From the Working Man's Guide to Sleuthing for a Living by Albert Taylor, PI
I crept back to my apartment before first light and headed right into the shower. The hot water helped clear away some of the cobwebs but didn't touch the sense of icky confusion that clung to me like a second skin.
I changed into a faded pair of jeans with fraying cuffs and a black racer-back tank that proclaimed the java's honest truth in big block letters: I can't adult today.
Mac was at the coffeepot looking daisy fresh. "You got in late. I didn't even hear you. More work?"
"No." I couldn't even wrap my head around the investigation, just one more thing I was screwing up.
My daughter studied me closely as she poured her coffee. "You're not looking too hot. You coming down with something?"
"Nothing like that. Hey listen, you think maybe you could play hooky today? I'll write you a note. Tell them you have a fever." I said the last part in my best Christopher Walken inflection.
Mac groaned and stuffed a bagel in the toaster. "Mom, it's too early for SNL skits."
I couldn't resist and fell right back into it. "They don't need to know that the only prescription is moar cowbell."
Mac rolled her eyes at my Walkenesque pronunciation just as her bagel popped out of the toaster "I can't. I have a Spanish test, and I need to get some work done on the genetics project during my free period."
I poured my own coffee and took a fortifying sip. "Hey listen. I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday that I ran into Brett again."
Mac froze with the bagel halfway to her mouth. "What happened?"
"It was all case related, mostly his case. But I remembered some stuff. About him and his issues with the truth. And then the whole debacle with the police happened and between school and your new internship…and I was just thinking that maybe we should wait on the grand reveal."
Mac was quiet. Like Hunter type quiet.
It made me nervous. "Yes? No? Maybe?"
"Were you with him last night?"
"What?" I blinked. "No, of course not."
"Where were you then?"
I blew out a breath. "I was with Hunter. I know I told you I wouldn't, and I didn't intend to, but it just happened. It was a mistake."
She turned and dropped her bagel in the trash, scooped up her backpack, and headed toward the door.
"Hey wait a second!" I scurried after her, snagging the strap of her backpack before she could escape. "Not only did you just waste perfectly good food, but we were in the middle of a conversation. You can't just leave."
"I have school, and my appetite disappeared." I could practically hear her molars grinding. "Let go."
"Not until we talk about this."
She rounded on me. "What's to talk about? You never do what you promise me you'll do. Do I have to sneak past his door now, avoid all eye contact? Should I remind you he was there when I was arrested and didn't do anything to stop it?"
"You told me it wasn't his fault," I argued back. "Yesterday, you were the one defending him!"
"Because I didn't want you coming down on him like a ton of bricks. But I didn't know the alternative would be you hopping into bed with him!"
I blew out a breath, tired of defending my actions to her. "Listen, I'm sorry if you're so upset, and I won't do it again, but I'm not sorry it happened. I really like him, Mac."
"Did you sneak out of his bed this morning?"
"That's not—"
She bowled right over the top of me. "Does he still live next door? Are you two on the same it was a one-time thing page or will my life get even more complicated? And then there's Brett."
I put my hands on my hips in classic showdown fashion. "Is that really what this is about then?"
"You promised me you'd tell him." She mimicked my pose.
"I will, but Mac, think it through. You already have a full plate."
"Stop pretending this is about me," she snapped.
"Hey," I snapped back, the leash on my temper frayed to the breaking point. "I know I may not act like it all the time, but I am your mother, and when I say now isn't the right time to invite your father into your life, I expect you to accept it as the truth even if you don't like it."
"Whatever." Mac wrenched her backpack free and yanked the door open. "You'll do what you want. You always do, no matter the collateral damage."
I gaped at her, open-mouthed as she stormed through the entryway and slammed out the front door. I wanted to call her back but figured the walk to the bus stop would cool her temper and maybe a little normal teenager type of distraction would help her get over her ire.
"Everything all right down there, doll?" Nona called from the top of the stairs.
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, just teenager versus mama drama. I'm not liking my odds."
"Come on up. I got a nice coffee cake," Nona insisted.
"Just let me put the dog out."
I let Snickers out in the back yard and then, remembering Nona's mini-cups, grabbed my coffee mug, and filled it to the brim.
Nona's door was open, and she was slicing into the coffee cake.
"You seem verklempt," she observed.
"I passed verklempt a few days ago." I lowered myself into the chair. "Right now I'm at the regretting-I've-been-born phase."
She patted my hand. "Tell Nona all about it."
I blew out a sigh. "The long and short of it is that Mac's angry because I won't tell her father about her existence."
"He doesn't know he has a daughter?"
"No. When I first saw him he was all cool and collected, and I felt bad, but then I caught him in a lie, and all the reasons I thought he was too immature to handle parenthood came back." I fiddled with my napkin. "And I don't want to share her."
"Ah." Nona nodded. "I see."
"She's my best friend as well as my daughter. Even when she's being the quintessential difficult teenager, I'm lost without her. If Brett knew about her, he might want to spend time with her, and between school and her new obligation with the police…"
"The police?" Nona's eyebrows went up.
"It's a long story. And she's also mad at me about Hunter. We… that is Hunter and I…" I looked her in the eye, lowering my chin as I waited for her to catch my drift.
"Schtupped?" Nona waggled her eyebrows. "I knew you two would go together like pastrami and rye. How was it?"
I blushed.
"That good, huh?" Nona fanned herself with her napkin. "Honey, give yourself a break. It's okay to enjoy life to the fullest. And as for Mac's father, you did what you believed was right for you and for her then, and you'll do what's right for both of you now."
"But what if what's right for her is not what's right for me? She'll be heading off to college in a few years, and I'll hardly see her. I want to savor the time we have together before she's gone."
"The tighter you hold on, doll, the sooner she'll leave."
She was right. I knew she was. "Thanks, Nona. Now, if I could only solve my murder case, I'd be set."
"Can't help you with that, I'm afraid. Give my regards to that handsome lawyer when you see him."
I pushed back my chair. "Will do, Nona. Will do."
After letting Snickers back in and changing into more suitable work attire, I was all set to head out the door when someone knocked. "Open up Red. I know you're in there."
Judas Priest, I wasn't ready to deal with Hunter yet. For one thing, I'd snuck out of his bed in the wee small hours like a coward. And for another, I was hoping Mac would come around to our relationship. Sure, it had all the potential for a romantic disaster, but with great risk came great reward. And, for maybe the first time I was almost ready to take the risk. Which scared me to death. But still, I had promised Mac it was a one-time thing, and I didn't want to renege on yet another front. Me and my big, fat mouth.
"Mackenzie." He knocked louder and Snickers barked. "Let's talk about this."
No, no, no. Warning, warning, danger, danger, Will Robi
nson! I backed slowly away from the door, heading back to the bedroom and out the sliding glass door. After climbing the low fence, I crept through the bushes and over to where Fillmore was parked. Though I had no clear destination in mind, Fillmore was the better bet for surveillance.
I called Brett and let out a relieved sigh when his voicemail picked up. "Hey, this is Mackenzie. Can we meet up? You can reach me at this number."
My phone rang just as I hit the end of the street. "Hello?"
"Mackenzie? Hey, it's Brett. I have some information about your case."
"You do?" I asked eagerly. "That's good because I need to talk to you about something. Where can we meet up?"
"How about your lawyer's office. I'm not far from there now." His voice sounded a little strained.
"Sounds good. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, sure."
"How did it go with your case?" I probed. "Did you catch Ruth's man dealing your drug?"
"I don't want to get into it over the phone." He definitely sounded distracted.
"Okay, it'll take me about twenty minutes. See you then." I disconnected and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. Had I mentioned Len to Brett? Well he was a PI after all, and he'd been at it longer than I had. Traffic was backed up, and I distracted myself thinking about Paul Granger, aka the leg-humper.
The man had the morals of an alley cat, and considering what I'd learned about him, I was surprised he'd had the intelligence to repurpose the Alphadra. The fact that Right Touch had hired Brett showed that Paul wasn't at all careful about hiding what he'd been up to. Even his wife had known the company had been paying him.
His wife. The doctor. Who presumably had the knowledge of drugs and how they interacted with the human body. Who was going through a messy divorce and maybe needed the money.
Could Jessica Granger have hired someone to kill her husband the way Hunter thought? She had certainly put off the type of vibe I would have associated with a murderer. But I kept coming back to Kimmy. How would the two women have met, except through Paul? And if Kimmy had been helping distribute the drug, why would Dr. Granger have killed her?
The number for the men's health clinic where Kimmy had worked was in my notebook. I pulled Fillmore over, plucked up my cell phone, and dialed.
Ruth picked up on the first ring.
"It's Mackenzie Taylor." I said. "I was just wondering, did a Dr. Jessica Granger ever stop by the office?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Ruth said. "And I'm getting a little fed up with all your questions."
"Kimmy was your friend, Ruth. Help me find out who killed her."
"Make it snappy," Ruth said. "I don't have all day."
I got down to business. "Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Kimmy? An ex-boyfriend or maybe a relative who was abusive?" I asked, thinking of Hunter's story.
"If she did have anyone like that lurking around, she never told me about it," Ruth responded.
"We think Paul Granger was killed because he was messing with the drugs he was supposed to be selling, faking orders, and selling them on the street. Is there any way Kimmy maybe caught on to whoever was helping him?" I said. "Any secrets that were maybe eating her up?"
"Now that you mention it, she was acting a little weird since your visit. She'd been quiet and jumpy. I thought that was maybe because one of the doctors barked at her, but it could have easily been something else. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to keep this line open." Ruth hung up before I could thank her.
Some thanks it would be, too, if her significant other was arrested for dealing the Alphadra. Damn, I really needed to find out what Brett knew if I was going to have any chance of piecing the answers together.
I parked across the street from Len's office. There was the Escalade, a few spots down. Good, Brett was there already.
My phone rang, and the sleeping profile candid I'd snapped of Hunter that morning popped up. So, he knew I was no longer in the building.
"I'm just heading into a meeting. I'll talk to you soon." I cradled the phone between my shoulder and head so I had a hand free to open the door.
"No, wait, Mackenzie," he began, but I fumbled the phone and accidently disconnected.
The front door was unlocked, and I pushed my way inside calling out, "Len! It's me. I hope you have coffee because—"
The words died in my throat as I saw Len and Brett tied to chairs and an unconscious woman lying face-down on the floor. And over by the desk sat my wide-eyed daughter and a familiar man holding a handgun to her head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
There are times when you do everything right and the situation still goes sideways. A good private investigator needs to think on his feet.
From the Working Man's Guide to Sleuthing for a Living by Albert Taylor, PI
"You?" I blinked in confusion at Dr. Bernard Dole as he held a gun on my daughter. My daughter, who was supposed to be in school, not in mortal peril at my place of employment. "You were the one stealing the Alphadra?"
"It wasn't stealing." The not-so-good doctor's tone was even, as if he didn't have five people held hostage. "Right Touch was paid for those drugs, and paid far more than they were worth. Lock the door."
I did. "But why?" I asked, partly because I really wanted to know, but mostly because I needed to draw his attention away from Mac. As long as the barrel of that handgun was trained on my daughter, I couldn't do a thing.
Brett spoke up. "That's what you get for going into business with a loser like Paul Granger. Someone smarter would have covered his tracks better. How about you let the girl go. She's got nothing to do with this."
I could have kissed him for trying to secure her release and crossed my fingers that it would work.
Dr. Dole didn't turn so much as a hair as he studied Mac. "I'm afraid that's unacceptable. You've seen my face. It's unfortunate that you chose this very morning to show up here. I'm assuming this is why you came here, to see your mother?"
All the blood had drained from my daughter's face. Her lips were clamped firmly together, and she didn't answer him. Good girl.
Brett frowned. "Mother?"
The doctor made a derisive sound. "Well, she looks exactly like Ms. Taylor, doesn't she? Genetics don't lie."
Brett's gaze swung to me, and then back to Mac. I could see the wheels spinning. "You have a kid?"
Dole studied Mac more closely. "No, genetics don't lie. And if I'm not mistaken, she has your eyes, Mr. Archer. In fact, I'd wager you spent some quality time with Ms. Taylor sixteen or seventeen years ago." He chuckled at Brett's obvious astonishment and Mac's hands clenching into fists, her whole body braced for impact.
I didn't stop to worry about the personal atomic bomb that had just gone off. We could deal with the fallout later, if we survived. "So what's your plan then?" I took a step closer, intending to wedge myself bodily between Mac and Dole's weapon. "You're just going to murder an office full of people and expect to get away with it?"
"I have a convincing scapegoat." His free hand indicated the woman on the floor. "Dr. Granger's personal and professional slipups have her primed for a breakdown that ends in mass murder."
"But she has nothing to do with Alphadra." I risked another step, bringing me about five feet from Mac and the doctor. "And Brett knows Kimmy didn't either."
"Poor Kimmy. Wrong place, wrong time. I was sorry she had to die, but what else was I supposed to do when she discovered the phony orders? It was all because of that idiot, Paul Granger. Who did he think he was, demanding a bigger cut of the profits? I was the one who faked the orders under Kimmy's office ID code, paying for the drug out-of-pocket and cutting it down before handing it over to various contacts."
"But why?" I really didn't care, but a good investigator would want to know what motive she'd missed.
"Cancer research. My funding dried up, but I was so close, within a few months of coming up with a real treatment option without the horrific side effects. Now tell me, who deserved the lion's shar
e of the profits?"
Another step. If I reached out my arm, I'd be able to touch Mac's chair. "So it's all about the money? You took a father away from his children, killed an innocent girl, and why? Because she figured out what you were doing?"
"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. And that's far enough, Ms. Taylor."
I froze mid-step and swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter what your reasons are, you're a drug-dealing murderer."
He raised the gun but instead of shooting me, cracked it over my face. I went down hard, catching myself with my hands.
"Mom," Mac cried.
I held up a hand, trying to ignore the throbbing pain. "It's okay."
"Just for that, I'm going to shoot your daughter first, so you can watch her die." The click of the safety was audible.
I was about to scream when there was a loud knock behind the door.
Doctor Dole extracted a syringe from his jacket pocket. "Who is that?"
"A walk-in probably," Len spoke for the first time.
"Tell whoever it is to go away."
"We're closed," Len shouted.
"Mr. Copeland? It's Agnes Taylor, Mackenzie's mom."
Dr. Dole cursed. "Am I going to have to wipe out your entire sodding family tree?"
My mouth opened, and I was about to scream for her to run and get help when the barrel of the gun was pressed against my temple.
"Stand up. Let's greet her together. The rest of you, not a sound."
I nearly vomited as I pushed myself to my feet, and the room tilted like a really bad case of the drunk spins. Dole was right behind me, gun in one hand and syringe in the other. I tried to think of some way to warn my mother, some secret code that would let her know she needed to run and get help. But between the braining and my terror not one single thought came to mind.
We were all going to die because I wanted to play detective. Regret filled me. Hanging up on Hunter, fighting with Mac, not telling Brett the truth when I'd had the chance. And that was just one morning.
Would Uncle Al have found a way out of this mess? Uncle Al probably would have caught on to Dr. Dole immediately, would have stopped him before Kimmy was killed.
Sleuthing for a Living (Mackenzie & Mackenzie PI Mysteries Book 1) Page 20