Then he suddenly glanced up and I cringed at the familiar hardness of his features, the cold focus of his eyes. Back in work mode. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" From his tone, it didn't sound like a pleasure.
"Huh?"
His eyes swept round the storeroom. "Your fast recovery for one thing, and your sudden desire to work."
I stood, opened my mouth to defend myself then realized I didn't have a leg to stand on. He was right to be suspicious. I hadn't been sick and I was only working so I could borrow the receiver. Still, I didn't like his tone and his automatic assumption that I was lying.
"I felt a lot better once I threw up a couple times," I said. "And daytime TV is crap, so I thought I might as well come in here. Since I've been lying in bed all morning, I wanted to do something more physical than sit at my desk." There, that sounded believable.
"Maybe if you weren't out partying all night, you wouldn't—"
"I wasn't out partying!" The Grotto was definitely no party.
"Right. I'll leave you to it." And he left. Just like that.
Boy, his attitude really ticked me off. I might be lying about the stomach bug and the reason for cleaning up, but I wasn't lying about being at a party.
He must think I'm some sort of party girl. Ugh. I can't stand those types. The ones who stumble home at six in the morning, vodka up to their eyeballs, and falling over a guy they met only an hour ago whose name they can't even remember. I grew out of that phase at least two years ago. Except for the vodka part which I indulged in most Saturday nights with Gina.
I followed him up the hallway, unable to let it go. "I was not out partying or drinking or whatever you think I was doing last night, Will, but if I was, it's none of your damn business."
He stopped and turned, very slowly, very deliberately. Uh-oh, firing time. But all he said was, "Fine," through tight lips, and kept going.
Don't walk away from me, I wanted to say, but refrained. He was still my boss and could fire me at any time. I figured he didn't need any more reasons and he didn't owe my Dad that much. "Didn't you want to talk to me about the missing money?" I asked instead.
He stopped again, his hand on the door handle. "Are you feeling up to it?"
"Yes." Hell yes! Although nailing Tanya's butt to the wall wouldn't be as sweet since she and Will broke up, but anything was better than cleaning the storeroom.
"Then you better come in." He stood aside and I stepped past him. I dodged the stacks of files on the floor and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.
He sat on the other side and rifled through some papers then straightened them up, all the while shifting in his chair like he couldn't get comfortable. Funny, the guy who liked to chew me out over not working, didn't want to confront me about stolen money. Go figure. I decided not to make it easy for him. I wasn't feeling so generous after the partying comment.
"Right," he said for the third time. "Okay. Let's see."
"For crying out loud. Spit it out, Will."
I don't think he liked me telling him what to do because he sat up straight and his eyes locked with mine. "I got a call from my accountant yesterday. He said we're spending too much money."
"On stationery and other petty cash items?"
His mouth opened slightly then snapped shut. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and screwed up his eyes. "Cat, I didn't want to believe it but…" The sentence dangled like a noose.
"But we don't go through that much in a year."
"Yeah," he said quietly, meeting my gaze. "Cat, why?"
I threw up my hands and let them slap down on the chair. "So you've already decided I'm guilty, is that it?" I shook my head in disbelief and stood. "Thanks very much, Will. I know you don't like me, but you could have at least investigated before you accused me. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Investigate?"
He stood abruptly too, but said nothing. His face closed down, an expressionless mask in place.
"I'm surprised you didn't put a camera in reception to spy on me." Oh shit. "You didn't, did you?"
"No!"
I stormed back to the storeroom. He followed.
"Look, Cat, I didn't investigate because, well, really, who else could it be?"
I rounded on him. "Maybe you should ask your ex-girlfriend."
"Tanya? Why?"
God, men are dumb sometimes. I could spot the moment the light dawned for Will. He rushed past me, opened the filing cabinet and rifled through it. When he couldn't find what he wanted, he swore.
"Where the hell are the petty cash receipts?"
I handed him a box. "I haven't got around to filing them yet."
He sifted through the receipts, checking each one. When he finished, he placed the box on the filing cabinet and pressed his hands to the top drawer. His head bowed as if it were too heavy to hold up anymore.
I didn't know what to do. Should I touch his shoulder? Console him? Question him? In the end, I just waited.
Eventually he turned round. He looked sicker than I was supposed to have felt that morning. "Cat, I'm really sorry. The receipts were all from before your time and…" He sighed. "I was an asshole to you just now and you didn't deserve it. Forgive me?" It was a Mastercard moment. Priceless. Not only had he admitted he was wrong but he wanted my forgiveness.
"Can you put the part about you being sorry in writing first?"
A ghost of a smile flittered across his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."
It was only a "maybe" but I let it slide. "What are you going to do?"
He sighed. "Tanya doesn't work here anymore and I probably won't ever see her again. I don't want to see her again. But if I take action, I'll have to. What price peace?"
I wasn't sure if that was the right attitude but I could see where he was coming from. Not having anything to do with Tanya again would be high on my list too.
"It's getting late," he said. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? You can tackle the storeroom tomorrow."
No need to tell me twice. I picked up my bag, said goodbye to Carl, and left. I went to see Gina and updated her on the status between Tanya and Will.
"No way!" she squealed, her eyes bugging out of her head. Gina is only a little taller than me but her curves put mine to shame. Her mother is African-American, her father Italian and she's got the best of both worlds in the looks department. A rear-end like an Olympic sprinter, a chest that porn stars pay big money to emulate, and the bone structure of a model. All that wrapped in mocha skin and she was a walking man magnet. All kinds of men went for Gina—black, white, Latino, rich, poor, smart or dumb—but she never kept any of them for long. "Still looking for Mr. Right" she always said. I didn't have the heart to tell her Mr. Right was an urban myth and she should settle for Mr. Nice With A Good Job And A Mother Living Two States Away. But all that looking kept her life full and her bed warm.
"So how did it happen? Did she storm out in tears? I want details, Cat."
I told her they'd broken up a while ago then I told her about the modeling agent firing her and the missing money.
"I knew she was trouble." Gina stuck a hand on her out-thrust hip and gave me a cheeky smile. "So, does this mean Will's free?"
My jaw dropped. "You're going to go for him?" I would have laughed but it wasn't very funny. Will and Gina were all wrong. He was intense and broody, especially lately, and she was a flighty motor mouth. Don't get me wrong, I love her to bits, but man can she talk. It didn't matter what she spoke about, she always had something more to say. Sometimes it took all my energy not to tell her to shut up, and we were best friends. Imagine if she and Will went on a date. He wouldn't be able to stand it! Patience wasn't a virtue he'd mastered.
Then again, Gina was very attractive. And maybe she wouldn't talk all the time. During sex for example…
"Um, Gina, I don't think—"
A customer walked in and she hushed me with a wave of her hand. "Talk later." We air kissed and I left as she went into saleswoman from hell mode.
I got in my car and drove to Mom's. We had roast chicken with yummy crispy potatoes for dinner. Comfort food. I ate two helpings because I knew it would be the last decent meal until the next time I visited.
After dinner I showed her the receiver and we looked it up in her book. It could pick up sounds up to a hundred feet from the microphone. Perfect.
"So when do you plan on using it?" Mom asked, blunt as ever.
I shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I won't." No need to tell her I planned on sleeping in my car that night outside Lou's place. Some things a mother shouldn't know. Fortunately she seemed to believe me and dropped the questioning.
Half an hour later, I was home. I showered, changed into my black detective clothes and drove round to Lou's. I parked down the road behind a van and tuned in the receiver. I picked up voices straight away.
"There's a lot of blood," said a man.
Holy cow! Blood?
He started talking about blood spatter and voids and I blew out a sigh. It was CSI on TV.
I listened to the entire show. During the ad breaks, I heard the toilet flush, the microwave beep and the phone ring. It must have been Valerie because Lou started telling her what he'd like to do to her body later. I nearly threw up my dinner when he mentioned bending her over the couch. After he hung up, it occurred to me I should put a listening device in her place too since he spent so much time there. Maybe they might even discuss the whereabouts of the jewelry. That's something a man might talk about with his girlfriend.
I groaned. I didn't really want to lie my way into another home, and I definitely didn't want to pretend to clean up the storeroom again.
A few minutes later, I heard Lou's front door open and close and then he appeared downstairs. He wore a nice shirt and his hair looked washed so I guessed he was going to see Valerie. He got into his Camaro and took off. I pressed my foot to the floor and sped after him. Even though I'd been to her place before, I didn't want to lose him in case he detoured on the way.
Another P.I. lesson—when following a suspect, don't use a vehicle he'd recognize. If I'd known Lou wasn't staying inside all evening, I'd have borrowed Mom's or Gina's car.
I lost him anyway when he ran a red light. I braked hard and thumped my palm on the steering wheel. Where the hell are the cops when you actually need them?
When the lights turned green, I headed to Valerie's. I was nearly there when I got a prickly feeling on the back of my neck and the hairs on my arms stood up. I checked my rearview mirror and nearly veered off the road.
A red Camaro followed me.
Chapter 4
I didn't have to see Lou's face to know he had the same menacing look in his eyes that he'd had in the parking lot at The Grotto. I shivered and rolled up my window. I wasn't taking any chances when we stopped at the lights.
What the hell did he think he would achieve by following me? Surely he must know I'd spotted him. The Camaro was so far up my ass I couldn't miss it. Maybe he just wanted to get his own back. Maybe he wanted to scare me into leaving him alone.
Too bad, because I didn't scare easily. I worked for Will Knight. Enough said.
After a few minutes it became pretty clear he wouldn't go away, nor would he force me off the road. Not on the main streets of Renford—too risky.
If I wanted to get rid of him, I had to take the initiative. I flexed my fingers on the steering wheel and sped up. The Camaro had no problem keeping pace.
Shit.
Okay. Obviously my little Civic couldn't outrun him so I had to try something else. I spun the wheel hard to the right and turned down a side street, then left into another and finally returned to Nicholson Street, a main road. I spotted a tight break in the oncoming traffic and did a sharp U-turn to change direction.
The Camaro was still on my tail. A few more fancy turns later and I'd run out of options, and it wouldn't be long before I also ran out of gas. I found myself wondering what Will or Carl would do then I realized they wouldn't have ended up in such a dangerous situation in the first place.
Okay, if I couldn't get rid of him the action-movie way, it was time to get rid of him the Cat Sinclair way.
I slowed down to the speed limit and dug my cell phone out of my handbag. I dialed the police and reported a driver swerving dangerously in a red Camaro heading east along Nicholson.
A short time later flashing lights and a siren heralded their arrival behind Lou. The Camaro pulled over and I got out of there as fast as I could without breaking any laws.
I headed home, too spooked to go to Valerie's and finish the surveillance. What was the point anyway? I hadn't wired her house and Lou knew my car. Next time I'd be better prepared.
My alarm woke me at seven. The phone woke me again at eight-thirty. It was Carl.
"I think you better get in here." He sounded edgy. "Roberta Scarletti is waiting for you."
Roberta? What was she doing at the office? Oh yeah, she didn't know I was working freelance.
"Will's not there yet, is he?" I asked Carl.
"He had an early morning meeting with Slim but I expect him in soon."
Damn. "If he gets there before me, make sure he and Roberta don't talk." I hung up on his protests. Poor Carl. He hated being caught in the middle. Whenever Will and I got into a verbal tussle, he hid in his office and emerged only when the coast was clear. He was Switzerland—neutral, keeping his nose out of our business. If he covered for me and Will found out, Switzerland would be compromised.
I had a quick shower, dressed in a knee-length white pencil skirt, white strappy shoes and a peacock blue top with capped sleeves. Very summery but probably not very professional. I didn't have time to dry my hair so I left it damp and tied it up in a tight twist. I took my makeup and a banana with me. While stopped at the red traffic lights, I ate the banana and applied mascara and a soft peach lipstick. I popped a mint from the packet I keep in the glove compartment into my mouth because there's nothing worse than banana breath. Except maybe coffee breath.
Mmmm, coffee.
When I parked outside the office I breathed a sigh of relief when I couldn't see Will's car. Or Lou's Camaro. Safe.
The day already felt warm. Later, with the afternoon sun blaring through the front window, the air conditioning would struggle to keep the office cool.
Brightly colored floral bunches spruced up the uneven, dirty footpath outside Gina's shop, but she must have been out the back because I couldn't see her. No time to stop and chat anyway.
In the office, Roberta sat on the edge of the couch, her short fingernails tapping against the black handbag in her lap. Carl sat at my desk, fingers steepled. When I walked in, he stood and cast me a Don't ever do that to me again look, then disappeared into his office and shut the door.
"Roberta, hi, sorry I'm late, the traffic was terrible."
Roberta burst into tears.
I froze, wondering what I'd said or done wrong, then I mobilized. I'm good at consoling. You should have seen me at Aunt May's funeral. I had tissues and soothing words in abundance.
With an arm around Roberta's shoulders, I steered her toward the front door. "Let's go to the café over the road and you can tell me all about it. I hear they have great coffee."
We settled down in a corner of Trendz Café and sipped lattés. Roberta had stopped crying but her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes swollen. She sniffed every five seconds and I wished I had a tissue to offer. Digging my fingernails into my palms to distract myself from the irritating noise, I asked her what was wrong.
"It's Lou." Her voice cracked again and she put her hand to her wobbly mouth.
I bristled, anger surging. What had that bastard done now? He'd managed to intimidate me so I could only imagine what he'd said to frighten a rabbit like Roberta.
"He didn't visit you did he?" I asked. "Or call you and threaten to—"
"He's dead."
Nothing could have stunned me more. I sat back with a thud. I think my mouth fell open and I know I stared at Robert
a like I'd seen a naked alien land in my living room doing the Macarena. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "The police called me this morning." She sobbed into her hand.
I leaned forward and touched her other hand, resting on the table. "Oh, Roberta, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you still had feelings for him."
She shook her head. "I don't. I just know I'll never get my jewels back now."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. She sounded a little mercenary. I could understand her not being upset over Lou's death but he had been her husband for fifteen years. Surely she felt something, even if it was only disappointment that he wasn't around to see her get her life back on track.
"How did he die?" I asked.
"Murdered."
"Murdered!" Oh. My. God.
I'd expected her to say heart attack or stroke. Lou looked like a man with a fondness for takeout and an aversion to exercise. Maybe even an accident in his Camaro. But murdered? Holy crap.
"In his apartment," she said.
An unsettling thought struck me—if I'd been listening in to the transmitter I planted in his apartment, I could have heard the killer. I might have been able to prevent his death.
"He wasn't at Valerie's last night?"
Roberta wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. "Apparently not."
"Who would kill him?"
"You mean apart from me?" She shrugged. "I have no idea."
I nearly choked on my latté. "You didn't did you?"
"No!"
Phew. It would be just my luck that my first client turned out to be a murderer.
"I thought he was clean after coming out of jail," she said. "As far as I know, he hadn’t been in any trouble."
"Actually he’s been associating with some shady characters lately. Ex-cons, that sort of thing."
She raised her unruly eyebrows. "Really?" But she didn’t sound overly surprised. I guess that’s what happens when you live with a pig for so long—you get used to the flies. "Maybe one of them killed him."
"I’m sure the police will find out who did it."
She nodded. "So what are we going to do?"
Rebel Without A Clue Page 5