Two Guys Detective Agency (humorous mystery series--book 1) Read online

  She wet her lips. “Oakley is keeping an eye on us. He misses you.” Her neck warmed and she squirmed—it was as if she could feel Sullivan’s disapproval from beyond.

  “And in case it matters,” she whispered, “I miss you, too.” At a loss, she dropped the mum onto his grave and turned to walk away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  LINDA TURNED HER head to study Octavia’s profile. “You were quiet all weekend. Is everything okay?”

  Octavia didn’t move, just kept staring blindly ahead out the windshield of the van. “You mean other than the fact that my husband has disappeared and I don’t know what I’m going to do?”

  “Ditto,” Linda said softly.

  Octavia looked over and shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry...I realize you’re struggling, too.”

  “You know you can stay with us as long as you want to.”

  “I appreciate that, but you have your life, and I really need to get back to mine. Which reminds me—can I borrow the van Wednesday after we finish the vending machine route? I need to make a trip back to Louisville to pick up a few things.”

  “Sure.” Linda bit her lower lip. She hadn’t really expected Octavia to enjoy living in her cramped household, sharing her small life. And of course she was pining for her husband and the lavish lifestyle she’d had in Louisville, but...Linda was sort of getting used to having her sister around again, and it was...nice.

  Octavia picked up the Pleasant Ridge Retirement Home file from her lap, suddenly all business. “Okay, how are we going to do this?”

  “Well, the owner doesn’t want everyone in the home to panic about the outbreak, so while we don’t have to go in undercover, we’re supposed to handle our inquiries with discretion.” She gave Octavia a pointed look. “And without stripping down to our skivvies.”

  “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? Wendt folded like a greeting card.”

  “But what if he hadn’t?”

  “I figured we had nothing to lose—if it worked, great. If it didn’t, then the insurance company was going to have to pay him anyway.”

  “What if he’d had a bad back and you’d hurt him worse?”

  “But he didn’t...and I didn’t.”

  “We could’ve lost a big customer.”

  Octavia frowned. “The insurance company? What does it matter? You’re closing the agency.”

  “Right,” she murmured. “You’re right, of course.”

  “And we’re collecting a big, fat payment. You’re welcome, by the damn way.”

  “No, I do appreciate it. God knows we can use the money.”

  “Can’t we all.”

  She’d promised Octavia half of the payment, although Klo said it would take a few weeks to arrive.

  By that time, Octavia would probably be back in Louisville.

  “We have the names of three residents who came forward to be treated,” Linda said. “They’ve agreed to talk to us, but we’ll probably have to conduct a lot of other interviews. So how are we supposed to strike up a discreet conversation with a group of elderly people about their sex lives without arousing suspicion?”

  “We could tell the residents we’re senior matchmakers.”

  Linda pursed her mouth. “Not bad...I think we can make that work.”

  They agreed on the pieces of information they would need from each resident they spoke to, but Octavia remained detached. Linda pulled into the parking lot of the retirement home and edged the van into an empty spot. She wished she knew what was bothering her sister, although she acknowledged Octavia had plenty on her plate to worry about. Still, she preferred sarcasm over this quiet sullenness.

  As they walked through the lobby, clusters of elderly people passed them, all at different stages of activity, but most of them spry. The majority were women who obviously enjoyed dressing up and looking their best. Lots of waves and smiles came their way.

  “Looks like a friendly place.”

  “We have medical proof of that,” Octavia said dryly. “Ugh, I positively refuse to get old.”

  Linda had to agree that getting old didn’t have the same appeal as when she’d assumed she and Sullivan would age together. “If anyone can fend off Mother Nature, I’m sure you can.”

  They walked up to a reception area that resembled a hotel reservations desk.

  “May I help you?” a young man asked.

  Octavia dazzled the handsome clerk with a smile. “Linda and Octavia Guy—we should be on the visitor list.”

  Linda shot her a surprised glance. Octavia had given Klo their maiden name to use?

  “Here you are,” the man agreed. “It says you’re guests of the owner.”

  “That’s right. We’re here to take a tour of the place.”

  “Oh, good. Are you looking for housing for a parent?”

  “Yes—our mother.”

  Linda managed to conceal her shock—Octavia never mentioned their mother. Never.

  “Is your mother with you?”

  “No—she’s out of town.”

  Linda held her breath—that much was true. Where, however, was anyone’s guess.

  “Okay. Let me call our director—she’ll want to escort you around.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tyson Gilly, ma’am.”

  “Save the ma’am for your mother, Tyson. I’m just Octavia.”

  His face turned bright red. “Yes, ma’am—er...Octavia.”

  “Tyson, we’re kind of in a hurry, and we really don’t want to bother the director. So we’re going to take one of these nifty maps and walk around, ask the residents a few questions, and be gone before you know it. Okay?”

  “I guess that would be okay...Octavia.”

  Linda wiped away a smile with her hand. When Octavia wanted to, she could charm a male zebra out of his stripes.

  Octavia winked at him. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

  He straightened. “I’m counting on it.”

  Another heart bites the dust, Linda thought wryly.

  As they walked away, Octavia handed her a map. “I got one for you, too. I figure we can cover twice as much ground if we split up. I’ll take the east wing and the activity center, you take the west wing and the dining room. Let’s find out who these horny old gals have been sleeping with and meet back here in forty-five minutes. Ready?”

  Linda blinked. Her sister had obviously missed her calling. “Okay.”

  *****

  Octavia bit into a chicken finger and studied the UK dry erase board where Linda had diagramed all of their conversations from the retirement home with a decision tree.

  Her sister had obviously missed her calling.

  “I’ve color coded red all the residents who came forward to say they had the STD.”

  “What’s an STD?” Jarrod asked. They were all sitting around the kitchen table, having dinner.

  Linda looked to Octavia for help.

  “It stands for sexually transmitted disease,” Octavia said. “You get it from having sex with people you’re not married to. So don’t have sex until you get married, and when you do get married, don’t have sex with anyone except your loyal, faithful, long-suffering, beautiful wife.”

  Jarrod looked sufficiently alarmed.

  Linda gave her a withering look.

  “What?” Octavia demanded. “The kid’s got to know this stuff sometime.”

  “He’s nine. We’ll talk about it later,” Linda promised Jarrod. “As I was saying, I’ve color-coded all the residents we talked to and drew lines to people they, um—visited, in loose chronological order, starting in January.”

  Octavia squinted. “Impressive...but the individual trees don’t touch.”

  “Right.” Above the four trees, Linda drew a question mark. “Which means there’s someone up here who visited this woman.” She drew a line from the question mark to the name at the top of the first tree. “And this woman.” She continued drawing lines. “And this woman...and this man.”

  Octavi
a’s eyebrows went up. “The person we’re looking for is bisexual?”

  “What’s that?” Jarrod asked.

  Octavia opened her mouth, but Linda cut in. “Don’t even.”

  She looked at her nephew. “When you’re ready for your sex talk, come to me.”

  “Will you still be here?” he asked, dragging a crinkle fry through ketchup before consuming it in one bite.

  Her mistake—the offer had simply popped out. Of course she wouldn’t be there when he needed his sex talk, a good year away. “I’ll be only a phone call away.” She looked back to the diagram. “So we’re looking for someone, probably a man, who fu—” She caught herself. “—visited Diane F., Barbara A., Anita W., and John C. prior to January.”

  “Right. But we don’t have any other names...you would think at least one of them would’ve mentioned someone that we’d be able to connect to someone else.”

  Octavia chewed, her mind churning. “Unless it’s a relationship they’re each trying to keep secret.”

  Linda nodded. “Someone they wouldn’t have talked about as dating material when we questioned them in the context of the matchmaking service.”

  “Yet someone they all knew.”

  “A doctor?”

  “Or an employee,” Octavia said. The women looked at each other.

  “Tyson,” they said in unison.

  Octavia laughed. “The little tramp. He’s got a thing for geriatrics.”

  “Well, it fits...but we don’t know for sure. I’d hate to submit his name to the owner and it not be correct.”

  Octavia pulled up a browser on her phone. “Let me check a couple of things.” She punched in a search string, isolating social media sites. “Bingo. Tyson Gilly posted that he began his new job at Pleasure Ridge Retirement Home in December.”

  Linda grinned. “You did it.”

  Octavia grinned back. “We did it. Again.”

  “I think this calls for a little celebration—milk and cookies all around!”

  The kids cheered and Linda climbed up to remove a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the treat stash, then poured four tall glasses of milk.

  Jarrod pulled out a sleeve of cookies and walked around the table, passing out two for each of them. She marveled at the restraint the children showed—at their age, she would’ve eaten the entire package.

  They dunked and ate their cookies together and although Octavia had eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the world, she honestly couldn’t remember a better meal. It was...nice.

  “This is good, Mommy,” Maggie said. “But not as good at Aunt Tavey’s pancakes.”

  Linda raised an eyebrow. “When did Aunt Tavey make you pancakes?”

  “After the bad man grabbed her and Jarrod and me saved her life.”

  Octavia closed her eyes. When she opened them, Linda was looking at her.

  “What?”

  “We promised not to tell,” Jarrod muttered to Maggie.

  Linda looked from face to face, then back to her. “What are they talking about?”

  She drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Saturday morning I was out in the yard and a car drove up. A man got out and asked me if I know where Richard is.”

  “He grabbed Aunt Tavey by the arm,” Jarrod said.

  “But Jarrod threw a ball and hit him right in the face!” Maggie supplied, with a punch to the air.

  “And Max tried to bite his leg,” Jarrod said.

  “And I threw glitter all over him,” Maggie said, grinning.

  Linda, however, was not grinning. “Kids, why don’t you take your cookies to your room and get started on your homework.”

  “I don’t have any homework,” Maggie said. “I’m in the first grade.”

  “Then go play. I need to talk to Aunt Tavey.”

  When the children had left the room, Linda nailed her with a glare. “What the hell happened?”

  She held up her hands. “I told you—a strange man came up to me and demanded to know where Richard is. I told him I didn’t know. Then the munchkin brigade attacked and he left.” She smiled a little smile. “That guy is never going to get rid of all that glitter. It will have to grow off.”

  Linda was not amused. “Did he hurt you? Did he—” She choked back a sob. “Did he touch the kids?”

  “No. He grabbed my arm, but he let me go. He didn’t touch the kids, and he didn’t come into the house.”

  “And you didn’t think this was something I should know?”

  “I wanted to spare you the worry.”

  “This is my house, Octavia—I make those decisions.” Her green eyes glistened with angry tears.

  She nodded, feeling contrite. “You’re right...I should’ve told you.”

  Linda pushed to her feet and reached for the phone, her body language jerky.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What you should’ve done—I’m calling the police.”

  Which wasn’t the full truth, Octavia realized when fifteen minutes later, Detective Oakley Hall arrived and grilled her like a piece of rare meat.

  “I’ve never seen the man before, and I didn’t recognize the car.” She described the guy and the sedan as best as she could remember, and recited the partial Jefferson County license plate number. He took notes studiously, but his gaze kept straying to Linda, who hugged her arms to her waist and looked paler every passing minute.

  “He didn’t tell you how he knew your husband?”

  “No.”

  “Or why he wanted to find him?”

  “No.”

  “And do you know where your husband is?”

  “No.”

  He closed the notebook. “I’ll have the partial plate run to see if I get a hit. Otherwise, call me if you see the car or the guy in the neighborhood.” He gave Octavia his card, then turned to Linda. “Can I have a word?”

  She nodded, then walked him to the door. Their voices were low, but Octavia could hear the concern in his voice, then lots of silence, which she assumed was moody eye contact.

  The man was crushing on Linda, even if she didn’t want to see it. But her sister was so noble, she’d probably never act on any feelings between them. Linda was the queen of self-sacrifice.

  When Linda came back, Octavia waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “How dare you?” Linda was shaking. “How dare you put my children in danger, and not tell me? And worse—make them promise not to tell me?”

  “They didn’t get hurt, sis.”

  “But they could’ve! You always miss the point, Susan—always!”

  Octavia gritted her teeth. “Don’t call me that name.”

  “Why not? It was your name for thirteen years. You can’t just change who you are because you change your name!”

  She lifted her chin. “Yes, you can.”

  Linda’s laugh was harsh. “You’re still the same selfish person you always were. But I’m not going to let you put my family in danger.”

  Octavia felt as if she’d been slapped. “Get off your high horse, Linda—you’re not mother of the year. Your son hasn’t even cried since his father died, for God’s sake. And look at this disaster of a house! You’re no better mother than our mother was.”

  As soon as the words were out, she knew she’d gone too far.

  Linda’s face blanched, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I don’t know why I said that,” Octavia said quietly, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it.” She pulled her hand down her face. “I’ll leave if you want me to.” Inside, though, she was terrified. If Linda said yes, where would she go?

  Linda stared at her with big, hollow eyes, and suddenly looked so weary. Finally she heaved a long, shuddering breath. “Go to bed, Octavia.”

  Then she turned around and shuffled toward the bedroom.

  Octavia wanted to run after her, but anger kept her rooted to the spot. Anger at their runaway mother, their criminal father, Linda’s irresponsible husband, and Richard on the lam. It wa
s as if the universe had conspired against her and Linda their entire lives to keep them from having a normal sister to sister relationship.

  And it didn’t look to be improving any time soon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  LINDA LIFTER HER arms overhead and yawned, stretching as high as she could in the driver’s seat of the van. Across the road, thirty-five-year-old Marianne Reynolds had spent most of the past two hours dozing in her backyard on a lawn chair—not exactly the kind of activity that violated her worker’s compensation claim that her neck had been fractured and suffered irreparable damage in a worksite fall. In fact, her neck brace seemed to be holding her head at just the right height so she could sleep without her head lolling about and waking her needlessly.

  Linda fought another yawn and turned up the radio to help her focus. She glanced over to the empty passenger seat and conceded that a stakeout wasn’t as interesting without Octavia along as a sidekick.

  Last night’s incident came back to her and she groaned in frustration. Sisters knew how to hurt each other, and she and Octavia were better at it than most. Octavia was wrong not to tell her about the stranger coming to her house, but she knew Octavia wouldn’t knowingly jeopardize the children.

  And in the light of day, she had to admit her sister had hit on some valid points about Linda’s parenting skills. She hadn’t said anything that Linda herself hadn’t thought many times.

  She wondered how Octavia was making out in the convenience store today. Her assignment was to spend the day doing janitorial work around the store while keeping an eye on the employees who stocked inventory and ran the cash registers to see if any of them stole.

  Linda smiled at the thought of Octavia wielding a mop—her sister simply wasn’t cut out for manual labor. So she knew what a personal sacrifice it was for her to try to close out this case for Sullivan’s agency. Octavia had never been a fan of Sullivan’s—and vice versa—so she was doing this mostly for her.