Number's Up

by Annabelle Hunter

“You look awfully pretty to be meeting no one.” He leaned back as we hesitated for the front doors to open, giving me a look over.

  Bastard. “Maybe I’m going on a date.”

  “At 10 am? On a Tuesday?” He tsked. “He can’t have a job then. Not good enough for you.”

  Good enough…? No. Ignoring. But did he think about what guys I should date? And he had high expectations? Focus.

  “I will take your advice into consideration.” He didn’t know it, but that was my version of the F word. The one I used on CEOs when they thought they understood finance better than I did. I remembered a time when I was impressed with titles. When I thought CEOs were business geniuses, devious chess players, thinking five moves ahead. Giants among men. Before I found out that CEOs were people. And that what got them to the top of their company was hard work, connections, and having little life outside of work. Business genius could be hired. I proved that.

  I walked through the resort lobby with angry clicks. Halfway through the beautiful lobby, the sound of my heels on the marble floors soothed me. Centered me. I was in control. People who wore these shoes were always in control. The elevator doors opened to let some guests off and I hurried in, hoping Agent Nosy-Pants wouldn’t follow. No luck. He snuck in right as the door closed. He even did the sexy side slip-thru, sneaking past the closing doors like I had seen in the movies, his signature smirk telling me he was only letting me think I might escape him.

  No. That was not sexy. I was in control. Me. Not my hormones. Nope.

  “So, can I know where we’re going yet?”

  Fine. Why not?

  “To see Henry.”

  “Your business partner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked, leaning on the wall, one leg bent against it.

  It was still sexy, but now I couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor people who were going to have to clean the shoe print off the shiny sides.

  “Can you sound any less suspicious?” I snapped.

  “No.” He thought for a second. “No, I really can’t.”

  I had the sudden inclination to hit my head on the elevator doors. Or his. I let myself enjoy that image for a while before reminding myself that assault was bad, and assaulting a federal agent was worse.

  “I don’t know,” I finally answered, focusing my gaze on the door and not the man I had just confessed to.

  “You don’t know why I can’t be less suspicious? Well, your partner—"

  “Hush.” I looked around at the empty elevator to confirm it was empty. Because I was that paranoid. “Whatever you think you may have, nothing has been confirmed.” Well, convicted. Innocent until proven guilty, right? “Please don’t go throwing around accusations.” That got me another look of pity. Two in one week. I was on a roll. “And I was answering your question. I don’t know why I’m here. He texted last night and asked me.”

  “Really.” His face closed off. Well, at least it wasn’t pity. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I rushed off, orienting myself quickly to find the room I wanted. I checked my phone. 10:10. I was late. Henry was going to be pissed.

  310… 308… 306… there. 304. I found it, my shadow still right behind me.

  Bang.

  I jumped and looked down at my hands. I hadn’t knocked yet.

  Wait. That wasn’t me. What was that sound?

  Suddenly I was flying toward the wall, an arm around my waist anchoring me to the side. Nicholas’s body was between me and the hall and he had his phone out, dialing.

  “John. Shots fired. Room 304.”

  Shots? As in ‘bang, bang’? As in a gun? No. There was only one bang. It couldn’t be a gun.

  Oh my god. Shots fired.

  “Henry.” I had to get to him. I didn’t care if he was a criminal. He was my friend. He had to be okay. I struggled to get out of Nicholas’s arms, but he was too strong. “Henry!”

  Soon I registered Nicholas’s voice. “Easy. Easy, gorgeous. I need you to stop struggling.”

  I got a hold of my panic, his rhythmic rubbing of my arms easing me back from my blind terror enough to look at him.

  “Henry,” I whispered. He seemed to understand my plea.

  “If you promise to stay here, I will go check on him. But I need you to not do anything stupid.”

  “I never do anything stupid.” My response was automatic, but less than honest.

  I was completely going to follow him in. For Henry, I was exactly that stupid. He looked at my face and seemed to come to that conclusion, too.

  Damn it.

  “We have to go help him,” I pleaded.

  “Sure. If you swear to Excel that you will stay here,” he replied.

  Excel? The computer program? I was so confused.

  “Fine. Whatever. Go help him,” I lied. I was absolutely following. This time he believed me. He turned, pulling out a gun from somewhere and I watched in silence.

  Maybe I wouldn’t follow. I didn’t do guns.

  I tapped the wall as I thought.

  Nope. Henry was in there. I was following. Maybe I could help Henry while Nic got the bad guy.

  Nicholas held the gun still as he listened for a second before knocking. “This is the FBI, open the door!”

  We both waited for a second, straining to hear any sound. Suddenly, Nic backed up and kicked the door, his foot hitting right next to the lock. The door gave, swinging open and he cautiously scanned the room as he entered.

  Okay. I could do this. I could go help Henry. I took a step towards the room.

  But it might be dangerous. I hesitated.

  Something clanged. Was the shooter still in the room?

  Henry. Nicholas!

  Debate over, I rushed over to the door as a black blur ran out, shoving me aside into the door jamb as it fled.

  “Stop!” Nic followed, his gun moving in search for the blur, but it was gone. He looked around confused.

  “Stairs.” Ouch. I had hit my arm hard. I rubbed it, hoping that would relieve the pain. Nic looked at me in confusion. “The stairwell is around the corner. He must have gone down.” I pointed.

  He nodded. “Don’t go in there. It’s a crime scene.” Then he was gone, too.

  Crime scene. No paramedics.

  I pulled myself up, preparing to confirm my suspicions, pain swelling in my chest and threatening to take over.

  I turned.

  I was right.

  Henry was dead.

  Chapter 4

  I was left with the body.

  Umm. What should I do now? My only instinct was to call the cops and I’m pretty sure Nic had already done that. I turned and glanced at Henry again before I thought about it.

  Shit. Stupid idea.

  I turned halfway back around before I hesitated. Someone had killed him. Shot him while I was outside. What if I knew something? No. That was stupid. But he said he needed to talk to me. To explain. What if he wanted to tell me something that got him killed? I peeked.

  Henry was face down in the middle of the suite, a red liquid pooling underneath him. Blood. Oh god. I took a deep breath and tried to separate myself from my emotions.

  His hands were face down on the ground above his head. I imagined he was probably holding them up when the killer fired. I tore my eyes away, searching the room for anything out of place. There were bags sitting atop the bed on the far side of the room with items thrown around like they had been searched. The killer could have done it, but Henry wasn’t a neat freak like me. What could the killer have been looking for? I took a step toward it before I stopped again. Nope. Not going near the body. Henry. Henry’s body.

  Oh my god.

  Henry was dead. My anxiety rose up and buried me. At one point I was standing, and the next, I was sitting down in the doorway, the frame digging into my spine. Breathing. Okay, gasping for air. Where did it all go? Air couldn’t disappear. It had to still be around me. All I needed to do was breathe it in. Why was I struggling with it?

  “
Jen?” John knelt in front of me, his tan hand contrasting sharply against my arm’s paleness. A Hispanic man in his forties, John had come to Barrow Bay a few years ago. As he put it, he retired from the streets of LA to do what he enjoyed—being the town detective. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s dead,” I whimpered, my head buried in my hands.

  “Nicholas? Because I expected a few more days until you tried to kill him this time around.”

  What?

  My head swung up. Oh. It was a joke. Distract the witness out of their shock. Good idea.

  “You think I could take out an FBI agent?” He was good at this. I was thoroughly distracted. And enjoying the image of me smacking Nic around. Evidently, I had a vicious streak.

  “When you found out why he was here? Absolutely.” He smiled at me and I returned it. The thought of little five-foot-eight me taking on giant six-foot-six Nic and winning made me snort.

  “Why is he here?” I asked, curious to know what John had privy to.

  “I’ll let him tell you. That way you can be mad at him. And only him. Remember that you love me. And my wife. You and Judy are great friends. You wouldn’t want her to be husbandless, right?”

  “Overly dramatic.”

  “Everyone's a critic.” John leaned closer to let an officer by. That was when I noticed that we were surrounded.

  Wow. When I freaked, I freaked.

  “What do I do now?” I asked, my strength sagging as my amusement faded.

  “We figure out why Henry wanted to talk to you,” Nicholas's voice interrupted. John and I both turned to look at him as he walked up the hallway.

  “He looks mad,” I whispered, only to blush when I realized Nic overheard.

  “Yep,” John deadpanned, not showing his delight at my unintentional cheek.

  “He isn’t sexy when mad.” I might still be in shock.

  “Is anyone?”

  “I don’t know. They always say that in the movies,” I answered honestly.

  “Only to the girls. Maybe it’s a girl thing,” John joked, shifting his weight as he knelt. That had to be uncomfortable.

  “Could be,” I conceded, risking a peek at Nic.

  Nic just glared at both of us. “You two done? Or is there more to your comedy routine?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should analyze this some more. We might be onto a breakthrough for relations between the sexes. Maybe write a book. TV appearances.” I smiled innocently at Nic, trying to hide how much teasing him made me feel better. Well, less like I was going to cry at any moment.

  “Okay. I’m splitting you two up. John, can you go see where the coroner is?”

  “The Bahamas.” That made Nic stop and glance at him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Our coroner is in the Bahamas. We have to call the county coroner,” John clarified.

  “When are we going to admit that he’s not coming back?” I asked. He’d been gone for three months now. I figured we could officially say he had island fever.

  “When we find the right fit,” John admitted.

  Well, at least they were honest. That was how this town worked. When a position came open, the powers that be looked for the right replacement. Most recently, Brecken for Chief. Lark was underestimating their commitment. I was looking forward to the town’s next move.

  Nic gave us both a look that clearly communicated he thought we were crazy.

  “Whatever. Can you check on the county coroner?” he asked, through clenched teeth.

  I didn’t think he liked our responses. I got it. We didn’t respond like normal people. Flippant and sarcastic was how we survived in this town. Also, probably why we had to search for the right fit.

  “Nope,” John answered, giving me a small wink.

  Nic’s eyes closed for a second before he took a deep breath and turned to John again. “Why?”

  “He’s downstairs. Happened to be in town, so he wasn’t that far behind me.”

  Counting. I was pretty sure that’s why Nic’s mouth was moving. He was counting.

  “Great.” He turned and looked around. “Where can we interview Jennifer?”

  “Jen,” I snapped.

  His chest heaved with the strength of his sigh. He was lying to himself. He was too dramatic to be Wolverine. Maybe Cyclops would work, though. Cyclops was always more dramatic.

  Oh my gosh. I had been hanging around Lark too long. Her comic book movie obsession had rubbed off.

  “Interview room?” Nic ignored my comment and continued to address John.

  “Dorothy is working on getting us the room next door. Zach?” John called out to another officer in uniform. “Did you have a chance to get the key card yet?”

  “Yeah, right here.” Zach held up a key card and Nic took it with an exasperated look.

  “He’s not Captain America,” I commented to John, who held back a snort.

  “Again with the Captain America.” Nic rolled his eyes and walked to the other door, using the key to open it. “Your room, milady.”

  Yep. Definitely not a grumpy anti-hero with a heart of gold like Wolverine. Just grumpy.

  I walked into the suite. It was just like Henry’s only in reverse. Another wave of pain hit me. Henry was gone. What would I do next? Should I call his clients and tell them? I wasn’t even completely sure who his clients were. His son had been helping him more and more over the past few years and I had gotten busier with my own. Not that I had cared. I had enough business on my own.

  Oh, god. I would have to contact his son.

  “Frank. I need to call Frank.” I stood to grab my phone from my purse, but Nic stopped me.

  “Frank Boyd? Henry’s son?”

  “Yes. He needs to know…” Nic was blocking me, so I turned and walked over to the window. I watched two cars leave, a red sedan and a blue truck, passing through the police perimeter. I watched quietly as their tail lights disappeared down the road.

  “Jen?” Nic asked from behind me. “Can you go over what brought you here today?” His voice was gentle. It was strange. A soft Nic. I shook off the thought, focusing on how I could help them with the investigation.

  “Henry texted me out of the blue last night. Said we needed to talk. Gave me the time and place. He wanted to meet me at nine, but I had a call this morning, so I had to push it back.” I rubbed my arms as that thought sunk in. Would he still be alive if I had been here at nine? Could I have saved him? If I’d cancelled that phone call?

  “Can I see the text messages?”

  “Yes! Yes, it’s in my purse.” I pointed and he went to grab it for me. Searching through it, I found my phone, unlocked it and pulled up the conversation. I could do this. I could help solve his murder. That was an action. A plan. Well, an action that might lead to a plan.

  “And this is it? Have you guys communicated recently other than this?”

  “No. Not since…” I trailed off and faced the window again. Could my actions have caused this? Was it a client trying to keep Henry from talking? It seemed ridiculous, but people had killed for less.

  “Not since the warrants were served,” he concluded.

  “Yes. I… I’ve had trouble working with him since I found the documents,” I admitted. It wasn’t like he didn’t know.

  “How did you get Tony’s account? From my understanding, he had been a long-time client of Henry’s.”

  “Henry was thinking about retiring, so he was starting to shift more demanding customers to me.” I got tired of talking to the window, so I walked over to the table and sat, with Nic following me. He took the chair across from me and I focused on the table. I was ready to tell him everything. “We were looking at hiring two new people, one to replace Henry and one to expand the business.”

  “When was he planning on retiring?”

  “A year? Maybe two? We hadn’t set a date. We were too busy to do more than mention it and say we needed to hire someone. Henry handled all of that.”

  “What about his son? He has
a degree in business.”

  “Didn’t pass the test to be a CPA. We do more than just taxes and bookkeeping. He needed to have his license to meet all our clients’ needs. I know Henry used him as needed for some of the more routine stuff, but he was always supervised.” I tried to keep my tone even, but Nic noticed the grimace.

  “You don’t like him,” he commented.

  “I don’t hate him.”

  “I thought you liked everyone. Pretty sure I had a tall, skinny girl yelling that at me last night.”

  I smiled at the memory. It felt weird with what just happened, but I couldn’t hold it back. That was why I loved this town. No matter how down I was, it always made me laugh. “He isn’t a bad guy. I don’t dislike him. I just… don’t like him. I disliked working with him when we worked together. He… wasn’t good at his job.” That was probably an overshare, but maybe it would be helpful.

  “Are there any other people that work for your business occasionally?”

  “Henry had a tax specialist who would help out during tax season, but I don’t know her name. He took care of it. As far as I know, there wasn’t any bad blood. They wouldn’t want to kill him. I have a few months before tax season, so I haven’t contacted them yet.”

  “You weren’t very active in the running of the business for a partner.”

  “I work seventy to eighty hours a week. I get my job done and I keep my clients happy. That is my job. Making it run is Henry’s.” He had been the foundation of the company, until three weeks ago. Since then I had been doing everything, and this conversation was proving to me how many things I probably had missed. Nic was right. I should’ve known all of these specifics to the answers if I had been running the business for three weeks. I had been too busy fielding customers calls, trying to stop them from withdrawing their accounts. I wiped away a tear from the corner of my eye. I hadn’t noticed when my eyesight went blurry, but had felt the wetness on my cheek.

  “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know.” It came out as a whisper, like I was afraid to say the truth too loudly. I thought about it, tracing a line in the table absently, before admitting the hard truth. “Probably shut it down. Start my own business with any clients that will follow.”