Clawed: A Gin & Tonic Mystery (20 page)

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and found a new thing to worry about. “I’m going to have to vet every single damn client from now on, to make sure they’re for real. I’ll be too paranoid not to.”

“Probably.”

“And everyone who tries to hire us. Which we should have been doing anyway. No more taking whatever jobs come our way because they tug our heartstrings.”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced sideways at him. He was staring at the road, but there was just enough of a smile at the corner of his otherwise deadpan expression that she knew he was laughing at her.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. I also know that the next time someone comes and tugs our heartstrings, we’re going to leap before we look. But it’s nice that you’re worrying about it.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, and instead went back to looking out the window, watching the landscape go by. She should be driving—it was her rental car, after all—but she was so damn tired, she hadn’t bothered to argue when he held out his hands for the keys, back in the school parking lot. She’d grumble at his pushy alpha-male car-owning behavior some other time.

“We really need to start taking this seriously,” she said. “The investigations side, I mean. More seriously. Because obviously other people are. And Asuri said she was bragging on us to other agents. Okay, she didn’t exactly say bragging but she was. Said that we were higher visibility than we knew. So we need to up our game.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He wasn’t agreeing to anything, much less her not-yet-voiced plan to actually get them both licensed, but it was a start.

She frowned. “And we never got paid for this.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. And I’m going to have to dock my own pay for the time away from the bar, which sucks.”

“So you agree, at least, that we stop taking on jobs where we don’t get paid?”

He glanced at her then; she could feel his attention move from the road to her, then back again before he spoke. “Giving up our amateur status?” He waited a beat, and then when she didn’t say anything, went on. “You’re seriously thinking about getting a license, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Yes.” She very carefully did not look at him. “We want a better class of clients, we’re going to need to get official. And advertise.”

“Gin.” Her partner sounded pained, and she almost smiled. “Can it wait until we get home, at least?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Home sounded pretty damn good right then.

*    *    *

They were almost at the Seattle city limits when Tonica’s phone rang. She answered it for him, then put it on speakerphone.

Stacy’s voice came through, slightly muffled by the background noise of the bar. “You’re on your way home? Both—all three of you?”

“Yes. We should be there in less than an hour, assuming traffic isn’t too screwed up.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. But good. Because I’m about to kill Seth
and
your cat.”

They exchanged worried looks, and then Teddy, his voice apprehensive, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“With Seth? Just the usual. But your cat . . . We’re down staff, again.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know what happened
exactly
,” Stacy said, hedging, “but Tricia found a mouse in her apron pocket. Well, half a mouse, anyway. And quit, on the spot.”

“I would, too,” Ginny said, sotto voce.

“Curiously,” Stacy went on, “the next night, tips were back up to the usual level. Interesting, huh?”

“Interesting,” Teddy agreed, frowning.

“So, yeah, before you get all warm and fuzzy about Miss Penny’s hearth-guarding skills, you should be aware that she was pissed about all three of you gone on your little getaway.” Stacy laughed a little, and there was a touch of malicious humor that made Teddy cringe in anticipation. “And I mean that literally. You’re going to need a new keyboard for the computer. Also a new chair, because that’s where the other half of the mouse landed. I assume it was a mouse, anyway.”

Ginny covered her mouth, either from shock or to keep from laughing, he couldn’t tell. “Oh, she didn’t.”

“She did.” Stacy was
definitely
laughing. “Seriously, man. Your cat does not like being abandoned.”

There was a noise from the backseat, a weird sort of hurmmphing snort. Teddy said good-bye, heard the click on the speaker that indicated Stacy had hung up, then turned to squint at Ginny.

“Mallard, did your dog just snicker at me?”

*    *    *

In the back, Georgie shoved her muzzle under her paws to hide her grin, and pretended to be asleep.

Coda

A
re you insane? Yes, you are
. No, not insane, you’re bat-shit crazy.”

Ginny’s back went up, and her hackles rose, even though she knew he didn’t mean it—not entirely, anyway. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, there, partner.”

“Don’t call me partner. You’re not dragging me into this—not any deeper than you already have, anyway.” Tonica glared at her like she’d just announced her intention to swim naked through shark-infested waters, then turned on his heel and stalked into the back of the bar, muttering under his breath.

“Well, that went well,” Stacy said cheerfully. “You want a refill?”

“Thanks, yeah.” Ginny pushed her mug forward across the bar, watching as Stacy poured coffee into it. Mary’s had been open for about an hour, but it was a lazy Monday afternoon, and they were the only ones there yet.

Her phone was pushed the side, the sound set to mute, in case one of her clients had an emergency, but her attention was focused on the forms she had been looking over for the past half hour, until Tonica had come out and seen what she was doing. A private investigator’s license application, and an employment form for Oxendine Security and Investigations.

“You’re really gonna do it, huh?”

Stacy leaned across the bar, elbows folded, and Ginny made wide eyes at the other woman. “Have I ever not done something I said I was going to do?”

She’d gotten the four hours of training already, courtesy of a friend of Asuri’s, and a letter of recommendation from both him and Asuri, to Arthur Oxendine himself.

“It’s only part-time. Not even part-time. And mostly I’m going to be sitting behind a desk.” Oxendine had seen her resume and lit up like a Christmas tree. She’d always known the research part of researchtigations was the most important part.

“Going back to work for someone else, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up, Seth,” they both said in unison, and the old man walked by, cackling.

“It’s more like an apprenticeship,” Ginny said, probably for the hundredth time since she’d told them what she’d decided to do. “To learn the stuff we’ve been making up as we go along.”

“And then you’ll be official? Mallard Personal Services, Security, and Investigations?” Stacy pursed her lips and nodded, seemingly impressed.

“Well, more official, anyway. But no security work. Tonica’s the ex-bouncer here, not me.”

“Well, I think it’s cool that you’re getting officialized and everything,” the bartender said. “And I bet Teddy’ll do it next year, just because you did.”

Ginny smiled into her cup. She wasn’t going to take that bet. Especially since, once she was on her own, she could sign off on his application directly. He’d gripe and he’d drag his heels, but in the end, he wouldn’t be able to resist.

She felt something butt up against her ankles, and looked down at the cat, smiling. “And maybe we’ll get a license for you, too, Mistress Penny. And Georgie, too.”

“You’d better,” Stacy said, “since they’re basically the brains of your operation.”

“I’d be offended, except some days I think you’re right.” She reached down to pet the cat, and smiled fondly at the dog half dozing in her corner, curled under a table.

Then Stacy was looking up, over Ginny’s shoulder, and her expression changed from amused to stern. “I’m going to have to ask for some ID, please,” she said.

“Yeah, I don’t have any,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “Not anymore, and it wasn’t anything Tonica said he couldn’t see through, anyway.”

“Kim?” Ginny swiveled on the bar stool, and sure enough, Kim Siddig stood in front of her. Her hair was shorter than it had been three months ago, down in Portland, and she was wearing a skirt and jacket instead of jeans, but the face and the voice were familiar enough to recognize.

“Hi. I hope you don’t mind . . . Agent Asuri said . . .”

“It’s okay, Stace,” Ginny said, telling the bartender to stand down from ID inspection. “She’s not here to drink. Go get Tonica out of the storeroom, will ya?”

“She’s still too young to be in here,” Stacy muttered, but she went to the end of the bar and yelled—quietly—for Tonica to come up front.

“How’ve you been?”

“Okay.” Kim shuffled her feet, and looked up from under the bangs across her forehead. “Well, yeah, okay, I guess. I decided to go to U Wash after all; that’s why I’m up here. Orientation started this week. My folks were kinda freaked about me going far from home after . . . everything, but it’ll be okay.”

Ginny nodded. “That’s great, you’re going to do great. And staying close to home’s not so bad, after all.”

They didn’t mention the figure shadowing their conversation, the woman who’d kidnapped her—and still hadn’t been caught. Asuri had told Ginny—and she presumed had told Kim, too—that they had very little to worry about, that the woman would have larger problems than doubling back to bother them. But Ginny still sometimes had nightmares about watching Kim led off, and then
not
getting word that she was okay. She could only imagine what Kim—and her parents—went through.

“Kim?” Tonica came forward and took Kim’s hands in his own, a subtle kind of hug. “How are you doing?”

Penny head-butted Ginny, so she reached down and picked the cat up, holding her on her lap so the cat could see what was going on. From her corner, Georgie lifted her head, then when she saw that it was nothing exciting or relating to food, put her head back down.

“Anyway, my mom and I were in Seattle, and I asked agent Asuri if it would be okay if I . . . I thought about sending a letter but it didn’t seem right. So here I am.” She shrugged, and half smiled, as though she were gauging her welcome.

“You’re not hiring her, boss,” Stacy warned. “Not until she’s twenty-one. She shouldn’t even be
in
here. Sheesh, when did I become the grown-up here?”

“Yeah, yeah, give us fifteen minutes, and I’ll toss her out myself,” Tonica said, and pointed Kim at a stool. “You want a soda? What classes are you taking? You know not to drink anything at frat parties you didn’t open yourself, right?”

Kim’s gaze met Ginny’s, and they both started to laugh.

*    *    *

“Georgie?”

Mmmmm? The shar-pei looked up, and then lowered her head again. “Mmmmsleepy, Penny. Ginny made me go for a long walk this morning.”

“Who are they talking to?”

Georgie snuffled the air once, then her ear twitched, and her tail flicked once. “I know her. Who is she?”

Penny twitched her tail once in annoyance. “That’s what
I
was asking.”

“Oh.” The shar-pei sniffed again, then gave a canine shrug. The smell was familiar, and good, but lots of people petted her and told her she was a good girl. People came and went in the Noisy Place. The only ones who mattered were Ginny and Teddy. And the bar-girl and old man who smelled of food and smoke. And Penny. Always Penny.

Georgie put her head back down on her paws and went back to sleep.

So long as they were all here, everything was all right.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Acknowledgments, as ever, to the Fab Four: Barbara Ferrer, Kat Richardson, Aynjel Kaye, and Janna Silverstein, who from the very first worked so hard to get this New Yorker to fall in love with Seattle that now they’re stuck with me . . .

Also to Jennifer Heddle, Micki Nuding, Kiele Raymond, and Natasha Simons, who kept things moving even when I was stuck.

If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a team to raise a series. And that’s been mine.

© Elsa M. Ruiz, 2009

Also in the Gin & Tonic series

Doghouse

Fixed

Collared

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