Chaos, Desire & a Kick-Ass Cupcake

by Kyra Davis

  “Wow. That’s so Mission Impossible.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, kind of. She was also using her mom’s Zipcar account although she wasn’t an authorized user. But I guess if you’re planning homicides, abiding by the user agreement for Zipcar isn’t really your number one concern.”

  “Wow,” Charity whispered for about the eleventh time. “Well…thank you for sharing this?” she said uncertainly. “I can’t believe someone I knew was murdered. He was a dick but…wow.” She handed me back the newspaper. “I’ll tell Gundrun. I really have to get into work now—“

  I put my hand on her arm. “Don’t go into work today.”

  She looked at me askance. “I can’t just play hooky. Gun will be in there any minute now--

  “He walked in two minutes ago,” I said, quietly. “I saw him.”

  “What?” She exclaimed and then immediately reached for the handle of her door. “Oh God, he’s going to be pissed.”

  But I kept my hand on her arm, holding her firmly. “Charity one of the drugs that Cat poisoned her dad with was Sobexsol.”

  “What?” she turned back to me. “But…she couldn’t have. She doesn’t have access.”

  “She shouldn’t have had access. But London apparently had lots and lots of it in his medicine cabinet.”

  “He stole drugs from the lab!” She sounded almost awed now. “Do you have any idea how illegal that is? Oh my God, when Gun finds out…”

  “Gun knew,” I said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Cat told the police that she overheard her dad on the phone with Gun, talking about how after three years on Sobexsol Anne started having suicidal thoughts, intense anxiety and whatnot.”

  “But the clinical trials started less than one year ago.”

  “Exactly,” I said with a sigh. “She was taking the drugs before it was even supposed to be tested on humans. You’re the one who told me Gun and London used to be friends years ago. The police think Gun let London give the drugs to Anne as a favor, and maybe to help get early data that would help them further develop and perfect the drug. The FDA was dragging its feet on its approval.”

  Charity just stared at me, then shook her head. “You’re taking the word of a murderous child.”

  “Yeah, I am,” I admitted. “And under normal circumstances, I’d say that was ill advised. But why would she lie about this? Cat didn’t think there was anything wrong with Anne being on a clinical trial. She didn’t know Anne wasn’t allowed to have those drugs. And the thing is…I think the long-term side effects of Sobexsol are…problematic. I think it may cause some level of psychosis…or at the very least severe depression. Those people who are taking the drug now in the approved trials? They could be in trouble. Gun should be stopping the study. But instead he sold the company. He’s planning on taking his share of the profits from the sale and getting out before things go down hill.”

  Charity blinked and then looked down at the paper again. “And the cops…you said the cops believe this too?”

  “Well, not exactly the cops. The Feds.”

  “The Feds!”

  Charity looked across the street at the Nolan-Volz office. “This is too crazy for me.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. “At first I thought that London’s murder might be part of some grand conspiracy but there was no conspiracy. Just an accumulation of lies and misdeeds by a bunch of different actors that unwittingly came together to form a big, giant mess. Maybe that’s what most conspiracies are, you know?”

  Charity gave me a weird look. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to know all this. I just want to keep my head down and got to work.”

  “Charity, I like you,” I said, sincerely. “Marcus likes you too. And you really helped me out whether you knew it or not. That’s why I’m trying to help you out by telling you not to go into work today.”

  “Because why?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Because that.” I pointed out the window just three, no five, no eight, black sedans pulled up in front of Nolan-Volz along with four black vans. Men wearing jackets that said, FBI started pouring out of them and going into the building.

  “The place where you work is being raided by the FBI. It’s a good day to call in sick.”

  “Stalkers all over the world should be on their knees, thanking Facebook for giving them legitimacy.”

  --Dying To Laugh

  “You’ve been distracted lately,” I said as Anatoly sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes.

  He looked up, bemused and let his eyes roam over the tussled bed sheets. “I assure you, you had my full attention.” He then reached forward and put his hand under my chin, guiding my face toward him. “Are you complaining?”

  I smiled as I brushed my lips against his. “No, you weren’t distracted for that. You’re never distracted for that.”

  “I aim to please.” He went back to putting on his shoes.

  “Still,” I noted, “when we’re not making love, you’ve been distracted. And you’ve been acting…I don’t know, just kind of weird.”

  “You’re imagining things,” he said as he got to his feet before adding, “again.” I watched as he retrieved his shirt from where I had thrown it on the floor. He had already been at work today and now, at nine-thirty at night, he had to go in again. Such is the life of a private detective. “I think this will be the last stake-out I’ll have to do in a while,” he noted. “After tonight I’ll be able to provide my client with more than enough evidence to prove that the guy they’re paying workman’s comp to isn’t really injured. Still, it may be a late night. Set the alarm after I leave.”

  “See, that’s what I mean.” I sat up and pulled the sheet over my chest as I leaned against the headboard. Mr. Katz was sitting next to Ms. Dogz on the floor, proving all prejudices can be overcome with time and exposure. “It’s been two weeks since Cat’s been arrested. Why are you still so intent on having the alarm on whenever I’m home alone?”

  “It’s just a smart idea,” he said, vaguely.

  “Something’s going on,” I pressed.

  He sighed and then leaned over and gave me a more lingering kiss. “Everything’s fine. I’m simply protecting what I love.”

  “Anatoly—”

  “How many pages did you write today?” he asked as he pulled on his jacket.

  “Twenty three,” I said with a smile. “If this keeps up I’ll have it all wrapped up by the end of next month.” I cocked my head to the side. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He put his finger to my lips. “I’m not telling.”

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “Because,” he said, leaning over and giving me one last kiss on the forehead, “you like secrets.”

  “Anatoly,” I said again, but this time I was interrupted by my phone dinging with a text message. I picked it up from my nightstand. It was a multimedia message sent to both Dena and me from Mary Ann. I looked at the picture and gasped.

  “What is it?” Anatoly asked, pausing on his way to the door.

  I held it up. “It’s a pregnancy test,” I whispered. “It’s Mary Ann’s pregnancy test!” I leaped out of bed and started jumping up and down. “She’s pregnant, she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant.”

  “Wow,” Anatoly said appreciatively. I stopped and looked down at myself, realizing only then that I had been jumping up and down while completely naked.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I said grabbing my robe and quickly pulling it on. “I have to call Mary Ann! Oh my God, I’m going to be an aunt!”

  “You already are an aunt,” Anatoly noted. “You’re sister has a son.”

  “Oh, right.” I immediately checked myself. “Jack. I do love my nephew Jack. Very much. He’s…he’s got that Tasmanian Devil vibe going for him and…um…well…”

  Anatoly laughed and shook his head. “You don’t have to explain Jack to me. Give Mary Ann my congratulations and remember to
set the alarm.”

  I dropped down on the edge of the bed again and stared at the picture as Anatoly made his exit. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from those two beautiful blue lines.

  As I heard the front door open and close I looked over to Mr. Katz and Ms. Dogz. “This requires champagne.”

  The fact that there was no one there to share it with me didn’t really matter. I got up and sort of skipped out of the room. I would pop a bottle of champagne, pour it in a glass and then call Mary Ann up to toast her over the phone.

  She was pregnant!

  Ms. Dogz tailed after me, down the stairs, through the living room and into the foyer on our way to the dining room and kitchen…

  …except once she reached the foyer she stopped.

  I turned to see what was up and saw her staring at the door.

  And then she growled.

  Seriously? Weren’t we done with all that?”

  “Huh.” I pressed my face against the window. The porch light was already on but I couldn’t see anyone. I looked down at Ms. Dogz. “I really don’t think there’s anything out there.”

  When she looked unconvinced, I sighed and cracked open the door. I still couldn’t see anyone so I opened it all the way and stepped outside. She followed me, taking a few steps out, sniffing the air.

  “See? There’s no one here,” I said, turning around…

  …to see the note taped to my door.

  I froze. The words were very simple, very clear.

  Miss me?

  But Anatoly had just been here. Which meant that someone must have put the note on my door not minutes ago, but seconds ago.

  Ms. Dogz started barking and I whipped around.

  Standing in my walkway was a tall man wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt and...a black baseball cap.

  I froze, my eyes wide. The man’s head was down. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he looked up.

  Alex Kinsky stood before me, his green eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

  I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t even find my voice.

  He reached into his pocket and took out a few dog treats, which he tossed to my bodyguard. Ms. Dogz sniffed them and then gobbled them up.

  “You’re not very good at heading warnings,” he said, leaning back on his heels, folding his strong arms casually across his chest. I could see burn wounds on his neck. Reminders of the fire we had both escaped.

  “The note?” I whispered.

  “And the underlined headline.”

  “What…the article about the body they found in the park…” but I didn’t finish my sentence. I was just completely unprepared for this encounter.

  “I need your help, Sophie,” he said, with a lazy smile. “And I think you need mine.”

  “I don’t need anything from you,” I said. “You need to leave.”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong on your first point. However I understand if you don’t want to talk here, in the privacy of your home, in the middle of the night.” The way he said privacy of your home made the words sound suggestive and borderline inappropriate. “We can arrange to meet tomorrow in a more public setting if you’d prefer. But before we make those arrangements, why don’t you answer my first question?”

  “Your first question?” I repeated.

  “Yes.” He took his cap off, revealing his strawberry blond hair, which he ran his fingers through before reaching into his pocket and tossing a few more treats to the dog. He then took a few steps forward, a quiet smile on his face. “Did you miss me, Sophie?”

  I stared at him, then down at the dog. My life would never be boring. There would always be danger and chaos. Sometimes it would come in the form of a whacked-out teenager and sometimes it would come from a former mafia associate. But it would always come.

  And then I found myself smiling back. “Meet me in Union Square, tomorrow by the Macy’s Christmas tree at five pm.”

  “You’re not answering my question,” he pressed taking another small step.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and put my hand gently on Ms. Dogz head. “I don’t know if it’s fair to say I missed you,” I admitted. “But…” I hesitated a moment, causing Alex’s smile to get a little bigger, his eyes a little brighter..

  “But?” he asked.

  “But,” I said again, “I’ll admit, I can’t wait to find out why you’re here.” I ushered Ms. Dogz inside and quickly closed the door, locking Alex out. I would set the alarm and get out my gun, just in case he got any ideas.

  My next adventure was about to begin.

  Kyra Davis is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sophie Katz Mystery series and the Just One Night series, The Pure Sin series, and the stand-alone novel, So Much For My Happy Ending. Her books have been translated and published in seventeen different countries. After spending the majority of her life in the Bay Area, Davis now lives in Los Angeles County with her husband, son, fabulous dogs, and an endearing but occasionally moody leopard gecko.

  Find out more about Kyra Davis and her books at www.kyradavis.com