Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “So everyone at the dinner thought you were together?” I asked.

  “I guess,” Sebastian said.

  “Who would they have been?”

  Sebastian smiled. Not a genuine smile, but a knowing smile. “Sorry, I’m not going to tell you any names. Besides, you already know the others, Henry and Esme. Anyone else doesn’t really matter that much.”

  “But it might,” I suggested.

  “Probably not.” Sebastian looked at his watch.

  “At least tell me about dinner. Anything weird happen? Anyone seem tense?”

  “No, not really. When I got there Henry and Esme had just arrived. We went into the place together and a few minutes later the other guy arrived.”

  “The Prince,” I prompted.

  “Yes.”

  “So what’s his real name?” I tried again.

  Sebastian ignored the question. “We ate and had some wine, talked over the project. Esme was going to give the presentation at City Hall, and all was good.”

  “No one came to or left the table?” The same as I’d asked Henry.

  “Sure, Esme said she had to go to the bathroom, but I think that was it. No one came by to say hi or anything. I didn’t even see anyone I recognized, other than our party.”

  “And you all left together?”

  “No. I took Esme home. Henry and the other guy stayed on to have drinks at the bar. Henry said he’d like to be nice and drunk before Lauren got home.”

  So Henry didn’t stay behind just to work on their PR campaign some more. Why didn’t he tell me that? Well, maybe he didn’t want to admit he wasn’t looking forward to Lauren coming home after the signing.

  “Did you go inside?” I asked.

  “Inside where?” Sebastian replied.

  “Inside the house, when you took Esme home?”

  “Hell no. I told you, I wanted to back off the sex thing with Esme. If I’d gone into the house, she would have seduced me, and that was the last thing I needed. Don’t get me wrong, I like sex, but not sex with static cling.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, static cling. Some girls stick on like static cling if you have sex with them. Esme was one of those girls. I was trying to extricate myself from her, and going in that house wouldn’t have been a good idea. I dropped her at the back door.”

  Again, I could hear people walking and talking in the hall. This time I looked to see where the noise came from.

  “Anything else?” Sebastian looked at his watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

  “Just one question. Did you see any cars in the driveway? Or on the street?”

  “Not in the driveway. But as for the street, I really didn’t pay much attention.”

  “About what time did you drop Esme off?”

  He looked at his watch as if it held the answer. “I don’t know, around ten I guess.” Sebastian rolled his chair back. “Is that it?”

  I straightened, ready to stand, “For now, but may I call you in the future if I have any questions?”

  Sebastian stood along with me and came around the desk. I didn’t feel any insecurity from him, as Susan had mentioned. I felt only cocky self-satisfaction.

  “Call anytime.” He had his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your car. Do you have a business card, in case I think of something relevant?”

  I did, and I reach into my clutch purse and pulled one out. When I handed it to him, he touched my hand and I felt myself melt a little. As much as I hate to admit it, I could see us horizontal with the lights out. I’d always wanted to do it with a guy who was different. Sebastian definitely qualified as different. Goodness, I’d been a walking hormone attack this week.

  Walking to my Land Rover, he kept his hand between my shoulders, much as he did when we started to his office.

  Sebastian suddenly stopped. “Wait here.”

  He jogged toward a black BMW and I heard the beep-beep of a security alarm. He reached inside for something, and then closed the door, re-engaged the alarm and jogged back to me. “Here.”

  He handed me a cell phone.

  “No thanks. I already have one,” I said.

  He shook his head. “This is Esme’s.”

  “What?” How on earth did he have Esme’s phone?

  “I took her home Monday night. It must have fallen on the floor when she got out of the car.”

  “So you didn’t know it was there? No one ever called while it was in your car?” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t known it was there.

  “I left my car at my apartment. I flew out very early Tuesday morning. I found it when I got back last night. By then the phone was dead. I figured I’d give it to the cops when they got around to talking to me. But since you’re here, and the next best thing to a cop, I’m giving it to you.”

  The story was plausible. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Thanks. I’ll make sure Nick gets it.” I carefully placed it on the console of my car. I stepped in and closed the door. Sebastian remained by my car door, so I rolled the window down.

  He leaned down, his azure eyes level with mine. “Ms. Capurro, I think I’d like to see you again.”

  “Call me Mimi,” I said, then rolled up the window and got the hell out of there.

  At this point I had no viable suspect, no motives, but plenty of opportunity. Mostly, I didn’t know who was telling the truth and who was lying. My cell phone rang.

  The caller ID was unknown. I answered anyway.

  It was the same voice from this morning. “You aren’t listening very well. I see you’re still snooping. Stop now, before I have to stop you.”

  13

  Slightly spooked by the call, I drove directly to the cop shop in Salinas. From Sebastian’s office in Monterey it was only a fifteen-minute drive. With all of the identical Crown Vics in the parking lot, I had no idea if Nick was in, so I parked at the front of the police station on Lincoln Avenue and walked in through the lobby.

  I pushed open the glass door and walked into a busy room. There were three uniformed officers working with civilians and one on the telephone. The walls were a dark blue, with a huge replica of a Salinas Police Department badge behind the reception desk.

  I stood in line at the desk. I hadn’t been there a minute when Officer Beal walked in. I turned my head as quickly as I could, but he still recognized me.

  “Hey, detective,” he said, sauntering up very close.

  I stepped away from him. “Officer Beal.”

  He stepped toward me again, invading my personal space. “Here to see me?”

  Again, I stepped back. “No. Is Nick, I mean Detective Christianson in?”

  He leaned down. “I’ll go check for you,” he whispered. He straightened and said, “I recognized the shoes.”

  Oh, yeah. Once again, I’d embarrassed myself. No wonder Sebastian was so friendly. I’d forgotten I’d dressed to get noticed. And here I was, waiting to see Nick. He was going to think I wanted him. Well, I did want him, but not like that.

  Officer Beal left and was back before I realized he was gone. He only came halfway through the door. He waved me toward it without speaking. I followed his direction through the door. Beyond the first door he led me to a side room with cubicles aligned along the far wall. There was only a slim aisle, so he stood at the door and pointed to the right.

  “Last desk on the right,” he said. To Nick he said, “DB, you got company.”

  Nick peeked around the corner, then immediately moved back behind the partition.

  The room was a blue-gray color, with dividers only slightly lighter in shade. Each cubicle held two desks, with loads of files and paperwork. Photos and notes were tacked on the partitions. I eased toward Nick’s desk to find him on the phone. He motioned for me to take a seat at the desk opposite his. I did.

  He leaned forward on his desk, with his hand over the speaking end of the phone. I guess he didn’t want me to hear his side of the conversation. I didn’t want to he
ar it anyway. I was sick to death of this murder. I’d met a friend who may not be a friend at all, a boyfriend who wasn’t a boyfriend and who wanted to let me know he was definitely single, and I’d picked up a serial caller. Throw in Henry, who wasn’t telling me the whole truth; Lauren, who was more concerned with her writing career than her assistant’s murder; and the office I’d left in shambles, I needed a drink.

  Nick hung up the phone. He turned to face me when another detective came over to his cubicle.

  “Yo DB, who’s this lovely lady?” The detective was tall, trim, and had the dry, creased skin of a lifetime smoker. He smelled like stale tobacco.

  “She’s not as lovely as she looks,” Nick said. “This is Mimi Capurro, owner of the Gotcha Detective Agency. Ever heard of it?”

  The detective winced. “Oh, yeah. I think my wife hired you about a year ago.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Were you cheating on her?”

  “Funny thing, my mistress is my job, and when she realized it, she wanted a divorce. I think a real woman she could have understood. Crazy, huh?”

  I had to admit it was crazy. “Yup,” I said. I stood to shake his hand. “I’m Mimi, and you are?”

  “Detective Sergeant Ronald Haussler. Ron.” He shook my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Sergeant,” Nick said. “Now Mimi and I have some private business to discuss.”

  “Excuse the piss out of me,” Detective Haussler said. He turned to go without further comment.

  Appalled, I said, “That was rude.”

  Nick looked at me. “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s the DB?” When I heard Beal say it, I didn’t quite get it.”

  “Defensive back. They still remember me from the good old days.” Nick was referring to his professional football career.

  “Do they know the whole story?” I treaded lightly.

  Nick growled. “Who doesn’t, it was all over the papers. The media never lets anyone with any money live down the mistakes they make. Hell, it was front of the sports page when I joined the SFPD.”

  The headlines featured Nick’s trouble with drugs and alcohol. Nick had been an outstanding defensive back. In his short career in the NFL, he’d maxed out his chances to clean up. Back in the day, they called it a Three Strikes Rule, even though it was football. Along with the third drunk driving charge, he also had a number of other issues with teammates and the public. On strike three, Nick was released from the San Francisco team. On the bright side, he’d garnered three Super Bowl rings with two teams in those four years.

  I didn’t want to pry, but I couldn’t help it. “So how has life been since football?”

  “Not as good as it was when I was in the NFL. But being a cop has mental and physical challenges I could never have imagined. I like it most days. But to be honest, I really miss the money from pro sports.” Nick sounded nostalgic.

  “Life goes on,” I said. “At least you can still get out of bed in the morning.”

  “True.”

  “You ever talk to Tomey? He has to take six different meds just to get through his day.”

  Nick smiled. “Wow, I haven’t thought about Tomey in years. Is he back in Salinas?”

  “It doesn’t matter how big you guys get in the sporting world, you all come back home.”

  Of the class we went to junior college with, there were at least two players who went to the pros in basketball, baseball, and football. And other than the guys still coaching professional teams, the others had all come home to roost. And now Nick had come home too.

  “This isn’t really home, you know.” Nick reminded me.

  “That’s right. Your mom still lives in Cleveland?” I’d never met his mom, but I’d heard a lot about her in the years when we were still talking.

  “She’s buried there. She died of brain cancer before I left the NFL.”

  “Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” I felt like crap for asking.

  “At least she didn’t live to see my disgrace.”

  I just nodded. What did a person say to that?

  “How about you? You said your husband died.” Tit for tat.

  “Yeah, a few years ago in a plane crash. But there was no burial, since they never found his body.” I felt as if a blood pressure cuff had been put on my heart, and was being pumped. This wasn’t my favorite conversation. Time doesn’t heal as quickly as I’d like.

  “How did you end up working as a PI?”

  Thank God, he knew when to change the subject. “I had no desire to get my Master’s, and that’s what it was to take to get a decent job as a trainer, so I jumped at a chance to join the Secret Service.”

  Nick laughed. “And I always thought I’d see you working with the Olympic athletes. I even looked for you during the televised games. I remember you’d had a phone interview with someone in Colorado Springs.”

  There I was, back to Dominic’s death again.

  “Funny how life gets in the way of our plans,” I said. “When Dominic died, I decided to go into business for myself. I’d quit The Service a few months before the crash, and used the hours I’d worked serving papers for the Sheriff’s department to get my PI license. Do you have any idea how many hours of private eye service you have to put in to get this damn license?”

  I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. I wished I could see what he had on his desk. I blurted, “I have some information for you.”

  Did I say I’d had it with this case? So I lied.

  “It couldn’t possibly be information related to Esme’s murder because I’ve already told you to stay out of it.” His voice held a stern warning, which I promptly ignored.

  “That Sebastian is a cutie,” I said. “Okay, I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll be going.” I stood.

  “Sit.” Nick snapped his fingers and pointed to the chair.

  “I’m not a dog, Nick.” Now I was pissed and not sure I wanted to tell him anything.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I can’t believe you were able to talk to Sebastian.”

  “Do you want to hear about my meeting or not?”

  Nick acquiesced. “I’m all ears.”

  So not true. He was all man, in many ways, but that was beside the point now. So I told him all about my meeting with Sebastian, up to and including the Camarilla, the dinner meeting, which Nick already knew about, and the way Sebastian came on to me.

  “Well, you aren’t exactly ugly.” Nick stated this in a matter-of-fact way.

  “I think that was a compliment. Even coming from you.”

  Nick pulled at his tie. It was the first time I’d noticed what he was wearing. The man dressed rather dapper. He wore chocolate brown, flat-front slacks with a nicely pressed crease and loafers in a similar shade. His argyle socks were a pattern of brown and pink that complimented his pale pink shirt and lavender tie. The man had worn brown, pink, and lavender, and made it look masculine and sexy. He and Charles could share a closet.

  “You’ve always been very cute. And now that you are a woman you are very sexy. Just because I’m not happy to have you snooping in my case doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you again after all these years.” He leaned forward and touched my hand.

  Holy pheromones, it was getting hot.

  Then he said, “And you smell divine.”

  Thank you, Donna Karan.

  Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush, I kept telling myself. It didn’t work. I heated up enough that I could feel the fire in my cheeks, and spreading.

  “You too,” I said. And he did smell good. A hell of a lot better than Haussler.

  “So Sebastian wants to do you, huh?” Nick asked. He took his hand away but still sat close.

  “Why do you have to be so crass?” I liked Nick knowing a younger guy was interested.

  “By what you told me, he wants to see you again.” Did he sound jealous? Nah, Nick didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  “Maybe he just wants to get together for drinks and talk.”

  �
��Wake up, Mimi. He’s a guy. He wants to have sex with an older woman.”

  Ouch, the older woman thing stung. “Whatever. Maybe I’d like to have sex with him, too. It’s been a long time.” Oh boy, how did that last statement slip out?

  Nick chuckled. “If you’re looking to get laid, here’s my card. Call me. I’d be happy to take care of it.” He flipped his card at me.

  This was the Nick I knew and regretted having sex with in college. To him, women were for sex and sex only. He had very little respect for females then, and even now from the sound of it. But the offer was tempting.

  What was wrong with me? I hadn’t thought about sex with a man since Dominic had died, and now, after a few minutes alone with Sebastian, and his body, his voice and the flirting, I was ready to jump Nick. I needed a cold shower. Then I remembered I’d be hitting the bar after this. I had a client to meet, or rather a client’s cheating husband.

  “I’ll probably get a little tonight without any help from you or Sebastian. Thanks.” Even though I knew I wouldn’t.

  “Is that why you came here, to tell me that Sebastian has the hots for you?”

  “No. I wanted to tell you I have serious doubts about the story they’re telling.”

  “Why’s that?” Nick swiveled in his chair.

  I swiveled too. “Henry says he stayed behind to work on the PR project. Sebastian says he stayed to get drunk before Lauren came home.”

  “So maybe that’s what Henry told Sebastian. Besides, he probably figured Sebastian wanted to be with Esme, and he didn’t want to hear the grunts and groans coming from down the hall.”

  “According to Sebastian, he and Esme were no longer a couple.”

  “Oh? That’s news.”

  “Sebastian said they were still friends, but the relationship was over. Something about static cling.”

  Nick laughed hard. “I get it.”

  I wasn’t sure what was so funny. “Okay, good.”