Death Takes a Ride (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #3): A Novel

by Lorena McCourtney

  “I’m sorry. I should have asked first,” she said hastily. “If you have something else planned—”

  “Cate, I’m not about to miss your celebration dinner. It isn’t every day you become a fully licensed private investigator. That is what this is about, isn’t it?”

  “That’s obviously what Uncle Joe thinks. But who knows? Maybe the letter is a rejection notice. Maybe I’m disqualified because I capitalized something I shouldn’t have on the application. Maybe they investigated my past and discovered that one time I copied answers off the test paper of the guy sitting next to me in US history class.”

  Not one of her more noble moments in education. Although she’d not escaped the strong hand of justice. The answers had been wrong and they’d both flunked the test. Lesson learned.

  “Okay, then, if it’s a rejection, I’m not going to miss commiserating with you about it.” Something crashed in the background. “Look, I’ve got to go. I never thought someone could actually kill a computer, but I’m not so sure about this guy. I’ll see you about 6:15.”

  24

  Mitch brought Clancy inside with him when he arrived at the house. Octavia’s fur electrified. Clancy’s legs stiffened. Hiss … bark. Octavia surprised Cate by then tentatively touching noses with the dog, but she followed the touch with a “gotcha!” swipe of paw. Clancy’s heavy shoulders stiffened, and he looked ready to retaliate with a snap of his big jaws, but he apparently decided a better payback was beating her to that window-seat spot they both favored.

  “Have you called Kane’s son yet?” Cate asked.

  “I tried about an hour ago, but he didn’t answer. I’ll try again.”

  Cate thought he meant later, but he immediately grabbed the phone clipped to his belt. He lifted a finger to indicate to Cate that the phone was ringing this time.

  Mitch identified himself and explained why he was calling. “I’m willing to pay—”

  The response from Warren Blakely was brief. He broke in and ended the call before Mitch even had a chance to finish the sentence.

  “He hardly listened to you! He wants Clancy himself?”

  “He said he didn’t even know his father had a dog. I was trying to tell him I’d pay for Clancy, but he didn’t give me a chance. He just said, do whatever you want. He doesn’t want a dog.”

  “Clancy could wind up in the dog pound, for all he knows!”

  “Right.”

  “What a hard-hearted attitude.”

  “Yeah, isn’t it?” Mitch’s eyebrows momentarily scrunched, but then he grinned. “But who cares? I get to keep Clancy. Hey, Clance, c’mon over here.”

  Clancy deserted that favored spot on the window seat and ran to Mitch for a roughhousing on the carpet. Cate grabbed a lamp before it went down in the mêlée. Octavia climbed up to her walkway and stared down with cat horror on such immature behavior. Man and dog both got up looking considerably rumpled and rather embarrassed.

  With somewhat more dignity, Mitch said, “Okay, you’re my dog and I’m your person now. Want to shake on it?” He held out his hand.

  Clancy offered him a big paw, and they shook.

  “Now we have two things to celebrate,” Mitch said to Cate. He offered her more than a handshake. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the nose. He grinned again.

  “You look awfully happy for a guy who started out making the big sacrifice of keeping a dog for a night and is now stuck with him permanently.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s kind of worked his big, hairy, slobbery way into my heart.”

  “I’m glad. For both of you.”

  And she was. But where, she wondered when he looked back at the dog with fond pride, did a certain redhead fit into his heart?

  Uncle Joe didn’t make Cate wait when they reached the house. He handed her the envelope as soon as they walked in. She ripped it open and stared at the contents. Name spelled right? Yes. Address correct? Yes. Correct type of license, not one that gave her the right to spray for termites or sell insurance? Yes.

  Cate Kinkaid was now a fully licensed private investigator in the State of Oregon! She also had an official identification card, with the reasonably flattering photo she’d sent them. She passed both around for everyone to see.

  Uncle Joe and Rebecca both hugged her. Mitch kissed her cheek. Clancy stuck his nose into her armpit.

  “Take a bow,” Uncle Joe said. “You did it!”

  Cate dipped into a little curtsy. She held up the newly minted license as if it were an Oscar award. Breathlessly she said, “I want to thank all of you for making this possible. I couldn’t have done it without you! Thank you, Uncle Joe, for giving me this opportunity. Thank you, Rebecca, for putting up with me while I lived here. Thank you, Mitch, for your help when I needed you. Clancy, thank you for—whatever. And, of course, I want to thank my cat and my parents and my third grade teacher—”

  “We get the picture,” Mitch said.

  Cate smiled at her own giddiness. “But I really do thank all of you.”

  Uncle Joe, as if he suspected this could get maudlin, headed for the dining room. “Okay, let’s eat.”

  Cate stared at the license once more before following, and this time she offered a special private thanks. Hey, Lord, I didn’t know I wanted to be a private investigator when you stuck me in this job. But you had plans, didn’t you? Thank you. Help me to be what you want me to be and to do my very best for you.

  Dinner was Rebecca’s special chicken and rice casserole, followed by the carrot cake. She’d decorated it especially for the occasion, with a detective figure bent over, peering through a magnifying glass, the redicing hair unmistakably Cate’s. Uncle Joe took photos of her, the cake, and Mitch in all possible combinations. Mitch grabbed the camera and got more combinations of people, dog, and cake. Then they ate the cake, with even Clancy getting his sliver to celebrate with them.

  It wasn’t until the meal was over and they were back in the living room that Uncle Joe got down to the more serious aspect of Cate’s new status. First he told her the identification card should be carried with her at all times, and the PI license should be displayed on the wall of her office.

  Cate said she’d do that but added, “Although I’ve never actually had a client in my office, so probably no one will ever see it anyway.”

  “But you are Belmont Investigations now, at least you will be as soon as we get the transfer made, so you may have an occasional client in your office. Actually, I think you should consider getting a professional office outside your home as soon as possible, because you never know what kind of clients may show up. You’ll want to change the business name, of course.”

  “I’ll be happy to leave it just as it is—”

  “I don’t need a memorial,” Uncle Joe stated firmly. “Belmont Investigations is galloping off into the sunset. So you can pick something entirely your own. Let’s see, what should it be? Hilltop Investigations, to suggest your location? Eugene Investigations? No, too generic. Cate and Cat Investigations?”

  Cate laughed. Cate and Cat Investigations had a certain cachet. She was rather tempted by it. “I’m thinking along more traditional lines. Kinkaid Investigations.”

  Uncle Joe nodded approvingly. “I’ve already talked to our lawyer friend Ledbetter, and he’ll draw up the papers transferring the business ownership to you. We’ll move the files and my research library over to your place. We also need to transfer all the information off my computer onto yours, although I’m not sure how to do that.”

  “I can do it,” Mitch offered.

  “Good.” Uncle Joe went on about getting a new business license in Cate’s name, arranging for insurance and bond, joining the state association of private investigators, and various other details involved in running an investigative business. “So you come over tomorrow and we’ll go through the files. Then, when we get back, we’ll sign whatever papers need to be signed and—”

  That made a dent in Cate’s giddiness. “Back from where?” />
  “We’re leaving day after tomorrow to spend the next week over on the coast. Or maybe we’ll make it ten days—”

  “Or two weeks,” Rebecca put in. “Maybe three.”

  “Right,” Uncle Joe agreed. “That’s what retired people in a motor home do, you know. Free as birds with an open migration schedule.”

  Rebecca produced an oak frame suitable for the license, and then they all admired the framed license. Cate tried to look and sound happy. Hey, she was happy! For Joe and Rebecca. For herself. But some dismay apparently leaked through because Uncle Joe leaned over and picked up the license in its new frame.

  He shook it at her. “That was the whole point of this, remember?” His voice gentled. “A business of your own for you, retirement for me.”

  Well, yeah, but … um … uh …

  Uncle Joe reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. You’ve already proved you can handle anything, up to and including killers.”

  Not on her current case, she hadn’t. Somebody still had Halliday targeted, and she didn’t know who.

  Mitch had his news about Clancy to share too, and then everyone had to shake the dog’s big paw in congratulations. It was close to 10:00 before the celebration broke up.

  As Cate and Mitch headed to the door, Rebecca went to wrap up the cake leftovers to send home with Cate, and Uncle Joe said, “Oh, one more thing.”

  He went into his office, and Cate heard him unlocking the one desk drawer that was always locked. He came back carrying a black leather holster. With gun inside, big and dark and dangerous.

  “This is yours now. Part of what goes with Belmont Investigations.” He held the holster out to her, but she just eyed the gift warily.

  “Uncle Joe, Dad let me shoot his .22 rifle a few times, but I don’t know a thing about handguns.”

  “There are a couple of shooting ranges with instructors here in town. Take the gun there and learn.”

  “Do I really need a gun?”

  “I haven’t needed one often in my career as a PI. But when I did need it, it saved lives. Mine and several others.”

  Cate nodded slowly. She tentatively unwound her fingers and stuck her hand out. He draped the belt of the holster over it. Heavy. Deadly. Hers.

  Back in Mitch’s SUV, she set the remainder of the cake on the console between them and laid the holster carefully across her lap. At the house, she just as carefully hung it on a hook on the far wall opposite her desk. It definitely gave the office a different ambiance.

  An ambiance that said, “I’m a tough PI and don’t you forget it.”

  It issued a blatant warning, “Don’t mess with me. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  Or maybe what it really said was, “This is just for show because this PI doesn’t even know how to put bullets in a gun.”

  Octavia came and jumped on the file cabinet so she could inspect the gun. She backed off and hissed at it.

  “Opinion duly noted,” Cate told her. “Although you may change your mind if we’re ever attacked by a herd of super-mice with an appetite for deaf cats and redheaded PIs.”

  Mitch had come inside with her. He didn’t stay, but at the door he put his arms around her.

  “I know I can be kind of a …” He paused, as if trying to think of a proper word, and Cate, even though some less-than-complimentary terms came to mind, didn’t try to fill in for him. “I can be narrow-minded about your being a PI, but I really am proud of you. Getting your own license is a great accomplishment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May I offer a congratulatory kiss?”

  Cate smiled at his formality. “You may.”

  And he gave her that kiss. A kiss that was sweetly tender, a daisies and sunshine, violets and moonlight kind of kiss. But a kiss that deepened and went on until she felt it right down to her toes. A lightning and fireworks, flash-bang and sizzle kiss.

  If she’d been wearing socks, it would definitely have scorched them off her feet. She felt breathless and giddy, as if she’d had one too many spins on some upside-down carnival ride, and she had to wiggle her toes to be sure her feet were still on the floor. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  “I-I feel well congratulated.”

  He grinned. “That was my intention.”

  25

  Cate spent most of the next day with Uncle Joe. He brought her up to date on a couple of minor but active cases she hadn’t been involved in. They hauled files on old, long-closed cases up to the attic for storage.

  He gave her contact information for experts he had consulted in the past, everyone from an authority on poisons to an expert on historic houses in the area. Then there was the beekeeping expert. Cate couldn’t imagine ever needing that one, but Uncle Joe just smiled and reminded her that the PI business could be strange and unpredictable. They loaded as many of the books in his reference library as her car could handle. He gave her a couple of boxes of bullets to go with the gun.

  She started setting up her own library when she got home. She put the boxes of bullets in a drawer near the gun, then stood back and considered both gun and bullets with a certain ambivalence. She’d thought often enough about the day she could actually carry a gun in her PI work. Now she had a PI license and a gun.

  Be careful what you wish for; you may get it?

  That evening, she and Mitch returned to Uncle Joe’s, and Mitch transferred all the relevant files from Uncle Joe’s computer to hers. They loaded the metal file cabinet and the remainder of the reference library books into the SUV. Rebecca added some potted plants that wouldn’t survive in the house without care. Her worried expression suggested she wasn’t sure they would survive with Cate’s care.

  “I’m going to miss you guys. I suppose you’re getting up at the crack of dawn to take off?”

  Uncle Joe and Rebecca looked at each other. “No way,” he said.

  “We’re throwing away clocks and calendars. God gave us this special time of life together, and we’re going to enjoy it.” In a whispered aside to Cate, but one which her husband surely couldn’t miss, Rebecca added, “Sometimes I’ve been afraid Joe was going to wind up as the World’s Oldest Working PI. I’m really glad the Lord sent you to keep that from happening.”

  Back home, Cate and Mitch unloaded everything, with Octavia inspecting each item. Clancy claimed the window seat while she was busy sniffing a book called Diary of a Cat Burglar, which was surely just another of those odd coincidences. Mitch seemed rather preoccupied this evening. Not really distant or withdrawn, but he definitely had something on his mind as they worked.

  “Everything progressing okay with the sale?” she asked tentatively as they took a Pepsi break in the kitchen.

  “Going good. Just a couple of minor details to work out yet. They’ve offered me a job, Coordinator of Special Projects.”

  “Hey, great!”

  “It’s in their Seattle office.”

  Cate concealed a ten-story plunge somewhere inside her. “Are you going to take it?”

  “It might be the smart thing to do.” Mitch paused, sloshing the Pepsi in the can reflectively. “The company Lance is going to work for down in Texas has contacted me too.”

  “Looks as if you have your choice then, of where you want to live and work.” Cate tried to sound pleasantly supportive. She wanted to be glad for Mitch that he had good opportunities. She would be glad for him, even if it felt like trying to make cheesecake out of sawdust. “That’s really great.”

  “But I think I’m ready for something new,” Mitch said.

  He didn’t expand on that thought. Cate wondered if he was waiting for her to ask what something new, but her stubborn streak surfaced and she didn’t do it. If he wanted to be male-mysterious, she wasn’t going to beg for his thoughts. He’d be coming out of the sale of Computer Dudes with an impressive chunk of money. Maybe he had in mind loafing with Clancy in the Caribbean for a year, or making a man-and-dog world tour.

>   She gave herself a mental whack. Now she was sounding jealous of a dog.

  “Hey, I was thinking. I need to talk to someone tomorrow morning, but maybe later we could take Clancy for a run somewhere?” Cate suggested.

  “How about if while you’re busy I come over and get the ground rototilled for that garden you were talking about? I’ve already talked to Hank Bowman at church about borrowing his rototiller this weekend.”

  Garden? Would Mitch be interested in planting a garden unless he expected to be around to benefit from it? Cate’s spirits lifted with a trampoline bounce, then sank just as quickly. Yeah, Mitch would help plant a garden even if he’d be a thousand miles away when it started producing. Mitch was like that.

  “I bought a bunch of seeds, so that sounds great,” Cate said.

  She could plan all kinds of menus with produce from the garden. Solitary Squash. Lonely Lettuce. Onions for One.

  Mitch arrived the next morning before Cate left for the convenience store to talk to Lily, rototiller and various other tools jumbled in the back of his SUV. By the time she left, Mitch and the machine were churning a trail through the dirt in a corner of the yard. Clancy sniffed every overturned clod, occasionally pausing to dig as if he sensed buried treasure. Although she had to wonder with some uneasiness exactly what Clancy might consider “treasure.”

  The visit to the convenience store was brief. Another clerk said Lily was working this weekend, but she wouldn’t be in until 1:00. Cate drove to Lily and Andy’s apartment and warily peered down the driveway from the street. Lily’s pickup stood in front of the apartment, so she was home. Cate had no way of knowing if Andy Timmons was also there, and she couldn’t think of any good excuse to offer for dropping in if he was home.