Two Guys Detective Agency (12 page)
Linda stared in stunned silence as Octavia strode back to the van and climbed inside. It took some time
for her and Max to get settled, then she turned her head toward Linda.
“What?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Linda sputtered. “You could be arrested!”
Octavia untied the scarf and scoffed. “Everyone thinks one of those kids did it.”
“Well, I hope you feel better.”
“I will if Richard shows up.” She offered up a glib smile. “When the alarm goes off, he gets an
automated call on his cell phone. If he’s within driving distance, he’ll show up. Nothing means more to
Richard than his practice.”
Linda pursed her mouth. Good thinking.
They were tucked far enough away from the spectacle that no one would notice them, but still Linda’s
heart pounded. Max lifted his head and bayed.
“Can’t you shut him up?” Octavia snapped.
“The alarm probably hurts his ears,” Linda said, but rubbed his head to quiet him.
A security officer arrived on the scene first, then a police car. The alarm continued to wail. The police
talked to a bystander who waved in the direction the teenagers had gone. Notes were taken. Much head-
scratching ensued. More gawkers arrived.
But no Richard.
At length, the alarm stopped. A repairman showed up with a toolbox and a piece of plywood to cover
the broken window. Within forty-five minutes, everyone was gone.
Linda could tell that Octavia was bitterly disappointed.
“We can wait a few more minutes,” she offered, although they’d be cutting it close to get home before
the kids.
“No.” Octavia sat back in the seat. “Let’s go.”
Linda started the van and pulled out. “Would any of his friends know where he is, or maybe his
secretary?”
“I called them and no. His secretary said he told her he had a family emergency, and needed to close the
office for a couple of weeks. His friends haven’t heard from him.”
“Have you contacted his family?”
“There’s only his brother in Denver, and they’re not close. I called him and he hasn’t talked to Richard
since the holidays.”
She decided this wasn’t the best time to point out that the two of
them
usually only spoke during the
holidays. “Are you going to report him missing? I can ask Detective Hall to make some inquiries.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
From the utter despair in her voice, Linda knew Octavia was referring to more than Richard. She
glanced at her glamorous sister, who was accustomed to valet parking and personal shoppers, now reduced
to wearing discount clothes and sharing her seat in a minivan with a dog, and her heart contracted.
“I have a confession to make,” Linda said.
Octavia looked suspicious. “What?”
“This morning, when you said you’d done everything wrong...”
“You have to remind me?”
“No. I didn’t say anything because...that’s how I feel, too.” Linda wet her lips. “I chose a family over a
career, and I put all my energy into Sullivan and what he wanted out of life. And now...look at me.” She
blinked back tears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do either.”
Octavia gave a little laugh. “We’re a fine pair. I wish I could help you financially, Linda, but I can’t.”
“And I wish — ” Linda stopped. “Wait...maybe I
can
help you.”
“You’re giving me a place to stay.”
“No, I mean I have Sullivan’s agency.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I’ll have to shut it down, of course. But I know the agency has access to information that’s not
available to the average citizen. Maybe we can use those resources to find Richard.”
Octavia sat up. “Really?”
Linda shrugged. “We can try. I have to go by the agency tomorrow to talk to the office manager about
closing out the books and ending the lease.”
“Okay...it’s a start.”
Linda’s phone rang, and it was just out of reach. Her heart jumped to her throat — had one of the kids
changed their mind about school and wanted to come home? “Can you see who’s calling?”
Octavia picked it up and glanced at the screen. “Oakley Hall.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Let it roll over to voice mail.”
Octavia arched a brow. “He seems very...attentive.”
Linda shifted in her seat. “He’s Sullivan’s best friend. He’s just concerned.”
“Oakley Hall...why is he familiar to me?”
“I, uh...might’ve dated him once.”
“Only once?”
“Maybe twice.”
“Do tell,” Octavia said, leaning close. Even Max perked an ear.
“Nothing to tell,” Linda said breezily. “I met Oakley first, but as it turned out, Sullivan and I were more
suited.”
“Hm.”
“How long have you lived in your house?” Linda asked to change the subject.
As expected, Octavia’s face lit up as she gushed about her home, and described each room in
excruciating detail since Linda hadn’t seen the inside. She pretended to be interested as they retraced their
route back to Lexington, but her mind jumped ahead to the end of her little adventure that had allowed her
to keep everything at bay for a few hours.
Her heart grew heavier and heavier as they neared her house. By the time they pulled into the garage,
she was fighting tears again. She didn’t want to be there without Sullivan. And the piles of dusty building
materials were an acute reminder of just how many things were left undone.
She didn’t want to go inside to the mess, to the stack of thank you notes she had to write and the
messages of sympathy in the mailbox and on the phone.
Just as the panic started to overwhelm her, the kids arrived home from school. She passed out hugs and
kisses and asked them about the party and the basketball game. They were talkative and seemed happy to
see “Aunt Tavey.” When she looked at them smiling, she could almost pretend nothing was wrong.
“Are you moving in, Aunt Tavey?” Maggie asked.
“No. I’m just staying for a few days.”
“Good. Can I have marshmallows for lunch again tomorrow?”
“And Oreos?” Jarrod added.
Linda gave Octavia a questioning look, but her sister shook her head as if she had no idea what they
were talking about.
“How about pizza for dinner?” Octavia asked.
The kids cheered, but Linda’s mind raced to the money they shouldn’t be spending.
“It’s on me,” Octavia offered.
A nice gesture, but she knew her sister’s funds were dwindling, too. “Jarrod, show Aunt Tavey where
we keep the pizza coupons.”
While the three of them headed toward the kitchen, Linda thumbed through the mail and sighed at the
number of sympathy cards — all well intended, but draining. A little envelope symbol on the phone
indicated there were messages waiting. She dialed into voice mail and listened with a closed throat to three
messages of condolences, two bill collectors, and the last one from an unknown number.
“This message is for Linda Guy Smith. This is Mellon Vending. We have immediate openings for
stockers in the Lexington area. The hours are flexible, but you will need to provide your own vehicle. If
you’re interested, please arrive at our warehouse at 555 Industrial Way no later than nine a.m. Monday
morning, prepared to start. Bring a picture I.D.”
When the end tone sounded, Linda gave a little laugh. It wasn’t the high-powered career she’d hoped
for in college, but maybe it would keep the wolf from their door. And right now it was a tiny light of hope
to get her through the weekend.
She would take that.
OCTAVIA STARED UP at the small generic sign that read “Private Investigator” hung over a
nondescript door to a lackluster storefront in an uninspiring strip mall on Todds Road that featured a dry
cleaner, a pawn shop, a gym, and a Waffle House. “This is it?”
“This is it,” Linda said cheerfully.
The kids bailed out of the van and ran inside.
Octavia sagged as all the optimism she’d felt that the agency might be able to find Richard drained
away. “I’m guessing Sullivan didn’t have a marketing manager.”
“I think his philosophy was that people prefer discretion.”
She climbed out, her back aching from the cursed futon. At least she was wearing her own clothes and
shoes, although she was seriously overdressed for this part of town. “But how did people even find this
place?”
“He got referrals...sometimes. The business was still growing.”
Because Linda’s voice cracked Octavia kept her mouth shut as they walked inside. But it was clear from
looking at the dark little hole in the wall that Sullivan Smith had not been running a thriving business. She
recalled her conversation with Dunk Duncan, about how he handled only high-end cases. Sullivan was
obviously at the other end of that spectrum.
The reception area was small, with dated, dismal wallpaper and an old metal desk with a matchbook
under one of the legs. A row of file cabinets lined one wall; random empty drawers stood open. A rickety
table held a stack of files. A shredder sat in the floor with strips of mangled paper littering the bad carpet.
Packing boxes were stacked nearby.
A woman hugged the children and tweaked their cheeks. Linda introduced her as Klo Calvert,
Sullivan’s secretary and office manager. Octavia remembered her from the funeral home — her red hair
dye was at least three shades too dark and she’d been wearing a skirt much too short for a woman her age.
The top she wore today was obviously the rest of that lurid outfit.
“Nice to meet you,” Klo said coolly.
“Likewise,” Octavia said, trying not to stare at the woman’s cleavage. Good God, you could lose a
sandwich in there.
While Linda and Klo talked and the kids entertained themselves with a Hacky Sack, Octavia glanced
around. Behind the reception area was a small bathroom. To the left was a closed door, which she surmised
was Sullivan’s office, where he’d collapsed. Linda wouldn’t even look in its direction.
“I have a favor to ask,” Linda said to Klo. “A background check on an individual — can you do that?”
“Sure. I handled most of the background checks. The fee to the databases we use is paid through the
end of the year. I just need a full name and social security number.”
When Linda glanced at Octavia, a warm flush climbed her neck. She recited Richard’s full name and his
social security number.
One of Klo’s too-thin eyebrows raised. “Habersham? Are you related to this person?”
“Only by marriage.”
“I see.”
Octavia hated the knowing look the woman gave her.
“And how deep should I go — credit report? Phone records? Arrest and conviction records?”
She swallowed hard. “The works.”
“Are you and he on the same cell phone usage plan?”
“No. His cell phone is through his law firm. But we have a land line at home he sometimes uses.”
“Okay, I’ll need that number, as well as your social and address.” She handed over a pad of paper and a
pen. Then she dismissed her by turning back to Linda.
Tingling with embarrassment, Octavia wrote down the information. Damn Richard for putting her in
such a demeaning position.
“These are the bills,” Klo said in an apologetic voice to Linda, handing over an accordion folder. “I
talked to the landlord and unfortunately, if we end the lease early, we’ll forfeit a one thousand dollar
deposit.”
Linda looked stricken, but nodded. “What about receivables?”
Klo shook her head. “None. In fact, we’re on the hook to refund some of the retainers clients put
down.”
“Does the agency have the money?”
“No,” the woman said quietly. “But the good news is you’ll be able to take a personal tax deduction on
the loss the business shows.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. As if Linda was going to make enough money stocking vending machines —
gawd
— to pay taxes in the first place. “How many open cases are there?”
Both of the women turned to look at her.
“How many open cases?” she repeated.
“A few,” Klo said in a clipped voice.
“Don’t you think Linda should see those files?”
Klo bristled. “I was planning to call the clients and let them know we can’t complete work on their
case.”
“Maybe if Linda calls on behalf of her deceased husband, the clients will be less inclined to ask for their
retainer back. Ditto with the landlord.”
“I don’t think — ” Linda began.
“No, she’s right,” Klo said, although she looked as if she didn’t appreciate being upstaged. “It could
save the business a lot of money, maybe enough to cover the bills.”
“Including payroll?” Linda asked.
Klo nodded.
“Then yes,” Linda relented with a sigh. “Please make a copy of the open case files. I’ll call the clients
next week.”
“There’s one case Sullivan was working on for the D.A’s office. I already received a phone call asking
me to mail the file and his notes to them.”
“Of course, send it. I’ll come by for the other files before we leave — I need to drop off some thank
you notes to the neighboring businesses.”
Klo nodded and reached out to clasp Linda’s hand. “I can’t tell you how sorry — ” She broke off and