Never Cry Uncle

by Mia Dymond

  A short, round, bald man who wore pop-bottle glasses and a stained apron greeted Allison with a tight hug.

  “Allison, mia amore!” He planted a small kiss on each of her cheeks. “You bring sunshine to an old man’s heart!”

  “Ciao, Roberto! How’s Carmela?”

  “She’s doing well. She is home with the new grandbaby.”

  Luke shifted his weight and waited out the small talk.

  “What’s fresh today?”

  “It is all fresh. The truck delivered everything this morning.”

  Allison reached for several varieties of vegetables, shopping as if she knew the exact location of every item. Idle chitchat filled the time. No unusual conversation. Until Roberto spoke again.

  “How are you holding up after your recent loss?”

  Well, hell. Luke’s nerves tightened as he awaited her response.

  “No worries, Roberto,” she said with a bright smile. “The authorities have everything under control.”

  Roberto squinted narrowly behind his thick glasses. “Just say the word, mia figlia, and I will make a call.”

  Luke glanced at the doorway, assuring himself the exit was still clear.

  Allison grasped Roberto’s shoulder and steered him to the front counter. “I’m honored to accept the title of daughter, but really, I’m fine.”

  “I promised your nonno,” Roberto said as he bagged her purchases.

  “I know, Uncle. Grandfather would be proud and I love you for your loyalty.”

  Luke slipped out the door, propped himself against the building, and mentally climbed the branches of Allison’s family tree while he waited for her to exit. Both her parents and Scarletti were now deceased; however, she had more uncles than he could count, who were very much alive and determined to watch her back. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This would not be easy.

  He raised his head as he heard the bell tinkle over the door. Expecting to see Allison, he began to sweat beneath his winter jacket when Roberto stuck his head out of the doorway, removed his glasses, glanced his direction, and gave an exaggerated wink. Luke’s forehead ached with confusion. What the hell? His eyes darted around the area, now void of female influence. He exhaled in frustration. She’d ditched him. Long gone.

  Cursing himself for lost concentration, he pushed himself away from the building and ambled to a restaurant at the end of the block. Once seated inside at a secluded corner table with a bottle of wine, he threw back a glass of liquid encouragement and attempted to formulate a new strategy. That, and how to keep Ramsey from finding out he’d lost Allison.

  “Looking for me, Zorro?” a soft voice whispered across his ear.

  He coughed and wine threatened to spew from his nose as he spun in his seat to see Allison crouched behind him.

  She gave a wry smile and sat opposite him. “Your technique sucks.”

  He glared at her as he sopped wine from his shirt.

  “Do you know where you are?” she asked.

  Luke glanced at the menu on the table. Pauly’s. Goose bumps grazed his arms as he shifted his eyes to take in the clientele. Olive-skinned, dark-haired men dressed in sharply pressed, starched, business shirts. Designer, no doubt. Gold watches. Oh. Damn.

  “Family business?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Uncle Pauly needed a few vegetables.”

  Uncle Pauly. Double damn.

  “Why exactly were you following me?”

  Luke’s gaze scanned the room. He’d have to tread lightly. Common sense told him this was not the place for a confrontation.

  He cleared his throat to remove any pesky squeaks. “Why do you think that?”

  “You really want to play this game?”

  He allowed himself a genuine smile but didn’t answer. She had him by the balls. He just refused to admit it.

  “Is that the best you can do?” She twirled the silverware between her fingers. “I know who you are and what you do.”

  One of the large men seated at the next table stood, unbuttoned his suit jacket and cocked an eyebrow at her. She shook her head. He pinned Luke with a silent warning, nodded slightly, then sat back down.

  Before Luke could speak, Allison tapped the wine bottle with one fingernail. “Take another swig. You might need it after you hear what I have to say.”

  Luke picked up the bottle and poured another glass. Not because he wanted it, he needed it; the glare from the hired gorilla’s pinky ring was encouragement enough.

  “I want to hire you.”

  “You need a private investigator?”

  She raised a hand and signaled a waiter, who arrived shortly with a steaming platter of spaghetti. “Not here. I’ll meet you at your office in an hour.” She stood and bumped her chair to the table with one hip. “I took the liberty of ordering for you. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Luke waited until Allison disappeared into the kitchen before he allowed himself to exhale. Damn, he needed a game plan and he needed it now. The odds of Allison involved in Smallwood’s murder were slim to none, and even if she were, Ramsey would never be able to pin her. Not with her connections.

  He stabbed noodles with his fork and rolled them until they formed a ball. Hire him? This was a totally unexpected move. Obviously she felt the need for protection. Why him? There were plenty of goons on her payroll.

  And what the hell would he tell Ramsey? Frustrated, he laid his fork on his plate and pushed it to the side. Experience told him Allison and/or Lucy did not kill Smallwood, but he needed proof. Hard proof of their innocence or proof of murder, either would suffice. That’s why he’d take her case.

  Luke allowed himself a begrudging grin as he stood and tossed a few bills to the table. He had to admit that even though she made him nervous as hell, Allison was not guilty of murder.

  Walking the short distance from Pauly’s to his vehicle parked near Smallwood’s clinic, he thought about calling Ramsey. He owed it to Ramsey to fill him in, but somehow he wasn’t in a hurry to admit defeat. And, technically he wasn’t hired by anyone yet.

  He looked left, then right, then left again before he unlocked the car and got inside. Once the doors locked, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Nothing like a good, old-fashioned sit down to put a damper on his enthusiasm.

  ***

  Braced against the wall just inside Uncle Pauly’s kitchen, Allison took one last peek into the dining room to make absolutely sure she’d scared Luke away. Her lips split into a satisfied grin. Super sleuth was no match for her -- even if he was drop dead gorgeous. A small giggle escaped. He probably would not appreciate that description. The drop dead part anyway.

  She eased back into the kitchen and opened a file folder Uncle Pauly placed on the counter earlier. Luke Owens, Private Investigator. She fingered the eight by ten glossy photo of Mr. Delectable, lost in the deep sensual pull of his hypnotic eyes. Quite an impressive dossier. Allison sighed. She wouldn’t expect less of her uncles.

  Uncle Pauly assured the private investigator was legitimate, not affiliated in any way with the Maplewood Police Department. Now, anyway.

  She closed the folder and leaned one hip against the counter. Once upon a time, Luke knew Detective Ramsey well. According to her sources, the two men fought crime in Maplewood with a golden sword. Unfortunately for Detective Ramsey, though, his partner had a penchant for rule breaking and left the department to strike out on his own. She chuckled. Too bad he decided to go solo; Uncle Carlos would’ve hired him on the spot.

  Allison glanced at her watch, picked up her cell phone from the cabinet, and dialed.

  “Hey, Luce,” she said into the phone.

  “Where are you? Scar and I are starved.”

  “I got distracted.”

  Lucy groaned. “Oh no.”

  “What? I’m still bringing dinner.”

  “But?” Lucy prompted.

  “But later. We have an appointment with Zorro first.” Allison summarized the earlier events. “So, I’ll meet you and Sc
ar at his office in twenty minutes.”

  “Did you tell Uncle Pauly you intended to hire Zorro?”

  “No. I only asked for information on him. He’s really good, Lucy.”

  “Oh yeah? How good? Uncle Sergio good?”

  “Pretty close. Except for one thing.”

  “What?”

  “He was once Detective Ramsey’s partner.”

  “I don’t know about this, Allison.”

  “I have it all figured out. If I pay him, he can’t help Ramsey.”

  “He agreed?”

  “No. I told him we’d discuss it somewhere else. Time’s ticking, Lucy, get Scar and meet me there.”

  ***

  Scar sat in the dark hallway and savored the last few bites of his third cookie while he listened to Lucy’s end of the conversation. Obviously, Allison had taken the bait like a hungry fish. The good detective had fallen hard. And now Allison would seek help. Just as he and the uncles had intended.

  He raised one paw to brush the crumbs from his mouth. Allison wouldn’t be able to resist Owens, and if Don Carlos’ prediction was accurate, Owens could hold his own in battle.

  Satisfied with the night’s events, Scar stood and accepted the leash Lucy snapped to his collar. Things were progressing as planned. Now all he had to do was wait for nature to take its course.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Luke sat behind his desk and reflected on how incredibly ironic it was that he had become the one thing he worked so hard to avoid: a workaholic. Yet, although he worked almost twenty-four hours a day, he worked the way he wanted. No rules, no boundaries, and answered to no one but himself. He snickered. Well, no one except the paying client.

  Past experience taught him not to knock it. He’d been on the other side, bound by invisible ropes and tied to a railroad track to wait on a five o’clock train. After two short years as a detective on the Maplewood police force, he learned quickly he wasn’t cut out for rules and regulations. And although the Captain personally escorted him out of the station, Luke had been contacted by several detectives to assist on numerous cases. Off the record, of course.

  Luke flipped a pale, pink phone message between his fingers and reviewed the notes his secretary had taken earlier that morning. A personal matter. Not much to go on. Hell. Probably another cheating husband. Why was it he ended up working for every woman scorned in town? He smiled at the absurdity of his question. He was always such a sucker for a damsel in distress.

  A light knock at the door caused him to toss the message aside and check his watch. One hour on the dot. Time to saddle the white stallion.

  Grinning, he shifted the papers on his desk into a pile, stood, and opened the door. Supercharged ions crackled in the air when he found Allison on the other side.

  Sultry and slender, she was put together better than most jigsaw puzzles. His best guess: thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-four. A long coat draped across her shoulders yet left unbuttoned to expose her short skirt and low-cut blouse. Red. Not only a power color, but one that emphasized reddish-brown hair that rested in the curve of her shoulders. Redheads weren’t usually his type, but this one, well, he could make an exception in her case. True, he loved the ladies, but very rarely did he find himself in his current predicament with a prospective client. Tongue-tied and very... very... stiff.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to talk out here?”

  Her silky, syrupy voice wrapped him like a boa constrictor, deprived him of oxygen and squeezed all rational thought from his brain.

  “Mr. Owens?”

  The voice that pulled him from lustful appreciation forced him to focus. It was then he realized they were not alone. He wasn’t surprised to find Lucy standing there, but the other guest caused his heartbeat to screech to a halt.

  Squeezed between Allison’s professionally-polished nails, a strip of leather lay against her palm. And on the other end of the strip, an enormous, pissed-off looking Rottweiler poked his head from behind her legs.

  Luke swallowed hard. “I see you brought back-up.”

  Allison flashed another sexy smile and winked. “A single girl can never be too careful.”

  Holy shit. So much for dragging out the meeting. Short and sweet sounded better and better.

  Luke motioned at two chairs in front of his desk. “Okay, ladies. Please have a seat.”

  He shut the door and reached for Allison’s coat. Her cleavage introduced itself as she shrugged out of the wool cocoon. The muscled beast on the leash lay at her feet as she sat.

  Clearing his throat, Luke motioned for Lucy’s and then hung them. He then returned to his own chair. “What can I do for you?”

  Allison crossed her legs. The ones that made his cock twitch. “My sources tell me you’re the best. I need the best.”

  Sources? He hesitated, measuring her for a moment, before he throttled the mocking voice inside that demanded to know who they were. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Our boss turned up dead, stabbed in the neck with a syringe.”

  He paused for a split second, careful not to reveal too much of his knowledge. “Smallwood?”

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “Not this time. I heard it on the news.”

  She gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Lucy and I have become prime suspects.”

  Luke found his favorite ballpoint pen and rolled it back and forth between his palms.

  “I’m his nurse,” she continued, “or was, anyway. Lucy was the practice manager.”

  His eyes traveled down the soft curve of Allison’s neck to the creamy swell of her breasts peeking from the top of her blouse. “You don’t look like a nurse.”

  “You don’t look like a dick.”

  Screeching tires sounded in his brain. “Excuse me?”

  “A dick.” She grinned. “You know, Dick Tracy.”

  Luke felt his upper lip curl. Beautiful and witty. A lethal combination. “How do you know you’re suspects?”

  “Besides the fact that Lucy may have been the last to see him, we’ve both been questioned, followed and told not to leave town.”

  “Who contacted you?”

  “Detective Ben Ramsey.”

  “Did both of you get along well with the doctor?”

  Allison tilted her head to the side, almost as if amused by his question.

  “Lucy?” he pressed.

  “We got along,” she said tersely.

  “But?”

  Lucy exhaled hard. “He was a jerk! Between his inappropriate accidental touches and his condescending attitude, the man was close to impossible. And, to make matters worse, his patients sang his praises. Little did they know that behind their backs, he degraded them too. In his book, everyone was stupid, and he thought he was superior to every living thing. No rule of any shape or form applied to Dr. Smallwood; he spat in the face of authority. Personally, I hated him, but I didn’t kill him.”

  Somewhat surprised at Lucy’s outburst, Luke pressed further. “If you hated him that much, why didn’t you just quit?”

  “We liked the patients and working together,” Lucy continued. “So we tolerated him. Why would we kill him? Now we don’t have a job, and what are the odds that Allison and I will be able to work together at a new office?”

  Luke bit his tongue from pointing out that neither of them even needed a job. “Okay, so if it wasn’t you or Allison, do you have any idea who would want him dead?”

  Lucy shrugged. “He wasn’t well-liked in the medical community, but I don’t think anybody wanted to kill him.”

  “Someone did. Yet, I’m more interested in knowing why Ramsey would suspect either of you.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. “I saw Dr. Smallwood a couple hours before he was murdered.”

  Allison noticed a muscle tick at the base of Luke’s jaw. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  “It all started when Allison and I snuck into his hotel room.”

  Allison almost lau
ghed out loud when Luke’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “You snuck into his hotel room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “To take pictures.”

  He ran a hand across his brow and exhaled. “Lucy, start from the very beginning.”

  She gave him an abbreviated version of the chain of events that surrounded the Halloween party.

  “Since Allison and I figured something was up, we followed him.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Something was up alright.” She swallowed.

  “Then what?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Luke glanced at Allison, still poised. Not one single hint of emotion on her face. Her cat-shaped eyes never left his. “Go on, Lucy.”

  “They went upstairs to a room.”

  “So?”

  “Dr. Smallwood is married.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Men cheat on their wives all the time.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. “With other men? Dr. Smallwood’s companion was Dr. Winslow.”

  Still confused, he persisted. “Who is Dr. Winslow?”

  “Dr. Frank Winslow, another cosmetic surgeon and Chief of Staff at Maplewood Memorial Hospital.”

  “Did his association with Winslow bother you?”

  “I’m not that innocent, Detective. The fact that Dr. Smallwood is bisexual has nothing to do with my reaction. I just prefer not to have that sort of information about my boss.”

  “Why were they together?”

  “Don’t make me say it.”

  Finally, a grin split Allison’s ruby lips. “C’mon, Lucy, you can do it.”

  “To have sex.”

  Luke’s jaw slapped his chest. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. We saw them.”

  “In the act?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”