Two Guys Detective Agency (22 page)

loose and goes on a stampede through the neighborhood? You have kids, you should understand.”

“We’ll handle it, Nan. Thanks.”

“See that you do.”

Nan turned and Octavia made a lunge for her, but Linda stopped her. “She’s right. You’re going to have

to find somewhere else to keep him.”

A worried look pinched her brow. “I don’t have the money right now to pay for boarding him.”

Linda pressed her lips together. “I might have a solution.”

“What?”

“The guy who owns the pawn shop down from the agency, Grim Hollister?”

Octavia frowned. “What about him?”

“He has a farm and I seem to recall that he has horses. Maybe he’ll stable your horse temporarily.”

“No way,” Octavia said, shaking her head. “I will not be beholden to that base man.”

*****

Octavia ground her jaw. “Mercury.”

He walked all around the horse, patting him down with long, tapered hands. She noticed with a start

that he was wearing the snakeskin boots — but, presumably to cover the ketchup stain, had dyed them

bright pink.

And didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“What a beauty.” Then he looked back at her and winked. “And you have a good-looking horse, too.”

“You’re hysterical. May I see your stables, please?”

“Sure, right this way.” He led Mercury down a path and she followed, taking the opportunity to look

around.

The man had a prime piece of land located close to Keeneland race track and Blue Grass Airport...but

he’d set on it a hick cabin that looked like it had been made from red Lincoln Logs — ugh. Too rustic for

her tastes.

But she supposed it suited him.

He walked ahead of her, lean and long-limbed, dressed in dark jeans and his ever-present black T-shirt.

She guessed some women would find him and his body artwork attractive. His ponytail extended past the

nape of his neck about three inches. He looked like he worked out, but he probably got those arms from

doing something greasy like retooling car engines or buffing out his crotch-rocket motorcycle.

When the horse barn came into view, though, she pursed her mouth.

Not bad.

It was a classic style that resembled a church from the profile, minus the steeple. A center aisle design,

she could tell from here, with stalls on both sides and a loft with glass windows along the length of the

inset. Painted white, with a red roof. And nicer than the home she’d grown up in.

“Does it pass muster?” Grim asked.

“I’ll reserve judgment until I see the inside.”

His laugh was low and throaty. “Okay.” He tied Mercury off to a white hitching post in front, and

opened the double doors.

Inside, the ceilings were high and the lighting, excellent. Ceiling fans moved slowly overhead.

Everything was clean and shiny. The floor was concrete and studded with drains. There were five stalls on

either side of the center aisle, three of them occupied with horses that apparently were accustomed to Grim,

as they hung out their heads and stretched their necks toward him.

“Yours?” she asked, reaching out a hand to scratch the head of a white mare.

“The mare and the big quarter horse are mine. The gelding is a rescue animal.”

“So Mercury would be your only boarder?”

“Yep.”

“And do you have a helper?”

“Nope.”

“Will you have time to care for him properly?”

“Probably. But you’re welcome to come out any time to ride.” He grinned. “Him, of course.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And how much will you charge me for temporary boarding?”

“Linda said you were a little strapped for cash at the moment.”

God, she hated being poor! “That’s right. So what kind of deal can you cut me?” She angled her head.

“And don’t even think about some kind of lewd barter.”

“No?” He looked disappointed, then nodded to her finger. “I figure that emerald ring will take care of

it.”

She gasped. “This is my engagement ring! And it’s worth a lot more than a few months of horse

boarding.”

“Really? And how much is it worth not to call your bank and tell them where to find the horse?”

Linda had revealed way too much to this goon. “You wouldn’t!”

“Afraid I would. Horse stealing is a crime, you know. A hundred years ago, you would’ve been

hanged.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my horse....he’s just not paid for yet.”

“Po-tat-o, po-tot-to.” He held out his hand.

She screwed up her mouth, then pulled off her emerald ring and dropped it into his palm. “I hate you.”

“Things change,” he said with a cocky smile, then pocketed the ring.

Ooh!
Octavia threw imaginary daggers into his back as he went outside to fetch Mercury.

Of one thing she was certain — she would never
not
hate this man.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE FEMALE receptionist at the Lexington Division of Police offered Linda a smile through an

opening in a thick glass wall. “May I help you?”

“I’m Linda Smith...the wife of the l-late Sullivan Smith, who used to be on the force.”

The woman’s smile turned to an expression of sadness. “Yes, I knew your husband, Mrs. Smith. I’m

very sorry for your loss.”

She inclined her head, then held up a card. “The precinct sent flowers to the service. I was hoping you

could post this thank-you note in a public place, maybe in a break room?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you. Also, is Detective Hall available?”

“I’ll check.” She picked up a phone and punched in a number, then spoke into the receiver before

setting it down. “Detective Hall will be right out.”

Linda stepped back to wait, nodding at uniformed officers as they passed by. She recalled Jarrod’s

sentiments that he wished his dad had remained a cop. She understood what her son had meant — being a

police officer was a noble calling. Seeing Sullivan in his uniform had never failed to stir her.

Oakley appeared through an open door, his expression tentative. “Hi, there. Is everything okay at

home?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “Is this a bad time to talk?”

“Never for you. Come on back.”

She followed him through a security door and into the buzz of a busy office with an open desk

configuration. Phones rang and voices vied to be heard. An announcement was being made over the PA

system that no one seemed to be paying attention to.

He led her to a cluttered desk against a wall. “Sorry I can’t offer something with more privacy.”

“This is fine.” His work area was devoid of personal items — no photographs or mementos...that was

Oakley. She took the seat he cleared off for her. “I want to talk to you about something.”

He lowered himself into his chair. “About Octavia’s situation? She called me last night. I think I’m close

to having some information for her.”

Linda frowned. “Octavia called you?”

He frowned. “That’s not why you’re here?”

“No. But what’s going on?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure I should — ”

“Oakley, she’s living in my house. Whatever’s going on might affect my kids.”

“Right. Well, your sister was at a cocktail party last night and got the impression that her husband might

be afraid for his life.”

Linda raised an eyebrow. “You mean from Octavia?”

He smiled. “No. From the man who came to your house. I’m still trying to find a plate match to the

partial Octavia got. But it got me thinking that if Habersham
was
afraid of something — maybe a client or

someone else connected to a case — he might’ve requested protective custody.”

Linda brightened. “You think that’s where he’s been?”

“I’m waiting for a call back from the Jefferson County D.A.’s office to see if they have any information

they can give me.”

She felt a surge of affection for him. “Thank you, Oakley.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He lifted his hands. “So, if you didn’t come to talk about Octavia, what did you

want to talk about?”

“I wondered if you knew anything about a big case Sullivan was working on, something maybe for the

D.A.’s office here in Fayette County?”

He looked confused. “Why do you want to know?”

“The D.A. asked Klo for a case file that she can’t find...something about Foxtrot?”

“It makes sense that Sully would be working on something for the D.A.’s office at any given time. Most

investigators do.”

“So you don’t know anything about Foxtrot?”

He shook his head. “I can’t say that I do.”

She nodded, feeling foolish, not even sure what she’d hoped to gain from talking to Oakley.

“Okay...thanks.” She pushed to her feet. “I’d better be going.”

“So soon?”

She pointed to her lanyard. “Those chips won’t stock themselves.”

“I’ll walk out with you.” He led her back through the labyrinth of desks to the door that spilled into the

lobby. As they were going out, another man was coming in. He looked vaguely familiar to Linda and when

he caught her eye, he did a double-take.

“You’re Mrs. Smith, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Milton Jacobson. I attended your husband’s service.”

“That was very kind of you.”

“I was sorry to hear about Sullivan — unlike a lot of guys around here, I never had a problem with him

when he was on the force.”

Linda blinked.

“Jacobson, Mrs. Smith is running late,” Oakley said.

“Right. Good to see you, ma’am.”

She made some appropriate remark. When he was gone, she looked at Oakley. “What was he talking

about?”

“Don’t pay any attention to him.” But she could tell the man’s comment had bothered him, too.

She touched his arm. “Oakley, what aren’t you telling me?”

He wavered.

“Oakley...please.”

He looked aggrieved. “Sully didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what?”

“That he left the department on bad terms.”

She drew back. “I thought he left because he wanted to strike out on his own.”

“I’m sure that was part of it...but he also had some enemies in the department.”

She was stunned. “Why would Sullivan have enemies?”

“Oh, you know Sully — he had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It made for some

bruised egos and bad feelings. It just got to be too tense around here.”

“He was asked to leave?”

Oakley drew his hand over his mouth. “The captain thought it would be best.”

She inhaled sharply as betrayal stabbed her. How could Sullivan not have told her the truth? And how

could Oakley have kept his secret? Humiliation rolled over her that Oakley knew Sullivan had kept her in

the dark about the reason for his career change. What must he think of their marriage?

“I have to go,” she said.

“Linda, don’t hold this against Sully.”

“Or you?”

He pressed his lips together. “It wasn’t my place to interfere.”

“Goodbye, Oakley.”

“I’ll be in touch about Octavia.”

“If you find out something, call
her
,” she said pointedly, then turned and left.

Outside she gulped for air, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under her — again. How dare

Sullivan exclude her from information that affected her livelihood. How many other things about her

husband did she not know?

As she went about her vending rounds, Linda tried to shake the resentment that had sprung up in her

heart toward Sullivan...he was gone now and nothing else should matter.

But it did. It mattered that she’d fashioned her life around his, to be his loving, supportive partner, and

in return he’d disrespected her so thoroughly. Sullivan had always been dismissive of her trivia games and

puzzles and the prizes she’d won. Patronizing, now that she thought about it. He wouldn’t have believed she

was capable of tackling the open cases he’d left behind...much less closing them.

While she was stocking the vending machines in the building where she and Octavia had run into Dunk

Duncan, she recalled him saying he was there to meet with an assistant D.A. After the last bag of Ruffles

had been refilled, she checked the building directory and found the D.A.’s offices. Then she scanned

individual names. Klo had mentioned the A.D.A.’s last name in a conversation, but she couldn’t remember

it.

But she recognized it when she saw it —
Houston
. B.L. Houston, 4th floor.

She took the stairs to the fourth floor, then stuck the box of chips inventory under a draped table in the

hallway, and slid the telltale lanyard into a pocket. She found the correct office, then explained to the

secretary that she was there to see A.D.A. Houston about the Foxtrot case.

The reaction was impossible to miss. The secretary excused herself, then returned to lead Linda into an

office where an attractive black woman was Skyping a meeting while eating a cup of Greek yogurt,

obviously her lunch. She held up a finger to indicate she was wrapping up and to have a seat in the chair in

front of her desk.

Linda sat nervously, more than a little intimidated by the sheer number of leather-bound tomes on the

woman’s bookshelves, the framed diplomas on the wall, and the stacks of paper on the work tables. All of

it was so much more exciting than her life.

A tone sounded and Linda looked up to see the woman walking toward her, hand extended.