Textual Relations

by Jamie Lee Scott

  TEXTUAL

  RELATIONS

  by

  Jamie Lee Scott

  Textual Relations

  Jamie Lee Scott

  Copyright 2012 by Jamie Lee Scott

  Acknowledgements

  Acknowledgements

  As with any novel, there are so many people to thank. There are so many people without whom this text wouldn’t exist. I’ve listed just a few of them here.

  Scot Dierks, again, thanks for being the most understanding and supportive husband a woman could ask for, in so many ways. And thanks for letting me attempt to live my dream.

  Teresa Watson, editor extraordinaire. Thanks for the last minute revisions, the advice, the support, and for making Textual Relations a better book. Thanks for taking time away from your own endeavors to help me with mine.

  To my beta readers: Bente Gallagher (also known as New York Times bestselling author Jennie Bentley) and Stacy Jeziorowski for taking early looks, making suggestions, and for being the best fans.

  Lastly, to Martin Crosbie, who helped push me to the next level. I can’t even tell you how much he’s done for so many people.

  CHAPTER 1

  Getting started in the mornings has always been hard for me. I hit my snooze button at least three times. Even Lola, my Doberman, isn’t fooled by the alarm anymore. She doesn’t even stir until she hears me press the reset button, which means I’m finally getting up.

  When the damn thing screamed at me for the third time that morning, I rolled over to press reset. I got about halfway to the clock on my nightstand when the covers that had tangled around my body in my apparently restless sleep threatened to cut me in half. The shrill sound pierced the air for so long, Lola began howling. I wrestled the satin sheets from around my middle and threw the covers to the floor.

  Lola immediately pounced on the covers, rolled over on her back, and wriggled in an attempt to scratch her back. I slammed my hand down on the clock hard enough to break it. Ah, silence.

  I’m Mimi Capurro, owner of Gotcha Detective Agency in Salinas, California. My business is fledgling, but since news of our involvement in catching a murderer hit the presses, business has been picking up.

  The aforementioned murder occurred when I was working as a bodyguard for New York Times bestselling author, Lauren Silke. The victim was her assistant, who I was not protecting. I got involved in the case, and as luck (or skill) would have it, we caught the killer. I feel bad that such a nice girl had to die, and we got great PR from a bad situation, but let’s face it: detective work is “bad situation” business.

  I picked up the blankets Lola had been rolling on and tossed them in the washer on my way to the bathroom.

  My house is more like a small cottage, so everything is close together, and my stackable washer and dryer happened to be in the closet outside the bathroom. I stuffed the blankets in, but didn’t turn it on, because I felt it was more important for me to have water pressure for my shower than to get the blankets cleaned.

  I looked at my watch as I got undressed. Shit, I’d really slept in. Instead of enjoying a leisurely shower, I jumped in, shampooed, rinsed, and conditioned in less than five minutes. No time to shave my legs, so I’d have to wear pants.

  Lola was scratching at the back door by the time I’d finished putting on my eyeliner and mascara, so I dabbed on my nude lip stain as I headed out the door.

  By the time I arrived at the Victorian house that is home to Gotcha Detective Agency, Lola was frothing at the mouth. I was late, and she had a strict schedule. She must have her morning snack from Charles Parks, one of my detectives, by 8:30am. We were only five minutes late. She scratched at the passenger window when I parked in the lot, so I leaned across my Land Rover, opened the passenger door, and as soon as I grabbed the handle, Lola pushed hard against the door and flew across the yard to the kitchen door.

  I looked in the rearview mirror and checked my makeup. Today I went for minimal, with just foundation, blush, liner and mascara. Oh, and a bit of lip stain too, so I didn’t look dead. I’d dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks, my usual business casual, and I had my hair pulled up into a high ponytail, which I swear takes five years off my looks.

  When I finally got out of the car, Charles stood outside the door, hand-feeding Lola her treats. As I walked up the steps, he put his finger to his lips.

  “Huge fight going on in there. If we’re quiet, maybe we can catch the rest before they realize everyone can hear them.” Charles grabbed Lola’s collar and led her into my office.

  When he came back into the kitchen, we stood quiet and still. I knew the voices, but I’d never heard them at this level.

  “When you make enough money to pay the mortgage and buy food, then you can do whatever you want. But until then, you live under my roof, and it’s my rules,” Jackie Baccarin, another of my detectives and my best friend, screamed.

  “That’s so unfair. It’s my computer.” That whining voice belonged to Jackie’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Catey.

  “Get over it. Life is unfair,” Jackie said. There was a slamming noise. “And it’s not your computer, it’s mine. I paid for it, and I let you use it. If you don’t give me the passwords, then you won’t be using it anymore.”

  “Fine, I don’t care. I’ll just use Amanda’s computer. Her mom lets her have her computer in her bedroom. She’s not a control freak like you.”

  “Well, good for Amanda! When she starts smoking dope in her bedroom, maybe her mom can join her.” Jackie must have stood quickly, because I heard her chair hit the wall. “We’re done here, young lady. Not only are you not going to have your own computer until I have all the passwords, you’re grounded until further notice.”

  “Until further notice?” Catey sounded flabbergasted. “You can’t do that. You have to give me a time.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. Now you’d better get a move on, because I won’t be writing you a note if you’re late for school.”

  “No. It’s my civil right to know the term of my punishment,” Catey snapped.

  “As long as you live in my house, you have no civil rights,” Jackie stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Go. School. Now.”

  We watched as Catey, dressed in school regulation black pants and white oxford shirt, stormed out of the building.

  I looked at Charles. “So, what’s the scoop?”

  Charles’s face went slack. No more morning drama for him. He walked over to the coffee machine. “Want some?”

  “I could use the caffeine. Late stakeout last night.” I plopped down at the kitchen table.

  “I guess Jackie is suspicious of some of Catey’s behavior lately, so she asked her for the passwords to her laptop, and all of her social networking accounts. Catey refused, so Jackie brought Catey’s laptop in for me to try to figure out the passwords.” Charles poured coffee as he spoke.

  He walked to the table, handed me my coffee cup, and sat down across from me. “The Internet is such a dangerous place for teens,” I said, after my first sip.

  “Jackie no sooner walked in the door when Catey stormed in behind her.”

  “Catey’s not old enough to drive. How did she get here?”

  Charles wrapped his hands around his cup as if he was cold. “I guess her best friend’s mom dropped her off.”

  Before we could finish our conversation, Gemma Olivetti, my junior detective, peeked into the kitchen. “Mimi, you have a visitor.”

  Gemma was still that age where miniskirts were appropriate, and she flaunted it. The tight beige skirt and even tighter monochrome shirt would have looked ridiculous on anyone older, or less fit. Gemma wore it like a second skin she’d lived in all her life.

  “Who is it?” I wasn’t ready to see peo
ple yet. I hadn’t even finished my coffee.

  “I didn’t even ask his name,” Gemma said, perplexed. “It’s just that he’s so freaking hot, he caught me off guard when he asked for you.”

  I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, usually when the guy at the front desk is that sexy, he’s asking for Charles.” She looked at Charles and winked.

  “Maybe he is here for me. You know Charles and Mimi sound similar. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken?” Charles stood before I did.

  I wasn’t even out of my seat before Charles sprinted toward reception. Good, I’d have a minute or two before I had to deal with the day. I’d barely gotten my cup rinsed out when Charles was back.

  “You are not going to believe who’s here.”

  Before I could guess, a tall man, dressed in a white oxford shirt and navy slacks, entered the kitchen. He took my breath away. Part of it was his good looks, but part of it was that I never expected to see him again. We just didn’t run in the same circles, as he was a computer whiz, and I could barely open a can of Cheese Whiz.

  “Sebastian,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”

  It had been a few months since I’d seen him. He was the boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend, of the girl that had been murdered. Sebastian was indeed sexy, and I could see how even the luscious Gemma would be taken aback by him, but he was also a bit scary. His dark wavy hair and tanned skin only made his blue eyes that much more blue. To keep myself from getting too hormonal, I tried to remember the details of the sleeve of tattoos covering his arms. When he pushed up his sleeves, the blanket of ink reminded me that we came from very different worlds.

  “It’s been awhile.” His genuine smile beamed. “I thought since things have settled a bit, maybe we could talk.”

  I looked over to Charles, giving him the “I’ve got it from here” look, dismissing him. Being Charles, he completely ignored me.

  “Sebastian, how goes the game?” Charles poured himself another cup of coffee. He was settling in.

  “We had to call it quits for a bit. The PR campaign sort of fell apart after the murder and all. But Henry, Eugene and I have a meeting next week.” Sebastian looked back to me. “Is there a place we can talk?”

  I looked at Charles, who was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.

  Sebastian was not only the ex-boyfriend of the murder victim, he had been a suspect. Among other things, he was also quite fond of me for some reason. Since he was at least ten years younger than me, I never took him seriously.

  “Let’s go into my office.” I poured more coffee into the cup I’d just rinsed, so I could have something to do with my hands. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I walked to my office and felt like a huge shadow was hanging over me. Did I mention Sebastian was more than six feet tall?

  I sat at my desk and motioned for him to take a chair on the other side. It hadn’t been that long since his dead ex-girlfriend had been sitting in that same chair. He sat, and I felt better with the desk between us. I couldn’t imagine why he was here.

  “Okay, this is going to sound, I don’t know, stalkerish.” Sebastian wasn’t his normal cocky self.

  “Stalkerish?” I asked.

  “Look, I’m just going to say this, and don’t interrupt me, or I won’t get through it.”

  “Okay.” Oops.

  “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you came to see me that day. I know the timing was bad, and I should never have been so forward with you. Then the whole alibi thing and sex with Esme, and Susan, and then, uh, Esme. I just want you to know, I’ve forced myself to wait this long to come see you. I’m not a creep, I’m not crazy, and I know the tattoos and the vampire thing sort of put you off, but I’m really a nice guy. Sure, I was a bit full of myself about the girls, but you are a woman.” Sebastian was rambling.

  “Wait.” I stood up. “Just wait a minute. Why exactly are you here?”

  “I want you to have lunch with me,” Sebastian blurted out.

  “No, no, no. I thought we talked about this. I’m so much older than you, and I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” I walked around my desk to show him the door.

  Sebastian stood. “It’s not like that. I haven’t been with anyone since that day. And it’s just lunch.”

  I wanted to be flattered, but I was grossed out by the fact that he had sex with Esme the night she died. Then again, who was I to judge? I wasn’t perfect, and I’d had sex with more than one man in my life. Truth be told, I was flattered.

  “Just lunch?” Was I really giving in that easily?

  “Just lunch between friends,” Sebastian said. “We can see if maybe you might be able to really like me.”

  I had to laugh. He had no idea what he was getting into. “And maybe, you’ll stop liking me.”

  He laughed. “So it’s a date? When and where?”

  I looked over at my desk. I didn’t want to go through my Blackberry and “fit him in” so I said, “Leave me your card and I’ll call you. I’ll know more about my schedule after our morning staff meeting.”

  Sebastian pulled his wallet from his pocket and slipped a business card out. He handed it to me, and then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  I stood frozen in place and watched Sebastian walk out of my office.

  As soon as the front door closed, Charles arrived in my office. Close on his heels was a frazzled looking Jackie.

  “Wait until I tell Nick,” Charles purred.

  Nick, or rather Detective Nick Christianson, was the homicide cop from the murder we investigated. Nick also happened to be my college playmate, as in we had sex but weren’t dating. It ended badly.

  “What on earth would you tell Nick for?” If he told Nick, I’d kill him. I didn’t care if I’d have to hire another computer forensics expert.

  “He always said Sebastian had the hots for you.” Charles sat in the same chair Sebastian had just vacated. “Oh, I can still feel him.”

  Jackie stood there, silent, which was very uncharacteristic of my friend.

  “So Jackie, do we need to have a powwow?” I wanted to focus on something else and this was perfect.

  Jackie sat on the chair next to Charles. “I’m so sorry about the yelling. Thank goodness we didn’t have any clients in this morning.”

  Jackie had been my friend since we were kids. We had been through a lot together. When I looked at her sitting there, she looked more stressed than I’d ever seen her. Believe me, I’ve seen her stressed. I was there when her skanky ex-husband left her. She’d been quite a bit heavier then. The best thing to ever happen, next to having her kids, was Bradley leaving her. She got her confidence back, lost weight, and came to work for me. She’s now the epitome of fashion for women over 30. Today, she wore skinny jeans with layered t-shirts in pastels of violet, blue and grey. The colors looked good with her pale skin and red hair.

  “I’m not remotely worried about the yelling. I’m worried about you and Catey.”

  She leaned forward and put her face in her hands. “She’s been acting weird lately.”

  “Weird? In what way?”

  “She doesn’t go out with her friends as much. She stays in her room with the door closed, and is either texting or typing away on her computer.” Jackie looked up. “It’s just not like her.”

  Charles had changed moods considerably. “So you took her laptop and cell phone. Good for you.”

  “That’s what the fight was about. She wouldn’t give me the passwords, so I took them. I didn’t sneak them away. I told her exactly what I was doing.” She sat back in the chair and ran her fingers through her hair.

  I looked at her messed up bangs and wanted to straighten them, but it was just a distraction from the situation at hand. I hated to get involved in family matters. Well, wait, that’s what I do for a living: I follow cheating spouses. Never mind.

  “Where’s the computer?” Charles asked. �
��Let me take a look at it.”

  “Hold up there, Wiley Coyote. Let’s get the whole story, so you know what you are looking for,” I said.

  Jackie looked at me. “I think she’s been talking to a boy online. I mean like sexting him.”

  “What the hell?” Sexting, was that even a word?

  Charles looked at me like I was a six-year-old. “It’s the new phone sex. They text each other dirty messages, pictures, and whatnot.”

  I was immediately intrigued and repulsed. “So how do you know they were sexting if you can’t get past the passwords?”

  “She had a picture I didn’t recognize as her wallpaper on her phone. It was a really cute boy, but no one I knew. When I asked her who he was, she got defensive. I mean really defensive. Then she stopped leaving her laptop open, and every time I open it, it asks for a password. I’ve tried everything.”

  Charles leaned in close to Jackie and asked, “Have you thought about the possibility that it’s an older boy she’s texting and talking to?”

  I could see Jackie holding her breath, trying not to cry. “I tried to talk to her about it, you know, ask what his name was, how old he was, but she shut down on me. She’s always shared with me. So I asked Corey. He said not to worry; they haven’t even talked on the phone or anything. He said she met him on a social site. I guess they have a lot of mutual friends, and he’s interested in the same things she is.”

  Corey is Catey’s twin brother.

  “Red flag,” Charles said quietly.

  “Huge red flag,” Jackie agreed. “But then I thought, maybe I’m just being a paranoid mom. Last night, I laid awake in bed and thought about what could happen to my daughter, as if I wasn’t paranoid enough. So I brought the computer and Catey’s phone to work.”

  Charles’s computer forensics work is sought after, even by the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, so he’s our man for this kind of job. On cases like this, Charles’s computer skills save us from a wild goose chase.

  Charles and I stood at the same time. “Let’s go take a look,” I said.