Sleuthing for the Weekend Page 12

  "But they were already divorced." I draped the soggy towel over the back of a barstool and then perched against the counter. "She was found in Daniel's locked office."

  "Divorce doesn't always coincide with separation of feelings. Even if Michael habitually cheated on his wife and agreed to the divorce, it doesn't mean he'd be all smiles and well wishes at the idea that his brother was shtupping his ex."

  "Shtupping, Len?" I couldn't stop a grin. "You sound like Nona."

  "She came by earlier. She claimed it was because she missed me, but really she just wanted to pump me for any information about the O'Flannigan treasure." Len's tone indicated that he didn't care why Nona had dropped in—he'd been happy to see her.

  The two were quite a pair, the Southern gentleman and the Yenta from Queens. They'd met at a gathering I'd held in the fall and been on a few dates since. It was clear that Len was smitten with her. I wondered if Nona was the one keeping my boss at arm's length or if he was just a slow mover.

  I blew out a sigh. "I hope you didn't encourage her. Both she and Agnes were prowling the streets till all hours last night. I'm worried they'll get hurt."

  "I would never take advantage of a lady that way." Len's tone was just a little too heavy on the affront to be genuine. "In fact, I volunteered to escort her out on her search tonight, since Agnes is feeling under the weather."

  I winced. "I'll check in on her." My phone beeped, the call coming in from an unfamiliar number. "Len, I'll get back with you later."

  "Get conformation from the wife. And Mackenzie? Be careful."

  "Will do." I clicked over to the new line. "Hello?"

  "Red…" Hunter's deep rumble made all the small hairs stand up on my arm. "Been trying to reach you."

  "Where are you? I don't recognize the number." My gaze swung to the door. I didn't feel ready to have the conversation with him that I knew we needed to have.

  "No. I'm on a job. This is a burner phone. I won't be back for a couple of days. I just wanted to let you know that I probably won't make this weekend."

  "A couple of days," I repeated dully. Because he'd be tied up with a blonde? Maybe literally. I flinched at the mental picture.

  "I'll miss you." He sounded so sincere.

  I gripped the phone tighter. "Will you?" I wanted to believe him, even though I'd seen the naked woman with my own eyes. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. He hadn't been there.

  "Yes." The word had the ring of truth, and I knew a moment's hope.

  "Is…uh…is there anyone maybe staying in your apartment?" Maybe I was grasping at threads, but there might be a reasonable explanation for the naked blonde.

  "No. Why do you ask?"

  My heart sank. So much for the optimism that he wouldn't lie to me. "Thought I heard someone moving around in there earlier, but it must have been upstairs."

  "Is anything wrong, Red?" His tone grew sharp.

  What could I say to that? Everything was wrong. "Well, since you brought it up…"

  A key rattled in the lock, and Mac pushed in through the door, dropping her backpack. She waved when she saw me, and I chickened out.

  "Uh, Hunter, I need to go. Mac's home. Talk to you later, okay? Be safe. Bye." I hung up before he could say anything else.

  Mac scowled at me. "What's up, Mom? You look more strung-out than usual."

  I dropped the phone on the counter and strode over to her until I could wrap my arms around her.

  "Whoa," she said, clearly taken by surprise. "Mom?"

  "I just…need a hug."

  Tentatively her arms went around me, and she patted my back. "What's up?"

  "Other than my blood pressure?" I squeezed her once more then reluctantly let go. "I think I have a lead on Lois O'Flannigan's killer."

  She took a step back and grinned up at me. "That's great. I've got a lead too."

  "You do?"

  "Remember you asked me to check my boss's laptop for any information that the cops came across from the garbage?" She reached into the zippered pocket of her backpack and fished for something.

  "No, I specifically recall asking you not to jeopardize yourself by messing around with police files." Even still, my heart sped up. Had my devious daughter actually found something?

  "So, you don't want to see it?" She held a flash drive aloft and waggled her eyebrows.

  I huffed out a breath. "Of course I want to see. I didn't go dumpster diving for the fun of it."

  Mac grinned and booted up the computer that had become a semi-permanent fixture on our coffee table. After inserting the drive, she clicked a few files open and then scooted closer so I could see the screen.

  There were four file folders labeled TSL numbered one through four. "I pulled four bags of paper waste out of the bin behind The Shipping Lane."

  "One folder for each bag," Mac confirmed and clicked on bag one. "Ugh. They're all just serial numbers. We're going to have to go through them one at a time."

  I groaned. It was going to be a long night. "My coffee pot is still up at Nona's."

  Mac bounded to her feet. "I'll go get it."

  "Don't let her talk you into treasure hunting!" I called at her retreating back. At just the thought of Nona's cooking, my stomach growled. It had been a long time since that apple fritter. "And bring me back something tasty."

  Fifteen minutes later, we each sat in front of a screen, a basket of scones perched between us—Mac doing homework, me rooting through the trash yet again, although it was somewhat less tedious when I didn't wind up smelling like old fryer grease.

  "So, what's up with Hunter?" Mac eyed me over her steaming mug.

  "Same old, same old." I closed down an invoice for liquor delivery and clicked on the next file.

  "You going to see him later?"

  My hands clenched into fists. "No, I think he's going undercover or something. He said he wouldn't be around for a few days."

  "He's not going to do St. Patrick's Day with us?" Did Mac look disappointed?

  "I don't know, babe. Cops who go undercover don't always get holidays off."

  "And are you going to be okay with that? Not 'seeing' him for days?"

  "You mean shagging him?" I rolled my eyes.

  "Gross, Mom, but yeah, that's the gist."

  "Somehow, I think I'll live." My teeth sank into my lower lip. Maybe I should prepare her so our eventual breakup wouldn't throw her. "Actually, this is good timing because I think we should take a bit of a break."

  "A break?" Mac frowned. "I don't understand."

  "I have a limited amount of free time. You're growing up, and I want to spend as much of it with you as I can before you go blazing out into the world and forget all about me."

  "Like that will happen." She surveyed me a moment. "Did something happen between you two?"

  "What?" Flustered, I opened the next file. Another stupid liquor invoice.

  "What went wrong?"

  "Nothing." At least not that he would admit to. "Mac, we both have work obligations, and some things just aren't meant to be."

  She ignored my excuse. "He must have done something wrong. Mom, come on. You've got that look."

  "What look?" The next file contained employee payroll. I raised a brow at some of the income The Shipping Lane employees pulled down. And that wasn't including tips. "Remind me to take a mixology class next time I'm bitching about a stakeout gone sideways. Those bartenders make good money."

  Mac set her tablet down and snagged a scone. "That panicked look you get. Like you're a squirrel on the highway at rush hour and you don't know which way to jump to avoid getting run over by a semi."

  I rolled my eyes. "Nice image you've cultivated for me. For future reference I prefer being described more as a sexy hot mess and less as road pizza."

  My offspring refused to relent. "This is the longest I've seen you without him in like, two months."

  "He was just with me yesterday." Even as I said the words it felt like a lifetime ago.

  "So, you haven't seen
him today?"

  I threw up my hands. "No. I have work, Mac. So does he. We don't live in each other's pockets."

  She assessed me coolly. "But you're tired of him already."

  I closed the file and clicked on the next before meeting her gaze over the screen. "Look, Mac. Sometimes it just doesn't work out."

  "There has to be a reason." Her stubborn chin jutted up. Then her eyes went wide. "You found someone else!"

  "What? No, of course I haven't." Though I could lie like a rug while on the job, heat burned up my cheeks when I did to my kid. Damn fair complexion.

  "You have!" Her lips parted. "Is it the congressman?"

  "Mac, I just met him yesterday."

  "But you liked him."

  "Yes, I liked him as one human being likes another human being. You would not believe the number of pickles this bar goes through."

  "I'm not going to fall for your look, something shiny diversion. I'm not a magpie." She shook her head. "I don't get it. You have a good thing going with Hunter. Why would you throw it away for a politician?"

  What I wanted to say was that I was keeping my distance from the good detective for a very good reason. The closer Hunter and I grew, the harder it was keeping secrets from him. And I'd promised Agnes that I wouldn't tell anyone about the whole Uncle Al/Reg/who's your daddy issue. But of course, I couldn't say that because Mac too knew nothing about my biological Catch-22.

  Instead, I blurted the next thing that came to mind. "I'm not the one who's throwing it away," I snapped and then clapped a hand over my mouth.

  "Mom?" Mac's brows furrowed.

  I swallowed and looked down, not seeing the open document on the screen. "Forget I said anything."

  "I can't because you haven't said anything."

  "Mac," I exhaled, my tone filled with exasperation.

  "Mackenzie," she countered the exact same way. "Just tell me. Did he cheat on you?"

  "I don't know." My teeth sank into my lower lip when I met her gaze. "But it's highly probable."

  Briefly I told her about the naked blonde.

  "But he wasn't there." Mac looked relieved. "He said he hasn't been there."

  "Yes, but she was there. In his bed in her birthday suit. And he said no one was staying there. If there's an innocent explanation, why would he lie?"

  Mac rose and marched to the door. "One way to find out."

  "Wait!" I tried to scramble up, bashed my knee on the coffee table, and knocked the basket of scones to the floor.

  Mac was already in the hall, fist raised at Hunter's door.

  "Mac!" I hissed, limping after her. "Don't."

  She glanced at me over her shoulder. "You're his landlord. You have the right to know if he's subletting or shacking up with someone not on the lease."

  "Yes, but—"

  She bent down and examined the lock. "It's been picked. Look at the scratch marks."

  I bent down. The shiny brass lock was new, changed by Hunter's brother-in-law less than a month earlier. My worry over the status of my relationship faded. Why hadn't I considered that the woman might have let herself in without Hunter's knowledge?

  "Come on. We need to call the cops."

  "What if whoever is in there broke in and cleaned the place out?"

  "And then decided to pull a Goldilocks in the raw? No way. A thief wouldn't have stopped to take a nap."

  "Maybe she's a criminal Hunter locked up. Or he helped catch a loved one, and she's bent on some sort of revenge against him."

  "Then we really shouldn't get in the middle of it. What if she's armed?"

  Before I could stop her, she rapped smartly. Three successive knocks. I'd just grabbed her shoulder and blocked her with my body when the door swung open.

  "Can I help you?" The blonde looked up at me since I towered over her. She wasn't naked, but this was almost worse. She wore Hunter's oversized bathrobe, which pooled around her ankles. Awake with amber eyes framed by thick dark lashes catching in the light from the hall, she looked even more like a fairy princess, not like someone who knew how to successfully jimmy a lock. At least she wasn't holding a firearm on us.

  My daughter stood on her tiptoes to bark from behind my shoulder, "Who are you?"

  "Mac," I hissed. "Go home."

  "I'm Crystal." Her hands went to her petite hips.

  Crystal. My throat closed up. Delicate looking? Check. Small, blonde, needy. Check, check, check.

  I licked suddenly dry lips. "You're Hunter's ex-wife."

  * * *

  "Who are you?" Crystal, Hunter's freaking ex-wife stared up at me.

  With her identity confirmed, I took in every detail, from her bee-stung lips to her pink polished toes that barely peeped out from the hem of the black bathrobe.

  Mac stepped out from behind me, ready to do battle on my behalf. "We're the building's owners. Did Hunter Black invite you to stay here?"

  "No." Crystal shook her head. "I couldn't get him on his cell."

  Glad to know it wasn't just me. "Then how did you get in?" And why the hell had she been naked in his bed?

  Crystal's amber-colored eyes darted. "His sister told me I could stay here."

  "Which sister?" I asked. I'd met all of the Black family, and universally, Mary Alice, Maureen, and Kate despised Hunter's ex-wife.

  She didn't answer, her gaze going from me to Mac. "I…I had nowhere else to go. He's going to kill me."

  "Hunter?" Though their divorce had left him broken and maybe a tad bit bitter, I seriously doubted he would hurt her just for camping out in his apartment.

  The jury was still out on what his girlfriend would do.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. "No. Do you know where my husband is?"

  "Ex-husband," I snapped. "And no, when I spoke to him earlier, he didn't tell me where he was, only that he would be gone for a few days."

  Even white teeth sank into her trembling lower lip. "I had nowhere else to go. He can't find me."

  "He who?" Mac asked.

  Someone rapped on the building's front door.

  Crystal jumped back with a yelp. "Who is that?"

  "Mac? Mackenzie?" Brett's voice.

  An oath escaped. It wasn't particularly colorful or filthy, but Crystal gasped as though I'd shocked her.

  "I forgot about dinner. Mac, go let him in. You…" I pointed a finger at Crystal. "Go inside and put some clothes on. I'll be back to talk to you in a minute."

  Crystal slammed the door just as Mac threw her arms around Brett. "Hey, Dad."

  "Hey there, kiddo." He frowned, looking from the hem of her frayed jeans to my stale workout attire. "You two aren't ready."

  "Change of plans," I said, but he was already shaking his head.

  "Mackenzie, you promised. I told everyone you were going to be there."

  "Be where?" Mac looked back and forth between the two of us.

  "Your dad invited us to a family function at his parents' house tonight. Supposedly there are going to be some bigwigs who can help you get into MIT that he wants you to rub elbows with."

  "Both of you," Brett stressed. "Get dressed. We'll still make it if you hurry."

  Mac squeaked and scurried toward her room. I didn't budge.

  "Come on, Mackenzie. Look how excited she is. Don't spoil this for her."

  It was an effort not to look back at Hunter's door. "Look, Brett. I'm in the middle of something and—"

  He snagged my elbow and practically perp-walked me into our apartment. "You can't work twenty-four-seven. You need to get out of this apartment and—" He frowned as Hercules sauntered over and began twining himself between his ankles, a low rumbling purr to lull his new victim into complacency. Brent bent lower as if to pick the cat up. "When did you get a cat?"

  "He's not ours, and I wouldn't—"

  "RrreowwWWW!"

  Brett leapt back as Hercules swiped out, claws extended.

  "Touch him," I finished. "Did he get you?"

  Brett examined his hand then shook his head. "Near mis
s."

  Dominance firmly solidified, the cat jumped onto the barstool and then up onto the counter.

  "Not very friendly, huh?"

  "So far he's only taken to Agnes. Speaking of which, I need to talk to her." I did an abrupt about-face and made a B-line for the door. Brett snagged my hood, jerking me to a sudden stop.

  "Hey." I took a swipe at him much as demon cat had done, but he didn't relent.

  "Not so fast. I know your tricks. You say you're going to talk to your mother and then hide out in your car until we give up and leave."

  "I hate that you know me so well," I groused.

  "Just an hour and then I promise I will drive you home."

  "I will drive myself, thank you very much."

  The corner of Brett's mouth hiked up. "That means you're caving."

  "I'm not caving." It had just occurred to me that if Crystal was to be believed, there might be a bad guy out looking for her, possibly one with murderous intent. Without Hunter in the building, that left Mac, Nona, Agnes, and me on our own. At night. In the same building as the woman being hunted. "Look, do me a solid and see if Nona and Agnes are home. If they are, tell them I'm looking for them while I go get changed."

  I hurried for my room to find Mac already rummaging through my closet.

  "Babe, I hate to break it to you, but nothing of mine will fit you."

  "It's not for me." She pulled out a black cocktail dress with a curve-hugging skirt and scooped neckline. "I had to let Snickers out and thought I'd pick out something appropriate for you."

  "You sound like my mother." Who I still needed to apologize to before figuring out what to do about my boyfriend's ex's possible stalker. Oh, and then find some hidden treasure and, while I was at it, save my father's childhood home and catch a killer.

  "Not that one. I don't have the right bra for it." I shuffled through the closet and landed on a slinky emerald number with a halter neckline and a slit up one side. "How about this?"

  "Mom, come on. Your boobs are great, but they aren't going to get me into MIT." Mac went back to digging and retrieved a sapphire A-line dress with cap sleeves and a twirly skirt. "How about this?"