Sleuthing for a Living (Mackenzie & Mackenzie PI Mysteries Book 1) (16 page)

"I'll help you up, if you tell me." Mac waggled her fingers in my face.

"You'll help me up because I gave you life." Was I actually sweating? Maybe I had better scale back on the snack cakes for real. I flailed for her hand, and she gripped it but didn't pull.

"Mom, just tell me. What's the big secret?"

I tried pulling myself up without her help, but my screaming back muscles weren't having it. "This is not how I wanted to do this," I grumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Okay, I promise I'll tell you, just help me up before anything else goes hinky."

"Swear on something you love."

"Your life?" I panted.

"Helga. And your coffeepot."

Damn it, she was playing hardball. "Fine, I swear on both Helga and Mr. Coffee that I will tell you after you help me get up."

"Right after," Mac insisted. "No putting it off until I'm twenty-five."

"If this whole tech genius gig doesn't pan out, maybe you should go to law school." I was a little in awe of her closing a loophole I hadn't even considered. Of course I was stiff and under caffeinated and having the back spasm from hell, but still.

"Promise me, right after."

"I promise within five minutes."

She glared down at me.

"I have to pee. Can I at least pee first, maybe get a pain reliever?"

"Immediately after."

I gave a weary exhale. "Agreed."

Mac helped me up, and I stood as erect as possible, stretching my aching back.

She waited, arms folded across her chest, one toe tapping. There was no way out of it.

I looked at the ground, at her Converse sneakers with the little mutant head she'd drawn on the toe portion in pink neon. Up and down it went, up and down. "I didn't."

The head froze. "You didn't what?"

I looked her in the eye and finished. "Tell him. I never told Brett I was pregnant."

I gave her a moment to digest that—my bladder was screaming— and shuffled down the hall to use the facilities. Snickers leapt off the bed and followed me.

After flushing and washing, I snagged the bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol and headed back into the living room. Mac was in pretty much the same position she'd been in when I departed.

There was still some daiquiri in the glass my mother had poured for me earlier. After popping two pain relievers in my mouth I knocked the drink back, almost choking because the mixed cocktail had begun to unmix. Ick.

"Did he rape you?"

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Did Brett, I mean did my dad—"

"No Mac, of course he didn't."

"Then why didn't you tell him?" There was pleading in her tone—pleading for understanding the why behind my choice.

I shrugged helplessly, knowing the truth would hurt her but unable to lie about something so important. "It's complicated. And he wasn't…well he wasn't ready. Neither of us was, but my life had to change, his didn't. And it would have the second I told him." I left out the part about why I'd felt so sure he wasn't ready and the real reason I hadn't told Brett, the fact that I'd walked in on him with another girl when I'd been on the verge of telling him.

She stared at me for a full minute and then moved down the hall.

"Mac," I called, hating that I'd hurt her, unsure of where I'd gone wrong or what I could have said or done to spare her pain.

Her door slammed. After a moment there was a whining sound, followed by scratching. The puggle was at Mac's door begging for entry.

I shuffled forward, tried the handle, and wasn't surprised to find it locked this time. "Come on girl, you can stay with me tonight."

The dog gave one more powerful sniff as though she could suck Mac out through the crack beneath it before trotting after me into my bedroom. I left the door open in case Mac emerged and was prepared to fall face first onto my bed when I looked at the wagging tail dusting the floor by the door. "You have to go, don't you?"

Snickers waited.

I sighed and then moved over to open the French door so she could relieve herself.

The night breeze was cold, and I stepped out onto the patio. The yard was large by city standards, almost a quarter of an acre. Ivy had taken over the broken crumbling fountain, which made for eerie shapes at night. The fencing was small pickets, only enough to keep a medium sized dog contained. Maybe I should get some chairs out here. Mac might like that.

If she ever spoke to me again.

There were no lights and no streetlights, just the soft glow from a harvest moon. I stared up at it for a minute before picking up on a small shuffling to my left. Thinking it was Snickers, I headed in that direction, only to find Hunter Black sitting on a bench on his patio, his gaze also trained up at the night sky.

There was something odd about his posture. It wasn't relaxed like a man kicking back after a hard day of work. No, it was more intensely brooding, as if he'd come out here to be alone.

I was about to creep off back to my own area of the back yard when he looked up.

"Sorry," I said. "Just letting the dog out. Is everything all right?"

"No." Hunter shook his head.

Though he hadn't invited me I sat next to him on the bench. "Want to talk about it?"

"I don't, but I don't have much of a choice. You know that woman you interviewed yesterday, the one you told me Paul Granger assaulted in the parking garage?"

"Kimmy. What about her?"

Hunter put a hand over mine. "She was murdered."

Garbology 101, aka Dumpster diving for pros—sifting through trash in an attempt to find information. Aka the holy grail of private investigation.

From the
Working Man's Guide to Sleuthing for a Living
by Albert Taylor, PI

"Morning," I said to Mac's closed bedroom door as I stumbled past heading for the source of vitality that made all things possible, aka my coffeepot.

Snickers paused hopefully by Mac's bedroom door and gave a pitiful whimper.

"Your dog misses you," I called over my shoulder. "Punish me all you want, but leaving her with me is basically animal cruelty."

No response. Not that I'd expected one after the great reveal of the night before, but goading her was better than thinking about what Hunter had told me.

Poor Kimmy.

I spaced out as I watched hot brown liquid drizzle slowly into the pot. It had taken me a full minute of staring at Hunter Black's rugged profile to translate his words. "I just talked to her yesterday."

"I know. Ruth told me when I questioned her."

"How?" I'd croaked.

"Same as Paul Granger, execution style with a small caliber bullet. It was at her home, made to look like a B&E gone bad, but even though the place was trashed, there was nothing missing."

"And you don't think it's a coincidence." I'd started to shiver.

Hunter slowly shook his head. "I don't."

Snickers came bounding over to him, and he'd scooped her up into his lap. She gave his hand a few enthusiastic licks, turned three times, and plopped down. Big men weren't supposed to appreciate little dogs, but he'd looked so at ease with the little beastie.

"I dropped by to tell you earlier," Hunter murmured.

"I was out." I kept it short and simple and hoped like hell he wouldn't ask me where.

He didn't sigh, didn't make a peep.

"It can't be Dr. Granger." I said. "Maybe Paul, but she had no motive to kill Kimmy."

"I'm not a judge, Mackenzie. I follow the evidence."

"So do I," Or at least, I'd been trying to. "Kimmy told me Paul came on to her in the parking lot one night after work. She dosed him with pepper spray. So she wasn't having an affair with him, and Dr. Granger would have no reason to kill her."

He'd run a hand over his jaw. "Unless she lied to you."

"Why would she?"

"Maybe she was embarrassed or didn't want it getting out that she'd been having an affair with him. Did you ask her in front of anyone else?"

I'd thought about it. "Ruth was there the whole time. She's the one who called Kimmy over."

"People lie for all sorts of reasons. It could be that she was afraid she'd be linked with his death."

I'd shaken my head. "You didn't see her. She was disgusted by him."

"I'm not going to argue with you. You're better off tracking down your mysterious Escalade driver."

"I already found him." The words had come out before I'd thought them through.

"What?" Hunter had sat up abruptly, disturbing the dog, who'd hopped down.

My teeth had sunk into my lower lip. Damn it, I hadn't meant to say that. "Yeah, he's another PI who was also following Paul Granger. He was hired by Paul's employer because Right Touch Pharmaceuticals thought Paul was faking his disability claim."

"I need to talk to him. Do you have his information?"

"About that…"

Even in the low light I'd felt his intense gaze on my burning cheeks. "What aren't you telling me, Red?"

So,
so
much. "Well I sort of know him. The PI. Not recently, but from a long time ago. He's, well it's kind of funny actually."

Hunter had waited.

I'd blown out a sigh. "He's Mac's father. Only he doesn't know he's Mac's father, so if you'd just not mention her to him."

"Is he dangerous?" Hunter asked. "Are you afraid he might hurt you or your daughter?"

"What? No, nothing like that. I just never told him."

No one could do quiet like Hunter.

"You think I'm horrible, don't you." I didn't phrase it as a question. "My daughter's not speaking to me because when I saw him earlier, I knew I had to tell her, to tell them both, and now she thinks I didn't want her because I told her I wasn't ready for a kid. She doesn't understand that she has been and will always be the very best thing in my life."

He hadn't responded.

The wind had picked up, and I'd risen, wrapping my arms around myself, temper flaring. "Well don't just sit there and listen. Say something!"

"Aren't women supposed to like it when men listen?"

"When they
actively
listen. And engage in conversation. Otherwise it's me just ranting like a lunatic."

Slowly, carefully as though he'd been worried about spooking a wild animal, he'd gotten to his feet. "It's okay, Red. She doesn't hate you."

"Well she should. I sort of hate me. I mean, I'm still freaking fabulous but—" I'd run out of words and just shaken my head.

Warm palms had gripped my shoulders and he'd stood there like a great barrier against the world's dark underbelly. "You made a tough decision. I told you before I'm no judge."

I'd sniffled. "If you'd gotten your girlfriend pregnant at sixteen, wouldn't you have wanted to know about it?"

"My situation was different. Much different, from what you're describing. But yes, I think I'd want to know."

"So, I have to tell him. Now. Because I know my kid, and if I don't tell him, she'll show up on his doorstep and tell him herself. Better I prepare him and he takes out whatever gut reaction on me." I'd been trying to put up a brave front, but the truth was I'd been terrified of telling Brett.

"It's all wrong." I had shaken my head. "He was supposed to be this great academic, have this huge future with piles of money, a place on Nantucket where his family would be all mint juleps and tennis whites all summer. The kind of life my mother always wanted. How is it he's doing the exact same thing I'm doing?"

Hunter hadn't said anything, and this time his silence had felt lighter, reassuring. He hadn't had any answers, but he had been there with me, there for me all the same.

I'd stepped back. "I should go in."

"I won't mention you when I talk to him. It's not my place to spill your secrets."

"Thanks, much appreciated." I'd turned, but he caught my arm.

"Do I still scare you?" he'd whispered.

More than ever, but in a much different way. Mac had been right. I liked relationships I could control, ones I never had problems walking away from when the time came. Though I barely knew Hunter, something instinctively told me he wouldn't tolerate that, would never cede control to me. I'd licked suddenly dry lips and murmured, "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"Honestly." He pulled me closer, so close that the wood smoke and pine scent of him cocooned me. "That's the only way you should ever answer me. With honesty."

He wanted the naked truth? Fine. "Yes. But it's more about me than anything to do with you. You've been…"

"I've been what?"

Perfect.
I'd thought. Supportive, protective, everything a man ought to be. Sure we'd had our showdowns, but even arguing with him had gotten my blood pumping, reminded me that I was a woman, and I had needs. Needs that hadn't been met in a very long time.

It was as though central casting had yanked the image I had for a perfect mate directly out of my head and teleported him into reality. Telling Hunter that wasn't an option. Instead, I'd gone with a lame, but still honest response. "Great. You've been great."

"I'll show you great," he growled and lowered his lips to mine.

I'd been cold half a second before, I knew it, remembered it. His warmth had rolled over me like a liquid wave of heat as he kissed me senseless. He'd cupped my face tenderly, almost as though he were being extra careful not to leave a mark, even as his mouth had devoured my own.

I'd melted into him, all my strong-woman bravado washed away in the current of passion that roared to life. Oh this was bad. Anything that felt so amazing had to be bad.

My lips had parted, hungry for more. Damn my hedonistic hide. Willpower, had to get me some of that.

Hunter had ended the kiss first, though he didn't release my face. I'd sucked in much-needed oxygen and tried to think of something to say.

His thumb had traced my bottom lip. "Good-night, Red."

And then he'd disappeared inside his own apartment.

*   *   *

The sound of Mac's bedroom door creaking open pulled me from my reverie. I had so much to tackle, and most of it should have been done yesterday. Or sixteen years earlier. Either way I was behind schedule, and why was my coffeepot taking so long to yield the sweet nectar of life?

"Hey." Mac stood in the little gap between the counter and the kitchen.

"Hey yourself." I studied her. She didn't look any the worse for wear, but that was a sixteen-year-old for you. I'd lost track of how many times I'd scrambled up the old oak to my bedroom window after spending all night with Brett, changed my clothing, and gone down to breakfast with Nan without missing a beat.

I waited for Mac to say something, but she was looking at me as though holding back until I said something.

We waited, eyeing one another, the only sound the bubbling hiss from a coffeepot as old as Methuselah.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," I blurted at the same time as she said "I'm so sorry, Mom."

We rushed to each other like it had been choreographed, and I hugged her close. She tucked her head beneath my chin the same way she had when she'd been five and perched on my lap.

"What do you have to be sorry about, huh? I'm the screw up, not you," I murmured, stroking her auburn hair.

"But if not for me—"

"I wouldn't have a reason to get out of bed every morning. I'd probably still be living with Mom and The Captain. Well, if they were still together. The point is that I'd be totally lost without you."

Mac shook her head back and forth. I wasn't sure what she was trying to communicate— remorse maybe.

"You know what you need? Some coffee."

There was a small sniffle, but when she pulled back, her eyes were dry. "Sounds good."

"It's a date then. Go, get dressed."

"For coffee?" she asked.

"Yeah I'm pretty sure the pot is busted, and I have a giant to-do list, and going out sans caffeine is a public health issue."

"I thought we were broke," Mac protested.

My shoulder bag was on the counter, and I fished out the bills Len had spotted me. "Not totally broke. And come on, we're taking Fillmore on his first stakeout."

Mac had turned back down the hallway but paused. "How come we're not taking Helga?"

"I have it on good authority that she's too noticeable. Go get dressed, and meet me outside in ten. I need to run up and see Grams for a second."

Mac disappeared into her room, and I dug through the mountains of laundry until I found a black tank top and clean pair of jeans. I threw a white men's button-down shirt over the top and then tied it at the waist, before sitting down to do the socks and sneakers bit.

Mac was speaking to me again—that boded well. I wasn't about to take my sixteen-year-old daughter on an actual surveillance trip, but I thought maybe I could practice my tailing skills and give her a real in-person look at her father at the same time. After, I'd drop her off back home to set up for the dinner shindig while I got back to work.

But first I had to set the other half of my parent trap.

Fully dressed, I snagged my leather jacket and shoulder bag and sprinted up the stairs to knock on my mother's door. No answer. I dug around in my pockets until I retrieved the small notebook and pen and scribbled her a hasty invitation to dinner. Then, for good measure, I headed over to Nona's door.

"Mackenzie, how you doing, doll?"

"Fine, Nona. Sorry about the movie night getting cancelled."

Nona waved it off. "No trouble. My sciatica was flaring up anyhow."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm having a little dinner get-together tonight and wanted to invite you. If you're feeling up to it, of course."

"Oh, that sounds nice. What time and what can I bring?"

I was tempted to ask for the entire dinner, but refrained. "Whatever you want to bring will be great. Come down at seven thirty." Inspiration struck, and I added, "Maybe you can get together with my mom and plan what to bring."

"Will Hunter be there?"

I flashed hot and then cold again as I thought of our kiss. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen him yet today."

"Oh he's out with his sister. I saw her pick him up when I went out to get the paper. If he comes back, I'll ask him for you." She winked at me.