Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set

by Jamie Lee Scott

“Mimi, are you okay?”

  Oh shit, it was Charles.

  I struggled to get out from under Nick. Where was my bra, my shirt? By way of small wonders, we both still had our pants on.

  “Hold on, Charles, I’m coming.”

  I picked up my phone and looked at the time. Wow, we’d been necking for twenty minutes. How did I last that long?

  Nick sat up. “Not now, you aren’t.”

  I turned to Nick. “Shut up.” I threw his shirt at him. “Get dressed.”

  “Why? It’s just Charles.” Nick moved leisurely.

  “Because it’s Charles, you nitwit. He has a big mouth.” I tossed my bra behind the couch and pulled on my shirt.

  “Nitwit?” Nick laughed as he pushed his arm through a sleeve.

  I looked at him and rolled my eyes. I put my fingers in my hair and fluffed it. Then I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  I opened the door. “What’s up?”

  “What the hell’s the matter with you? I called and no one answered. I was scared to death something happened. And here you are with Nick.” He clipped the last word, then repeated, “And here you are with Nick.”

  “Come on in. Want some coffee?” I tried to cover my embarrassment.

  Charles, never one to leave when he should, said, “Sure.”

  “We were going over the murder book,” Nick said.

  Charles sat across from him. “I may have something more for your little murder book. That’s why I called.”

  I came back with a Bailey’s and coffee for Charles.

  He sipped. “This is good. But not as good as what I have.”

  I sat next to Nick on the couch, careful not to touch. “What?”

  Charles pulled out a stack of photos. He spread them across the table, over Nick’s papers. “These will make more sense after what we saw tonight.”

  Laying on the table were three photos of Henry and Eugene. The first photo showed the back of them walking away. The significance of the photo was in their relative positions. They were holding hands. The second and third photos pretty much confirmed what we had expected was going on in the back of Eugene’s Volvo.

  “Where did you get these?” Nick said, eyes wide.

  At that moment, I wished I was telepathic. I stared hard at Charles, willing him not to say anything. I hadn’t told Nick that Sebastian gave me Esme’s cell phone. If I’d ever had a wish come true, I needed it now.

  “Esme’s cell phone,” Charles said.

  If wishes were horses… looked like I’d be looking for a different cowboy to ride.

  Nick looked at me. I looked him in the eye and saw a completely different man than the one sprawled on top of me only minutes ago. Nick’s blue-gray eyes were dancing with fury.

  He looked back to Charles. “How did you get Esme’s phone?”

  Completely innocent, Charles said, “Mimi gave it to me.”

  I scooted to the far edge of the couch, wishing it was longer. Nick leveled his gaze at me. I smiled, lips closed, brows high.

  “Explain.” Nick spat the words.

  “Sebastian gave it to me. He said he found it in his car when he got back from his business trip. He said it was Esme’s, but it was dead, so he had no way of checking it. He didn’t have the same kind of charger hers had. Besides, he thought it was best to give it to the police. He gave it to me, and I decided to have Charles charge up the battery before I gave it to you.” I was talking as fast as a native New Yorker.

  Nick stood. “Are you brain dead?”

  Stunned, I said, “Excuse me?”

  “Why else would you hold onto a piece of key evidence that didn’t belong to you in the first place? What possessed you to think you had any right to accept that phone from Sebastian?”

  He was right. I had no defense. But he’d just called me brain dead. I stared at him, silent.

  “And why didn’t Sebastian think to tell me he’d given it to you?”

  I thought before speaking. Sebastian had done it again. This was another way to cast a shadow of doubt. I had walked right into his scheme. First, his confession of being in the house the night of the murder, and then he gave me the phone. I was an idiot.

  “Look, instead having a conniption fit, why not be happy I got these photos from the phone?” Charles asked. “And guess what, they match the garbled photos I was trying to clean up from Esme’s computer. This means we really do have a motive.”

  We both looked at our moderator, Charles. “Hello, are you hearing me?” he said.

  I spoke first. “So Esme did know about Henry and Eugene.”

  Charles aimed a finger pistol at me and pulled the trigger. “Bingo.”

  “Where’s the phone?” Nick snapped.

  “It’s at the office. I just brought the photos over.”

  Nick gathered up his papers and walked to the door, held the handle, and said, “Come on we’re going to go get it.”

  Charles said, “I still want to look at it closer. I haven’t had a chance to take down all the phone numbers. I got so excited when I saw the pictures I transferred them and printed them out.”

  “You’re not going to touch that phone again. This could blow our whole case to hell.” Nick shook his head, disgusted.

  “Before you scuttle out of here in a huff, I have something else.” Charles gathered up his pictures and stood. “I traced the phone calls Mimi’s been getting. I tracked the activation to the MallMart on North Davis Road.”

  Nick stepped away from the door. “Really. When?”

  “Tonight.” Charles gloated.

  “I mean when was it activated?” Nick’s irritation was raw.

  Charles shrugged. “Oh, it was activated on Monday afternoon. I wrote the exact time, but I left it at the office.”

  “So, what now?” I asked.

  Nick looked at me. “This is great. MallMarts have surveillance cameras. We can get the tapes from the time when the phone was activated and see who bought the phone.”

  “Won’t you need a warrant?” Charles asked.

  Nick turned to Charles. “I’ve never wanted to hug a man as much as I want to hug you. But I’m too pissed about the phone to do it.”

  Charles blushed.

  Nick added, “I’ll see if they’ll cough up the tapes without a warrant first. It’ll be quicker. The threatening phone calls may not be enough for a warrant anyway. Depends on the judge, and I haven’t dealt with any judges yet. I’ve only been with the SPD a short time.”

  The tension in the room seemed to ease. “Come on Charles, I’ll meet you at the Gotcha office.”

  Charles looked at me. I nodded.

  I was glad to be rid of both of them. I needed a cold shower.

  21

  The weekend was spent putting needles back in the correct haystacks. The temps had accomplished quite a bit, but there were going to be miles to go before I slept. I had to beg out on dinner and drinks with my mom and Luke. Charles was true to his word and didn’t work the weekend. But he’d done a lot on Friday night, and I didn’t blame him.

  Since I didn’t have any cases to work over the weekend, I needed something to keep my mind busy. Every once in a while we do something that embarrasses us even when we are alone. And every time I thought about Nick on top of me on my couch I got embarrassed. I’d concentrate on the work at hand and stop thinking about it, but a pinch in my heart would set my mind back to Nick with his shirt off and his pants unzipped.

  It was during one of those moments that I was having on Sunday afternoon when my cell phone sang. I looked at the caller ID. I’d stopped answering any calls with “unknown” or “private.” It was Nick.

  My stomach did a flip and I pressed the button. “This is Mimi.”

  “Hey, what are you doing right now?”

  “Twiddling my thumbs. You?” I didn’t want to sound like I was glad to hear from him, though I was.

  “I’m getting ready to head to the MallMart on North Davis. Want to go?”

 
No! I didn’t want to see Nick again for a very long time. At least long enough to forget that I’d let him seduce me. And yet I really wanted to go with him.

  “You want to stop at the office and pick me up?” I tried not to sound too anxious.

  “Lock up and let’s go. I’m at the curb.” I could hear the smile in Nick’s voice.

  I smiled to myself, giddy with the thought of doing something other than shuffling papers. My hair was up in a knot at the back of my head, and my face was sans makeup. I hadn’t expected to see anyone, so why get all dolled up? And I had my favorite yoga pants on. I don’t do yoga, but I love the clothes. Somehow I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t even take the time to check myself in the mirror as I grabbed my handbag and jogged to the door. I even jogged to Nick’s car.

  He wasn’t in his Crown Vic. He drove a convertible Porsche Boxter. I didn’t know what year it was, and I didn’t care. The top was down, and the sun was out. I felt a little underdressed until I looked inside and saw Nick.

  He looked better than I imagined. He wore faded jeans and a very old San Jose State football sweatshirt. I swear, casual is sexier than dressed up any day. I hopped in the passenger seat and vowed to enjoy the ride.

  And a short ride at that. We only had to travel up Market Street to Davis and head north. The MallMart was part of a newer shopping complex off the 101 Highway. As usual the parking lot was packed, and Nick parked his car as far from the store as he could, hoping no one would park next to his car and ding it. This is usually an invitation to do just that for people who hate people with money. But to avoid that, Nick pulled a car cover out from the trunk and handed me a corner.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, this car is my baby. It’s the only thing left from my glory days. I intend to keep it pristine.” Nick lovingly tucked his end of the cover under the front bumper.

  I laughed and stretched my side of the cover toward the back bumper. I wish I’d had those kinds of glory days. But maybe I could start my own by helping solve a murder. I’d be proud of that accomplishment.

  “So I just want you to step in if the manager is uncooperative. Then I want you to flirt, smile, promise him sex…”

  “What?”

  “I’m kidding.” Nick chuckled. “I’ll present my badge and explain. I just want you to be quiet and look scared.”

  “Scared? I don’t have to act for that one. Having a stranger in my house without knowing scared the hell out of me.”

  “And just remember that feeling, so you can make the manager feel it.”

  We walked in through the automatic doors past the shopping carts. If they still call the senior citizen at the entrance a “Greeter” they need to change the name because no one greeted us. The old guy didn’t even acknowledge us.

  Nick made it a point to greet him though. “Hey, good afternoon.” He beamed, taking the old fart off guard. He said nothing back.

  “Greeters, my ass,” I said.

  Nick grinned.

  He must’ve had business here before because he knew exactly where the management offices were located. I had expected we would ask a floor manager to get the store manager for us, and we’d spend a lot of time waiting. Nick opened the door and walked into a reception area of a small set of cubicles.

  Nick pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and flipped it open at the woman. “I need to speak to the person who is in charge of the store.”

  The woman, a short, plump thing of about forty, stepped forward and examined Nick’s badge. She looked skeptical, but said, “What can I do for you?”

  “And you are?” Now Nick was skeptical.

  “Janine Lambert, regional manager.” She pushed her hand toward Nick. “What’s this about?”

  Nick pumped the woman’s hand. “Detective Nick Christianson, with the homicide unit of the Salinas PD.”

  The woman went pale. “Homicide?”

  “As much as I hate to say it, we are investigating a recent homicide.” Nick sounded so sweet and sympathetic.

  Janine visibly tried to compose herself. “And how is MallMart a part of this mur-homicide?”

  “It’s not directly related, but a throw-away phone that may be linked to the investigation was purchased from your store on Monday afternoon of last week.”

  “Okay?” She sounded defensive now. She probably knew what was coming next.

  I stood quietly behind Nick, knowing I would be no help. Flirting wasn’t going to help our situation at this point.

  “We’ve tracked the activation to this store. And we need to know what kind of records you keep when a person purchases a phone.”

  “We ask to see a driver’s license and we enter the number into our registers, but that would be very difficult to track unless you have the receipt for the transaction.” She paused. “But if you have an exact time, I can see what I can do for you.”

  “Four fifteen.”

  I thought this was going well. Janine was helpful, not stubborn.

  “In the morning or afternoon? We are a twenty-four hour store.” She spoke as if speaking to a small child who didn’t quite understand.

  “Sorry, it was in the afternoon.”

  “We don’t sell as many disposable phones as we used to, so I can see if there is a cashier number with the activation. It may take several days to a week to get the information. Sorry I can’t get it any faster.”

  “What about surveillance video?”

  “What about it?” Janine frowned.

  “We know the day and time. So is there any way we can view the video from that time period?”

  Janine stood with her brows furrowed. She didn’t say anything, then she turned and went to the desk behind the counter. She punched the keys of the computer on the desk and waited. She looked up to see both Nick and I staring at her.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m looking to see where the video would be for that shift. Everything is digital now, so we transfer the data to another server so we can free up our hard drive for more recordings.”

  We all stood silent, waiting. Janine looked back at the computer again. “Got it.”

  “You’ve got the tapes?” I said. Then I shut up. I’d forgotten I was just for backup.

  “Oh, you talk?” Janine looked up from a pad of paper where she was scribbling and grinned.

  “Yup, but I’m usually better off when I keep my mouth shut.” Did those words just come out of my mouth?

  Even Nick turned to stare at me. I’d lost my mind, and Janine and Nick were there to witness it.

  “I don’t have the actual tapes. But I’ve put in a request for the time period of 2:15 pm to 6:15 pm. I think that should give us a wider range, just in case the activation time isn’t Pacific Standard.”

  Smart woman. She was a regional manager for a reason, I guess.

  Nick’s body language loosened up now that he knew she wasn’t going to ask for a warrant.

  “You do understand that to release the tapes, which will be on CD, you’ll have to get a warrant?”

  “Fuck” was written all over Nick’s face now.

  “Look, that’s going to take extra time we don’t have. Is there any way we can do this without a warrant?” Nick wasn’t pleading, he was flirting. He stepped forward and leaned against the counter.

  “I’m not sure this homicide is worth losing my job over, but I’ll tell you what, I won’t give you the CDs. What I’ll do is bring them to the police station when they come in, and I’ll watch them with you. That way I’m not releasing them to you unless there is something significant on them. But if there is, and you need to keep them, I’ll have to have a warrant to leave them with you.”

  Nick sighed. “Janine, I love you.”

  She blushed. “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t have the tapes.”

  I stepped in. “You really don’t know what this means to us. When do you think you’ll have them?”

  She looked at her watch. “It’s Sunday, so nothing will be done unt
il tomorrow morning. I’ll call the main office and get a rush, so if they messenger it, I guess tomorrow afternoon or Tuesday morning at the latest.”

  Nick walked around the counter and hugged Janine. “You are a gem.”

  I think she nearly fainted. She fanned herself for a second before she realized we could see her doing it. “I’ll stop by the police station as soon as I have anything for you.”

  “Here,” Nick said. He handed her a business card. “Call me to be sure we’ll be able to meet up.”

  She took the card and scrutinized it. “Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I have something, and we can set up an appointment.”

  “Thanks,” I said. This had gone too smoothly. Something had to give, but I didn’t know exactly what it would be.

  As we were walking out of MallMart, I said to Nick, “Guess you didn’t need me after all.”

  “I didn’t need you in the first place. I just wanted to have company.” He winked at me. “Hungry?”

  I was starving. Anything to keep from going back to sorting papers.

  * * *

  Nick and I had a hot date at Carls Jr. on the way back to my office. It’s the only place I know that serves deep fried zucchini, which I love. So I stuffed my face with a chicken club sandwich and topped it off with fried zucchini and a diet soda. Oh, yeah, the diet soda made it all okay.

  Nick ate twice as much as me and wolfed it down faster. I felt like a pig as Nick watched me finish my meal. But there would be no eating in his precious Boxter.

  “Tut, tut, feels like rain,” Nick said, looking out the window of the Carl’s Jr. dining room. “We’d better get a move on so I can get my car back in the garage before it starts pouring.”

  It was cloudy, but it was always cloudy in Salinas. I didn’t think it even looked like rain, much less felt like it. But Nick started stacking our food garbage on the tray. I rushed to shove the last two zucchini in my mouth before he threw them away.

  “So your car is allergic to rain?” I said around the food in my mouth.

  “Nice, why don’t you spit a little bit of food at me while you’re at it.” Nick handed me a napkin.

  I was tempted, but I refrained from blowing a raspberry at him, spraying him with zucchini, ranch dressing, and spit. So grown up, I know. I actually felt comfortable with Nick, when I wasn’t trying to impress him.