“Thanks.” I said, grateful for the interruption. “Excuse me.” Nodding to Gabe’s mom, whose name I still didn’t know, I picked up the phone. With a clipped, professional tone, I said, “Samantha Shaw, how may I help you?”
“Sam!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear, then returned it. “Chad?” Uh-oh. Did he know I copied the soccer books?
“Hey, listen, Sam. Things got a little confusing here and you left before we could finish up our business. How about having dinner with me tonight?”
My head felt like someone pulled open my skull and poured in hot needles. “Sorry, I’m busy.”
“Oh. Well then, why don’t I come by your house, say around eight? I’ll bring dessert. A whipped cream dessert.”
This wasn’t happening. I glanced at Gabe, then looked at his mother. His mother! This is how Gabe introduces me to his mother? Badass PI or not, I was going to clobber him. “Listen, Chad, now’s not a good time for me. I have to go.”
“Right. Then I’ll be over to your house tonight at eight.”
“No!” I closed my eyes and rubbed the burning throb between my eyebrows. Some of those hot needles were trying to burrow their way out of my skull.
“Ah, come on, Sam. You know you want me to come over.”
I slammed the phone down.
“Babe, you seem a little stressed.”
No shit. I ignored Gabe. However dumb he was probably wasn’t his mother’s fault. Nothing I could do now but brazen this situation out. Moving around my desk, I went past Gabe and held my hand out to his mother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances. I’ve had a . . .” I looked into her dark eyes, then noticed her smile. “. . . I’d like to say unusual morning. But it’s pretty typical for me.”
Gabe’s mom took my hand in both of hers. “I’m Iris, and my son is an imbecile. I told him so on the way over here.” She nodded her head, her grip firm on my hand.
I liked her already. Her warm, dry hand felt strong and confident. She smelled like green apples. How could I not like a woman that smelled like green apples? “He’s a man. They’re all imbeciles.”
“So we’ll go to lunch? And you’ll tell me about your typical day that leaves your clothes in shreds?”
“Why not?” I stripped off the shredded white shirt, and then looked down at my calf-high suede boots, short black skirt and barely-there black camisole. Without the white shirt, I had crossed over from hip dating executive to aging biker chick. Just the look I had hoped to impress my boyfriend’s mother with. I threw the ruined shirt on my desk. God, I wished for a nice tailored jacket. And Tylenol. Forcing a smile, I opened my mouth to say I was ready when I heard the front door open out in the reception area, then a woman crying.
“Excuse me.” I slipped between Gabe and his mom and stepped out to the reception area. I recognized the crying woman. “Roxy?”
She lifted her head, her side-parted dark blond hair falling into sleek straight lines around her full face. Her red-rimmed, puffy eyes stood out, marring her natural beauty. “Oh Sam! It’s just awful. I . . .”
She must have caught sight of Gabe and his mother behind me. Her face froze.
“Roxy.” I put my arm around her shoulders. Roxanne had five or six inches and fifty or so pounds on me. But she was like a child and let me guide her past Blaine toward the interview room. “Why don’t you go sit inside there and I’ll bring us some coffee.” I reached out and opened the door to the sound proofed room. “I have to finish up some business and I’ll be right in.”
She walked in and headed for the oak table where I liked to interview clients. I pulled the door shut and turned around.
Gabe and his mother. God, this was some day. “Uh, look, I’m sorry about lunch, but I have to talk to Roxy.”
Iris stared at the closed door. “That poor girl—isn’t she that new model? The full-sized one that I’ve seen on the morning shows?”
I should have known Gabe’s mom would be as observant as her son was. Fixing an overused smile on my face, I said, “Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow if you are still here?”
Iris smiled at me. “Don’t you worry a bit about us. You just go find out what’s wrong with your client. You have important work to do.” She turned and started walking out the door, then looked back. “Come on, Gabe.”
I stared at her retreating back. My experience with mothers, my mother in particular, told me that was too easy. What was Gabe’s mother up to?
“Babe.”
Gabe stepped up to stand an inch from me. I looked up into his dark eyes under winged brows. “I could smack you.”
His mouth quirked up. “Yeah?”
“Stop that,” I whispered, knowing full well that Blaine sat four feet away listening to every word. “I can’t believe you dropped your mother on me like that!”
“I thought you’d want to meet her.” He arched a single eyebrow. I’d only seen him use that look on me. It usually meant, What the hell are you talking about? Or, what the hell have you done now?
“Right. Every woman wants to meet her boyfriend’s mother looking like a biker chick.”
A lazy grin rolled over his face.
“Go away. Just go away.” I could not believe he didn’t get it.
He reached out, cupping his large hands around my bare shoulders. “Why don’t we change the subject and you tell me what that phone call in your office was about?”
Every once in a while, I underestimated Gabe Pulizzi. He’d been a street cop in Los Angeles until a couple of bank robbers decided to start shooting citizens and Gabe caught a bullet in his knee. He’d retired and moved out to Lake Elsinore, opening Pulizzi’s Security and Investigating Services. Gabe moved in a dangerous world with the ease of James Bond.
I sort of tumbled into trouble going grocery shopping.
I should have known that Gabe caught every word I said to Chad on the phone in my office. His radar told him something was going on. “That was Chad Tuggle. His ex-wife asked me to check into something so I went to his office today. He apparently got the wrong idea.”
“That happens to you a lot.”
Blaine snorted.
I turned to glare at my assistant, but he busied himself rearranging the clipboard interview sheets we used for new clients. Looking back at Gabe, I gave in and told him the whole story.
His gaze riveted on me while one hand rubbed a bare shoulder. “You want to do this, babe?”
“Yes.”
“All right. But you report to me, got it? If this guy really is embezzling, he could be dangerous. You be careful.”
That easy? It took my breath away how much Gabe believed in me. “Okay. But Gabe, I’ve known Chad for years. He’s not dangerous.”
“You weren’t looking for anything that might threaten him then, Sam. Now you are.”
Touché. “I see your point. Okay, I’ll be careful.”
His mouth curved, and he lifted a hand off my shoulder to touch my hair. “So that’s whipped cream in your hair, huh? Only you could make it look sexy.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Later.”
I stood there watching him walk out of Heart Mates and to his truck where his mother waited. Did his mother know that I was five years older than Gabe, and had two sons? What would she think of that? And worse, what the heck was a thirty-something professional woman doing worrying about what her boyfriend’s mother thinks?
“Boss, you have a client waiting.”
I turned and looked at Blaine. “Right. I just have to make a quick call.” I ran into my office and picked up the phone. While dialing Janie’s phone number, I searched the top of my desk and found Roxy’s file.
“Hello?”
“Janie, it’s good you’re home. I went to Chad’s office and got the disk. When would be a good time to take a look at it?”
“You did it? Okay, well, I have to run back to work now, but how about after school? I’ll get Mark and Kelly to their practices, then come by your house at four-thirty. How’s
that?”
“Four-thirty at my house is fine. See you then.” I hung up and rushed back out to the reception room.
Blaine held out two filled coffee cups and a couple of packages of fake sweetener for Roxy. “What are you going to do about Roxanne?”
I took a sip of one of the coffees and pulled my thoughts together. Roxy was a full-sized beauty. A couple of years ago she got tired of the whole diet thing. She made herself over with regular workouts, a good haircut, nice makeup, and new clothes, then sent her portfolio into some agents. She now had a blossoming career as a model. But I was worried about her. Roxy was desperately seeking love. She was a successful, intelligent woman, as well as beautiful, but she was looking for something in a man that I couldn’t pin down. It frustrated me.
Every date was a disaster that left her devastated. But her professional life was flawless.
I said, “I’ll talk to her. She keeps picking pretty boys who want to date a model and show off.”
Since my hands were full of the coffee cups and Roxy’s file, Blaine silently opened the door for me. I went in, determined to help Roxy see that she didn’t have to prove anything to the town by dating good-looking shallow guys.
Roxy was bent over a photo album. She looked up, her eyes shining. “Sam! How about this guy? He’s into sushi, designer clothes, and upscale restaurants.”
I set down the coffees and file, and looked at the still shot picture. A groan choked up my throat. Damn, another pretty boy. “Roxy,” I sat down and pushed her coffee and the sweeteners toward her. “Tell me what happened last night.”
She picked up the sweetener and tore it open. “At first it was fine. We had a nice dinner and went to play miniature golf. He kept looking around, but I didn’t think too much of it until he practically jumped on me.”
I groaned.
She stirred the sugar in her coffee and wiped fresh tears away. “It turns out his friends bet him that he couldn’t get a date with me. They were waiting at the end of the golf course for him to prove he could bag the fat model.”
“Dammit.” I concentrated on making notes on Roxy’s file while fighting the raw anger rushing through me. The guy from last night was going to be removed from our list. I put down my pen and took Roxy’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Roxy. You deserve better than that.” I took a breath. “You know, Roxy, finding a man isn’t like finding your career.”
She smiled. “You mean I’m too aggressive?”
I shook my head. “God, no. I mean that you are a goal-oriented person, which works well in your professional life. But in love, it doesn’t work that way. You can’t just set a goal of finding a man who is compatible with you and expect it to happen on schedule. And you have to factor in your rising visibility from your modeling career.”
She looked up. “Sam, that’s why I chose to come to your dating service. I don’t want anything to do with the users that LA breeds. I want to find someone to share my life with. Someone who will stay with me for the long haul.”
“I know.” Roxy never knew who her father was—we both had that in common. Then her mom had died when she was ten and she came to Lake Elsinore to live with her Uncle Duncan. Duncan adored Roxy, but her childhood had left its mark. I couldn’t grasp why she gravitated to the upscale pretty boys. What was it? I kept trying to lead her to the solid men that would give her the love and security she wanted. “Look Roxy, why don’t you let Blaine and me run some profiles while you take a break from dating, okay?”
Roxy looked back down at the photo album. “What about this Kevin? He looks smart, and he’s a financial consultant.”
He looked like he should be on a billboard for Calvin Klein underwear. “Roxy, a financial consultant might have ulterior motives with you. You make a lot of money now. Besides, it says here that he drives limos, too. I don’t think the financial consultant thing is working out.” I sure as hell wouldn’t take financial advice from someone who drove limos.
Roxy’s beautiful eyes sharpened. “Sam, you know better than that. I have an agent and financial advisors.”
True. Roxy was sharp in her career. She was professional and never broke down in tears while on a shoot. It was her personal life that cut her to the heart. I didn’t think this was the man for her. In my opinion, Kevin was a nice guy who simply lacked enough success of his own and emotional maturity to handle Roxy’s success.
“Can you just see if he’s interested in a date, Sam? I only have a week before my next shoot.”
I sighed. “All right, I’ll call him. When do you want to meet him?”
She smiled. “Tonight.”
Blaine and I closed up the office a little after four. We had snagged Roxy a date for drinks with Kevin tonight and worked at redesigning Roxy’s profile to run a new set of matches.
I waved at Blaine and got in my car, hoping he wouldn’t do anything stupid. I’d seen the dark look in his normally placid brown eyes when I’d told him of Roxy’s experience with her date last night.
By the time I got home, I was tired. Pulling into the dirt road at exactly four-thirty, I saw Janie’s car parked next to Grandpa’s Jeep. I had hoped for a few minutes to change clothes and settle down.
I walked through the empty living room to the small dining room, which was nestled into the corner at a right angle to the long kitchen. Grandpa and Janie were at the table drinking iced tea. I put my purse down. “Hi, Janie, sorry I’m late.” I turned to Grandpa and kissed his balding head. “Hi, Grandpa. Where are the boys?”
He waved to the sliding glass window. “Playing with Ali.”
I looked out to the backyard to see the boys and our big German shepherd. TJ and Joel were playing keep-away with Ali’s tennis ball on the big round trampoline. Ali apparently thought this was a terrific game.
Grandpa got up. “Want some iced tea, Sam?” He moved into the kitchen. “Janie was telling me that she’s hired you.”
“I’d love some iced tea.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, then watched Grandpa get down a glass and open the fridge to pull out the tea. It didn’t surprise me that he’d gotten Janie to tell him what she was doing. Grandpa was a retired magician, a pro at getting people to do or believe what he wished them to.
Since retiring, he’d turned into a big gossip and an Internet junkie. The boys and I adored him. We’d moved in with Grandpa after Trent died and we’d found out we were broke.
Janie got my attention. “Sam, weren’t you wearing another shirt this morning?”
I looked down at my camisole. I’d been so busy today that I’d forgotten about it. “Yes, I had a little accident.” Standing up, I dug through my purse and found the disk. “Here’s the disk of the SCOLE books. Let me go change and we’ll take a look at it.” I put the disk down on the table and hurried to my bedroom.
I traded my skirt for a pair of jeans, added a black sweater over the camisole, and dragged a quick brush through my hair. Then I rushed back out to the dining room.
Grandpa was at his computer on the big rolltop desk right next to the dining room table. Janie had pulled up a chair next to him. They had already opened up the disk.
Leaning over Janie at the computer, I saw the same files I’d seen at Chad’s office. “So? Are you finding anything?”
Janie pulled a calculator out of her purse and swiftly started adding up columns.
Finally, she sighed and sat back in the chair. Her shoulders slumped beneath her pink sweatshirt. “It’s all there.”
Frowning, I stared at the computer over her shoulder. Disappointment warred with relief. I wanted to get this right. On the one hand, being involved in exposing the hero soccer coach as an embezzler was not going to make me the best-loved businesswoman in town. On the other hand, if Chad really was embezzling, he deserved to be exposed. But Janie had seemed so certain. And watching her work the numbers in the SCOLE files, I believed she knew what she was doing. “You sure? I mean, you seemed so certain Chad was embezzling.”
Janie looked over her should
er at me. “I’m sure it’s all correct in the books, but I don’t know if the money that’s supposed to be in the bank account actually is. Chad can write down anything he wants in the books. But is the money shown in the books really in the bank? No one ever questions Chad, you know.”
Two things struck me at once. First, she was right—the money could be missing from the actual account. I hadn’t thought of that. But the last comment struck me deeper. No one ever questions Chad.
Including Janie? Was Janie scared? Is that why she had come to me? Was Janie telling me the whole truth? Gabe had told me once that clients tended to only tell us what they think we needed to know. I’d learned the hard way that secrets can be dangerous. I sure didn’t know anything about getting bank records. “Uh, Janie do you know if anyone else is on the account? Maybe someone we can trust?”
She shook her head, her gaze on the computer screen. “No, I think it’s just Chad.”
“But that’s—”
She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at me. “No one questions him, Sam. He’s the hero coach.”
Jeez. “Okay, let me talk to Gabe. He might know a way to find out how much money is in the bank account.” I didn’t know what else to do. And Gabe had warned me to report to him. I wasn’t about to try messing with a bank.
Grandpa broke in, “I could find out for you.”
“No!” I said immediately. Grandpa belonged to a group called the Multinational Magic Makers, or the Triple M for short. They were a worldwide network of magicians, and through them, Grandpa often got access to inaccessible places.
Bent over the keys, he typed with amazing speed. Years of magic had kept his fingers limber. “I bet I can get in there within a few minutes.”
“Grandpa! That’s probably like a federal offense! The Secret Service once raided a school for making counterfeit money! Do you want to go to prison?”
He laughed. “No prison could hold me, Sammy! I can escape from anywhere.”
God, Gabe would kill me. I was supposed to be conducting this investigation under his direction. Not breaking into bank records via the Internet.
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