Immortal Eyes (PI Assistant Extraordinaire Mystery Book 2)

by Lotta Smith

  “So, how did you find me?” I asked.

  “Dumb luck?” At my disbelieving look, he added, “You don’t want to know.”

  “I want to know,” pressed Henderson. “Tell.”

  “It was lucky Kelly had a GPS device with her, and that Hamilton brought her purse to his house instead of dumping it somewhere. It probably had sentimental meaning for him as a souvenir to remember his achievement and devotion, or something like that. So I got the address, and I discovered his name by looking at the mailbox, but that was about it. He didn’t have a doorbell, so I banged on the door, but got no answer. GPS was still indicating that house. So, I broke into the house. When Alan Hamilton came up to confront me, he didn’t even try to call the police. That was the moment I became convinced he was the killer. My conviction got more solid as he blanched listening to my theory, though it was peppered with assumptions.”

  “But I didn’t have a GPS with me. My old phone was from the Stone Age when phones didn’t have GPS.” I glanced at my brand new smartphone. “Unlike this one.”

  “Still, you were carrying your keys. They have a GPS implanted,” he said nonchalantly. “I don’t like it when my keys go missing somewhere.”

  “Excuse me?” I gasped. “Does that mean you’ve been tracking me since I started working with you? Like, nonstop surveillance? What’s happened to my privacy?”

  “Hey, stop looking at me like a stalker. I said you don’t want to know. Besides that, I thought you’d look cuter with your eyeballs still attached to where they belong.”

  “Oh, now I know how you accidentally came across me in London! You tracked me down with GPS. You know what, that’s outrageous.”

  “No, not that time. You left the keys home. I just presumed you’d be visiting your ex in Belmarsh. Okay, so I called the prison to see if you were visiting there. Besides that, you said you didn’t want to know how I located you then.”

  “You’re impossible, Mr. Archangel.” I did an eye roll. I tried to sound offended, but couldn’t help giggling.

  “Couldn’t you have at least let me know before you went there on your own, Archangel?” Henderson scowled. “Are you aware you took an extreme risk that posed a significant threat to your lives?”

  “Alerting you was not a realistic option, you know. It would have definitely taken time to verify the information, and then comes the paperwork, such as a search warrant. Oh, you do remember I was officially sidelined with the contract being revoked and everything?”

  Arms crossed, Henderson took a deep, calming breath. “I said I was sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” Archangel snorted.

  “By the way, Agent Henderson, would you like to have my new phone number?” I said, in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “There will be times you’ll need to call me, just like you have in the past.”

  “I would appreciate it. Gimme a ring,” Henderson said. I ringed his number just once and disconnected.

  “Speaking of phones, what made you replace it?” Henderson asked as he registered my new number to speed-dial.

  “The old one died.” I shrugged. “Shattered to bits.”

  “Did that happen when you got abducted by the killer? If that’s the case, I can help you recover the loss from the feds.”

  “Thank you for the offer, but no thanks. It happened later on. Anyway, that was a very old phone.”

  “What happened?” Henderson furrowed his brows, seriously confused.

  “You don’t need to know,” Archangel and I said in unison, and I broke out giggling.

  “Stop grinning like an idiot, Kelly,” Archangel said, crossing his arms.

  But I didn’t miss the corner of his lips lifting up ever so slightly, or the melting baby blues.

  EPILOGUE

  Two hours later, Henderson left the office, finally satisfied that he had a chance to catch up with my employer, and the loose ends had been tied up. I stood up and saw him to the door in compensation for my prior discourtesy.

  When I came back, Archangel was removing the front flap from the boot. “Kelly, can you get me an ice bag for this?” he said, slumping on the sofa with his bad leg resting on the cushions.

  “I will.” I hurried to the kitchen to fix the ice bag. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” As soon as I returned, I peppered him with questions while applying the ice bag on his swollen ankle. He was putting up a tough front, but I knew he was still sore.

  “I’m all right. I just felt somewhat feverish in the ankle. When I ignored it a few days earlier, the heat upgraded into a throbbing pain the next day, and I had to stay in bed. So, just to be on the safe side,” he said. Smiling, he took my hand to his lips and kissed the tip of my fingers. “I’m already feeling better, thanks.”

  “Y-yo-you-you’re welcome.” I felt hot in the cheeks. It may have been just a friendly gesture, but it was hot enough to send a jolt of electricity all over my body.

  “You know, Kelly. You’re adorable when you flush.” Chuckling at my reaction, Archangel held my hand. “Have a seat.”

  I sat on the ottoman by his side. As I sat, he closed his eyes, and in a minute or so, he fell fast asleep.

  My lips curled up into a smile. Michael Archangel might be a big cynic, but at least he looked like a lifelike angel when he was sleeping. Still holding his hand, I was recalling the night he got hurt, the same night at which the abduction and the following fiasco happened—.

  When Dr. Donahue treated Archangel and released him from the medical center, the night was no longer young. On my way to deliver him safely to his house, I made a stop at my place to grab some fresh clothes and a toothbrush. He didn’t ask why; he was on pain meds and quietly dozing off.

  He was still pale, and for the first time, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. I didn’t want to leave him alone. A big house sounds fancy, but it’s just a nuisance bordering on dangerous, especially when you have to go around on one leg.

  Thanks to his late distant aunt, the house had an elevator, which was useful when I took semi-coherent Archangel to his bedroom on a rented wheelchair. I helped him lie down on his king-sized bed with his injured leg elevated on the pillows. Then I left his bedroom.

  An hour later, I was sitting by his bedside, putting an ice bag on his left leg in its temporary splint cast. Even under the dimmed light, it was visible that the purple bruises had spread further down to his toenails. His leg looked totally painful.

  I was mumbling a little Japanese spell I heard when I was little.

  “What did you just say?” Archangel asked in a soft voice.

  “Did I wake you?” Caught by surprise, I felt my cheeks get hot. I could think of many reasons, but the biggest one was I thought he wasn’t listening.

  “No, I was awake… for about a minute.” He yawned. “So what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s a Japanese spell, meaning Pain, pain, go away.”

  “Nice. I guess it’s kinda working.” A corner of his lips raised, and then he casually asked, “By the way, Kelly, what are you doing in my bedroom?”

  “I was placing an ice bag on your leg to help the swelling go down. Doctor’s advice.”

  “Thanks.” He tried to sit up and winced.

  “Take it easy.”

  “It’s okay…ouch.” Groaning, he sat up anyway. “Got some water? I have cottonmouth. Maybe it’s the meds.”

  “Sure.” I opened a bottled water on the night table and handed it to him. Good thing I had fetched two of them from the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” He took a gulp.

  “My pleasure,” I said, adjusting the ice bag. “For your information, you don’t want to move a lot, and even when you need to move, stay off of the bad leg, okay? You don’t want the bone to move away from where it’s supposed to be.”

  “It’s just a clean break and I don’t need surgery, right?” Handing me the bottle back, he glanced at his leg propped up on the pillows. “Eww, it looks like a mummy leg.” He grimaced. The heavy bandage st
arted from the base of his toes and went up to just below the knee.

  “Hopefully, no surgery. Tomorrow—” I looked at the clock hanging from the wall indicating two o’clock in the morning “—I mean this afternoon, you’ll have an MRI to see the extent of the soft tissue damage, and it’s up to the MRI results to determine if you can just go with a cast, or proceed with a surgical option. Dr. Donahue was a bit concerned about the swelling and bruising. You really shouldn’t have walked around on this leg.”

  “At first it didn’t hurt that much, so I figured it was just a sprain.” He shrugged and laid down. Twitching the sausage toes peekabooing from the bandage, he frowned. “But I get your point.”

  “Are you in much pain?”

  “I’ll live.” He closed his eyes. “My current biggest problem is that I’ve got to dig out my men’s clothes from the bottom of the closet. Obviously, I can’t wear heels, or rather, a heel. And I’d look silly in skimpy women’s clothes with a men’s sneaker. It really sucks.”

  “Don’t worry. You look just fine in men’s clothes,” I told him. “Hey, I’ll give you a pedi when your leg’s set in a real cast. That’ll cheer you up, right?”

  “You sure?” Long eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

  “Yup, pinky swear.”

  “Very funny, but nice,” he said. “Maybe it’s about time to ditch the women’s clothes. The transvestite thing’s been getting old these days. Still, I can use a pedi. Those purple toenails are simply depressing. I’ll have a yellow pedi. Yellow goes well with the purple bruises, you know.”

  “Speaking of fashion, can I ask you the reason you started to wear women’s garments?” I asked. I had a feeling that it was an untouchable subject, but I asked it anyway. Tonight, he was more talkative than ever, perhaps due to the medications.

  His face turned stern, like he was thinking hard.

  “If you don’t want to tell, you don’t need to—”

  “No, you don’t need to take back your question,” he said. “As I said before, you’re entitled to ask me personal questions as my personal assistant.”

  My ears perked up. As far as I knew, Archangel wasn’t big about sharing his personal life with me. In addition, his words helped me feel appreciated.

  After a pause, he said, “In the beginning, this transvestite thing was meant to be a payback.”

  “What—?” For a moment, I suspected he was kidding. I couldn’t think of cross-dressing as a good tactic for retribution, but his face and the tone of his voice indicated otherwise. He was serious.

  “You met my ex-fiancée, right?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “I wanted to get even with her, by demonstrating I looked better than her in women’s garments. I was confident with my looks, and considering the designers in high fashion brands tend to employ female models with bodies like adolescent boys, I was positive to beat her. In addition, I was more than keen on scoffing her.”

  “And the ex-fiancée would be…” I hesitated. “Bitchtricia?”

  “Bitchtricia? Yep, the Congresswoman. Why hadn’t I come up with the nickname before?” Well, I’m not supposed to be telling you—I mean, I’m not supposed to tell anyone—about this, after signing nondisclosure agreement, but tonight, it’s the meds talking. By the way, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll say that you have a very active imagination.”

  “Got it. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Good. So, I was engaged to her, with the wedding scheduled in three months, and the honeymoon trip to Paris reserved. One evening, I left work early and foolishly, dropped in at her apartment. I had a spare key of the apartment, and she was supposed to be working late. Without doubting, I went inside. I was young.”

  “And?” I whispered.

  “I heard a noise from the bedroom, like someone was moaning. I thought someone had broken in and assaulted her, so I stormed into the bedroom, with my gun drawn. Inside, she was engaged in a naked rodeo on the bed, with a certain horse race jockey,” he groaned.

  I was right. Bitchtricia was a bitch.

  “Well,” I muttered, “That’s why you don’t like horse racing.”

  “I detest horse racing with or without the incident,” he snorted.

  “I see.”

  “So, I cancelled everything—the wedding, the flights, and the hotel. I had even quit the FBI, though the reason for it was mostly because I wasn’t good with the bureaucracy. Immediately, I started up my own business as a private investigator. Henderson took a pity on me, and gave me the first case, which was moderately high profile. I knew my ex-fiancée was at the crime scene, as Henderson asked me if I didn’t mind her presence over and over. So, I went to the crime scene in the similar outfit she used to sport, and did some recap of the bedroom rodeo.”

  “Wow, that’s aggressive.”

  “I know. I was pissed off.” He grinned. “The look in her face was spectacular. Indeed, she looked as if she was shooting a lethal laser beam from her eyes. Anyway, I was planning to wear women’s getup just once, but I got unexpected attention from the media covering that particular case. At that time, I was just another ex-FBI turned PI craving for some recognition, so, I decided to go with women’s clothes for a while.”

  “Good thing you looked nice in skirts and high heels.”

  “Yeah, except I was having a hard time figuring out when to go back to men’s outfit. Nowadays, I often had nightmares about myself getting old. Imagine fifty-year-old version of me in a bunny girl getup. What a pathetic dude.”

  “Hmm…I’m a little tempted to see that version of you,” I commented.

  “No, that’s not happening. Anyway, a broken ankle makes a good excuse for a drastic change in my appearance.” He chuckled. “By the way, Kelly, you smell like my shampoo.”

  “Oh…” I felt like Goldilocks caught sleeping in little bear’s bed. “I took a bath and borrowed your shampoo. You know, I had to wash off death, Eyeball Snatcher, and burnt flesh cooties. I should have asked you, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “No problem. You can stay here. Take any of the guest rooms you like,” he said breezily.

  “Thank you, but I don’t feel like staying in your guest room,” I said, giggling. I didn’t know why I was giggling, but I couldn’t stop. “I’m a little bit freaked out, you know. I haven’t breathed fire for a while, and I’ve never actually burned a person with my fire and, gosh, it feels terrible.”

  I thought I was giggling, but in the next moment, I was babbling, hyperventilating, and crying at the same time. I was shaking like a junky. It was like the panic, agitation, and fear I should have felt earlier had suddenly arrived, saying something like: “Sorry I’m late, heavy traffic, and there was this accident involving ten vehicles; can you believe that?”

  “Take a deep breath. Kelly, you did the right thing.” He took my hand and pulled me close, caressing my cheeks and brushing the tears away. “If you hesitated, both you and Karen—and even I—might have gotten killed. You saved us all, sort of. Remember, you did the right thing.”

  “You think?” I sniffed and rested my head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat for twenty seconds made me feel much better.

  “Yeah. Don’t cry. I really hate it when you cry,” he said, patting my hand. “Anyway, you really need to rest.”

  “Resting can wait. Right now, I’m scared of closing my eyes being alone.”

  “All right then,” Archangel said after a couple of moments. “If you promise not to kick my bad leg, you can sleep here.” He patted the empty space by his right side.

  “Oh…” I muttered. Jeez Louise, that was not something I had anticipated or expected.

  “One question,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not getting pregnant.” He shrugged. “Did I mention my leg’s still throbbing?”

  “That’s not the one on my mind, but do you want one more pain pill?”

  �
��Can I have it mouth to mouth?” He grinned playfully.

  “Well, it sounds like you don’t need it,” I commented, lightly punching his arm.

  “Hey, don’t forget I’m injured. Just because I don’t need another pain pill right now doesn’t mean I’m unscathed.” He chuckled. “So, go ahead, ask your question.”

  “Have you ever been romantically involved with my mother?”

  “No. Never.” He snorted with laughter and flinched. “Hey, don’t make me laugh. I’ve met her only once or twice, and she was dating an associate of my uncle. We talked about many things, like Korin Ogata’s screens, Rinpa school paintings, and the current trends in Far East art scene. Anyway, it was great meeting her.”

  “Good. Excellent.” I snuggled in his bed. “I was just asking. It’s my motto not to sleep on the same bed with a guy whom my mother has slept with.”

  “I see,” he said, fumbling with the remote on the nightstand, killing the light. “Good night.”

  Soon, Archangel’s soft breathing filled the dark and I started to doze off as well. Then my phone started beeping on the chair where I left it.

  “What’s that?” Archangel groaned.

  “My phone, sorry. I’m switching it off,” I apologized.

  “No, don’t just switch it off. Take the call,” he told me. “Unless it’s from Henderson. If it’s him, just ignore it. He’ll get all antsy, but he can wait.”

  I flipped open the phone to see a number starting with 4420, a London number. “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello, darling, it’s me,” on the other side, an elderly man said in a chipper tone. Silently, I sucked in air.

  “Who is it?” I said with the warmth of absolute zero temperature.

  I felt my already tense body stiffen up even more to the point I wondered if I was having a heart attack.

  “It’s Warren. Gosh, it hurts when you don’t recognize me, luv,” he started without any signs of shame or common sense.

  “Warren who?” I said innocently.

  Soft light spilled into the darkness. Archangel offered to take the call and make a point. I shook my head and snapped to the person at the other end, “Stop luv-ing on me.”