Two Guys Detective Agency (16 page)
case, but I don’t know what it was about or who he was working for.”
Octavia started up the engine and awkwardly shifted into drive. Linda was sure the dated instruments
on the dashboard were a far cry from those of a Jaguar convertible.
“Sullivan didn’t talk about his work?” Octavia asked.
“No. It was confidential.”
At least that’s what she’d told herself. Sullivan said he didn’t like to talk about work because he didn’t
want to bring his job home to affect her and the kids. But some part of her felt as if he purposely excluded
her because he wanted to keep something for himself separate from the suburban life thrust upon him. As a
result, his job had become like a third person in their marriage, someone she wasn’t allowed to get to know.
Which made it all the more ironic that she and Octavia were planning to close out his cases. She realized
suddenly that he would not be happy at the prospect.
“So which case do you think we should take on first?” Octavia said, as if she had read her mind. She
pulled into traffic on Todds Road in staccato fashion, to the tune of angry horns.
Linda curled her fingers around the armrest. “I’m thinking the personal injury case since it has the
biggest potential payout. Tomorrow after we finish the vending route for the week, I have to swing by here
and run a couple of errands. So why don’t we start Friday?”
“Friday works,” Octavia said happily. “Since you have other things to do, I’ll do the legwork on the
cases.”
Linda glanced sideways at her sister. She was being very...accommodating. “You looked upset when
you came out of the bathroom earlier. Is everything okay?”
“No,” Octavia said, but she was smiling woodenly as she pointed to her forehead. “I spent eight
hundred dollars last week to get this wrinkle filled and it’s not working because I’m not supposed to frown
and that’s all I’ve been doing! Dammit, Richard has the most lousy sense of timing.”
Linda smothered a smile. There was the Octavia she knew.
They stopped at the intersection of Man o’ War in the right hand turn lane behind a compact car. Linda
pulled out the reports she wanted to finish before they got home so she could make dinner and help the
kids with their homework. Suddenly, Octavia’s head jutted forward.
“That’s Richard!”
“Where?”
“In that Mercedes that just drove by!” She lay on the horn. The car in front of her edged forward, trying
to make a safe right turn on red to get out of her way.
Octavia rolled down the window and stuck out her head. “Move it!” she yelled, still punching the horn.
The car darted out in traffic and Octavia gunned the gas without looking. Screeching brakes and more
horns sounded.
Linda’s paperwork went flying. “Jesus, sis, you’re going to get us killed.”
Octavia zoomed around cars, then pointed. “There it is! The black one.”
Linda squinted to see a vehicle about a quarter of a mile in front of them on the busy two-lane road.
“Are you sure it’s Richard? Did you see him?”
Octavia floored the pedal and ran through a yellow-turning-red light. “No, but that’s his car.”
“Slow down — it could be anyone.”
“But it could be him.”
She was right. Linda glanced in the side mirror to see what kind of carnage Octavia had left in her wake
and at the sight of flashing blue lights, her stomach dropped to her thighs. “Pull over, sis. You’ve got a cop
behind you.”
“I can’t stop — I’ll lose him!”
“You
have
to stop — it’s the law.”
Octavia cursed, but backed off the gas pedal. She migrated into the right lane, then eased onto the
shoulder. The dark police car pulled in behind her. Linda said a quick prayer that her car insurance was
paid up. This could be bad.
Octavia had rolled down the window and was fluffing her hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting out of a ticket,” she said, then unfastened the top two buttons on her blouse.
The cop’s face appeared in the window. “What the hell — ” He broke off. “Octavia?”
Linda gasped. “Oakley?”
He frowned. “Well, at least you’re not driving.” Then he scowled at Octavia. “Do you know how fast
you were going?”
“You were driving just as fast to catch up with me.”
Linda closed her eyes briefly.
“The difference is I’m allowed to! What were you thinking? The children just lost their father — are
you trying to kill their mother, too?”
“Oakley — ” Linda began.
“License and registration,” he said.
Octavia gaped at him. “You’re giving me a ticket?”
“You better believe it. You broke about a half dozen traffic rules.”
Octavia’s mouth screwed up, but she reached for her purse.
Linda rummaged in the van glove compartment around toys and crayons for the registration, which she
passed over. “Since when do detectives work the traffic beat?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Since maniac drivers threaten the safety of people I care about.”
She pursed her mouth. “Can we talk?”
“You’re welcome to come back to the car while I write up this ticket.”
She climbed out into deep grass, then waded back to his unmarked sedan and slid inside, feeling like a
naughty child.
He swung into the driver’s seat, his body language vibrating with anger.
“Oakley, let me explain. Octavia’s husband left her here the day of the funeral. He just up and
disappeared, and since then she’s found out they’re deeply in debt and he was doing things she didn’t know
about. She thought she saw him drive by and was following him. I know it’s not a good excuse for
speeding, but there it is.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “No, it’s not a good excuse. What’s the guy’s name?”
“Richard Habersham. He’s an attorney in Jefferson County. Is there anything you can do?”
“It’s not illegal to disappear....but I’ll keep my eyes open in case anything about him comes over the
wire.”
“So can you cut her some slack?”
“No — she’s getting a ticket. She’s very lucky no one was hurt.” His shoulders softened a millimeter.
“How are you doing?”
I have a stone where my heart used to be
. “Some days are better than others.”
“Did you get my messages?”
She nodded. “I’ve just been so busy with the kids and Octavia...and closing down the agency.”
He reached forward to lift the ugly Mellon Vending lanyard she wore around her neck. “What’s this?”
“I...got a part-time job.”
His face clouded.
“I’d planned to...even before.” Although Sullivan had never known.
“Surely there’s something else...”
“It’s not a bad job. The hours are flexible enough for me to work around the kids’ school schedule.”
He reached into his inside coat pocket and removed his wallet. “Take this — ” He pulled out several
hundreds and extended them to her.
Her mouth watered, thinking of the bills she could pay, but she didn’t want to take money from Oakley,
didn’t want things to get...sticky. “I can’t.”
“I insist.”
She put her hands in her pockets.
Finally he put the money back. “How are the kids?”
“They miss their dad. And so do I.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
When the silence became uncomfortable, he cleared his throat, then continued writing the ticket. “Don’t
let your sister be a bad influence on you.”
“Maybe I’ll be a good influence on
her
.”
He laughed, the tension broken. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Okay.”
She climbed out and returned to the van.
“Did you talk him out of it?” Octavia asked.
“No.”
“No? I thought he was a friend of yours.”
Oakley appeared at the window. “But I’m not a friend of
yours
.” He tore off the ticket and handed it to
her. “While you’re in Lexington, please obey the law.”
Octavia snatched the ticket.
“Goodbye, ladies. Be safe.”
He disappeared and instantly, Linda missed him.
“WELCOME TO Waffle House. What can I get you for?”
Octavia looked up, straining not to roll her eyes. She had to consider her surroundings — she was, after
all, sitting in a sticky booth with large containers of condiments right on the table, and the boy waiting on
her wore an apron and a black bill cap with WH embroidered on the front.
A bill cap
.
“Coffee, with half and half.”
“Coming right up.”
Octavia looked back to the file she was studying, the background report on Richard. She was
systematically going through all the information and drawing a line through all the facts she’d known to
highlight the facts she hadn’t known.
So far,
hadn’t
was winning.
The boy came back and set an enormous mug of coffee on the table. “Whoa, whatcha doing there?
Studying for an exam?”
“No." She took a sip of the coffee and conceded it wasn’t bad.
“Nice phone,” the boy said, nodding to her smartphone lying on the table.
She prided herself on having the latest model...even if she didn’t know how to use it fully. “Thanks.”
“Do you have the Go Man app?”
“No.” At least she didn’t think so. She had no idea what the boy was talking about.
“I can show you sometime — it’s cool.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are you going to order something to eat?”
She
was
hungry, darn it. “What’s the safest thing on the menu?”
“For lunch, a lot of people like you order the Chicken Apple Pecan Salad.”
Octavia frowned. “People like me?”
“Thin and pretty.”
“Oh...thanks. Okay, I’ll try it.”
“You got it.”
She picked up her phone and went down a list of her and Richard’s friends, dialing...but most of them
wouldn’t take her calls. She got lots of voice mailboxes, and secretaries and housekeepers and personal
assistants whose bosses had “just stepped out.” Of the people who
would
take her calls, no one had heard
from Richard in days. But the gossip had started to churn.
“Is everything okay, Octavia?” Emily Devonshire asked. “Someone said Richard had closed his
practice...”
“...that your home had been foreclosed upon,” said Joan Berman.
“...that your cars were repossessed,” said Katie Lender.
“...that your housekeeper is looking for another job,” said Renee Masterson.
“Everything is fine,” Octavia lied to each of them with a laugh. “I’m in Lexington with my sister — she
lost her husband, you know, so sad — and Richard decided to take a break, too. But in all the flurry, I lost
his itinerary, so I thought maybe one of our friends would know where he went. And the financial stuff —
well, we rely on our CPA for everything, and obviously, something fell through the cracks. You just can’t
get good help these days.”
But each of her friends made lame excuses to get off the phone, leaving her stung. How quickly the
sharks could turn on their own when they smelled blood in the water.
She pulled from her purse the handful of mail she’d grabbed on her way out the door of her home, and
the padded envelope Carla had given her fell into her lap. She picked it up and studied the flap — whatever
was inside, Richard had gone to great lengths to document that he was the person who’d sealed the
envelope. She knew an evidence envelope when she saw it, and knew if it was something damning, she
didn’t want to be the one responsible for breaking the seal. Richard must be keeping it for a client.
But why would he give it to Carla?
The truth hit her between the eyes — because he’d been sleeping with her, of course.
“Octavia, right?”
She looked up to see Grim Hollister standing there, clad in black jeans, black T-shirt, and white
snakeskin boots. She frowned and put a finger to the crease in her brow. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Having a bad day, huh?”
“That’s so none of your business.”
“There aren’t any free tables — mind if I join you?”
“Yes, I do.”
He slid into the booth seat opposite her. “Thank you kindly. You’re here alone?”
She gritted her teeth. “My sister is taking care of some things at the agency.”
The waiter arrived with her salad. Octavia moved her files and mail to make room for the bowl. Damn,
it looked kind of good.
“Hey, Grim,” the waiter said.
“Hey, Brittany.”
“Your usual?”
“Sure thing.”
“Coming right up.”
Octavia turned to stare after the server. “That’s a girl?”
“Yeah...kind of hard to tell, isn’t it? Smart as a whip, that one. But she doesn’t make a fuss like you do.”
“You can leave now.”
Instead, he leaned back in the seat and crossed his big tatted arms. “I like women who fuss.”
“How charming.”
“Dig in,” he said, nodding to her salad. “Don’t feel like you have to wait for me.”
“I don’t.” She stabbed her fork into a chunk of chicken.
“Come here often?”
“Do I look like I belong in here?”
He angled his head. “I can see it — you haven’t always been rich, have you?”
Jackass
. She stabbed another chunk and brought it to her mouth for a vicious tear.
He squinted at the paperwork she’d moved aside. “Background check, huh?”