A Match Made in Mystery (11 page)

Amy blinked, caught off-guard by his response. “Really?’

“That’s among the more polite things she told me, right before she set her sights on Eric.” He parked the car. “Not that he was interested. He’s more the brainless bimbo type. Ultimately, she ended up with neither of us.”

Without thinking, Amy reached out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, just as he’d done for her the day before. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Turning in his seat, he caught her hand before she could put it back in her lap. Staring into her eyes, he pressed his lips to the underside of her wrist.

She wondered if he could feel her pulse leap in response as a jolt of sensation zipped from the spot his mouth touched to her feminine core.

He winked at her as he released her wrist and hopped out of the car.

Her legs wobbled like Jello as she climbed out of her seat.

“Phyllis was Milton Willen’s secretary for forty years,” Brady explained as he led the way into the building.  “If anyone can decipher it, she can. Heck, she probably typed it up.”

“It’s nice of you to take me to see her on a Saturday. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looked flashed her a smile.

Her heartbeat stuttered just a bit.

They’d barely entered the lobby when a voice rang out. “If it isn’t Baby.”

“I brought you candy, Phyllis.” Brady waved the box of chocolate like it was a white flag at the older woman dressed in bright orange from head-to-toe shuffled toward them.

“Lara’s trained you well.” Phyllis offered a wrinkled cheek for Brady to kiss.

He obliged.

“And you’re the mystery woman?” Phyllis leveled her rheumy-eyed gaze at Amy.

Forcing herself to smile, Amy said with false cheer, “I’m Amy Winn. Thank you for taking the time to see us.”

Phyllis waved her hand to encompass the lobby. “It’s not like my dance card is overflowing with suitors and I’m always happy to see Baby.”

Amy shot Brady a curious look.

“I’m the youngest of six,” he explained with a shrug. “I’m the baby of the family.”

“How is your mother?” Phyllis asked, tucking her hand into the crook of Brady’s elbow and leading the way toward a seating area. “Is she enjoying her retirement?”

“She’s enjoying being a grandmother,” Brady replied.

Amy followed behind, eavesdropping on the conversation.

After she’d settled herself into an overstuffed chair and indicated that Brady and Amy should sit on the couch opposite her, Phyllis asked, “And you? How are you enjoying your employment with Michelman and Willen?”

“It’s never dull,” Brady replied easily.

Phyllis narrowed her gaze shrewdly. “You’re nearing the end of your agreement.”

Brady nodded.

“Leaving?’

Amy watched Brady closely.

He seemed to choose his words carefully. “It’s not the same without Milton.”

The old woman pursed her lips and said mysteriously, “He’d have wanted you to.”

“Wanted me to stay?” Brady blurted out curiously.

Phyllis patted his hand. “Wanted you to leave, dear boy. He only made your working at the firm a contingency of your agreement because he thought you’d be too proud to accept the offer otherwise.”

Brady sat back in his seat, giving Amy the impression that the revelation had caught him off guard. She wondered what kind of agreement Brady had entered into with Milton Willen.

Shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts, Brady said, “We’re not here to talk about me, Phyllis. I’m trying to help Ms. Winn. Rex Leeves delivered a letter to her that Lara thought you might be able to decode.”

Phyllis turned her gaze to Amy. “You saw Rex?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How is he?”

Amy swallowed hard before saying gently, “Dying. Lung cancer.”

“Damn,” Phyllis muttered. “Can’t say I’m surprised, the man always did smoke more than a forest fire. Show me this letter he brought you.”

Amy handed it to her and then held her breath.

Pulling a pair of reading glasses out of a pocket, Phyllis plunked them on her nose and scanned the sheet carefully. “You need to look in the Ellis v. Snyder file from ninety-four.”

Brady grinned. “Sounds easy enough.”

“And it says your mother has the key.”

Amy exhaled a painful gasp. This had been a wild goose chase. She’d wasted her time. She’d wasted Brady’s time. She’d never figure out what the mysterious letter meant. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward.

Brady wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, holding her upright so that she didn’t pitch face-first to the ground.

“Are you alright, dear?’ Phyllis asked, alarmed.

“My mother’s been dead for a number of years. I don’t recall her having any mysterious keys.”

Phyllis patted her knee. “Not your mother. Baby’s.”

“My mom?” Brady asked on a strangled gasp.

Phyllis nodded. “Your mother was Milton Willen’s junior secretary. Of course that was over twenty years ago. No wonder you don’t remember it.” Phyllis paused, regarding them with a small smile. “Lara was right.”

“Right about what?” Brady asked.

“About the kind of couple you two make.”

“We’re not,” Amy stammered quickly, feeling her cheeks warm. She tried to shake off the arm Brady had draped around her shoulders, but the weight didn’t budge. “We’re not a couple.”

“Is that true?” Phyllis squinted at Brady.

Amy stole a glance at him to see his response.

He shrugged, but then winked cheekily at the older woman.

Chuckling, she waved them away, popping a chocolate-covered cherry into her mouth.

“Why’d you do that?” Amy demanded to know the moment they were out of the home. She clenched her hands at her sides to keep from punching his shoulder like she did when Diego annoyed her.

Brady stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled down at her. “Do what?”

“Let her think that we’re…” Amy waved her arms wildly back and forth between them. “That you and I… We’re not.”

Leaning forward so that he could whisper in her ear, he said, “We could be.”

“No. We can’t.” Amy whirled away and stalked toward his car.

He easily fell into step beside her, matching her stride. “Why not?”

“Because… the world just doesn’t work that way.”

“What way?” he asked, opening her car door for her. “Two people can’t meet, find each other attractive, get to know each other?”

“Not you and I.” She slammed her door closed, shutting him out. Needing a moment alone to gather her wayward thoughts and get a handle on her emotions.

“And what makes us so different from everyone else in the universe?” Brady asked, settling himself behind the steering wheel.

“You have a life,” she reminded him, “and I’m no catch.”

Brady calmly started the car and began driving, mulling over her argument.

Amy stared out the passenger window, blinking back tears, even though she didn’t know why she was on the brink of crying.

“Why don’t you explain what you meant by that?” Brady suggested quietly.

Amy shook her head.

“C’mon,” he wheedled. “After all, I
am
spending my Saturday with you. That’s got to be worth something.”

Amy took a shaky breath, realizing she did owe him an explanation of sorts considering all he’d done for her. “You have a career and nice things and you probably play golf.”

“Hate golf,” he murmured.

Undeterred she pushed on. “And I work two jobs, both of which I hate, and live on the wrong side of town.”

“What’s your other job?”

“I’m a glorified clerk in a hospital. I spend my whole day accepting urine samples.”

“That does sound pretty crappy,” he commiserated.

“The point is our lives don’t fit together. We’re like two jigsaw pieces, but the problem is we’re from two different puzzles.”

“Given this a lot of thought, have you?”

“You haven’t?”

She could have kicked herself when he remained silent. Just because she’d spent half the night trying to figure out whether they had any kind of future together, didn’t mean he had.

Finally, he asked, “So what do you want to do if it’s not collect specimens and wait tables?”

“I want to finish school.”

“You said you weren’t a student,” he reminded her.

“I’m not currently enrolled in a higher learning institution.”

He chuckled. “But you were?”

“Yes.”

“Studying to be what?”

“A social worker,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Of course.”

“Of course?”

“Anyone who’d come to the aid an old lady getting mugged would have to choose a helping profession. Social work makes sense. Then again, so does superhero-ism.”

“That’s my secret job,” she joked.

He laughed and the sound thrilled her.

“So why’d you quit?” he asked.

“I developed an allergy to spandex,” she quipped quickly, wanting to keep him amused.

“No. Really. Why’d you quit?”

“My mom got sick.”

“I’m sorry. Was it…?” He trailed off uncomfortably.

Her former sense of elation evaporating as she remembered the struggle of her mother’s illness, her eyes once again filled with tears. “She died on my twentieth birthday.”

“How awful for you.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes until Brady asked, “You never went back to school?”

Amy laced her fingers in her lap and stared down at them. “I did, part time. I’ve actually only got one more class to take.”

“But you work two jobs and can’t fit it in?” he guessed.

“Something like that.” She thought about the funk Bea’s death had thrown her into. “I’m not supposed to be at the restaurant, but I’m trying to keep a promise I made.” Then realizing she sounded glum, she added with as much cheer as she could muster, “Then again, the extra money I’m making is helping me to keep another promise I made to my mom, so it will all work out in the end.”

Brady pulled the car into the parking lot of the building where he worked. “Ready to go find out what that letter of yours is really about?”

She hesitated, unsure if she was. “We could do this Monday. I think you’ve wasted enough on your Saturday on me. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

His response was to push the button that unlatched her seatbelt. “I’m a big boy, Ms. Winn. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to spend my time all by myself.”

“I didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful.”

He climbed out of the car, walked around to her side, and waited for her to emerge. “Scared?” he asked as they walked toward the entrance.

“Apprehensive.”

“I’ll help you with whatever it ends up being.”  He opened the door for her.

Since it was a Saturday, there was no receptionist waiting in the foyer. The silence that greeted them was slightly eerie.

“Is the elevator okay?” Brady asked. “Or would you prefer to take the stairs?”

“The elevator’s fine.”

They rode in silence up to the offices of Michelman, Willen and Willen.

“Someone else is here,” Brady observed when he found the door to the office suite was unlocked.

“I made coffee,” the bow-tie wearing associate announced, rounding the corner, his nose in an oversized legal file.

Brady arched an eyebrow. “You knew we were coming?”

“I’m not that good,” Gerald replied easily. “Just saying it’s there if you want it.” He looked up from his reading material. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Winn. We weren’t introduced yesterday. I’m Gerald White.” He extended his hand and a smile.

She shook it. “Nice to meet you, Gerald.”

“Did you need something from me, boss?” he asked Brady.

“Is the file room unlocked?”

“It is.”

“Then I don’t need anything. What are you working on?”

A slight frown pinched Gerald’s forehead. “I’m not supposed to say.”

Brady sighed. “Another of Eric’s secret projects?”

Gerald nodded.

“Okay, I won’t put you in a tough spot. I’ll just ask him about it on Monday.”

“Appreciate that.” Nodding to them both, Gerald strolled away.

“Milton Willen was a good man,” Brady muttered. “But I can’t say the same about his son. C’mon. The file room is this way.”

He led the way through a series of hallways that finally led to the biggest file room Amy had ever seen. She gasped at the size of it.

“We lawyers love our paperwork,” Brady remarked drily.

“Do you think we’ll be able to find…?”

“Of course. Phyllis explained the code. We’ll just follow the bread crumbs and end up in Oz.”

“The bread crumbs were for Hansel and Gretel, who weren’t going to Oz,” she pointed out. “
And
they didn’t end up leading them home.”

“Ye of little faith. Ellis vs. Snyder,” Brady declared. “Since it’s from ninety-four, it’ll be in the archived section.” Pushing off the table, he headed toward the back of the file room.

Amy followed closely behind, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation over what her mysterious inheritance could be that she forgot to breathe.

She stumbled over an electrical cord and would have tripped, but Brady turned quickly enough to catch her elbow and hold her upright.

“You okay?” He searched her face, concern shining in his eyes.

“Just a klutz,” she assured him. “I was distracted and wasn’t watching where I was going.” Suddenly aware he was still holding her arm, she offered a weak smile. “I promise I’m not going to fall.”

His gaze narrowed and he focused on her intently. “I think I may have already.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

Without releasing her, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I think I may have already fallen for you, Amy Winn.”

She shivered, but didn’t know if it was a reaction to his breath tickling her ear or his words.

“I think you’re wrong about us not fitting together,” he murmured before pressing his lips to the spot just beneath her ear.

She gasped and her knees buckled at the sensation. Instinctively, she grabbed his shoulder to keep from collapsing like a ragdoll, but she didn’t push him away as his lips slowly traced along her jawbone setting off mini-explosions of pleasure. She couldn’t push him away. She didn’t want to.