Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3 (6 page)

I didn't need to glance her way to know whether or not Caleigh was interested. He was her type—not too clean-cut yet not too unkempt either, somewhere between Daniel Radcliffe and Duck Dynasty.

But I looked anyway. Sure enough, she was batting her lashes and practically purring in her seat.

When the song ended, the bartender walked to the stage, pointed toward us, and whispered something to Melanie. Then he went back to prepping for tonight.

She stepped down and glided to our table. Even her walk was sultry and magnetic. "You wanted to talk to me?" she asked in a voice that could melt diamonds.

"Please have a seat," I said and pulled out a business card. "I'm Jamie Bond, and this is my associate Caleigh Presley."

Caleigh extended her arm. "Elvis Presley's distant cousin. Pleased to meet you." She said it loud. Louder than necessary for someone directly across from her. Unless, of course, she was hoping a hot guitarist overheard and was impressed.

He must've been, too, because he sat on the edge of the stage and watched her.

I refrained from eye rolling as Caleigh and Melanie shook hands.

Melanie glanced at my card. "Why does a private investigator want to speak with me?"

"We'd like to ask you some questions about a friend of yours. Stuart Livingston."

Her pale gray eyes opened wide. "Is something wrong? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. We're just, um…" I glanced at Caleigh for support, but she was too busy making goo-goo eyes with her new admirer.

"I know he's married," Melanie said and placed her left hand on the table. A large diamond ring and wedding band rested on her ring finger. "So am I."

That caught Caleigh's attention. We exchanged glances again.

"It's not as uncommon as most people think," Melanie said.

"I'm sorry. We don't mean to appear judgmental. I'm just not familiar with the lifestyle."

Melanie nodded. "Most aren't. People think we're sexual deviants or we're cheaters. That's not the case. In fact, being honest with our spouses is the key to a healthy relationship. Cheating is all about lies and betrayal. We don't want to experience the doubts, fear, and deception that come with that. We want fun and adventure, and it keeps our true relationship alive."

She made it sound so benign, yet interesting. Not that I'd ever agree to it. Maybe Derek should've tried it though.

"We were wondering if you and Stuart still saw one another." I asked.

She shook her head. "I haven't seen him in weeks."

Caleigh giggled. From the corner of my eye, I watched the guitarist blush. God only knew what Caleigh was doing beside me.

I kept my focus, as best as I could, on Melanie. "Any reason why you haven't seen him recently?"

"Every time I've called he's either busy or doesn't answer."

"Is that usual?" I asked.

"Not really. In the beginning, we couldn't get enough of each other."

As stunning as she was, I had no doubts.

"The last time you saw him, what was he like?"

She looked off, as if pulling up the memory. "Distant. He didn't pay attention to our conversation, kept looking off and wasn't involved."

"Do you know what was on his mind? Did he talk about anything troubling him?" I asked.

"He was worried about his job and his brother." She went on to explain what I'd already heard from his wife. "But I got the feeling that he was preoccupied by something else. He didn't say what though. It's a shame. I miss him. He was fantastic in bed."

I inhaled wrong and coughed. I wasn't expecting that.

Melanie glanced at her watch. "If you don't mind, I need to get going."

"Sure. Thanks for talking to us."

She smiled and walked backstage. Everyone, except the guitarist, watched her leave. He still had his attention on Caleigh.

Caleigh and I stood. I expected to walk out the front, but Caleigh went to the stage.

I should've known.

The guitar player reached out his hand.

Caleigh placed hers in his, and he brought her hand to his lips.

It looked kinda over-the-top and quirky to me, but Caleigh giggled, obviously swooned.

"I'm Curtis," he said.

She gave her usual introduction. The one that informed she was a distant cousin of Elvis. Again.

Curtis took a step closer. "Seriously? I'm super impressed."

"You should be," she said with a smirk.

They chatted and flirted for a couple more minutes before he asked the inevitable, "Can I have your number?"

She pulled a pen from her purse, but instead of handing him a business card, she grabbed a napkin from a table and wrote her digits on it. Smart move. Sometimes guys were turned off by female PIs.

As we headed outside to my car, I told her, "Now you don't need Danny. You can pretend Curtis is your fiancé."

Caleigh laughed. "Oh sure, that would go over like gangbusters. 'Hey, Curtis, let's skip the first date and just get engaged.' No thanks, I think I'll stick with marrying Danny."

I laughed along with her as we got into the car and pulled into traffic, but that unsettled sensation returned to my stomach again at the words "marrying" and "Danny" in the same breath.

And it must have registered on my face.

"You sure you're okay with me using your guy like this?" she asked.

"He's not
my
guy," I protested. Possibly a little too harshly.

Caleigh shrugged. "No, I didn't mean it like that. But, well, Danny is yours. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you two stay friends or not. You're, like, a couple that doesn't sleep together or something."

I snorted, but part of me almost agreed with her assessment.

"Look, if this bothers you at all, I won't do it. Just say so."

Staring into her big, blue eyes, I was reminded of the woman who'd had my back many times over the years. I was touched she'd put our friendship before her lies with her father.

"I have no issues with you and Danny portraying the happy couple. Why would I? Danny and I are just friends." The words left a bad aftertaste in my mouth.

She smirked and nodded. "Uh-huh. Just as I thought." Though, luckily she dropped it until we reached the office. 

My first stop as we entered the agency was Maya's desk. "Have you been able to find anything on the names I gave you?"

She set down her can of Diet Coke and nodded. "Oh, yeah. Miranda Valens is squeaky clean. She graduated Summa Cum Laude from Harvard with a degree in political science and then went on to law school. She's never been married, no kids, and has worked at the DA's office for six years."

Maya gave me a pointed look. "They snapped her up right after graduating third in her class."

With those kinds of achievements, she could've worked at a number of high profile law firms, yet she chose to work for the state, which was famous for lousy hours and even lousier pay. Was she just a Good Samaritan who believed in justice, like Aiden? If so, they were perfect for each other.

Maya tapped her notepad. "She's rich too."

I rolled my eyes. Of course she was. "Is her family wealthy?"

"Nope. Her dad works at a dry cleaner's in Long Beach, and her mother is a maid at a Best Western in Anaheim. No, Miranda's money is her own."

My radar flared. I almost gleefully rubbed my hands together and cackled at the prospect of taking her down. "How rich is she?"

Maya trailed her finger down the page. "We aren't talking Donald Trump, but she just bought a new house in Pasadena and sends money to her mother each week."

My elation crumbled. That wasn't overly suspicious. Maybe she'd been saving up for the past six years. Maybe she got a rock-bottom interest rate, or one of those low down payment loans. "Any connection between her and Rocky? What's his real name?"

Maya shook her head. "Rocco Diaz, and no, his name didn't come up."

Damn. I seriously wanted to connect dots between those two.

"By the way, a woman named Elaine called for you." Maya handed me a pink slip of paper with Elaine's name and number on it. I shoved it into my purse, hoping I could put off Derek's lie as long as possible. That was one conversation I was not looking forward to.

"Okay, well let's run down the deets for Rocco Diaz."

Maya flew into action, pulling up windows and typing along. "He has a girlfriend, Vanessa Estevez, and a couple of kids. They rent an apartment in Inglewood, a couple of blocks east of La Brea."

Not exactly the nicest area. I didn't expect him to spill his guts to a couple of strangers, or to anyone for that matter. But maybe I could get some info from the girlfriend.

Maya jotted down the address and handed it to me.

I was about to turn to see if Sam or Caleigh were free, when the front door opened.

A tall man wearing a white suit and a white Stetson sauntered toward me. He removed his hat upon seeing us and smiled widely. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for Miss Caleigh Presley. Might I find her here?"

His accent was thick and southern. His light blue eyes twinkled and, coupled with a thin nose that turned up ever so slightly at the end and a narrow chin, he was the spittin' image of his daughter. Or the other way around.

Then it hit me. He was a week early. Oh crap.

I nodded to Maya, who scrambled off, and extended my hand. "Mr. Presley? I'm Jamie Bond. Caleigh works for me."

He cocked a brow and gave me the body check, but not in a threatening way. "Well, you aren't a man."

I chuckled loudly, but not in a happy way. "No, sir, I'm not."

He rubbed his chin. "Oh gosh, I didn't mean to sound insulting, but when my baby girl said she worked for a private investigator, I assumed she meant a man."

Obviously Caleigh didn't share much of her life with dear ol' Dad.

"Daddy?" Caleigh sounded as struck with fear as she looked—eyes bulged, mouth drooped.

Mr. Presley held his arms wide open. "Come to Daddy, darlin'."

Caleigh ran into her father’s arms and laid her cheek on his shoulder. For a moment, she looked happy and at peace. Then it quickly changed, and the panic returned to her face with lines crinkling between her brows.

Maya and Sam joined my side. Sam and I exchanged looks but didn't say a word. What was the likelihood Daddy forgot his darlin' was fake-engaged?

"You're early," Caleigh said.

"I wanted to surprise you."

She turned to us with a forced smile.

"Surprise," Maya, Sam, and I said in unison.

Her frown deepened. I didn't think she found us amusing.

"I would've met you at your apartment, but I wasn't sure what time you'd be off work," he added.

"Notforawhile." Her words tumbled out so fast, they slurred into one.

"I hope this isn't a bad time." He looked around the empty reception area.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "No, Daddy. I just wasn't prepared yet. I planned to have my place ready and to take off a couple of days from work to show you around. But I can't do that on such short notice."

She glared at me for help.

Sam nudged me with her elbow.

I found my voice. "Yes, I'm sorry. We're swamped with clients, and Caleigh has a huge case-load. I couldn't possibly do without her just now."

Mr. Presley scratched his head. "Well, that's alright, princess. I'm a grown man. I don't need to be entertained. I will see you when you're done working. Although I'd love to see your office and hear more about your work while I'm here."

Caleigh smiled. "Of course, Daddy. I'd love to show you." She held out a hand. "My office is this way."

They took a few steps, and he stopped. "I know this is short notice, but I do hope you three beautiful young ladies will allow an old man to take you to dinner tonight?"

Caleigh laid a hand on his arm and giggled. "You're not old, Daddy."

That so wasn't the point.

Before I could open my mouth to protest, Maya said, "I'm free tonight."

Mr. Presley looked to me, but Sam replied, "I can find a babysitter."

Great. Now I had no choice.

It wasn't that I didn't want to get to know Caleigh's father. I just wasn't ready for the lying and pretending portion of the evening. Of course, the plus side was another free meal, and I had a feeling Daddy would pick someplace more elegant than a roadside taco joint.

"This is very generous of you," I said. "I'd be happy to join you." My first lie of the night, and I had a strong feeling it wouldn't be the last.

"Good." He turned back to his daughter. "When we're done here, you can give me your key, and I'll settle in at your place. Then at dinner you can introduce me to my future son-in-law."

Oh, boy.

CHAPTER FIVE

It didn't take Caleigh long to show her dad around and dazzle him with a couple of old cases we'd worked. I noticed how she didn't mention any that were too scandalous, like the actress posing as a wife, the nudist husband, the panty thief, our current swingers, or even the gay couple. She asked for an hour off to drive her father to her place, to help settle him in, and to make sure she hadn't left anything embarrassing out in the open—like her vibrator. I was a very accommodating boss.

On their way out Mr. Presley waved and shouted, "Don't forget tonight."

Like I could if I wanted to.

As they walked out, I took Sam aside and explained what was happening over at the DA offices.

"How can I help?" she asked.

I grabbed my purse from my bottom desk drawer. "Go with me to check out this Vanessa Estevez and find out what we can about Rocco."

"Sure thing."

We pulled up in front of Vanessa and Rocco's home, a two-story former motel turned apartment building that clearly needed to be condemned. Boarded up front windows in half the units, loose shingles, and a broken concrete walkway. A line of beat-up, rusted cars bookended a late model SUV at the curb. And on a pathetic strip of dried grass than ran between the buildings sat a popped beach ball and an overturn tricycle.

At the corner, a small circle of guys hung out, they're eyes shifty enough that even to the casual observer they were obviously up to something. Two cars had slowed down in the past ten minutes we'd been parked here. One of the guys would step to the passenger window, lean in, and he and the driver would make exchanges. It was all done so openly. They obviously weren't afraid of the cops, or more likely, the police didn't drive by this part of town too frequently. The beat cops weren't stupid.