Number's Up

“Love comes in many forms.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Yeah, no one could miss the bitter note in that one.

  “Hmm. Don’t worry. If he doesn’t do it for you, we can figure that out, too.”

  Chapter 9

  Nic lead the way to Miguel’s, sighing dramatically when I didn’t walk fast enough. Which again, made me slow down even more, Julia slowing Logan down with me. She fit in well, but Nic didn’t seem to be learning. The more frustrated he looked, the slower I got. Frustrating him was one of the few consistently fun things in my life right then.

  I smiled at him as we strolled, Nic waiting with the heavy, thick wooden door held open with apparent ease, although I had caught him try to pull it open twice. The orange wood door gave way to a festive interior, the beige walls nicely offsetting the blue and yellow busy tile on the floor and bar.

  Miguel, a Hispanic man in his late fifties, who rocked board shorts and a Hawaiian t-shirt everyday, came rushing over, cutting off the hostess and sending her back to the podium.

  “Jen! Love of my life! When will you marry me and make me the richest restaurant owner in Barrow Bay?”

  “When your wife lets you.” We hugged, but I pulled back faster than normal. “But I’m guessing you need some help?”

  “Yes. Might you have time to look into my books sometime soon? The bookkeeper I hired didn’t bookkeep, so much as take my money.” Miguel’s eyes didn’t meet mine as he admitted that he had been duped.

  I grimaced because I knew that he had hired his niece’s friend to be the bookkeeper, a move I had not recommended. I was not one for mixing family and business. Firing someone was hard. Firing a family member or family friend was harder. “Not a problem, Miguel. I can find time next week.” Since I probably wouldn’t have a business anymore.

  “Do you do everyone’s books?” Nic asked.

  I wanted to snap back that it was none of his business, but a glance at him left me questioning if he was actually curious. Not making fun of me or trying to insult me. But actually curious about what I did around town.

  “As many as I can.” A lot of people in town weren’t making much of a profit. Sometimes saving them that little bit, especially around the holidays made a difference. And it made me feel good to know that I was helping other people.

  “Jen is the best,” Miguel told him. “Very few people as sweet or kind.”

  I blushed as Nic looked over at me, his eyes scanning mine.

  “So I’ve been told,” he murmured, before Miguel lead us to a table.

  As I sat, I rummaged around in my purse, looking for a card. I knew I had thrown a few in here… There. “Miguel? Here. Call Nina and she’ll do your books for a low price. I’ll vouch for her. She’s good. After I fix them, at least.” She’d never take my call again if I dumped them on her without cleaning them up. Not if I was referring another reduced rate customer. But she was the best bookkeeper I knew, and I wouldn’t be happy doing it day in and day out. Every once in a while to help people out was fun. Every day was monotonous.

  “Thank you, Jen.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek before giving my hand a last squeeze and leaving.

  “The people here really love you,” Nic observed.

  “I like helping them. I’m used to only making what seems like a small difference to my clients. Here I make a big difference to some of these people,” I told him quietly, making sure no one else could hear us. Then I smiled. “It’s not hard. You just have to be nice.”

  “And slightly crazy.” He smiled in appreciation of our joking.

  “Now you’re catching on!” I grined, daring him to continue. “Then again, we’ve seen the same crazy in you.” I couldn’t help smiling even wider.

  “What’s sad, is that I’m starting to get that. This town is making sense. I’ve been here too long.”

  “Oh, honey, you’ve only been here four days, total. If we’ve corrupted you that easily, you had issues to begin with.”

  He snorted with laughter, which I didn’t expect, but made me happier than I was going to admit.

  “You may be right. You just may be right.” He picked up the menu and started to read, his lips still slightly curled in amusement.

  Samantha, the lunchtime waitress, had just walked up when a man came through the doors, drawing everyone’s attention. The man’s shirt was buttoned wrong, making the ends askew, and he hunched slightly, his eyes squinting at the crowd as he scanned the room.

  “I know he’s in here.” He aggressively pushed past the hostess, who fell back before darting toward the kitchen in fear. Miguel tried to stop him, but the man saw his quarry and rushed toward us. Julia went white and grabbed her son, wrapping her arms around him and pulling them both into a tight ball, but not fleeing the table like I was debating. I hesitated, realizing that wasn’t a normal reaction, but I turned to confront the intruder before I could ask about it. Nic got there quicker, though, and had already cut him off from being able to access our table.

  “What do you want, Ellis?” Nic had gotten to his feet and moved to the front of the table, blocking Ellis, although Nic seemed to be the man’s goal.

  “You know him?” I got the question out right before Ellis started yelling.

  “You are railroading him!” The man sputtered and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Or maybe it was his pores. Either way, we were all recoiling slightly from him. Well, Nic and I did. Julia couldn’t recoil anymore that she already had. “He didn’t do it.”

  “Ellis, you need to talk to Dan about this.” Nic was calm and steady, trying to use his voice to calm the man down, but the alcohol made Ellis bold.

  “No! I saw Lindsey’s article. You’re all blaming Dan. He didn’t inside-trade and he didn’t murder that lying bastard.”

  Hey! I took in a sharp breath at this new insult to my partner, but Nic’s glance told me to keep my response to myself. This must’ve been Dan’s brother, the one that had a wife who worked at the resort.

  Hold up. That would give all three of them the access to know that Henry would be there and probably access to the rooms because I can’t imagine it’s hard to get a key card if you work there. It would mean they also had access to the cameras.

  “I can’t talk about an ongoing case, but if you have any questions about the murder, John’s heading the investigation, you can—”

  “He’s just as bad as you!” Ellis moved closer to Nic, who held firm, but I could see his muscles tightening. “All you lawmen, out to destroy the working man on the orders of the rich! Dan didn’t do it. You are just focusing on him because he’s one of the smaller accounts. I mean, yeah, he might have threatened Henry a little the night before. And the letters he sent to Henry telling him to stop lying.” Ellis tilted sideways slightly before catching his balance. “But he didn’t mean that he would actually kill him.”

  Well. His brother wasn’t helping Dan’s case at all. How had Dan become a client? After Nic’s comment yesterday, I looked up the information on our shared system, but all that really told me was that Dan had been a client for three years, mostly simple stuff working with Frank. Nothing that would have attracted him to our firm.

  Was it possible that he was our client because he was involved? Instead of the other way around?

  “What letters?” Nic asked, snagging a chair and pulling it closer to them. Ellis was swaying more than a drunk man should. It wouldn’t be long before he passed out.

  “The letters he sent to the office. Henry replied saying that everything would be fine. That Dan just had to keep silent.”

  Shit. My head dropped to the table and I debated hitting it a few times. I couldn’t believe Dan’s brother just said that. This was why lawyers told everyone to never speak to the cops. I was sure Ellis was trying to help, but he just made it worse for Dan and Henry.

  I also really needed to admit that Henry was compliant in covering this up. Not just absent-minded and busy. I mean, I knew it, but I hadn’t really admitted it to myself. That statemen
t destroyed what little hope I had. I was probably reaching, thinking that Frank was acting in Henry’s stead.

  “He swore!” Ellis was back to yelling, but the effort was throwing him more and more off balance. “That man said that the special projects would be fine, so long as everyone kept their mouths shut.”

  At this, my head popped back up. “Special projects?”

  “He swore!” Ellis listed again, before he started to drop. Nic swung him into the chair as his eyes closed. “He swore—”

  “I heard. You just rest.” Nic waited until Ellis’s eyes were closed before he looked at me. “Is this town always this exciting, or is it just me?”

  “It’s definitely you. You’re trouble. I knew it the moment I saw you.”

  “Sure. I’m sure that’s what you were thinking.” His smile told me enough to know what he was insinuating.

  “Shush and call John. I’m sure that our little blabbermouth over there needs some time in confinement.” I gave Ellis an unhappy look, then watched as Nic moved away to make the phone call. Miguel intercepted him, both of them talking in low tones that I couldn’t overhear. All of the other staff had cleared out, obviously smarter than we had been.

  “Okay, what was that about? The whole story,” Julia demanded, her arms still wrapped around her son. “I know it’s involving the dead guy.”

  “Short story, my business partner was covering up for insider trading for two gentleman, whom one is his brother.” I pointed to where Ellis was snoring with a wince. Nic was talking with two men near the door, both dressed in Barrow Bay police uniforms, but I couldn’t see who it was. As we watched they came in, propping Ellis up on their shoulders and with a quick nod, they took him out the door.

  “Yeah, I got that. And?”

  “It’s not really appropriate for little ears.”

  “He’s the nephew of a cop. He’s heard worse. Spill it.”

  “Well, my partner was murdered at the hotel yesterday, and Dan is suspect number one. After this, maybe higher than one?”

  “Are they going to arrest him?”

  “Not that I know off. But they wouldn’t tell me.” I sighed. “And my business is going down, all because of special projects.” I spit out the last two words in disgust.

  “What are special projects?”

  “I have no idea.” But after this? I was going to find out.

  Starting with Donald. The piece to this puzzle that didn’t fit

  Chapter 10

  By one o’clock, I dropped Julia and Logan at the hotel and into Judy’s waiting arms for their tour of the house across from Lark’s. Nic took one look at Judy and stayed in the car. I didn’t blame him. Judy’s grin took a notably wolfish tone when she looked at him. He was being stalked. Like a gazelle. And I was having too much fun making sure he knew it.

  “Are you going to get out?” I asked, looking at him without moving my hands from the wheel.

  “No.” He didn’t look at me. Coward.

  “You sure? Looks like Judy’s waiting for you.” Yeah, I was a horrible person. I was okay with it.

  “No.”

  “I feel bad. She’s clearly waiting.” She wasn’t, but I had a feeling he wasn’t going to check.

  “She shouldn’t be. Drive.” He gestured toward the road. Still not looking at me or where Judy had been standing.

  Hmm. Should I take him to my house where his car should be, like a nice person? Nah.

  I drove to Lark’s house, a cute classic cottage that was ancient. I think it was built when they founded the town, and she loved it. I couldn’t see why. The newer construction was just as cute, with half the issues.

  “Why are we here?” Nic asked, looking at her house.

  “Because kidnapping is how Lark made her man fall madly in love with her and I’m under orders to try it, too.” Straight face. Keep a straight face.

  His face turned white.

  I locked the doors.

  Yep. That was panic. I should probably be insulted, but it was too hard not to laugh. He was an FBI agent. He should be able to remember that he could just unlock it from the inside. Unlike me.

  “Let me out,” he said, glaring at me.

  “Sure.” I unlocked the door. He looked at me. Then the door. Then me. I smiled. “Aren’t you going to get out?” Innocent. Nice and innocent.

  “What’s your angle?”

  “Torturing you,” I answered, honestly. And by doing so, forgetting my own problems.

  “You know kidnapping is a federal offense.”

  “Is it?” Blink. Blink. I was so innocent angels would’ve been jealous.

  “I’m getting out.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t stopping him.

  He looked at the door again, suspiciously. Too suspiciously.

  “You have brothers, don’t you?” I couldn’t hold back my laughter anymore.

  “Yes.”

  Ha! He expected me to lock the door as soon as he went for it. Please. I wouldn’t. Maybe. I had to admit that the idea had some merit.

  “I may be pathetic, but I don’t need to kidnap a man,” I told him the truth, instead.

  “Why do you think you’re pathetic?” He looked over at me, surprised.

  I gave him a flat look. “Please. You took one look around my home and decided to try and seduce me. Probably after you saw all the dating books. You think I’m pathetic and desperate.”

  His jaw dropped.

  Huh. That looked pretty convincing. Was I wrong?

  “I didn’t. Well, I did decide to flirt with you, but it wasn’t... I didn’t... I’m not sure that…” He stopped with a heavy sigh. “This isn’t making me sound any better.”

  At least he realized it. I smiled at his bitter tone. “I’m picking up Lark for High Tea. You don’t have to come.”

  “Yes. I do.” His tone was even more bitter.

  “Orders?” I asked, trying to hide my laugh. I didn’t do it well.

  “That’s where Carrie wants to meet us.”

  “Carrie?”

  “The woman you talked with earlier. When you wouldn’t come out of your car.”

  “Ahh. How did she know where we were going? Why does she want to meet us?”

  “Closing up the insider trading investigation.”

  “What? You guys are done?” There was a good point to this day, and I had found it. Other than meeting an actual, real live drag queen.

  “Well, the team is. I get to stay to close up the murder investigation.” He muttered with a grimace.

  “You sound bitter.”

  He returned my flat look from earlier. “I’m being set up.”

  “Yes, you are. Why fight it?” Since we were being honest and everything.

  “Because I like being an FBI agent.”

  “Do you?” I really wanted to know that answer. Could he be like me and be questioning his career choice? “Do you really like your job? Or do you just think you should?”

  That earned me a full glare. Then a sigh. He looked away and studied the street for a few minutes before he turned back. “Yes. No. Some days. It is all I can ever remember wanting to be.”

  “And now?”

  “Now? I love it, but… I have started to think there might be other things I like more.”

  “Like?”

  He threw me a sharp glance, one that felt more important than I could understand. “Just...more.”

  I had no idea what to say to ‘more.’ “I hate my job. Well, that's not completely right. I like doing it, but everything that comes with it... I hate it. I hate dealing with over-egoed CEOs that think they know more than me because of a title. Or even worse, their minions, who don’t trust me because I’m a woman, or an accountant, or whatever other flaw they found that day. I hate that I have no life because I’m constantly working. I don’t even have the time to go grocery shopping, so I end up eating Chinese all the time, because we live in a small town and they were the only people I could bribe into delivering to me. And now I’m fat,
single, pathetic, and going on a date tonight with Donald Watts.” Mostly so I could pump him for information, but the point still stood.

  “You could say no to the date with Donald,” he pointed out.

  “No, I couldn’t. Dorothy picked him out for me. Donald.” I shuddered. “I even hate the name. That’s who they think I should be with. A Donald.”

  “Okay, one—there is nothing wrong with the name Donald. I think you just don’t like this one. And two—you can say no. Like right now. Call Dorothy up and say no. You are not a victim.”

  “No. I will just go on the date and then break it to Dorothy very softly that I’m uninterested,” I told him. Plus, I really wanted to know how he knew Frank. It was annoying me, and I had to ask someone. Donald was the least creepy of the two options.

  “Why?”

  “Because that's the polite thing to do.”

  “But what about—” He cut himself off with a click as his teeth slammed shut.

  “What about what?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped.

  I looked away as my phone buzzed. Jumping on the excuse to avoid the topic, I opened the text message.

  Lark: Is there a reason you are parked in front of my house? With Wolverine?

  I laughed slightly. Lark was horrible with remembering names, so she tended to give people nicknames. When we met, she called me Coco Chanel for weeks. I kind of missed it.

  Me: I have decided he’s Cyclops.

  Lark: Ouch. That whiny?

  Me: Yes.

  Lark: Hmm, Cyclops would be a better match for you, anyway.

  Me: Excuse me?

  Lark: Seriously. You love the classic hero. The do-gooder. The person who always put others above themselves.

  Okay, she might’ve had a point.

  Me: Maybe.

  Lark: There you go. Has he made a move?

  Maybe? But there was no way I was admitting that.

  Me: No. He’s investigating me.

  “Do you want me to make a move?”

  Shit.

  I looked up at Nic, who was clearly looking over my shoulder reading my text messages.

  “No. No reading my phone,” I cried, holding the phone to my chest.