Dirty (42 page)

“What’s cooking, girls?”

My ever-flamboyant mother strolled up to our table looking terrific in her new jogging suit that sported more patriotic color than the giant flag flying over the Cadillac dealership.
 
Power walking and cooking healthy were her latest undertakings.
 
According to Dr. Phil or some other all wise and all knowing guru, learning something new every week was good for the memory.
 
Her friends at the Ladies Auxiliary had decided their newest venture needed to focus on cardio and eating well to enhance their love lives as well as their health.

At least they were no longer running around with cucumber peeling stuck in their dentures.

“Hello, Mrs. Mercer.”
 
Donna hopped up and gave Mother a hug.

The rest of the table followed suit, including me, of course.
 
Shari dragged up another chair and insisted Mother join us.

“So what has the Ladies Auxiliary been up to?” Shari asked, knowing damned well my mother would talk the subject to death.

Mother pooh-poohed the question.
 
“Who cares?
 
I’ve had my fill of that bunch of batty old broads.”

When did this happen?
 
Before I could ask, Mother continued.
 
“That Wilma Patterson thinks she’s the stuff.
 
Got herself a boob job.”
 
Mother leaned into the center of the table, as did everyone else.
 
“They’re so frigging huge she’s gonna need a new zip code.”

“But I thought Wilma was your best friend?”
 
What had I missed while burrowed in my own problems?

“Nah...she’s a bitch.
 
Didn’t I ever tell ya why her first husband left her?”

Oh no.
 
When my mother started in on stories about the past I got worried.
 
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
 
There was no telling what she might say.

“Tell us,” Donna urged.
 
She loved discussing other people’s business.
 
Hazard of the job, she would insist.
 
I felt like kicking her ass.

“Well,” Mother glanced covertly around, “Harry told her she needed to show more interest in his family so she did.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Shari wanted to know.

Mom’s eyebrows winged upward.
 
“She slept with his brother.”

I’d heard this story before but everyone else at the table looked properly mortified.

“No wonder he left her,” Donna said resolutely.
 
“Bitch.”

Mary Jane shoved her glasses up her nose.
 
“Betrayal is unpardonable.”

While everyone else was busy agreeing, I sat there scrutinizing Mary Jane’s simple remark.
 
I had to stop that.
 
Mary Jane was far too sweet to be hiding anything big.
 
It was just my suspicious nature.

“You shouldn’t give up something you like just because you’re upset with Wilma,” I reminded my mom, using the same advice she’d used on me a thousand times.

Mother shrugged.
 
“Who cares about Wilma or any of them?
 
All they want to do is sit around and talk about joint pain and acid reflux.
 
Every time I try to infuse some excitement into the bunch like vibrator workshops and blow job classes they get all pissy.
 
They’re all mad at me because I came up with this new vaginal cream recipe.
 
I’ll probably make a fortune off it.”

“Wow!
 
Does it work?” Mary Jane wanted to know, duly impressed.

My mother made a scoffing sound.
 
“Well of course it does.
 
Tastes just like barbeque sauce.
 
It’ll have the guys eating out of your—”

“We get the picture, Mom,” I said, cutting her off.

Okay.
 
Now I just wanted to hunker under the table.

“Look,” my mother’s gaze met each of those seated around her, “Ladies Auxiliary be damned.
 
I’m not ready to give up all the vices that kept me in a good mood for over half a century.”

“Amen,” Shari and Donna cheered.

“Well, I’ve got to go.”
 
Mother popped out of her chair.
 
“Hope you girls have a good day.”
 
She leaned down and spoke for our ears only again.
 
“And remember, men are like boomerangs, handle’em just right and they always come back.”

With that sage advice she sashayed away.

My mother...she needed her own talk show.

I suddenly wondered if I had handled Dawson just right.

I parked my Jeep in the usual spot and strolled into the building through the rear entrance.
 
Abruptly I stopped, blinked and tried to analyze what I saw.

In the reception area sat three men, none of whom I recognized.
 
From the looks of them, none I wanted to know.

Being very quiet so as not to make a sound I eased back down the corridor and outside.
 
I fished out my cell phone and punched in the agency’s number.

I knew I’d paid my quarterly IRS payment so it couldn’t be about that.
 
I couldn’t call to mind any other reason I might be in trouble.
 
Hadn’t pissed off anyone that I knew of lately.
 
Unless someone at HPD was holding a grudge against me related to Cates.
 
But I didn’t think so.

“Mercer Agency,” Hobbs singsonged.

“Don’t say my name out loud just listen,” I hissed.
 
I don’t know why I found it necessary to whisper.
 
I was outside after all.

“Uh-huh,” my assistant hummed.

He was musical like that.
 
You had to know him.

“Who are those men?”

“Let me check, Ms. Mercer’s calendar.”

I could hear him walking into my office.

Anticipation pumped through my veins.
 
I was certain the Disposable business was over.
 
Couldn’t be about that.

“They’re applicants for the investigator position,” he said in a low voice.
 
“Where are you?”

“I’m coming in now,” I told him, then I closed the phone and dropped it back into my bag.

Applicants.

Interesting.

I absolutely refused to feel the slightest regret or guilt at moving forward.
 
I couldn’t wait forever to hear from Dawson.
 
I wasn’t waiting.

“Good morning.”
 
I smiled broadly as I entered the reception area.
 
Three faces that spanned the gamut and somehow defied immediate description smiled back at me.

Hobbs stood and made the introductions.
 
“Misters Hewitt, Moffett, and Billingsly.”
 
He gestured to each man as he said the corresponding name.
 
“Jackie Mercer.”
 
He directed their attention to me.

Each of the gentlemen greeted me politely.
 
I cleared my throat and tried to think of something clever to say, but wit escaped me at the moment.
 
“I’ll be right with you.”

“Alita is waiting in your office.”
 
Hobbs nodded in that direction.

“Thank you.”
 
I flashed my audience another polite smile and escaped to my private space, quickly closing the door behind me.

“Morning, Miss Jackie.”
 
Alita turned in her seat to beam a happy face my way.

Thank God Hobbs had put her in here first.

“Hey, Alita.”
 
I looked around.
 
“Where’s Emilio.”

“We make private meeting today, no?”

I nodded.
 
“Right.
 
Of course.”
 
I had the information on Emilio’s father.
 
She likely feared the worst and didn’t want her son to hear it.
 
She needn’t worry though.

After tossing my purse aside I moved around behind my desk and retrieved an envelope from the middle drawer.
 
“This contains the current address and other specifics about Emilio’s father.”

Alita stared at the envelope for a long while before taking it from me.

“He’s actually in Texas,” I reassured.
 
“He’s a foreman on a cattle ranch.
 
Has an excellent reputation.
 
And...”
 
I couldn’t help feeling particularly glad about his part.
 
“He never married.
 
He’s still single.”

Tears welled in Alita’s eyes.
 
“You think is okay to see him?”

I nodded.
 
“I think it’s very okay.”
 
I pointed to the envelope.
 
“In fact, there are two bus tickets in there for whenever you decide you want to go for it.
 
There’s also a gift certificate for three nights’ stay at a Holiday Inn in the town near the ranch where he works.
 
Go, Alita,” I urged, “tell him you still love him and that he has a son.”
 
I thought about my mother’s words.
 
“A man whose been handled right always comes back.”
 
Knowing Alita she had done exactly that.

She pressed the envelope to her chest and swiped her eyes.
 
“You too much, Miss Jackie.”

I’d heard that before but not exactly in the way Alita meant it.
 
Who needed a big screen TV anyway?
 
Definitely not me, not when selling it could bring Alita this kind of happiness.
 
“I’m glad to help.”

Alita hurried around my desk and hugged me.
 
“By the way,” I remembered to tell her, “I also found out that he tried to find you about a year ago but the PI he hired was an idiot.”

Alita smiled at me.
 
“I so glad you not an idiot, Miss Jackie.”

This was the part of my job I liked best.

When Alita was on her way, I summoned Hobbs into my office.
 
“Close the door.”

As he did the phone rang.
 
I snatched up the receiver, a foolish part of me hoping it would be Dawson.
 
“Mercer.”

“Mrs. C?”

Max.
 
“Hey, Max, what’s up?”
 
I shrugged when Hobbs looked at me questioningly.
 
This call was not about work and it was also none of my nosy assistant’s business.

“Just wanted to let you know that little project we’ve been working on has launched.
 
Check it out.
 
Anytime now you’ll hear Nance screaming all the way from the station house.”

“Thanks, Max.”
 
I dropped the phone into its cradle and hurried to the computer on my credenza.

“What was that about?”
 
Hobbs rushed up next to me.

I quickly tapped the necessary keys to go to the HPD website, then the unofficial Rob-Ho page.
 
I burst into laughter.

Hobbs pressed a hand to his chest.
 
“What is
that
?”

It was Nance.
 
His image, which had been transposed so that he wore trashy women’s underwear and was doing a nasty little dance across the screen.

“Never piss off a woman who once baked chocolate chip cookies for the next Bill Gates,” I muttered.

I closed the browser and sighed.
 
I straightened and beamed a satisfied grin at my assistant, then it dropped into a ground-dragging frown when I remembered the three men waiting just outside my office.

Hobbs cleared his throat.
 
“You want a run down on the applicants?”

God, the guy was scary.

“That would be nice.”

I settled into my chair and he moved around to the front of my desk and leaned against one of the chairs there.
 
When he didn’t take a seat I nodded for him to start.

“Hewitt, sixty-six, retired security guard who decided he needs a hobby,” Hobbs said, ticking off the pertinent info on applicant number one.

I frowned.
 
“Is he the one with the walker?”

My assistant nodded.

I somehow kept a small portion of my sense of humor about me.
 
“Next?”

“Moffett, forty, a college student who decided he needs a job.”

“College student?”
 
Oh my.
 
“The guy wearing the grim reaper shirt?”
 
I wanted to be sure who we were talking about here.

Hobbs raised a skeptical eyebrow.
 
“He turned forty and decided it was probably time to get a job.
 
His birthday was a week ago and he’s been wearing that same t-shirt ever since.”