One Red Cent (Miranda Vaughn Mysteries)

by Ellie Ashe

  “Eddie owns it?” Miranda asked, stacking her now empty plates.

  Leo nodded. “Yeah. When I opened the bistro, the neighborhood was a little shady. But in only two years, that whole area changed. The old bus station was demolished, and those new lofts went up, and it just really breathed a lot of life into that district.”

  Leo’s bistro had been on Chalk Quarry Boulevard, a busy four-lane street that my dad used to call “Chalk Outline Boulevard.” It was smack in the middle of a four-block area that my mother would refuse to drive through when I was a kid. If we did have to cross through that neighborhood, she’d lock the doors and speed through the yellow lights. The real estate market eventually drove out the vagrants and bad elements and the neighborhood was now fairly well gentrified, with Eddie’s old restaurant sitting on that border between hipster renaissance and run-down.

  “Eddie was trying to find a better location for the restaurant, but everything he came up with just wasn’t as good a spot as where we were,” he said.

  “Why were you considering moving?”

  “Oh, I didn’t want to. Eddie did. He was my silent partner and, well, you know, he’s got a lot of experience with restaurants,” Leo said. “It just didn’t seem like a good idea. I mean, Lemon Basil Bistro was doing really good where it was. Why mess with that?”

  “So he just never found a good alternative?” Miranda asked.

  “No, and I finally just told him not to waste his energy on it,” Leo said. “He wasn’t forcing me to move or anything. I mean, I had a six-year lease, so I didn’t have to go.”

  I tapped the flyer again. “Do you know anything about Red Silk Ribbon?” I asked.

  Leo blushed and shook his head. “Uh, no. I mean, I know about it. But I don’t shop there.”

  “How about Rita?” I asked. I didn’t know Rita’s last name, but if Eddie was borrowing her car, they obviously knew each other.

  Leo nodded. “Eddie had a friend named Rita. I met her once at the bistro.”

  “Tall, with long, red hair?” Miranda asked.

  He nodded again.

  “Is she Eddie’s girlfriend?”

  “Oh no, Eddie’s married.”

  Oh really? Miranda and I exchanged a look. Eddie was hanging out with a striking redhead who owned a lingerie shop, borrowing her car, and having lunch in a pied-a-terre with her—and was married to someone else. Fascinating.

  “Hey, you guys, I’m so glad you came by,” Leo said with a wide smile as he stood up. “I’ve got to go back to work. I really appreciate all you’re doing for me. I just know that there’s no way I’ll get convicted.”

  He gave us each a hug and jogged back to the taco truck, where the line of customers had tripled.

  Miranda cleared our plates, and our table was quickly claimed by lunch-hour diners.

  “Now what?” Miranda asked as we walked back to the Golf Ball.

  “Drop me at my bike, then let’s meet at your place. I could use a swim.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said.

  The first thing I noticed when I retrieved my bike from the Bean and Biscuit’s parking lot was that Eddie’s lime green muscle car was gone. The second was the banner stretched across the front window of the Red Silk Ribbon, announcing that all inventory was discounted for a moving sale. Rita was wasting no time getting into her new space.

  After a quick stop at home to shower and throw on a swimsuit, shorts and a tank top, I headed to Miranda’s house, opting to drive my Miata instead of the bike. Miranda was living in what had been her childhood home, where she’d been raised by her aunt, Marie Parsons. When Marie had gotten engaged to Rob, she’d moved out to his small ranch on the edge of the county and Miranda had just moved from the apartment over the garage into the two-bedroom bungalow. It was an adorable house, if a bit dated, and she was damn lucky to have a place so close to work. The garage apartment was now occupied by FBI Special Agent Jake Barnes—another reason that Miranda was damn lucky.

  I let myself into the house and heard the shower running in the bathroom off Miranda’s bedroom. I detoured through the kitchen and poured myself a tall ice tea. Through the kitchen window, I could see a shirtless Jake Barnes dragging the skimmer through the crystal blue pool water. It was a very fine view, indeed.

  I opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the patio.

  “Hey there, Special Agent Pool Boy.”

  Jake looked up and grinned. “Hey, Sarah.”

  Behind him in the shade of a large lemon tree, Jake’s massive dog, Hank, raised his head and gave a gentle woof. Then he stretched out and expelled a long sigh and closed his eyes. Hank may look like a good deterrent to anyone thinking of breaking in, but he was the least aggressive dog I’d ever met. The poor thing had immediately ceded power to Marie’s cat, Kvetch, an angry orange tomcat who stayed at the house. Of course, so had Miranda and Jake. That was one mean cat.

  “Miranda has you taking care of the pool now?” I joked, pulling a chaise lounge from the shade of the patio cover closer to the pool.

  “Gotta earn my keep,” Jake said. “What trouble are you two getting into today?”

  “Nothing. But the day’s not over yet.”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “Hey, why aren’t you at work, fighting crime?” I asked, settling into the chair.

  “I can take a day off once in a while. Crime will still be there when I get back,” he said, scooping out the last leaf from the water.

  Behind me, I heard the slider open. On the other side of the pool, Jake looked up and froze for a moment, then swallowed hard. The pool skimmer slipped from his hands and into the water. I turned to see Miranda walk out in her new bikini. Her blond hair glowed in the sun and her eyes were the same shade of blue as the tiny swimsuit—a vision of a California girl come to life. I wasn’t sure what she’d paid for it, but it was worth the price to see Jake lose his cool at the sight of it.

  “Jake, you don’t have to do that,” Miranda said, pulling a lounge next to mine.

  “I don’t mind,” he said, dropping to his knee to retrieve the skimmer. He tossed it aside and sat on the edge of the pool, his legs in the water. “Aren’t you two supposed to be at work?”

  “We were, but we failed at our mission,” Miranda said with a pout.

  “What mission?” Jake slipped into the water and swam across the pool to where we were, coming to rest with his arms on the tiled edge. He looked up at Miranda with a heat that made me feel like a third wheel.

  “We tried to serve a subpoena on a reluctant witness,” I said.

  “You could have the sheriff’s department serve him,” Jake said. “Or get Burton to do it. He probably does that all the time.”

  I waved a hand to cut off that suggestion. “I do this all the time. I can do it.”

  “How long have you been trying to get this guy?”

  “Two weeks. He really doesn’t want to testify.”

  “What would you do, if you were trying to serve him?” Miranda asked. Her stylish sunglasses weren’t enough to disguise the pure lust in her eyes.

  “Sounds like you need to know why he won’t testify. Then you can figure out how to convince him to change his mind,” Jake said. “Why do you want to call a hostile witness anyway?”

  I shrugged. “Leo says he’s got important information about the restaurant’s history and its future plans. He was a minority partner in the venture, so he knows about Leo’s plans and how invested he was in its future.”

  I stood up and went to the diving board at the far end of the pool. I adjusted my suit, then realized that the only other people in the backyard couldn’t take their eyes off each other, and I could be standing there stark naked, and they’d never notice. I sighed then dove into the pool. The cool water enveloped me, and it was as refreshing as I’d imagined earlier. I swam the length of the pool before coming up to take a breath.

  I pulled myself out and grabbed my towel from the chaise, then plopped down on the
cushions. Jake had a good point. If we didn’t know Eddie’s motivation for dodging court testimony, then we’d be taking a risk putting him on the stand. So why was he trying to avoid testifying?

  “This is that arson case, right?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, giving him a stern look. “The feds aren’t interested in it, are they?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “No. The locals have it taken care of. Doesn’t sound like a federal matter. I only know what I read in the newspaper.”

  Well, at least Leo had that going for him—he wasn’t at risk of heading to federal prison any time soon. But state prison was still a real possibility. The fire investigator was convinced it was arson. Our expert would testify that it couldn’t be determined whether the fire was purposefully set. The accelerant that the fire department investigator identified was Sterno, the liquid fuel used in the little cans that warmed catering trays, and there were plenty of those in the restaurant. Leo had been using a small torch for the dessert special that night—a Meyer lemon crème brûlée. In combination, that could cause a fire.

  Unfortunately, Burton hadn’t been able to find any witnesses to corroborate Leo’s alibi. He swore that he left the restaurant by eleven o’clock and was the last one to leave, and that he was home alone until he got a call a little after one in the morning about the fire. The fire broke out about just around midnight. As usual, Burton had done a very thorough investigation, speaking to every single employee, even the ones who weren’t working that night and a couple who had been fired or quit before the fire. Though they all liked Leo, none of them offered any information that pointed the investigation in another direction.

  The sun sparkled off the water and my swimsuit was dry in minutes from the mid-day heat. Miranda joined Jake in the pool and kept up a steady flirty banter. While I appreciated that two beautiful people were discovering their mutual attraction, I didn’t need to hang around to witness it. Plus, maybe if I got out of the way, they’d finally stop mooning over each other and just do the deed already.

  I stood up and wrapped my towel around my waist. “I’m going to go find Burton and see if he knows anything more about Eddie’s history that might help us.”

  Miranda managed to rip her eyes away from Jake’s well-muscled chest to wave good-bye to me. I put my shorts and shirt on over my nearly dry swimsuit, found my flip-flops and let myself out. It was a short drive to the law firm, and I saw that Burton’s obscenely expensive sports car was in its reserved spot, so I pulled into our parking lot.

  The office was cool and quiet and from the lobby, I could hear Burton on the phone. While I waited for him to hang up, I wandered back toward my desk. Rob’s office was dark, the blinds closed. Theresa’s desk in the reception area was cleaned off and the night message light flashed, so she was clearly gone for the day, too. I went to the filing cabinets and pulled out Leo’s file, flipping to the investigative notes from Burton.

  Nothing had changed since the last time I’d reviewed the memos of his interviews with potential witnesses. They all thought the world of Leo, but knew that he was worried about the bistro’s future. Even a guy who Leo had fired two weeks earlier had nice things to say about his former boss. I made a mental note to go talk to a waiter who couldn’t remember to show up for his shifts. Maybe he knew more about the fire than he’d let on to Burton. If he were angry, he’d have motive to burn the place down. At least more motive than I could see for Leo.

  “You must be studying my work and wondering how one man can do such a thorough investigation,” Burton said from behind me.

  “I’m just looking for the leads you dropped,” I said, not turning around. It was easier to talk with Burton when I wasn’t facing that tall, dark, and handsome wall of sin, as Miranda described him. He was beautiful, no doubt. And he could charm a smile out of the most hostile interview subject. But I had to work with him and as much fun as scaling that wall of sin might be, I was going to resist.

  He came around me and perched on the table next the open file. I was surprised the table could handle the weight. Burton was tall, at least six-foot-three, and had the broad shoulders of former football player. He had smooth brown skin that begged to be touched, and I tried to act like I didn’t notice that he was only a few inches away from me.

  Burton crossed his well-muscled arms and looked me over with a smile. “What’s this, casual Monday?”

  I glanced down at my board shorts and tank top, thrown hastily over my swimsuit. “When you get your work done early, you get to play. Which I guess explains why you’re still at work.”

  He raised an eyebrow at my jab. “Does that mean you managed to get that subpoena into the hand of Eddie Lucas?”

  Damn. I’d totally set myself up for that. “Not yet. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Burton laughed. “Want some help?”

  I shrugged. I hated to ask him for help. Really hated it. But the clock was ticking and Leo’s future took priority over my pride. Before I could answer, though, Burton stood up from the table and studied me closely.

  “How tall are you?”

  I stepped back, startled by the change of topic. “Five foot four. Why?”

  “Got any heels? I mean, like really high ones.”

  I squinted at him. “Yeah, probably. Why?”

  “I tell you what. I need a favor. You need a favor. You do something for me and I’ll get your subpoena served on Eddie Lucas.”

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “What sort of favor do you need?”

  He grinned. “It’ll be easy, I promise.”

  I frowned.

  “Trust me.”

  I found myself staring into his warm brown eyes that crinkled up at the edges and felt my resistance give a little.

  “Sure, I guess that would be okay.”

  Burton nodded and gave me a wicked wink. “Great. I’ll pick you up at your place at seven. Wear something sexy.”

  4

  I stared into my closet and looked up and down the shelves of folded clothes. Burton would be here in five minutes and I was still in my underwear and bra, undecided about whether to follow his instructions about what to wear.

  By nature, my brain rebelled against those types of instructions. If Burton wanted me to wear something “sexy,” I’d reach for the yoga pants or an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

  But other parts of my body were seriously considering a swingy mini dress that looked great with the high heels he requested. I was conflicted. I could do sexy. Do it well, even. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

  I heard the knock before I had made up my mind and threw on the dress so I wouldn’t have to answer the door mostly naked.

  Burton filled the doorway of my condo, a tight t-shirt showing off his muscular chest and arms. A pair of gray pants that emphasized his long legs. When he stepped into the foyer, the tiled alcove seemed even smaller than normal.

  “Where are your shoes?”

  “Nice to see you, too, Burton. Won’t you come in?”

  He smiled and his eyes crinkled up. Damn. The man was beautiful, pure and simple. From top of that smooth bald head, down the entire length of his chiseled body. He was sporting a goatee lately, and it was a good look on him. In the three or four years since he’d rented an office from Rob, I’d yet to see a bad look on him. He could go from university professor to strong-arm muscle man with a quick wardrobe change and an adjustment to his body language. It made him a damn good investigator. And entirely too dangerous to my willpower.

  “You look nice, Sarah,” he said, looking down at me. I’d never felt so short as standing next to him barefoot and wearing only a loose fitting dress.

  “I’ll get some shoes,” I said, walking toward my bedroom. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thanks,” he said, walking around my living room, taking it in.

  I picked up a pair of heels, gave my hair a quick brush and dug into the bottom of my work bag for my favorite lipstick. When I returned t
o the living room, Burton was relaxed on my couch, an arm stretched out along the back.

  “Will these do?” I asked, holding the shoes up.

  He grimaced at the stiletto heels. “Are those the same height as this?”

  He reached into his soft leather messenger bag and pulled out a black and silver pump.

  “Whoa. That’s some shoe,” I said, taking the gaudy platform slingback from him and comparing it to my heel. “Yeah, I’ve got something this height. Give me a second.”

  I walked back down the short hall to my bedroom and went directly to my walk-in closet, my mind trying to piece together why Burton was hauling around one high-heeled shoe. I was, apparently, being told things on a need-to-know basis. I’d be patient, for now.

  In the closet, I picked out two pairs and turned to leave, running smack into Burton’s chest. I hadn’t even heard him follow me.

  He was staring at my bedroom with his eyes wide.

  “It’s so girly,” he said, his eyes scanning everything, taking it all in.

  “That’s because I’m a girl.”

  “Oh, I know,” he said, giving me a crooked grin. “I just didn’t think you were a purple-bedroom kind of girl.”

  “Only the bedspread is purple. The walls are pale lavender frost.”

  “Looks purple to me.”

  “You’re wrong. Here are the shoes. What do you think?”

  Burton kept scanning the room and his eyes lingered on the Danish modern desk near the window.

  “Uh, hello? You wanted just the shoes, remember?” I asked, getting increasingly nervous having Burton in my bedroom. Near my bed. Unchaperoned.

  “Yeah, whatever ones are the right height,” he said, then reached down and picked up a framed picture. “Nice picture of you. Who is this?”

  I didn’t have to look at the photo in his hand. “My brother, Evan.”

  “Oh, sure, I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes.”

  “Mine are prettier,” I said, slipping on a pair of nude pumps with a four-inch heel. It probably wasn’t even true. Evan was ridiculously beautiful. It got him into a lot of trouble.