Suds and Sam For Hire

by Stella Marie Alden

  I need to know if my suspect visited any of the cities where the supposed random accidents occurred.

  Using my FBI access, I research until I’m damn sure Follet is my man. The only trouble is, about six months ago, he went totally silent. If he was dead, I’d find an obituary. My guess is, he went off the grid.

  While I’m investigating the Good Health case, I get a ping from my old boss, Kessler, asking how soon I can get to the FBI office in Manhattan.

  I give him my ETA but he’s not happy and tells me to expect a driver in ten minutes because the serial slasher has struck again. Hey, I’m pissed, too. If he hadn’t fired me, perhaps this new death wouldn’t’ve happened.

  What the hell are all those Irish analysts doing, huh? And, with thousands of cameras watching over the city, how is the killer able to avoid detection?

  When I get to the FBI office, I study their boards and speak with the lead investigators. Then, I run a few of my programs I had perfected over the years.

  After tweaking a few variables and with access to the AI unit, I get a hit. You might think they’d give me kudos and congrats, but no. Instead, I’m summarily dismissed.

  “Thank you, Ms. Russo. We’ll take it from here.” My old boss Kessler leads me to the door. “If you want in, all you have to do is whistle. I’ll start the paperwork. However, as an outsider, this is as far as you can go.”

  I think of the huge bill Slate sent to the FBI, and my cut, as well. I also recall how demoralized I was, losing my job after fifteen years of service.

  “Okay, let me know when you get stuck again.” I turn my back to him but he grabs my shoulder.

  “We can offer you more money, better benefits, relocation…”

  “You have my email. Go ahead and give it your best shot. I’ll think about it.”

  For a moment, it sounds grand until I recall how he fired me. What’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?

  Nope. I like being my own boss.

  Chapter 9

  Suds

  “You pull a stunt like that again, you can find yourself another bodyguard.” Even at quadruple my regular salary, my patience with the prima donna is at an end.

  I hold her upper arm and lead her to the car where she breaks free and stomps her foot. “What happened to you, Sebastian? Last year was loads of fun. I never would’ve invited you if I had known there was a girlfriend in the picture.”

  “Tiera, listen. I’m sorry you got the wrong impression but you and I are not going to hook up.” I curse myself up a storm while getting her out of the club, across the snowbank, and into the back seat of my SUV.

  After turning on the heat. I glance in the rearview mirror. “I’m your bodyguard, Tiera. Nothing else. If you want a good lay, there’s plenty of guys on the slopes willing to fuck you.”

  “Don’t be crude.” When her lower lip goes out in a well-practiced pout with fake tears, I can’t believe I used to fall for her bullshit.

  “Crude seems to be the only language you understand, darlin’.”

  Back at the A-frame, I wait for Tiera’s snores before attempting to call my girl. I get no answer but there’s a message from her dad. Worried, I try his personal cell and he picks up almost immediately.

  “Sutcliff?”

  “Is Sam okay?” Sitting on the edge of my bed, I hold my breath hoping she’s not in the hospital or worse.

  “She is, but no thanks to you. You need to convince her to drop this detective foolishness. We both know she’s not cut out to be a private eye.”

  “You should discuss this with your daughter.” I clear my throat. No way will I betray Sam, even if at times, I wholeheartedly agree.

  Her father curses. “The only person she’ll listen to, is you. Now, it’s not that I don’t like you, son. You’ve got a fine service record and Grayson Patten has nothing but great things to say about you… but you’re not for Sam. She went to the finest colleges. She’s brilliant. She needs a man more her equal.”

  “I see… someone more like her ex?” My barb about the writer-leech must hit home because there’s silence on the line for a good twenty seconds before he continues.

  “You make my case for me. Samantha is not a good judge of men.”

  Rather than hurl insults back and forth, I take the high road and keep silent which only incenses him further.

  “You think I don’t know what’s going on in Utah? You may have her fooled but not me. You stay clear of Sam. You hear what I’m saying?”

  I would tell him to go fuck himself but this is my future father-in-law. “I hear you, sir, but, with all due respect, I fully intend to make your daughter my wife, with or without your blessin’ and I know she feels the same.”

  “You’re going to get her killed.”

  “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “From Utah? Fucking some actress? Good luck.” He hangs up and despite my bravado, I get antsy. The last time my stomach churned like this, Sam was kidnapped.

  Shit. I call her and thank God when she picks up.

  “Sunshine? You good?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Nothing. I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall for Tiera’s bullshit. Damn. That girl is bad news.”

  My girl sighs. “I’m glad you called. I have to admit, I had a moment.”

  I lean back on the bed, close my eyes, and picture the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with. “I’ll swear on a stack of bibles. My cock shrivels every time she opens her mouth. I may be permanently damaged and have to sue.”

  Her little snicker sounds in my earbuds. “Wow. Did you take measurements? Before and after? To make it to court, you’ll need proof.”

  “I didn’t.” I hold back my chuckle because Sam is on a roll.

  “I suppose I could be your witness but still, it’ll be hard to make a case. You might have to whip it out as evidence.”

  Despite all the shit going on in my life, I start laughing. This is why I love her so much.

  While I dry my eyes, she changes her tone. “Oh, speaking of funny, my old boss offered me my job back.”

  My heart stops pumping. “And?”

  “I told him to pound sand but not in so many words. Actually, I told Slate to charge Uncle Sam an arm and a leg for my services.”

  “Damn. Way to go.” I give her my heartiest virtual high five, but after the call with her dad, I wonder.

  Am I holding her back? She wants babies, cats, and a nice apartment in the burbs. I’m pretty sure I can get her everything, but maybe not as fast as she’d like.

  Women got this internal clock ticking away and she is over thirty. What if we can’t make a go of this new venture? Will she resent me if we can’t have kids?

  I take a deep breath and hope I won’t be sorry I asked. “Are you sure Suds and Sam is what you want? Running your own business can be hard work and is never a sure thing.”

  “Are you chickening out, tough guy?” The hurt in her tone makes me feel like a piece of shit.

  “Not at all.” I let go the air from my lungs and change the subject real fast. “So, tell me about your two cases. What’s taking you so long?”

  “Well, the hit and run was supposed to be easy-squeezy but I found some weird coincidences needing further research.”

  Standing, I pace between the foot of the bed and the antique bureau. “Like?”

  “It could be nothing but a whole lot of Good Health employees had freak mishaps, all within a short time span.”

  “Are any of the incidences related?”

  “Not sure. In a company that size, statistically, a few would be normal but a dozen? Probably not. The accidents weren’t close, geographically, so no one noticed.”

  “What’s the common thread?” While I listen, I glance out at the amazing view of the slopes, lit up for night skiing.

  Sam sighs and clicks her tongue. “I had one lead but I think the guy may have died or possibly gone off the grid. I passed the information onto the FBI but with the serial killer case, i
t won’t get much attention until he’s found.”

  My heart races as I put two and two together. “Is that why the FBI called you in? To help with the slasher?”

  “Yeah but don’t worry. I ran a few of my old programs and a few possibilities popped up. Then, they let me go. Kessler said he would call me if they needed anything more. It kind of pissed me off. I wanted to follow up like I used to. It feels so weird being on the outside.”

  “Sugar, you can always go back. We could work it out.”

  “Only if you want me to.” Her voice quivers.

  “I want what’s best for you.”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound like it. Maybe you’re the one who needs a little more freedom and I’m the one preventing it.”

  “Hell, no. Now you’re puttin’ words into my mouth. I only want you safe.”

  “Did my dad call you?”

  “Maybe…”

  “God damn it. Shit. Now look what you made me do. I haven’t broken the fourth commandment since confession.”

  I don’t remind her, before our Christmas caper, she broke it at least ten times a day. “Your father is just lookin’ out for you.”

  “Did you tell him to mind his own business?”

  “Not using those words, exactly…”

  “Fine. I got this. We are not giving up on Sam and Suds. Understand?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Good. And if little Miss Tiera hits on you again, tell her I’m going to find a baseball bat and break her kneecaps.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Good. And tough guy?”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Stay out of trouble, y’hear?”

  “Will do.” When I hang up with her, the feeling in my gut gets worse. Something really bad is about to go down.

  I call Slate, tell him what’s going on with my ESP, and head to the airport. There’s a flight out around midnight, and I can be in New York by early morning.

  Chapter 10

  Sam

  What the hell is wrong with Sebastian? He’s acting so strange. I go over our last conversations and cringe. We’re not really fighting but it’s not good, either.

  Long distance relationships create all sorts of problems and I’m clueless how to handle them. If only he’d tell me what’s on his mind.

  My fingers hover over my phone’s digits. Should I call him? No, he’ll be home next month and things will no doubt go back to the way they were. Maybe we can move in together. That is, if Suds and Sam takes off.

  Picturing a new apartment with no cousins, no Joey, and no blind dates, I open my laptop with renewed energy. The double espresso may also have helped.

  Chloe kneads my shoulders. Maybe I’ll bring her to the hair parlor and charge for cat massages.

  I’m not fooled. She’s trying to get me to lower my guard. She purrs by my ear, curls her claws into my hair, and pulls gently. Then, she hops in my lap, turns around one way, the other, and settles on the sofa with her chin on my thigh.

  “There he is!” I shout, the cat jumps to the ceiling, falls to the floor, and hides under the couch.

  “Sorry.”

  I double check my facts but the man on my screen has to be Robert Follet. Still connected to the FBI database, I locate his sister. She’s working at a Bed and Breakfast in Vermont. Sure as hell, he’s hiding there.

  I’m not real fond of insurance companies but murdering Good Health employees is in bad form. The odd thing is, if it was him, he meant to maim, not kill. The only death in all the incidents was the elderly woman in Manhattan.

  Maybe I’m seeing connections that aren’t really there. If only I could talk to him. I’m sure I could learn more. However, Slate wants me to wrap this up. Lawyers are pushing him for intel so they can proceed with a lawsuit.

  Follet could be their man and needs to be brought to justice. What if everyone went around injuring insurance executives?

  Holy shit! That’s it! If injured, they would know exactly what it feels like to have to deal with Good Health.

  Damn. Why didn’t I think of it before?

  I grab a beer from the fridge and pour a tiny splash for my drinking buddy. “Cheers.”

  A few hours later, I put all my facts together, and after another couple espressos, I’m totally psyched until I check my emails and groan.

  What the fuck?

  The city is going to cancel my application for detective? “Chloe, I cannot believe they don’t think saving your ass is valid fieldwork.”

  Neither do they count freeing myself from a kidnapping. And as for locating the missing nativity statue? I can’t use my work there, either. Uncle Vinny said to keep it quiet.

  Shit, shit, shit. If I can’t come up with some more hours by the end of the month, I’ll need to start over. What a fucking bunch of crap. I need a license, dam…darn it.

  This could put a serious damper on my five-year-plan.

  I know I promised Suds I wouldn’t go spying without him but this is an emergency. I leave a note for Rose and Mia to take care of Chloe while I’m gone and call my partner but it goes straight to voice mail.

  While packing a bag, I schedule an Uber. With my credit card maxed, I decline insurance at the rental place and drive away in a small Chevette.

  Vermont, here I come. I’ll give my tough guy a heads up on the road.

  Chapter 11

  Suds

  Mine was one of the last flights they allowed to land at JFK. Apparently, there’s a nor’easter barreling up the seaboard and it’s already snowing. I call Sam and when I don’t get an answer, I check her GPS.

  Damn the woman. What is she doing on the New York Thruway, halfway up the state?

  Waiting in line for a rental car, I call Lucky, who’s supposed to be watching out for her. “Sam’s on the road near Albany.”

  “So?”

  “You said you’d keep an eye on her.” I study the travelers on the lower deck of the terminal and seeing none with mal intent, relax.

  My pal, on the other hand, takes his voice up a notch. “Crikes, Sebs, she’s a grown sheila. I told her to call me if she needs me. I couldn’t very well sleep in her apartment.”

  “Shit. Sorry, Loch. I know she’s up to something and it’s not good.” In front of me, at the counter, an elderly couple debates the pros and cons of insurance, holding up the line.

  “Has she got any rellies upstate?”

  “None I know of. Everyone I met lives in Brooklyn.” I shift my luggage to the other shoulder and will the queue to move forward.

  “Is she workin’ a case? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Maybe. I told her no field work. She’s still wet behind the ears.”

  “She’ll never get any better if you don’t let out the rope.”

  I lower my voice and speak into my chest. “Fuck. I know but I got a bad feeling.”

  “Like the one you got in Afghanistan?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “Shit. Do ya got any idea where she’s headed?” Things start banging around and Callie’s concerned voice sounds in the background.

  “Not a fucking clue. She called while I was in the air but didn’t leave a message. Where’re you staying?”

  “Me and the family are staying near Jack’s old place. Hold on.” He puts me on mute, no doubt explaining to his wife.

  When he comes back, I ask, “Want to take a drive?”

  “Goin’ upstate in a blizzy? Wouldn’t miss it for the world, mate.”

  After I hang up, I call Sam again, prepared to give her hell but she doesn’t pick up. “Fuck it. C’mon, sunshine. Talk to me.”

  She must be avoiding my calls. Fuck it. I never spanked a woman before in my life, but for this, I will make a goddamned exception.

  I finally get to the desk, sign the rental contract, and make my way from JFK to Bensonhurst. The roads are almost impassible and it takes over two hours to go less than thirty miles. I double
park outside her apartment, barge in, and poke my nose in Joey’s kitchen.

  Just waking up, he comes out in some flannel bottoms and a dingy white t-shirt. “What’s up?”

  “Did Sam tell you where she was going?” I glance up when her two cousins argue on the floor above.

  “No, why?”

  “Let me know if you hear from her.” I take the stairs two at a time and stop below the railing. “Rose, Mia. You decent?”

  “Yeah, come on up.” The oldest of the cousins leans over the iron banister and waves.

  Upstairs, the two sisters, dressed for work, drink coffee, and I feel like a moron for being so concerned. “Do you know where Sam went?”

  “She left this.” Mia drops her spoon, runs into the living room and brings back a note. It seems my partner decided to go skiing and asked them to watch the cat.

  Rose glances over. “You look like you’ve been up all night. Want coffee?”

  “Thank you.” After downing some rocket fuel, I tell them I’m worried about her but leave out the part of my gut-o-meter because it makes most people damned uncomfortable.

  Mia crunches on her cereal. “What’s the big deal? She rented a car and took off to Vermont. She’s no doubt doing some detective-y thingy. Isn’t that what youz guys do?”

  “Uh-huh. But she should’ve asked me first. I’m the one with the license.” Good God, now I sound like a dick and not the private eye kind.

  Rose eyes me. “Would you have agreed?”

  “Not unless I was going with her.”

  Her brows raise and she tilts her head as she crosses her arms. “Seems to me someone’s got issues and it isn’t Sam.”

  “Yeah, well. Maybe so, but her little expedition is a big problem.” I stomp down the stairs.

  Women. They stick together like flies on shit.

  Even though the snow is lessening, I check the weather online, and it’s a whole lot worse upstate. It’s going to take me hours to catch the fuck up with her.

  The rotgut they call coffee burns the lining in my stomach. The last time it acted up, I woke in a sand dune, a few yards from my Hummer with my brothers’ dead eyes staring at me.