Mirror, Mirror

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Thou shalt not mess with gorgeous clients.

  “I’ll be in touch in a couple days,” he told her. “From now on, you don’t need to worry about any of this. Go about your business the way you always do. Above all, don’t change your routine. You have to act as if nothing has changed.”

  She nodded. The uncertainty that flitted across her features before she composed herself was proof she wasn’t as in control of herself as she’d like.

  She stood up and offered her hand, which he took.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air hours after she’d left the small office. Yep, better than those cigars.

  “Dammit!” Dana pounded her steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Anger was something she rarely displayed.

  The last thing she’d wanted to do was hire a private investigator. She didn’t want anyone prying into every corner of her life. She knew this man would do just that, citing it was his job. She knew he wouldn’t find anything scandalous in her background. It was just that she preferred keeping her life private.

  Why did this have to happen to her?

  There was no answer to that question. But she could clearly remember the day it started. The telephone call from Harold Curtis that distressed her. She hadn’t detected even a hint of the warmth she usually associated with the man. During that call, he’d kept a cool distance as he abruptly informed her he would not be renewing his contract with her firm. It took her some time to find out exactly why he was severing a business relationship that had begun with her father more than twenty years ago when her father managed Harold’s first building. Now Curtis was going elsewhere because he claimed to have seen her acting very improperly at a downtown hotel. Harold was an upright conservative citizen who refused to tell her exactly what he’d seen because, as he explained, he didn’t want to think about what he’d seen. No matter how much she protested that it couldn’t have been her, he hadn’t budged an inch. In the end, she’d sadly closed his file.

  She realized there was nothing she could say to convince him that it hadn’t been her. Further, how could she convince someone else he was sadly mistaken when she feared he could be right?

  There had been too many mornings when she’d left for work and discovered her car’s gas tank was registering almost empty, when she was positive it had been more than half-full the night before. And there was the morning she found a nightgown casually thrown on the floor of the closet—a nightgown she knew wasn’t hers. But it was finding the matchbook in her wastebasket that upset her the most. Especially after she drove past the bar in question. There was no way she would have entered such an establishment.

  That was when she knew it was time to do something about it. She knew most women would have discussed their troubles with their friends. Confessed their worries in hopes one of them would have a solution. Except, Dana realized, the friends she had, she’d virtually ignored since her father’s death and then her mother’s stroke. She’d buried herself in her work and pushed them away. All she had were acquaintances and business colleagues in whom she wouldn’t dream of confiding.

  She was completely on her own as she started making discreet inquiries about private investigators. With each inquiry, John McKenna’s name was brought up with the recommendation that if anyone could solve the problem, he could.

  She hadn’t discovered a lot about the man, other than that he was a former police detective. That he’d received many commendations—even if he was known as a cop who didn’t mind flaunting authority if it meant getting the job done the right way. All his arrests were done by the book, and woe to any prosecutor who screwed up one of John McKenna’s cases.

  “You wouldn’t know it to look at him just how successful he is in his work. He’s too committed to helping people who can’t afford his fees and he doesn’t seem to care if his rent gets paid or not,” one person told her. “But I can’t think of anyone else I would want on my side.”

  No one really knew the complete story as to why he finally left the police force and opened his private investigation office. But everyone who recommended him said they would trust him with their life. She knew that that was the highest praise any man would receive.

  She hadn’t expected a private investigator who was so highly regarded to have an office that looked like something straight out of a Raymond Chandler novel. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk. Even the neighborhood was highly suspect. After leaving, she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she found herself in the parking garage of her office building. Security personnel patrolled on a regular basis, magnetized key cards were required for the entrance gate, excellent lighting and cameras were also placed at strategic spots. The knowledge that no one who wasn’t authorized could get in here was a relief to the building’s occupants, who gladly paid the high fees to feel secure.

  Dana didn’t consider herself someone who was easily spooked. She prided herself on allowing nothing to unsettle her.

  Then her life had started to turn itself upside down. Someone was out to get her, and she had no idea who, or why.

  She pulled into her parking space and stopped but didn’t shut off the engine.

  She didn’t want to leave the safety of her car. The walls of the garage seemed to crowd around her, constricting her breathing. That was when she knew she had to get out of there.

  She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and hit the speed dial. The ringing on the other end sounded unusually loud in her ear. Even the sound of her administrative assistant’s voice didn’t calm the shivering deep in her bones.

  She made a decision. “Marti, I need you to cancel my three o’clock appointment with Terence Little.” She spoke crisply. “No, there’s no problem. I just won’t be in for the rest of the day.”

  She wasted no time in backing out of her parking space, and almost raced out of the parking garage. She couldn’t face returning to the office just yet. Right now, she needed fresh air so she could banish the uneasiness clouding her mind.

  She hadn’t expected her meeting with John McKenna to leave her feeling so unsettled. His strong personality seemed to shear through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She didn’t like that.

  She was used to men who dressed in Saville Row suits, not jeans. They were always clean shaven, not sporting a face that had missed a blade for the past few days. Their hair was expensively styled, not hanging in thick strands that looked ready to be shorn like that of a sheep. But one thing John McKenna didn’t lack was self-assurance. The man had enough for an army.

  There was something about him that sent strange feelings through her. He gave her a quivery sensation she’d never encountered before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. His eyes, a misty gray-green color, seemed to look deep within her and ferret out all her secrets. And find her lacking.

  She shouldn’t care what he thought of her. She’d hired him because he had the skills she needed, not because he liked her as a person.

  So why did his opinion of her matter?

  She needed to put such thoughts aside. Ordinarily, she would have driven to her old family home. There, she would have sought the comfort of her mother’s arms. She always knew what to do and say to make her feel better. Except that Alice Madison had been felled by a stroke, and right now, any kind of stress was detrimental to her recovery. Dana couldn’t go there to find her father working or reading in his study. She had always enjoyed the spacious comfortable room where she could curl up in one of the large leather chairs and discuss her problems with him. She reminded herself that she shouldn’t feel the need to tell him her worries. Past experience told her what his advice would have been had he still been alive. He would have told her that she was an adult and she could handle this herself. It hurt that the only way she could talk to her father was to visit his grave.

  The way Dana looked at it, she had no one to turn to. She was used to ha
ndling personal and professional problems on her own. It stung that this time she couldn’t.

  She hoped John McKenna would find out who wanted to make her life so miserable.

  It was dark by the time Dana finally made her way home. She pulled into the garage and looked around as the garage door slid down behind her. She had always considered her home a quiet refuge. A place she could retreat to and renew her energy when her work proved to be too much. Now, even that had been violated. She hesitated as her hand covered the doorknob. She couldn’t find the strength to turn it. Not when she didn’t know what she would find on the other side. The thoughts raced through her mind like dark clouds obscuring the sun.

  Would she find her things moved around?

  At first glance, her kitchen looked the same as it always did. She stopped long enough to leave her packages on the counter and put her groceries away. Even that simple task couldn’t erase the sense that an unauthorized visitor had probably looked through the cabinets.

  “Stop it,” she ordered herself. She picked up the mail Connie, her housekeeper, had left on the counter, and sorted through the envelopes. There was no way she could tell if anyone other than Connie had looked at these.

  Dana turned on all the lights as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Before, she wouldn’t have bothered because she’d never felt afraid to be alone in her home. Now, she didn’t feel safe unless lights were blazing in just about every room—just as she couldn’t stop silently asking herself if someone had come in here between the time Connie had left and Dana had arrived.

  Dana pretended her life was absurdly normal as she hung up her dry cleaning and changed into a robe. She had no appetite, but since she hadn’t eaten much for lunch she warmed up the casserole Connie had left for her.

  While the food was excellent as always, she ate little. Keeping up her self-imposed charade of spending a quiet evening at home, she curled up on the couch and watched the news. Watching people whose lives were in worse shape than hers helped her get things in perspective: her life wasn’t all that bad, after all. She knew it didn’t make for an exciting evening, but she didn’t care. The last thing she needed was anything to upset the balance she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  She kept up her pretense as she called her family home to speak to her mother’s nurse. The woman’s report that Alice Madison had had a restless afternoon left Dana wishing she could do other than provide excellent medical care for her mother. She’d hoped she would feel assured she was doing everything she could. She informed the nurse she would be out to see Alice the next day.

  Dana usually prided herself on not imagining sounds that weren’t there or fearing there was someone lurking just outside her property line. She’d always considered herself a brave woman who met life head-on. Her father had brought her up that way. But now she prayed John McKenna would do what she couldn’t.

  Dana took a pre-bedtime glass of wine into her bedroom and settled in bed with her drink and a book. The thought that her new watchdog wasn’t far away eased her mind in a way she hadn’t felt in some time. After reading a few pages, she set her book on the nightstand before she fell into a deep sleep.

  If anyone entered her house, she was sleeping too heavily to notice.

  Mac had the seat back as far as it would go so he could stretch out his legs. Stakeouts used to be his least favorite activity, since department-issued cars didn’t provide enough room for a tall man. The first thing he did when he set up on his own was make sure he had a vehicle, an Explorer, that wouldn’t give him that problem.

  Since he’d promised Dana Madison prompt service, he hadn’t wasted any time before driving over to her office building. What he hadn’t expected was to see her car shoot out of the parking garage like a bat out of hell. He told himself it was a good thing he hadn’t waited until evening to keep tabs on her. He kept his distance as he followed her, while she performed fairly normal errands before driving to her house. He noticed that while she smiled at whomever she dealt with, there was still a hint of tension tightening her features. Something bothered the lady, all right.

  He studied his surroundings—at least what he could see beyond the streetlights. Dana Madison lived in an upscale neighborhood where he guessed the residents paid a hefty price for woodsy areas that might have looked as if they’d been there for years, but were only a part of the developer’s designs. Each home was set back from the road with a lush lawn rolling before it. Discreetly placed signs in the woods indicated paths set aside for walkers and joggers. He guessed it gave the homeowners the feeling they lived in an rural area. As a security expert, all he could see was that the surroundings were heaven sent for burglars who could sneak in from those well kept woods and then get out before anyone knew what was going on.

  He’d bet the streets were busy during the day with gardening crews who kept the lawns and shrubbery a rich green. He wouldn’t be surprised if a few nosy neighbors checked out any unknown cars loitering in the area. He’d learned long ago that people who kept themselves abreast of what went on with their neighbors made his job a little easier. He didn’t worry about his position that night since this side street didn’t have any houses nearby, just the woods. From here, he could easily watch Dana’s house and not worry about being seen by neighbors.

  His musings were interrupted by a low growl coming from the back seat.

  “Again?” he muttered, looking over his shoulder. “It’s only been ten minutes since the last time. It’s a good thing those rent-a-cops don’t drive past as often as our client thought they did. Of course, what’s so dangerous about a guy walking his dog, right?”

  A massive black-and-white head lifted upward and propped itself on the seat’s headrest. A broad muzzle bumped the back of Mac’s head in a canine demand for attention.

  “Okay, okay.” Mac dug a beefy dog biscuit out of a small plastic bucket he kept on the floor of the passenger side and tossed it over his shoulder.

  The dog’s jaws snapped open long enough to catch the treat. It was devoured in one bite.

  “You may work cheap, Duffy, but you sure don’t make it easy,” Mac told the St. Bernard, who was happily drooling all over the blanket draped over the seat to keep it relatively fur free.

  Mac had just shifted his position when he noticed Dana’s garage door gliding upward. He checked his watch. It was just a little after midnight. Two minutes later, her spiffy Jaguar convertible backed down the driveway and out onto the street.

  “My guess would be you’re not going out for milk,” he muttered, starting up the engine.

  Five hours later, Mac was back on the side street near Dana’s house. He watched as she drove her car into the garage. Within moments, lights winked out and all was quiet.

  He muttered a few choice curses. When she’d said she wanted him to follow her he’d had no idea just where her request would take him. Now he had the task of figuring out how to word his report in a way that wouldn’t sound downright insulting to the lady.

  How do you tell your client that when it turns dark, she turns into a major party girl? And not just any party girl, either. This one hit some pretty heavy-duty clubs and didn’t seem to mind whom she spent her time with. She even cruised a few of the sleazier motels he didn’t think he’d even heard of when he worked vice many years ago.

  He spent the night feeling as if he’d entered one of those weird films that tried to disguise itself as art.

  Except this wasn’t a movie, and there was no way he could call what had gone on any kind of art. He wasn’t looking forward to giving this particular report.

  He reminded himself that what he’d seen wasn’t anything new. Just because Dana Madison looked the part of a nicely dressed, corporate type, didn’t mean there wasn’t a wild side that came out after dark. He’d seen proof of that wild side tonight. Few things surprised him anymore. His years with the police department carved that out of him in no time. But after his meeting with Dana Madison the previous day, he hadn’t expecte
d the reckless behavior he’d witnessed the past five hours.

  “What’s wrong with this picture, Duff?” he said out loud. “Do you think she’s doing all this for kicks? Do you think she decided to go one step further and find a PI to follow her and watch what she does? Maybe she likes to be watched. Do you think she’s sleepwalking? Has a split personality? Any of those sound good to you?”

  A contented doggie snore was his answer.

  Mac sighed and hunched down in the seat. Even though he doubted his client would be going anywhere until it was time for her to leave for her office, he didn’t dare catch a nap. He’d do that later. He’d have plenty of time to sleep after his newest client received his report—and, in all probability, fired him. He swallowed a yawn. At least his retainer paid up the rent and office utilities.

  Please God, no. She just couldn’t handle a migraine first thing in the morning.

  Dana fumbled with the prescription pill bottle and finally managed to get it open. She tossed two tablets in her mouth, followed by a healthy swallow of water.

  Here she thought she’d slept so well, yet she woke up feeling fuzzy-headed and out of sorts. After she’d gotten up, she’d started to feel the stabbing pain in her head and had feared the worst. If the old-fashioned work ethic hadn’t been drummed into her from a young age, she would have called in sick and pulled the covers over her head.

  Her sense of feeling out-of-it intensified when she went downstairs. She knew immediately that something was wrong. There was the faint hint of cigarette smoke in her kitchen that she knew hadn’t been there the night before. She told herself it had to be her imagination, since she didn’t smoke and her housekeeper was allergic to cigarette smoke.