The Detective Page 9

  And just that fast, he went back to his laptop. “Yow. Check. It. Out. Hello, Ed Long.”

  “You found him. Is there a photo?”

  He clicked on a link that led to a local newspaper article from six years ago. “No photo. If this is our Ed Long, he was arrested on robbery charges.” He whistled. “Did three years.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Don’t panic. He’s not a murderer. Nothing here indicates violence. Money motivates him, not blood.”

  Brodey dug a notepad from his messenger bag and, sling and all, jotted notes. “Let’s check the address we have. If it’s still good and you recognize him, I’ll go see his lawyer. The lawyer won’t tell me much, but it never hurts.”

  Did she need an assistant enough to risk visiting a potential murderer?

  No.

  Not unless she intended to have a life again. If she went and was able to identify Ed Long, it might move this investigation along. In turn, allowing her to complete the renovations and get the house sold.

  Debating the assistant-versus-no-assistant dilemma, she tilted her head one way, then the other. Sleep. That was what she needed. Sleep would happen when she hired an assistant.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Good. Let’s do this.” He squeezed her arm. “This’ll be good. Trust me. I’ll take care of it.”

  She believed that. She believed when Brodey Hayward put his mind to something, nothing stopped him. Why she felt that way, she wasn’t quite sure, but the way he entered a room, that commanding presence, his ability to take charge of a situation—no matter what that situation—she imagined he always took care of it.

  “I know you will. I don’t know how I know, but I do. And I like that. It doesn’t happen very often.”

  “You? Really? I thought you were the trusting one.”

  “I am, but this is different. I trust people until I don’t trust them. I’m not stupid and I won’t hand a stranger my life’s savings. But you? I might give you my life’s savings, and I’m not sure I’m happy about it.”

  In truth, it terrified her.

  Above her, something crashed. She glanced up at the ceiling, hoping a sink didn’t plummet through.

  “It’s fine!” Nate yelled from upstairs.

  “Thank you!” She went back to Brodey. “All I need is him putting a hole in the ceiling.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  He pulled a face. “Wow.”

  “What does ‘wow’ mean?”

  After closing the laptop, he slid it into his messenger bag. “It’s good. You’re twenty-nine and managing contractors who’ve probably been in this business longer than that, if I’m any good at guessing Nate’s age. You’re fearless. I don’t know many women like you. Well, except my sister, but she’s twisted that way. She grew up surrounded by cops. That fearlessness scares the hell out of me, but it’s impressive. You’re impressive. Makes me wonder why you don’t like trusting me. Then again, maybe that’s why you haven’t let a man snag you.”

  Rutting animals. “I almost did. We were engaged. Last year.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “One day I walked past a jewelry store downtown and saw a wedding ring that I loved. I was a few blocks from my so-called beloved’s office so I swung by there to tell him about my find.” She smiled a little, let that feeling of happiness come back to her. Occasionally, she liked to think about those moments, the joy and excitement as she raced the three blocks to tell him the great news. “I was so happy. Probably the happiest I’d ever been.”

  “What’d he say?”

  The memory, as it always did, faded to that second when her world broke apart. “I never got a chance to tell him. I opened the door to his office and found him on top of his twenty-year-old intern.”

  “Come on! That is harsh.”

  “And incredibly cliché, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, man.”

  “I was so humiliated.” She flapped her arms. “I mean, how does that happen? He’s the one doing a college student—never mind his employee—on his desk, and I’m humiliated?”

  Again, he reached up, ran one of his big, giant and incredibly warm hands down the side of her head. “What’d you do?”

  She shrugged. “I walked out. Left the door open so everyone could see, and I walked out. I was dead inside, but I wasn’t about to let his entire office see me come apart. I saved that for when I got home. Had a good cry over it, then I got mad. I packed every bit of his stuff up and told him the box would be on my doorstep at eight o’clock. Then I deleted him from my contacts.”

  Brodey laughed. “Damn, I love that. He deserved it.”

  “You know it. I’ll forgive, but I don’t forget. He hurt me and no matter how many times he begged, I didn’t see myself ever having faith in him again.”

  “And you think that was unfair? After he betrayed you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “He was messing around. You think he wouldn’t have done that after the wedding? No. He got what he deserved. If he was smart, he learned from it. Seriously, I don’t get guys like that. I mean, I’m no saint, I like sex as much as the next guy, but if you’re gonna make that commitment, stick to it. If you wanna be off-leash, then don’t make the commitment. What’s the big deal?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Guys are stupid sometimes. What can I say?”

  Lexi laughed. “You know, Brodey Hayward, you might be part woman underneath all this machismo.”

  His face distorted, his lips peeling back into a look that indicated she might be next in line for the electric chair. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re just...reasonable. You get it. A lot of men don’t. And I also think I may wind up sleeping with you.”

  “Uh, pardon me,” Nate said.

  She spun back, heat not just creeping but sizzling up her neck. Nate was not blind, nor was he stupid, but being a good man, seeing Lexi’s embarrassment, he turned his attention to the molding above the doorway, running his hand over it. “We may need to replace this.”

  Sure they did.

  The inferno raging in Lexi’s cheeks cooled. She just might get out of this disaster. “Everything okay?”

  Behind her, Brodey brushed his hand along her lower back, distracting her, reminding her that for the past year, the majority of her life had been spent alone, without simple touches of affection. Even for a woman who disliked PDA, she craved the basic comfort of human touch.

  “Yeah,” Nate said. “I...uh...need to run and check on another job site. It’ll take about an hour. Will you be okay here?”

  Earlier, she’d told him about her experience with the supposed neighbor who wasn’t a neighbor and, not surprisingly, he’d agreed with Brodey about her not being alone in the house.

  “She’s good,” Brodey said.

  Oh. She was, was she? One soul-baring conversation and suddenly he was in charge? She shot him a look.

  “I’m not bossing you around. We just said you’d go with me to check this guy out. See if he matched the sketch. That’s all.”

  She hesitated, ticked back the conversation. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “So, we’re squared away here?” Nate asked.

  “Yes, thank you. Apparently I’m going on a suspect hunt.”

  * * *

  BRODEY DROVE PAST the broken-down duplex that matched the address Jenna had given him for Ed Long. The rental sign stuck into the front lawn, if that small patch of dirt mixed with splotches of dormant grass could be considered a lawn, didn’t look promising. Could be for the adjoining unit.

  Otherwise, Ed Long was in the wind.

 
In the passenger seat, Lexi fiddled with her phone—probably checking emails. Or ignoring him after she’d announced that maybe she’d give him a shot in the sack. An announcement he couldn’t drop-kick from his mind. Yep, when he got her alone again, he’d make up for lost time. For now, she could ignore him all she wanted.

  “Hey,” she said, “what are you smiling about?”

  “You, actually.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep. Thinking about getting you alone again makes me a happy boy.”

  He’d heard silence before, brutal silence that made him twitch, but this went beyond that. Beautiful Lexi Vanderbilt sat beside him, her eyes wide and focused and her breaths coming in short, uneven bursts. Total panic attack. He patted her leg. “Relax.”

  “I...don’t have a lot of free time. I can’t drop everything. And thinking about squeezing...uh... Wow...bad word choice.” She winced. “I don’t have room for a lot in my insane life. And I don’t want you mad at me.”

  “Who says I’ll be mad at you? We had a conversation. It doesn’t equal a lifetime commitment.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “I’m thirty-two years old and have never come close to considering marriage. I’d say, yeah, I’m okay with that.” Her head snapped back—whoops—a little sensitivity might have been in order there. Way to go, Brodey. “That sounded bad. Probably should have worded it differently.”

  “I’d rather have the truth. I’m a lunatic about it. No secrets or lies. It’s vital to me, so I appreciate you being so up-front. You’re looking for fun. I get it.”

  Was he? A few months ago, definitely. After grueling twelve-hour days, a hot woman, a warm bed and no attachments worked fine. Just fine. Now, being on disability, bored out of his skull in his empty apartment, drove him crazy enough to realize the definite lack of a relationship wasn’t so great.

  And then his mother cracked that joke about him needing to find a wife so he’d stop coming over and disrupting her schedule. Thanks, Mom.

  Even his mother had dumped him.

  Half a block from the busted-up duplex, he snagged a parking spot. “Okay,” he said. “Wait here. I’m gonna knock on the door. See if he answers.”

  “Wait. What if he recognizes you? If he’s been watching the Williamses’ place, he’ll have seen you coming and going.”

  Before getting into the car, he’d ditched his sling and now slowly reached into the backseat. He grabbed a skullcap, shoved it on his head along with his sunglasses. Instant disguise. “If he’s seen me, he’s never gotten close enough to recognize me with the hat and glasses. Sit tight. Lock the doors.”

  He slid his ASP expandable baton from under the seat, shoved it into his back pocket and started the trek. Hunched against the wind, he shoved his hands into his pockets to retain any heat possible. Damned frigid weather. To distract himself, he counted down the addresses. Next unit on the left was Long’s, and not for the first time Brodey wished he’d had his badge and sidearm. At least he had the ASP. No self-respecting cop walked into a situation like this without a weapon. If necessary, he could snap a bone with that baton.

  If necessary.

  He opened the aluminum screen door and winced at the squeak. Catching the door with his foot, he wedged between it and hammered on the inside door.

  Nothing.

  In another few seconds, he’d bang on it again. Harder. The door to the adjoining unit opened, revealing a more-than-middle-aged guy in a stained white T-shirt and flannel pants. His thinning gray hair stuck up on one side and grid lines dented his left cheek. Late sleeper. Considering it was almost lunchtime.

  “You here about the rental?” he croaked. “Give me a second. I’ll get the key.”

  Now, on a normal visit like this, Brodey would badge the guy and identify himself. Not today. This visit, he’d be a lowlife looking for another lowlife.

  “Nah.” He gestured to the door in front of him. “Lookin’ for Ed. You seen him?”

  The man’s face pinched. “That no-good bum? He burned me on a month’s rent. Haven’t seen the SOB.”

  Well, damn. “He skipped?”

  “Three weeks ago yesterday. Took his stuff and went. Left the trash, though. I had to clean that stinking mess. If you find him, tell him I’m looking for him. And I’m keeping his security deposit.”

  Brodey glanced at the door leading to Ed Long’s now-vacant apartment and considered asking for a peek.

  The landlord jerked his thumb toward Long’s former living unit. “Why’re you lookin’ for him? I don’t want no trouble here.”

  Brodey reached into his jacket pocket and unfolded the copy of the sketch Lexi had done, let the landlord have a look. “We go back a ways. My sister saw him a week or so ago. She’s an artsy type and drew this sketch of him. I didn’t recognize him with longer hair.” He snatched the sketch back and shoved it into his pocket again. “Figured I’d track him down and see what he was up to.”

  “Your sister is pretty good. He had that long hair the whole time he lived here. Two years he made on-time rent payments. Then he skipped on me.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry ’bout that. I’ll rip him one when I see him.”

  The landlord shivered against the frigid air. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Brodey made his way back to Lexi and his Jeep SUV. As he approached, the door locks clunked. Lexi must have hit the button. He hopped back into the vehicle, plucked the skull cap off and tossed it over his shoulder. “No dice.”

  She cocked her head, studying him for a second before lifting her hand—what’s she doing?—and mashing down one side of his hair. He would have liked to say something about that being nice or whatever, but she’d likely freak on him, so he’d keep those thoughts to himself. Wouldn’t stop him from fantasizing about other things she could be doing with those hands.

  She finished fiddling with his hair and sat back again, apparently unaffected. She may have been unmoved, but not his nervous system. Nope. That sucker couldn’t have been more alert. He shook it off. “Thanks. For fixing my hair.”

  “Sure. It looked cute, but I didn’t think you’d want to be walking around like that. You have great hair, by the way. It’s wavy, but not curly.”

  “Yeah. Used to make me nuts. Then I gave up trying to control it. Wherever it lands, it lands.”

  “With the right cut, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ve learned. And believe me, I take a ton of garbage from my brother because the only person I’ve found who can deal with it works in a swanky salon in the Loop. Sixty dollars to cut my damned hair. On my salary. My brother pays fifteen.”

  “Yes, but your brother’s hair probably doesn’t look—or act—like yours.”

  “My point exactly!”

  Irritated over his trip to Long’s being a bust—not to mention thinking about that damned sixty dollars—he slid the car into gear and hit the gas.

  “I guess Mr. Long wasn’t home? Or is the rental sign for his place?”

  “He skipped three weeks ago. Landlord can’t find him. And, just so you know—” Brodey cleared his throat, readying for his croaking impression of the landlord “—he’s keeping the security deposit that no-good bum left.”

  Lexi laughed. “Did you show him the sketch? Is it him?”

  At the traffic light, Brodey glanced at her, grinning like an idiot because he’d made her laugh. “Yeah. It’s him.”

  As expected, her laughter died. Boom. Gone. “Lex, it’s okay. It’s part of the process. We’ll find him. Next stop is his lawyer. Somehow, their lawyers always know where to find these guys.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lexi’s voice mail was full.

  At least that was what the email from Nate, delivered via her phone, told her. Full. How many voice mails could that be? Scratch that. She did
n’t want to know. It would only stress her out. Spending the morning running around with Brodey, as easy as he was on the eyes, didn’t do her business a bit of good.

  He parked in a small lot adjacent to the three-story brick office building on the Far West Side of Chicago. “This is it. The lawyer is on the first floor. You coming in?”

  Returning calls should have been her priority. But how many times did a girl get to ride shotgun with a hot detective about to question someone? Forget the calls. “Yes. I’m going in. I’m curious. Do you have the sketch? I have extra copies in my briefcase.”

  “Grab one. Mine is crumpled from being in my pocket.” He grinned. “We don’t want to appear unprofessional after you’ve coiffed my hair.”

  Seriously, she could jump him. “Heavens no.”

  An icy parking lot and sidewalk made for a life-threatening expedition, and Lexi decided a good detective shouldn’t wear heels while on an assignment. They’d managed to enter the office, a first-floor unit badly in need of updating from its ’90s decor, and a woman in her sixties, also in need of updating, greeted them.

  Brodey plastered on another jump-worthy smile and Lexi’s toes curled.

  “Hello,” he said. “Is Henry available?”

  The woman eyed him, but shifted forward slightly, her body clearly submitting to the pressure of Brodey in full-on charm mode. “Did you have an appointment?”

  An appointment. Lexi glanced at the three metal-framed and extremely empty chairs lining the outside wall. The faux leather had enough dirt to seal a bleeding wound. She would, without question, remain standing.

  The good detective turned the wattage up on his smile and leaned in, meeting his new love slave halfway. “Do we need one?”

  Wicked, wicked boy.

  “Generally,” the receptionist said. “But let me see if he’s available. Who should I say is calling?”

  “Brodey Hayward. Chicago PD Homicide.”

  All along he’d been insisting on keeping his identity quiet, and suddenly he was practically flashing a badge.

  The receptionist hung up. “He’ll see you now, Detective.” The woman pointed to the door behind her. “Right through that door.”