Sleuthing for a Living (Mackenzie & Mackenzie PI Mysteries Book 1) (21 page)

There are times when you do everything right and the situation still goes sideways. A good private investigator needs to think on his feet.

From the
Working Man's Guide to Sleuthing for a Living
by Albert Taylor, PI

"You?" I blinked in confusion at Dr. Bernard Dole as he held a gun on my daughter. My daughter, who was supposed to be in school, not in mortal peril at my place of employment. "You were the one stealing the Alphadra?"

"It wasn't stealing." The not-so-good doctor's tone was even, as if he didn't have five people held hostage. "Right Touch was paid for those drugs, and paid far more than they were worth. Lock the door."

I did. "But why?" I asked, partly because I really wanted to know, but mostly because I needed to draw his attention away from Mac. As long as the barrel of that handgun was trained on my daughter, I couldn't do a thing.

Brett spoke up. "That's what you get for going into business with a loser like Paul Granger. Someone smarter would have covered his tracks better. How about you let the girl go. She's got nothing to do with this."

I could have kissed him for trying to secure her release and crossed my fingers that it would work.

Dr. Dole didn't turn so much as a hair as he studied Mac. "I'm afraid that's unacceptable. You've seen my face. It's unfortunate that you chose this very morning to show up here. I'm assuming this is why you came here, to see your mother?"

All the blood had drained from my daughter's face. Her lips were clamped firmly together, and she didn't answer him. Good girl.

Brett frowned. "Mother?"

The doctor made a derisive sound. "Well, she looks exactly like Ms. Taylor, doesn't she? Genetics don't lie."

Brett's gaze swung to me, and then back to Mac. I could see the wheels spinning. "You have a kid?"

Dole studied Mac more closely. "No, genetics don't lie. And if I'm not mistaken, she has your eyes, Mr. Archer. In fact, I'd wager you spent some quality time with Ms. Taylor sixteen or seventeen years ago." He chuckled at Brett's obvious astonishment and Mac's hands clenching into fists, her whole body braced for impact.

I didn't stop to worry about the personal atomic bomb that had just gone off. We could deal with the fallout later, if we survived. "So what's your plan then?" I took a step closer, intending to wedge myself bodily between Mac and Dole's weapon. "You're just going to murder an office full of people and expect to get away with it?"

"I have a convincing scapegoat." His free hand indicated the woman on the floor. "Dr. Granger's personal and professional slipups have her primed for a breakdown that ends in mass murder."

"But she has nothing to do with Alphadra." I risked another step, bringing me about five feet from Mac and the doctor. "And Brett knows Kimmy didn't either."

"Poor Kimmy. Wrong place, wrong time. I was sorry she had to die, but what else was I supposed to do when she discovered the phony orders? It was all because of that idiot, Paul Granger. Who did he think he was, demanding a bigger cut of the profits? I was the one who faked the orders under Kimmy's office ID code, paying for the drug out-of-pocket and cutting it down before handing it over to various contacts."

"But why?" I really didn't care, but a good investigator would want to know what motive she'd missed.

"Cancer research. My funding dried up, but I was so close, within a few months of coming up with a real treatment option without the horrific side effects. Now tell me, who deserved the lion's share of the profits?"

Another step. If I reached out my arm, I'd be able to touch Mac's chair. "So it's all about the money? You took a father away from his children, killed an innocent girl, and why? Because she figured out what you were doing?"

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. And that's far enough, Ms. Taylor."

I froze mid-step and swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter what your reasons are, you're a drug-dealing murderer."

He raised the gun but instead of shooting me, cracked it over my face. I went down hard, catching myself with my hands.

"Mom," Mac cried.

I held up a hand, trying to ignore the throbbing pain. "It's okay."

"Just for that, I'm going to shoot your daughter first, so you can watch her die." The click of the safety was audible.

I was about to scream when there was a loud knock behind the door.

Doctor Dole extracted a syringe from his jacket pocket. "Who is that?"

"A walk-in probably," Len spoke for the first time.

"Tell whoever it is to go away."

"We're closed," Len shouted.

"Mr. Copeland? It's Agnes Taylor, Mackenzie's mom."

Dr. Dole cursed. "Am I going to have to wipe out your entire sodding family tree?"

My mouth opened, and I was about to scream for her to run and get help when the barrel of the gun was pressed against my temple.

"Stand up. Let's greet her together. The rest of you, not a sound."

I nearly vomited as I pushed myself to my feet, and the room tilted like a really bad case of the drunk spins. Dole was right behind me, gun in one hand and syringe in the other. I tried to think of some way to warn my mother, some secret code that would let her know she needed to run and get help. But between the braining and my terror not one single thought came to mind.

We were all going to die because I wanted to play detective. Regret filled me. Hanging up on Hunter, fighting with Mac, not telling Brett the truth when I'd had the chance. And that was just one morning.

Would Uncle Al have found a way out of this mess? Uncle Al probably would have caught on to Dr. Dole immediately, would have stopped him before Kimmy was killed.

And then we were at the door. "Open it," Dole ordered.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered and turned the deadbolt and reached for the handle.

The door exploded in, knocking me back into the doctor. A defining boom resounded as the gun went off and a familiar burn stole my sight, clogged my nose, and made me gag.

Mom had spritzed us both with pepper spray.

Even with the ringing in my ears, I heard Dole curse. I tried to roll away from him, but rendered temporarily deaf and blind, all I really managed to do was flail like a fish tossed on the bank. I coughed and choked and sputtered for untold amounts of time before someone dragged me to the side of the room, got me a handful of wet paper towels, and stroked my hair.

My vision cleared first, though it wasn't exactly twenty/twenty. Agnes sat next to me, soggy paper towels in hand. She moved to replace them, but I shook my head then pointed to my nose. She handed me a box of tissues, which I used liberally. Mac knelt next to me. I could see her lips moving, but the ringing was getting worse, not better. I pointed to my ears and did a palms-up.

Mac turned and waved someone over. Dark boots and jeans appeared, and Hunter Black knelt down in front of me, his dark gaze assessing the mess.

"Sorry I hung up on you." I must have spoken loudly because several heads turned our direction. "It was an accident, I swear."

He tucked some hair behind my ear and touched a spot so sore it made me flinch. His gaze darkened, and he turned to Mac. I watched Mac's lips move and Hunter said something back. I was feeling dizzy again, so I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Someone tapped my knee. I opened my eyes and saw a yellow legal pad with the word
hospital
written on it.

I looked from the word to Hunter's face. "You aren't asking, are you?"

Slowly he shook his head.

I sighed. "Fine. Mac, stay close."

She took my hand and pulled me to my feet. I'd take that as a yes.

*   *   *

Six hours later I was seated comfortably on my couch, my hearing and sight mostly restored. The headache persisted though, even after a hot shower. The doctor had advised that we treat my head injury like a concussion, meaning someone had to wake me up every two to three hours. And have said person or people ask irritatingly idiotic questions every time cracked an eyelid.

There were plenty of volunteers, but I knew who I had to talk with first.

"What in the name of java were you doing there?" I bellowed at my daughter when we were alone. "If you wanted to talk to me you could have called. Or texted."

"I wasn't there to see you. I went there to talk to him." Mac flushed.

"How did you even know he was at Len's office?"

"I tracked his cell phone."

I blew out a sigh. "Well, cat's out of the bag now. I'm sorry, hon. None of this would have happened if I'd just fessed up yesterday."

Mac picked at a thread on her shirt. "Nona told me why you didn't. You know nobody could ever replace you, right?"

I reached out and pulled her into a hug, the motion making my head pound. It was worth the added misery, as children always were. "I know, but buried underneath my outer exterior of goddess-like fabulousness, you're mom's an insecure neurotic mess."

That got me a snort. "Not too deep underneath."

"Wiseass. Now, go get Calamity Jane and make sure she isn't packing heat."

Mac left, and Snickers hopped up onto my lap. She turned three circles before plunking down into a tight little ball of fluff.

"Oh, are we gonna be friends now?" I stroked her fur in a slow, soothing caress.

She let out a contented sigh, and her eyes drifted shut.

"That's what happens. I grow on people."

"Like a fungus," Mac retorted as she reentered the apartment, my mother following in her wake. Agnes appeared apprehensive, almost nervous.

"I'm so sorry I sprayed you," she blurted.

"Considering it was either that, I get stuck with whatever the heck was in that needle, or get shot at point-blank range, I'll take the pepper spray."

"You saved our lives, Grams." Mac put an arm around her shoulder. "You were kind of incredible."

"Well, Detective Black is the one who kicked the door in," Agnes said.

"I'm not buying the false modesty for one second," I told her. "You might as well buff your nails on your shirt and claim it was nothing."

"Honestly, Mackenzie. Can't you just say thank you?"

I took a slow and steady breath. "Thank you, Mom. For everything."

She blinked then blushed. "Well, you're welcome. I have to look after my girls. Have you eaten? I have this fantastic soup recipe. It has kale in it."

I made gagging sounds.

"Just try it. You never know if you might like it."

Mac and I bit our lips in tandem and then glanced at one another, both filling in a mental
that's what he said.

I broke first, a crack of laughter escaping. Snickers grunted but stayed put. Mac doubled over, wheezing with giddy delight.

Agnes looked back and forth between the two of us. "What am I missing?"

"Nothing, Grandma." Mac recovered enough to say. "It's an inside joke."

"Tasteless lowbrow humor," I added. "The best kind."

"I don't know," Agnes mumbled. "Maybe I should take my own advice and try it."

Mac and I exchanged another look, this time of the is-she-serious
variety.

"We could break her in slowly," I said. "A little
Caddyshack
, maybe some
Blazing Saddles.
"

"
Dumb and Dumber
, oh, and
The Duff
."
Mac looked thrilled with the idea of indoctrinating new blood into our cult-classic film family.

"Soup first," Agnes said with authority. "Mac, you want to help? It'll do you good to learn to cook."

"But not because you need it to lure some man to love you," I countered.

My mother actually rolled her eyes. "No, because good nutrition is important and because your mother is a lost cause."

"Thank you," I said and watched the two of them head out the door.

Five minutes later, my next visitor knocked.

"Come in, Brett." I called.

The door opened. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I saw you lurking in the shrubbery." I gestured toward the adjacent chair. "Have a seat."

He lowered himself into the chair across from me and studied my face.

"Go ahead." I said. "Though I have to warn you, if you're contemplating hitting me, I have an attack puggle here, and I'm not afraid to use it."

As if on cue, Snickers let out a warning growl.

"I'd never hit you." Brett looked utterly appalled.

"Well, you lured me to that meeting with a homicidal doctor."

He scowled at that. "I didn't know he was homicidal when I made the call. He just said he had information that would wrap up both of our cases. It wasn't until Dr. Granger walked in that he drew on us."