The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set

by H. P. Bayne

  Dez resisted the sigh. “Yeah, okay. What do I need to do?”

  “First thing is, go home and change. You can’t meet this client dressed like a common hoodlum, and I definitely don’t have anything to fit your gargantuan frame. Please tell me you own some proper trousers and a button-down.”

  “I’ve got some dressier clothes, yeah. What’s the difference?”

  “The client is Prescott Montague, as in Justice Prescott Montague. He’s a judge at the Court of Appeal, and word is he’s in line for a spot on the Supreme Court if he keeps playing his cards right.”

  This time, Dez couldn’t hold back the audible evidence of his disdain.

  “Something troubling you, junior?”

  “The guy’s got a reputation,” Dez said. “Even the other judges don’t like him. People say he left on an all-expenses-paid ego trip when he got appointed, and he’s never returned.”

  “All the more reason to look like you’re not slumming. Now stop whining. You sound like a second grader being strangled by his tie on class picture day.”

  Sully snickered. Dez smacked him.

  “It won’t be that bad,” Sully said once the two of them were headed back to Dez’s, Justice Montague’s address and a few other details written on a piece of paper Lachlan had provided. “Just be polite.”

  “I’m always polite. It would be easier if I knew Montague would return the favour.”

  “You think he’s that bad?”

  “He’s that bad. Dad told me about him. He has a habit of making lawyers cry. Women, men, junior, senior, doesn’t matter.”

  “He’s a bully. You know how to deal with those. You always dealt with mine like a pro.”

  Dez cast his brother a side-eye. “Something tells me I’m not allowed to punch a judge in the nose, Sull.”

  3

  The neighbourhood Justice Prescott Montague called home contained just a couple of addresses on each block, and the reason for the sparse population quickly became clear as Dez steered his SUV through the area.

  The properties here were expansive—large homes on large lots, the sort of places that made house and garden maintenance a full-time job.

  Justice Montague lived in a sprawling, two-storey home, fronted by what Dez guessed was Tyndall stone. A manicured yard featured a fountain out front and a half-moon driveway, sweeping visitors toward the house.

  The property wouldn’t have been complete without a wrought iron gate, ensuring anyone seeking admittance first needed to pass a test. Given the man’s propensity for infuriating nearly everyone with whom he came into contact, he likely needed the security more than most. Then again, it wasn’t likely many people actually sought the man out at home; a few hours dealing with him at work were probably far more than enough.

  Dez had left Sully and Pax at his place, and he guessed they were across the hall by now, being treated to some of Emily Crichton’s homemade coffee cake. Dez had showered, shaved and put on his best trousers with a shirt that wasn’t in need of ironing. It wouldn’t be so easy dressing Sully up, given the shaggy appearance his current life in hiding required him to maintain.

  While his brother no doubt pigged out on tea and dessert, Dez’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch yet, Lachlan insisting he not keep the new client waiting.

  A callbox stood this side of the gate, and Dez wondered how much convincing it would take to get Montague to allow him inside, spiffy pants and starched collar notwithstanding.

  Pressing the button, Dez waited a few minutes until he heard a voice crackle through the speaker. “Yes?”

  “Dez Braddock, sir. Lachlan Fields—”

  The second sentence wasn’t out of his mouth before the double gate drew inward, allowing Dez onto the cobbled driveway. It occurred to him halfway toward the house Lachlan had likely called the judge to let him know he was sending an agent rather than attending himself. Dez could think of no other explanation for the ready access he’d been granted.

  He half-expected a butler, but instead found the cross-looking judge waiting for him at the double-doored entry.

  “I understand Mr. Fields has some health concerns,” Montague said by way of greeting. “I hope you’re capable of filling his shoes.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Dez said.

  “The correct title is ‘Justice.’ I’d appreciate it if you used that rather than ‘sir’ or ‘mister.’”

  This was shaping up to be the case from hell.

  Dez decided to make a point of not beginning or ending any sentence in a way that would require use of a name or title. “Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The apology apparently formed a password of sorts as Montague held the door open wider and stood to the side, allowing Dez to enter. Inside, pale marble floors surrounded a sweeping staircase in a bright, open-entry hall, someone’s original artwork decorating the walls.

  “Nice place,” Dez said. He was going for friendly, but the attempt seemed lost on the man of the house.

  “Take off your shoes. The marble scuffs.”

  Dez did as asked. He waited until Montague turned to lead him farther into the house before narrowing his eyes at the back of the man’s head and surreptitiously extending a middle finger alongside his right thigh.

  The judge took him into a comfortable-looking office that reminded Dez of the one at Lachlan’s house, only bigger. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls, a large window to the right, overlooking the front yard. Montague slid in behind a heavy oak desk in the centre of the room, leaving Dez to contemplate whether he had the inherent permission to sit in one of two leather-upholstered armchairs this side. With no invitation forthcoming, Dez took his chances, relieved when no upbraiding resulted.

  “I’m told you’re missing a couple of rings?” Dez asked. His mind flashed on images of dark lords, hobbits and volcanos, and he stifled the threatening grin of amusement at the apt idea of Montague as Sauron.

  “I didn’t lose anything. My wife did. She wears both an engagement ring and a wedding band, both very expensive.”

  The judge turned a photo on his desk for Dez to see. In it, a young woman in her twenties stood next to Montague, her left hand on the man’s chest. How she’d managed to keep her hand upright given the size of the rock was anyone’s guess.

  Dez’s first thought was that the judge’s daughter must have borrowed the rings for family photos, but his mother’s voice sounded in his head before he opened his mouth: “Thought before speech is a virtue, Dez.”

  Just as well, because it took him an extra second to clue in that it wasn’t Montague’s daughter in that picture, but his wife. His very, very young wife.

  “That’s quite the ring.”

  Montague narrowed his eyes at his guest. “What are you getting at?”

  Dez held up his hands in a show of peace. “Nothing. Just saying. It must be worth a few bucks.”

  “A few.”

  “Lachlan told me she’s missing both, not just the engagement ring, right?”

  “Yes, both, but as you can no doubt tell, the diamond ring is worth far more.” The tone of the man’s voice suggested he wasn’t convinced Dez could tell, not about the worth of the ring or, come right down to it, much anything else.

  “Where did your wife lose the rings?”

  “Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t very well need you, now, would I?”

  “Point taken. When did you first notice they were missing?”

  “When she told me about it two days ago. She said she’d gone to the gym and she’d taken them off for her workout, as she usually does. When she went back to the locker room to shower and change, the rings were gone. I went back with her, and we had the locker and shower rooms checked top to bottom. We also had a plumber brought in to check the drain of the shower she’d used. Nothing.”

  “So when I asked where your wife lost the rings, you did actually have an answer for me, huh?” Dez had meant the comment to be gently ribbing, a tone that
usually got him sheepish smiles and confessions in less combative suspect interview situations.

  Montague would not have counted among the “less combative” of suspects. “Don’t be facetious. I won’t stand for cheek. Now, as I was saying, there was no sign of the rings at the gym.”

  “So you think someone stole them?”

  “That’s what my wife suggests must have happened.”

  One of Dez’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead, and he brought it back down before it could get him in more trouble. Even so, the observation needed raised. “You sound like you don’t believe her.”

  The judge sat forward, leaning into the arms he placed atop the desk. They were tanned and sinewy, and Dez guessed they would have, at one time, been the arms of a strong, active and handsome sportsman.

  “Now we come to the crux of the matter,” Montague said. His voice was low, causing Dez to sit forward to ensure he could hear. This wasn’t the sort of man you wanted to ask to repeat himself. Yet, he offered nothing further, leading Dez to take the next step.

  “What crux?”

  “My wife, as you can see, is a very attractive young woman. It’s not lost on me that the same features and characteristics that attracted me to her draw other men as well. And while I’m careful to take care of my health and appearance, I appreciate I am not the young man I once was.”

  He paused again, but this time Dez held his tongue. No way he was going to be the one to voice the obvious conclusion.

  The man’s humiliation sat there, heavy in the silence. He was wealthy, intelligent, powerful and, at one time, was said to have been among the most eligible bachelors in the city. Not the type used to being made into a fool. The very idea he’d bowed to the powers of a woman, and that she’d betrayed him, had to carry with it a sting he wasn’t likely to stop feeling anytime soon.

  Dez waited him out. The words came, as he expected they would, through a clenched jaw and a deep and furious grumble. Had Dez not been anticipating the nearly indecipherable statement, he would have had to suck it up and ask the judge to repeat it.

  “I think my wife is having an affair.”

  Dez gave it a couple seconds, allowing the words to sit there. Then, realizing the judge would be expecting surprise on Dez’s part, he forced his eyebrows up his forehead and dropped his jaw so his mouth popped open a little. “I can’t think why she would.” Lest Montague suspect sarcasm, Dez quickly added, “I mean, you’re one of the most powerful men in the city. She’s got to know how lucky she is, right?”

  When no snarky comment or glare followed, Dez decided he’d succeeded.

  “You’re right about that,” Montague said. “I’ve given that woman everything. But she signed a prenuptial agreement that explicitly stated any extramarital shenanigans would leave her without any of my money or possessions. She didn’t have much coming into this marriage, and she’d leave with just that. I haven’t confronted her with this, but she has to know I suspect something. I’d hoped Mr. Fields could find out what she’s been up to, and gather evidence if it’s as I fear. As it happens, it would appear I’m stuck with you.”

  Dez resisted a verbal comeback. Nothing good would come of it. This was a paying job, and he’d spent all his extra money last month helping Eva buy Kayleigh’s soccer equipment for the school team she’d wanted to join. Raising a child didn’t come cheap, and Dez had been battling his own humiliation over the fact unemployment had made it so hard to meet his financial responsibilities as a father. The thought of a paying job was enough to put a smile on Dez’s face as he responded to the crusty judge.

  “I’ll do my best for you, sir.”

  “Justice.”

  “Right,” Dez said. “Sorry.”

  He didn’t repeat the man’s correction.

  Dez had bent over backward being nice to the jerk, but he didn’t hold the same pretences once back at his apartment building.

  He took a bite from the takeout burger he’d stopped off for en route, talking around it as Sully, Emily Crichton and Pax listened at her kitchen table.

  “The guy’s a certifiable asshole. It’s no wonder he called Lachlan. The two of them are like twins. Twin assholes.” He paused, looking at his elderly neighbour. “Sorry for swearing.”

  Emily chuckled and patted his hand. “I understand, dear.”

  “It’s paying at least, right?” Sully said. “That’s a good thing.”

  “It’s the only thing that kept me from giving it back to him. I mean, no wonder the guy’s wife’s on the make. Who wouldn’t be when you’ve gotta come home to that?”

  “Perhaps he has some positive qualities few people know about,” Emily said.

  Pax nuzzled his large head up against Dez’s ribcage. Dez tore off a piece of burger and tossed it to him. “Very, very few people. And, frankly, I can’t imagine he’s the sort of guy who’s going to keep any positive attributes a secret. He’d insist on the whole world knowing just how great a guy he truly is.”

  “Did you talk to his wife yet?”

  “The beautiful Tessa Montague? No, I haven’t, and I'm not planning to. She’s at work, but the judge gave me a rundown of her usual after-work haunts. I’m going to have to tail her for a while, try to get a sense of her routine. With any luck, I’ll catch her in the act sooner rather than later so I can get out from under the guy’s thumb.”

  “Are you sure that’s what he really wants?” Sully asked. “I’m guessing what he’d actually like is for you to go back to him and say her rings really were stolen at the gym. If so, he isn’t likely to end a happy customer if you turn up with pictures of her and another guy.”

  That gave Dez pause. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Damn. There really isn’t a good way through this, is there?”

  Sully shrugged. Emily patted his hand again but, for the first time since he’d met her, didn’t offer any grandmotherly advice.

  “Did you talk to Lachlan about it?” Sully asked.

  “He told me to suck it up.”

  Sully laughed. Dez cuffed him on the side of the head.

  “I’d better finish this and get myself set up so I can start surveillance once she’s done work. What are you going to do?”

  “I need to get back to Winteredge, see if I can find the ghost I saw last night,” Sully said. “Just not sure how I’m going to get there.”

  “You can borrow my car, dear,” Emily said.

  “Pax sheds. Like, a lot.”

  “I’ve noticed. It’s fine. I don’t drive much anymore, anyway. It isn’t likely to bother me.”

  Dez and Sully parted ways in the parking lot out back.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Sully. If he tries to lead you underground, wait until I’m with you.”

  “I don’t always have the option to wait. You know that.”

  Dez did know that. It didn’t mean he liked it. He’d gone two years thinking he’d lost his brother in a cave collapse. He was probably being paranoid, but it wasn’t without cause.

  He thought through his options, coming up with the best one in the circumstances.

  “How do you think Bulldog would feel about spelunking?”

  4

  The park was busy with campers enjoying the weekend, creating plenty of obstacles for Sully to avoid.

  He pulled the ball cap he’d borrowed from Dez a little farther down on his forehead as he steered through the busiest sections. He doubted the people he was hiding from would be caught dead camping, but it paid to be careful.

  From here to his family’s usual campsite was a bit of a drive, and Sully was grateful once again for its impractical distance from the popular sections of the park. As was the case last night, there was no sign of anyone around, save one vehicle positioned nearby at the start of one of several walking trails winding through the forest.

  They’d decided it would be best for Sully to take Dez’s SUV, given Emily’s car wasn’t likely to make it through some of the rougher sections of roadway. That, and they’d discovere
d one of her headlights was burned out. Dez would replace it later but, for now, anyone driving her car was risking a ticket. Given the fact the dead didn’t drive, Sully no longer had a licence, and it was questionable whether Billy “Bulldog” Bird had ever possessed one—making it plenty risky for either of them to be in charge of Emily’s in-need-of-work car.

  Sully had yet to hear a full sentence from Bulldog, which was unusual for the man. Parking next to the campsite, Sully turned to his passenger, expecting to find him asleep.

  Bulldog was staring at him.

  “What?” Sully asked.

  Bulldog shook his head, then scrubbed at his jowls. “Sorry, just having a hard time with all this. I still can’t believe this is you.”

  After Sully’s kidnapping last week, Dez had brought Bulldog on board for the search, making him aware of Sully’s predicament out of necessity. Until then, Bulldog had been like everyone else, believing Sully had died two years ago. When Sully had pulled the SUV to the edge of Riverview Park a little while ago, Bulldog had hopped in and promptly attached himself to Sully in a vicelike embrace.

  From the look on his face, a second hug was waiting the moment they were out of the vehicle.

  “I’m sorry I had to put everyone through that. I didn’t have a choice. Thanks for helping Dez, though. I appreciate it.”

  He slid out and headed to the hatch, where Dez had stowed a few items they thought might come in handy for a cave search: rope, gloves and flashlights, among other items, all bunched up inside the backpack Sully slung over a shoulder.

  He’d just closed the hatch when he was attacked from the side, a pair of thick, strong arms sealing around his torso and squeezing hard enough to force air from his lungs.

  “Damn, it’s good to see you, kid.”