Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

“We don’t kill without a good reason. If a client lies to you, that’s a big clue that there’s a good reason to kill the client.” She went on, obvious to the fact that Larry had set down his exacto knife and was staring at his hands, “Do your research. If things seem hinky, do more research.”

  Finn stood and took her cup over to the coffee bar to rinse it out. “People know about the Killer with a Conscience. Bad guys don’t like us.”

  “Because we only kill bad guys,” Tim said.

  “Yeah. And they’d love to see us screw up and kill a good guy like Larry. Don’t.” Finn turned and pinned Tim with her gaze. “And don’t let them get away with it.” She pulled a bottle of water from the dorm room fridge and walked back to the couch before she gave him the big lesson of the day. “Anyone lies to you about a target, you kill them. Keep the fee and kill them.”

  Larry looked up. “The word on the street is that if you lie to the KC, you’ve paid for your own funeral.”

  Finn smiled at him. When their eyes met, Tim watched a bottle of wine’s worth of confidences pass between them. Finn broke the gaze and Larry went back to work on the documents.

  “Let’s keep it that way, my son.” She waited for Tim’s nod and then snuggled back into the thick cushions and shut her eyes.

  Tim asked Larry, “So you’re a good guy?”

  Larry glanced up briefly and his grin returned. “Don’t spread it around.”

  Tim picked up a video gamer magazine and read until Larry was done.

  After he finished his work with the knife and laminate, Larry pulled a laptop computer from a combat boot shoebox. He linked up a scanner sitting on the desktop and imported one of Tim’s photos and then each of the documents he’d created.

  After a bit, he cleared his throat and nodded to Finn.

  She stood. Larry stood and came around the desk. Tim belatedly wiggled out of the cushions and got to his feet.

  Larry held a handful of papers out to Tim and asked Finn, “Would you care for an introduction?”

  “Why, thank you,” she replied.

  “Well. Red Logan,” Larry turned from Finn and presented Tim, “I’d like you to meet Red Logan.”

  Finn hugged him. “Happy birthday, my son.”

  Fifteen

  “Don’t look.” Tim held Patrice Coldman tightly against him, burying her head in his muscled chest. “No. No, it’s too awful.”

  The room was in chaos, people scrambling everywhere. Cards lay scattered across the felt table top. When the mayor had started having trouble, roughly clearing his throat and apologizing, Tim had slipped the brown envelope carefully under his stacks of chips which represented the overwhelming majority of funds on the table. They’d just gotten through the first pre-exchange round of betting. Tim knew he’d have to slow play Coldman if he wanted to walk away with everything. And he wanted to walk away with everything. All Coldman wanted was the zoning permit tucked in that inconspicuous yet eco-friendly brown envelope beneath Tim’s chips.

  When the mayor stood to take himself away and stop disturbing the game, Tim had subtly slid to the edge of his chair nearest Coldman. The woman put on a steel front but Tim had been well-trained in the arts of manipulation. He kept all of his focus on her and made sure she noticed. When she bet high, he leaned away, giving her the feeling that he was afraid of her. It was easy to see that she liked frightening Red Logan. She liked frightening anyone. Tim believed it was because she was so very frightened herself all the time.

  Tim was on his feet and rushing around the table just behind Lee when the mayor staggered at the velvet rope. When his head jerked back and his body stiffened, Tim let Lee run on. He stopped to grab Patrice Coldman and hold her tight like the gentlemanly Red Logan would.

  She struggled but he held on, carefully watching as Nancy Burton vaulted the velvet rope. At his side in an instant, she and David Lee lowered the convulsing Sutton to the ground. His skin was sweaty and pale. His eyes had rolled up into the back of his head. And still his thick hair was bouncing like a model’s in a shampoo commercial. Tim marveled at that as Coldman pushed to escape his protection.

  The convulsions stilled when they got him to the ground. He began foaming at the mouth and Nancy rolled him to his side. She checked his vital signs and yelled for someone to call 911.

  Gina held up her sparkly pink phone. “Already done, dear.”

  As if conjured by the glittering bejewels, Jen and Curt swept through the crowd to Mayor Sutton’s side. They quickly drove away all the good Samaritans crowding around to help except for Nancy who only moved far enough away for the EMTs to do their job.

  Tim realized that he had forgotten for a moment to murmur comforting nothings to the woman in his arms. “She’ll be right in no time. There there.”

  He looked around the room to see that most people were clearing out, respecting the EMTs and giving them room to work. On the far side of the table, he spotted Avi and Kissy gesturing urgently to him. He rubbed a hand down Coldman’s back and loosened his grip.

  “How ya going?” He asked, leaning back to look in her beet red face.

  She shook him off, straightening her pantsuit. “This game isn’t over.”

  “No need to go all agro. I’ll take the rest of your money after they find out why your friend’s gone crook.”

  Coldman stared at him for a moment before she spat out, “Learn English.”

  Tim turned his back on her before he gave in to his strong inclination to punch the councilwoman in the face. The mayor was on the ground, fighting for his life and all she cared about was winning. He wasn’t even sure it really was about the zoning permits. If the mayor died and she were elected as she clearly expected to be, she could rescind any permits she liked. No, Tim believed the woman wanted to finish the game because she hated losing.

  He made his way back around the table and over the trampled velvet rope. He walked past Kissy, a hand out to Avi.

  “Officer Kee, good on ya for being here to help,” he said in his Red Logan accent. He led the two over to a service station along one wall that held plastic cups and a water jug.

  “He didn’t do it,” Kissy whispered fiercely before they’d stepped away from the crush of people.

  When they were out of earshot, Avi repeated more rationally, “We’re convinced Mayor Sutton has been set up.”

  Kissy interrupted him. “So whatever you’ve done, go stop it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tim reassured them. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jen’s voice cut through the quiet murmuring around the room. “There’s nothing we can do. The mayor is dead.”

  Sixteen

  “Go,” Tim told Avi. “It’s eight o’ clock. You have to meet the GinNtonix for your performance. We can’t do anything out of the ordinary.” He turned to Kissy. “You go return Mayor Sutton’s house keys to his office. They’ll be shutting everything down soon for an investigation.”

  Kissy whipped around and ran. Too late, she realized Avi had turned to her for a hug or kiss or a moment of regret but she was already racing to the hallway. She didn’t pause. She either had to get the keys back into the center desk drawer or the police would be suspicious. Did Nancy know where Sutton kept his keys? If she couldn’t get into the office, she could circle back and drop them under the poker table as if he’d lost them there.

  She screamed a little when a hand grabbed her elbow.

  Avi leaned down so he didn’t have to yell over the chaos. “We’ve got to get a hold of Armando. Tell him to clear out the stolen dogs.”

  Tim popped up on her other side, “What stolen dogs?”

  “There’s only one stolen dog.” Avi clarified and then turned back to Kissy, “And how do we get a hold of all the others?”

  “Guys!” Kissy looked down the hall where two policemen had stationed themselves outside the double doors to the executive wing.

  “What stolen dog?” Tim insisted, grabbing on to Kissy’s opposite elbow.

  She t
ook a deep breath. “This guy Armando who lived in Parkside rescued a pack of dogs after the fighting ring busts. The mayor is letting he and his dogs and a bunch of other Parksiders live at his place. Nancy said that Coldman got a breeder’s arrest overturned in exchange for a wolfhound-dane-pit mix. This morning, the mayor left his house and returned with Killer. That’s why he was late to the Commissioner’s opening speech.”

  “He stole her dog.” Tim’s eyes sparkled. “I love this guy.”

  “Plus he’s got a couple dozen survivors from the fire bunking down at his place.” Kissy added, her chest constricting. “He was a good guy. We shouldn’t have killed him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tim said. “Return the keys. I’ll call the house and let Armando know the cops might be on their way. All the people staying there will look good for his reputation. But we’ve got to do something about the puppy.” He stared at his satchel, still hanging from Avi’s shoulders as he thought. “Okay, same plan.” He flipped open the bag and rifled through it, pulling out two items which he stowed in the pockets of his shorts. “Avi get to your show. Kissy, there’s a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon on the mayor’s bookshelf. Take that when you dump the keys and then meet me at the game. Go.”

  She began, “Why am I. . .”

  But Tim scooted off through the crowd. Avi held her eyes for another moment, offering to help her but she shook her head.

  “Go,” she repeated.

  Seventeen

  Kissy about faced and made her way through the crowd to the rear exit doors at the end of the council wing. There were no cops stationed at the back of the building yet.

  Kissy took the steps down two at a time and then repeated the speed up the steps behind the executive wing. She pulled out the silver key with a sock monkey head as she ran, hoping it would prove to be a master key that worked on this outside door as well as the mayor’s office. The exit door was propped open. Someone had stuck a small rock between the door and the frame. The door looked closed from any distance but the latch bolt wasn’t seated.

  She pushed the door open as little as she could to slip inside and then carefully settled it against the rock. The dark hall was deserted. Kissy made her way down to the mayor’s office. She slipped the key in the lock and opened the door to find Patrice Coldman holding open a side door near the mayor’s desk. Kissy saw the very clear swish of a woman’s hips walking out. The woman had a hood up over her head, so Kissy couldn’t see anything else of her. Coldman watched as the secret door fell shut and latched behind the mystery woman.

  When shut, the door faded into the wood paneling. If you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t be able to find it.

  Kissy tried to back out of the office but the heavy oak sneaked on its hinges. She immediately looked over at the conference table and pretended she hadn’t seen a thing.

  “Hi, Ms. Coldman. I’m so sorry for your loss. I was just sent to gather any glasses.” Inside her head Kissy screamed at the stupid excuse.

  Coldman held a hand to her chest. “Yes, it’s all so very sad. Rory and I were supposed to meet here for a drink after the game.” She turned and pulled a three-quarters full bottle of bourbon from the bookshelf behind her. “Come. Join me. Then you’ll have some dirty glasses to take back. Wouldn’t want to go back empty handed.”

  Kissy couldn’t think of any way to decline. She fingered the keys in her pocket, eyed the Pappy bottle, and crossed over to Coldman. “I’m the bartender. Let me pour.”

  As she crossed around the far side of the desk, Coldman turned again to the bookshelf to gather a pair of glasses. Kissy swiftly cracked the desk drawer and slid the keys inside. She kicked the desk chair to cover the rattle as the keys settled and when Coldman turned back, Kissy held her hip as though she’d run into the chair.

  “Careful there,” Coldman murmured, looking Kissy up and down.

  Kissy laughed and took the glasses. She felt the councilwoman’s eyes on her as she poured several fingers’ worth into each glass.

  She handed the fuller glass to Coldman. “Does this mean you’ll be mayor now?”

  The woman threw her head back and laughed, nearly choking on her first sip. “No. No, not automatically. Well, temporarily I guess, yes.” She took a deep sip and gazed into Kissy’s eyes. “Would you like that? If I were mayor?”

  Kissy choked back her true answer and responded flirtatiously, “It’s always nice to have a woman in power.”

  She looked down at her glass and took a deep swallow. The bourbon was nice. It was sweet and not as spicy as others she’d had. For a moment it made her forget who she was drinking with and where and she took another drink, holding the woodsy vanilla flavors on her tongue.

  Then Coldman took a step closer and held her glass up for a toast. Kissy swallowed and raised her glass.

  “To powerful women,” Coldman offered.

  In her mind Kissy amended the toast, to the honorable Mayor Sutton.

  She clinked Coldman’s glass and buried her nose in her drink until she got control of the tears rising to her eyes. She looked up to find Councilwoman Coldman gazing at her face.

  “You don’t have to control yourself,” she murmured. “Just let go. I’ll take care of you.”

  She raised a hand and stroked Kissy’s face with the back of her hand. Sliding her fingers sensually along the back of Kissy’s neck, Coldman pulled her in close and whispered in her ear, “Trust me.”

  Kissy felt the little hairs standing up on her arms. Her heart raced and she felt her chest rising and falling as she breathed just a little bit harder. She was extremely disturbed to find that she was a little turned on. And all she could think of was how very much Tim would enjoy seeing her in this position.

  Coldman kissed her neck, her jaw line. She captured Kissy’s eyes and ran a thumb up her cheek to her lips, parting them. She leaned in.

  And Kissy found herself kissing the possible future mayor of the town.

  Eighteen

  When Tim left Avi and Kissy to their tasks, he ran through the halls dodging past people in mourning and people still partying. He dashed out the front doors past police and a few council folks coming in. The word hadn’t spread quickly through the building, but somehow it had leaped physical boundaries to reach the people who mattered.

  Tim grabbed a beer bottle sitting on the stone pillar beside the steps as he vaulted down them, spinning and hollering like the drunk Australian playboy he was supposed to be. Not an hour before he’d been chatting with the mayor on these very steps in sight of god, the universe, and everything.

  The mayor had led him through the most crowded path to the steps. Speaking quietly when he said, “I have to tread carefully with Patrice. She has a dangerous friend.”

  “You mean lover?” Tim joked.

  When Tim pushed for a confidence that Sutton had set the fire, the mayor had told him, “Now we’ll be able to rebuild something nicer, more in keeping with the city I want to live in.”

  Tim thought that was his confession. He’d decided to kill him then.

  The mayor led him up the steps of town hall where a gaggle of drunken citizens were singing like college freshmen. Dozens of people were heading in and out of the building. They stood in the middle of the sea, letting it part around them.

  “It’s funny how one person can completely change your life,” the mayor mused looking out over the square. “I will never forget that woman from twenty years ago. Maybe you’ve run into her in your travels.”

  “Been on walkabout a good long time. What’s her name?” Tim asked.

  The mayor turned and made sure he had Tim’s full attention. A smile quirked at one corner of his mouth but didn’t blossom. “Her name was Red Logan.”

  Tim’s first instinct was to run. He fought it.

  The mayor continued, “Killing me would be a mistake.” He seemed to lose his train of thought for an instant, his brow furrowing as his eyes darted down for an instant. He recovered his unwavering gaze, but his brow
n eyes held a measure of sadness. “Red is. . . My Red is?”

  He couldn’t finish the sentence but Tim understood. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  The mayor took a deep breath and held back a sigh. “Patrice Coldman is your client. Don’t trust your research.”

  Tim finally made a choice. “I don’t,” he said. “And I’d bet your life this lover of hers has made a backup plan.”

  “What are you going to do?” the mayor asked.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Did Red trust you?”

  “She gave me her name.” Tim decided to take a risk. “She gave me all of her names.”

  The mayor recognized the gesture. He replied simply, “I trust you.”

  Tim pulled a small plastic container out of his pocket. It was exactly the size of a dollar fifty’s worth of quarters. He held his hand out to shake the mayor’s hand, slipping him the container and turning him to continue up the stairs. “Take this after you’ve lost.”

  The mayor laughed, “What makes you think I’ll lose?”

  “Because you want to win this game about as much as you want to be Governor,” Tim observed.

  The mayor looked at Tim for a moment, trusting people to clear the way in front of him as they headed through the town halls. “Hoss Davids will make a great governor.”

  Tim put a hand up to hold open one of the double doors leading into the largest conference hall. He looked into the mayor’s honest eyes. “I trust you.”

  Tim now raced down the steps and down the street in his guise as drunken Red Logan. The courthouse next door was dark and locked up tight for the night. Tim darted down a side alley, making as if to boot in the bushes. A gaggle of teenagers giggled at him but a quick peek showed him that they didn’t want to see the actual act. He pulled his skeleton key and was through the side door in moments.

  Dropping the act allowed him to really put on the speed and he raced through the empty hallways listening for any sounds. He found the EMTs kneeling by the rolling gurney just inside a back door. The mayor was still and sweaty but his skin had the rosy glow of life.