Secret Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries)

by Gemma Halliday

  "Listen, let me go with you," I heard myself offering on impulse.

  She paused. "Seriously?"

  "Sure. I mean, it's a free lunch, right?"

  Maya grinned. "Now there's looking at the silver lining. But, really, I can't ask you to do that."

  I waved her off. "What are friends for? Besides," I said, talking myself into it as much as Maya now, "who doesn't enjoy an afternoon of good old fashioned man-bashing?" I asked. I was only half joking. There was more than one man making my life difficult at the moment

  "Thank you, Jamie. This means a lot." She scribbled her mother's address on a Post-it and handed it over. "One-thirty. Cool?"

  I nodded, glancing at the clock. It was coming on noon now, which left me just enough time to run one errand before the luncheon. "I'll be there."

  "And I promise, if it gets unbearable we'll leave," Maya reassured me.

  I smiled, not sure what to say to that, and headed to my office. I tossed my purse into my desk drawer and checked the stack of messages. A couple of clients looking for progress reports, a lawyer wanting to clarify some points about our surveillance before a divorce hearing, a couple of prospective new clients looking to schedule consultations. I was about to call the lawyer back when Danny appeared in my office doorway.

  I paused, phone in hand. I hadn't seen him since he'd been in the buff at the resort. For that matter, I had been, too.

  He waved at me. I waved back, sure my cheeks were getting hot at the memory.

  "Uh, hey, thank you for helping us out yesterday," I said, setting my phone down. "You know, at the nudist colony," I added. Then suddenly felt ridiculous for pointing out the nude thing again.

  "Any excuse to get naked with you, James." He grinned.

  I blushed deeper, sure I was positively crimson. "Right." I cleared my throat. "Good times."

  His grin grew wider, and he leaned in as if sharing a secret. "You're thinking about me naked right now, aren't you?"

  "No!" I made a pfft sound, expelling air through my teeth. "Totally not."

  His grin was practically taking over his entire face. "Really? Because I'm totally thinking about you naked."

  If the earth could have swallowed me up right then, I would have been eternally grateful. My cheeks were on fire, my gaze pinging anywhere but at Danny.

  "Relax, Bond. I'm teasing you," he said, taking a step forward. "Besides, I've seen far more of you on location."

  I gasped. "You did not! When?"

  "In Brazil, Cabo, New Zealand . . . take your pick."

  I shook my head. "I was always dressed."

  "But those bikinis were so tiny, they didn't hide much."

  "Much being the operative word."

  Danny smiled again, showing off the impish dimple in his left cheek. "Okay, I lied. Yesterday was the first time I've seen you naked, and, damn you're hot, girl. Feel better?"

  Hardly. The heat in my cheeks started pooling into that southern region again, making me oddly uncomfortable. Danny was my best friend. Friends did not comment on how hot their naked friends were.

  And said friends weren't supposed to be turned on by it.

  I cleared my throat. "Why are you here, exactly?" I asked.

  "I wanted to take you to lunch. I thought meatball subs felt like the perfect way to celebrate a case closed."

  I bit my lip. Meatball subs sounded like heaven right now. "Actually, I already have plans."

  His grin faltered. "You do?"

  I shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a popular girl."

  "These plans wouldn't have anything to do with a certain ADA, would they?"

  Did I detect just the slightest note of jealousy there?

  I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, my phone beeped and Maya's voice filled the room. "Mrs. Martin's here to see you."

  "Sorry. Gotta go," I said, gesturing to the door.

  Danny nodded, backing out of my office. "Sure. Right. See you later," he said, heading into the lobby. I saw him stop by Maya's desk, no doubt trying to get info from her on just who my lunch date was. I could have told him it was Maya herself, but considering the way he'd just teased me, I figured it was payback to let him think the worst for a bit.

  I hurried to my desk, and clicked the intercom button on the phone. "Send her in, Maya."

  Mrs. Martin shuffled in, bags under her eyes, shoulders slumped. I could tell she wasn't looking forward to whatever I had to say. She slowly sat in a chair facing my desk. "Your associate called and said you have information. He's cheating, isn't he?"

  I couldn't tell if her edgy tone was from relief that she'd soon be free of the adulterer or horrified that he was actually cheating. Some wives, even though they knew the truth in their gut, couldn't quite believe it when shown the proof. Or didn't want to.

  I sat in my chair and placed a hand on her folder. "We've discovered behavior that leads us to believe that your husband might be unfaithful."

  She stared at me, her expression blank. The first time I'd met her, she wore a tailored suit with flawless makeup and her hair spun up into a classic updo. Today, she wore Mom jeans, a cotton-knit top, and flip-flops. Her hair was down, pulled behind her ears, but it looked frizzy and unwashed. When she snapped out of it, her voice was calm and steady. "Show me."

  My gut tensed, but I opened the folder and pulled out three photographs of Martin squeezing various parts of Caleigh's anatomy. I slid them toward the wife and bit my bottom lip, hoping she wouldn't start crying. I hated the tears.

  Mrs. Martin's hand trembled as she held the pictures. She squeezed her eyes shut and laid the photos back on my desk. When she opened them, she stared directly at me. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I did hire you, after all. I knew he wasn't an angel. But I just kind of hoped I was being paranoid . . . " She trailed off, eyes cutting to the photos again.

  "I'm sorry," I told her, truly meaning it. "If there's anything I can do?"

  She shook her head, gathering up the photos and shoving them into her purse. "No. Thank you. You've done enough. Just . . . send me a bill, okay?"

  I nodded. "Of course." I stood to walk her out. We passed through the lobby, conversation between Maya and Danny immediately ceasing in deference to what they knew she'd just seen.

  "Again, please let me know if there's anything else we can do for you," I added as Mrs. Martin hit the door.

  She started to shake her head, then paused. "Actually, do you know if my husband is still at the resort?"

  "I, uh . . . " I looked to Danny. He'd been the last one to see Martin. He gave me a quick nod. "Yes, as far as I know, he's still there."

  Mrs. Martin gave me a tight smile. "Thank you," she said, then turned and walked quickly out the door and down the carpeted hallway.

  I stood in the doorway watching her go. Gone was the slumped-shouldered look, and in its a place a brisk walk that I could swear was suddenly full of determination.

  I quickly turned back to the lobby.

  "Maya!"

  She bounced up from her spot behind the desk. "Yeah, boss?"

  "We ran a background check on Mrs. Martin, didn't we?" Ever since that past case of mine had gone bad, landing me in Aiden's courtroom, we had a strict policy of screening clients. We checked IDs thoroughly, went through financials, made sure no one involved had a violent criminal record.

  Maya nodded. "Of course. She came up clean. Not even a parking ticket." She paused. "Why?"

  I bit my lip. "I don't know. She just seemed . . . " I trailed off, not able to put the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach into words. "Is Caleigh still at the resort?" I asked.

  "I, uh, I don't know. I mean, I think she spent the night, but I'm not sure if she's headed back yet."

  "Find out. And, if she is there, tell her to stay awhile longer and keep an eye on Mr. Martin."

  "What's wrong?" Danny asked, a frown between his brows. "You think the wife is going to pull something?"

  I shook my head. "No. Probably not. I hope not."

/>   "But better safe than sorry," Danny finished for me.

  I nodded. "She seemed pretty upset."

  "Okay, I'll go watch Caleigh's back," he offered.

  "Oh, you don't have to-" I started.

  But Danny cut me off, raising a palm my way. "Look, if the wife really is going to go all bunny-boiling, I don't want Caleigh up there alone."

  He had a good point. "Thank you," I told him, suddenly reminded of just why he'd been my best friend for so long. He could go from lustful, sexual innuendo to knight in shining armor in seconds flat. But the truth was, in a clinch, I had a feeling he was 90% knight and only 10% lust.

  "No sweat," he said. "Hey, I can think of worse ways to spend the afternoon than naked among a bunch of lonely women."

  Okay, maybe 20% lust.

  * * *

  Maya's mother lived in the suburb of Downey, just southeast of Los Angeles. I parked on the edge of the driveway, my backside almost sticking out into the road. Two other cars were parked ahead of me, and I saw Maya's Jetta slide to a stop at the curb. I stepped out, slammed the door shut, and Maya was instantly at my side.

  "Thank you again for doing this," she said as we walked past an angry looking garden gnome.

  "No problem." On the drive over, I'd geared myself up for an intellectual conversation about equality in the workplace and female reproductive rights. With that came images of drinking tea from bone china while nibbling on crustless sandwiches, gathered around a Victorian-laced coffee table on a hard settee. I hadn't expected a sunny bungalow with stained-glass windows and a walkway lined with potted plants.

  The one-story house was small, on a crowded street of other small homes. Unlike Mrs. Bernstein's or most of our clients' homes, the Alexander neighborhood looked homey. A tricycle sat on the grass of the house to the left. A stray baseball had landed in Maya's mother's yard. Maya picked it up and gently tossed it over. It landed with a soft thud beside the bike. A white wicker armchair stood close to the front door, where a wooden plaque, painted in bright yellow, declared this as being: The Alexander Home. Beneath the childlike lettering were three stick figures, each one labeled. Robert, Charlotte, Maya.

  It made my throat constrict. Partly because Maya's father was gone, and partly because I didn't own anything from my life with my mother. Everything had been sold, donated, or given away, Derek wanting to purge the place of bad memories. There were a few items that I'd tucked away, but they'd either been broken or lost over time.

  I barely had time to cross the Welcome mat when three older women came to the door to greet us. Mrs. Alexander, who insisted I call her Charley, plus her two "dearest friends in the whole wide world," Ruth and Abigail. They each wore the same sundress but in a different color: yellow, light blue, and peach respectively. Their outfits were completed with white open-toed sandals, matching pedicures, and silver hoop earrings. Charley wore her hair up in a bun, while the other two pulled theirs back into loose braids.

  The women were much older than I expected, early sixties easily. Charley must've had Maya in her late thirties, at least. Which wasn't uncommon now, but was considered later in life for Charley's generation. I wondered why she'd waited. Had she been a career woman or just late to find love in Maya's father? It made me realize I knew precious little about Maya's personal life. She'd never spoken much of her family, and I hadn't even realized her father was deceased until she'd mentioned it this afternoon.

  The ladies led me into a small formal dining room with a table eclectically set for six. It looked like a child's tea party with orange, yellow and blue tableware and clear vases filled with blue and green glass beads. I half expected Baby Alive or Raggedy Ann to be seated amongst us.

  Charley took my arm and guided me to a chair to the right of hers, which was at the head of the table. "Please make yourself comfortable. Mi casa es su casa."

  "Very good, Mom." Maya looked to me. "She's been studying languages at the college. She's on Spanish now."

  "Yes, I started with French. Very classy. J'adore tes chaussures."

  "She loves your shoes," Maya interpreted. "I took French in high school, and shoes was the first word I learned." She grinned. A girl after my own heart.

  I glanced at my leopard-skin pumps. "Thank you. Um . . . merci." I hoped it would end there because I spent my high school Spanish days flirting with the boys, and my French was rustier than that.

  Ruth and Abigail, who settled across from me and Maya, cheered like I'd just pulled a Frenchman from my purse.

  I nodded to Maya about the sixth setting at the other side of the table. Were we waiting for another friend?

  Maya leaned close. "She likes to put out a place for Dad."

  A breath swelled in my chest. How sad.

  Charley removed the lids from three serving platters, with the theatrical flourish of a magician on stage. She even did a "ta-da" each time. With each discovery, Ruth and Abigail again cheered. While I recognized the flatbread, I wasn't sure what the others were, but they smelled spicy and earthy. My stomach grumbled.

  "Mom's been taking a tour of the world in her cooking class," Maya said. "Where are you now, Mom?"

  "India. The first is Tandoori Chicken. I use boneless breast meat because I prefer bite-size pieces. It has yogurt and garlic and tandoori spices, of course."

  Of course. She must've had a lot of time on her hands.

  "The next one is Palak Paneer." She smiled after she said the name with a pseudo Indian accent. "Abigail is vegetarian, so there always must be one meatless dish. This one is spinach and paneer cheese, which I made from scratch."

  Ruth clapped.

  Charley gave a half bow. "And the last is Naan, which you can use to scoop up all the deliciousness of the other two. Please help yourselves."

  Everyone became busy with serving themselves and passing around the dishes. A flurry of cumin, coriander, and ginger tickled my nose. Not exactly a summertime menu. I expected cucumber sandwiches and iced tea, but the house was so well air-conditioned that it was almost chilly, so hot, spicy food hit the spot.

  "So, Jamie, Maya tells us you track down adulterers, "said Ruth between bites.

  I nodded. "It's a living."

  "No details," Maya quickly added.

  All three women widened their eyes and shook their heads. "Oh no."

  I shoved a piece of chicken into my mouth, and immediately washed it down with water. The spices clawed at my throat at first, but once they went down, it left a lingering warmth in my belly.

  "How very independent of you to manage your own agency," said Charley.

  "I don't do it alone. I have Maya and the other girls." I paused, remembering the feminist company I was keeping. "Er, women, I mean. But Maya's a tremendous support. She practically runs the place."

  Ruth and Abigail beamed. Charley glanced from me to her daughter, expressionless. I wasn't sure if she was pondering what I said or finding a tactful way to disagree. Did she only see Maya as the March Playmate or was she aware of her organizational skills?

  "She's a receptionist. There's nothing wrong with that, dear, but answering phones isn't the same as being an entrepreneur."

  Maya sighed. Not too loud, but I heard it.

  "Being an administrative assistant, especially to a PI firm, isn't just about getting coffee. Which I couldn't live without, by the way, so she's basically saving my life on a daily basis."

  Ruth and Abigail chuckled at my joke. Charley, not so much.

  "Maya holds the rest of us together," I continued. "Without her attention to detail and her organization, we'd be lost. She handles every administrative aspect of every case we get. Without her, the agency wouldn't be half what it is now."

  Maya's cheeks stained pink, and she looked away. I hoped she realized I was being truthful, even if I was laying it on a bit thick for her mother's benefit.

  Charley cupped my hand and squeezed. "I'm thrilled she has such a magnificent boss."

  "Thank you. But I'm thrilled to have such a great empl
oyee."

  Charley made a grunting sound in her throat, but I couldn't tell if it was agreeing or disagreeing with me.

  "It must be so exciting to spy on people," Abigail said.

  I chuckled. "It can be."

  "You're like Maddie from Moonlighting. Remember her with that handsome Bruce Willis, Charley?"

  "No, no," said Ruth. "Jamie's more like Laura Holt with that hot Remington Steele."

  I nearly choked on my paneer. If only my life was that adventurous.

  "Do you have a Remington in your life, Jamie?" Ruth asked.

  The three women simultaneously stopped eating and stared at me. Talk about a hot seat. My temperature rose, and I wasn't sure if it was the tandoori or the women.

  "I-um . . . " I thought of Aiden. He was definitely close to Remington. But then Danny floated into my mind. Why, I have no idea except the haphazard feeling I got around him lately reminded me of Maddie and David Addison.

  "I'm not sure. My love life is a bit complicated at the moment." And in all honestly, practically non-existent.

  Ruth heavily sighed. "I do understand."

  Abigail rolled her eyes.

  My phone buzzed.

  I glanced at the display. Danny. Oddly enough, I felt myself blush that I'd just been thinking of him.

  "Uh, if you'll excuse me, I really have to take this."

  Charley waved me on. "I understand. You're a career woman. Work has to come first."

  I stabbed the on button as I walked into the living room, just out of earshot. "Hey, what's up?" I asked.

  "Well, you were right," he told me. "The wife visited Martin here."

  I felt my stomach instantly seize with dread. "And? Is he okay?"

  "Okay is a relative term."

  I closed my eyes and thought a really dirty word. "What did she do?"

  "Apparently she caught up with Martin by the pool. Caleigh was with him, of course, but she said Mrs. Martin was calm, cool as a cucumber, didn't even show that she knew Martin was being unfaithful."

  I felt the dread ease, glad I'd had Caleigh stick around.

  "In fact," Danny went on, "Mrs. Martin went so far as to buy her husband a drink before leaving."