Bootscootin' and Cozy Cash Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Scott, D. D.

  Childless, Uncle Lewis and Aunt Dodie had always looked after us with great pride. There were no boundaries to their affections. For that reason, they’d been kind enough to allow Wayne to set-up this farce of a job in order to accomplish the objectives of his real occupation.

  But honestly, Aunt Dodie also thrived on helping Wayne with his career as a private investigator. She did have the eye, actually the nose, for his line of work. And on many occasions, she had helped him find the missing pieces of cases that had, up to that point, eluded him.

  In fact, it was her good-natured meddling that was simultaneously indispensable and irritating as hell.

  But despite our closeness to Lewis and Dodie, we would never have asked to use their company as a false storefront.

  And yes, I most definitely said ‘we’.

  Actually, Aunt Dodie and I had formulated the plan as a way for Wayne to appear to be settling into the neighborhood. We had reasoned with him that by accepting an Inventory Manager position at Deville, he’d have the cover he needed to find the person his latest client had hired him to locate. Since the person he had to find was also one of Deville’s best customers, Aunt Dodie and I were basically geniuses.

  In the meantime, I’ve gone from helping locate missing cozy cash, in my Thug Guard and Lip Glock adventures, to now searching for missing people.

  Okay, I’ll admit it. I may have gotten my nose for trouble from Aunt Dodie’s gene pool. But regardless, she had asked me to come home and help her with this job, so here I am.

  Besides, I’ve learned a whole new repertoire of investigative skills, thanks to Roman and Zoey and Roman’s QuarterMaster R, and I am rather anxious to try them out.

  Wayne pulled his Mac from its silver case and positioned it in the center of the desk. While he waited for it to power-up, he flipped through the paper file he always created on each new client.

  Of course, Aunt Dodie and I had already snuck into his briefcase and perused the file, so we knew exactly what it contained.

  Luke Branson’s press shot slid out of the folder and onto the glass.

  Wayne searched the man’s face as if his intense study of it would cause the turd to appear right here in the flesh, ready for interrogation.

  After adding Luke Branson to my Turd Roster, I couldn’t help but harrumph all to myself. I just love our Cozy Cash Adventure terms. For example, there is “vic” for victims and “perp” for perpetrators.

  But by far, my personal favorite is “turd”, the name Roman, Zoey and R use for the money-hungry thugs we’ve been busy rounding-up. And wow, after spending most of my adult life on the posh Upper East Side of Manhattan, I’ve sure never been able to spout-off about turds.

  Now then…back to our current turd on the loose.

  Luke had the dark features of an Italian god. His black hair cascaded down around his shoulders in the first photo, but was severely pulled back in the second shot. In both, his raven eyes bore holes right through you.

  The photos offered no room for misinterpretation. Luke Branson was a force to be feared, and he wanted anyone looking at him to have no doubts they should be afraid…very, very afraid.

  Luke was a highly successful movie producer. Well, that’s what his tax forms stated.

  But Wayne’s instincts were just like Aunt Dodie’s and mine, which meant, when it came to the Hollywood Film Industry, we all registered flashing yellow lights. The Industry was often nothing more than a glistening cover for sinister, underworld crime empires.

  Although we currently didn’t have enough information to substantiate our gut feelings, we knew it was only a matter of time until we did.

  Throughout his ten-year career as a Navy Seal, Wayne had learned to trust himself. After another ten years as a Private Investigator, his gut instincts were golden. He’d only been hurt when he had not listened to those inner signals. He’d been hurt once. And he refused to up the count.

  As for Aunt Dodie, she was always right-on…about everything. The woman was just that damn smart.

  Me? Well…after Thug Guard and Lip Glock Mom Squad Duty, I was catching on fairly quick. Too bad I hadn’t caught-on at such a super swift speed regarding my marriage. I should have dumped that bastard decades ago. Oh well. Live and learn, right? And besides, now I’m having a grand time playing Charlie’s Angels.

  Setting Luke’s pictures aside, Wayne removed a brown envelope from the pocket of his briefcase then shoved the empty case under the desk.

  Popping the clasp of the envelope, he turned the package over and spilled its contents. The items that tumbled out onto the desktop may be all he knew about Kit Branson, but Dodie and I had a wee bit more up our Raeve-designed sleeves.

  Deciding that now was as good a time as any to make my presence known and butt-in where I was about to prove I belonged, I walked on into Wayne’s temporary office.

  “So I hear Luke hired you to find Kit and bring her back to their North Whittier Drive estate?” I asked.

  “That he did, Lil. Interesting the schmuck couldn’t pinpoint the exact day he’d noticed she was missing,” Wayne said, tapping his well-used pencil against the top of Luke’s file.

  I knew from what Aunt Dodie had told me that Luke had insisted to Wayne that he’d been the model husband to Kit. Unfortunately, he stated, as a result of her precarious mental state, Kit had convinced herself that Luke was a danger to her and had fled their home.

  “He says he only called me to appease Kit’s assistant who was worried that she’d had no contact with her for several days.”

  I bet he did, I thought, taking a seat in one of the two ornate chairs Uncle Lewis kept in front of his desk.

  “The bastard told me that, after trying to explain Kit’s absence around Tinsel Town, he was becoming something of a social pariah. He claimed that he loved her and had tried to understand her complexities, but could no longer be bothered to tolerate her disloyalty and disregard for his needs.”

  “Aunt Dodie said Luke believes Kit may be here in the Playa del Rey area,” I said, getting a feel for just how much Wayne was going to tell me versus what he had no idea I already knew.

  “Yeah. Apparently, the jetty bordering the marina is one of her favorite places,” he said, with a rather surprised look on his face.

  Since Wayne had claimed, as his primary residence, the boats he kept in the same marina protected by that jetty, he was probably wondering how he’d failed to notice a woman as gorgeous as Kit.

  Chewing the wood casing of his pencil with the relentlessness of a beaver constructing a dam on a deadline, I knew my brother was completely absorbed by Branson hypotheticals.

  When Aunt Dodie came barreling into the room, he didn’t notice. But the second she dropped a large box onto the corner of the desk, he jumped-up from his seat with the instinctive reflex of a soldier who was about to be ambushed.

  “What’s this?” He asked.

  Watching the two of them interact, I couldn’t help but be amused by Aunt Dodie’s ever-expanding roundness compared to Wayne’s organically-fed and well-fit physique. And although I worried that Dodie wasn’t doing her health justice with the added pounds from her sugar addiction, I worried Wayne would OD on wheat grass shots and Rhus Tox pellets.

  “I thought it might be a good idea for you to get to know the products you’re now in charge of tracking,” Dodie answered, in-between ragged breaths, with a broad grin slowly forming across her lips.

  “This ought to be interesting, Auntie Do,” I said, hardly able to stand it until Wayne opened the box of intimate goodies we’d thrown together as a little initiation of sorts.

  “Some of it, you might not be familiar with. We have added a couple of new lines,” Aunt Dodie said, followed by a soulful laugh.

  Wayne pulled a red thong out of the box and yanked back the thin strap like a bow, as if he was going to fling it across the room.

  “Thanks for your concern, but so far, so good.”

  “Oh, really…?” I couldn’t help but ask b
etween giggles.

  Wayne’s crooked grin befit a fox as he held up a black leather bustier.

  “Mmm. I believe I’ve handled these before too.”

  “Glad to hear it, Romeo. But we’ve saved our best for last.”

  Aunt Dodie produced one of Deville’s bras from the box then placed it over Wayne’s monitor.

  We both studied our prize pupil’s puzzled expression.

  “It’s a water bra. We call it Fluid Fulfillment. Better study up on that one. We have many young ladies stopping in to try them out. I do expect you to assist our Customer Service Rep. After all, your Mrs. Branson is one of our best customers.”

  “How do you know…?”

  Wayne stammered while he tried to figure out how Aunt Dodie and I knew so much about Kit.

  His hand swept across the bra to remove it from his monitor but gravity got the best of both him and our bestselling product. Before he could stop it, the water bra toppled right over the side of the desk.

  As he retrieved the bra from his wastebasket with the end of his desecrated pencil, his red face and questioning eyes met ours.

  “Better learn to handle those with a little more finesse, my boy. By the way, she wears a 36D, so you might want to check our stock,” Aunt Dodie said.

  “Yeah, thanks. I’ll get right on that.”

  After seeing Auntie Do out of his office, Wayne shuffled through the rest of the feminine intimates that filled the box.

  With each discovery he made, the skin on his face grew a deeper shade of the most brilliant of lipstick reds.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Sis?”

  “You know it!”

  Reaching the bottom of the box, he pulled out a large black binder that Auntie Do had hidden inside. He leafed through the plastic sleeves, no doubt paying close attention to the products we’d highlighted with post-it notes, reading some variation of: ‘Kit enjoys — Size Medium — Color Black.’

  With each note he read, Wayne rolled his eyes.

  Sometimes, I suspected he thought our motivations went way beyond our interest in his professional affairs. And he could be right. I mean, after all, who said I had to limit my interests to finding missing people? I’d always been one hell of a terrific matchmaker.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  As a result of Wayne’s careful study of Deville 1300’s inventory and product lines, the next two weeks’ sales reports showed a substantial increase in the company’s profitability. Uncle Lewis was thrilled with the company’s bottom line.

  Aunt Dodie and I were thrilled with the bottom line too, but we were most amused after observing Wayne’s newfound prowess regarding our customers’ personal ‘bottom’ lines.

  Not a morning passed that there wasn’t a line of women waiting for our small storefront’s doors to open to experience Wayne’s recently honed fitting expertise.

  Despite his awkward pleasure with the attention, he was frustrated he had yet to meet Kit. Pressure was also building against him from regular visits by Luke’s thugs.

  Every couple of days, on his way to the coffee shop next door to the store, Wayne was treated to their ominous company. Oddly enough, he had still not received a follow-up call from Luke himself. Luke’s nonchalance played into our theory of what was behind his obvious lack of concern. It also made it appear that perhaps Luke had something more directly to do with Kit’s disappearance.

  At this point, I was beginning to wonder if there was even a person alive to find. Let alone a beautiful woman to hook-up with my brother.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  A week later, as he did every morning, about an hour before the store opened at ten, Wayne struggled to get both himself and his bike into the front door.

  I looked up from arranging our latest shipment of water bras on one of the front display tables and just smiled at him. Boy was he in for one helluva day!

  Hearing Aunt Dodie’s voice conversing with another female’s, and not my own, Wayne seemed surprised.

  Not that it would have been unusual for Aunt Dodie to be talking to herself out loud, but she usually didn’t answer herself…at least not when other people were within earshot.

  The sound was coming from Aunt Dodie’s office, which was across the hall from Wayne’s.

  Wayne, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, tried to wheel his bike quietly past Dodie’s door.

  Knowing him, he was headed straight for the long, hot shower he took each day in his office suite before the start of business. After a brisk ride to town from the marina, he said the steam relaxed his muscles and mentally prepared him for the day ahead.

  I’d recently joked with him that before venturing out into the boutique to face his ever-increasing clientele, he should try cold water instead of hot. With the amount of estrogen and silicone he was now facing on a daily basis, I didn’t think he needed any more heat.

  “There you are, Dear.”

  We both should have known better than to think he could get past Dodie unnoticed.

  “Good morning, Auntie Do. I didn’t mean to bother you or your guest, I was just getting in.”

  Now positioned right behind my brother, I smiled all to myself as our aunt’s guest placed her teacup on the edge of Do’s desk then turned her attention to Wayne.

  I swear, the electricity between them was enough to cause the nearest transformer to blow.

  Although Kit had colored and restyled her hair, there was no way my brother could have missed her curvaceous build and chestnut eyes. If my brother looked like Sean Connery’s twin, then Kit…well…she would certainly make one super-hot Bond Girl.

  “Wayne, I’d like to introduce you to Kit Branson.”

  My brother, Sir Connery’s Twin, was now almost choking, and I’m sure Aunt Dodie’s fiendish grin wasn’t helping one bit.

  “Kit, dear, please say hello to my nephew Wayne, Deville’s new Inventory Manager. And I believe you and my niece Lily have already met.”

  Kit stood and reached out her hand to Wayne.

  Wayne’s knees appeared to wobble and his palm’s must have been damp, because he wiped ‘em on his biking shorts first before taking her hand.

  For the record, I seriously doubt his palms were sweaty from cycling.

  Why do I doubt?

  Because the glare he directed at me was a clear sign I was in as much trouble as dear old Aunt Dodie.

  Kit cleared her throat, and I could have sworn I heard her softly giggle.

  Maybe it was my imagination, but judging from the way Aunt Dodie was pretending to review non-existent paperwork on her desk, I doubted it.

  I wasn’t in denial. Dodie, Kit and I had been anxiously waiting for this moment. It was too bad that Wayne didn’t appear to share our enthusiasm.

  “Your aunt tells me you’ll be able to work me in this morning for a fitting. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in, and I think I’ve lost a little weight. I could use your expertise.”

  “Fair enough. Let me clean up, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Wayne turned to leave Auntie Do’s office, probably figuring he’d best get out of here before he stopped being able to form complete sentences. But he didn’t make his escape until after he’d noticed me chewing the corner of my lip, just like Dodie was, to prevent ourselves from guffawing out loud.

  If he didn’t need to talk to Kit so bad, he’d have let us both have it right then. We drove him nuts. But, as usual, Dodie had found his prize. And boy-oh-boy, was I thrilled to have helped.

  Jesus, I thought to myself while shaking my head, Wayne and Uncle Lewis are both humorless worker bees. Uncle Lewis needed to give both Auntie Do and myself raises. We deserved it. We’d worked out asses off to get Kit into the store this morning. There was no doubt. I was asking for a raise before they fired us.

  “Go ahead and call your Duke and Duchess,” Wayne instructed me in a low and very dark tone on his way out of Dodie’s office.

  He stashed his bike in the corner of Uncle Lewis’ office then
headed for his shower.

  And I would imagine he turned down the water temperature to as cold as it would go.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  From the moment Wayne entered Kit’s dressing room he was overwhelmed by her.

  How did I know this?

  Me and Aunt Dodie were watching it all, and listening too, from behind the two-way mirror Wayne had installed in the event he had the chance to confront Kit. Plus, Wayne always met with Luke’s thugs in this same dressing room, so he’d wanted a sound and video system as well. That way, if the over-protein-shaked goons decided to try to take him out, we’d have everything on tape.

  The more Wayne talked to Kit, the more we all realized that, unlike her husband’s portrayal of her, Kit was in no way close to being of questionable mental soundness. She was a wonderfully articulate and sensitive woman. She had a self-deprecating style of humor that obviously captivated him and a strong will that drove us all to want to protect her, even though we barely knew her.

  Wayne was attentively adjusting Fluid Fulfillment closures and straps when Kit reached her hand around to gently get his attention. When he looked up into the mirror in front of them and between us, his gaze caught hers…and ours.

  He must have glimpsed her frightened soul for the first time, just like we had from the other side of the mirror.

  “What is it, Kit?”

  “You’re right about, Luke, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the reason I’m running.”

  Knowing he needed to give her some space and time to express her fears, Wayne handed her a robe and motioned for her to sit on the soft velvet chair that sat in the corner of the room. He knelt down in front of her, took her hands in his, and remained silent. His eyes beckoned her to release her secrets into his care.

  Anyone was safe looking into those eyes. I’d never met a man with the same genuine kindness and fierce protective concern my brother always showed.

  I’d already told Kit she could believe in him, and I was tickled to see she’d taken my advice.

  “Luke is not just a big-time Hollywood producer. He’s the head of an old crime family and will stop at nothing to protect his greatest source of income, and the real reason for his wealth. I walked in on him and some of his associates during a deal that had gone bad. Knowing his cover had been blown, he threatened to kill me if I ever tried to get in the way of his business or even thought about trying to blow his cover.”