogan, you are a certified pig,” said Tootie Sheehan. His landlady stood in his kitchen door, holding an apple pie in one hand and a mop in the other. Ethel Mertz on steroids.

Matt, sitting at the table inhaling a bowl of Special K, glanced at the pile of dishes overflowing the sink and at the trash can stuffed with empty TV dinner boxes and discarded junk mail. He hadn't been home for nearly three months except to eat and sleep. And he'd been out of town a good chunk of that time, hanging out with his parents in northern Illinois.

“If it bothers you, Tootie, you can stay downstairs.” Matt punched a button on the laptop in front of him to launch his email program. He pretended to ignore the domestic diva's glare.

Nostrils flared and mop brandished, she advanced into the room and set the pie on the counter. “I should take this pie back downstairs and feed it to the dog.”

“Don't you dare.” Matt turned in alarm. “He already waddles like a pregnant hippo.”

“Now there's a visual to keep you awake at night.” Tootie looked over Matt's shoulder. “Speaking of pregnant, have you written to your sister since she had the baby?”

“I called her last night.” Matt closed the email program and shut the laptop. “How did you know she had a baby?”

“I saw the sack from Babies ‘R' Us in the backseat of your car. Unless there's something you're not telling me, I figured it had to be for Cicely.”

“Why don't you come to work for me? You're a better snoop than any PI I ever met.”

“Is that a compliment?” Tootie grinned at him, throwing a web of wrinkles into play at the corners of her shoe-button brown eyes. “Retired school teachers are the most observant folks on the planet.”

“I suppose you'd have to be.” Matt got up to hunt through the dishes in the sink for a fork. “I ate all my cereal. Can I have this for dessert?” The smell of cinnamon and fruit and sugar steamed through the pie's beautiful lattice-work crust. There definitely was a God.

“Baby, you can do whatever you want to with it.” Tootie pointed the mop. “But first you better shovel out this mess before that pretty girl downstairs gets to your office. Otherwise she might never come back.”

“What pretty girl?”

“Little blonde with one of those funky choppy haircuts? I didn't know you had a partner. You've lived and worked in my building for six months now. You'd think something like that would come up in conversation.”

Matt froze in the act of scooping pie into a marginally clean saucer. He'd considered just eating it out of the tin, but Tootie's gimlet eye was on him. “I don't have a partner. Well, Natalie's dad is technically my partner, and he's got some crazy idea about giving her twenty-five percent of his share, but — ” He stopped himself. Tootie had a way of eliciting information he never intended to part with. “She's not my partner, and she's never going to see the inside of my apartment.”

“Natalie, huh? Suits her.”

“I'll tell you what her name ought to be.” Matt stuffed a bite of flaky, gooey crust into his mouth. “T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I can't believe she had the nerve to show up here. Guess she told you she's got a degree in criminal justice. Like that's supposed to make her Magnum P.I.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Definitely should have started with his quiet time this morning, instead of email. Not even eight o'clock, and already he was in a tailspin.

“I'm sure she's a lot smarter than you give her credit for.” Too-tie backed toward the door. “I've got to get to mass. Just wanted to tell you to put on a clean tie for your partner — visitor, whatever she is. Don't forget to put that pie in the fridge, if you want it to last.”