Two Guys Detective Agency (14 page)
dark-complexioned and smooth and her lips were full, although she didn’t smile nearly enough. Today she
was impeccably clad in a red tailored shirtdress and sky-high black heels. With her tasteful and expensive
jewelry, her French manicure, and Coach bag, she could easily pass for an executive working in this
building.
The ugly Mellon Vending lanyard notwithstanding.
When the man noticed it, his body language changed to dismissive, but it didn’t stop him from stealing
a glance at Octavia’s butt when he left.
“What about you?” Octavia asked.
Linda pushed the final chip-loaded spring back into place, then closed the door to the vending machine
and locked it. “What about me?”
“Do you have friends?”
“Sure I do. I have...the neighbors.”
“That fat obnoxious lady is your friend?”
“Nan’s okay. She’s a little nosy, but she means well. Although, I wouldn’t call us friends, exactly.”
“Then who?”
She picked up one end of the inventory box and waited for Octavia to get the other end before
answering. “There are the Logans next door — they have a daughter a couple of years older than Maggie.
And I know all the other mothers at school and soccer...most of them, anyway.” Linda thought about her
tendency to hang back and not get involved in neighborhood activities — the women’s walking group, for
instance.
At Octavia’s dubious look, she felt pressed to further demonstrate her friend-worthiness.
“And there’s Klo. She’s been like a surrogate grandmother to the children.”
“
Hmphh
...she wasn’t very friendly to me.”
“Maybe that’s because you weren’t very friendly to her.” They moved the unwieldy box toward the
elevator. In deference to Octavia’s high heels, Linda walked backward and let her sister walk forward.
“What about your two friends from college?”
Linda smiled. “Alisha and Jackie.”
“Whatever happened to them?”
“Alisha is a sports agent in L.A., and Jackie is a photographer for
Marie Claire
magazine in Manhattan.”
From Octavia’s expression, she was thinking the same thing Linda was thinking: her friends had
glamorous careers, while she had lots of capri pants.
“Have you seen them lately?”
Linda shook her head. “We exchange Christmas cards. They’re both still single...we don’t exactly have a
lot in common anymore.”
“Do they know about Sullivan?”
She nodded. “They both called last week. Alisha couldn’t attend the funeral because she was in China
with a client. Jackie left a nice voice mail message, said she would visit soon.” They had sounded like she
felt — worried about her future. And relieved not to be in her shoes. “What about you, are you still friends
with anyone from college?”
“I ran into Emmett Kingsley the other day at Sullivan’s service. He and I cheered together.”
The face of a tall fashionably-dressed man with glasses came to her. “That’s who that was! I thought he
looked familiar, but there were so many people I didn’t get to speak to.” Fresh pain stabbed at her — how
many people would she never get to thank? “It was nice of him to come. Have you two stayed in touch?”
“Not really.” Octavia gave her a wry smile. “I guess growing up, neither one of us got that whole
friendship thing down pat, did we?”
“Guess not,” Linda conceded. The whole sisterhood thing was still a work in progress, too. She
squinted. “There was another man at the service I can’t put my finger on — tall, good-looking. I thought I
saw you talking to him.”
“That was, um, Dunk Duncan.”
“Dunk Duncan, the basketball player? That’s right — you two used to date.”
Octavia’s chin went up. “We never dated. He chased me, but I didn’t want to be caught.”
Linda smiled. That was Octavia, alright — she’d always led men in whatever direction she wanted them
to go. Poor girl — this situation with Richard had to be eating at her pride.
They carried the box to the elevator, but a crowd of people were waiting.
“We have to take the stairs,” Linda said.
“We’ll squeeze in.”
“That’s one of the rules. We’re not supposed to intrude on people going about their business.”
“I can’t take the stairs in these shoes!”
Linda sighed. “I’ll take the box and meet you in the lobby.”
“But — ”
“Just go.” Linda hefted the box out in front of her and wrangled it into the stairwell, which was ten
degrees warmer than the rest of the building. She looked over the side and saw the six flights of stairs
extending below. At least she was carrying it down instead of up. She proceeded to half-push, half-drag the
box down the narrow stairway, knowing with every bump that chips were shattering in their foil bags.
About halfway down Linda sat down on a step to catch her breath. The tears came out of nowhere. She
was sweating, her back ached, and
if
she’d done everything right and her accounting sheets were approved
when she returned to the warehouse, she stood to make about seventy dollars for the day.
From her big discount clearance purse, she pulled a tissue out of a crushed box of Kleenex and blew
her nose. Her phone rang and she managed to dig it out of the bottom.
Oakley Hall
.
Her finger hovered over the Talk button. She longed to talk to him, if only to speak with someone who
missed Sullivan as much as she did.
But she was still too raw.
She hit the Cancel button to send him to her voice mail.
Linda put away the phone and sniffed mightily. She had to figure out how to get through this mess on
her own. She reached into the inventory box, pulled out a Snickers bar and peeled it like a banana. As she
chewed, she considering her alternatives, which were slim and few.
And fading fast.
OCTAVIA HELD HERSELF against the elevator wall to keep from touching the smelly bodies around
her. “There’s a thing called deodorant, people.”
Glares settled on her, but she didn’t care. What a humiliating day, stocking junk food in vending
machines, foraging change and dollar bills out of the money boxes like peasants.
Linda couldn’t live like this...something had to give.
The elevator doors opened and the crowd surged forward, thank God. She waited until the masses
exited, ripped off the dreadful lanyard she’d worn all day, and walked out.
Directly into Dunk Duncan.
He reached out his long arms and caught her as she bounced off his big body. His expression changed
from surprise to recognition.
“Octavia! What are you doing here?”
She swallowed her dismay and conjured up a smile while she scanned for Linda. Thankfully, her sister
hadn’t arrived yet with the telltale box of snacks. “I’m...here with Linda,” she said. “Family matters.” She
discreetly slid the lanyard into her bag.
His handsome face rearranged into concern, then he glanced around. “Where is Linda?”
“We, um, were separated.”
“How is she doing?”
Good question. It was clear from her swollen morning eyes that Linda spent the better part of her nights
crying, but during the days, she held herself remarkably together. If she were in her sister’s shoes, she
wouldn’t be getting out of bed in the mornings. “Under the circumstances, she’s doing okay.”
“No woman should have to lose her husband.”
Octavia squirmed — or misplace him. “What are you doing here?”
“My office is across the street. I’m here to meet with an assistant D.A. to talk about a case. My agency
does a lot of work for the county prosecutor’s office.”
“That sounds exciting.” Damn, but the man could wear a black sport coat.
“Guess I’m still an adrenaline junkie,” he said with an easy smile. “This job suits me better than pushing
paper.”
A jab at her attorney husband, who pushed enough paper to fill the city dump? “So, tell me, Dunk —
what makes a good private investigator?”
He pursed his mouth. “A curious mind, good observation skills, and the ability to read people.”
“Really?”
“I’ve always prided myself on knowing what people want before they know it themselves.” His voice
was rich with innuendo.
Octavia arched an eyebrow. “I thought that was called E.S.P.”
He laughed. “Well...some people have accused me of having special powers.”
“I’ll just bet.” Wanting to break away before Linda appeared, she moved toward the door. “I really have
to go. It was nice seeing you.”
“Are you going to be in town for a while?”
“Maybe,” she hedged. “It depends on how long Linda needs me.”
“Let’s have lunch.” He retrieved a business card from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her.
“I’ll have to get back to you.” Her pulse blipped when she saw Linda emerge from the stairwell.
“Goodbye, Dunk.”
“Goodbye, Octavia.” He waved and turned toward the elevator, but to her chagrin, he caught sight of
Linda and, after doing a double-take, rushed to help her with the box.
She sighed...the man was chivalrous to a fault.
Octavia hurried over to intervene. “Linda, this is Dunk Duncan.”
“We were just introducing ourselves,” Dunk said. “I explained that Sullivan and I were professional
colleagues.” He squinted at the cardboard box of potato chips. “Are you...stocking vending machines?” He
gave an incredulous little laugh that morphed into the most awkward moment ever.
“Yes, we are,” Linda said pointedly.
Dunk looked at Octavia and she wanted to die.
“Oh.” He blinked, then recovered. “Well, then...where are you parked? I’ll carry this out for you.”
“That’s not necessary — ” Octavia began.
“I insist,” he said, then took the box from Linda. “Actually, Mrs. Smith, I wanted to talk to you.”
Linda looked wary — good girl. “What is it you want to talk to me about, Mr. Duncan?”
“Call me Dunk.”
“Dunk,” she relented.
He glanced around at the people zigzagging by them. “Perhaps outside would be more private.”
Linda shot Octavia a puzzling look. Octavia lifted her shoulders in the tiniest of shrugs. She followed
Linda and Dunk stiffly, wishing she could hit the rewind button for the last five minutes.
Scratch that — make that for the last five
days
.
Dunk kept mum until they reached the minivan and he’d deposited the box inside. Linda thanked him,
then waited for whatever he had to say.
He flashed a bullshit smile that encompassed both of them. “I just want to say again how sorry I am for
what happened to Sullivan. And I’d like to take any cases he had left open off your hands. His agency
would keep the client retainers, of course. Transfer the files to my agency, and we’ll simply pick up where
he left off.”
Warning flags went up in Octavia’s head. She had no reason to think he was being anything but
magnanimous...and she couldn’t imagine what Dunk could possibly gain from taking on Sullivan’s
leftovers...plus he was offering Linda a tidy way out of her financial dilemma.
Still...Octavia’s instincts were screaming that Dunk couldn’t be trusted. But it wasn’t her decision to
make.
Linda offered him a smile. “That’s very kind of you to offer, um, Dunk, but we won’t be needing your
help. Octavia and I will be handling the outstanding cases.”
Octavia’s eyes bulged, but she had checked herself by the time Dunk swung his surprised gaze her way.
“Really?”
“Really,” Octavia confirmed.
He gave a little laugh. “No offense, but what do you girls know about investigating?”
Octavia gritted her teeth because the man had a point.
“Well,” Linda said, holding up her Mellon Vending lanyard, “we
girls
know how to get into any
building in this city without raising suspicion.”
Octavia’s jaw dropped.
Go, Linda!
“But thanks anyway,” Linda added.
Clearly perturbed, Dunk had no choice but to retreat. He said goodbye to Linda, and by the time he
turned to Octavia, his charm was back. “Call me if you need...anything.”
“Will do,” she said, and watched him stride away, his long legs eating up the ground. When he was out
of earshot, she turned back to Linda. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Linda said, shaking her head. “He was just so damn smug, I couldn’t resist.”
“You were brilliant...I didn’t recognize you.”
Linda frowned. “Thanks. I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”
“You and me, working together — how could that go wrong?”
“Right. Get in the van.”
Octavia climbed inside, feeling better — meaning less like she was going to have a stroke — than she
had since Richard had ditched her at the funeral.
“So,” Linda said once they’d pulled onto New Circle Road, heading toward the agency, “is Dunk still
chasing you?”
“I get the feeling that Dunk chases a lot of things.”
But she couldn’t deny that seeing him again gave her a charge. Especially now when her life was not the
most inviting place to be. Seeing Dunk reminded her of when she was young and beautiful with countless
possibilities scrolling out in front of her.
She pulled out her phone to check for voice messages. When she saw she had one, her heart jumped.
Richard? She punched in the number, but it was Frank’s voice that came over the line.