P.I. I Love You (Miss Demeanor Suspense Series Book 1)

by Joanne Jaytanie

  “Yes, by all means, Ms. Nightingale.”

  “Then follow me, and please call me River.”

  She escorted him into the next room. They entered a large open area, with four desks spread throughout. This set-up was more spacious than he’d thought. It included a conference room which ran along one side of the entire area. Beyond a glass wall he could see a large antique cherry table surrounded by leather chairs. She pulled on the brushed bronze door pull and allowed him to enter.

  “Before we get started would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

  “No, thanks,” Blake said.

  “What is it I can do for you, Mr. Baxter?”

  “Please, call me Blake. My issue is twofold. First, I believe my parents were murdered.” He waited for a response from her, but River merely picked up her coffee, sipped and waited for him to continue. “The police closed the case. They said it was an accident. They believe my Father lost control of the vehicle. I don’t think that’s what happened.”

  “I see. And your second issue?”

  “It’s even more complicated. After the death of our parents, my younger sister, Garnet, and I were going through our parents’ personal belongings. My mother kept her own personal safe in her sitting and dressing room. From what the attorney tells me, none of us, including my father, had the combination, but our attorney had it. He gave us a sealed envelope with the combination inside. Most of what we found didn’t surprise us. Her favorite pieces of jewelry, a baby picture of each of us, locks of baby hair. The kind of things a mother would hold onto. What did surprise us was a sealed envelope addressed to Garnet and me.” Blake stopped and rubbed his palms on his slacks.

  “Inside was this.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a tiny hospital wristband. He handed the band to her. She held it with great care and brought it closer to read the faded words.

  “Baby girl, Baxter. Calistoga General, California. Your sister’s?”

  He got the sensation she knew the answer to the question before she even asked it.

  “No. We were both born here in Seattle. With the band was a letter that explained what happened. When I was four and my sister three, Mom admits she and Dad were having problems. I remember that he worked long hours and I believe he likely had an affair. Dad moved out for a while and left the three of us. Anyway, I recall a family friend, Mr. George we called him, visiting on a regular basis. A few months later my parents got back together and shortly after that, Mom found out she was pregnant. Our mother left and went to visit her parents in Cellar Glen. The only thing I remember was how upset the two of us were that she would leave us behind. She’d never done it before and never did it again.”

  “And the baby wasn’t your father’s,” River said.

  “No. Mr. George was the father. We never laid eyes on him, after Mom and Dad got back together. Dad refused to allow the child to become part of the family. He gave Mom two choices—the baby or her family. So, Mom left and went to stay with her parents, in Cellar Glen. Calistoga is the closest town with a hospital. It was there she gave birth to a baby girl, and put her up for adoption. Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad had a loving marriage as far back as I can recollect, except for this one incident. Garnet and I were their world. Anyway, back to the letter. Mom begged Garnet and me to find our half-sister and bring her into the family where she belongs. She mentioned that recently Dad regretted placing Mom in the situation he did. He took full blame for their problems and spoke about trying to locate our sister. He could’ve found her, if she’d been his priority. But it seems he died before he could redeem his sins.”

  “Did your mother arrange the adoption?”

  “Yes, a closed adoption. She said it was for the safety of her daughter.”

  “So, you would like me to investigate your parents’ car accident and locate your sister? What does your sister, Garnet think about all this?”

  “She’s with me one-hundred percent. She couldn’t bring herself to come today. My parents’ death devastated her. So much so, I’ve moved back into the family home for the time-being. Garnet moved back home after graduate school. Mom and Dad offered to let her stay until she could save enough money for a down payment on her own place.”

  “I see. What does your sister do?”

  “Like me, she works in the family business, Baxter Imports. We’re the largest importer in Seattle. Garnet studied finance and went into the accounting department. My parents were firm believers of working your way up, so she started at an entry level in the department. Of course that all changed with their deaths two months ago. Garnet is now chief financial officer and I’m the CEO.”

  River reached for a pad of paper and pen sitting on the table and made her first note.

  “Do you think your promotions caused problems among your employees?”

  “No. Everyone knew I would one day take Dad’s place and Garnet would take over Mom’s position. My parents started this company together. Mom’s family supplied the majority of funds to get it off the ground. They were work colleagues who fell in love. Garnet has followed in their path in more ways than one.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Her boyfriend, Ellis, works in the IT department. Thank goodness for him. He’s supported Garnet through this experience.”

  River made another note on her pad.

  “Here are all the files and a copy of my mother’s letter,” Blake said, as he pulled out a thick file folder. “The police report of my parents’ accident is included. I’ve notified the detective I would be hiring a private investigator. He definitely came off as less than thrilled when I informed him.”

  “Is your parents’ vehicle still in police impound?”

  “Yes. Our attorney sent a registered letter after we received the police report stating the vehicle must not be destroyed until they hear from him.”

  Chapter Three

  River walked into the precinct on Fourth Street. The building buzzed with activity. She wondered why people weren’t falling all over one another, given how fast they moved. Yes, she knew cop shops— she’d spent her last ten years living in one—but it was nothing like this. When she asked for directions to the detectives’ bullpen, the sergeant at the front desk looked her up and down, rolled his eyes, then pointed behind him and went back to a pile of paperwork.

  She walked slowly by each door, reading the nameplates as she passed, until she came to the door of Homicide Detective Gage Hamlin. The office walls were glass giving her a clear view of the man studying his computer. His disheveled coffee-colored hair brushed the collar of his button-down royal blue shirt. He looked over the top of his computer screen, his sapphire-colored eyes locking on hers. River smiled and gave a cursory knock on the half-opened door.

  “Detective Hamlin?” River asked.

  “Yeah, last time I checked. Do we have an appointment?” Detective Hamlin asked as he grabbed his phone, and scrolled through, looking for an answer.

  “No—no appointment. But if you’re not too busy, I wonder if we could chat for a few minutes?”

  Detective Hamlin smiled, rose to his feet, walked around his desk, and pulled the door open wider. He gestured for her to enter.

  “Sure, I have a few minutes. How can I help you, Miss—?” He grabbed the pile of files and loose papers out of the closest chair and dumped them into the next one over.

  “My name is River Nightingale. I’m a private detective, and I’ve been hired by the Baxter family to investigate their parents’ death.”

  River watched as his sparkling eyes and dazzling smile faded from his chiseled features. The reaction would take her a while to get used to.

  “I see,” Detective Hamlin said, tight-lipped. “I’ve no idea why they would hire you. I worked the case and closed it.”

  “That’s the point, Detective Hamlin
. The Baxters don’t agree with your conclusion and asked me to review your findings.”

  “Wait one damn minute. Despite how many open cases are assigned to me, I’m a professional. My work is careful and thorough. On what grounds do they find my work inadequate? And you—you don’t even know what hoops I have to jump through. You’re just another ambulance chaser, a clueless private dick.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I do know what kind of hoops you jump through. I just left my position as an officer.”

  “What? Couldn’t handle the hard work?” He scoffed.

  “I thrive on hard work. I worked hard for ten years and closed more cases than all my colleagues combined. What I do have a problem with is being passed over for promotions while some yahoo, with half the closed cases and experience gets the job. And why? Merely because he has a dick and I don’t.”

  He made a grunting sound, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. River stared at him, daring him to make his next nasty comment.

  “The case is officially mine, which means anything you do, anything you discover, you tell me.” He popped forward in his chair and started to punch the keys on his keyboard. “Do you want a paper copy, or should I email it to you?” he asked.

  She’d let his statement slide for now. They both knew it wasn’t true; she didn’t need to keep him informed. No sense ruffling his overly irritated ego.

  “My client supplied a paper copy. I would appreciate an electronic one, please.” She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to him.

  “Miss Demeanor Private Detective Agency.” Hamlin read out loud. “So you purchased the old agency.”

  “That’s correct. Along with three friends, who are all experienced policewomen.”

  “I’ve never heard your name, and I know most of the cops in the city by face if not name.”

  “I’m not from here.”

  “Huh.” He grunted as he studied her.

  River quietly withstood his scrutiny. She knew he was trying to make her uncomfortable, testing her, trying to make her fidget or feel insecure. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “I’m heading over to impound right now. Nothing against your report, it’s thorough enough. All the same, I’m a hands-on type of person. I find I work better when I’m able to investigate things first hand, and reach my own conclusions. I’ll get out of your hair now. I just wanted to stop by, introduce myself, and give you a heads-up about the Baxters hiring me to work their case.”

  Hamlin simply stared at her. The look on his face—priceless. She couldn’t help herself. Forget not wanting to push his buttons, she thought. This man needed a little ruffling. River wanted to smile or stick out her tongue at him. She held her composure. The last thing she wanted to do was piss him off more. Like he said, the case was technically still his, closed or open, and if she was going to solve it successfully, it would be easier to have him on her side. She needed to win him over, so no better time to start than the present.

  “However, if you’re free for a bit, I’d appreciate your insight,” she said, as she rose from the chair.

  “I can’t spare you much, but I’ll take you over to impound,” he grumbled.

  ****

  He drove in silence as River studied her file.

  No doubt trying to find a screw up, Gage thought. Well, she wouldn’t find a single one. As with all his cases, he’d made sure to be thorough. Especially with the Baxter case. Shit, the last thing he needed was to muck up the case of one of the richest families in the city, so he’d been particularly careful. Still, he’d make sure to keep a close watch on River Nightingale.

  This entire situation was a complete surprise. Yes, he’d received a call from the Baxter’s attorney, but he had to admit, he thought they were blowing smoke. They’d made noise a couple times before and nothing ever came of it. When he saw this pixie-like girl looking in his window, the last thing running though his mind was private investigator. She didn’t look much more than a teenager to him. Her sparkling gold hair, bright-blue eyes, and dazzling smile were sexy as hell and threw him off his game, but only for a short time. He had to give her credit, she could throw his shit right back at him. His razor-sharp comebacks usually intimidated his adversaries. Not this one. She volleyed them right back at him. He couldn’t help himself, it made him smile.

  “Did I miss the punch line?” River asked.

  “What—ah, nope. Just thinking about another case is all.” Lame Hamlin, very lame.

  He flashed his badge as he drove into the police impound.

  “We walk from here,” Gage said, as he pulled into the first available parking spot. The mangled SUV was located in the second row.

  “Your report stated a single car accident,” River said.

  “Yeah. Wade Baxter had been driving all day. They got into Seattle around one in the morning, driving down East Madison. We saw a few broken skid marks that suggested excessive speed and overcompensated steering. There were no other vehicles around at the time of the accident. People nearby heard the crash. The front tires hit the curb and the vehicle flipped. Both occupants were killed instantly.”

  “You found no other skid marks than the ones up the hill? Nothing continuous?” River asked.

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange he overcompensated, and didn’t even attempt to brake?”

  “When you see as much shit as I’ve seen, nothing seems strange.”

  “Did you test the brakes?”

  “Of course we did. What do you take me for, a complete jackass?” Gage asked.

  “I don’t know you and have no opinion. I’m just trying to get you to tell me something I didn’t see in the file.”

  “Let me put your mind at ease. I had my guys check to see that all fluids in the vehicle were full.”

  “Did you have a forensic test done on any of them?”

  “No need. They were full.”

  River pulled out her phone and punched in a number.

  “Hey, it’s River. How soon can you get over to the police impound and drain the brake fluid on my client’s SUV?” She listened. “Great. I need the results as quickly as you can get them done…I know it’s a rush job and it will cost me. Believe me; my client will cover your costs…thanks.”

  “Who was that?” Gage asked, not being able to help himself.

  “A friend,” she answered slyly.

  So she wanted to play this game, he thought.

  “Just tell me to mind my own business. Don’t insult me with your smartass answers. You’re not going to find anything.”

  “I think I hit a nerve. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. Since, as you say, I’m not going to find anything, this shouldn’t be of concern to you. I don’t want to keep you any longer. Shall we head back?”

  The first thing Gage would do when he got back to his office was check out River Nightingale. An itch began between his shoulder blades, but he was sure that itch would migrate south, because this woman was clearly going to be a pain in his ass.

  Chapter Four

  “Homicide, Gage, make it quick,” Gage answered his phone.

  “Detective Hamlin, it’s River Nightingale. This is a courtesy call. The Baxter’s attorney will be petitioning the court first thing tomorrow to reopen their case.”

  “Based on what half-baked notion?”

  River could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

  “The results from my forensic lab.”

  “You needed a forensic lab to tell you the SUV had brake fluid?” he asked.

  “The lab did a chemical analysis of the brake fluid. You were perfectly correct. The SUV was indeed full of fluid. Unfortunately, it was the wrong type. The brake fluid overheated and the brakes failed. Basically,
the fluid turned into steam. This caused the brakes to fail.”

  “What the fuc—”

  River cut him off before he could finish.

  “Without testing the fluid you would never discover this problem. You see, once the brakes cool, the fluid condenses and appears normal.”

  “And you know this how?” The heat level rose with each word.

  “Firsthand, actually. A few years ago I drove one of the Crown Vics from my department. The brakes failed and I ended up in a corn field. Forensics discovered the brake fluid was at fault, exactly like the Baxters’ accident, repeated heavy braking. Only in my case, it happened during a chase. The ongoing braking led to unexpected brake failure. Ironic isn’t it? The little town of Bear Creek uses a forensic lab. Maybe that’s something you should add to your bag of tools. Good night, Detective Hamlin.”

  River smiled as she hung up the phone in the middle of his extremely colorful tirade.

  “River, there’s a Detective Gage Hamlin here to see you,” Cory said, on the phone.

  “Does he look pissed?”

  “Since I’ve never met the man, I couldn’t say for sure. I can tell you this, he’s ultra-hot.”

  “Thanks Cory, that’s just what I need—you stroking his ego.”

  “Believe me I can think of other things to—”

  “You finish your sentence and you’re fired. I’ll be right up.”

  River heard Cory giggle as she hung up the phone.

  “Good morning, detective. I’m surprised to see you here,” River said, as she entered the reception area.

  “Thanks for seeing me. Nice place,” Hamlin said.

  She walked him back to the conference room.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

  “You know damn well…sorry. Let me start again. We got the petition a few days ago. I’ve gotten petitions before, but knew they didn’t have a leg to stand on. It’s been years since I’ve been on the losing side. To say my captain reamed me a new one, is an understatement.”