Falling for the Nanny (3 page)

Patty sang along with a golden oldie on the radio, “My Boyfriend's Back.” How appropriate.

Seeing Alec again had been both sweet and bitter. Like candy bars with pepper sauce, she mused wryly. What a darling little girl he had. If her mother was anything like her, what had gone wrong?

Patty might be tempted to take some satisfaction in the failure of even such a paragon of womanhood, but Sabrina Denny hadn't stolen Alec from her. Besides, a divorce meant pain for everyone involved.

Had he pulled the same 180-degree turn on his wife as he had on his high-school sweetheart? That dismissal out of nowhere—she certainly hadn't seen it coming—still burned. True, he'd been neglecting his studies, but so had she. They could have worked together to get back on track.

Old news. Get over it.

Fact Hunter Investigations was located above an escrow company and next to the Sexy Over Sixty Gym in a small shopping center on Lyons Way. The second-floor location, which at first had struck Patty as kind of low-rent, had a public relations advantage, according to Mike. The small percentage of clients that actually dropped by the agency preferred to park in front of something neutral rather than a detective agency, in case anyone spotted their car. They'd rather not
have their friends and neighbors guess that they suspected their spouse of cheating or their employees of embezzling.

Once you topped the flight of stairs, the place took on a sharp, professional air. Mike had added a fresh coat of paint and sturdy beige carpeting. His detective license stood out on one wall, along with a private patrol operator license that allowed them to do bodyguard and security work. These were surrounded by awards, commendations and certificates from special courses he'd completed while working as a detective for the Safe Harbor police.

Sue Carrera, the secretary who'd come with the place, was on the phone, speaking Spanish. Patty caught the words
esposo
and
mujer—husband
and
woman.
The language of faithless spouses was pretty much universal.

From an inner office emerged a tall, sandy-haired man, wearing a better suit than in his police detective days and a pair of glasses Patty hadn't seen before. “What's with the specs?”

Mike gave the tiniest of starts, which was unusual, because he rarely got caught off guard. “Didn't hear you come in.”

“Must be my catlike grace,” she told him. “Hey, I nailed Frimley. Wanna see a hilarious video?”

“Climbing a ladder?” he guessed.

“Skateboarding!” Stepping into the office, she ran the video for him.

Mike responded with a rolling chuckle. “Good work, Pats.”

His approval rippled through her the way her grandpa's used to on those rare occasions when she rose to his high standards. Patty was glad she'd never felt any romantic stirrings toward Mike, even when he'd helped her try to land the promotion. Although he was good-looking and in his early thirties, she valued his critical approval too much to date him.

“Don't you love the way he started to show off for the camera before it hit him what I was doing?” she said, extending the moment.

“It made my day.” Mike adjusted his glasses, which he still hadn't explained.

“Is that a disguise?” she blurted. “You're too young for reading glasses.”

He tucked them into his shirt pocket. “My vision gets blurry from the computer glare. I spent most of the morning running background checks.”

“I'm glad you assign me the fun stuff.”

“Speaking of which, I have another case for you.” He handed her a printout sheet from his desk. “A Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan discovered their eighteen-year-old daughter's been trolling for men on the internet. She's set up a meeting they'd like you to monitor. At a local restaurant.”

Patty glanced at the sheet. “Saturday? I'm in Leo's wedding, remember?” Although she was hardly the bridesmaid type, she'd been flattered when her partner's fiancée, Dr. Nora Kendall, had asked her to be the maid of honor. Patty hadn't put on a dress since her high school homecoming dance, and didn't intend to, so, after some good-natured negotiations, they'd settled on her wearing a tuxedo.

“I'll cover Saturday's rendezvous. You can take it from there. Wish we weren't so short-handed.” Mike had been counting on his foster brother and coinvestor, an Arizona sheriff's deputy named Lock Vaughn, joining them. The guy had managed to get himself shot in the leg and was temporarily out of commission.

Patty hated disappointing Mike, even though he didn't seem to mind. “I guess we're a bit too busy.”

“Seems like it, but most of these cases can be wrapped up in no time.” Mike sat on the edge of his broad desk, its surface covered by neatly stacked files and notes lined up
side by side. “As you know, we inherited some large corporate clients, but they won't pay all the bills. We get hits on our website and through the Yellow Pages, but those aren't enough, either. Anything you can do to help bring in cases would be appreciated.”

“Me?” Patty hadn't considered getting involved in the marketing end of the business, but while this was Mike and Lock's company, she had a stake here, too. “I could nose around at the wedding. You should come, too. I'll bet you could make it in time for the reception.” Although the affair was a small one, Patty was allowed to bring a guest.

“That's a good idea from a business standpoint. Nora's got connections at the hospital, and Leo's family is prominent in this town.” Mike rubbed his forehead. “Okay, if I finish in time, I'll be there.”

“Just show up and say you're with me.” She scanned the sheet again. “The meeting's at one. Wedding doesn't start till four. I can do both.”

“You're the maid of honor.”

“It's not like I have to arrive three hours early. Nora said half an hour would be fine.”

“You certain about this?”

I'm sure I want to carry my weight around here.
“You have to admit, Miss Finnegan's a lot less likely to notice a woman spying on her than a big guy like you.” Patty had another thought. “You got an ID on this Romeo? If he's a sex offender, we could have a police escort waiting for him.”

Mike shook his head. “Nothing yet. Besides, the girl's eighteen. She can meet anybody she likes. You sure you want to do this?”

“No question.” Patty checked her watch. “I'd better go write up the miraculous recovery of Mr. Frimley.”

“Don't let me stop you.”

She chose the private office set aside for Lock over the
report-writing room jammed with file cabinets and supplies. Feet happily propped on the desk of a detective she had yet to meet, Patty called Frimley's neighbor, who proved to be a gold mine. She'd actually seen Stanley working out in his garage once—the doors had opened on their own, before he'd managed to shut them again—and she provided names and phone numbers of a couple of other neighbors, as well.

After calling them and garnering a few more helpful observations, Patty set to work organizing her material. Even with the neighbors' testimony and the video as evidence, a careful recounting of facts was essential. The attorney for the other side could spin doubts around the smallest inconsistency.

Time of day. Weather. License plate of the gardener. She'd long ago trained herself to commit items like that to memory.

She hadn't seen any kids around, Patty recalled. At that hour, when she was growing up, she'd have been outdoors flying around on a bike or skates. Were they all stuck in day care, or glued to their video games, or what?

She wondered if Fiona was allowed to roam outside unsupervised. You didn't have to tell an ex-cop about the safety issues, but that curious, active little girl must ache to spread her wings and go exploring.

If she were my daughter, I'd find a way to give her as much independence as I could. Safely, of course.

Wait a minute. This couldn't be a sign of latent maternal instincts, could it? Patty's fingers hesitated over the keys. Sure, she liked Fiona, but she wasn't about to turn into somebody's mother.

On the other hand, as she'd reflected earlier, there was no telling what course her life might have taken if she and Alec had stayed together.

He used to kiss like nobody's business. Patty had never met another man who managed to be so gentle and so passionate
at the same time. Holding her that special way, teasing her, then forgetting himself and…well, they hadn't quite done it in high school, but she felt certain they'd have gone all the way in senior year, if they hadn't broken up.

His parents had probably been worried about that. Sex, and the pernicious influence of a girl who too often preferred fun to academics. They'd given him an ultimatum as he prepared to send out his college applications. If he wanted their financial support, he needed to lose the girlfriend.

Patty had to admit she shouldn't have invited Alec to a party the night before he took the SATs. He'd surprised her by tossing back a couple of drinks, which was unusual for him. She'd learned later that he'd woken up the next day with a pounding headache, and his results had come in lower than expected.

He'd taken the tests again a few months later and scored much higher, but by then his parents had demanded he drop her. Knowing he was facing a long haul to either medical school or a PhD, Alec had caved rather than run up huge debts. Besides, he'd told Patty earnestly, high-school romances hardly ever lasted. In his view, the two of them were just bowing to the inevitable.

The day he'd broken the news, she'd felt sucker punched. For weeks, she hadn't believed he would stick to it. She'd moped by the phone, sat alone at lunch hoping he'd join her, even driven by his house trying to catch sight of him. Then her younger brother ratted her out to Grandpa.

His words still stung. “That boy's not worthy of you. Don't be one of those soft women who're always forgiving the men who wrong them.”

Ashamed to have disappointed her grandfather, Patty had reined in her emotions and focused on her own grades. The day she was admitted to Cal State Long Beach's criminal justice program had been a triumph.

Her grandfather had been right and so had Alec. High-school love stories lasted only in the movies.

 

O
N
S
ATURDAY
, Patty arrived an hour early at the designated coffee shop and circled it, noting the cars and license plates. If this guy was legitimate, he'd simply drive up at the appointed time. But the more she'd read the material supplied by Mrs. Finnegan, and checked the online databases to which the agency subscribed, the more suspicious she'd become.

Lover boy had given his name as Glenn Jerome and said he lived in Safe Harbor, but she couldn't find any records under that name. He also claimed to be twenty-five, and that he'd dropped out of college to pursue his dream of becoming a rock singer. Very romantic, but why couldn't she find any music videos of his?

The client's daughter, Judi, sounded very naive in her emails. She wrote about her plans to become a physical therapist, her volunteer work at a local hospital and her hopes of finding Mr. Right. While she'd had the sense not to give out her home address and phone number, data like that was easy to come by.

In the photo he'd sent, Glenn had cropped blond hair—not very rock-star-like, to Patty's way of thinking—and a sly smile. No way to tell when it had been shot, and of course it might not be him at all. Judi had sent a high-school picture that showed a friendly round face. He'd asked for something more personal, So I cn see how pretty u r all ovr.

She'd stalled, saying you never knew where images might end up, and also declined his request to switch to text messages. Glenn hadn't been too happy about that, or about not being able to call her cell phone, but he'd given in.

It all seemed a little strange, Patty reflected as she found a parking spot with a clear view of the restaurant's entrance. If the Finnegans would just sit down and talk to their daughter,
they might be able to clear up the whole business and send this guy packing. But then Fact Hunter Investigations would be minus one paying client.

It wasn't only liars and cheats that kept detectives in business. It was also people who had no idea how to communicate with their loved ones.

 

F
IONA CHEWED HER CHICKEN
sandwich slowly, her little face scrunched in deep thought. Well, deep thought for a four-year-old. Why couldn't she enjoy her lunch and the gorgeous view from their condo's balcony? Below the bluffs, colorful umbrellas dotted a pristine beach. Gulls wheeled, sailboats skimmed the sea and sunbathers worked on their tans despite the cool ocean air. Alec's daughter ignored them all.

“Daddy, a person
could
eat a chocolate bar for dinner if she really wanted to, couldn't she?” she said plaintively, revisiting the topic that had obsessed her for the past two days.

“Honey, no sane person would make a meal out of anything that unhealthy.” Realizing his words might come back to haunt him, he amended that to, “Patty's a detective. I'm sure there are times when she's stuck on a job and has to stave off hunger pangs. She only eats them out of necessity.”

“I get hunger pangs,” his daughter responded.

Alec wondered what would happen if he allowed Fiona to try dining on chocolate bars one night until her teeth hurt. That might cure her. Or backfire. Worst case: his ex-wife could find out and use it against him.

“If you're hungry, eat your corn and peas,” he said with what he considered irrefutable logic.

“I'm cold,” Fiona countered.

The sea breeze
was
chilly, and while eating outside ought to be a fun experience, the endless rumble of the surf threatened to drown their voices. “Okay.” Alec slid open the door,
scooped up their plates and his glass and led the way inside. Fiona trailed him with the silverware and her spill-proof cup.