Two Guys Detective Agency (18 page)

Inside, they located Mr. Wendt quickly — he was hard to miss in his scooter. They maintained a

discreet distance, pretending to shop. Octavia wandered into a jewelry store and tried on a diamond Rolex

watch with a price tag that took Linda’s breath away. The look in her sister’s eyes reminded her of when

their father had brought home the pony.

And the look in her eyes when she had to take if off reminded Linda of when the pony had been

spirited away.

Wendt visited a bookstore where he waited for ten minutes to request assistance to see a book on a top

shelf. Then he went into an electronics store to buy a battery for his scooter — he obviously planned to be

in it for a while. Next he went to Macy’s department store where he touched every pair of socks in the

men’s hosiery department while she and Octavia loitered nearby, trying to look casual.

Linda glanced at her watch. “I have to go in twenty minutes to be home when the kids get there.”

Octavia scowled after their target, who had finished fondling accessories and was zooming back out

into the center of the mall. “I have an idea.” She handed her purse to Linda. “Get the camera ready, and

whatever happens, go with it.”

A phrase that never failed to strike fear in her heart when they were kids...and still had the same effect.

Linda had no choice but to scamper after Octavia, who strode after Wendt and when she caught up with

him, bumped his scooter — hard. So hard that it tipped over and spilled him out into the smooth, slick

floor.

Linda watched in horror as the man flailed on his back, reaching futilely for his toppled scooter.

“Step back,” Octavia shouted when people approached to help him. “This man is a con artist, he’s as

able to walk as you or I.” Then she smiled down at Wendt. “Get up, you big phony.”

Linda closed her eyes. Octavia had gone way too far. She’d be lucky if she wasn’t arrested for assault.

Wendt lay there and shook his head. “You’re crazy! I’m paralyzed — I can’t get up.”

Her sister crouched over him. “Really? Can you get
it
up?” She began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing

a black bra underneath.

Linda stood riveted with the rest of the crowd as Octavia removed her blouse, then stepped out of her

skirt. She stood over Wendt in lacy bra and panties and high heels as catcalls sounded in the background

and mothers covered the eyes of their children.

Wendt was transfixed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Octavia said triumphantly, pointing to his crotch. “We have lift-off.”

Linda stepped forward to snap a picture of Wendt and his painfully obvious erection just as mall

security came running up.

Octavia held them off with an upraised hand, and apparently, they were too disoriented by her state of

undress to disobey. “Are you going to get up now?” she asked Wendt.

His mouth opened and closed as he took in Octavia’s barely concealed curves.

Linda felt sorry for the man — the photo of his obvious arousal would be enough to dispute part of his

claim...they didn’t need to mock his inability to walk.

“Octavia,” Linda hissed. “We have what we need. Let’s go.”

Then Wendt rolled over and pushed to his feet. “Okay, you got me. Can I at least have your number?”

Chapter Seventeen

“WHEN WILL MOMMY be home?” Maggie whined.

“If she’s like me, when she runs out of room in the car for shopping bags,” Octavia said. She was trying

to figure out how to work the ancient vacuum cleaner. There was a reason she had a housekeeper.

“Mom’s nothing like you,” Jarrod blurted from the couch where he sat watching something loud on TV

that looked inappropriate.

She walked over and turned the channel to Saturday morning cartoons, then put the remote out of

reach. He flounced, but she only offered a tight smile, then went back to the vacuum.

“When are you and your stuff leaving?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the bags of clothes and

shoes stacked all over the room.

“As soon as we possibly can. You don’t think I
want
to be here, do you?”

“Can I have these shoes?” Maggie asked. She stood posed, with her chunky little feet inside a pair of

cotton candy pink stilettos, looking hopeful.

“Someday. For now, stay out of my shoes — you’ll break the shank.”

“What’s a shank?”

“The thing you’ll break if you don’t take them off!”

“It’s on the side,” Jarrod said.

She sighed. “What?”

“The button to turn on the vacuum. It’s on the side.” Then he got up and reached for it. “Here, I’ll do

it.”

“Good,” she said, happily relinquishing the monster.

“It’s not going to make a difference,” he mumbled, eyeing the general disarray of the house.

“I know...I have eyeballs.”

The doorbell rang and Max began barking at the top of his lungs.

“I heard it!” she shouted to the dog, then walked to the door thinking her head might explode. How did

Linda deal with this unrelenting chaos day in and day out?

She opened the door to find a brown-suited delivery man. “Package for Mrs. Smith.”

“What is it?”

He checked the manifest. “A case of battery-operated candles.” He grinned. “She gets the most

interesting things.”

She squinted, begging to differ. But she signed for it as he dragged the box inside and somehow found

a place to set it. She thanked him and when he left, she walked out into the front yard to fetch the

newspapers that had piled up near the stoop.

It was a too-hot morning, with gnats buzzing around her head. On the broken sidewalk in front of the

house a couple dressed in ill-fitting clothes were walking a yappy little dog. They smiled and waved. She

stared at them because they seemed so happy...who could be happy living in this shabby little community?

Didn’t they know they were supposed to be depressed?

“Looks like your yard is getting away from you,” the man called good-naturedly.

Linda’s sloping yard was indeed overgrown, as many weeds as grass, and nearly consumed by clover.

And apparently its appearance was bringing down the entire neighborhood.

“I’ll get the gardener right on that,” Octavia called, then gave him the finger.

The couple’s jaws dropped, then they hurried on their way.

A blue sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk and a stocky blond man emerged from the passenger side

dressed in a suit. Everything about him was out of place, but in the back of her mind she wondered if he

were a cop, maybe a former colleague of Sullivan’s. But he made a beeline for her, as if he knew who she

was. Before she realized what was happening, he grabbed her upper arm.

“Where’s Richard?”

Fear catapulted through her at his ominous expression.

He shook her.
“Where is he?”

“I...I don’t know,” she managed.

Another shake, this one rattling her teeth. “I think you do.”

From the corner of her eye she saw a reddish-brown streak fly past her. Max was on the man’s leg, his

teeth buried in the fabric of his pants.

“Leave my Aunt Tavey alone!” Maggie shouted from the stoop.

“Hey, you,” Jarrod yelled.

The man looked up just as a basketball hit him square in the nose. He grimaced and released Octavia to

hold his gushing nose. While he groaned and cursed, Maggie ran up and threw a cup of glitter on him.

“You’re a bad man!”

The bad man clawed at the air to rid himself of the sparkly bits, to no avail. But apparently he’d had

enough because he turned and ran back to the car, holding his nose. Max pursued part of the way, barking a

noisy sendoff. The man rolled inside, then the car sped off. Octavia saw a few letters and numbers on the

license plate and committed them to memory.

She turned to look at the kids, who were staring at her, wide-eyed. “Are you okay?” she asked, hugging

them close. She would never forgive herself if something happened to them on her watch.

“We’re fine,” Jarrod said. “Did that man hurt you?”

“No,” she said, although her arm still stung from his bruising grip. “Thanks to you — you guys are my

heroes!”

“And Max, too,” Maggie said.

“And Max, too,” Octavia agreed, giving the dog a tentative pat on the head.

“Why did that man come here?” Jarrod asked. He looked wary, as if he were afraid the guy might come

back.

“He was looking for someone,” she said evasively. “But he had the wrong house.” She made a shooing

motion, forcing cheer into her voice. “Let’s all go back inside.”

But when she closed the door, she turned the deadbolt. Adrenaline still coursed through her body. The

man was obviously trying to find Richard, and from his demeanor, she gathered it wasn’t to give him

money. The handgun purchase listed on Richard’s background check was starting to make sense.

Who had her husband gotten himself mixed up with?

“Kids,” she said when she turned around, “let’s not tell your mom what happened.”

“Why not?” Jarrod asked.

“Because it might upset her needlessly. And she has enough on her mind, don’t you think?”

He nodded and looked at Maggie. “We won’t tell.”

“It’ll be our secret,” Maggie agreed in a hushed voice, then crossed her heart.

“Good,” Octavia said, relieved. “Now...who wants pancakes?”

*****

Sullivan’s grave. The white bloom, amazingly, was still alive after ten days.

Her eyes filled with tears and overflowed again, still unable to get her head around the idea that her

husband was in the ground, feeling nothing. She’d come here to talk to him, to feel close to him, but she

didn’t know what to say. His life had been so brief, and she wasn’t even sure he’d been happy.

From the box of Kleenex she’d brought with her, Linda pulled yet another tissue and wiped her face. In

a tragically short amount of time, the boxes she’d won were dwindling. All of her pockets and purses were

full of crumpled balls and moist wads.

“The kids are okay,” she started. “As good as they can be. They miss you so much.”

The echoing silence that answered her permeated bone deep.

She swallowed. “Octavia is staying with us for a while.” She gave a little laugh. “I know — can you

imagine? She’s not acclimating well...and she and Maggie are so much alike, it’s unending drama as to

which one of them is queen bee. But I think it’s just what we all need right now.”

She wet her lips. “Oakley is keeping an eye on us. He misses you.” Her neck warmed and she squirmed

— it was as if she could feel Sullivan’s disapproval from beyond.

“And in case it matters,” she whispered, “I miss you, too.” At a loss, she dropped the mum onto his

grave and turned to walk away.

Chapter Eighteen

LINDA TURNED HER head to study Octavia’s profile. “You were quiet all weekend. Is everything

okay?”

Octavia didn’t move, just kept staring blindly ahead out the windshield of the van. “You mean other

than the fact that my husband has disappeared and I don’t know what I’m going to do?”

“Ditto,” Linda said softly.

Octavia looked over and shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry...I realize you’re struggling, too.”

“You know you can stay with us as long as you want to.”

“I appreciate that, but you have your life, and I really need to get back to mine. Which reminds me —

can I borrow the van Wednesday after we finish the vending machine route? I need to make a trip back to

Louisville to pick up a few things.”

“Sure.” Linda bit her lower lip. She hadn’t really expected Octavia to enjoy living in her cramped

household, sharing her small life. And of course she was pining for her husband and the lavish lifestyle

she’d had in Louisville, but...Linda was sort of getting used to having her sister around again, and it

was...nice.

Octavia picked up the Pleasant Ridge Retirement Home file from her lap, suddenly all business. “Okay,

how are we going to do this?”

“Well, the owner doesn’t want everyone in the home to panic about the outbreak, so while we don’t

have to go in undercover, we’re supposed to handle our inquiries with discretion.” She gave Octavia a

pointed look. “And without stripping down to our skivvies.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it? Wendt folded like a greeting card.”

“But what if he hadn’t?”

“I figured we had nothing to lose — if it worked, great. If it didn’t, then the insurance company was

going to have to pay him anyway.”

“What if he’d had a bad back and you’d hurt him worse?”

“But he didn’t...and I didn’t.”

“We could’ve lost a big customer.”

Octavia frowned. “The insurance company? What does it matter? You’re closing the agency.”

“Right,” she murmured. “You’re right, of course.”

“And we’re collecting a big, fat payment. You’re welcome, by the damn way.”

“No, I do appreciate it. God knows we can use the money.”

“Can’t we all.”

She’d promised Octavia half of the payment, although Klo said it would take a few weeks to arrive.

By that time, Octavia would probably be back in Louisville.

“We have the names of three residents who came forward to be treated,” Linda said. “They’ve agreed to