Finders Keepers Losers Die (9 page)

"You suck at stripping too, so I hear."

Stankovic's brows dove. "You're a
stripper?"

"No! I told you, I'm a P.I."

Stankovic looked disappointed. He moved away
to make a call on his cell phone.

"That was a stroke of luck yesterday,"
Scarface said, "knowing the neighbor."

"Yeah, we're old friends."

"Sylvia?"

I cringed. "All right, I lied to her. No big
deal. At least I didn't
sneak
in."

"She didn't suspect you?" He looked
impressed. "Nice job. I tried her. She didn't buy any of my
lines."

"Maybe if you didn't look so scary…"

"You think I look scary?"

I held my fingers half an inch apart. "Just
a little."

"That could be why I can't get a date."

"Could also be because you hang out at
places like The Grotto. The women there look even scarier than
you."

He grinned. "Which is why you stood out like
a nun at a brothel. I wouldn't go back there if I were you. Mad Max
was already suspicious. Next time he might want a personal
performance as proof."

I didn't tell him Lou had figured me out,
and threatened me. Thinking about Lou brought back reality with a
rush. Flirting with Scarface—I think that's what we were doing—had
distracted me from the cold fact that I was standing in a dead
man's apartment and I was no closer to finding Roberta's
jewelry.

"So, you won't tell me why you were watching
Scarletti?" I asked with what I hoped was a sexy look.

"You're catching on fast."

So much for sexy. "Can you at least tell me
how he died?"

"Nope."

I cut a sideways glance to Stankovic who was
talking to a female cop. "Come on, give me a break. This is my
first big case." No need to tell him it was my one and only. "And
if I leave here with nothing, Will's going to chew me out. He might
even fire me." Scarface didn't blink. "And after everything you and
I have been through together, we're…buddies." I put just the right
amount of pause before it to infer something more.

It worked. He draped an arm around my
shoulders and drew me into his chest. Ooh, yeah, baby. A girl could
get used to the scariness if it came with a rock hard body like
that.

"We can't have Knight firing you," he said.
In a low voice so Stankovic couldn't hear, he gave me the known
facts surrounding Lou's death.

Scarletti had been shot in the chest with
his own gun after a struggle. For that reason, the killer was most
likely a strong man, or had an accomplice. The apartment had been
turned over as if someone was searching for something, but not
thoroughly, probably because the killer knew the gunshot would have
been heard and he had to get out before the cops arrived.

The neighbor, Angela Lafayette, heard a
single gunshot and called the police. She didn't see Scarletti or
anyone else arrive because she was asleep, but she saw someone
running down the stairs about five minutes after the shot. She
thought it was a man but he had a hood over his head so she
couldn't ID him. The gun, found next to Scarletti's body, had been
wiped clean of prints.

"Anything missing?"

He shrugged. "Nothing obvious but we'll have
his girlfriend check to be sure."

I shrugged. "So that's it?"

"Yep."

"So basically you don't have much."

Scarface leaned against the kitchen bench
and crossed his arms and ankles.
He
knew how to do sexy.
"They're looking for prints now."

We both knew that wouldn't yield much. I'd
watched enough
CSI
to know that if the killer had cleaned
the gun, he'd probably made sure his prints didn't appear anywhere
else either.

"And I'm working my contacts," Scarface
added.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"I will be, as soon as Stankovic and I
debrief."

I sighed and slumped against the bench next
to him. Prickles of heat crept along the back of my neck and I
could feel a headache coming on. I needed to go to the pool for a
swim, or to the mall for a pedicure to clear my head.

I was distracted from the cooling thoughts
by a large figure looming in the open doorway. Will.

Fuck!

He looked like he wanted to bite someone's
head off. No prizes for guessing whose. I tried to blend into the
scenery but I guess I wasn't dressed like a cop because he spotted
me straight away. He stalked across the floor, his sharp glare
ripping through me. He stopped, hands on hips, between Scarface and
me. But instead of telling me what he thought of my entrepreneurial
activities, he turned to Scarface.

"What's going on here?" he asked in the
tight voice he seemed to reserve for ticking me off.

"Nice to see you too, Knight," said
Scarface. "Been a while."

"I haven't got time for reunions, Forde. I
got a call from a Detective Stankovic that my…" His gaze slid to
me. "…employee was down here making a nuisance of herself—"

"Hey, I'm right here!" I waved in his
face.

Will ignored me.

"Not exactly a nuisance," Scarface said, his
one eye grazing over my body.

A little shiver followed in the wake of his
scrutiny, but it wasn't from being creeped out. Quite the
opposite.

Will noticed the look too, and my reaction.
A deep frown split his forehead. "Anyone care to answer me?"

I cleared my throat and tried to think of
something to get me out of the mess but it appeared to be one of
those rare occasions where the truth might be best. I drew Will
aside.

"Now don't get mad—"

"It's a little late for that."

"I took on Roberta Scarletti as a
client."

I expected him to lose his temper and swear
and generally act like a pig, but he merely sighed. "I thought as
much. Cat, why? After everything I said?" He looked exhausted. His
stubble could rival Scarface's for length and the spidery lines
around his bloodshot eyes were deeper than ever.

Too bad he'd used up all my sympathy votes
in the previous couple of days.

"She was desperate. She needed help and I
felt sorry for her. Lou is—was—awful to her." I paused but he said
nothing. "I can do this, Will. Just give me a chance."

He held up his hands. "Let's not go into
that right now. I just want to fix this mess and get back to work.
Now," he turned to Scarface and Stankovic who'd joined us, "is Cat
in any trouble here?"

"Her bugging device was found under the
coffee table," said Stankovic, "and I'm sure her fingerprints are
everywhere. But I doubt we'll be needing to talk to her. She
doesn't seem to know much."

Condescending asshole.

"Thank you," Will said on a breath. "Come
on, Cat, let's go." He strode off but I didn't follow.

I felt like I was holding onto a slippery
pole and losing my grip fast. "Wait," I said, "I'm not finished
here."

"I think you are."

My blood reached boiling point. He might be
my boss but he didn't have to make me look like an idiot. A hundred
curses bubbled up inside and it was just a matter of which one
spilled out first.

"Relax, Knight," said Scarface, getting in
first. "Let Cat finish her investigations here. She's a good
interrogator. She makes me want to tell her everything." He said it
with a cheeky grin that changed his whole appearance. He really was
quite handsome, if you could look past the scar.

Will had been near the door but he strode
back into the living room and crossed his arms. He squared off with
Scarface and I could practically see the testosterone flying
between them. They must have had a serious history together to
dislike each other so much. Not knowing was like a red rag to a
bull. They don't call me Cat for nothing. Mom often said my
curiosity would be my downfall one day. That and my tendency to lie
through my teeth to save my butt.

"So how do you know each other?" I
asked.

"We used to work together," Will said
without taking his eyes off Scarface.

"Back when he had some balls," Scarface
said.

Oh-kay.

"As you may have already learned, Cat," Will
said, "Forde not only thinks he's God's gift to women and the
police force, he thinks private investigators are the scum of the
earth."

"He hasn't treated me that way," I said.

"That's because he wants to get into your
pants."

Since Scarface didn't deny it, I had to
assume Will was on the money. I suddenly felt awkward. Although I'd
flirted with Scarface, I wasn't sure I wanted to go beyond that. He
still freaked me out, not because of his disfigurement but because
of his don't-give-a-fuck attitude. I got the feeling he lived on
the edge, with one foot in respectability but the other foot firmly
in the sinister underbelly of the city. I suppose when you work
undercover, the line between the two can blur.

Will and I left when Stankovic and Scarface
refused to answer anymore questions. Outside, Will chaperoned me
across the road to my car even though his SUV was parked right
outside the apartment building. I unlocked the door to my Civic and
he held it open.

"See you back at the office," he said as I
got in.

He slammed the door and jogged across the
road to his Jeep. He followed me the whole way back to High Street,
parked behind me near the office and walked me through the door,
sticking closer than Kevin to Whitney in
The Bodyguard
, only
it was more irritating than sweet.

Carl came out, took one look at us, and
returned to his office and closed the door. Coward. It was his
fault I was on Will's hit list.

I dumped my handbag on my desk and sat in my
chair. "I'll just check the emails," I chirped.

"My office. Now."

"Okay, but don't say I never do anything
around here. When I offer to do something—"

"CAT!"

I held up my hands and marched up the
corridor to his office. He followed behind, closed the door and
directed me to a chair. Instead of sitting in his, he sat on the
edge of the desk in front of me. Not only was he closer that way,
but he was far higher than me. Good intimidation tactic. I'd have
to remember that if I ever interrogated a suspect.

He didn't say anything for a long time and I
avoided his gaze while he planned his lecture. Then I looked at
him. He was so furious, a little vein pulsed in his temple and
steam practically rose from his nostrils.

"Maybe I should start," I said. "I'm sorry,
Will, for—" I stopped. What the hell
was
I sorry for? For
taking on Roberta as a client? No. For going to the apartment to
investigate Lou's death? No.

"You lied to me, Cat." His voice, thick and
low, shook with anger. "You lied to me about Roberta, about your
dead grandmother—"

"My what? Oh, yeah, that was Carl's
idea."

"Don't change the subject. I'm so angry with
you right now. You put Knight Investigations' reputation on the
line. My license could be revoked if they find out you're my
secretary."

So that's why he hadn't told Stankovic and
Scarface what I really did at the office. And here I thought he was
being kind to me but all the while he was saving his bacon.

"I've spent years building up a relationship
with the police and you nearly ruined it by getting involved in a
murder."

"How was I to know Lou would wind up dead?
It was supposed to be a little surveillance case."

"This is why we don't take on
domestics."

"Because they end in murder?"

"Because they get messy. Cat, did you
seriously think you could do this on your own?"

I stood abruptly and Will reared back in
surprise. "I wouldn't have had to do it on my own if you were
willing to help me. Or maybe show me how to be an investigator like
you promised."

"Promised? I never—"

"You did, Will." I pointed my finger at his
chest, really pissed off now.

He stood too. "Show me where in your
contract."

Contract?
Oh
. "We had a verbal
agreement."

He spread his hands out in a placating
gesture. "Look, Cat, this isn't about your terms of employment.
It's about you lying to me and putting Knights in hot water. Thank
Christ Stankovic didn't ask to see your P.I. license."

I couldn't believe he was putting the blame
onto me. Okay, so I was a teeny bit responsible for pretending to
be an investigator when I wasn't, and I suppose I did use the
agency name. And I lied to him. But none of that would have
happened if he'd taken on Roberta's case in the first place.
Besides,
I
didn't kill Lou.

"I was handling the police just fine on my
own," I said.

He laughed without humor. "Yeah, and Forde
was handling you."

I didn't know what to say to that so I kept
quiet.

His deep sigh put an end to the argument. "I
don't need this," he said. "Not now. Both Waterstone and Slim want
me at their beck and call twenty-four seven. I can't keep both of
them at this rate."

"Well, Roberta didn't want you. She wanted
me
. If you'd let me take her on, it would have been easy
money. But I guess that escaped your notice." I strode out of his
office and down the corridor to my desk.

Okay, so I'd behaved like a drama queen. It
was a state of mind I'd perfected while acting. You don't get
noticed in Hollywood, even for bit parts, if you don't have a diva
lurking inside, no matter how deep down.

"I'll just collect my things and go," I shot
over my shoulder.

That brought the tortoise out of his shell.
Carl's blond head emerged from round his door. "You're
leaving?"

"Looks like it." I threw my coffee-stained
mug into my handbag and ripped off the funny movie quotes I'd stuck
around my computer screen for inspiration. "Send my final pay check
to my home address," I yelled up to Will. "By the end of the week,"
I added, "not two days late like last time."