Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

“The police have limited resources Ashton.” I didn’t like some of the local detectives, but most of them are good cops with too few resources and too many crimes to solve. One of the locals used to be my best friend, hell I spent time as a local cop. “They do their best,” I said, not sure if I believed it myself.

“I know you worked hard for that lady’s family, to find justice for her,” she responded. “That’s what I need now, someone who will try hard even though it seems hopeless.” She began to cry. I came around the desk and handed her a tissue. Ashton reached out and clutched me as she sobbed. She really had my attention now. My brain was screaming as I tried to resist the firmness of her breasts against me, the suppleness of her body in my hands. I didn’t reciprocate her clinch, but it took all my willpower, No, I didn’t embrace her or steal a kiss. Instead, I said, “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s wrong,” as I gently pushed her away.

She took another tissue from me and slumped into the client’s chair. She took a few moments to compose herself then looked up, forced a smile, crossed her tanned legs, and said, “I’m sorry. The last week has been a nightmare. I need your help.”

“What’s so serious?” I said not taking my eyes off those long legs.

She sobbed for a few more minutes and when the water works slowed, I repeated my question.

“What’s so serious?”

“It’s my brother; he’s been arrested for murder. I know he didn’t do it,” she said as she began to sob. “He’s my twin,” she said, “and I know him better than any living person. He couldn’t do this. He loved his wife.”

“Relationships make people do funny things. You never know …”

“I know,” Ashton insisted. “The police and his lawyer won’t listen to me. They’ve made up their minds, but a twin knows. That’s why I need you.”

“When did this happen?” I asked taking out my notebook.

“They found Stephanie about ten days ago. He’d been out of town and they arrested him a few days after he flew back.”

“What’s your brother’s name,” I said taking out my notebook.

“Cary, Cary Hunt, they say he stabbed his wife. I know you worked for my father, but I assumed…”

Damn, General Hunt’s daughter. Crap. I never imagined she was his daughter.

I don’t follow the news. I figure if something happens I need to know about, someone, usually Roscoe, will tell me, but I’d screwed the pooch by missing this little current event. I wondered why General Hunt hadn’t called me. Cary Hunt, the guy maybe having an affair and maybe being blackmailed had turned into Cary Hunt arrested for murder.

“You’re General Hunt’s daughter? Why didn’t you say so?” I demanded. “Why didn’t he call me? Did he send you?”

“He didn’t send me exactly, but please, you have to help,” the desperation in her voice dripped like dew on a muggy morning.

“OK, OK, I get it.” I held up one hand to stop her. “I’ll take the case.”

She reached down to her tan bag on the floor and took out a folded manila envelope. She held it by one end and tossed it on the desk.

I picked it up, hefting the weight. It was cash, a lot of cash. “I can’t guarantee the results Ashton,” I said with my hand on top of the envelope. “I follow the evidence and facts are the facts. If he’s guilty…”

“But he’s not,” she interrupted.

I held up one hand and continued firmly, “but if he’s guilty I’m not going to make something up to get him off. You have to understand, I don’t work that way.”

“There’s $10,000 there and more if you need it. I know you’ll do what’s right. You did for that lady and you will for Cary too,” she said. She was calmer but still riled up.

I swallowed hard. Ten large was more than I’d pulled down on one case, except for the general, that is. I had my hand on more of the old man’s cash. I wondered if she’d look as flushed in bed, but let the thought pass. “Who’s his lawyer,” I asked as I started to take notes.

I asked questions for about thirty minutes. She gave me the skinny on the case and a rundown on her brother’s mouthpiece. She looked drained and finally said, “I’m sorry I just don’t know any more.”

“That’s OK I’ll check things out. Call me if you think of anything else. Sometimes it's the little, seemingly unimportant things that make a difference,” I offered. I waited to see if my words had broken through. “Here’s my card,” I said taking one from the holder on my desk. “If you think of anything or if something happens, call me. Call me at any time. Do you understand? Oh, is it all right if I call your father? I feel I owe him.”

She took the card and looked at it as if it was made of gold. She nodded and said, “I understand. Yes, call him. Thank you Mr. Everett…aha…Mac.”

I hoped I could come through for this kid. Kid, an hour ago I’d been watching her come up the steps wondering if I could score. Based on the way she went into the clinch and the dew in her eyes, I knew I could, but now I was feeling paternalistic.
Well done, Mac.

“What’s the best way to reach you?” I asked.

“I’m staying at a friend’s condo when I’m not at my dad’s, here’s my private cell number,” she said as she jotted the number on a business card of her own. “Use this number.”

She handed me her card and I was impressed. It read Ashton Hunt, Senior Associate Leopold & Leopold New York City.

“A New York lawyer?”

“Don’t be all that impressed. It just means I make a lot of money and live in the world’s most expensive city.”

“I’m not impressed, just disappointed that I can’t use my lawyer jokes on you.”

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“Sure, sure Ashton.”

Oh, that was smooth
, I thought.

“Mac, do you think there’s any hope?” she asked, finally looking up from my card.

“I don’t know. We have to answer some basic questions. Why was his wife killed? Who would benefit? Is there a way to show it wasn’t a crime of passion? We'll figure it out together, you and me.”

I smiled my most sincere smile trying to comfort her, but I suspected it wasn’t nearly enough. Her twin brother’s life was on the line and they obviously had a connection. She rose, composed once again. I came around the desk and offered my hand. She looked at it for a moment then stepped forward to embrace me.

“My brother’s life is in your hands.” She whispered into my chest. “Thank you, Mac.”

I caught her eyes and looked deep. There was no guile there, only worry and pain, but she was hiding something. I ignored the thought as I returned the embrace tentatively, trying not to break my rule about getting involved with clients, but damn. With her head buried in my chest I said, “Try not to worry. We’ll work things out.”

She held me a moment longer and when she lifted her head I could see the tears moistening those pale green eyes. Damn she was beautiful and she was waiting for my kiss. I stepped back and then around her to the door. I felt the pulse pounding in my temples and much lower as I said good-bye and told her I would be in touch. She left without another word.

Her perfume lingered long after she was gone. The thoughts I’d had gave me pause and made me shudder, but I went straight to work. I made a quick list of calls and questions. First on my list was General Hunt. Norris said the general was out on the lake for the day. He promised to have the general call when he returned.

My next call was to Warden Barber Esq. I didn’t know Mr. Barber personally, but his reputation as lawyer to the elite, was common knowledge. The general had hired the best money could buy. I hoped their choice of PIs was as well calculated.

“Law Offices, may I help you,” the efficient sounding receptionist said in a honey dipped southern drawl.

I explained who I was and that Cary Hunt’s sister had hired me to look into the case. The woman politely put me on hold. While I listened to classical piano music, I looked at Barber’s website. His list of clients was impressive. It included politicians, celebrities, and businessmen from several states. I was about to hang up when a young sounding man came on the line.

“This is Alan. May I help you,” he said.
So much for the receptionist’s efficiency.
I explained who I was again and got silence. Then the twerp said, “Mr. Everett, we have our own staff of investigators. We will not need your services. Thank you for calling.”

“Look Alan. I called for Mr. Barber. Ashton Hunt has retained me. I work for her. I’m calling as a courtesy to let your boss know I will be nosing around his case, so you see I don’t give a rat’s ass what or who you have on staff. Am I making myself clear, Alan?”

“Perfectly, sir,” he replied coolly.

“So are you going to put me through to the boss or not?” I said.

“Just a moment, sir,” he said and I was on hold again. The piano music played longer this time and again as I was about to hang up when a jovial voice came on the line.

“Mr. Everett, Ward Barber here, I’ve just gotten off the phone with Ashton Hart, ah, Hunt and she informs me she has great confidence in you,” he said. He was good, the consummate politician. “I told Ms. Hunt we had things well in hand, but she’s insisting on using your services.”

“That’s why I called, Mr. Barber,” I said.

“Call me Ward, please. We’re going to be working together, after all. If this works out maybe I can throw a little work your way.”

Trying to butter me up with a vague promise was third rate, but I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Errors have been made, others will be blamed, was this guy’s MO.

“OK, Ward, but just so we get some things straight, I’m working for Ms. Hunt. I’m calling you as a courtesy.”

“Understood. I must admit I’m a bit surprised, but she does seem an impetuous girl.” His tone was more than a little condescending. It was downright insulting. Ashton might be a lot of things, but none of them involved impetuous or girl.

“She came to me, Ward,” I said. “I’ve accepted her retainer and I’ve gone to work. I warned her, the chips would fall where they may. Can we cooperate or do I work my side of the street and take what information I develop to the cops? It’s up to you.”

“I’m all about getting information and getting it first Mr. Everett so yes, we can cooperate. When can we meet?” I didn’t like his new tone either. It was too ‘used car salesman’ for me.

“Ms. Hunt has given me some names to check out,” I said lying through my teeth, but not knowing how else to stall. “I promised her a quick turnaround. Let’s meet at the end of the week, sooner if I get something significant. That all right?”

“Perfectly all right. I would like to send you a copy of our investigative file,” he said. “I can send it by messenger. What’s your address?”

I knew he was just trying to get Intel on me, ‘What’s your address’, really? I was born at night, but not last night. “I’ll come by your office in the morning to pick it up,” I said. “I know your address.”

He didn’t miss a beat and said, “Very well Mr. Everett. I look forward to meeting you.”

“Sure thing, see you tomorrow,” I said and hung up.

The phone call worried me. Ward Barber hadn’t asked a single question or said anything positive. Maybe Ashton was right thinking everyone had given up on her brother.

I called my Army buddy Roscoe. He had his finger on the pulse of everything in the area, especially if it was crooked or under the cop’s radar, but I got his voice mail. I left a short message and hoped he’d call soon. I called Marco and let him know to put feelers out again on the Hunts. I told him to put the jailhouse grapevine to work and to get me anything he could on my new client, Ashton Hunt. My last call was to Sgt. Stan Lee at the Orange County Sheriff’s Office Metro Division. Stan and I were together in the sandbox they called Iraq. We worked together a long time and he saved my ass more than once. The day he drove over the IED that killed his driver I pulled him from his burning Humvee, held on to him in the medevac chopper and nearly got myself court martialed for threatening some Medical Corps Major who wouldn’t look at the man bleeding in my arms. Stan went home, recovered from his wounds and rejoined the sheriff’s office. I was stuck in the sandbox, then the UAE, then Germany for two more years. The Army needed trained Intel people, so they said, but as time went on, they didn’t listen to what their Intel people had to say. Politics were more important. When I finally got out, Stan helped me get a job at the Sheriff’s Office, but while he moved up the ladder, I couldn’t take their BS. I had a couple run ins with the brass, got myself arrested, and quit before I was fired. Stan and I hadn’t stayed in touch. He’d gone out on a limb for me and I flopped as a deputy sheriff.

“Mac Everett,” Stan said when he answered the phone. “It’s been a while. How’s it going?” Stan’s voice was neutral, none of the animosity I’d expected. At least he didn’t hang up on me.

“I’m doing good Stan, how about you?” It was good to hear his voice. I hadn’t spoken to him in forever. I hated that the way I left the Sheriff’s Office had come between us. Maybe enough water had passed under that bridge.

“So to what do I owe the honor, Mac?” The hint of suspicion in his voice put me on guard. “You need something I guess and you have the balls to call me?”

“No foreplay any more Stan? Your wife must love that,” I chuckled.

Stan didn’t laugh.