Tracy Hayes, Apprentice P.I. (P.I. Tracy Hayes 1) Page 6

  She was thirty-three and looked every bit as amazing as when she’d put herself through med-school by modeling. She had Dad’s height and looks, which were as good on a woman as they were on a man, especially with the short pixie cut she favored. I’d always felt like an ugly duckling next to her, and dying my hair auburn only emphasized our differences.

  “I could definitely ask the same.”

  “I asked first.” She might have the supermodel looks, but she’d always had the no-nonsense attitude of a doctor, even when we were kids. She expected to be answered. I wanted to sulk. This was not how my plan was supposed to go.

  “I was walking the dog and ran out of poop bags,” I said, lifting Pippin towards her just as Mrs. Jenkins came from the kitchen with a plastic bag in her hand. She paused when she saw us.

  “What’s going on?”

  “My parents sent my little sister to spy on us.”

  “They did no such thing. They have absolutely no idea.” I’d had no idea Tessa was into women, and our parents wouldn’t even be able to imagine it.

  “What’s with the dog ruse, then?”

  “It’s not a ruse,” I said, indignant.

  “You don’t own a dog.”

  “He’s not my dog. I found him and I’m taking care of him until I find the owner.”

  “It’s Richard, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jenkins said, leaning heavily against the hallway wall. “He’s found out about us.”

  Guilt stabbed in my gut that I couldn’t keep from my face, and Tessa was onto me instantly. “Out with it!” She looked angry—and a little frightened too. I couldn’t remember ever seeing my sister frightened.

  My heart fell. This was supposed to be an easy gig. All I had to do was to get the evidence of Mrs. Jenkins’ infidelity. I didn’t have to care for the whys and whos of it. But this was my sister. I couldn’t sell her out and perhaps ruin her chance for happiness in the process.

  I’d have to tell everything to Tessa and take my chances with Jackson later. I’d lose my job before I’d even properly begun. That had to be a new record.

  I sighed. “I work for a private detective. Mr. Jenkins hired us to find out if his wife was having affairs while he was out of town.”

  “Affairs? Plural?” Mrs. Jenkins was outraged.

  “Work for a P.I.? Since when?” Tessa demanded, claiming my attention.

  “Since yesterday. Probably not after this.”

  “Serves you right for skulking in the bushes.”

  “I wasn’t skulking.”

  “What are you going to tell him?” Mrs. Jenkins asked what worried her more. I could sympathize, but not much. I was a jilted woman myself.

  “Can’t you tell your husband? It has to be better than finding out from a P.I.”

  “Can’t you just keep quiet?” Tessa retorted.

  “That’s okay,” Mrs. Jenkins sighed. I really should ask her first name, but this didn’t seem like a good time to inquire. “I can’t go on like this any longer.”

  “Are you sure?” Tessa asked, wrapping an arm around Mrs. Jenkins’ shoulders. She sounded more solicitous that I’d ever heard before. She usually had the curt manners of a surgeon.

  “Yes. I just wish I could hurt him the way he hurt me.”

  I didn’t know the details of that, but I knew one thing: “Nothing hurts like seeing the evidence of your spouse’s infidelity with your own eyes.”

  “But if he has evidence that I’ve been unfaithful, he’ll get everything.”

  “What do you need from him that I can’t give you?” Tessa asked her. They exchanged a long, intimate look that made me uncomfortable, as if I were trespassing on a private moment. Then Mrs. Jenkins nodded.

  “Let’s do it,” she said resolutely.

  Tessa smiled and kissed her. Then she turned to me. “Do you have a camera?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go outside and take a photo of the two of us on the couch,” she ordered me.

  “I’m not allowed to take photos through windows without the consent of the people being photographed,” I said primly.

  Tessa rolled her eyes. “We’re giving you our consent, aren’t we?” I turned to Mrs. Jenkins, who hesitated but then nodded.

  “I’m Tracy Hayes, by the way.” I offered her my hand and she shook it with a startled smile.

  “Angela Jenkins. I’m not usually this irresolute. It’s just that finding out Richard knows shook me a little.”

  When I got to the porch, Tessa and Angela were already on the couch, busily making out. I tried to ignore that it was my sister there, kissing a woman, and just fired the camera away. They’d placed themselves so that Angela’s face was in clear view, whereas you couldn’t recognize Tessa. But Tessa’s boob was coming out of her negligee, so you had no doubt it was another woman there.

  Poor Mr. Jenkins would get the shock of his lifetime.

  I returned indoors to fetch Pippin I’d left in the hallway, and had to clear my throat a couple of times to get their attention. “I’m going now.”

  Tessa sent me away with a wave of her hand. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” she shouted just before the door closed behind us.

  As we reached the sidewalk, Pippin stopped to do his business by the bush, forcing me to use the plastic bag I’d taken from Angela after all. I felt curiously vindicated.

  A bag of poop in one hand, leash in the other, I returned to my parents’, humming a tune as I went. Not bad for the first assignment.

  Trevor pulled over just as I was about to enter the house.

  “Long day,” I said to him when he reached the porch.

  “You too, I see.” He leaned over to scratch Pippin’s ears. “I’m allergic to dogs, you know.”

  “I know. Travis reminded me today.”

  “He was here?”

  “Was he ever.”

  He winced in sympathy. We made our way to the kitchen to have leftovers for supper—with Pippin. Trevor wasn’t a fuss.

  “I thought I made it clear to Dad that Jackson’s a good guy.”

  “Travis remembered him from their childhood.”

  “Headed to the juvie?” he asked as he put the food into the microwave.

  “According to Jackson himself, yes.” I gave Pippin some water and then set the table.

  “He turned himself around though.”

  “That’s what I told Travis.”

  He nodded and we sat down to eat by the kitchen table. “And how did your stakeout go?”

  “Really well.” I couldn’t help the smile spreading on my face.

  “Okay, out with it. Was Mrs. Jenkins having an affair?”

  “She was indeed.”

  “Did you get pictures?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” I meant it literally.

  “Can I see them?”

  I wasn’t about to deny my brother the pleasure of seeing his big sister make out with a woman. “Absolutely.” I fished the camera out of my bag and showed him the photos.

  “That’s … a woman.” He sounded both stunned and appalled.

  “Like it’s the worst you’ve seen in your life,” I said, snorting.

  “No, I mean I didn’t expect this.”

  “That’s not even the best part.” I couldn’t keep my mirth in. “Do you recognize the other woman?”

  “Is she supposed to be one of my exes?” He studied the pictures more closely on the tiny camera screen. “I’m sure I’d recognize a breast that fine if I’d had the pleasure. So who is she?”

  I’d only promised not to tell Mom and Dad. I glanced around to see they weren’t in earshot. “Tessa.”

  He pulled back so fast he hit his head on the kitchen window. “The fuck she is. Isn’t she with that guy, what’s his name, Paul?”

  “Not anymore I’d say. And good riddance.” I’d never liked the sleazy bastard.

  “You’re sure it’s her? How can you tell from that?”

  I told him the whole story. By the time I finished, he was bellowing in la
ughter. “Only you could botch a simple surveillance job.”

  “I didn’t botch it. I got the evidence, didn’t I.” But he just kept laughing.

  “Poor Jackson doesn’t know what he bargained for with you.”

  “Bah.” I crossed my arms, sulking.

  Trevor gave Pippin and me a lift home and I asked him to let us out outside a convenience store a little down the street from my building. “I need to buy dog food.”

  It wasn’t terribly late and I didn’t expect trouble, so I sent Trevor away when he would’ve waited. But when I exited the store, I got a funny feeling that I was being watched.

  I looked surreptitiously around as I let Pippin sniff the fire hydrant for interesting smells. I didn’t see anything or anyone, but I hurried the dog in, feeling safe only after I’d locked my door and put the safety chain on. And when Pippin woke me up in the middle of the night, indicating he wanted to go out, I ignored him and continued to sleep. I would not go back out, not even for a dog.

  I paid for it in the morning, when the first thing I stepped on when I got out of bed was a puddle of dog wee.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the light of day my previous night’s fears seemed silly. No one was watching me and no one followed us when Pippin and I headed to the subway. I had plenty of chances to check, because Pippin wanted to leave his mark on every bush between my home and the station.

  Or maybe he was protesting of his treatment the previous night. He certainly gave that impression when he saw Cheryl at the office, rushing to her like she was his savior.

  Really. Miss one walk and that’s what I get?

  I was anxious though, when I settled on the couch in Jackson’s office with a large mug of coffee. This was the moment of truth.

  “How did it go yesterday?” Jackson started without preambles.

  “I got the evidence, but I’m not sure you’ll like what happened,” I said.

  “And what happened?” He directed his best cop gaze at me and I confessed everything like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. He blinked when I finished. Then he started laughing.

  “That’s so incredible no one will believe it.”

  That didn’t help my anxiety. “As long as Mr. Jenkins will.”

  “Let’s see the photos, then.” He uploaded them to his computer and opened the first one. His eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  “These are really good photos.” He leaned closer and I was pretty sure he was checking Tessa’s assets and not the photographic quality. I tried not to feel miffed.

  “These should convince Mr. Jenkins.” He shook his head ruefully. “I used to have such a crush on Tessa at school, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Knowing she’s into women makes it sting a little less.”

  I didn’t know if Tessa had been gay already at school—she’d definitely been well closeted if she had—but I nodded.

  “So I did good?”

  He smiled. “You did good.” I smiled back, relieved.

  We worked in the office the whole morning. Jackson had paperwork to do and I had to study, but he had time to show me some secrets of the trade too. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. Since Pippin needed his walk, Cheryl headed out to fetch us something to eat. I could’ve used a walk too—I wasn’t accustomed to sitting down all day—but I didn’t protest. The novelty of non-achy feet hadn’t worn off yet.

  The door to the reception area was open, so when two men walked in soon after Cheryl had left, we saw them immediately. The first of them was in his early fifties. He was wearing a light gray summer suit and a pink silk shirt, and had lifted his shades over sleekly combed black hair. He looked perfectly normal and respectable, but I was instantly on guard. Maybe it was the way he cased the reception room before proceeding to Jackson’s office and giving the doorframe a polite knock. Maybe it was my waitress’s intuition that allowed me to spot the customers most likely to cause trouble with their order.

  Maybe it was the huge man who followed him in. The same man who had shown interest in Pippin the previous evening, still tall and muscled in his fine suit. Still intimidating.

  I froze on my seat.

  “Jackson Dean?” the first man asked. My boss got up to shake his hand. “Craig Douglas.”

  The other man wasn’t introduced and he remained standing by the door like a bodyguard. I kept glancing at him, but he didn’t indicate in any way that we had already met, his face calm and impassive—and somehow more threatening for it. I guess that was his purpose.

  Jackson showed Mr. Douglas to the guest chair, taking a seat behind his desk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I saw your poster. The one for a dog you’ve found. I believe he’s mine.”

  The presence of the big man had made me anticipate it, but I was still disappointed. I couldn’t believe Pippin would belong to him. He was such a happy dog, whereas Mr. Douglas—and definitely his goon—looked like he belonged to the mafia. I didn’t trust him, and I was instantly sure he was lying.

  Not so Jackson. “Excellent.”

  My heart sank. He wasn’t going to give Pippin to these guys, was he? I wanted to protest, but kept my mouth shut.

  “If I could get the description so we’ll know it’s the right dog. And then there’s the matter of a finder’s fee, of course.”

  “I’m willing to pay five hundred dollars if he’s my dog,” Mr. Douglas said. He sounded sincere, but I almost huffed in disbelief. No one paid that much for a missing dog. He pulled an expensive cell phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket, and flicked through the photos for the one he wanted.

  “Is this the dog?” He handed the phone over the desk to Jackson, who took a look at the photo and frowned.

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t find him myself. We’re helping a client. What do you think, Tracy?”

  I could breathe more easily. Jackson knew perfectly well what Pippin looked like. And there was no client, which had to mean that he didn’t trust the men either.

  I went to take a look too, my legs shaking only a little. To my disappointment, the photo was definitely of Pippin. He was posing perfectly like yesterday. I tried to control my expression, but my face simply wouldn’t cooperate.

  Mr. Douglas leaned towards us, eager. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “I’d say so, yes,” I said carefully. “What’s his name?”

  Was it my imagination or did the man hesitate a heartbeat?

  “Buster.”

  I lifted my brows in surprise. “That’s a mouthful for such a small dog.”

  “My son named him.”

  It was a perfectly good explanation—and one that I didn’t buy for a second, and not least because the goon had talked about his boss’s daughter’s dog. But I’d got my face back in control. I gave him my best smile I used when I was lying to customers, like, ‘Yes, that fish was caught today’. It had been a particularly trying restaurant to work for.

  “Well, I’m happy to tell you that we’ve found your Buster.”

  Mr. Douglas smiled, relieved. “Wonderful. When can I get him?”

  “Tomorrow.” This time I didn’t even blink when I told the lie. “We placed him into foster care, and we can have them bring him here in the morning. Say ten o’clock?”

  Mr. Douglas’s good mood vanished. “I’m not sure that suits me at all. Maybe you could give me the address. I’ll fetch him myself.”

  I sharpened my best smile, courtesy of years of handling difficult customers, and looked him straight in the eye. “Surely you understand that the people taking care of him have strict orders to give him only to us. They’re good people. You’ve nothing to worry about even if you wait one more day.”

  I prepared to argue, but Jackson got up, and to my relief Mr. Douglas did too, after only a short hesitation.

  “I’m happy we found the rightful owner,” Jackson said with a reassuring smile. “Buster will be glad to return to you in the morning.”

  He roun
ded the desk and calmly shook Mr. Douglas’s hand. Then he directed the men out. As the goon exited, he glanced back and winked at me. Winked! So he had recognized me after all.

  Jackson was grinning when he returned to his desk. “Buster my ass. This case just turned interesting.”

  “You’ve no idea. I saw the goon yesterday and he was interested in Pippin.”

  Jackson stilled. “How did he find you?”

  “Pure coincidence. His girlfriend lives across the street from the Jenkins’. But he may have followed me to my home.” I shivered, remembering the sensation of being watched the previous evening. “And maybe even here in the morning. Though I could swear no one was following me.” The big guy wasn’t exactly easy to miss, and neither was his car.

  Jackson looked grim. “He must have followed you. And then maybe came across the poster when he reached this neighborhood. But they’re willing to take the public route, so that’s good.”

  I didn’t want to think of what the private route might have been.

  “What do you think this is about?”

  “Nothing legal, that’s for sure. Mr. Douglas was a tad too eager. Maybe Pippin was stolen for ransom, and then Douglas lost him for some reason. Whatever it is, money has to be really good for him to go through this much trouble to get him back.”

  “Oh, poor Pippin. So how do we find the right owner?”

  “I’ll check the police reports. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. He could be stolen from anywhere. And I’ll definitely upload the photos of those two to a facial recognition program.”

  “You got their photos?”

  He patted a small camera perched on top of his computer monitor. “What do you think this is here for?” I hadn’t given it a thought, but now I realized it was facing the clients and not him, like it would if it were meant for video conferences.

  He picked up his phone and called Cheryl and told her not to return to the office and to keep Pippin safe. There was an excited gleam in his eyes when he finished.

  “There’s nothing more we can do until the facial recognition is finished. Let’s head out for lunch, since we won’t be having it delivered after all. And then we’ll go find Costa. I have a good feeling about it.”