by E A Price
“And what did he tell you?”
“Nothing,” she said brightly, “he was dead. He’d been stabbed.” She smiled, and he frowned.
“And you think the weasel did it?”
Judy inched towards him, sitting on the edge of her seat, ignoring the fart noises completely in her exuberance. “Mullins was an alarm expert, and I don’t believe that the weasel would know how to sort out Jackson’s alarm without help. So I think they committed the robbery together, then the weasel killed Mullins, and now I think he’s trying to get rid of the eggs. Which is not exactly easy given how rare they are.”
Gerry drummed his fingers on his desk. “And what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, after Mullins skipped town no one had any idea where he went, but his mother lives here in Los Lobos, and although she told me point blank he isn’t here, I think she’s lying. She lives alone and I saw men’s ah… undergarments on her washing line.”
“Maybe she has a boyfriend.”
Her bunny tried not to choke at the thought of the miserable old weasel getting down and dirty with a male. “I don’t think so, I watched the house for three days, and no one but her came in and out of there.” Evil female even terrified door-to-door sales people into steering clear of her.
“So you haven’t actually seen him going in and out either?”
“No, but he could have a secret entrance.”
He looked amused. “Really?”
“Or he could just be going in and out as his weasel - I can’t watch all the entrances at once.” She’d tried running around the house, but that got old fast.
“So what exactly do you want?”
“If he did it, technically it is the SEA’s responsibility. And my company would like the eggs retrieved rather than have to pay out the insurance claim. I’d like some help getting them back and getting him.”
He shrugged. “Why not have other investigators help you?”
Her bunny pricked up her ears in worry. “Well, umm, we’re stretched really thin right now.”
“So you were sent to ask for help?”
Her bunny started chittering at the lie. “Yep.”
Gerry smiled, and it wasn’t at all comforting. He stood up and walked slowly around the desk like he was stalking her. She covered her nose so he couldn’t see it twitch.
“See here’s the thing. You work in Playa Lunar, which means you work for Sy Thompson.”
Her bunny started hyperventilating. “Yep.”
“And I used to work with Sy Thompson, and he doesn’t ask for help. And he doesn’t ask me for help. See we had a bit of a rivalry back in the day, and he hates me - with a passion. He would rather quietly pay out the insurance claim than ask me for help.”
“Ah…” Her palms started sweating, and she moved in the chair, making it fart again. Her bunny was all for hopping out of there.
“Are you actually an investigator?” His eyes narrowed to slits and her bunny yelped at her to tell him everything she knew.
She sighed. “Technically yes, but after Sy took over the department, I became his assistant. I bring him his coffee and answer his phone.” And pick up his dry cleaning and run home in the middle of the day to make sure his poofy dog does his business. The degrading list of jobs was endless.
“I see. And where does he think you are right now?”
“On vacation, which is technically true.” She spread out her hands. “Lots of people come here for a holiday.”
“Most don’t spend it staking out weasels.”
True, the beaches tended to be a bigger draw.
“Are you going to tell Sy about this?”
He paused for a moment and then spoke slowly and deliberately. “As far as I can see, you are merely a civilian reporting a potential theft and murder. And I would rather they not go unpunished. I see no reason why I need to report any SEA business to Mr. Thompson – another civilian. I can perhaps spare an agent to help you, but without the case being officially referred to me by Playa Lunar PD, I can’t put an entire team on it. You can consider yourself to be a civilian consultant for the next week.”
She was a little disappointed they weren’t going all out to get the weasel – she had envisioned storming his house and displaying a few of the kung fu moves she’d been perfecting in front of her bathroom mirror, but, at least, it wasn’t a no.
“I’m grateful for whatever help I can get.”
“Good, I think I have just the man for the job.”
*
Mason’s left eye twitched. Every groan Larry the zombie made scraped across his last nerve. His inner gorilla rumbled in annoyance. He’d thought looking at him was bad, and smelling him, and being near him, but no, listening was somehow worse.
He’d been in the director’s bad books ever since an incident on Valentine’s Day involving a very inept cupid. Mason was still kicking himself over it. He’d thought the guy was harmless, and people had nearly been hurt. The director’s mate had nearly been hurt.
So now he was in a cooling off period, relegated to the basement with the zombies, digitizing all the old records. It was mind numbing. And his gorilla was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in banana shaped fury.
“Mason.”
“Director Sanders.”
He jumped to his feet, banging his head on a file cabinet that Larry had thoughtlessly left open. Stupid zombie.
The director smiled coldly. Not always a good sign. “Mason, I’d like you to meet Ms. Judy Carrot.”
Mason looked around. Was she invisible?
A small, petite woman jumped out from behind the director’s large frame and gave him a tentative nod. His gorilla grunted in interest.
“You will be assisting her for the next few days. Judy will fill you in.”
The director walked away while Judy opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
“Thank you, director.”
Kiss ass sneered his gorilla. Mason ignored him. He didn’t know what he would be doing, but it had to be better than hanging out with Larry, who had an inexplicable desire to steal Mason’s lunch every day. Stupid zombie.
Yes, he thought, looking the blushing bunny shifter up and down – even he had to believe things were looking up.
*
Judy’s shyness at the big, handsome shifter was soon extinguished after he opened his mouth. She’d never met such a gruff, miserable, negative creature in her whole life. She’d told him about the case, just as she had the director, and how had he responded? By telling her, she was wasting her time and shooting down all her ideas.
Even her inner bunny had stopped trying to waggle her ears at him – some weird attempt at seduction that Judy could not seem to put a stop to - and was sighing at him.
Judy let out a long, calming breath. “If we can recover any of the eggs…”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Even one egg…”
“They’re probably long gone by now.”
“But if we can maybe pick up Moe for the murder…”
“Without evidence, we won’t be able to make that stick.”
Judy pressed her fingers to her nose to stop it twitching. She gave him a sidelong glance. She was not going to get angry. She was not going to go all full metal bunny. Although if she did try to beat him to a pulp, maybe she could kiss him better after, kiss him all over…
Mason frowned as he drove. He was driving her tiny rental car, thinking that one of the SEA cars might stand out a bit too much in case they needed to tail Moe. He’d argued a lot on that point, and she’d actually won. But he had insisted he drive, claiming she would get them lost because she didn’t know the city – his sunny optimism was really starting to grate.
She did have to admit he looked a little comical pressed into the car, hunched over the wheel. He wasn’t overly tall – not by shifter standards at least. She guessed he was about six foot four maybe five, but he was wide and thick – not fat, he was all muscle, like a hu
ge walking slab of meat. Yes, beefcake. Her bunny licked her lips. Doesn’t matter she thought primly. She was a vegetarian and was not interested in beefcake. On the other hand, her last two boyfriends, who were perhaps the equivalent of wheatgrass smoothies, were no great shakes.
But, oh, his arm muscles were so thick that his t-shirt sleeves were actually torn. And his thighs looked like tree trunks – one thigh looked even thicker than her pretty substantial waist. Nope, not important. All his hotness was ruined by his personality anyway. And she was not interested – she was here on business. She was sick of Sy Thompson and his grande, iced, sugar-free, vanilla lattes with soy milk. She was sick of cutting the crusts off his goat cheese and guacamole sandwiches. She was going to crack this case and when Jackson St. Jackson thanked her – hopefully without touching her butt – she was going to insist that she be made a full-time investigator.
That’s what this whole thing is about. That was why she’d spent hours narrowing down the suspects. Why she’d completely obliterated her social life. She was determined and, in spite of Mason’s pessimistic comments, she was going to catch the damn weasel.
*
Mason tried not to look at the bunny. It wasn’t easy. His horny assed gorilla was beating his chest at her. She was cute. Also fine, hot, sexy, gorgeous, and in possession of the single sweetest scent he had ever smelled. Mmm, fruit salad. Hey, that was the most delicious thing in the world, and he just wanted to eat it all up…
Heat blossomed over his face. It had been a while since his last girlfriend. She’d unceremoniously dumped him for a lion shifter, citing him as being irritating and stuffy. Just because he gave her ten-minute lectures on why she shouldn’t bother to play the lotto and why it wasn’t a good idea to go skinny-dipping in the ocean at night. Judging by the sighs the bunny was making, he would put her in the same category as his ex – females who couldn’t stand him.
Which was a shame. She was small, but curvy, curvier than usual for a bunny. She was wearing a prudish business suit and heels – not the best outfit for either stakeouts or chasing down perps, but he did enjoy the way the fabric stretched across her ass. Which was made up of two peachy globes begging for attention… Topped with pale skin, freckles, long light red hair and soft green eyes, she was a drool worthy sight to behold. One that made his beast want to throw her over his shoulder and climb the nearest building.
He wasn’t sure what the odds were of them actually catching her guy, but he was willing to try – but he made it clear that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Like his mom always said, never get your hopes up, settle for what you have – that way you’ll never be disappointed. She used to send him to school with notes like that in his lunchbox. Sage advice.
He had done his job and looked up the file they had on Moe. He was born in Los Lobos and appeared to have divided his time and crimes between both cities. He had a list of acquaintances in Los Lobos they could look up.
“We should talk to his mother,” said Judy.
“Didn’t you already talk to her? Can’t see the point in doing it again.”
“Yes, but I had no official capacity, you’re SEA, you can question her.”
“Doesn’t mean she’ll answer my questions.”
“But we can try! This is why I asked for help.” Exasperation tinged her tone.
Mason shrugged. “Sure, we can try.”
“Thank you,” she sighed.
“But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Judy closed her eyes, and her foot thumped on the floor of the car, but she didn’t say anything. Huh, she had more patience than he would have guessed.
*
“I’m losing my patience, Mrs. Womack.”
“Cry me a river, thumper,” cackled the old weasel shifter. “I told you what I’d do if you came back on my property again.”
Mason ducked behind Judy’s rental car and pulled her down. “She told you she’d throw cupcakes at you?”
“No, she said she’d shoot me – guess she doesn’t have her gun to hand.”
“She doesn’t have a registered gun… course that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Ugh, I’ve had enough of this.”
“She’s bound to run out of cupcakes eventually. How many can one person have?”
The pounding of cupcakes against the car stopped. Judy flicked back her hair, stood up straight and smoothed down her skirt. “She’s out of ammo.”
A pie hit her square in the face, and her bunny yelped in surprise.
“Course, she still has some lemon meringue pies,” she said resignedly. Judy wiped the pie out of her face as she heard Mrs. Womack hooting with laughter.
Mason jumped to his feet, clamping his big hands on her waist, steadying her. “You okay?” he asked in concern.
“It’s just pie, although the crust is a little stale,” she said trying to laugh – none was forthcoming. Even her little beast couldn’t see the funny side of this.
He snorted angrily. “I’ve had enough of this, stay here.”
She scooped up some meringue and sucked her finger. “I’ll be here, eating the ammo.”
*
Judy didn’t know how Mason did it, but he managed to subdue the miserable Mrs. Womack without getting hit by a pastry projectile, and she was actually talking to him and smiling. At Mason – she was smiling at Mason. Judy still warranted a look like she’d just scraped her off her house slipper.
“Like I told, her,” Mrs. Womack gave Judy a pointed look, “he’s not here… and I wouldn’t tell you if he was.”
Judy rolled her eyes. “How come you were washing his clothes?”
“Not his clothes. I take in other people's laundry to make ends meet. I’m a poor widow, you know.”
Judy pulled another piece of pie out of her hair as her rabbit chittered. The frail old woman act was not going to fly – not with a pitching arm like that.
“So you’re saying you have no idea where he is?”
“No, absolutely not, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Ugh!
*
Mason couldn’t help the smile.
Judy had questioned Mrs. Womack for half an hour – which was twenty-five minutes longer than he would have bothered. Mrs. Womack was nice to him, fluttering, girlishly when he smiled, but she wasn’t about to give up her baby boy for him.
Judy was tenacious, though - he had to admire that. So tenacious she wasn’t even bothering to go back to her hotel and shower out the remaining pie. She’d got most of it, but she was now infused with a delicious sweet lemon smell that made an intoxicating mix along with her natural fruity scent. His gorilla groaned.
Judy pursed her lips. “I still think she knows something.”
“Yeah, but she’s not going to tell us, ever.”
“But we could still stake out her house.”
“If you haven’t seen him there in three days, you won’t see him now.”
“But if there’s two of us, we could cover both exits.”
“And maybe he’s getting in a different way – like through a window - or maybe he’s not staying there at all.”
Judy sighed. “Perhaps the director can spare a few more agents.”
His gorilla huffed. He was all the agent she needed.
“He gave you me, and you’ve got me – end of. This isn’t an official investigation so you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got. Let’s just question his known associates… for all the good it will do.”
“Fine, whatever you think,” she hissed, folding her arms, pushing out those oh so plump breasts. She was annoyed, but it only increased her sexiness. Her nose twitched again, and his gorilla grinned.
Then, she surprised him. Instead of arguing, she let out a long breath. Unfolding her arms she actually smiled and took out of the file on Womack.
“Okay, so known associates. Who shall we tackle first?”
*
“You have got to be kidding me?” squeaked Judy. She reread the
sign and gulped again.
Mason rolled a shoulder unconcernedly. “This is where his ex-girlfriend works.”
“Could you not have chosen someone else on the list?”
“They lived together for three years, and if you subtract everyone on that list not currently in prison or dead – it’s a very short list.”
Judy grasped at straws. “Well, maybe they had a messy breakup and there’s no way she would know where he is.”
“Or maybe they still have the same friends, and she will have heard about him being in town. And if it were a messy break up then she’ll be happy to tell us where he is.”
Well, he had a point. Dejectedly she read the sign for the third time. Nude Beach. The sign that women everywhere with body issues dreaded. Nudity was for the bedroom when all the lights were off, not for bright, sunny days with disturbingly clear skies! Even her bunny blushed at the idea of it, and the lucky creature was covered in fur.
A man who had to be in his eighties strolled past the car, and Judy was at just the right height to get an eyeful.
“Ugh! Well, at least if I look up I won’t have to see too much.”
“Yeah, there’s kind of a dress code on the beach…”
“Oh no…” Her rabbit was at panic stations.
“Yep, no clothes allowed. They’ll allow shoes and socks in a pinch, but no clothes.”
“That’s barbaric!” she snapped, automatically trying to cover her private areas, even though she still wore clothes.
His eyes seemed to twinkle. “Want me to go in alone?”
Yes! “No, I want to be there, I just, ah…” Preferred keeping the parts that jiggled under wraps.
Mason cocked her a half smile. “It’ll be fine. Everyone will be naked – no big deal. We’re shifters; nudity is normal for us.”
He heaved himself out the car and started stripping on the spot. She followed suit, although stripping with a little less alacrity. To be fair, it was hard to concentrate while trying to take in every detail of Mason’s body. Thick, taut, yummy flesh was displayed in all its glory, and her eyes feasted on it, trying to devour and memorize every inch. And oh lord there went his boxers! She felt a definite tingle down below.