Dangerous Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries Book 4) (11 page)

I held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Jamie."

He shook mine and Caleigh's hands. "I'm Roy."

Red Roy? Of course he was.

"Are you joining our group?" he asked.

I laughed. "No, we were passing by and saw all of this. What does your group do? Are you training for something?"

"No, this is just for fun."

"Fun?" Caleigh asked. "You think nearly dying is a sport?"

Red Roy chuckled. "It can be dangerous, but that's all the fun. This is called free running, but I also do parkour."

"I've heard that word before, but I don't know what it is," I said.

"It's similar to this, but it's basically getting around as quickly and efficiently as possible. So it involves jumping over a flight of stairs rather than walking down it. Vaulting over a wall rather than climbing. Stuff like that."

"Why?" Caleigh asked.

"It's fun." He smiled again.

If he said so. I preferred my feet firmly on the ground.

"And these others do parkour as well?" I asked.

He nodded. "A few of them."

"What about the one in purple? She seems pretty fast." I pointed even though Penny had disappeared again.

Red Roy squinted, and when Penny came into view back on the third floor, he grinned. "Penny? No, she doesn't. She's a spitfire though. She's in her fifties yet can outrun all of the younger girls and half the guys. She used to be a track star in high school and college, and she runs in every marathon within driving distance." He chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Caleigh asked.

"Penny once told me that everyone thought she was a little old lady who loved to bake and knit but that she hated sitting still."

Well, she'd definitely keep Mr. Henderson on his toes.

We hung around the abandoned building long enough to catch a few minutes with Penny. She was just like Red Roy had said—a spitfire. I didn't know what Mrs. Henderson saw in Penny Samson when they'd first met, but the woman Caleigh and I spoke with swore like a sailor and didn't stand still. Also like Red Roy had said, she jogged in place the whole three minutes we got her alone. By the time she had to go, I was exhausted. In my humble opinion, I couldn't see her and Mr. Henderson together.

As Caleigh and I drove back to the office, my cell rang. Caleigh turned it on to speakerphone.

"Jamie? It's Apple," said a strong Valley Girl accent.

Excitement rushed through me. She had to have good news. She wouldn't have bothered calling if she had nothing. I tried to not sound like a kid eagerly awaiting Halloween and a night full of candy-induced stomachaches. "Hey, did you find out anything?"

"Yep. Turns out Sunshine knows something about the wrap guy."

I glanced to Caleigh. "Is she at the club now?"

"Yep. She goes on stage in an hour."

I jerked the wheel and made a U-turn right in the middle of midday traffic. Thank goodness there were no cars nor cops in the immediate area. Caleigh giggled, and I wasn't sure if it was due to the excitement of getting a lead or swinging through the street.

"We're on our way," I shouted while nearly missing the curb.

The universe must've been smiling down on us, because we didn't hit traffic the entire way. I parked in The Spotted Pony parking lot, shooting only a cursory glance at Lite Wraps as we hurried inside.

This time the new bartender gave me a nod of recognition. I felt so honored.

The stage was empty, as were all the tables except one. An older man with a potbelly was slumped in his chair, his chin resting on his chest. Maybe he was napping until the next show. A glass of amber-colored liquor sat on the table in front of him. The bartender must not have minded the man being half asleep as long as he was a paying customer, but I didn't doubt that the owner would mind, if he knew.

Candy stood near the entrance to the back of the club and waved us over to the side of the stage.

Apple and another dancer hovered beside Candy. Today, Candy and Apple were dressed in matching pink silk robes—they must've been getting ready to go on stage soon. The other woman looked vaguely familiar. I wasn't accustomed to hanging out in The Spotted Pony, but I'd been by enough times to speak with Candy and Apple that some of the newer dancers' faces had made an impression. And this woman—brunette, five ten, dressed in a white boa, white cowboy boots, and matching white miniskirt and bikini top with sparkling rhinestones—was hard to miss. Especially with the white rhinestone-studded Stetson in her hand. If the rumors were correct and she was pregnant, she definitely wasn't showing. Her belly looked tight enough to bounce a quarter off of it.

"This is Sunshine," Candy said. "She knows the wrap guy."

"Hi, I'm Jamie. What do you know about Mr. Jenkins?"

The woman blinked and looked to Apple. She had a deer-in-headlights expression on her face.

Apple nodded and nudged her with her elbow. "It's okay. Jamie's good people. You can trust her."

Sunshine cleared her throat gently and said, "He was here the day the Hoagies guy was killed."

"Are you sure?" Caleigh asked.

Sunshine smirked. "Absolutely. I was giving him a private lap dance, and he let it slip that he not only knew the famous Hoagies guy, Roger Claremont, but he was going to see him later that day."

Very interesting.

"How do you know it was the day Roger Claremont was killed?" I asked.

"That night, when I got off work, I heard about the murder on the car radio. It stuck with me because the wrap guy had just said his name."

Caleigh looked to me with a
gotcha
smile.

I wasn't ready to take out the Dom Pérignon just yet. While I wanted to believe we'd uncovered the real killer, I wasn't sure what Jenkins's motive would be. He needed Roger alive to get any money he'd be awarded from the court case. But I'd definitely felt like he was hiding something. Maybe the slimeball had another reason to want Roger dead. I wondered if that meant Slimeball Jr. was lying about Senior's alibi.

We started to head back to the agency, and my stomach grumbled. That was definitely a cry for help, so I drove to the nearest Hoagies—the one that Roger used to eat at. Caleigh's eyes lit up as I parked. "I hope you don't mind," I said. "I could use a bite."

"Not at all. Ever since I started eating Hoagies, I feel so much better already."

"Do you? I haven't noticed any difference." I pulled open the heavy glass door.

Caleigh lowered her voice as we stepped inside. "Maybe that's 'cause you're also trying to gain world peace with your attitude at the same time. I firmly believe in making one life change at a time."

She had a point, but it wasn't as if there was much heavy lifting involved in eating sandwiches. You ate them, and if they made you feel better, that was their job.

"So you feel better how?" I asked and looked up to the menu. I didn't know why I bothered reading it though, since I already knew I wanted the Roger sub.

"Like mentally. I just know I'm doing the right thing for my body."

Kinda like Penny Samson but less dangerous.

We each ordered the same as last time we shared a Hoagies lunch, and took the table by the front window. It wasn't long before we were moaning and sighing with our mouths full. When we reached the midway point of our subs, we each took a deep breath and sipped our sodas. Inhaling Hoagies sandwiches for lunch was becoming our thing, for Caleigh and me. Thank goodness they were diet food.

"So what do we think about Jenkins?" Caleigh asked.

"I think I'd like to know why he told Sunshine he was seeing Roger the day he was killed," I said, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

"You think he really was?" she asked. "I mean, he could have just been trying to impress her."

I nodded. Unfortunately, that seemed like exactly the kind of thing he'd do. "Maybe," I agreed. "But he still lied about being at his store all day."

"I hate to point this out," Caleigh said, "but lots of guys lie about being at strip joints."

I sighed. "I know. I know. Just because he's a slimeball doesn't mean he's a murderer."

"Should we go talk to him? Like, maybe we could do a Lite Wraps dinner?"

I shook my head. "I didn't get a very cooperative vibe from him, so I doubt he'll break down and confess." And oh…there was nothing on earth that would make me eat that stuff. "Besides, I've, uh, got plans tonight."

"Oooo…what kind of plans?" Caleigh asked, sitting up straighter in her seat. "Like a date?"

I bit my lip. "Kinda."

"With Aiden?"

I cleared my throat. "No. Danny." A bite of sandwich lodged in my throat. I reached for my soda. When I glanced up, Caleigh was chewing and giving me the stink eye. "What?" I asked.

"You don't look thrilled."

I shrugged, not sure how to put my feelings into words and not sure if I wanted to. "What about you? How's your love life?"

She grinned. "Fine, we'll change the subject, and my love life is currently pitiful. Why is it that every guy either ends up having some weird foot fetish or still living at home, having Mommy make his bed?"

"Maybe they're just saving money. The economy is hard."

She shook her head. "Or maybe they just can't function without a woman taking care of them. That may have sounded great when I was twenty, but now at the ripe old age of"—she paused—"a
little
older than twenty, I want an independent man. Is that too much to ask for?"

I smiled. "Not at all." I rolled up my sandwich wrapper into a ball and sipped on the last of my drink.

Caleigh leaned back in her seat and tugged on the waistband of her black pants. "I don't understand why these feel tighter. I've been eating all this diet food." She pointed to her own empty wrapper.

"Maybe they just shrunk in the dryer," I said.

"Yeah, that's probably it."

We threw away our trash and went out to the car.

When we walked into the agency, Maya was tapping away on the keyboard of a laptop I didn't recognize.

"Is that Roger's?" I asked.

Maya nodded. "A messenger just delivered it," she said without looking up. Whatever she was working on, she was in the zone, and I knew better than to interrupt.

Sam sat on one of the reception-area chairs and fiddled with Julio's phone. The charger was still stuck into the end of the phone in one direction and in the wall in the other, which suggested Sam had gotten tired of waiting for a full charge before taking a peek.

Caleigh filled the others in on our findings. "We found out that the wrap guy, Jenkins, probably lied about his alibi. And that he said he was going to meet Roger the day he was killed."

"At least according to Sunshine at The Spotted Pony," I added.

Maya and Sam didn't respond. They didn't even twitch. It was as if they hadn't heard us, too preoccupied with their toys.

Caleigh shrugged and headed to the restroom. "I have to tinkle."

"So how about those Dodgers?" I asked, seeing what it would take to get a reaction from Sam and Maya. Anyone who knew me knew I had zero interest in sports. Neither of them budged.

I tried again. "I saw a UFO on the drive over. The aircraft landed right in the middle of the street, and six miniature aliens hopped out."

Nothing.

"They said they want to drain our planet of water, and considering California's been in a drought since the beginning of time, I thought it was kinda funny they'd land here."

Not a blip.

"And then after making the earth a dry oasis, they want to have sex with us."

Sam glanced up. "Huh?"

I grinned. She, evidently, needed to get some.

"Yes!" Maya shouted and beamed an
I'm amazing and you'll want to give me a raise
smile.

"Whatcha got?" I stepped closer to her desk.

This made her smile even more. "Roger loaned a lot of money to Heavy Cash."

"Really?" My palms grew itchy, and my Charlie's Angels radar beeped. "How much?"

"Fifty grand."

Whoa. That was a hefty loan. That must've been some friendship. "Any idea what Heavy needed that kind of money for?"

"According to this, it looks like it was to finance his latest single and music video," Maya said. "The loan is past due and not repaid."

I walked around her desk and stared at the laptop's monitor. "Where are you getting this from? Are all of Roger's financials on there?"

"No. I didn't find anything about his insurance or bank statements, and I haven't figured out how to hack into his bank account. I'm sure Caleigh can."

Caleigh could hack into the Pentagon. I felt an overwhelming surge of pride for my girls.

Maya tapped the screen. "I got the loan details from Roger's email. See?" She pointed to the middle of her screen. "It refers to the loan, 'Money Fo' My Hos.'"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam's head snap up. "Wait. What did you say?"

Maya repeated the ridiculous and offensive title.

Sam rushed over and shoved Julio's phone in our faces. "There's a reference to 'Money Fo' My Hos' on his phone." A slight blush crawled up her neck. "I skimmed over it, thinking Julio was just lonely and paying for it these days."

I smiled on the inside but kept my professional expression on. "Show me."

Sam flipped through the phone until she found it and handed the cell over.

The restroom door squeaked open, and Caleigh walked out.

On the cell, there was a text sent to Julio's phone. But there was no caller information other than a number. "Where is the 702 area code?" I asked.

Caleigh stepped over to us. "That's Las Vegas."

That Charlie's Angels radar was beeping loudly again.

"That's interesting, considering Heavy Cash is in Vegas right now," I said.

The girls stared at me.

"What does this mean?" Maya asked.

I smiled. "It means we're going on a Vegas road trip."

*   *   *

The four of us agreed to go home, pack, and meet back at the office in an hour. We were going to carpool in the agency's largest SUV. I wasn't crazy about driving the beast, since it felt like steering Derek's houseboat compared to my Roadster, but we wouldn't all fit comfortably in any of our cars.

I was lucky enough to miss traffic on the way home, though as soon as I got there, I stared at my empty luggage, not certain what to pack. I expected we'd only be there for the night, two at the most, but I wasn't sure what we'd get into. So I decided to go with something casual—white capris, a light-blue tank, and sandals—and something business casual—a black skirt and blouse—and a black cocktail dress and heels 'cause a little black dress worked for any occasion. I added in a pair of jeans, shorts, and T-shirt to sleep in, undergarments, and a white cardigan in case it got chilly at night. At the last second, I reached for something slinky too—a royal blue, midthigh halter dress with a V-neckline so deep I had to tape my boobs in place, and a side slit just high enough to not look hoochie. Oh, who was I kidding? It was 100 percent hoochville. But we
were
going to Vegas.