Crash and Burn (6 page)

“Coffee?”

Scarlet wanted to say no because she didn’t want a social call, but the coffee smelled incredible and she needed more caffeine.

“Thanks.”

“Cream? Sugar?” Wendy asked, her eyes wide and perky. A completely different personality from the raving woman by the side of the road yesterday, or the nut job Douglas had described.

“Black.”

Wendy grimaced, then laughed. “To each her own!”

They sat at the glass dining table. There was art on the walls—the kind of contemporary art that must be expensive because it made no sense to Scarlet. There were also several picture frames of Wendy and her girlfriends and Wendy and Jim. Wendy and Jim in Hawaii. Wendy and Jim in this condo. Wendy and Jim on the beach.

Maybe Jim was right and she was obsessed. Why would she have pictures of her ex if she also got a restraining order against him?

“Thank you for coming,” Wendy repeated. “You must have a fascinating job.”

Scarlet didn’t want to engage in small talk. “You have a list of the personal items your ex has?”

She frowned. “Yes. But don’t you want to know what happened?”

“No.” Wendy’s face fell and Scarlet realized her bedside manner was atrocious. But she hated drama, and drama was written all over Wendy’s expression. “Can you give me the abridged version?”

“I love Jimmy.”

“You got a restraining order against him,” Scarlet said flatly.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Scarlet stared at her. Didn’t mean to? It wasn’t exactly an easy, painless process.

Wendy continued. “It’s just that when we fight, he’d go all possessive on me, thinking I was cheating on him, or some such stupid thing.”

Not so stupid, considering that adultery was Scarlet’s bread-and-butter.

“And it got all out of control. And then he wouldn’t give me back my stuff—every time I came to get my things, he’d go all crazy.”

Crazy
. Exactly what Douglas said about her. Exactly what Scarlet thought about this whole situation.

“Look, I’ll get everything back. No problem. Give me the list.”

“And can you give him a letter for me?”

Her big blue eyes were hopeful.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Scarlet said.

“Tell him if he reads it, just listens to me for once, I’ll never bother him again. If that’s what he wants.”

She leaned forward. “Wendy, listen to me. You need to move on. He needs to move on. Cut ties. You have a restraining order against him. He wants one against you. Some people are like oil and water. They don’t mix.”

“But we’re like oil and vinegar, we’re better when we’re together.”

Scarlet blinked. This was
not
happening.

“Wendy—”

“Please, give him the letter and get my stuff.” She slid over two envelopes. One was marked
Moreno & Hart Investigations
and the other was marked
Jimmy
.

Scarlet took them. So help her, she was going to regret this, but she picked up the envelopes. “And your list?”

Wendy tore a sticky note off a pad. Scarlet took it. In the girl’s flowery handwriting with circles that dotted each “I” she’d written:

Bikini (blue)

Manolo sandals (white)

Diamond stud earrings

Abercrombie perfume

Laptop + case, charger

Blender

“This is all?” Scarlet said. “And you’re one hundred percent certain these are your items and that Douglas has them?”

“Yes,” she said with confidence. “That’s all. He gave me back everything else.”

“Why’d you get a restraining order against him in the first place?”

She bit her lip. “You’re not going to tell anyone on me, are you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I kinda lied on the form.”

“I don’t want to know.” Why had she even asked?

“You see,” she began as if Scarlet hadn’t spoken, “he thought I was cheating on him, which I wasn’t, and he was yelling at me. My girlfriend Margie said the only way to make him go away was to get a restraining order. She’s an attorney with the county. And so I did, but I didn’t really want to—it was a lot easier than I thought it’d be. And she filled it all out. I just signed it. He didn’t even contest it, and I don’t understand why—”

“Look, the legal system isn’t there for you and your ex to play psychological war games with each other.”

“I know, I know. It was for ninety days only, and I’m not going to renew it.”

Probably because she’d have to go in front of a judge. Lying on paper was a lot easier than lying in person.

Scarlet looked inside the unsealed envelope. It took all her self-control for her eyes not to bulge out of her head.

Two. Thousand. Dollars.

It had taken her over a week to earn the two thousand Cavanaugh paid her to get proof his wife was cheating. And before that she’d been jobless for ten days.

She picked up the envelopes and sticky note. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

Anything? Who said that when they didn’t know what the conditions were?

“If your ex reads this letter and says no more, he never wants you to call, email, write, drive by, follow, rear-end, or even
think
about him, you don’t. You stay away from him. You take your stuff and find a new hobby. Got it?”

She nodded, her eyes wide with sincerity. “Absolutely. I promise.”

The problem with good liars was they were absolutely sincere when they lied. Scarlet got that squishy feeling in her gut that Wendy was lying. Or maybe that was because Scarlet just didn’t like her. It was people like Wendy and Jim that made Scarlet want to be stranded, alone, on a deserted island.

Scarlet finished her coffee. It really was too good not to drink. Then she got out of there.

Wendy Anderson had a screw loose. But was she dangerous? That was the million-dollar question.

~ ~ ~

Mac called Scarlet while she drove to Douglas’s place. She put him on speaker. “You’re fast.”

“Not really. I don’t have everything you want, but I found something you might want to know. Douglas and Anderson were engaged.”

“Like to be married?”

“Twice.”

“Twice?”

“I just said that.”

She shook her head to clear it. “When?”

“Last year they announced their engagement in the paper, and then six months ago they announced a re-engagement.”

“Any un-engagements?”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

Wendy had no ring on her finger, but generally an engagement was a mutually agreed upon thing. Neither Wendy
nor
Jim had mentioned that to her.

Scarlet considered tearing up the check and ignoring calls from both of them.

“Thanks, Mac.”

“You can use it?”

“Hell if I know, but any information is better than the shit I have.”

Jim Douglas was home when Scarlet arrived five minutes later. He had an apartment in a cheap but clean complex filled with young people—mostly college students by the stickers on the cars—in Irvine. It was just after eleven in the morning. She needed more coffee, and food would be good. In and out, get Wendy’s stuff, deliver it, then she would take the whole weekend off.

Except, she had the little issue of a murder on the beach.

Jim was surprised to see her. “What happened?”

“I talked to Wendy.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to her.”

“I didn’t. But she called.”

“Why?”

“She wants some stuff back.”

“Oh.” He looked pained. “I don’t want to see her.”

“Good. You don’t have to. I’m going to take the things to her. Are you willing to just hand them over and make it easy on all of us?”

“Of course.”

“She said she’d leave you alone if she gets her things back.”

“She did?”

“Yep.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t look relieved. Was he upset? She couldn’t tell, but his reaction was weird. What was it with these people? Scarlet didn’t want to give him the letter, but Wendy
had
paid her an asinine amount of money to be postmaster for the day.

“Here.” She handed him the envelope that said
Jimmy.

He stared at it for a long time, then folded it and put it in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“Later.” He motioned for her to enter.

She stepped inside. It was obvious Jim hadn’t lived here long. There were stacks of books along the wall, a solitary couch, desk and small kitchen table. Boxes lined the wall of the eating area.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’d been engaged?”

“I said she was my ex.”

But Jim was avoiding her eyes. Damn, damn, damn.

“Just give me Wendy’s things, I’ll return them to her, then I’m done.” She handed him the sticky note.

He took the note and stared at it. For a moment, she thought he was going to cry. “I was so stupid.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that.

“I should never have gotten involved with her. It’s not going to be this easy, you know. It never is with her.”

“Just stay away from her, she’ll stay away from you, and that’s that.” In a perfect world.

He shook his head and said, “Wait here.”

He went down the short hall into the bedroom. Scarlet glanced around. He might have been in the middle of unpacking, but he also looked like he was ready to leave in a moment’s notice.

A short minute later, he came out with a box. It was obvious he’d already had it packed. “I was going to return her things, and then she got the restraining order and I was angry.”

Scarlet took the box. “I’m done. Whatever you do with Wendy, that’s between you and her. Unless you
really
think she’s going to kill you.”

“No—I guess not. I was just so mad yesterday when she backed into my car. I don’t come from money like she does. I can’t just snap my fingers and have daddy buy me a new car.”

“My advice? You two are trouble waiting to happen. Don’t be stupid.”

“Will you still come if I call?”

“If you feel your life is threatened, call the police. Okay?”

“So she hired you and now you won’t help me. That’s rich. All our mutual friends, they side with her because they’re shallow. And she bought you off, so now I have no one.”

Scarlet bristled. “No one bought me off. She hired me to get back her things. End of story.”

“Whatever.”

Scarlet didn’t like the direction of the conversation. “Look, Jim, if she shows up, call the police. Tear up the letter and tell her to never contact you again. Whatever you do, don’t be stupid.”

He shrugged and didn’t comment.

Scarlet left after verifying everything on the list was in the box. Her stomach was growling, but she wanted to give the stuff to Wendy and be done with this damn case. Wendy seemed surprised that she returned so quickly.

“What did he say?”

“Not much.”

“Didn’t he read the letter?”

“Not while I was there.”

Wendy frowned.

“You promised, Wendy. Give him space.”

“I know. I tried, but—”

“No buts. You two are trouble,” Scarlet repeated. “I’m done here, right?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly.

Scarlet was going to regret saying this, but she was compelled to by her conscious. Damn Jiminy Cricket.

“I still owe you a few hours. If you
really
need me, call, okay?”

Wendy smiled brightly. “I will. Thank you.”

Scarlet drove away feeling confused. Nothing was that easy. Especially nothing that earned her two thousand dollars.

Mac called her almost immediately as she was driving toward Newport in search of food.

“I found something I think you should know.”

“I’m already done with Anderson and Douglas. Just email me. And the engagement tidbit was great.”

“Thanks, but it’s not about them. It’s about Alexander Bishop.”

She’d almost forgotten about the detective.

“Give it to me.”

“I’m sending you a bunch of newspaper articles, which is all I can get on a Saturday from Sacramento.”

“Sacramento?”

“That’s where Bishop was a detective. Sacramento PD. Last year he was in the middle of a major investigation. He killed some kid—it was gang related, the kid had a gun, but the kid was only fifteen, and there was a trial and disciplinary hearings and a major shake-up in the police department. The media was gunning for Bishop, there was public outcry, the whole nine yards. He was cleared of any wrongdoing, but not until he was put through the wringer for a few months. Six months later, he was hired by Newport.”

Scarlet barely heard what Mac said after that. She wanted to hate Alex Bishop. He was investigating Isaac, had iced her out, and worse, had put her in a slot she didn’t deserve.

But she knew all too well how he felt. The public and private accusations. The pain. Because it didn’t matter if a gun was pointed at you, it didn’t matter if your life was in danger. Shooting a fifteen-year-old kid tore you up inside. Shooting
anyone
made you feel like shit, even if your life was at risk.

Still didn’t make it better.

Chapter Six

When Scarlet walked into Diego’s, she was surprised to see Bishop standing at the bar.

“Bishop,” she said, at a loss for words. Of course he would be there. He was investigating a murder, but she hadn’t thought she’d be seeing him so soon. “What are you doing here?”

He glanced behind him. Her eyes followed his to Isaac who was standing behind the bar with a dour expression.

You’re the one who told him about the altercation between the victim and Isaac. Good going, Moreno.

“Shit,” Scarlet muttered.

Bishop caught her eye. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Because if she were still a cop, she’d be thinking the same thing.

“Do you have any evidence pointing to Isaac, or is this just routine?”

“Nothing about this case is routine,” Bishop said.

She caught Isaac’s eye, but then the bartender turned away. If he shot that kid, he was going away. An in-depth investigation would hurt Diego and his business, but if Isaac was guilty, Diego wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure. With the litigious society, there’d be civil suits and bad press.