Reluctantly in Love

by Niecey Roy

  “Hey, do you and Leo want to come over for dinner?” I asked. “I bought all the stuff to make his favorite pasta.”

  “Ooh, is this a double date?” Lexie said, and waggled her eyebrows at me.

  “Don’t do that.” I shook my head. “You look ridiculous.”

  “You do it all the time,” she said.

  “Yes, well, it’s my thing.” I waggled my eyebrows. “See? I make it look good.”

  “Yeah, we’ll come over. What’s the occasion if it’s not a double date?”

  “It’s dinner. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked for anyone. I’m out of practice.”

  “And you would like to be in practice now?” She waggled her eyebrows at me again.

  “Knock that off. You’re ruining it for me.” I turned my attention to my phone and Chase’s new message. “And whatever it is you’re trying to get me to say, you might as well stop. You know it’s not like that. We’re just hanging out.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re hanging out.”

  “You are not allowed to get pervy.” My phone rang and Beverly’s name flashed on the display. I stood and said, “Just be there around seven. We’ll eat and then have a few drinks. And then I’m kicking you out so I can hang out—” I waggled my eyebrows, “—with Chase.”

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  “Did you see how I did that? You can practice after I leave.” I held up my phone. “I need to take this. See you later.”

  I clicked to answer. “Hi, Beverly.”

  “Roxanna? There is no need to investigate Pretzel’s disappearance any longer. She’s home!” Her voice shook with emotion while the gears in my head clicked into place to catch up with her. “Can you believe it? It’s a miracle!”

  “Yeah, it really is,” I said in wonder. To be honest, I’d begun to think Pretzels was gone for good. After installing the video camera to capture activity on the back patio, there’d been no sign of a prowler, no alien sightings, nothing. And then, out of the blue, a month after Pretzels’ disappearance, she reappears?

  “I’m just so happy.”

  “Who brought her back?” I asked. “Did you pay the reward?”

  “Matthew brought her back. Someone showed up at his house with her this afternoon and he came straight here. He paid the reward with his own money.”

  “That was kind of him. Is he still there?”

  “Yes, he is. He’s staying for supper.”

  “You know, I think I’ll swing by real quick on my way home. I’d love to see Pretzels in person. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” Before I hung up, I said, “I’m really happy she’s home, Beverly. I was really worried about her.”

  “Me too, dear.”

  I hung up, my lips pursed in thought.

  “What’s wrong?” Lexie asked.

  “My missing cat just turned up.” I dug my wallet out of my purse. “Convenient. He’s been avoiding my calls for the last few weeks. Supposedly his schedule didn’t allow for a short meeting to discuss his stepmom’s case.”

  “Sounds like a jerk.” She took the credit card I handed her.

  I unraveled the scarf from my neck so she could scan the price tag. “Tell me about it. The guy is a louse. I don’t trust him, not one bit.”

  “Do you want me to put the shawl in a bag?”

  I shook my head. “Nah, don’t waste a bag on me.”

  She handed me the shawl and my card. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Yeah, sounds good,” I said over my shoulder, already on my way out the door.

  I’d gotten into the habit of entering Beverly’s home through the back patio door. That’s where all the activity was centered. Today, though, I knocked at the front.

  Beverly opened the door. For the first time since she walked through LM Security’s door, her smile was radiant. “Come in and meet Pretzels, Roxanna.”

  Matthew Garrett looked up from where he sat on the couch. He commenced a lingering perusal, chest, hips, all the way down to my toes before reversing his examination and meeting my gaze. It took everything I had not to give him the bird. His smile was as I remembered—slick, toothy, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “You must be Ms. Moss, the private investigator.” He stood and offered me his hand. I held back a quiver of revulsion when his hand closed around mine. “It’s nice to meet you in person finally.”

  “Yes, finally. I’ve been calling your office for weeks now.” I studied his gaze for the slightest reaction, a flicker of guilt, anything. All I got was a grin that grated on my nerves.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that. I’m a very busy man.” He gestured to Pretzels. “And now it looks like there’s no reason for us to speak in the future, as Pretzels is home. A pity for that.” His laughter boomed through the house. “About not having a reason to speak to you—not a pity that Pretzels is home, of course.”

  “Of course.” My smile didn’t reach my eyes—Matthew Garrett wasn’t any more likeable in person than through a pair of binoculars. I had no idea what the women in his life saw in him. He was handsome enough, his dark chestnut hair peppered at the temples and sideburns with grey. The suit he wore fit him well, tailored to his tall frame. He was one of those guys who probably spent a lot of time at the gym, eyeing the women like prey.

  Pretzels lay sprawled on the loveseat, licking her paw. She was even more stunning in person than in all the photographs, her black spots and stripes vibrant on her coat. She gazed at me with yellow eyes.

  “I hear you’re the hero of the day.” I took the chair across from the couch.

  He crossed his legs and threw an arm over the back of the couch. “I think the real hero here is Pretzels.”

  I raised my brows. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  Beverly sat down beside Pretzels and the cat snuggled into her side. As big as she was, having her as a lap cat might have been uncomfortable. Beverly scratched under Pretzels’ chin and said, “It’s as if she were never gone. She came right in and found her favorite spot on this couch.” She looked up at me with a smile. “I’m so happy she was found by a good family who took care of her.”

  “Yes, she was very lucky,” I said with an eye on Matthew. “Did you pay this person the reward?”

  “Of course. Beverly reimbursed me.”

  “Yes, the reward was well worth it. They might not have returned her if not for the reward.”

  “I’m curious, why did it take them so long to return her?” I cocked my head and peered at Matthew. “And how is it they thought to return the cat to you and not to Beverly herself, as was on the flyer?”

  “That’s an interesting story.” Matthew flashed the smile that made my stomach queasy.

  I bet it’s interesting.

  “The family who found Pretzels didn’t realize there was a reward. They kept her, took her into their home as a pet. A friend came to their home and recognized her from a flyer he’d seen. He knew Beverly was my father’s widow, and brought Pretzels to me at Garrett Properties.”

  “That’s . . . remarkable.” And convenient. “Who was this man?”

  His smile faltered and his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t happen to get a last name. Paul was his first name, I believe.”

  “Did you record it on your check register?” I asked.

  Beverly’s hand stilled to rest on Pretzels’ back. “I think I would like to talk to this person, perhaps also send the family a gift basket for their honesty.”

  “I paid the man in cash.”

  I cocked my head, my brow furrowed. “That’s quite a large sum of money to pay with cash.”

  “I keep that kind of money in the safe. For emergencies. There really wasn’t any need to write a check.” He laughed and held up his hands. “I suppose if I had been thinking on my toes I would have gotten more information from him. Finding Pretzels alive and well honestly blew me over.”

  I stood; my smile felt like plastic. “Well, Beverly is very lucky to have you in her l
ife, Matthew.” Kneeling before the cat, I said, “I’m so happy to see Pretzels home.”

  I scratched the cat behind her ears then brushed a hand along her side. Her purr vibrated through my hand. “Matthew, could I talk to you outside quickly before I leave?”

  “Certainly.” He followed me out onto the front porch.

  I turned to face him. “Thanks for your time.”

  His brow furrowed and he let out a labored sigh. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that this is all over. I’ve been so worried about Beverly.”

  He seemed sincere. He even sounded like someone who was worried about his elderly stepmom. The frown tugging at his lips dripped concern. Maybe his only involvement in Pretzels’ disappearance was in him not being cooperative and returning my phone calls. Maybe he was just a busy man who hadn’t taken a private investigator seriously. That didn’t make him guilty; it just made him a prick. But I didn’t buy it. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the bad guy in this bizarre story.

  “I’m sure she’s just had a rough couple of weeks with Pretzels gone. I would be distraught if my pet went missing too.”

  “Yes. She was a gift from my father.”

  “Well, I’m glad you were able to bring Pretzels home. It’s a relief to see Beverly so happy.” I glanced to the living room window, but the shades were drawn so I couldn’t see inside.

  “Yes, well, she’s all the family I have left.” And there it was again, the underlying tone of feigned sincerity. Maybe it was my imagination, but I didn’t think so.

  “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “I must admit, these claims of a prowler have been very concerning.” The frown was back, his brow troubled.

  “You don’t believe the prowler was real?”

  He pressed his lips together for a moment before responding. “She was certain someone broke in to steal Pretzels. She must have left the door open and Pretzels slipped outside. This could be an early sign of dementia or Alzheimer’s. I’ll have to keep a close eye on her.”

  He didn’t know about the shoe print we found, and I kept the detail to myself. I didn’t trust his sincerity, and I didn’t like what he was insinuating. Also, his story was off. It made no sense to me why a person would return the cat anywhere but the address printed on the flyers, which was LM Security. It was all too convenient. If I paid fifteen thousand dollars cash to a stranger, I’d have thought to record his name somewhere.

  “I’ve spoken to her on several occasions. Other than her being distraught over her pet missing, she seems healthy to me.”

  He raked a hand through his dark hair then patted the locks into place. “But a prowler coming around, harassing her in the middle of the night? I find it odd that no one has been caught, that the police haven’t found any evidence of a prowler, or an intruder.”

  “Yes, and yet Pretzels just—poof—disappeared.” I had a hard time keeping the distrust out of my voice.

  His phone dinged and he reached into his pocket for it. As he read the display, he said, “I’m not sure what happened to her cat. I think she must have left the door open. Like I said, I’m worried about her.”

  “And you’re worried about her mental health.” It wasn’t a question—he’d been beating around this point from the beginning of our conversation.

  He perked up at my comment. “I am. Hearing things, seeing things, forgetting to shut and lock her doors, calling in reports to the police in the middle of the night . . .” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirked. “You’ve spoken with her. How would you assess her mental health?”

  Well, there was the alien in a thong sighting . . .

  “I find her to be a very candid and straightforward woman,” I said.

  “I’m curious about what she’s told you, Ms. Moss. Has she said anything that seemed strange that would make you question her . . . state of mind?” He leaned against the porch beam and slid his hands into his pants pockets. “What kind of details did she give you about this prowler?”

  An alarm went off in my head—he was fishing for something.

  “She didn’t see the prowler,” I lied. “I really didn’t have much to work with.”

  “Nothing?” His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his neck twitched. “She didn’t see anything at all?”

  “No” I met his gaze head on—he didn’t believe me. “It’s unfortunate too. If she had gotten a glimpse of whoever has been taunting her, perhaps the case could have been solved sooner. But, I suppose none of that matters now that Pretzels is home.”

  “Yes, it really is a miracle.” His cell phone beeped again, but this time he ignored it. “And now I suppose there’s nothing left for you to do here. We’ll pay you for your time, of course.”

  “That’s generous of you.” I stood. “I’ll work the details out with Beverly.”

  He walked me to my vehicle parked at the street curb. His red sports car was only a few feet away, parked in the driveway.

  I hated the niggling feeling that this story wasn’t over, that I had to walk away without closure. I paused beside my vehicle and smiled up at him, turning on the charm. “It’s really too bad we didn’t have a chance to talk before this, Mr. Garrett. I was so interested in you and Garrett Properties. I admit I was a little star struck when I found out who you were and that the Garrett Mansion is your legacy.”

  He drew to his full height. “Yes, well, that seems to be a popular reaction when people discover who I am.”

  I laughed and landed a playful swat to his arm. “I bet.” Batting my eyelashes, I asked, “Garrett Properties is a big deal. What’s your position there?”

  I already knew the answer. Over the last week, I’d been doing nothing but obsessing over his background investigation, his financials, every shred of information, hoping to scrounge up something incriminating. I knew how he took his coffee, that he liked to order in deli sandwiches for lunch if he didn’t have a lunch date, and that he had a lot of credit cards, but not as many as his wife. None of them were maxed out.

  His eyes hardened. “Property Manager.”

  Okay, then. He’s not happy with his tiny title. I’d struck a chord; I could see it in his eyes. Being an heir to a fortune wasn’t enough, after all.

  “Oh, wow.” I drew the words out and widened my eyes. “That must be a huge responsibility with so much real estate.”

  “It is.” His words were short, his tone sharp.

  “And you manage all Garrett Properties real estate?”

  “Most,” he lied.

  According to his business profile and public company information, Matthew Garrett, heir to the Garrett fortune, was not an executive officer, not even a member of the board, and had been given the title Property Manager of only a few real estate listings within the city of Lincoln. There were three other property management branches in the United States, including one corporate office with an Omaha address. Garrett Properties owned hotels in all major tourist cities in the United States, so I had to question why he’d been tasked with managing a small percentage of the company’s less lucrative properties.

  Matthew Garrett was clearly not happy about it, either.

  “Well, Mr. Garrett, I’ve taken up enough time in your day.”

  He took my hand, then placed his other hand on top to sandwich mine between his. “It was nice to finally meet you. Again, I apologize. I’m also sorry you were dragged into this mess with the cat. I really do fear we might be dealing with an aging woman with deteriorating mental health.”

  My smile felt like plastic on my lips. I tugged my hand free and made a show of reaching into my purse. Producing a business card, I said, “Well, please let me know if you find the name of the man who returned Pretzels. I’d love to question him and the family who found Pretzels. Just to cover all my bases and make sure the case really is closed.”

  “Of course.” He pocketed the card without reading it. Without his professional position on topic, his smile was back. “You can also have the video camera
out back removed, now that there’s no need for it.”

  Opening my vehicle door and sliding in, I said, “I’ll send someone out first thing tomorrow.”

  He waved acknowledgement as he turned away. I sat inside my vehicle and turned on my tablet while Matthew backtracked to his sports car and sped off toward the retirement community gates. I didn’t follow. While I attached the keyboard, my mind worked through the facts of the case. I needed to type up everything that’d happened in the last twenty-four hours since my last case update. Now that it was closed I’d have to present my final report to Leo. Even if it doesn’t feel closed.

  Frustrated, I pecked out the report.

  Every few minutes, I glanced up at Beverly’s house. She deserved the truth, and my gut told me this . . . this—this crap!—wasn’t the truth. Pretzels was home, but the story wasn’t finished.

  There’s something bigger going on and it’s not aliens or Beverly going loony.

  I turned the key and pulled away from the curb. It was true that I could be a little obsessive when I couldn’t figure something out. But when I found a puzzle, it was hard for me to put it down until it was solved.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The brush of Chase’s lips against the small of my back sent shivers up my spine. The warmth of his breath tickled my nerve-endings with each butterfly-soft kiss.

  “Knock it off.” My words lacked conviction. I wanted his mouth on me and he knew it. His lips grazed the dip at the small of my back and my toes curled. My words breathy, I said, “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “I’m feeling neglected.” The next kiss was pressed to my shoulder where my oversized sweat shirt hung loose. “You never spend time with me. I feel like I’m just a piece of meat to you. ” He topped his comment off with a dramatic sigh.

  “A super hot piece of meat.” Smiling, I rolled to my back. As always, the piercing blue of his eyes made me suck in a breath of wonder when his gaze connected with mine.