Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set

by Jamie Lee Scott

“I can’t believe you hired a blue hair. What are you going to do when she has a heart attack and dies in the middle of the day?” Jackie snapped.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Uta was in fine health, and spent her lunch hour walking, then came back and ate a healthy lunch at her desk, so she could complete her work and be finished in time to leave by six. Six, when most people wanted to be done by five. Uta had been given flexibility in her hours over the last few weeks, because she came in whenever she was needed. As long as she was here to schedule appointments from eight AM to noon, I didn’t care what else she did with her time. But apparently, Jackie cared, because she flipped out at four o'clock one day last week because Uta wasn't available to make photocopies for her.

  “She’s old, and she’s behind the times.” Jackie stood firm.

  Uta wasn’t the point, so I moved on. “There is something else going on. Stop blaming this on other things. Get to it: why are you being such a bitch?”

  Jackie took a step back. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “Don’t even go there.” I didn’t know if I was up to this. I was ready to walk away, but instead, I broached the subject I’d been dying to bring up. “Are you second guessing your marriage?”

  Jackie’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, then it snapped shut. She blew air out her nose, then said, “Oh. My. God. You’re jealous. You are so blinded by that asshole, Nick, that you’re jealous I found a great guy and married him.”

  Now I was really lost. What did I have to be jealous of? Jackie was happy, I was happy, and Charles wasn’t mourning anymore. Everyone seemed happy. “What on earth would I possibly be jealous of? I’ve only ever wanted to see you happy.”

  “You think that loser is going to ask you to marry him. And I got married first, just like last time. You hated that I got married the first time. You were so jealous, you couldn’t even be my friend anymore. And here you are again, but this time it’s never going to happen. Because Nick’s just milking the cow; he’ll never buy it when the milk is free. Is that why you offered Charles the ownership of Gotcha, and not me, because you can’t stand that my life is so much better than yours, and you’d have to be equal partners with me? Is that it?”

  And now we got to the nitty gritty of the bitchiness. She was pissed because I partnered with Charles and not her. There was no way I’d ever go into business with my best friend. Charles and I were friends, and in a way best friends, but we were business friends first. When push came to shove, the business would always come first with us, and I knew that. And it was Charles who came to me. But how did I tell her that I’d never in a million years be business partners with her, and her attitude right now, and over the last few weeks were exactly why?

  “Jackie, this is crazy. Why didn’t you just say this in the first place? Why pull out that nasty little knife of yours and stab me with it? And not only stab me, but jab it in hard, and then twist?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m going to address your wedding and marriage first,” I said, pointing my finger within inches of her frowning face. “I could give a shit that you got married by eloping, and didn’t tell me. I’m happy as can be, but only if you’re happy. And as for you getting married before me? This time, last time, any time. Who gives a flying fuck!?”

  “Oh, please…” she started to say, but I put my hand up.

  “No, I’m not finished.” I stepped forward, my face now a fraction of an inch from hers. “You know nothing about Nick and me, and marriage isn’t even in the picture for us, so I don’t care that you’re married. And as for Charles? I’d pick him in a heartbeat over you for a business partner. Why? Because he’s a professional, and he’d never pull this crap. If I’d chosen you over him, I can one hundred percent guarantee you that he and I would not be having this conversation.” I stepped back.

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, it’s not.” I stabbed at the air, pointing toward the door to the kitchen. “Get out, before I fire you.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she spat.

  Then Lola stood from her bed, hair raised on her back, and growled.

  I looked at Lola, then back at Jackie. “It’s best you leave now.”

  “I’m done here. I don’t need this job anyway.” Jackie turned on her heel and walked out. She turned back and said, “Just thought you should know, after talking with Cortnie about this case, I can tell you, Skinner may love his wife, but I promise you, he loves Rayna more.”

  Her words shocked me into silence.

  I knew Uta would be in the kitchen with Jackie’s handbag and when Jackie pushed open the door, I saw her standing there. She handed Jackie her purse, took her set of work keys, and walked her to the back door. Before I could walk over to calm Lola, Uta was in my office.

  “Jackie didn’t have any pending cases. She hasn't touched a file since she’s been back, and hasn’t called on any of the cases I’ve given her. I’m not sure what she’s been doing in her office, but it hasn’t been working.” Uta handed me Jackie’s key ring and left the office.

  “How do you feel about this?” I asked Charles, who I could feel standing behind me.

  “Bitch be crazy. How do you feel?” Charles said.

  “I don’t know yet.” I plopped down on my desk chair. “She’s been so different since she got back. And to push off her work like that, it’s not like her. She hasn’t invited me to the house to have dinner with the family, either. I knew something was up. She’ll get over it. I’ll just wait her out. When she’s ready to talk, she’ll call.”

  “And if she wants her job back?” he asked.

  “If she’s my old Jackie, it’s there for her,” I said decisively.

  There was no arguing with my tone. He let it go.

  “Cortnie,” I yelled, knowing she was on the other side of the door, listening.

  She waited a few seconds, pretending she wasn’t actually standing there, and opened the door to reenter the room.

  “Now, back to the business at hand.” I pointed to the chair for Cortnie to sit. “How do you want to handle this Skinner thing?”

  “I can look into Bucky’s history. I know a lot of the people he knows. I can check a little closer into Emmet’s history. I mean, did you see that girl in the passenger seat? She could have been Bucky’s daughter, or granddaughter.”

  “I can check down at City Hall, or have a chat with Nick and see what kind of friends Bucky had downtown.” I was chomping at the bit to get started on something, anything to get my mind off Jackie.

  “That would be more my area of expertise,” Charles said. “I can hack into the city’s system, see what Bucky was up to from his work computer, and find his IP address from his home computer. I’ll see what he searched online, and what his finances looked like.”

  “Okay, I guess I can go back and talk to Rayna, Pam, and even have a talk with Skinner, and maybe his wife,” I offered.

  “And we are doing all of this with Nick’s approval?” Cortnie asked, looking from Charles to me and back.

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon, Nick and Gabe had processed the murder scene with Salinas PD CSU, and Nick had called, wanting to meet for lunch. Normally, I’d be thrilled about this, but I didn’t know if he’d tell me to back away from the case, or admonish me for getting involved in yet another case with the agency that ended up in a murder investigation. I’d agreed to meet him at a new place that had opened on South Main Street only because I was starving, and I knew he’d pay. Okay, I’d probably offer to pay, but I was starving, and he was my favorite lunch date.

  Nick had gone home and changed out of his dapper suit. He now wore navy slacks with a tan shirt and a baby blue tie. He never used to dress this nice. I’m sure Charles’ style was rubbing off on him. They had been spending more time together, especially since Charles was looking for a new car.

  Since we met at the restaurant, I had been waiting in my car.
Nick approached and opened the door for me. “Hey, babe, what a day.”

  I leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek before getting out of the car. “You’re telling me. New case, dead guy, Jackie quit…”

  “What the heck are you talking about? Jackie quit?” He helped me out.

  “You know how I told you she’s been acting so weird since she got back? Well, she and Charles had it out today. After she smarted back to him, she quit.” I shut the car door and we headed to the restaurant. “Then she told me she was pissed because I’d sold half of the business to Charles and not her.”

  “So that’s what she’s been so pissy about since she’s been back?”

  “I guess.” I’d been venting to Nick a lot lately, and was starting to feel guilty about it. Not that it stopped me. He was my sounding board, now that Jackie was off with her new man, and Charles was in his own head too much.

  I wondered how much longer Nick was going to put up with all of my girly crap, but he never complained, and rarely offered advice. Mostly, he listened. I sometimes wondered if he was working out some of his cases in his head, and all he heard was, “Blah, blah, blah.” But I was okay with it, as long as I didn’t actually know for a fact he wasn’t really listening.

  “She’ll come around. Give her time.” He laced his fingers in mine, and we walked down the sidewalk together.

  I hoped it didn’t take a decade or more, and maybe I could try to find a way to patch things up. But I wasn't in the mood today, not after what she said about Nick. I didn’t have the heart to tell him what she said about him. And I didn’t want him to hate her if we eventually made up.

  I know I sound like a lovesick teen, but I loved when Nick held my hand. “I’m not sure what’s going on with her anymore. She doesn’t talk to me, and she’s persnickety.”

  “Persnickety?”

  “You know what I mean.” I grinned.

  Nick let go of my hand and opened the door to the restaurant.

  You know that address in every town that can’t seem to keep a business open for very long? That was the address of the restaurant where I was meeting Nick. In Salinas, that address was on the corner of Main and Market. In the last three years, there had been two restaurants and a gift store in this location, and this fourth business was back to a restaurant again, only this one also had a tiny gift shop. I guess the owner figured she’s making money either way.

  From the Main Street entrance, it was Crooked Bow Thai Restaurant, and from the Market Street entrance, it was Polka Dot Bow Tie Gifts. Whatever floats your boat.

  It’s a tiny, funky place with a few tables upstairs, and a good number downstairs. The booths are mismatched, antique love seats facing each other with a table between them. And all of the tables are different. It’s like the interior designer went to a flea market in Soho or San Francisco, or some wonderful art district, picked out the exact love seats and tables that wouldn’t go together, and yet matched perfectly. The place had the vibe of nostalgia mixed with modern slick art on the walls, and sculptures hanging from the ceiling. Even the lighting was mismatched and works of art. I’d called the place a hipster joint.

  Nick looked around, taking in the colors and shapes as the hostess stepped up to greet us.

  Dressed in a vintage dress, with hair and makeup to compliment her style, she asked, “Upstairs, or downstairs?”

  “Does it make any difference?” I asked.

  “Only the view. And the view from upstairs is pretty freaking cool.” She winked, and I had to admire the perfection of her eyeliner.

  I said, “Upstairs,” at the same time that Nick said, “Downstairs,” so I changed my mind and said, “Downstairs is fine.”

  “It’s just as well, that way you won’t have to wait for a table.” She bounced as she walked us to one of the mismatched booths.

  The menu, a single sheet of paper with print on both sides, was the kind that changed daily, depending on what was available in the kitchen. I loved these type of restaurants, because you knew there was a chef behind those doors, not some teenager warming food in a microwave.

  I looked at the choices for the day, and Nick and I decided to share a platter of fish tacos. They were Asian-fusion, salmon tacos with an apricot and cilantro sauce over shredded cabbage tossed with fried shrimp. The tacos were served on a heaping platter, inside sweet potato and corn tortillas.

  Nick and I chatted while we stuffed our faces full of sweet fish taco goodness.

  “Any lead on Bucky’s murder?”

  “That man had more enemies than he had voters. And the scary part was he probably was going to win another term.” Nick grabbed his napkin and wiped apricot sauce from his chin.

  “Charles and I were talking about it, and we figure that our client is probably a suspect.” I stopped chewing and waited for his response.

  “Who is your client again?” He either didn’t listen when I was telling him what happened that morning, or his head was clouded from everything. Poor guy had caught a murder case on his day off.

  “Skinner Mathis, Bucky Cox’s old rodeo partner, and business partner, too, I guess.” I didn’t know how much Nick already knew.

  “Oh, yeah, him. He was at the house within minutes of your leaving. There to console the grieving widow.” Nick chuckled a little.

  “What’s so funny?” I didn’t get it. Nothing about this was remotely funny.

  “Nothing really, it’s just that the wife is a suspect, and she calls her old boyfriend, who is her husband’s ex-best friend. Not to mention the man has a restraining order against him, and isn’t supposed to be on the property to begin with.” He stuffed another bite in his mouth.

  “Skinner was back at the house?”

  “What do you mean, back at the house?” He stopped mid chew to ask the question.

  Oh, oh. Open mouth, insert foot. “Um, well, uh…”

  “Spit it out, Mimi.” I could see his face turning red.

  “He said he’d gone to look at that horse they were selling. He said he was going to buy it.”

  “Oh, jeez, they’re still screwing around, aren’t they?” Nick slapped his napkin on the table. The sound was loud enough that several patrons looked our way.

  I smiled and reached across to put my hand on his, as if to say, “Please not here.” But I said, “I have no idea, but if they are, then that gives both of them a good motive, now doesn’t it?”

  “I’m up to my eyeballs on this one. Even Gabe can’t believe how many enemies this chap has. I mean we both can’t stand him ourselves, having worked with him via City Hall and the police department, but neither of us obviously wanted him dead.”

  I stuffed more taco in my mouth, so I couldn’t talk. I just chewed and nodded my head.

  “We were able to get into the house for a little bit this morning, go through some paperwork in Bucky’s office, and look through his stuff. But Rayna wouldn’t let us take anything without a warrant. Took a lot of photos. I wonder if there’s any way Charles can get into Bucky’s computer from the outside.” He wasn’t looking at me when he said this. He was looking at the food on his plate and pushing it around, so I didn’t know if he wanted an answer, or he was thinking out loud.

  “Call him,” I offered.

  “I think I’ll stop by and visit him. Is he at the office?”

  “He was when I left, but you’ll have to call and see if he’s still there.”

  “Aren’t you going back to work after lunch?” Nick asked, wadding up his napkin and placing it on his plate. “I’ll just follow you back to the office.”

  Eyes widening, and a big grin, I said, “Nope, I have to interview someone, and then I’m going to take Lola for a run.”

  “Isn’t Lola at the office?”

  He had me there.

  “She is now, but I’m not taking her with me to the interview. I’m going back later.”

  I should just tell him that I was going to talk to Skinner’s wife. No, I shouldn’t. Yes, I should. Well, i
f anything came of the conversation with Skinner’s wife, then I’d tell him. Until then, it really didn’t matter if I was chatting with her. For now, it was just to get a better handle on the stories Skinner had told me this morning.

  “Fine, young lady, I know when you’re not telling me something. To be honest, I don’t want to know. And if it has anything to do with Bucky’s murder, I really don’t want to know. Gabe and I have decided that we aren’t going to get in fights with you and Cortnie over this.”

  I sighed. “Good.”

  “Damn it, Mimi, is it about Bucky’s murder?” he whispered, leaning across the table to get in my face.

  I was completely honest. “Not yet, it isn’t.”

  He blew out a breath as he sat up. “Let’s go. I have a long day ahead of me. Gabe is going to take over this evening so I can have the night off, since we have plans. That way we can still spend the evening together.” He pointed his finger. “But I’m warning you, we aren’t going to be working this case together. You aren’t a homicide cop, you’re a P.I.”

  “Yep, that’s what I am.” I wanted to change the subject. “So, what’s happening with the horse auction?”

  “Apparently the show goes on. There will still be an auction tomorrow night at five PM, unless the judge changes his mind before then. At the moment, he’s not inclined to do that. I’m still waiting for details on the court documents. I was looking for papers relating to the LLC in Bucky’s office, but I didn’t see any. Rayna said there’s a safe deposit box, so we’re working on getting into that, too.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose, but what do I know? I would think, for the sake of the investigation, and the parties involved, the judge would rule to postpone the auction.” It only seemed right.

  “The day isn’t over yet.” Nick picked up the food bill and turned it over to read it. His brows raised nearly into his hairline, but he didn’t say anything.

  “What?” I was curious, because he never complained about prices.

  He showed me the bill. The server had left her phone number and a note that said, “Call me.”

  There was a time I would have gone into a jealous rage over something so simple. I did feel a little green monster crawling its way up my throat, about to voice something outrageously immature, but instead, I laughed. “Take a picture. You never know when you’ll be single again and need it.”