CHAPTER TWO
It was only two in the afternoon, but O’Reilly’s was rocking. Andi pointed to the two empty stools at the end of the bar. “Grab those before they disappear. I’ll order and be right with you.”
Squeezing in between two college students, she waved at Patrick O’Reilly. “How’s it going, Patty?”
“Carter, what brings you in so early in the day, lassie? But before you answer that, what can I get for you?”
“Give me a beer, and something mild for my friend at the end.” Andi nodded toward Shamus. “He just turned twenty-one, and I think the lad’s a virgin.”
Patrick studied the young man sitting uncomfortably at the end of the bar. “Surely not? The boy looks Irish, and no decent Irishman would stay sober for twenty-one years. I’ll pour him a nice Irish red.”
“Thanks, Patty.”
He placed the drinks in front of her, and Andi immediately picked hers up and downed half of it. “How about another?”
Patrick shook his head and grinned. “Are you sure you don’t have Irish blood in those veins of yours?” He grabbed another glass, filled it, and slid it across the bar.
Andi let her gaze drift around the room before guzzling the second half of her beer. “Sadly, no Irish blood, Patty.” Pulling a twenty from her pocket, she passed it to him. “Keep them coming until that runs out.” She winked at him. “Or you have to throw me out.”
“Now that would be a sight to see. But I will keep an eye on your young friend. If it truly is his first, he may get rowdy once the fire hits his blood.”
Andi picked up the drinks. “More likely to vomit all over your shiny floor.” She made her way to the barstool, stopping occasionally to answer the shouted greetings of other patrons. She put a glass in front of Shamus and raised hers. “Drink up, Irish, it’s your birthday.” She pretended not to watch as he picked up the drink. He’d clearly watched her earlier and tried to down it. In seconds, he was coughing and sputtering, his complexion turning an unhealthy shade of red. She slapped him on the back and handed him a napkin. “I’ll make a man out of you yet.” The lost-puppy look in his watery blue eyes provoked a moment of remorse. Why do I always have to be such a bitch?
She nodded toward a booth that had just emptied. “Let’s grab a seat, and I’ll buy you a sandwich.”
They moved over to the booth. Andi waited until they were seated then pointed at his glass. “It’s an acquired taste. Drink it slow.” Catching Patrick’s eye, she held up a finger then mimed eating a sandwich. He nodded.
“You must spend a lot of time here,” Shamus remarked, dabbing at the ale on his shirt. “You’re well-known.”
“One of the last holdouts on the no-smoking law.” Andi sighed and sipped her beer. “Unfortunately, Patty had to give in when the fines started adding up. A beer just isn’t as good without a cigarette.”
“Been meaning to ask you about that. Smoking has been outlawed pretty much everywhere. Aren’t you worried about Sinclair getting in trouble if someone turns you in?”
“Jeez, Irish, I only smoke one a day at the office after lunch, and who would turn me in?”
Shamus shrugged. “There’s always one in every crowd.”
“Randy? Did that little twerp say something to you?”
“I just don’ think you should smoke in the office for a while.” Shamus picked up his glass and took a small sip. “Better to be safe than sorry, me mum always says.”
Patrick delivered two corned beef sandwiches and another beer for Andi. “So how’s your first ale, son?”
“Good, sir.”
Patrick’s booming laugh filled the bar, and heads turned with faces smiling. “You picked the right place to pop your cherry.” He nodded toward Andi. “But don’t try to out-drink this one, lad. She’s like a bottomless pit.”
Andi picked up her new beer and took a glug. “There’s a serious lack of our local boys and girls in blue, Patty. Any good gossip floating around?”
“Aye, all are off investigating that banker’s death. Someone shoved a knife in his fat belly and gutted him like a pig.”
She noted the twinkle in Patrick’s eye and pulled out her notebook. He loved to gossip, and usually had a wealth of information otherwise known only by the police. “Got a name?”
“Jared Barnsworth.”
Shamus opened his mouth to say something, and Andi kicked him under the table. “Odd I haven’t heard anything about it.” Andi jotted down the name. “So where did they find him?”
Holding a cloth, Patrick leaned over the table and wiped at imaginary dirt as he whispered, “That’s the beauty of it, lass, and this is on the hush-hush. They found him at the Spare Time Motel over on Cornwash.”
Andi closed her notebook and drained her beer before giving Patrick a kiss on the cheek. “You’re an angel, Patrick O’Reilly.” She wrapped her sandwich in a napkin. “Drink up, Irish. We’ve got places to go and stories to write.”
Shamus glanced at the almost-full glass. “Don’ suppose you have a to-go cup?”
Patrick shook his head as Andi rushed toward the door. “Best get a move on, lad. When she gets like this, no one can stop her.”
Shamus followed her to the car.
Andi fastened her seatbelt as he slid into the passenger seat. “Maybe you should go back to the office, or home. This could get a bit nasty if the cops catch me snooping.”
Shamus clicked on his belt. “Sherlock had his Watson.”
Andi pulled into traffic and chuckled. “Yeah, and Samson had his Delilah. Don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.”
“Isn’t this Barnsworth yoke a friend of the mayor? And what’s so strange about the Spare Time Motel?”
“I’d say Barnsworth is the mayor’s best friend, and the Spare Time is where all the local girls take their clients.”
“I don’ think Sinclair is gonna be very happy if our first crime article exposes the best friend of his brother-in-law in prostitution.”
Andi turned onto a side street near the motel and pulled to the end. “He doesn’t like the mayor, so he’ll probably be thrilled. We’ll walk from here. Got your cell phone with you?”
Shamus nodded and pulled it out.
“Good, take lots of pictures and email them to me.”
“Pictures of what?”
Andi pointed to where several police officers were evicting the occupants of the shady motel. “That.” She shot him a wary look as she strolled toward the motel. “Stay out of sight, and don’t get caught unless you never want to see that cell phone again.”
A long-legged, somewhat voluptuous brunette was in a scuffle with a well-dressed detective. Andi recognized her as one of Stuart Gambini’s new girls. In fact, she was his top model and escort. So what is she doing here in this dive? Andi racked her brain for a name. Jasmine. They’d met and talked briefly at the mayor’s political dinner. It must be my lucky day. The detective turned, and her feet stopped in mid-stride. Crap, so much for it being my lucky day. What the hell is he doing here? She shook off the emotions—and the memories the sight of Jerry Palano threatened to evoke—and concentrated on the woman.
She ducked beneath the crime scene tape and had almost reached the front parking lot when an officer stepped in front of her. “Sorry, ma’am. The motel is closed.”
“What’s going on”—Andi glanced at his badge—“Officer Grange?”
Palano turned toward them, his face registering recognition as well as something Andi couldn’t quite decipher. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing, Carter?” He turned his glare on Grange. “Get her off the premises.”
Officer Grange grabbed her arm and forcefully moved her toward the crime tape. “You heard him. Get off the premises.”
Andi jerked free. “No need to get nasty about it, Grange. I’m going.” She fought the urge to run as she walked to where Shamus was waiting for her, turning around occasionally to keep an eye on the direction Jasmine was going. If Irish missed that, I’ll kill him.
<
br /> “Tell me you got the officer shoving me?” Andi walked quickly toward the car.
Shamus pulled up a picture and grinned. “So I suppose our headline is gonna be police brutality?”
“I think I love you, Irish.” She hopped behind the wheel and started the car. “I have a much better headline than that.”
“So where are we going now?”
Andi nodded to where Jasmine had parked her body in a seductive pose against a brick wall. “Give me a twenty.”
“What for?” Shamus reached for his billfold and passed her the bill.
“We’re going to buy a little information.” Andi pulled to the curb and rolled down her window, holding out the twenty. “Ten minutes of your time, Jasmine, for a twenty and a brew?”
Jasmine pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her. She took the twenty and stashed it between her ample breasts. “We can skip the brew, but I’ll give you twenty minutes of my time if you buy me a sandwich.”
Andi nodded toward the back seat. “You got a deal.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jasmine took the opportunity to study the two across from her as she bit into the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. The heightened color in Andi’s cheeks and subtle tremble of her hands wrapped around the coffee cup were clear indications that running into Jerry Palano had upset her more than she was willing to admit. Surely, she’s not still in love with him after all this time.
“Shamus, run to the office and bring back my laptop. Tell Sinclair to wait for us. We’ve got a story.” Andi passed her keys to Shamus and pulled a notepad and pen from her purse. “We should be finished by the time you get back.”
Jasmine wiped her lips on the napkin and smiled as the door closed behind Shamus. “Thank you, Miss Carter. He did seem a little flustered by the glances being thrown our way.”
“Please, call me Andi, and don’t hold it against him. He’s still young. And just for the record, I don’t judge people by the way they dress or their professions.”
“That’s apparent.” Jasmine took a moment to admire the lush atmosphere of Tandy’s Bar and Grill. Most of the female patrons were wearing casual business suits and heels. Without Andi’s presence, she would never have been allowed through the doors dressed the way she was. “You didn’t have to bring me here.”
Andi’s back straightened, and her chin jutted forward. “If you dug deep enough, you’d find every single person in here has something in their background they’re hiding. They have no right to judge you or anyone else.”
Jasmine took a sip of water, her admiration for Andi growing by the minute. She knew most of Andi’s hidden background from Stuart and the rest from agency files. Few people could have gone through the hell Andi had experienced at the hands of Richard Thomas and remained sane. Becoming friends with Andi was dangerous, especially now that she knew Jerry Palano was in town, but Andi could be the ally Jasmine needed to find Mollie. “So, what did you want to ask me?”
“What happened at the motel?”
“I didn’t see anything, but I did overhear two of the cops talking. They were standing guard at the room next to mine. A man’s body was discovered there.”
Andi’s pen was poised over the notepad. “Please tell me you heard a name.”
“Jared Barnsworth.”
“Hot damn.” Andi’s excitement was tangible as her pen scribbled page after page of notes.
Jasmine laughed softly. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy.”
“I’ve been waiting five years to write something that had some grit to it, and this is it.”
“Why so long?” Jasmine regretted the question as soon as she asked it. Andi’s face paled, and for just a moment her eyes teared up. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” Andi took a sip of coffee. “I was an investigative reporter for a major newspaper when…” Her voice faltered and she gulped. “To make a long story short, something bad happened and I spent some time in a mental institution. After that, no decent paper would hire me, so I’ve been writing social media drivel and local politics for the last five years.”
Jasmine reached across the table and covered Andi’s trembling hands with her own. “Remember what you said to me? No one has a right to judge you, either. If you need anything at all, call me.”
Andi nodded and whispered, “Well, I do need one more thing for Shamus. Some quote along the professional line maybe?”
“I’d finally found myself a good tipper, but they threw us out before I could even get his pants down.”
The door opened, and Shamus walked in.
~ ~ ~
“Aren’t you done yet?” Andi glanced nervously at Shamus, still perusing the article she’d just finished. “Sinclair is going to burst through that door any minute and tell us to forget it, he’s missing his dinner, and we’re holding up production.”
Shamus sat back in his chair and grinned broadly.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think you should ask for a feckin’ raise. It’s damn brilliant.”
“Email it to Sinclair, and let’s hope he thinks so.” She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out slowly. Her nerves were on edge, and she tapped her foot in time to “How Do You Like Me Now?” as she waited for Sinclair’s verdict. Most of what she’d written was innuendo, spiced with a bit of drama, alongside the picture of Officer Grange shoving her off the premises. He hadn’t really shoved her, of course, but a picture is worth a million words, and that’s exactly how it looked. And he was a complete ass about it. The headline would pull them in, and the innuendo and drama would bring them back for more. She’d never actually said Barnsworth’s body was found at the motel, but most people liked to read between the lines. She’d saved that juicy tidbit for Jasmine’s article, which she would write the next day.
Sinclair’s door opened, and he walked out slowly. His lips parted in what served as a smile, but could easily have been interpreted as a sneer. “You got a follow-up to this?”
“Enough for at least a week.”
“Well, then congrats, Carter. You’re a headliner.”
Andi leaned back in her chair and placed her feet on the desk while Shamus pranced and punched the air. She stared at the computer screen and puffed on the cigarette in satisfaction. The headline blazed out at her: Banker’s Death Shrouded in Mystery.
“Care for another brew, Irish, before we call it a night?” Andi lowered her feet to the floor and turned off her computer.
Shamus shook his head. “Promised me mum I’d be home for supper. You should be careful. That black-haired cop looked mad as hell.”
Andi stubbed out the cigarette. “I thought all you Irish boys were brawlers, tough enough to wipe up the floor with anyone out there.”
“That would be me brothers. I took after Mum, a wee lass who wouldn’t hurt a fly. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.” She let him reach the door. “Shamus?”
He turned, raising an eyebrow as a light flush crept up his neck. “Aye?”
“You did good today. Happy birthday, partner.”
His head bobbed, and the flush deepened. “Screw you, Carter.”
Andi continued to stare into space long after Shamus had left, something niggling at the back of her mind. “Ah, shit, why not. The kid deserves it.” She picked up the phone and called the production department. “Andi Carter, Joe,” she said when the man answered. “Have you started printing yet?”
“Just got the layout done. Don’t tell me you want to change something because Sinclair has already left.”
“Just a little change, Joe. Please.”
She heard his long, drawn-out sigh. “What do you want to change?”
“The byline. Make it Andi Carter and Shamus O’Conner.”
“All right, but if Sinclair says anything, I’m sending him to you.”
“You do that, Joe.”
Andi hung up the pho
ne and headed for the door. She would stop by O’Reilly’s and tell Patty the news. For the first time in a long time, she felt good about her job and was leaving with a sense of pride, not depression. She might not be writing for the Tribune anymore, but after they read the morning edition they were going to wish she was.
Traffic was light, and she made it to the bar in fifteen minutes. A car pulled away from the curb, and Andi slid her vehicle into the spot. Maybe it’s my lucky day after all.
“Carter!” Patrick greeted her from behind the bar.
Andi smiled but froze as Jerry Palano turned on his barstool. His gaze traveled from her disheveled blond hair to the tips of her scuffed and dusty shoes. He raised an eyebrow, nodded, and returned to his beer. Bastard.
Andi plopped onto the stool next to Jerry and rubbed her arm. “Give me a beer, Patty.”
“Something wrong with your arm, lass?” Patrick set a full glass in front of her.
“Some brute manhandled me today. It’s probably just bruised.”
Jerry’s back straightened. “You shouldn’t have been there, Andi. You know better than to cross crime tape.”
She sipped her beer, her instincts screaming at her to guzzle and run. I’m not running anymore. “Maybe, but Grange didn’t have to use such excessive force. So what brings you to our fair city?”
Cool brown eyes studied her face, and her gut clenched with a tight pain that flowed outward as she remembered how tiny flecks of amber would appear in those eyes when they darkened with passion. “Did Grange really hurt you?”
Andi turned her attention to the crowd. I should have known he’d be here tonight. O’Reilly’s was a warm and inviting place, and most of the patrons were regulars. Outside the bar, they might never cross paths, but inside they were the best of friends. It was also a favorite hangout for most of the West Hollywood police force when they were off duty. She’d met Jerry there twelve years ago, and it was where she’d fallen in love with him. Don’t lie to yourself, Andi. Deep down, you knew he’d be here. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it.”
Jerry pushed back the barstool and grabbed his beer. “Suit yourself.”
The 13th Victim Page 2