Trapped by Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure (3 page)

She jerked to a stop. “Dimples? Did you just call Harris Dimples?” A huge grin spread over her face. “That’s awesome. I bet he hates it.” She couldn’t wait to see his face when she called him that.

“No!” I said, alarmed. “You really shouldn’t do that. You don’t want to antagonize the one person who could give you the information you need, right? If you start calling him Dimples, he’ll never want to talk to you again.”

Her brows drew together. “How did you…?” She figured I’d seen it on her face and decided to play dumb. “Me?” she laughed. “Call him Dimples? I wouldn’t think of it.” Another thought occurred to her. “But if you do, what’s the difference?”

What could I say? He lets me get away with it because he likes me, and he doesn’t like you? Although he might like her. After all, he did think she was a tough cookie. “I don’t call him that to his face,” I chided, letting the lie slip out without a second thought. “That would be unprofessional. I called him that with you just now because I thought you’d appreciate it. I mean, his dimples are pretty hard to miss, and in a way, they’re quite mesmerizing, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” she agreed, knowing she’d thought that exact same thing only a few minutes ago. We must be on the same wavelength. Cool. “We’ll just keep it between the two of us then.” She smiled conspiratorially, thinking that this gave her some common ground with me, and I would be more willing to talk to her next time.

I smiled tightly, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut after all. What was I thinking? If she called him Dimples, he’d never know it was because of me. Or maybe he would. If he thought I’d talked about him behind his back, that would be bad. No, this was the right thing to do. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret it later.

“Well, I’ll be going.” I ducked under the yellow tape and rushed to get away.

“Okay, bye,” she called. “It was nice to meet you.”

I glanced back at her and waved over my shoulder. “Yeah… you too.” I hurried toward my car and sighed with relief to escape. Of all the lies I’d told today, that was by far the biggest.

Luckily, my car was parked across the street, far enough away that it wasn’t blocked by all the police vehicles. By now, quite a crowd had gathered, all gawking at the building and wondering what had happened. I had to pass through them to get to my car, so I heard their thoughts speculating about what was going on and wondering if someone was dead. I put up my shields like I always did when surrounded by a lot of people, knowing how awful it could get for me. I’d almost made it to my car when someone grabbed my arm.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Ramos! Sheesh, you scared me.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked, confused since he knew I could read minds.

“No. Sorry. I put up my shields. You know, because of the crowd.”

“Oh, got it.” His lips quirked in a concerned smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping you’d pick up my thoughts and find me in the crowd, but you passed right by, and I had to grab your arm to get your attention.”

“That’s okay,” I smiled back. His hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen him, but he looked really good, and I had to squelch my impulse to give him a big hug. I let my shields slip and caught that he was thinking the last few months hadn’t changed a thing.

“What happened in there?” he asked. My pale face and haunted eyes worried him and brought out those protective feelings inside that made him want to shoot somebody.

I sighed and closed my eyes. “Not good. I found Killpack. He was dead.”

“Let’s find a place to talk.”

I nodded and let him lead me down the street to a corner café. With all the commotion, the place was practically empty, and we slid into a back booth. “You want anything?” he asked.

“I could sure use a Diet Coke,” I said, smiling.

He chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched him go and tried not to admire how his shirt pulled across his perfectly sculpted back. The short sleeves showed off his dark, muscled arms, and his jeans molded to his legs. I sighed. Holly would be gasping right now. Or drooling. I should take a picture just so I could show her. On second thought, that was just so immature. What was I thinking? He came back with my drink, and I sighed. It was time to stop salivating and get down to business.

“Thanks,” I said. “Um… and thanks for the birthday present you sent. It was great. I keep it on my dresser, and every time I see it, I smile.” Ramos had sent me a toy alligator for my birthday. It came with the flowers from Thrasher Development, but there was a note in the alligator’s mouth from him. It said, “Remembering Orlando,” and was signed A. R. for Alejandro Ramos.

He grinned. “I thought you might like it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Seeing that alligator in Orlando is the only time I’ve ever seen you scared of anything.” Ramos cocked his brow at me, not liking that I’d thought he was scared. Oops. “Hey, I’m teasing. I know you weren’t really scared. I’m sure nothing scares you. It was probably just that you were surprised and maybe thinking the word scared, but you never really said it. So it doesn’t count.”

Ramos shook his head, thinking I sure knew how to stick my foot in it, and it would be better for me if I just quit talking.

“Oh, okay, I’ll stop now.”

His smile grew, then his shoulders shook and he started to chuckle. “You asked for that one.” He loved teasing me, and took a deep breath to quell his laughter. He was thinking he’d missed me, and he was glad to see me again. Even if I was always sticking my foot in my mouth.

I pursed my lips, not sure I could believe anything he said…or rather, thought. “Hey, no fair,” I said, a bit disgruntled. That made him chuckle again. “You’re having way too much fun here.”

“Ah, Shelby… it’s true that I’ve missed you. So tell me what happened with Killpack.”

I explained how I’d gotten there early and found him dead. “He was slumped over his desk with blood all over him. But that’s not all… this was on his desk.” I glanced around before pulling the notepad out of my purse and sliding it to him.

As he made out my name, his brows puckered with concern. Then his sharp gaze slid to mine. “Are you sure he wrote this?” he asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “I mean… it looked like it. The pen was still in his hand until I picked up the notepad.” I explained how the pen slid into the guy’s face and how I had to move his arm back into position.

“But you didn’t touch anything, right?” he asked.

“No. Well, yes, but only his shirtsleeve.” Why did I always agree, and then have to back-track when Ramos questioned me? It was like I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and disappoint him.

“Okay, good.” Ramos sighed, wondering why in hell Killpack had written my name down. It was a good thing I’d picked up the notepad. But what did it mean? “Do you mind if I keep this? I think it would be safer with me.”

“Sure,” I nodded. How could I refuse Ramos?

To my surprise, he tore off the top page and slipped it into his pants pocket, then threw the rest of the notepad into the garbage. He sat back down, glancing around the café, looking for anything that seemed suspicious. Satisfied, he caught my gaze. “Did the cops question you?”

“Yes, but don’t worry about that,” I hurried to explain. “Dimples… I mean Harris… is the Detective on the case, and he’s a personal friend of mine.”

“Yeah, I know him,” he said. “He’s the one you’ve helped out a few times.” The accusation in his voice came through loud and clear.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Ramos said. He was thinking Dimples was just one more person to take advantage of me, and it bothered him because it was like I was just asking for more trouble, as if I didn’t have enough of that with Manetto. How my husband could let me… “Sorry,” he said, cutting off his thoughts. He paused for a moment before continuing. “So Dimples…” he said, emphasizing the nickname, “is on your side?”

“Yes,” I agreed, grateful to get back to my story and pretend I hadn’t heard what he’d thought. “I told him I was meeting with Killpack for some pointers about being a private eye and that’s why I was there. Of course he believed me, and that was that.”

“Good thinking,” he said. “I’d better tell Manetto what happened. Right now, I don’t know if Killpack’s death has anything to do with Manetto, but your name on that pad has me baffled. I’d like to know what Manetto thinks about this and what he thinks you should do. I think you’re safe to go home, but in the meantime, watch your back. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know immediately.” He was worrying that with my name on the notepad, I could be a target, and he wasn’t entirely sure I was safe on my own.

“You mean like writing my name was more of a warning to me?” I asked. “He did know I was coming to see him so that actually makes sense. I mean… when I first saw the note, I thought he was naming his killer, but since I didn’t kill him why else would he write my name?”

Ramos thought I made a good point. “But I don’t want to jump to conclusions. There’s definitely more to this than we know. If you want, you can come with me to the office. After we tell Manetto what happened, I could follow you home.”

“Oh no, that’s okay… I need to get home now. But I promise to be careful,” I said. “Besides, I have my ‘super-power’ skills and my stun-flashlight in my purse. I’ll know if someone’s after me, and if they try anything, they won’t know what hit them.”

Ramos smiled at my bravado, but judging from the recent past, he wasn’t so sure I should be left alone. I had stunned quite a few people with my little stun flashlight though, so maybe it would work.

“Damn straight,” I said, answering his thoughts. “And I am going straight home.”

“All right,” he agreed. He slid out of the booth, and his lips quirked in a silly smile. Thoughts of me zapping anyone who got close ran through his mind. “I’ll watch to make sure you get to your car safely, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything useful from Manetto.”

“Okay,” I agreed. Sudden anxiety rippled along my spine. So much for being brave. I stood and moved closer to him, glancing up into his face. “Um… be sure and call if you find out anything I should be worried about.”

“Don’t worry Shelby.” He caught my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’ll take care of this.” The hard edge in his voice left no doubt in my mind that he meant every word and would do whatever it took to get rid of the threat.

“Thanks,” I said. His warm touch took me by surprise. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He nodded, and after another quick squeeze, dropped my hand. I left the café, feeling relieved that Ramos had my back, even if it meant taking matters into his own hands like I knew he could. I should probably urge him to be a more law-abiding citizen, but I knew that would never happen, and it really didn’t bother me that much. In fact, it made me feel safe. Did that make me a bad person?

The crowds were gone and only one police car remained, so it was easy to get to my car, especially since I knew Ramos was watching out for me. I started the engine and realized it was almost three-thirty. Dang! Now I had to hurry home before my kids got there. My day had not turned out like I’d hoped.

But the biggest worry that crept over me didn’t have anything to do with missing my nap or making it home before my kids. Nope, it was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something bad was headed my way, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Chapter 3

Chris got home right before dinner, so I didn’t have a chance to tell him about my day. We sat down to eat, and things were going smoothly until my doorbell rang. I jumped up and hurried toward the living room to look out my window. There, standing on my front porch, was Billie Jo Payne. What on earth?! How did she know where I lived?

“Who is it?” Chris asked.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open and then moaned, “No, this can’t be happening,” under my breath. The doorbell rang again, sending tremors of horror through my body.

“Are you going to answer it?” Chris couldn’t imagine what was wrong with me. Why was I just standing there like a frozen dummy? When I still didn’t move, he jumped up to answer it himself. That jolted me into action and I bolted for the door, practically shoving Chris out of the way.

“I got it!” I yelled. “Let me take care of this… you… go back to the table and eat your dinner.”

Now it was Chris’ turn to stare at me like a frozen dummy. “What the hell…?”

I pulled open the door just enough to squeeze through so Chris wouldn’t see who was out there. The fact that I’d told him to go back to the table made him even more determined to stay and find out what had me so rattled, so I pulled the door shut behind me and stepped out onto the porch.

“Billie Jo… what are you doing here?”

At that moment the door opened behind me, and I stifled a curse. “Who is it Shelby?” Chris asked in his friendly voice. He stepped out onto the porch and smiled at our visitor, thinking that he wouldn’t let me pull a fast one on him.

“This is Billie Payne,” I said, sweetly. “She’s a reporter for a news outlet, only I don’t know which one.”

“Oh,” Chris said. He immediately regretted butting in. “Nice to meet you. I’m Shelby’s husband, Chris.”

“Oh my!” Billie said, shaking his hand vigorously. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. I’ve read about some of your cases in the paper and I’ve always wanted to do a piece on a trial attorney. Do you have any interesting cases coming up?”

“Uh… no, not at the moment,” he stammered.

“Well, that’s okay,” she gushed. She was thinking that my husband was one handsome man, even if he was an attorney. She wouldn’t mind spending some time in an interview with him. It was bound to be interesting, especially since he was married to me. She wondered if I did any investigative work for him. That might make an interesting piece. She could see the lead-in to the story right now… “Attorney-Investigator Dream Team, Working Together Today for a Quick Indictment Tomorrow.” Well… maybe not quite that cheesy, but something like that could work.

Her bright smile included both me and Chris. “I’m actually here to ask Shelby some questions about the dead man she discovered this afternoon. Do you have a minute?”

Surprise and shock from Chris poured over me. His eyes widened and he cursed in his mind, then glanced at me with a tight smile and thought I had some explaining to do, followed with
this better not be as bad as it sounds
. What he said was, “Why don’t you two go ahead? I need to finish my dinner.” He turned abruptly and vanished inside the house, closing the door behind him.

“Oh… did I get you at a bad time?” Billie asked.

“It’s okay,” I said, disgruntled that now Chris was thinking the worst. This was not how I envisioned telling him about my day. “What did you want to know?”

“I did!” she said dramatically. “I’m so sorry. Should I come back? I could come back in an hour?”

“No… no, that’s fine. Just… ask me your questions!” My voice rose a little bit and I was ashamed, but not enough to apologize. This woman seemed to bring out the worst in me.

“Okay,” she nodded, subdued. She was thinking that I was kind of an uptight person, and she’d better hurry up and get the interview or I might just ask her to leave. She glanced at her notes and found her place. “The secretary said you had an appointment at two p.m. with Mr. Killpack. Is that right?” At my nod, she continued. “The police said he was still alive when his secretary left for lunch at about one p.m. So what time did you discover the body?”

“It was after one-thirty,” I said. A chill ran up my spine as I realized for the first time how close I’d come to walking in on the murderer.

“Did you see anyone leaving the office or anything that looked suspicious?” Billie was thinking the same thing. Had I passed the killer in the hall without even knowing it?

“No. I didn’t see anyone. When I got off the elevator, the whole second floor was deserted. It was kind of spooky.”

“You must have barely missed the killer then. Or else he was hiding in the restroom or something. That was a close call.” She was thinking I was lucky I didn’t get killed or at the very least, smacked over the head. “Were you a client of Mr. Killpack’s?”

“That’s why I was there,” I said. “I wanted to hire him to help me with something.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” she said. “Except for the fact that you’re a private investigator too. Why would you need to hire another private investigator? Isn’t he the competition? I don’t see private investigators working together much. Were you collaborating on something? Was that what got him killed? Do you have any idea who would want to kill him?”

“I’d never met him before so… no, I have no idea who would want him dead or what he knew.” The lies tripped easily off my tongue, but I’d learned a lot playing poker and knew how to keep a straight face.

“Oh… okay,” she said, wishing I could have been more helpful. She glanced at her notes. She was thinking she could write that the person who found him, (me), arrived only moments after his death, but didn’t see or hear anything suspicious. And said person (still me), believed it had to be a disgruntled client. If she could only find out who some of Killpack’s clients were, it would help her get a better angle for her story. Like if there was a mob boss, or a senator, or a rich guy, or something along those lines. “Do you know who any of his clients were? Did someone refer you to him?”

“No,” I answered, surprised by how close she was to the truth. “I just knew him by reputation. From what I heard, he was really good at his job, and it’s hard to believe someone got the drop on him. He must have known them, because there was no sign of a struggle.”

“Really?” she perked up. “That’s good. Anything else?”

“No, and I’m afraid I’m out of time.”

“Well… thanks then.” She glanced at me with speculation in her eyes, wondering what I was hiding and why. “Sorry I interrupted your dinner. If you remember anything of interest, please let me know. Here’s my card.”

She handed me her card and left, thinking I knew more than I was telling, but until she could figure out what, she’d have to go another route. Too bad the only thing Killpack told her in their one phone conversation was how to do a better job with her reporting. It wasn’t anything useful to the story she was working on. Wow, had she only just talked to him last week? It was still a little spooky that he was dead now. Who could have killed him? Could it be related to her story? What she really needed was a list of Killpack’s clients. If she could only figure out how to get Dimples to share what he knew with her, that would help. Maybe if she took him some homemade cookies? She’d heard it said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so maybe that would soften him up.

Shaking my head, I closed the door. It rattled me that she thought I knew more than I was telling. Which was basically true, but how could she tell? I thought I had a good poker face. So what gave me away? Then it hit me that she’d thought “Dimples” instead of Harris. Oh boy… was I in trouble now, and there was nothing I could do about it. I hurried back into the kitchen, but everyone had disappeared, leaving the food still on the table. Since I wasn’t hungry anymore, I picked up my plate and scraped the half-eaten food down the disposal.

At least everyone had cleaned up their dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher. But why was it that no one liked to put the leftover food away? Feeling unappreciated, and a little guilty about how I’d shoved Chris out of my way, I finished clearing up and left to find him. He was in his study checking the news for homicides on the Internet.

“Hi honey,” I said. “Where did everyone go in such a hurry?”

He mumbled something about Savannah and Josh having things to do before glancing at me with disappointment and wondering why this always happened. Things had been going so smoothly, and he’d almost forgotten that I could read minds, which was such a relief. Why couldn’t it just stay like that? He should have known something would happen to rock the boat. And now I’d found a dead body? And he had to hear about it from a reporter?

“So did Manetto call you or something?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine me getting into trouble without Manetto somehow involved in the whole thing. Why hadn’t I told Manetto I was finished working for him liked I’d planned? That was the only way to stop being involved with him. So why didn’t I tell him off? Dammit! Was this going to turn into another nightmare?

I opened my mouth to answer what he said, rather than what he thought, but anger was churning my blood to the boiling point. Didn’t he know I could hear him? I clenched my jaw and tried not to snap back at him.

“I thought…” he began.

“I know what you thought,” I said sharply, cutting him off. “And just in case you’ve forgotten, I know everything you’re thinking. I already feel bad enough that I let him talk me into helping him today, and your thoughts about how I didn’t tell him off are just making it worse. Do you think I like helping him? Do you think I want to do what he asks?”

Chris sucked in his breath. Wow, I was really upset. He instantly regretted his ‘knee-jerk’ reaction, but he hadn’t been prepared for this. “Maybe we’d better start over,” he said.

“And just so you know,” I continued. “Everything that happens isn’t always my fault like you think it is.”

To my shock, he came to my side and wrapped me in his arms. “I know, honey, and I’m sorry I got mad. It just took me by surprise, especially after the last few weeks. I’m sure you don’t like this any more than I do, and I’m sorry I thought that. So what’s going on? Tell me what happened. I’m sure it’s not as bad as I think.”

I could hardly believe that Chris was apologizing for his thoughts. He’d never done that before. A part of me melted inside, and I sank into his warm embrace. “Thanks. It means a lot that you’d say that.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it before now,” he replied. “It’s just… lately things have been going so well. I guess I just wanted it to stay that way. But it’s okay, we’ll figure this out. So what did Manetto want?”

I took a deep breath, letting all the anger drain away. “Uncle Joey called this morning with a quick errand for me. Remember when I came home from Orlando in the limo with Uncle Joey and how I picked up that the chauffeur was spying on him?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pursed his lips, not liking the reminder that I’d spent a week in Orlando with Ramos.

“Uncle Joey found out he was a private investigator and asked me to visit him. He wanted to know if there was anything else I could glean from his mind,” I continued. “But when I got there, he was dead.”

Chris sucked in his breath and dropped his arms. He rubbed his forehead in the way he always does when he gets upset and began to pace a little. The lawyer part of him kicked in, and he began to pepper me with questions. “Were you alone? Where was the secretary?”

“A late lunch, I guess.”

“And you had an appointment?”

“Yeah. Uncle Joey set it up, but I got there about half an hour early.” I shuddered, remembering all that blood. “He was still warm when I checked his pulse. But it gets worse.” I glanced at Chris with an apologetic smile, knowing this was really going to upset him.

“What?” he growled, knowing that look.

“He wrote a name on a notepad before he died. It was all squiggly and hard to read, like he was writing it after he’d been shot. Anyway…it was mine.”

“Yours?” A moment of disbelief crossed his mind before it sank in. “Damn!” Chris closed his eyes but managed to stay in control. “Where’s the paper?” he asked. “I need to see it.”

“Uh… Ramos took it.” I cringed just a little, knowing Chris wasn’t going to like that.

“Huh? So Ramos was there too?”

“No. I mean he was, but not when I got there. Ramos was supposed to meet me in front of the building. Uncle Joey sent him for my protection, but since I was early, I didn’t see him until after I’d talked to the police. From there, Ramos and I went to a corner café down the street, and I told him what happened and showed him the note. He asked to keep it, so I let him. I think he wanted to make sure I didn’t lose it or something, although I never actually heard him say that… it was, you know… in the back of his mind?”

“Okay,” Chris said. He was thinking that the note put a whole new spin on things and made it look like I was the murderer. It was a good thing I’d snatched it up.

“It does?” I gasped.

“Yes. It’s the first thing the police would have picked up on. So now Ramos has it. What the hell is he going to do with it?” Chris was thinking that Ramos would give it to Manetto who could hold it over my head, making things even worse than they already were. I shouldn’t have let that note out of my sight.

“I don’t think that’s what Uncle Joey would do,” I said. “I think he’d try to help me.”