Two Guys Detective Agency (7 page)

looks. “You look the same, maybe better. Are you still in Louisville with what’s-his-name?”

“Richard Habersham, and yes, I am. Richard was just named one of Louisville’s top ten attorneys.” She

fixed an innocent expression. “What do you do?”

His chest puffed. “I have my own investigative firm.”

“Ah. So you knew my brother-in-law?”

“In passing. I’m here out of professional courtesy. Unlike Sullivan, we only take on high-end cases.”

“Oh? So there are dicks, and there are dicks?”

He pursed his mouth. “Something like that.”

“And how’s Tiffany?”

“Bethany?”

“Right.”

“She’s good.”

But not great
. Her phone buzzed.

“Do you need to get that?” he asked.

“Excuse me just a moment. It’s probably my husband. He’s so attentive.”

She glanced at the screen, then squinted and read it again.
Things are bad, I have to disappear, need to

sort things out. Stay with Linda for now
.

“Octavia? Are you okay?”

She looked up, could feel that her face was on fire. “I’m fine,” she said, thoroughly exasperated with

Richard and his long hours. But just because things were bad at the office didn’t mean he was going to

ditch her in Lexington. “I just need to call him back.”

“Okay, well, it was really good to see you.”

His gaze swept over her hungrily, and she felt her body loosen in response…dammit, he still affected

her. “Good to see you too, Dunk.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, she pressed the speed-dial button for Richard, and got his voice mail.

She disconnected and tried again…and got his voice mail again. “Richard, I don’t know what’s going on,”

she seethed, “but you simply must call me at once!” She stabbed the End button, fuming. What had gotten

into him?

“Octavia?”

She turned to see Linda standing in the door of the funeral home. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

She tried to hide her irritation — her sister was having a bad day, too. “Sure.”

Linda bit her lip as she approached. “I hate to bring this up, but the office manager just stopped me. I

wrote a check against your check I deposited this morning.”

“And?”

“And…I called my bank. There seems to be a problem with your check. It was returned.”

Octavia scoffed. “It bounced? That’s im — ” She stopped as a horrible thought worked its way into her

head.
Things are bad, I have to disappear
.

No…he couldn’t…he wouldn’t.

She walked out of earshot, pulled out her phone and called their accountant, threatening the

receptionist’s longevity if she didn’t put her through
pronto
. She knew something was wrong as soon as

Frank Bruno’s voice came on the line.

“Octavia…hello.”

“Frank, a check I wrote bounced. What the fuck is going on?”

He sighed. “I warned Richard this was going to happen.”

“
What
was going to happen?”

“I...well...”

“Just tell me!”

He cleared his throat. “You’re bankrupt.”

A croaking laugh escaped her. “That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s true.”

“Frank, we have savings accounts...and investments...and a huge home!”

“Not anymore. Things have been bad for a while. I’m sorry.”

Her vision dimmed. Richard’s bad moods, long hours, and angry phone calls now made more sense.

Ditto for all the calls from credit card companies, the ones Richard had told her to ignore.

“Where’s my husband?” she whispered.

Frank sighed. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Her heart stalled in her chest.

“Octavia?”

She looked up to see Linda staring at her with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

She’d been appalled by Linda’s predicament — husbandless and broke…what modern woman allowed

that to happen? It was simply unthinkable that she could be in the same boat.

And yet…she was.

Chapter Six

“WHAT AM I going to do?”

Linda gripped the steering wheel and turned her head right to take in the sloppy, shuddering mess of her

sister sprawled in the reclined passenger seat of the van. Remembering the waterproof mascara Octavia had

given her, she thought her sister should’ve been so kind to herself. Her face was streaked black from

hysterical tears, her red lipstick smeared past her nose, her dark hair standing up from Octavia literally

pulling at it.

Linda was stunned — she’d never seen her sister display so much emotion. Octavia was the one who

shrugged off unfortunate events as if they had no bearing on her. When their father had sat them down to

tell them their mother had left on her own accord and wasn’t coming back, her thirteen-year-old sister had

stood and jammed her hands on her hips and declared, “Who needs her?” The next day her sister had

announced she’d changed her name from Susan to Octavia, and told Linda there would be no further

mention of their runaway mother. And that was that.

To see her sister so emotionally distraught was like seeing the sunrise at midnight — it went against the

natural order of things. At a loss, Linda could only draw upon her maternal skills. “We’ll figure it out.”

Which only elicited another cry of dismay from Octavia and a renewed round of boo-hooing.

Linda pursed her mouth and decided that, like when Maggie was upset, it was best to just let Octavia

wear herself out. She looked back to road and sighed. Leave it to Octavia to upstage her on the day of her

husband’s funeral.

Linda glanced in the rearview mirror at Jarrod and Maggie, who seemed transfixed by the adult tantrum

in the front seat.

“Is Aunt Tavey upset about Daddy?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide.

“No,” Jarrod said with a snort. “She’s upset because her husband left her.”

“Left her where?”

“With us,” Jarrod said miserably.

Anger sparked in Linda’s stomach that her children were being exposed to such a spectacle when they

should be grieving for their father, but she allowed that for now it gave them all a welcome distraction. She

suspected the situation wasn’t as dire as Octavia portrayed it to be. Their accounts were most likely

overdrawn due to Octavia’s unbridled spending. Richard would probably come back for her when he had a

chance to cool off.

Hopefully.

She tried not to think about the pickle the bounced check had left her in...she told herself she was no

worse off financially than before Octavia had given her that money. And right now the canyon in her heart

took priority. It was incomprehensible that she’d just sat through Sullivan’s funeral...that he was never

coming home.

That the world kept turning.

When she pulled into her driveway, the street was lined with parked cars full of people, waiting for

them to arrive. Nan Boyd and others stood on the stoop holding Pyrex covered casserole dishes and

Rubbermaid cake totes.

Octavia roused herself to snap, “Who are all these people?”

“Friends and neighbors,” Linda said. “Armed with food and good intentions.”

Octavia sniffed. “If they were your friends, they’d leave you the hell alone.”

“They’re only being nice,” Linda chided. “It’s expected that I let them in.”

But she understood how Octavia felt. All those forlorn faces staring at her and tromping through her

house, whispering about what might become of the young widow and her two children. She should

eavesdrop, though, just to see if anyone had any insight.

She fumbled for the garage door opener and watched as the door rolled up to reveal more of their piled

up clutter to their neighbors. But she was past the point of caring. She eased the van into the vacant spot

that was barely big enough to hold the vehicle, then turned off the engine and hit the button to lower the

door. She and the kids shimmied out and she was halfway to the door leading into the house before she

realized Octavia wasn’t with them.

“I’m staying here,” Octavia said, laying her head back.

Linda saw the wisdom in her sister skipping the forlorn pleasantries and didn’t try to change her mind.

Octavia undoubtedly wanted privacy to take Richard’s phone call when he eventually broke down and

reached out to her. With any luck, all would be resolved by the time the last plate of macaroni salad had

been consumed.

For her part, Linda pasted on a smile and opened her door to the flood of well-wishers, telling herself

the gathering would at least postpone the inevitable loneliness that waited behind her bedroom door. She

spent the next few hours floating from person to person, shaking sweaty hands and accepting stiff hugs and

murmuring the same banal comments over and over.

Yes, Sullivan is in a better place. Yes, life is short. Yes, we’ll be fine
.

Bullshit, all of it, she thought while downing her third — or was it her fourth? — cup of bad coffee.

Sullivan was not in a better place — he was across town lying in a cold grave in a hilly section of a

rundown cemetery. And life was short only for some; the people who ran roughshod over others — her

parents, for example — seemed to endure. And she was almost positive she and the kids were not going to

be anywhere close to fine.

“What can I do?” came a familiar voice behind her.

She turned to see Oakley Hall, still in his dress uniform from the funeral, which she knew he’d worn

out of respect for Sullivan, even though her husband was no longer on the force. His eyes were pained and

pleading for her to give him a task.

Her heart surged with affection, then she glanced around at the hangers-on who seemed to have no

intention of leaving, even as dusk fell. “Can you clear a room?”

He smiled and nodded. “Why don’t you disappear with the kids, and I’ll herd everyone out and lock up

when I leave?”

She reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

His words hovered around her like a security blanket. Accepting Oakley’s help would be so easy. If any

man could step into Sullivan’s place, it would be Detective Oakley Hall, who would sacrifice himself to

take care of his fallen friend’s family. But no man
could
step into Sullivan’s place — she owed her husband

that much.

“I’m going to lie low for a while,” she said. “I’ll call you when I come up for air.”

His mouth tightened, but he relented.

She turned and went in search of the children. Maggie was under a table with Max, tying bows in his ear

fur. Jarrod was sitting on the couch holding his UK basketball and watching a sports show, ignoring all the

commotion around him. Both children looked lost, and for a split second, Linda was furious with Sullivan

for not taking better care of himself, for leaving his children fatherless. They didn’t know yet what they had

lost, but she did.

She clasped Maggie’s hand and beckoned to Jarrod, then led them both to Jarrod’s bedroom. Max

trotted behind them, his head hanging low. Linda sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Maggie onto her lap.

Jarrod refused to sit, began bouncing the ball on the floor.

Linda gritted her teeth against the unnerving noise that did little to help the headache hammering at her

temples. “Uncle Oakley is going to say goodbye to everyone for us, so we can get ready for bed.”

Thump, thump, thump
went the ball. “He’s not our uncle,” Jarrod blurted.

He was already suspicious of a man trying to take this father’s place — fair enough. “You’re right,”

Linda conceded, “but he was like a brother to your father.”

“I want to sleep with you, Mommy,” Maggie said, snuggling closer.

“You’re not a baby,” Jarrod said, bouncing the ball harder.

“We can make an exception for tonight,” Linda said, although she recognized it was as much for her as

for Maggie. She wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in her and Sullivan’s bed alone.

Thump, thump, thump
. “Then I’m going to sleep in the van,” Jarrod announced.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Linda said.

“Why not?” he shot back.

“Because Aunt Tavey’s going to sleep in the van,” Maggie said.

“No one is sleeping in the van,” Linda said firmly. Then she looked at Jarrod. “I want you here, in your

room, in case Maggie or I need you.”

Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump
. “Okay,” he agreed. Then he set down the ball.

A small victory, but she would take it.

“Are we going back to school tomorrow?” Maggie asked.

“I think that’s a good idea if you want to.” Linda extended her glance to Jarrod. “Or you can wait until

Monday and see how you feel.”

“Stacy Keller’s mom is supposed to bring cupcakes for her birthday,” Maggie said, clearly not wanting

to miss out on the sugary fun.

“There’s a ball game tomorrow between the fifth and sixth grade boys,” Jarrod mumbled. “Coach said

he might put me in.”

It was a good sign that both kids wanted to get back to a normal routine — wasn’t it? “Then I think you

both should absolutely go to school tomorrow.”

Maggie clapped her hands, and Jarrod looked somewhat relieved.