The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Men (25 page)

The next morning, I flew back to Los Angeles with resolve and determination. Zoë was living in a state of delusion. And chances are Mrs. Alice Garrett, Dustin's wife, was living in that same state. This was my opportunity to wake up two birds with one stone . . . so to speak.

So instead of driving straight home from the airport, I opened up Dustin Garrett's case file and inputted Lexi's home address into my car's navigation system.

I knew that trying to get to Dustin's wife through Lexi would have been too difficult. She would want to know the results herself first before she allowed me to speak to her mother, and I wasn't going to trust the delivery of this kind of information to a person who proudly describes herself as "almost thirteen." I also knew that getting Alice to come down to the office without telling her who I was or why I wanted to speak to her would be near impossible. So I decided that this, although highly unorthodox, would be the easiest, cleanest approach.

I used to do house calls all the time. When I was doing this job solo and didn't have an office to bring people to. I would visit the client's home once before the assignment and once after. But there was a reason I stopped entering people's homes. A very good reason. It was too much like entering their lives. After already having almost
slept
with someone's husband, the last thing you want to do is walk through their front door and see firsthand what you've just potentially destroyed.

However many times you remind yourself that what you did was for a just and worthy cause, these are still things that you don't need to see. And that's exactly why the clients come to me now.

Well, except for today. When the client happens to be twelve.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of a modest, one-story cottage-style home in Cheviot Hills. It was quaint and well kept. Nothing like the million-dollar mansions I used to visit back in the day.

The landscaping appeared to be a labor of love, with neatly sheared grass that reminded me of a marine's crew cut and a brick walkway lined with a rainbow of tulips.

My cell phone rang just as I was unfastening my seat belt and gathering my things. I checked the caller ID. It was John. He had been calling every twenty minutes since six
A.M.
this morning. And I had been ignoring his calls for just as long. I knew he had probably heard from Zoë either late last night or early this morning and was calling to get my side of the story. I groaned loudly and ignored the call once again. Then I shut off the cell phone and tossed it into my bag.

As I got out of the car and made my way toward the front door, I could feel my chest tighten and my breathing quicken. The nerves were settling in. Not because this was my first house call in over a year, but because, let's face it, this was no ordinary visit.

It was one thing to knock on the door of someone who's been expecting you. Who's been waiting impatiently for more than forty-eight hours to hear whatever news you've brought with you. It's quite another when the person on the other side of the door has no idea who you are. And the news I was bringing with me would definitely not be welcomed. In fact, I had to prepare myself for the fact that it might not even be
believed.

I sucked in a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Dogs barked in the background, and I heard a voice sternly telling them to shut up and sit. Not until the barking subsided and the voice chorused in a round of "Good girls. Stay!" did the door finally open.

Lexi Garrett's youthful face appeared on the other side of it.

I could tell that she was trying to place me. It wasn't that she didn't recognize me. She did. She just didn't recognize me
here.
On the front stoop of her parents' house, with her mother (hopefully) just in the other room.

After a moment of stunned silence, she finally got out, "Ashlyn? What are you doing here?"

And before I could even answer, her eyes opened wide as realization crossed her face. "Oh, my God. He failed, didn't he? That's why you're here. To tell me in person."

I smiled patiently and cocked my head to the side. "Is your mother here?" I asked, purposely avoiding her question.

"I knew it!" was her only reply. "I just knew he would."

"Lexi," I warned softly, "that's not necessarily why I'm here. I would like to speak to your mother. In private."

She tossed me a confused look. "I don't get it. Why can't you just tell me if he . . ."

But her voice stopped suddenly, and I could see her body stiffen as her hand clutched the doorknob.

"Lexi?" came a voice from behind her. A tender voice. A warm voice.

An unassuming voice.

I felt my body tense up as well. For as long as I've been doing this, for as long as I've been breaking bad news, you would think that I would have seen it all. But this . . . this was new. This was different. And this was making my heartbeat feel erratic in my chest. As if it were beating for the very first time and still trying to get the hang of it.

Then a face appeared. It was soft and feminine and framed with shoulder-length waves of auburn hair. And its eyes were gentle and innocent. The worst kind of eyes to see in this situation.

The moment I laid my eyes on Alice Garrett, I was overwhelmed by the stark differences between her . . . and my best friend Zoë. I've always said the grass is greener on the other side. Especially when it comes to infidelity. And in this case, it couldn't have been more true.

Zoë was sarcastic and sassy and brooding and always enhanced by bold clothing choices and dramatic makeup. This woman was natural and minimal and exuding a soothing, uncorrupted energy. The kind of person who always assumes the best of everyone she meets, even after she's been scorned.

They were like night and day.

"Who is this?" Alice asked, looking adoringly at her daughter.

But for the first time since that child stepped into my office nearly six weeks ago, she was absolutely speechless. It appeared to surprise her mother as well, because a mellow laugh escaped her lips. The black, wet nose of a Labrador retriever pushed its way into the open doorway, followed shortly by another one belonging to a smaller terrier mix.

Mrs. Garrett nudged both of them aside with her leg and turned to me. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, hello," I said as politely as possible, feeling the nerves already starting to slip into my voice. "I'm a friend of Lexi's. Actually, she came to me asking for some help a few weeks back, and I'm hoping I might be able to speak to you about it."

Alice's eyebrows rose inquisitively, and she looked to her daughter for confirmation. Lexi's head dropped down to avoid eye contact and then eventually fell into a surrendering nod.

"Well, of course," Alice obliged, trying to hide the inevitable inquisitiveness in her voice. "Please come in."

"Thank you." I stepped warily across the threshold, bracing myself for all that was waiting for me on the other side.

Lexi followed quietly behind us into the living room and slinked into a seat on the far end of the couch.

"Lexi," I said kindly, "I think it's best if I talk to your mother alone."

She slumped in her seat and crossed her arms. "But—"

"Lex . . ." her mom began in a warning tone, but she didn't finish the sentence. Clearly the tone was enough, because Lexi reluctantly stood up and disappeared from the room. I had no doubt that she would stay close enough to eavesdrop, so I knew I had to speak softly.

I scooted in closer to Alice. "This is a little difficult for me," I admitted honestly as I clasped my hands in my lap. I couldn't help but marvel at how our roles were suddenly reversed. I was usually the calm one, the one in control, while the person sitting across from me, whether it be in my office or in her own home, was usually the restless one, unable to sit still. But I had to stay professional here. Regardless of how hard this was for me or the fact that it was
my
best friend who was with this woman's husband last night.

"I feel as though I'm in a bit of an awkward position here," I continued.

Alice cocked her head to the side and studied me. "You said Lexi came to you for help?"

I nodded. Yes, that was a good place to start. I would start there. "She did."

"What kind of help?"

I took a deep breath and started apprehensively, "You see, Mrs. Garrett, I run a very special kind of business. With very special kinds of clients, of which Lexi . . . is definitely not the norm."

God, I sound like a madam managing an upscale whorehouse.

Confusion flashed over her face. I definitely wasn't off to a very good start. I decided the best way to do this was to just blurt it out and answer questions later.

"I run a company that provides fidelity inspections for distrustful spouses. Kind of like a private investigation agency, but focusing solely on infidelity."

Alice nodded as if she understood, but the puzzled look on her face gave her away.

So I kept talking. "Lexi came into my office because she was concerned about her father—"

"Wait, Lexi went to a private investigator's office?"

I nodded with caution. "Yes, apparently she got the name of our agency from a friend who overheard her mother talking about it. At least that's the story she told me."

I could tell that Mrs. Garrett was starting to catch on. At least the anger lines that were appearing around her mouth and forehead were suggesting as much. "She came to you because she was worried that her father was cheating on me?"

I struggled with her summarization. "Technically, no. Lexi hired us—well, me, rather—to test whether or not her father, your husband,
would
cheat on you."

Now the words made sense. All too much sense, because Alice shot out of her seat and glared at me with a look so intense, I had no choice but to look away. "You took money from a twelve-year-old girl to do some kind of infidelity sting operation on
my
husband?!"

Okay, when she put it that way, it didn't sound all that kosher. But I immediately raised my hand to defend myself. "No, Mrs. Garrett, I did not take Lexi's money. I told her I would take on her case for free because she was concerned that—"

But she didn't let me finish. The disgust was spewing forth from her mouth like verbal vomit. "Who the hell do you think you are? Dragging a child into her parents'
private,
personal relationship matters, which are frankly much less
your
business than hers! What kind of a sick, fucking person even does that?"

The two dogs that had been lying disinterestedly at our feet suddenly caught wind of her excitement and raised their heads inquisitively.

I could tell this conversation was already getting out of hand. I hadn't even been able to tell her yet about Zoë (or rather, the nameless, unknown stranger I would refer to her as), and already she was dropping the F-bomb. And something told me this woman did not readily curse in everyday conversation. Even the dogs were becoming agitated. I had to wrangle this in if I was ever going to successfully divulge all the information I had come with.

"Mrs. Garrett," I pleaded, "please calm down so we can talk rationally about this. I didn't say I went through with it." Which was technically the truth, but at the same time a slight exaggeration of it.

But apparently my tactic was the right one, because she deliberated momentarily before sitting down and forcing out a jagged, "Sorry," through her clenched teeth.

"I understand that this is upsetting. I was upset myself to see her in my office. Obviously she's not one of my everyday clientele." I forced out a weak laugh in hopes of lightening the mood a bit. It didn't work. Alice continued to glare at me, her fists clenched at her sides.

I cleared my throat and continued, "The reason I wanted to speak to you in private is that you're right, this isn't any of Lexi's business. It's yours and yours alone. And that's why I'm here."

Alice eyed me with skepticism, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled heavy breaths. But she didn't speak. And I suppose I should have been grateful for that. I really, wasn't looking forward to being called a "sick, fucking person" again.

'You see, when I flew to Palm Springs this weekend to conduct the assignment"—I paused, easing into the rest of the sentence—"I noticed that Mr. Garrett was not with the group of people that he was supposed to be with."

I waited for a reaction, but Alice's face was pure stone. She was beyond letting my words affect her at this point. At least not outwardly. But her eyes told a different story.

So I kept talking. "Lexi told me that he was supposed to be on a golf trip with some of his friends. But instead I found him with . . . a woman."

Alice continued to glare at me, rage simmering just below the surface. And I was more than confident that my next words would bring her to the boiling point. But they had to be said. Even if they were the last words I uttered in this room, they were the most important.

"It was very clear to me, when I saw them together, that Mr. Garrett was having an intimate
relationship
with this woman." I paused momentarily, searching her face for a sign that I should continue or just stop there. I received no confirmation either way. "I wanted to tell you this in person because I firmly believe in my heart that it's the right thing to do. That you deserve to know. That's why I started my agency in the first place, because I wanted to help people—"

And before I could finish the sentence, I felt the sting of Alice Garrett's right hand making contact with my cheek, and my head whipped around so fast from the impact, I nearly lost my balance.

My head went fuzzy, and I couldn't follow my stream of consciousness. Not that I had much of one at this moment. My hand rose instinctively to touch my throbbing face as I struggled to come to terms with what had just happened.

But I wasn't given much time.

"Get out." Her voice was unyielding and striving for impassiveness. But the slight waver in her tone suggested it was a losing battle.

I slowly lifted my head to look at her, my whiplashed neck screaming in protest. "Mrs. Garrett . . ." I started softly, still in shock.