Rock Wolf Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  She had just turned her head to ask Duke that very question when she watched him grab the gear shift and spin the steering wheel to the right. She sucked in a breath to ask him what he was doing when he hit the gas and the enormous truck gave a mighty shudder and popped up and over the curb. There was a delighted shriek from another group of passing tourists as Gray Henry flew into the parking lot over the curb and sidewalk, and maybe one of those little cement parking stoppers, too. The wheels and springs bounced and just like that they were suddenly in the parking lot and Duke had the most enormous grin on his face. They pulled backwards into the parking space and Duke hit the brakes to execute a perfect stop.

  “Oh, and I guess these tires are capable of taking a couple of curbs too,” he said with obvious pride.

  Olivia wasn’t entirely sure why, but she couldn’t stop staring at the look of excitement and satisfaction on Duke’s tanned face. His blond hair was mussed from being tucked in his ball cap that was on the front dash when they’d gotten into the truck and there was a cowboy hat hanging upside down in an actual holder on the roof of the truck’s cab. With his hair in disarray and a bright shining spark in his green eyes, the guy was a lady killer. He was wearing another pair of worn jeans and his boots. He looked down-to-earth and—well the word was safe. Duke Dunbar made a woman feel safe, like nothing could touch you when you were with him. It was as if he would have moved heaven and earth to make sure it stayed that way too. It was sort of like being in one of those old westerns where the good guys always had the fastest draw and the best horse and they put the bad guy in jail. Nobody ever really had to die and every gunshot wound experienced by the hero was nothing but a tiny flesh wound that never needed anything more than a white bandage tied around it.

  “Okay, do we have a strategy for this accidental meeting?” Duke asked her as he shut off his engine and put his keys in his pocket.

  Olivia felt as though she’d come back from a daydream. She gave herself a mental shake. They were supposed to be interrogating Harvey Lightman without actually doing any interrogating. Olivia bit her lip and looked around the parking lot. She was just about to start feeling desperate when she finally spotted Harvey’s Corvette tucked into a parking spot near the side of the restaurant that sat nearest the Ozark Star Theater. He’d managed to get his car beneath the theater’s overhang, presumably to compensate for the fact he’d left the top down when he’d gone inside the restaurant.

  “That’s Harvey’s car,” Olivia said, pointing to it.

  Duke followed her index finger until he spotted the electric blue sports car. “How typical. No wonder the guy is being a total douche to you.”

  “You just gave me the entire list of specs from your truck and you’re going to criticize Harvey for driving a sports car?” Olivia shot Duke a droll stare.

  Duke gave her the same stare right back. “You’ll find that guys like me who spend a lot of wrench time and money on classic trucks usually don’t have a lot of respect for men like Harvey who buy a brand new sports car off a lot somewhere and probably don’t even know what’s under the hood. Now, if he drove a sixties or seventies era ‘Vette, I might feel differently.”

  Olivia began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Duke was such a strange combination of open-minded and judgmental. He was so low key in his own way that he grew completely annoyed with anyone who wasn’t. It was actually kind of endearing. This was the kind of man you could depend on. Just another thing that made him like those cowboys from the western shows she’d watched as a kid.

  “So, we just go in and get a seat. Is that it?”

  “If we’re lucky…” Olivia suddenly spotted the front doors of the restaurant swinging wide open. Harvey Lightman sauntered out with a swagger that would have been too much for a man three times his size to back up. “Look! There he is.”

  “Let’s go then.” Duke was out of the truck and striding toward the blue Corvette before Olivia could even manage to get her door open, much less jump down.

  She had to hurry to catch up, but she couldn’t be angry with Duke for being in a hurry. Harvey seemed to be in a hurry, too. The guy was already sitting down in the low slung convertible when Duke caught the door before it could swing shut.

  “Excuse me, young man. Step aside, I’m in a hurry.” Harvey’s tone and manner were condescending as hell.

  Duke’s lip curled in disdain. “Yeah, well you’re going to spare me a few minutes. Sorry.”

  “I’m not interested in you taking a photo with my car.”

  “I’m not interested in your car,” Duke said flatly. He made a vague gesture in Henry’s direction. “I much prefer trucks and I don’t buy my toys. I build them.”

  Olivia nearly snorted with laughter as she finally caught up. Harvey was actually looking over at Duke’s truck with more than a polite passing interest. “Would you care to sell? I could probably give you a decent price.”

  Duke’s expression was totally unreadable. The only part of it that was obvious was the distaste. “No, you couldn’t. And if you’d ever built anything like that with your own hands, you would already know that.”

  “Then what do you want?” Harvey pushed a button on the dash and the engine purred to life.

  Olivia paused right beside Duke. “We’d like to discuss what happened last night, Mr. Lightman. You know, that incident where you broke into my office and tried to steal important financial information that you have no right to see.”

  “Oh, I see.” The sneer on Harvey’s face became even more pronounced. “You’ve brought your guard dog along to properly threaten me. Except that’s not going to work, Olivia. I’ve already taken action against you for assault.”

  “Excuse me?” Olivia retorted. “I didn’t assault you. I didn’t touch you.”

  “You threw a plant at me.”

  “You backed into my credenza and my poor plant fell off the hutch and into your lap!” Olivia was shocked. Did this idiot really think he could get away with such a blatant lie? “Are you trying to tell me that you think I assaulted you? Because I can assure you if I assaulted you, you would know it. And you would have the bruises to prove it.”

  Harvey looked right and left as though he were searching for an audience. “Is that a threat?”

  “No. Don’t be ridiculous. Why on earth would I touch you?” Olivia could not understand what was happening here.

  “Olivia,” Duke said quietly, “leave for a second.”

  She pursed her lips and chafed at the order but did as she was asked and moved a several feet from Duke’s side, just far enough to hear the conversation.

  Duke gazed down at Harvey Lightman. “Mr. Lightman, I suggest you not get the police involved. If you think that’s going to help your case, you’re very wrong. You have several motives for either subsidizing or even organizing the recent negative events at the theater. And being rude and violent towards Ms. Houghton isn’t going to help you look like less of a suspect.”

  “Suspect, ha!” Harvey scoffed and gave an airy wave of his hand. “I have nothing to do with these thefts and I was perfectly within my rights to be in that office looking at whatever I please. It’s my property.”

  “Which is why I’ve moved all pertinent financial information off your property,” Olivia could not resist yelling the information over to him.

  For just a second, Olivia knew she had scored a hit and wasn’t entirely sure why. What did it matter where the financial statements were kept? It wasn’t like there was some kind of incriminating information contained in the bank statements. They didn’t have loans. It was all just payroll and expense statements along with income records. It wasn’t useful to anyone but a trained banker.

  “Well, you had better watch yourself. That’s all I have to say about it,” Harvey told her irritably. “Because I’m about to get the police involved. I’m tired of all the harassment.”

  “Harassment? I’ve been asking you to fix a few things around the theater. I followed the protocol and sent you
dozens of emails. Remember? I have records of those emails and the texts that I sent you as well. So, I resorted to sending emails to your management company in hopes the actual property manager would get involved,” Olivia retorted. “You want to haul me into jail for that? To call that harassment? That’s fine. You try it. They’re not going to believe a word you say.”

  Olivia could feel Duke’s gaze on her and knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking—getting the police involved would never be a good idea on her part. The cops in this town would be a little too eager to arrest her first and sort out the details later, just for spite.

  “Well, I’m not the one responsible for those thefts, so you can just stop throwing that accusation around. Do you understand?” Harvey put the car in gear and roared off in a squeal of tires and exhaust.

  “I don’t think that was very productive,” Olivia said glumly.

  But Duke actually looked cheerful. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Let’s go inside. Shall we?”

  “You need to eat again?” She gaped at him and knew she was being rude.

  He only laughed. “Yes, we normal humans eat several times a day. You should try it.”

  His words stung, but then he couldn’t have known that she had food issues. Olivia followed him into the restaurant and felt as though she was about to step off a cliff.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Ozark Star Restaurant was like just about every other restaurant in the Branson area that came with its own theater affiliation. That pretty much meant the interior of the restaurant was decorated in a theme that harmonized with the theater. Memorabilia from past shows hung on the walls and the booths looked like something out of a fifty’s diner with the abundance of red vinyl and chrome. Not to mention the menu was pretty typical Ozark home cooking. The chalkboard list of specials informed Duke the chef’s special of the day was the fried chicken plate with mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “Let’s take a seat,” Duke told Olivia. She was looking worse than uncomfortable. Duke wasn’t sure why, but it felt like she was actually about to freak out. “I see an open booth right there. It’s out of the way. We can have a chat about what just happened.”

  “Right.” At least the reminder of their parking lot discussion with Harvey Lightman seemed to make a dent.

  Olivia meekly followed Duke to the booth and slipped into the seat. Duke took the other side and then sat and waited. It took about forty seconds for a smiling waitress to show up at their table. Most of the waiters and waitresses in Branson were show business hopefuls. There generally tended to be a lot of random bursting into song and almost always had CDs or DVDs or digital downloads available for purchase at the front register featuring one or more of the employees. It was just a side effect of being in a town like Branson where everyone thought they could wind up the biggest star on stage.

  “Good morning, folks!” the waitress said brightly. She had the look of a recycled country star with enormous platinum blonde hair and enough makeup to supply a clown camp. “My name is Tisha and I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you folks started with some drinks? How ‘bout a coffee? We have a wonderful coffee bar with a full complement of mochas and we can do a pretty mean espresso, if you’d like.”

  “Coffee, black for me,” Duke said quickly. “And I’ll have the fried chicken plate and also a glass of water.”

  “All righty then.” The waitress gave him an exaggerated wink. “I just love a man who knows his own mind.” Then she turned to Olivia. “And what can I get for you, sweetheart?”

  Olivia’s eyes were glassy and she looked pale. “I’ll just have a glass of water and a side salad.”

  “What kind of dressing would you like with that, hon? We have—”

  “No dressing,” Olivia said quickly. “And no cheese. Just greens.”

  “Our side salad comes with romaine lettuce, some cheese, chopped onions, tomato, cucumber, and croutons. Did you want to leave both the cheese and croutons off, hon?” The waitress did not bat an eye as if this were totally normal behavior.

  “Yes, please,” Olivia said quietly, and then after a moment added, “And no onion please.”

  “Of course.” The waitress scribbled on her little pad and then beamed at them. “I will have that right up! And of course, your coffee will be right out, sugar.”

  “Thanks.” But Duke had no attention to spare for the waitress. He was too busy trying to figure out why anyone would want to eat a dry salad of tomato, cucumber, and lettuce. “So, you don’t like food? You said you like the burritos at Rigoberto’s.”

  “Right. I do.” She bit her lip. “I get them, but it usually takes me a whole week to eat one. I just have a bite every morning.”

  Duke was pretty sure he was staring at her with no small amount of confusion on his face. A single bite of a burrito every morning did not constitute a meal. Duke’s brain kept trying to reconcile that idea, like he could possibly live in a world where burritos were eaten across a span of days instead of minutes. No. It just wouldn’t work for him.

  “Wow. That’s… uh… that’s really different,” Duke said lamely. He felt like an idiot. Of course, if he had really thought about it, he might have looked at her body type and considered the fact that she had been and probably still was a dancer to suggest she might have some issues with food. But that wasn’t the first thought in his mind. He was a private investigator, not a therapist. “So, are you just doing the low carb, low calorie thing then?”

  “Oh.” She glanced left and right and then leaned forward over the table. “No. I have a straight up eating disorder.”

  “I see.” Now that they’d gotten that out of the way, Duke figured it was time to just ignore that since he didn’t know what to do with it. She could obviously manage on her own and if she needed help, she was capable of asking for it. He didn’t know her well enough to presume or judge anything. “So, let’s talk about Harvey.”

  “Harvey?” She blinked and sat up straight. “Okay. What about Harvey?”

  “He’s obviously defensive about what he was doing,” Duke mused. He thought about the entire discussion as a whole. “And he’s not our guy for the thefts.”

  “What?” Olivia gaped at him. “How is he not our guy? He has the perfect motive!”

  “There is no perfect motive,” Duke chided. He pursed his lips and thought about the case. “Besides, you never know what sort of motive the actual perpetrator has. Maybe there is way better than Harvey’s and you just don’t know that yet.”

  She chuckled. He could see her begin to relax. That was good. “I guess you’re right. But what makes you so sure?”

  “Because he wouldn’t be bothering with all of this other stuff if he were the one behind the thefts. That would be his plan,” Duke speculated. He thought that through a different way. “He would be focused on that part of the plan. The thefts. How bad they are. How they’re going to ruin things. But he’s not even admitting that there is a problem. And that doesn’t make sense. Plus, he’s not going to want to be in contact with the police at all. He wouldn’t be drawing any attention to himself at all. It would be like he was just going to sit back and let the natural consequences of the thefts do that whole thing for him.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back against the red vinyl cushion and looked thoughtful.

  In the meantime, their waitress, Tisha, brought the food. She put their water glasses down and added his coffee mug. Then she set the enormous plate of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with a heaping helping of fried chicken on the table in front of Duke. Olivia just got a sad little bowl of greens. It was all very low key and Duke was glad about that. But he still could not help but look at Olivia’s plate and wonder just how someone—even a string bean like her—could live on that amount of food. He would have been dying of starvation.

  “Can I get you folks anything else?”

  “Not at the moment, thanks!” Olivia smiled and picked up her fork.

  Duke waved the waitress on as he drank
about half the coffee in one slug. It wasn’t bad. Not nearly as good as his special hazelnut brew, but then he ordered those beans online and had them delivered so what could he expect? He had spoiled himself for other coffee, probably for good.

  “Do you want a bite of my chicken?” Duke asked, trying to be casual about it.

  She shook her head and put a very tiny bite of lettuce into her mouth. “No, thank you thought. I appreciate the thought. I’m fine, really.”

  Duke grunted because what other kind of sound or comment did you make to that statement when you honestly felt like she couldn’t possibly be fine. He savored the taste of the gravy. Food was one thing Branson usually did right. There were so many down home recipes around for southern-style comfort food that it was almost impossible to find bad food. Of course, it could be that the homestyle cooking was just too easy to screw up, but Duke liked to believe there was more to it than that.

  “I had a really high metabolism when I was young,” Olivia said suddenly. She glanced up at him, peeking through her lashes as though she didn’t want him to see her looking, but she needed to know if he was or not. “I could eat anything. And I did too. I was like a ravenous beast. I swear I ate from sun up until sundown and still got hungry in the middle of the night.”

  “Growing does that to you,” Duke agreed. “I was the same way.”

  “Yes, but I looked like a twig.” She made a funny little moue with her lips. “Kind of like I do now, right? But I could eat whatever I wanted. And then I started dancing in Kindergarten and I was taller and slimmer than all of the other girls and my dance instructor was just thrilled.”

  “Did you stay at the same studio for a very long time?” Duke wondered out loud.

  He was trying to picture a grown adult talking to a five-year-old about the way her body looked. Good God! Talk about starting a little early on the body image worries. The poor kid was probably lucky she could stomach food at all.