In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (37 page)

“
Wha
,
wha
.”

“I see.” Mo tried to look at the guy and feign an expression of interest. Then she concentrated on the pad and scribbled a few words as if taking notes. What had she written? Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross, Ross.

Mo ripped the page off the pad and turned it face down. She leaned forward in the chair and concentrated on the client.

The man, probably in his late thirties, was distinguished by a distinct overbite that included front teeth of such an unusual length that he couldn’t avoid a strong resemblance to a rabbit. The teeth also seemed responsible for a speech impediment that created an inordinately large number of “f” sounds in his sentences.

“I really think I’m cursed,” the client
said,
with the “
th
” in think sounding like an “f”, along with the “s” in cursed. “I mean there is no other explanation for my wife’s cheating.”

“So you want our agency to find out if your wife is cheating on you?”

The bunny –
er
man’s – brows converged in a frown. “No. Haven’t you been listening?”

Mo straightened defensively. “Of course I have. I just want to clarify. You want our agency to get proof of
who
your wife is cheating with?”

“No, of course not. I know she’s sleeping with my business partner. She admitted it. I said that when I first came in.” He half stood and then leaned over the desk. “You weren’t listening to a word I was saying, were you?”

“Yes, I was. But you must admit that your
situation
is a little unusual. I’m having a hard time with the
concepts
you’re talking about.”

The bunny bought that explanation and sat back in his chair with a muttered “
ofay
” for acknowledgement.

“Why don’t you just tell me exactly what you want our agency to do for you?”

“I want you to find out who put the curse on me—wizard, witch, warlock, voodoo priestess, whoever it was—and get it removed.”

“Let me get this straight. You believe that you have been literally cursed.”

“I don’t know about
literal
because I can still read and write just fine. It’s the romance department where I’ve been cursed.”

“Uh huh.” Mo resisted the urge to place compression on the sudden pounding at her right temple. “And in what way precisely have you been cursed?”

“It’s
Jimbo
.”

This was getting even more confusing. Was she supposed to know who
Jimbo
was? “What about
Jimbo
?”

The client’s face flooded with a reddish hue. “
Jimbo
is gone.
Jimbo
has taken a vacation.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Mo had to risk the question. “Who is
Jimbo
?”

“He’s my-
er
-equipment.”

Understanding dawned. “Oh you’re impotent.”

“Hell no. I’m a man all right.
Jimbo’s
not working because I’ve been cursed. You see. I had this fling with my secretary and my wife found out. Anyway, she hired somebody to curse
Jimbo
and he hasn’t been on the job since then. He looks just fine. Nothing’s wrong with him except the curse. I can show you if you want.” He stood and put his hands to his zipper.

Mo had visions of the bunny whipping his carrot out for a demonstration, and leaped to her feet. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Harry would pay for this.

“You stay right where you are. I’ll be right back.” Striding out of the office, Mo made her way through the reception area and then to
Harry’s
door, which she almost threw open.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“What do you mean?” her boss asked.

Mo’s explanation had Harry roaring with laughter. “I had no idea.” Harry wiped the joy moisture from her eyes.

“What the jalapeño do I do with him?”

“Tell him we’ll look into it. In a few days, tell him we’ve found the voodoo priestess and the curse has been lifted. Then give him the name of
a
urologist and tell him to call and ask for some little blue pills.
Ol
'
Jimbo
will be back to work in no time.”

“Great.”

The old fashioned black phone on
Harry’s
desk rang.

“Dang that Clarence.” Mo’s boss snatched up the receiver before the bell fell silent. “Incredible Love,” Harry grumbled. “It’s you. When are you going to get yourself back to work, young man?”

Harry glanced up at Mo. “Yes, she’s right here.” The boss held the receiver up. “It’s Clarence. He wants to talk to you.” Covering the mouthpiece Harry whispered, “You have my permission to fire him if you want to.”

 That’s good since Mo was fairly certain she’d already fired him earlier that day. Glowering at the phone as if it were the person on the other end of the line, Mo tentatively took the offering and held it to her ear.

“Just give me one reason why I should talk to you after what you pulled earlier,” Mo said.

“No logical reason.” Clarence’s voice was faint. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I was afraid, I guess.”

The little turnip did sound pitiful. Mo felt herself melting, but then the memory of Ross’s accusations steeled her. “That’s just not good enough, Clarence. What’s going on?”

“It all started when I fell in love with someone.”

“Heather. Ross’s Heather?” Mo asked.

“No. Her sister.”

“Her sister? Who’s her sister?”

“She’s married to…
somebody.…
to get money," Clarence began. "I tried to blackmail
Kubikov
, but he won’t pay. Anyway, my girl doesn’t really love me. She was just here and she hates me now. She thinks her husband knows about us.” There was silence from the other end. “Listen, this is awkward over the phone. If you’ll come over to my apartment, I’ll tell you everything. I can’t come to you. I don’t think I was followed home, but they might see me if I leave here again.”

“Who
is
they?
Kubikov
and
Gigantor
?”

“I’m sorry, Mo,” Clarence said. “It’s my fault. I created a mess by pretending to be Stephen Dagger.”

“You certainly did.” Mo gritted her teeth to keep more insults from flying. “Did you have to make it appear to Ross that I was lying to him about the car thing?”

“I can only say I’m sorry,” Clarence said. “I just didn’t want to look like a
turd
to a guy who’s been my idol.

“Yeah, so you made me look like one,” she grumbled. “What are you going to do about all this?”

“I tried to clean up the mess I made,” Clarence offered.

“By blackmailing a Russian mobster? That only made things worse.”

“I know, I know. I did it all for her and now I realize she didn’t really love me. She said we needed money to begin our life together.”

“Again I ask, by blackmailing a Russian mobster? Are you crazy?”

“Okay," he admitted. "It wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He sounded genuinely scared. “You’ve got to call the police, Clarence. These guys are dangerous. You could get hurt. If someone’s
gonna
hurt you it’s
gonna
be me, mister,” she said trying to joke.

Clarence laughed half-heartedly on the other end. Then he fell silent for long moments. When he spoke again his voice was choked. “I was so obsessed with my love for this woman, I would’ve done anything she wanted me to.”

Mo heard a clatter in the background. “Maybe Betsy’s come back,” he said.

“Betsy?”

“She's
Kubikov’s
wife,” Clarence said.

“You’re having an affair with his wife
and
blackmailing him?” Mo shouted. “Don’t go to the door, it might be the mobster’s goons.”

“You’re right,” Clarence whispered. “I’m going to hide until you get here. Hurry.”

* * * * *

Mo ran from the building and sprinted for her Mini parked across the square. As she got closer, with the trees and the monuments of the square behind her, she spotted Milton leaning against the hood.

“Get your aspartame off my car, you parasite.” Mo clicked the button on her key that released the car door locks.

The smarmy sneer that passed for Milton’s smile slipped a bit. “I want to talk to you.”

Mo reached for the door handle. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

When she would have pulled the car door open, Milton clapped a hand across the window on the door and held it shut. “You don’t seem to appreciate the opportunity I’m giving you to comment on the story tomorrow.”

“The one you showed us earlier? What do you need my comment for? I thought you had it all wrapped up.”

Milton glanced down and to the left and she knew she was about to hear a lie. “I do have it locked up. I have solid sources.”

“Yeah right,” Mo smiled. “Heather backed out, didn’t she? She’s not going to back your facts and the paper is concerned about a lawsuit.” Pulling open the door against his resistance, she laughed. “Classic.”

Milton’s sneer changed from smarmy to evil. “If you don’t back my article about the affair, I’ll run with my other story.”

Mo hopped into the seat. Milton blocked her from closing the door. “What story is that?” Mo asked.

“The world will be shocked to know that Ross Grant is gay.”

A spurt of laughter burst forth from Mo. “You do that. You print a story that claims Ross is gay. You haven’t let the truth stand in your way so far. Good suggestion.”

She tugged the door and it hit against Milton’s back. “Get out of the way or I’ll close you in it,” Mo warned.

When he grudgingly moved to the side, Mo slammed the door shut, fired the engine, and accelerated away. She didn’t have time for this shitake with Milton. What had happened to Clarence while she had her run in with the reporter?

Chapter Seventeen

“Crêpe,” Mo muttered as she turned to circle the block for the third time. “The parking in this city is a crime.”

Just when she thought she might have to chance parking in an illegal space, she spotted a black SUV pulling away from the curb at the end of Clarence’s street. “It’s about time.”

Mo backed into the spot just as Mrs.
Truesberry
emerged from the front door of the house. By the time Mo got out of her car and was striding toward the building, the landlady had tottered down the stairs and taken a position kneeling, gardening spade in hand, at her flower bed.

“Can I help you,
dearie
?” Mrs.
Truesberry
asked when she saw Mo approach.

Impatient to get to her goal, Mo slowed but didn’t stop. “Not really. I’ve come to see Clarence.” Running up the stairs she reached for the knob of the door.