Dangerous Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries Book 4) (4 page)

"Has she? I didn't notice." Caleigh stuck her pink tongue out of her mouth and used it to find the red stirring straw in her glass. Every time she pushed toward it, the straw rotated in the glass. She finally latched on to it and pulled it in to sip her drink.

"Yep, ever since this morning when I first got to the office. And especially so while we were talking to the detective and Aiden."

"Hmm, Aiden," Caleigh said with an all-too pleased smile on her face. "He looked extra yummy today, no?"

The left side of my mouth twitched. "Yes, he did. Did he seem different to you?"

She thought about it for a second and then shook her head. "Nope. But other than noticing his yumminess, I didn't pay him much attention."

Exactly how it should be.

"I was too busy noticing our glum friend here," she added.

Sam looked up and met our gazes with a deadpan expression. "You know I can hear you, right?"

I grinned. "We hoped so," I said. "And you know you can tell us anything, right? We're more than just coworkers. Associates. We're your best friends. Comrades. Sisters."

Caleigh nodded furiously.

I had to lay a hand on her shoulder to get her to slow down. She sipped her drink and eventually stopped.

Sam looked away, toward the dance floor. I expected her to clam up and change the subject. But instead, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I totally think of you guys and Maya as my sisters too."

"Yay!" Caleigh said, causing a man on the other side of Sam to turn and glance at us.

"Okay, fine," Sam said. "I really hate doing this, but this seems as good a time as any." The skin between her brows puckered and lined.

I held a swig of drink in my mouth, anticipating whatever she was about to say.

"I was wondering if I could get an advance on my paycheck this week." She said it so low I almost didn't hear it over the music.

I swallowed hard. That was it? She'd been worried all day because she didn't want to ask? "Yes, of course. Is everything okay though? This isn't for something like an emergency or anything, right? You and Julio are fine?"

She smiled, and I realized it was the first one I'd seen from her all day. "Yes, we're good. Julio Senior, however, hasn't paid child support this month."

I had no idea about their arrangement, but I assumed that money was essential for a single mother. It was essential for this single gal with a shoe fetish too, but I knew feeding a child never compared to the latest Jimmy Choo.

"Do you want me to find him and shatter his kneecaps?" Caleigh asked.

I held back a chuckle. Caleigh was all mint julep and bubblegum-colored lip gloss until you got between her and her money. She was far from a gold digger or materialistic. She came from a family of laborers and hard workers. So when someone tried to interfere with her livelihood, she became a grizzly. This applied to interfering with her friends' livelihoods too. Plus, Auntie Caleigh adored Julio as much as I did.

"No. He'll need both of his kneecaps to keep working and sending me child support," Sam reminded her with a half smile.

I waved over the bartender and pointed to our near-empty glasses for another round.

Sam knocked back the last of hers. "It's not like Julio to do this. He's never missed a payment, and I'm actually a little worried about him."

My PI radar switched on and began beeping and flashing in neon pink. Pink was so much prettier than red. "Why?"

"I've called him a few times, and the calls keep going to voice mail."

"Is that unusual?" Caleigh asked.

"Kinda. I mean, he has his own life. Whatever that is. But he always gets back to me right away. He's been trying to be a good father lately. He's been there for Julio every weekend without fail."

The bartender set three new drinks down.

I tossed a few bills onto the bar and traded my empty glass for a full one. Caleigh and Sam reached for their new ones too.

Sam took a long sip and then shrugged, as if everything was truly fine. "It's probably not a big deal. He's probably off chasing a new skirt. Hopefully he'll come through next month."

It didn't sound very reassuring to me, but Sam seemed lighter.

My cell rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Maya.

I slipped off my stool and walked closer to the front door to get farther from the speakers. "Maya?"

"Hey, Boss. I thought you'd want to know that I got Elaine's cell records. She's meeting up with a friend named Suze in twenty minutes, and it looks like she's planning for a hot night out."

Sam dropped Caleigh and I off at the agency, where I promptly hopped into my car and sped just slightly over the speed limit to the Van Nuys address Maya had texted me. When I got there, Maya was parked in the lot of a dive bar called The Happy Hour.

I pulled up behind Maya's Jetta and put my Roadster in park. After locking my car, I slid into her passenger seat. "You didn't need to follow her here, but I appreciate it. Thank you."

Maya shrugged. "I didn't have plans tonight. Brandon is working late."

Brandon Duke was Maya's ex-fiancé, who had resurfaced in her life when his most recent wife had suspected him of cheating on her. Maya had run the investigation, which hadn't gone at all the way the wife had planned. In the end, Maya had busted a crime ring, and Brandon had ended up asking her out. Again. I wasn't exactly sure what the current status of their relationship was, other than complicated, but the fact that she was referring to him as her usual evening plans was promising.

"Anyway, Elaine went inside with a couple of girlfriends. I thought about going in, but I wasn't sure what to do," Maya said.

While Maya had played undercover while on Brandon's case, she wasn't technically licensed as an investigator. And even though that one time had been a success, she had been a nervous wreck. Unlike the rest of us, Maya was perfectly content to limit her investigations to those she could do at her desk.

"You've done great. Thanks." I paused, almost hesitating to ask… "Did you see any other red flags in her cell history?"

Maya shrugged. "Hard to tell. But the only name that jumped out as obviously male was an Ira Steingarden."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "And he is…"

"Gynecologist in Chatsworth. She's got an appointment Monday."

TMI territory was an occupational hazard. "Thanks. Why don't you head home. It's been a long day." After we said our good-byes, I slipped out of the car and walked inside the bar.

Dim, ridiculously loud, and smoky, this was far from the place Caleigh, Sam, and I had just left. The dark, dusty floors and woodwork and the deep-teal-colored walls didn't help the lighting situation. Luckily, the bar was only a couple of yards long, and there were only a handful of tables, so it didn't take long to scan the area. Plus, it wasn't that crowded, which was surprising for the end of the week.

I didn't see Elaine, and I wondered if Maya had got the location wrong. No, Maya was too efficient to make that kind of mistake. Then I heard that over-the-top smoker's laugh of Elaine's and turned to spot her by the pool table. She was talking to two women in their forties. I assumed they were the friends Maya'd mentioned.

Both were as tiny as Elaine, but neither of them sported the double Ds she did. The blonde friend wore mom jeans with brown cowboy boots and a white-and-brown cow-print blouse. She was only missing the hat to complete her
yee-haw
ensemble, which had her fitting in with the decor of the place perfectly. The other friend had long, shiny black hair and wore a powder-blue jumpsuit, a bright-pink fake feather boa, and white pumps.

I stared longer than what would be considered polite. I just couldn't understand the outfit. Elaine, however, looked the most out of place in a long-sleeved, silver-sequined minidress with matching strappy heels. She had teased her light-brown hair so full that I wondered if she'd thought they'd be spending tonight traveling back to the days of fanny packs and Aqua Net.

Despite their adventurous fashion sense, they didn't seem to attract much attention. Cowgirl aimed her cue stick and knocked the ball into another, shooting that one into a corner pocket. The three of them raised their arms and cheered.

Jumpsuit turned to a passing server and ordered a round of drinks. I couldn't hear their exact words over the song about big trucks and hot girls streaming through the speakers. But when the server—a petite blonde woman in a brown skirt and apron and teal blouse—nodded and walked toward the bar, I assumed Jumpsuit was ordering beverages.

I found a seat at the end of the bar in a dark corner. It was far enough from them that Elaine wouldn't be able to spot me, but I could still make out their actions. The bartender was a slender guy with long bangs that had been dyed neon blue. Despite wearing brown pants and a teal T-shirt, his personal style suggested he wasn't a big truck owner. I ordered a coffee, having had enough vodka for one night.

An older man around Derek's age with a similar build moseyed up to the pool table and started talking to the women. He had the same salt-and-pepper hair, and if it wasn't for the way he bowed during their introductions, I would've thought it was my father.

Elaine and Jumpsuit laughed at something the man said, and then Jumpsuit went to take her turn with the cue stick, leaving Elaine and the man to talk by themselves. And boy did they talk.

I dumped more sugar into the bitter coffee and sipped while watching Elaine's and the man's mouths move at Road Runner speed. Elaine liked using her hands when she talked, and there were moments when it looked like she was signing for the hearing impaired. I hadn't a clue what two strangers could get on so well about…unless they were flirting. That thought filled me with dread on Derek's behalf. But honestly, from my vantage point, they seemed to be only talking and laughing. Neither of them was in each other's personal space. Elaine's body faced her friends straight ahead, and she turned only her head toward the man, so they weren't leaning into one another. Maybe there was hope.

As the evening wore on, the man joined their game, I suffered through another cup of coffee, and Elaine and her friends started singing a country song. This one was about a cheating man and a woman only too eager to get her revenge.

Another man walked over to their group, which had gotten rather loud with their chatter and laughter. This guy was older, shorter, and rounder than the first. He approached Cowgirl, who was all smiles and coy looks. They chummied up quickly, and he didn't give Elaine and Jumpsuit much attention. This seemed to bother Jumpsuit, who slid her way between them to whisper into Cowgirl's ear.

Round Man frowned and looked annoyed. He wrapped his meaty fingers around Jumpsuit's upper arm. I assumed he was going to pull her away, but before he got the chance, Jumpsuit turned her head, glanced at his probably unwelcome hand on her bicep, and glared at him. Her lips moved, but unfortunately I couldn't hear the manhandling beatdown I hoped she gave him. Some guys didn't understand that touching a woman without their permission wasn't endearing or charming. It was simply too much.

Round Man let go of Jumpsuit and took a step back. I smiled and wanted to cheer at her standing up for herself. Before I got a chance to see how they reacted next, a tall, lanky guy in jeans and a plaid shirt sat at the corner of the bar in front of me. He completely ruined my view.

Seriously?

I softly scoffed, wondered why he couldn't choose one of the other four empty bar stools, and looked up to the man's face. I expected to see a scruffy dude with a down-and-out expression to his weather-beaten face. I sounded like a country song. But instead he was tanned, clean shaven, and had a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Too bad Caleigh wasn't here. His red-and-white plaid shirt didn't make him "bad boy" material, but he was definitely adorable.

He ordered a Guinness on tap, then turned and looked behind him to the rest of the room.

Dude, not even a glance my way?

I wasn't conceited, but come on. Hadn't I been told all day how sexy my dress was?

He turned back around when the bartender placed his beer down. He set money on the smooth wood bar top, took a sip, and then looked behind him again. I couldn't tell who he was looking at, but when he faced his beer again, he made a
tsk
sound. Something wasn't kosher.

"You okay?" I asked.

Finally he looked my way, but his gaze immediately shifted to his beer. It didn't travel up and down my body the way most did. My ego decided he was either severely depressed or gay.

A slight smile tugged one corner of his mouth. "Do I not look okay?"

"You look upset."

He didn't answer but jutted his chin out at my coffee. "Not exactly bar beverage."

"Drinking and driving do not mix."

He nodded, then brought his glass to his mouth. "They sure don't. I'll be calling a cab."

"Good for you." I pushed my stool back so I could get a better viewpoint of Elaine. There was only so much space before I hit the wall though.

"Do I smell?" Plaid Guy asked with a soft chuckle.

I grinned and straightened my legs. The tips of my shoes touched the side of the bar. "No, just stretching." It was pretty lame, but I didn't want to admit I was stalking my father's girlfriend.

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "My boyfriend and I got into an argument, and I followed him here."

Bingo. I knew my gaydar.

"Oh yeah? Which one is he?"

"He's talking to the woman in the silver dress."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Derek had nothing to worry about tonight.

Ten minutes later, Plaid Guy left with a disgruntled sigh. He never went up to his boyfriend or even tried to catch his attention, which was perfect for me. Elaine would've spotted me for sure. Ten minutes after that, Elaine kissed the cheeks of her friends, waved good-bye to the boyfriend, and headed my way.

Oh shoot!

I turned to my left, faced the deep-teal wall, and prayed she didn't look my way.

Once I heard the door click shut, I threw a couple of fives onto the bar and ran out. When I reached the sidewalk, I spotted the back of Elaine. She was walking to her Honda Civic, parked a few storefronts ahead. I ran across the street to my own car and waited for her to pull onto the street, before making a U-turn and following her.

My cherry-red Roadster was too familiar to go unnoticed, so I had to stay several vehicles behind her. I almost lost her a couple of times, but once she hit the 101, I knew she was headed home. But just to be sure, I followed her three more exits before she turned off into her neighborhood in North Hollywood.

As she pulled onto her street, I headed to my apartment. The coffee had done nothing to perk me up. My bones felt tired, and I simply wanted to kick off my shoes and crawl into bed. Was it possible to become immune to caffeine? Maybe I needed to up my dosage. I could switch to espressos.

When I reached the front steps of my building, a woman rushed toward me. I tensed, not a huge fan of a person flying at me at night on the street. I reached into my bag for my gun, just in case, and wrapped my fingers around its handle. But I didn't pull it out just yet, as I didn't want to scare an innocent woman simply out for a nighttime jog.

But this person wasn't in yoga pants and sneakers. She wore a black miniskirt, leopard-print blouse, and four-inch platform heels. Clearly this was no jogger. That was when I realized it was Bristol Claremont. She sure loved her animal prints.

I released my hold on my pistol and withdrew my hand from my bag. "Bristol, are you okay?" The real question was what was she doing here? How the heck had she found out where I lived?

"No, I'm not!" she cried, flapping her arms up and down. "The police questioned me all evening. They think I had something to do with Roger's death!"

I had to admit that the thought had crossed my mind as well. "What did they say?" I asked.

"They kept asking where I was at the time he…" She trailed off, her face scrunching up into a tearless sob. "This can't be happening. I loved my husband. I didn't want him dead." Her voice was even higher pitched than when we'd first met, if that was possible. I thought I heard a dog bark next door in response.

"I'm so sorry, Bristol. But it's customary for the police to talk to the victim's loved ones. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Unless, of course, she'd actually killed him.

She shook her head violently, causing several tendrils of hair to fall loose from her low bun. "No, you don't understand. They truly think I did it. They want me to surrender myself tomorrow with my lawyer. And I need your help. You have to help me prove who really killed Roger. Please, Miss Bond."

I would've loved to think that a spouse wouldn't hire a PI if she'd been guilty, but I knew the world was full of dishonest people. And that wasn't me being negative. Simply a fact. I'd been in this business too long to know otherwise. Plus, I was raised in the backseat of Derek Bond's Bonneville. I'd seen infidelity, lies, and betrayal up close and personal.

Tears gathered in the corners of Bristol's eyes. "Roger was my world. Now I have to figure out how to move on without him. I can't have this hanging over my head too."

I had assumed she was just a simple trophy wife, nothing more. But now I began to wonder if my judgment had been wrong. In order to take on her tweaked case, though, we'd need to check into several things—like her alibi at the time of Roger's death.

"I'll need to know a few things first," I said. While Maya would carefully check the facts, I needed to get Bristol's side of the story.

She widened her eyes. "Yes, anything."

"Where were you this afternoon when Roger was shot?"

She sniffled and glanced away. Then she laid a hand at the side of her head. "I was at Lucerne's, a new hair salon on Rodeo Drive."