Mint Juleps and Justice Page 7

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, Keith, my hopefully soon-to-be-ex, he’s in Virginia Beach. I’m here. I just wasn’t sure if it mattered.” Great. Now she was rambling. “I hope I’m not wasting your time. My brother thought I should’ve called someone a couple weeks ago. I’ve been having some problems and I think my soon-to-be-ex might be behind them.”

  Mike seemed to be sizing her up. “Have you called the police?”

  “Of course.” Did he think she was stupid? “They’ve been out to my house a few times. They think I’m a fruit loop. Well, not Sheriff Calvin. He’s nice, but that deputy of his definitely thinks I’m crazy.”

  “Well, you’re here now, so let me be the judge of that.”

  She wasn’t sure if him judging her was exactly where she wanted to start. “What do we do?” She followed his lead, taking a seat in a nailhead-trimmed leather chair in his office. She stroked the soft, worn leather, tracing it slowly with her fingertips.

  He grabbed a pen and wrote something on the pad in front of him. Even his hands looked strong. Butterflies, extra big ones, knocked around her stomach. Was it the situation, or was it Mike? Being around him should not have this effect on her. Her focus was on getting rid of a guy, not getting one.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he said without looking up.

  “I don’t even know where to begin. I…” Still avoiding his gaze, she leaned forward in the chair.

  “Relax.” He leaned back in his chair. “Just start from the beginning. Take your time.”

  She let out a slow breath. Here goes nothing. “I’m in the middle of an ugly divorce,” she explained. “It’s been a huge mess. At this point, he can have the material stuff. I just want out, but now he’s decided he won’t sign the papers.”

  He tilted his head. “Why won’t he sign the papers?”

  “He’s the one who originally filed the separation, but now he’s saying he wants to get back together.”

  “You said he lives in Virginia Beach. Right?”

  “Yes.

  Mike took notes. “What’s his name?”

  “Keith Farrell.” She paused to spell it for him. “He was originally from Pennsylvania. We met at a charity car show event a few years back. He was so different back then.” Or maybe she’d really just wanted him to be different back then.

  In hindsight, someone else had dragged Keith to that event. He really didn’t have a charitable bone in his body. He’d even been too selfish to support the kids who’d come knocking on the door to raise money for school athletics, and every time they’d gone to a fund-raiser he’d bellyached about the cost of the tickets versus what was in it for him. She’d learned to tread lightly around those discussions to avoid his rants.

  “Keith can be a little…unpredictable. You never really know which mood or attitude you’re going to get from him.”

  “What’s he do for a living?”

  “He’s a computer guy. He works for a government contractor out West, but he works from home. He can do his job from anywhere.”

  Mike nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  “The trouble all started when I was still living and working in Virginia Beach. I figured he had kept a house key or something. Plus I was so close, it was easy for him to come over and mess with my mind. Snip a phone wire, siphon my gas, and put goldfish in the hot tub we had…stupid stuff. Not dangerous. Just a hassle more than anything. I thought maybe it was sour grapes because I was living in our house. When the job opened up in Adams Grove, I put in for a transfer.”

  “But it’s still happening? The mischief, I mean. Even after you relocated?”

  Brooke ran a hand through her hair, dipping loose strands behind her ear. She looked up at him and their eyes caught for a moment too long. “Yes.” She swallowed. What color crayon would those blue eyes be? “At first it seemed so crazy I didn’t tell anyone. But then stuff kept happening and I called the police. Keith’s been in my house in Adams Grove. I can’t prove it, but I know it. Things have been moved or shuffled around. Potted plants toppled. I smell his aftershave. That kind of thing.”

  “Things moved? Do you lock your doors and windows?”

  “Yes. I’ve even had the locks changed and upgraded, but it hasn’t helped. I’m no domestic goddess, but everything has a place. I started getting freaked out, so I started a list to be sure it wasn’t in my head and to see if there was a pattern.”

  “Did you?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Did I what?”

  “See a pattern?” Mike asked.

  “Oh, no. It’s just a really long list.”

  “And that’s why you’re here. Can I see the list?”

  “Sure.” She dug the notebook out of her purse. “It was all little stuff…until yesterday. Yesterday he went too far. If I hadn’t gotten home when I did…my dog would…” Her gestures showed her frustration, and her hands slapped her thighs as she let them drop to her lap.

  Mike leaned back, elbows on the arm of the chair. “Your dog?”

  “She’s fine, thank god. You have a dog. You know. They’re like family.”

  He nodded.

  “If anything had happened to Stitches…”

  “Stitches is the dog?”

  “Yes. She was a stray. She had stitches across one of her legs when I found her, so I named her Stitches. I notified all the local vet clinics, but no one ever claimed her. Who loses a dog that just had surgery?” she rambled. “Anyway, that isn’t important, is it? When I got home from work yesterday, Stitches was outside in my hot tub treading water.” She pushed back the tears that threatened to spill.

  “Could it have been an accident?”

  “No. She was in the house when I left that morning. I’ve gone over it in my head a hundred times. I have no idea how long she’d been out there. She could’ve drowned. That’s when I called Connor and got your name.”

  “And this happened in the house here in Adams Grove?”

  She nodded, biting back tears. Still the thought of something happening to Stitches scared her. “Yes. Just last night. I haven’t lived here that long, but I’ve called the police practically every week over things. Adams Grove is not turning out to be the safe place I’d hoped it would be.”

  “Well, let’s fix that.” He raised a brow. “How do you think he got into your house?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea. No sign of forced entry. Again.” She shrugged. “I confronted Keith last night about this. He swore it wasn’t him, but I don’t believe him. He’s recently become obsessed with us getting back together.”

  Mike jotted a couple of notes on the pad in front of him.

  “You’re frowning. What? You think I’m crazy, too, don’t you?” Great. It would be a little hard to be able to do her job advising on the pasture and grazing plan if he thought she was a nut job. This was a huge mistake. She should’ve found someone else.

  “No. That’s not it at all.”

  Brooke peered across the desk, trying to see his notes. “You look all serious over there. Do you think it’s not…not so serious?”

  “Maybe.” It was a statement, not a question. “No children?”

  “No.” She answered without hesitation.

  “Okay.” Mike took note.

  “That didn’t sound right. I love other people’s kids. I just don’t think I’d be a good mom. I never ramble like this, or maybe I do, but not this badly. Even I think I sound like a crazy idiot today. I’m sorry.”

  Mike didn’t even look up. “Any chance of reconciliation?”

  “What?” She nearly shouted it.

  “I had to ask.” He tapped his pen against the pad on his desk and shrugged.

  “Not a chance,” she answered firmly, crossing her legs.

  Mike set down his pen and focused on her. “People can pull some crazy stunts when they
feel they’re running out of options. Keith Farrell might fall into that category. Give me a week. If nothing else, we might figure out how he’s getting into your house. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I don’t know, listening to what I just told you, I feel like a neurotic worrywart. I’m probably wasting my time, not to mention yours.” Her mouth pulled into a tight line and she felt the color rise in her cheeks.

  “One week and if there’s nothing there, it’s on me.”

  “I can hardly pass that up, can I?” She shifted in the chair. “I sure hope I’m not blowing this out of proportion.”

  “Brooke, if more people followed their gut feelings there’d be a whole lot fewer problems in this world. Besides that, estrangement homicide is on the rise. It isn’t something to play off lightly.”

  “Homicide, like murder?” She grasped the arms of the chair.

  “Basically. It’s a homicide that is driven by the feeling of a loss of control. You see it in couples, sometimes parent-child relationships too. This could fit that escalation profile.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?” Brooke folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t like being in the damsel-in-distress role. She could take care of herself…usually.

  “It may be nothing at all. I just don’t want you to take this lightly.” He came around the heavy wooden desk and balanced a hip on the edge, crossing one long leg over the other. “One week. We can decide after that. At the very least, you should get some peace of mind.” He leaned back against the desk. “It’s your call.”

  She stared out the window like she was expecting to see an answer pop up on a cue card. “Cardinal, good luck,” she said just above a whisper as she spotted the lucky bird dancing in the flower box just out the window.

  Mike swung his attention toward the window in response.

  Guess I said that in my outdoor voice. “I guess there isn’t much harm in one week,” Brooke said, trying to act nonchalant. “Figuring out how he keeps getting into my house would be a good start. So what do we do?”

  “Aside from a few additional details today, you don’t do a thing. Be yourself, go about your business. I do all the work in this relationship.”

  “That’ll be a switch. I might just enjoy that.”

  He walked to the corner of the office, patted the chair in front of the computer, and gestured for Brooke to take the seat there.

  Mike reached across her and, with a tap, the screen came to life.

  He was giving her instructions and she’d already missed half of them while she was focused on that wedding ring on his finger. It hadn’t been there the other day on the farm visit; she was sure of it.

  “The software will walk you through a series of questions. If you don’t know it, just skip it. It ensures I don’t waste our time finding out what you already know.” He clicked through a couple preliminary screens, assigning a case number and startup questions, and then patted her shoulder. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

  He walked out of the office and she got down to the business of filling in the screen with information. She was able to fill in most of the blanks, which she wasn’t sure was good or bad.

  When he came back in the room, she was pushing back from the desk. “One last thing and we’re done. I need your itinerary for the week.”

  “I have it electronically. Let me grab it.” Brooke walked across the room to her handbag and retrieved her smartphone. “I live by this thing.” She grimaced. “Isn’t that awful? I can’t remember a thing without it.”

  “I know what you mean. Even the kids have them these days. How did our parents ever get along without technology?”

  “Beats me.” She walked back over to the desk and updated the details on the calendar. “Done. Thank you so much.”

  Mike shook her hand. “Great. We’ll sync up when we get together for that steak dinner on Friday anyway. I guess I won’t have to call for your address now.”

  “Do you think dinner is really a good idea under the circumstances? I mean with the case and everything, and…” How do you just blurt out that you aren’t that kind of girl? If he was married there was no way in hell she was going to give people in this town something to gossip about.

  “I don’t think it breaks any rules. Besides, it’s a community event.”

  “I was thinking you and your wife should just make it a night out. I mean, she’ll probably appreciate the alone time if you’re working on this case for me.”

  He looked a little dumbfounded at first, then held up his hand. “The ring? I don’t have a wife waiting at home if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You’re not married?

  “No.”

  “Then why let people think you are by wearing a wedding ring?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Maybe it was part of his undercover work. “But you’re not going to tell me right now, are you?”

  “Right. So dinner as planned? I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday.”

  “Yes. I guess so, and thanks for working me in so quickly.” She turned to leave but then turned back and smiled. “You know, I was really uncomfortable about this. Thanks for making it so easy. Thank you. I mean it. Did I just say ‘thank you’ like a hundred times?”

  “Just three, but who’s counting?” he teased, and Hunter let out a high-pitched whine as if he wanted to be a part of the conversation, making them both laugh. “You’re welcome. It was nice to see you again too.” He let his hand fall under her elbow as he guided her to the door and downstairs.

  He opened and held the door for her, then scribbled his home and cell phone on the back of his business card and handed it to her. “Call me if anything else comes up. Anytime, day or night. Got it?”

  “Got it.” She flipped the card against the thumb of her other hand, and then pointed the card his way. “That’s why you get the big bucks, right?”

  “Yep, that would be it,” he winked, then led her down the stairs and out to the sidewalk.

  “By the way,” she said as she turned around. She pointed toward the window boxes. “Those flowers. Did you plant them?”

  He looked up and grinned. “Marigolds. A housewarming from my dad.”

  “They’re my favorite. My granddaddy and I used to plant them from those ten-cent seed packets.” She smiled and glanced back up at them. “Good memories.”

  She turned to leave. “Thanks again,” she called out.

  “Later, bye,” he said as she walked away. He watched as she headed up Main Street and disappeared around the next corner. Still standing there, staring at the empty sidewalk, he heard his cell phone ring, bringing him back to reality. “This is Mike.”

  “Just testing it out,” she said. “You’re hired.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Goto ripped the circle-and-wave-covered page from his notebook and crumbled it in his palm when the girl walked out. Mike was right at her heels. Goto’s tongue flicked across his dry lips as he watched her flip her long hair over her shoulder as she moved gracefully down the block.

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk away. Mike was watching her too.

  Goto pulled his binoculars to eye level and twisted them into focus. Mike wore a goofy-ass smirk.

  “Stupid bastard.” Goto lifted his hand in a gun-like motion and pulled the fake trigger with his forefinger.

  He could picture the six-foot-something bastard gasping and grabbing for a pool of red in the center of his chest, then falling to the sidewalk. He could do it right now and be done. Too easy, though. No sport to that. “Soon, my friend. Soon.”

  Maybe that girl would factor into the final plan. Could he be that lucky? He dropped the binoculars into his lap and grabbed the notebook. Balancing it on the steering wheel, he started sketching. He pu
shed the pen, first lightly brushing it against the paper, then pressing hard to refine the image.

  Pretty damn good, if he said so himself. The girl stared back at him from the page. Okay, so she had some extra cleavage now, but it looked good that way. And then it dawned on him. This was the girl that he’d met at the yoga studio the other night. Brooke Justice. I knew I’d seen her before.

  He shoved the notebook back under his seat, finally feeling satisfied with the surveillance mission and himself. According to the digital clock on the dash, he had just enough time to stop and get a lottery ticket and get to work at the pizza shop on time—if he hurried.

  Holding down the job was a pain, but he needed to be close to his prey to make the plan, and he sure didn’t want to send up any red flags with his parole officer. As long as he was on time for his check-ins there shouldn’t be any problem.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The moment Brooke clicked Accept on the computer at Hartman Security and Investigation earlier that morning, state-of-the-art software was at work unraveling the recent events of Keith Farrell’s life and hers.

  On Monday morning, armed with the information on Brooke’s case, Mike headed out early to Virginia Beach to begin following the leads. He couldn’t go to Virginia Beach without stopping to see Perry, so he picked up a box of bear claws from Mac’s Bakery on the way out of town.

  Almost two hours later he pulled up in front of Perry Von’s office. It was just a little shotgun house-turned-office building, but it served the purpose. Mike walked inside to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and an adorable little blonde working Perry’s phone.

  “He in?” Mike asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mike’s ego deflated a little. Sir? Really? He eased on past the girl, went into Perry’s office, and dropped the bakery box on the desk. “Better than doughnuts. This is what guys in your line of work eat, right?”

  “I think you mean our line of work. I see all those years in the Marines couldn’t grind the smart-ass out of you.”

  “Never at risk.” Mike opened the box and stuffed half a bear claw into his mouth. “You’re one to talk.”