Probably easier to lock us in the trunk alive and then make us climb out on our own before they shot us.
“Go on,” Martha said, gesturing with the gun. “Shoo, shoo.”
Farley was already behind the wheel, remotely opening the garage door preparatory to us heading out. The heavy door metal door started moving up along its track, rattling as it went. The noise almost drowned out Martha’s voice.
“Go on, now. Stop dawdling.”
It didn’t drown out the command coming from outside. “This is the police. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up.”
The amplified voice was accompanied by two bright lights that flashed on, illuminating the interior of the garage and nearly blinding me. I threw a hand up to cover my eyes. Mendoza, meanwhile, dropped his arm from across my shoulders and threw himself at Martha.
I don’t know whether she planned to shoot him or whether her finger just tightened on the trigger in surprise. Either way, the bullet whizzed by and buried itself in the trunk of the Cadillac with a ping. The gunshot itself was loud enough to shake my eardrums. Mendoza knocked Martha to the floor, flipped her over, and landed on her. Meanwhile, the voice outside continued to give instructions.
“This is the police. You are surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
“Gimme your belt,” Mendoza said breathlessly, holding out a hand.
I untied it from around my waist and watched as he used it to tie Martha’s hands behind her back.
“Get the gun.”
No problem. It had landed a few feet away. I picked it up, gingerly, and brought it to him.
“Thank you.” He plucked it out of my hand, and then grabbed my wrist and yanked me down. I landed next to him, on top of Martha, who gave out another whoomph as all the air left her lungs.
“Stay,” Mendoza told me.
Sure. I made myself comfortable and watched as he walked over to the driver’s side door and yanked Farley out by the arm. “On the ground. Hands behind your head.”
It was quite masterful, especially as I knew his head had to hurt like hell.
From outside, the voice kept droning. “We are the police. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.”
Mendoza snorted, and then raised his voice. “It’s OK. You can stop now.”
“Oh, good,” a voice said, non-amplified this time. “I was running out of ideas.”
I stared at him. “Zachary?”
He grinned. “Hi, Mrs. Kelly.”
“Zachary?”
“Yes, Mrs. Kelly.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t come back,” Zachary said, “so I got worried. I knew where you’d gone, so when I got off work, I drove out here to make sure you were OK. And I saw the old dude—” he glanced at Farley, “get in your car—” he looked at Mendoza, “and drive away. That didn’t seem right, so I followed him.”
“Where did he go?” Mendoza asked.
“Bus station in downtown. He parked in the lot, went inside one side of the terminal and out the other, and hailed a cab. Cab dropped him back here. I figured you had to be inside the house somewhere, so I decided to wait. I figured they’d bring you out sooner or later.”
Good thing they brought us out alive, I thought. Although I didn’t mention that to Zachary. He’d done a fine job of saving the day, and telling him that had things gone differently, he might have saved a couple of corpses, would only be rain on his parade.
“Thank you,” I said instead, and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. He flushed red, all the way to the roots of his hair.
Mendoza nodded. “Good job, kid. Help me load these folks into the back seat, and then you can take Mrs. Kelly home while I drive to the nearest cop shop.”
“You don’t need me to stay?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll get your signature on your statement tomorrow. You already told me everything that happened on your end.”
“Head OK?”
“Fine,” Mendoza said, probably lying through this teeth.
But his head wasn’t my responsibility, and he was a grown man. He’d get himself and his head looked at when he was ready.
“I put my purse down next to the sofa in the parlor when I came in,” I said. “I’m going to go get it, and then we can leave.”
Zachary nodded. He was in the process of trying to haul Martha to her feet, so he probably had no breath left for talking.
I didn’t even spare her a glance as I walked past her and into the house her grandfather had built. The house I sincerely hoped she wouldn’t get to see again for the rest of her natural life.
Epilogue
“I’M THINKING OF becoming a PI,” I told Diana a few days later.
We were sitting across from one another at a table at the Germantown Café, having lunch. And celebrating, after a successful meeting with Anton Hess and Judge Miller. Or successful for us, I should say; not so much for Anton, as the judge had decided that since David had played dirty and tried to hide assets from me, I was entitled to half of everything he owned, along with a hefty monthly alimony.
Of course, the fact that he was now dead complicated things. David’s will had to go through probate, and his estate would be divided between Krystal, Kenny, and Daniel. My share would stay with me, but I’d get no alimony from a dead man. So while I wasn’t a pauper, I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, either. I was looking for something I could do, that would help keep me in the style to which I had become accustomed while being David’s wife. Or at least something that would keep some money coming in.
Diana stared at me. “Have you lost your mind, Gina?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’d be providing a valuable service. All those wives whose husbands are catting around, deserve to know the truth. And I think I’d like it. It was fun, following David around. If I become a PI, I get to do it for money.”
“You had fun, following David around?”
I nodded. “Sure. And Jacquie and Nick.” There was a certain thrill in sneaking along behind someone, wondering whether they’d spotted you or not. In trying to outwit them. It was the first time I’d been required to use my mind in years—the job of being David’s wife having been singularly brainless—and I’d enjoyed it.
“Besides, I really feel that I could provide value. There are so many husbands out there, sleeping with their secretaries while their wives are at home, suspecting nothing. And there are so many husbands trying to cheat their wives out of their fair share in the divorce. A wife whose husband is banging his secretary as well as hiding assets, deserves to know the truth about what he’s doing.”
Diana took a sip of her cocktail. Once again, she was walking back to work, and I was driving. “How do you plan to do that? You don’t know how to run a business.”
“No,” I said, “but Rachel does.”
Diana put the glass down. “Your husband’s admin?”
I nodded. “Farley fired her, you know. So he could bring in Shelby, the airhead who’d never in a million years realize he was embezzling.”
Diana nodded.
“Rachel’s husband died years ago. Heart attack in someone else’s bed. That’s why she had to go back to work and ended up working for David. So she has her own beef about cheating husbands. She’s very organized, so she can run any kind of business, and she’s been going through Farley’s papers and figuring out exactly what he’s been doing. After this week, she’ll know all about hiding money.”
“And she’s willing to work for you?”
“Not just willing.” I grinned. “She feels so bad because she didn’t tell me what David was up to, or realize what Farley was doing, that she practically begged me to take her on. She thinks she could have prevented David’s death if she’d only realized that the embezzling was going on.”
Diana cocked her head. “Do you think she could have?”
Maybe, maybe not. “If she’d figured it out and had confronted him, he might have k
illed her instead. If she’d figured it out and told David... I’m not sure. Things might have turned out differently. But maybe not.”
Farley had been willing to kill his oldest and best friend. He might have been willing to kill David under those circumstances, as well.
“And Zachary’s going to be helping me,” I added.
“The doorman from the Apex?”
“He wants to be a cop. After saving the day on Sunday, he’s even more determined now. He thought working security at the Apex would give him a leg up on the competition, but working for a PI will be even better.”
Diana took another sip of her drink. “How do you like living there? At the Apex?”
“I like it,” I said. “It’s nice. Centrally located. Safe. Nobody’s going to burn it down.”
She shook her head.
“And it’s the perfect size. After David left, I realized just how big the house in Hillwood is. It was just me, and other than the funeral reception,” and Mendoza, who didn’t count, “I never had anyone visit. When David was there, at least we used to have his clients over for dinner once in a while. Or Farley and Martha.”
“What’s going on with them?” Diana wanted to know.
“They’re in prison. Mendoza argued that they were a flight risk—they have plenty of money and nothing to keep them here—so they didn’t get bail.” I grimaced. “Martha’s trying to push everything on to Farley. She had no idea that he’d had anything to do with David’s death until I told her so on Sunday. She had no idea he’d broken into David’s penthouse or torched my house. She had no idea he’d been embezzling. It all came as a shock to her, after thirty years of marriage, and she lost her mind for a few hours.”
“Temporary insanity,” Diana said.
I nodded. “She might even get away with it. She’s playing it for all she’s worth, anyway.”
Diana smiled. “I take it you don’t believe her.”
“Not for a minute. She was in it up to her ears. Farley would never have dared to do anything without consulting her first.”
I hadn’t realized that at the time, but once I’d thought about it later, it made perfect sense. No, he wouldn’t have cheated. He was completely devoted to Martha, who wore the pants in the relationship, figuratively speaking.
“It was probably her idea from the start,” I said.
“Then let’s hope the jury sees through her dignified Southern wife act, and sentences her as she deserves.” Diana hoisted her glass. I hoisted mine, full of water. I was a little leery of tea just now.
We clinked and drank.
“So you’ll be staying on at the Apex,” Diana said when she’d put her glass down.
I nodded. “I like it there. No bad memories. Nice size. Lovely view. Once the contractors finish repairing the fire damage, I’m going to list the house for sale. I already have a realtor lined up. She called me out of the blue a couple of days ago, and said a friend of hers with the MNPD had told her to call. I figure it was probably Mendoza. Or someone he talked to.”
Diana nodded.
“The furniture is already gone. I put it on consignment with a store in Belle Meade. And the convertible is gone, too.”
“I noticed that,” Diana said, glancing out the window to where my new-to-me, smallish, black SUV was parked. “Used car?”
“The convertible wasn’t good for following anyone around. Too conspicuous. Even Jacquie noticed it. If I’m going to be a PI, I need an inconspicuous car. Not shiny-new, not brightly colored. Nothing that anyone would notice.” I gave my new ride a fond look through the window. “That’s a Lexus, but not the most expensive kind. It’s five years old, so it’s not in perfect condition anymore. And it looks like half the other cars on the road. Nobody will notice me if I drive it.”
She glanced at my head. “What about the hair?”
I put a hand to it, self-consciously. “I’ll wear a wig.”
The red was about taking back who I was. I wasn’t giving it up, even to become a PI.
Diana—the blonde—nodded. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I’ve already started studying for the PI license. The next exam is in a week.” I dug in my purse and pulled out an oversized paperback. “This is the textbook.”
Diana took a look at the title and arched her brows. “Private Investigating for Dummies?”
“It’s what they recommended,” I said. “I’m learning a lot.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you are. So when will you be open for business?”
I put the book on the chair next to me, with a fond pat. “I guess a couple of weeks after I know I’ve passed the exam and the license is official. So about a month from now.”
Diana nodded.
“We already have an office. I’m taking over the Hollingsworth & Kelly building on Music Row. Someone has to. And it’s the perfect size for us. An office for me, an office for Zachary, and an office for Rachel. Not to mention that it’s a perfect location.” And if I kept the pictures of Hank and Patsy and Jim on the walls, it would look like I’d been there forever, too.
“And a name?” Diana asked. “Do you have that?”
“We’ve been talking about it. Zachary wants to call it Spousebusters.”
Diana chuckled. “He’s young.”
“It’s cute. But probably a little too cute. We want to be taken seriously.”
And I couldn’t quite picture myself handing someone a business card from Spousebusters. “Rachel wants to call us Fidelity Investigations,” I added.
“I like it,” Diana said.
I nodded. “Me, too. Serious. Businesslike. And accurate. That’s what we’d be doing. Investigating fidelity. Or infidelity.”
Diana grinned.
“We have some time to figure it out,” I said. “First I have to pass the exam. Then we have to incorporate the business and work out all the details of the partnership. And then we have to actually dig up some clients.”
“I can help you with that,” Diana said.
“The incorporation?” Wouldn’t we need a corporate attorney for that? “Aren’t you too busy with your own share of cheating spouses to take on my business incorporation paperwork?”
“You have no idea,” Diana said grimly. “I wasn’t talking about your business incorporation, Gina. I could do it, but you’re better off hiring someone who does it as a specialty. There are finer points I might miss. What I meant is that I can offer you some business.”
“Oh. Good.” She probably could, now that I thought about it. That hadn’t even crossed my mind until now, but people probably talked to her about their suspicions of their spouses before they actually filed for divorce. And she could send them my way to find out whether their suspicions were warranted. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Diana said. “I want you to investigate Steven.”
I blinked. “Your husband?”
She nodded.
“Your husband’s cheating?”
“I don’t know,” Diana said. “But something’s going on. And I want to know what.”
Naturally. “Consider it done.”
In fact, I’d start right now. This afternoon. As soon as we finished lunch. I wouldn’t charge her, anyway, so whether I had a license or not at this point, didn’t matter. There’s no law to prevent anyone from following someone else around. Apart from the various stalking laws and such, but of course I wouldn’t be stalking Steven.
Diana shook her head. “Get situated first. I want it all legal and on the up and up. Just come see me when you’ve passed your exam and have your license. He’s not going anywhere in the next couple of weeks. And you only have a few days left to study.”
Fine. “I appreciate it,” I said.
“Don’t mention it,” Diana answered. “I trust you to tell me the truth.”
“Of course.”
“And to keep it confidential.”
“Naturally.”
She smiled. “S
o does Jaime know about this?”
“Mendoza? I haven’t mentioned it to him.” I hadn’t seen him since Monday. He’d stopped by to get my signature, like he’d said he would, but that was the last time I’d seen him.
Which was as it should be. It had been a fleeting relationship rooted in circumstances, my lascivious thoughts about him notwithstanding. He had been investigating my husband’s murder. It wasn’t like we were friends. Or anything more.
“Let me know when you do,” Diana said. “I’d like to be there. To see his face.”
Uh-oh. “I guess he doesn’t have a high opinion of private investigators?”
“You could say that,” Diana said, grinning. “His wife hired one before the divorce. And slept with him.”
“The PI?”
Diana nodded.
“Isn’t that illegal?” The Private Investigating for Dummies book said it was. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to sleep with your clients. It’s a conflict of interest.
“Very. So not only did Jaime have to deal with this PI following him around and snapping pictures while his wife was suing him for child support, but then she ended up marrying the guy. So now Jaime’s kid is being brought up by the guy who nailed him for adultery. He has good reasons to dislike the profession. And that doesn’t count the professional ones.”
Wonderful.
“I guess that’s how you met,” I said. “You represented him in the divorce.”
“I represented Lola,” Diana said.
“His wife?”
She nodded. “I often represent the wives. They like having a female attorney.”
Since that was the reason I had hired her myself—aside from the fact that she had a reputation for being very good at what she did—I couldn’t very well argue with that. In fact, I was hoping the same thing would hold true for female PIs. That women would feel more comfortable hiring me than a man.
“I just assumed, since the two of you seem to get along so well...”
Ditching David Page 22