Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by C. Mack Lewis

  Jack said, “Have you ever heard of – The Sugar Shack?”

  Viv froze, the color draining from her face.

  “I came into possession of a photograph that I plan to publish with the article and – my gosh! If you aren’t a dead ringer for one of the – ” Jack made air quotes, “Unnamed dancers.”

  The corner of Vivian’s eye twitched.

  “You could be the same person!” Jack said.

  Vivian cleared her throat, “Mr…”

  “Nate.”

  “Nate. Would you care to join me for breakfast tomorrow? At my villa.”

  “De-lighted!”

  Viv pulled a card from her purse.

  Heather, sullen and staring at the ground, walked up to them.

  “Nate, this is one of our best girls. Mr. Hawthorkin, Heather. Heather, this is Mr. Hawthorkin.”

  Heather nodded but did not meet his eyes.

  Vivian said, “What do you say, Heather?”

  “Nice to meet you,” Heather murmured, holding out her hand. She gave Jack a wilting handshake and wiped her hand on her dress.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jack said, eyeing Vivian, who had a gleam in her eyes that was causing a prickly sensation down his spine.

  “Nine o’clock?” Vivian said to Jack as she made a final reach for the check.

  Jack absentmindedly tucked the check into his pocket. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’ll have my CPA print a nicer check and I’ll have it for you in the morning.”

  Viv opened her mouth to protest, but Jack pretended like he spotted someone and, with a wave, he was gone. Jack spotted Enid and gestured for her to follow him.

  In the parking lot, Enid hurried to keep up as she breathlessly asked, “What’d you say to that woman? She about sprinted after you when you took off.”

  “Hurry up,” Jack said, glancing behind him. “If we don’t hightail it, she might fender-hop us.”

  “Why? What’d you do?”

  “I like to get while the getting is good.”

  Driving down Camelback Road, Jack breathed a sigh of relief and said, “What’d you find out?”

  “You met Heather?” Enid said.

  Jack glanced at her in surprise. He hadn’t really expected her to find out anything. He’d given her the assignment simply to keep him out of his hair.

  “Heather tried to kill Mrs. Hargrove,” Enid said matter-of-factly.

  Jack gaped at her. “Vivian Hargrove?”

  “Total b-i-t-c-h, by the way. One of the girls wants to boil her in pee.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “They said being at the girls’ school is like being in h-e-double-hockey-sticks. They hate her. Big-time.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “Told them I was a wayward girl checking in tomorrow,” Enid said with pride.

  “Really?” Jack said thoughtfully.

  “Sounds worse than jail,” Enid said.

  Jack stared at the road leading them back to his house. An idea was forming, but his gut told him it was – sketchy.

  “Did you like working undercover?” Jack said.

  “Yeah, sure,” Enid shrugged.

  “How do you feel about – working undercover – at the home?”

  Enid’s head snapped in his direction, her mouth dropping open in astonishment.

  Jack said, “Tomorrow only. You can check in as a wayward girl, spend the day there, find out what you can and I’ll get you out of there before the day is over.”

  “So, you’re willing to use me – as bait – in a place I just described as h-e-you-know-what?”

  “If it’s all right with you.”

  Enid stayed silent for several seconds. “How much?”

  “How much what?”

  “You don’t work for free, do you?”

  Jack shot her a look, “It’s not work – it’s bonding.”

  “I bond better with cash.”

  Jack rolled his eyes.

  “You’d be paying for my time and my expertise,” Enid said haughtily.

  “What expertise?”

  “Forget it.” Enid shrugged, “Obviously, the need for my expertise is not that important to your case.”

  “Considering you’re the one who ratcheted down my price with all your ‘student-discount-payment-plan’ garbage…!”

  Enid tossed her head in defiance.

  “Do I look like I’m rolling in green?” Jack said.

  “Fifty bucks,” Enid said, crossing her arms. “And I want some new clothes.”

  “Twenty-five and we stop at Target.”

  “Fifty dollars and we go to the Mall.”

  Jack drove for several minutes in silence.

  “And no bonding!” Enid said.

  Jack made a face. “Fifty dollars, Target – no bonding. It’s a deal.”

  “You promise to get me before lights-out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Say: I promise to get you out of that place before the lights go out.”

  “Why do women always want promises?” Jack exclaimed in exasperation.

  “Because we know what we’re dealing with!” Enid said. “Promise.”

  Jack sighed. “I promise to get you out before the lights go out.”

  Enid nodded, satisfied. She pointed to an upcoming Dairy Queen, “Blizzard!”

  Jack flipped on the turn signal, “You drive a hard bargain.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Beware of the man that does not talk and the dog that does not bark.

  –Cheyenne

  “My father died of a massive heart attack,” Jenson said to Bud, smiling pleasantly. “If they had had all this high-tech medical do-dad-er-ee back then, my father would be alive, kicking – and up to his eyeballs in dames.”

  Lying in his hospital bed, Bud frowned at Jenson, who had set down a “get well” African violet on the window sill. Jenson wore a mint green bowling shirt, grey slacks and – Bud had to ask, “Are those spats?”

  Jenson stuck one foot out. “Lovely, aren’t they? I wouldn’t dare wear them to work, but I thought they had a certain je ne sais quoi that you might appreciate.”

  Bud grunted, a half laugh.

  “I heard your son got a social call from our prime suspect.”

  Bud scowled.

  Jenson smiled gently. “There was even talk of them going on – a date?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Might want to verify that with the kid, Bud.”

  Bud shot him a look.

  Jenson made a face, shrugged. “I didn’t make detective grade based on my fashion sense. Word is, Chip shared dirty martinis at Durant’s with our fave femme fatale, Eve Hargrove.”

  “Do you know Jack Fox?” Bud said, abruptly.

  “Never met him, but I’ve heard the stories – the one about when he was a kid at his father’s funeral. Gads! Gives me the willies, just thinking of it.”

  “Jeni Hargrove hired him to find her biological mother.”

  Jenson looked at Bud, startled.

  “Turns out, Vivian Hargrove ‘adopted’ Jeni when she was a baby, but never did any official paperwork. Jeni hired Jack to find her biological mother.”

  “How did we not turn that up in our investigation?”

  “Makes me wonder about the other sister.”

  “Paler-than-paint Laura,” Jenson murmured. “She’s my nominee for most likely to harken from another pool of DNA. Those three sisters are as different as the seasons.”

  “I want to talk to Jack Fox – find out if – ”

  “You’re on leave. And a long leave at that.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” Bud said sharply.

  “Oh.” Jenson stood up, smiling like a cherub. “Perhaps, you haven’t heard…?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Bunnie was kind enough to put in for a six-week leave while you recuperate.”

  “What!” Bud sa
t bolt upright, alarmed.

  “In her defense, I think she’s spot-on. You need time to recuperate. You know who lives the longest, Bud? Hypochondriacs. They’re always running off to the doctor to get things fixed before anything even breaks down. It won’t kill you to take six weeks, but it may kill you not to take the six weeks.”

  Bud glowered at Jenson, who gave him a jaunty wave. “Must go. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  Jenson left and Bud reached for the phone, intent on having it out with Bunnie.

  “Bud?”

  Bud looked up and was startled to see Frank Ficus’s bulky figure in the doorway. Frank was sweating and shifting nervously from one giant flat foot to the other as he eyed the monitors hooked up to Bud.

  Bud clicked the phone off.

  “I – uh…” Frank’s eyes were glued on the electronic green line that beeped with Bud’s heartbeat.

  “Hi, Frank. What are you doing here?”

  Frank moved toward the chair, gingerly edging his bulky frame into it.

  “Don’t like hospitals?” Bud said.

  Frank grunted.

  “Tell me about it,” Bud said.

  “When are you getting out?” Frank said tentatively.

  It was strange to see the big man nervous as a cat. His eyes were on a constant prowl around the room, like a cootie was going to jump out and turn him into the patient.

  “Not sure,” Bud said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, distractedly.

  “How’s the private eye business treating you?” Bud said, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

  “Same old, same old – you know,” Frank mumbled, rubbing his hands together.

  Bud sighed. Frank had never been known for his scintillating conversation. During the ten years they worked together as police officers on the beat, Bud couldn’t remember talking about anything more than the weather, sports or work. Bud decided the best tack was to wait for Frank to pipe up on his own.

  After several moment, Frank said, “I heard they got a positive I.D. on Daniel Hargrove’s body.”

  Bud nodded.

  Frank said, “I heard the daughter, Eve Hargrove, came around the station – asking for me?”

  “Yeah. What was that about?”

  “You don’t know?” Frank said, surprised.

  “Why would I know?”

  Frank contemplated this.

  “How do you know her?” Bud said.

  Frank abruptly stood up.

  A subtle instinct tickled at Bud’s brain. He casually threw out, “Didn’t you used to work with Jack Fox?”

  Frank started like Bud threw a firecracker.

  Bud sat up. “Frank…!”

  “Hope you feel better,” Frank blurted out and darted from the room.

  Bud tried to get out of bed, but was pulled back by the multitude of wires that stretched between him and the monitors. Bud stared in frustration at his surroundings – he wanted nothing more then to run down Frank and make him talk.

  The monitors blinked and beeped at him. A wave of depression swept over him. He got back into bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Yes, yes,” said the Beast, “my heart is good, but still I am a monster.”

  “Among mankind,” says Beauty, “there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.”

  –Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont

  Enid sat at Jack’s kitchen table, glaring up at him as she said, “A little privacy, please.”

  Jack crossed his arms. “Dial.”

  Enid held out the cell, smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you talk to my mother?”

  Jack threw up his hands and retreated to the safety of the living room.

  Enid sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to her mother, but she and Jack had made a deal. If she got permission from her mother, then she could stay longer. What “longer” meant, both she and Jack had carefully avoided discussing. She took a deep breath and dialed. It rang twice. Her mother’s voice, smoky with drink, answered.

  “Yel-lo?

  “Hi mom.”

  Her mother’s ear-splitting screech pierced through the phone. “Where the hell have you been?!”

  “I’m fine. I – ”

  “I been thinking you’re hacked up and dead in a ditch – or murdered! You disappear and not call? Where the hell are you?”

  “Arizona.”

  “Ari-what-the-freak-a-zona are you doing out there?”

  “I’m with – Jack Fox.”

  Dead silence.

  “Mom? You there?”

  “How…?”

  “You told me.”

  There was a long silence. “Does he remember me?” Enid was surprised at the childish break in her mother’s voice.

  Enid made a face, “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’re coming home!”

  “He said it’s all right – can I stay? Just a little longer…?”

  “You sure as hell didn’t think to ask my permission before you disappeared!”

  “I left a letter.”

  “You took all my cash!”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “The hell you will – you’re coming home. I’ll give you my credit card number – I want you back no later than tomorrow!”

  “Why?”

  “Whaddya mean ‘why’?”

  “I mean, why do you want me back? You don’t pay any attention to me – I know you wish I was never born!”

  At the silence on the other end of the line, Enid’s skin prickled with fear – maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t know if her mother wished she never been born, but it felt like that.

  Jack appeared out of nowhere, took the cell from her.

  He walked into the other room where Enid could hear him talking to her mother. He sounded like a rational adult – not like the jerk that’d been hassling her since she arrived. She bit her nails and curled her legs under her, listening to his voice, which was more soothing than she ever imagined it could be.

  Within twenty minutes, he had permission for her to stay for three more days. Jack handed her the phone and Enid mumbled a goodbye, and then realized that her mother had hung up.

  The next morning, after insisting that going “undercover” was no big deal and, in fact, a really cool adventure, Enid began to regret not letting Jack talk her out of it. He had tried to talk her out of it, but she had insisted that she could do it – and wanted to do it.

  Why am I doing this?

  Walking toward the two-story brick building, Enid felt her stomach twisting with nausea. What seemed like an adventure was becoming reality – and she didn’t like it.

  Enid glanced behind her, but Jack’s car was nowhere to be seen. She concentrated on the reassuring bulge of the disposable cell phone hidden in her sock. Jack bought it at Circle K before he dropped her off and he promised he would be waiting for her at their meet-up spot at six o’clock that night.

  He better!

  Enid paused as if waiting for a sign from the universe to turn and run.

  I must be crazy…

  What kind of father was he anyway? Sending his daughter undercover where, for all he knew, she was going to be kidnapped, tortured and buried in some dank basement by an ax-wielding clown! Feeling the panic rising within her, she did an about-face and started planning her story about why she couldn’t do it.

  “Enid!” A girl’s voice called.

  Startled, Enid stopped and saw Tweaker walking a fluffy handful of a dog on a leash.

  “That yours?” Enid called out.

  “Nah. Pooper-scooper witch-detail. You checking in?” Tweaker stopped in front of her.

  Enid bent to pet the dog, which went into a yapping frenzy.

  Tweaker yanked the leash, which sent the tiny dog flying backwards. “Don’t trust her. She’ll take your fing
ers off. She’s not what she appears.”

  “She doesn’t look big enough to poop out a finger – much less eat one.”

  “She’s like a python. Stretches.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Tootles. But we call her Little Bitch.”

  “Why do they call you Tweaker?”

  “My mom.”

  Enid nodded, pretending to understand.

  “You smoke?” Tweaker asked.

  Enid shook her head.

  Tweaker covertly pulled a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket. She lit up, took a drag and offered it to Enid, who shook her head politely.

  Enid said, “Is it really that bad here?”

  Tweaker shrugged. “No worse than where I came from – just different.”

  “How?”

  A bell clanged. Tweaker stubbed the cigarette on the bottom of her shoe and slid it back in her pocket.

  “Come on,” Tweaker grabbed Enid’s arm and dragged her toward the building. The dog yapped and lunged for Enid’s ankles, but Tweaker gave the leash a tug that sent the dog tumbling backwards again.

  Enid hurried to keep up with Tweaker, who led her through the front entrance. A sign above it read: And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity (I Corinthians 13:13).

  Tweaker nodded toward a door inscribed “Office” and whispered, “We’ll find you – after.”

  Enid watched as Tweaker dragged the yapping dog down the echoing hallway. Enid glanced back at the entrance, itching to head out.

  I can leave right now.

  Vivian Hargrove walked out of the office and ran into Enid.

  “So sorry,” Vivian said, placing a hand on Enid’s arm. “Oh, you’re new? Checking in?”

  Enid felt a childish urge to turn and run as fast as she was able.

  Vivian smiled reassuringly, her hand clamping down as she guided her into the office, “Did you come alone or did someone drop you off?”

  The office was sparely furnished. Its only decorative touch was a series of framed motivational pictures.

  “Alone,” Enid mumbled.

  “Mrs. Hobbs, we have a new girl.” Vivian gave Enid a nudge toward the desk.

  Mrs. Hobbs looked up, frowning.

  Enid wrinkled her nose at the sickeningly sweet perfume that permeated the room and seemed to have Mrs. Hobbs as a nucleus.