Think Before You Speak (7 page)

But Reggie’s blackmail situation didn’t
involve homicide. Therefore, it wasn’t one of Duncan’s current
investigations, so asking a few simple questions couldn’t be
misconstrued as interference this time. Therefore, any threats to
throw me in jail would be about as empty as a natural blond.

Oops. Apologies to my best friend.

For a busy homicide detective, Duncan sat
firmly behind his desk every time I stuck my mug into his sector,
busily pecking away on his keyboard like a starving woodpecker.
Their IT department had to go through countless replacements every
month at the rate he pounded on the poor thing. Even with the air
conditioning blasting away with blessed cool air, the detective’s
waxy dome gleamed with perspiration. Perhaps typing was his workout
du jour
.

I sauntered up in my daisy dukes and plopped
onto the corner of his desk with my newest pair of Tony Lamas
dangling in full view. The tapping stopped as Duncan checked out
the latest morsel – namely my shapely legs after all that walking
around San Antonio. It’s a firmly established principal that God
made men visual creatures, and I had no problem using my feminine
wiles on occasion to full advantage – no matter how many showers
I’d have to take after enduring Detective Dingbat’s mental
undressing.

Duncan’s perusal finally made it up to my
face. “If it ain’t Nancy Drew. Don’t tell me you’ve found another
dead body.”

“I’ve never
found
a dead body,” I
retorted. “I almost
became
one.”

“Minor detail.”

“Not to me.”

“Which brings us to the question of why
you’re interrupting my busy afternoon and preventing me from going
home before midnight.”

I made a pointed effort of glancing around
his desk at the various piles of paperwork, a few greasy sandwich
wrappers and empty coffee cups thrown in for good measure. No doubt
a donut box hid somewhere among the debris. “Looks more like you’re
attempting to write the next bestselling crime thriller.”

That got me an exasperated
humph
. “Not
too far off. With all the CYA necessary these days, more than half
the job anymore is writing reports.”

“That must suck,” I said.

“By the fathoms,” he admitted. “Which brings
me back around to why you’re here. Doing more
legwork
for
the Ranger Corp?”

“Ha-ha, no,” I quipped. “Blackmail.”

“What’d Zeke do this time for you to threaten
him with blackmail?”

“Nothing. I’m talking me.”

A smart-alecky retort died on his lips.
“Wait. Hold on a minute. Someone had the audacity to blackmail
you
?”

I snorted. “Like I have anything worth
blackmailing for.”

The grimy gaze took another whirl over me.
“That’s not what I hear.”

My vision narrowed as I offered up my best
evil eye – which probably came across more like trying to stifle a
fart or something. Seemed the church crowd weren’t the only ones
who liked to gossip and rumor-monger when given the opportunity.
Law enforcement was susceptible too – at the local, state,
and
federal levels, if my experience was any indication.

“I’m talking hypotheticals for now.” I had
every intention of keeping my big mouth shut when it came to the
specifics of Reggie’s situation. After all, I’d promised.

Duncan spun around to his computer. “Well
not
hypothetically speaking, this is homicide. If you want
to talk to someone about blackmail, you’ll need to start with the
robbery unit.”

“Don’t you all go through the same process at
the academy?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then you’ve gone through some basic
informational training about blackmail, right?”

That earned me a grumble with a few choice
words thrown in not fit for feminine ears.

I pressed my advantage. “Haven’t you had some
homicide cases that involved blackmail or extortion?”

“Look, Nancy Drew,” Duncan said, whirling his
chair around again and about giving
me
vertigo. “I’ve got
things to do, and they don’t have anything to do with
blackmail…yet.”

“Just answer one question.” I crossed my legs
to better advantage. Talk about your legwork. “Please?”

Duncan sucked in a breath before huffing out
like a deflating balloon. “Okay, one.”

I leaned forward, catching a glimpse of a
familiar name on the detective’s computer screen. What the…?

Focus, Vic
.

“Why would one person attempt to blackmail
another?”

“Any number of reasons,” he returned, turning
the monitor away from my line of vision. “Most common would be to
cover up a sexual indiscretion, drug use, criminal business
practices…”

“I’m talking the blackmail
er
not the
blackmail
ee
,” I clarified.

“That’s easy,” Duncan said without missing a
beat. “Either the blackmailer is desperate for money or they want
revenge.”

Gee, that sounded a lot like divorce
proceedings where one spouse took the other to the cleaners.
Considering what I knew about my dad’s proclivities, that’d
definitely be the case if my mom ever listened to me and stepped up
to the plate.

Duncan’s information gave me a more concrete
place to start. Now if only Reggie’s blackmailer would give us a
hint as to his or her reasoning, we’d be able to put this behind
him before the weekend, ya think?

Nah, I didn’t really expect so either.

***

Wednesday nights were a little slower pace,
providing more time to mingle and talk to patrons. Interact with
both newcomer and old. Did I also mention it’s just me and Grady on
those nights?

Last week had shown that our camaraderie
contained flickering signs of life, but it was likely things would
never be quite the same between us. Eventually we’d settle into a
new routine – I hoped.

As I bent over to grab a couple of cold brews
from the refrigerated case, I felt rather than heard his approach
over the thrum of music. Thigh brushed my butt as I stood and
looked into warm chocolate depths. Without taking my gaze from his,
I popped off the bottle tops with a satisfying spit and hiss. The
edge of Grady’s mustache tilted as he took them from me.

“I’ll deliver those,” he said, the husky
voice rumbling through to touch me all the way to my toes.

Odd. Grady’s sexy voice used to touch me in a
whole different area. Somewhere north of my knees and south of my
waistline. Maybe my trip with Nick had satiated me
too
much.

“The couple at that table over there,” I
offered.

As the boss sauntered away to deliver the
libations, a familiar group walked up and sat down along the
bar.

I smiled. “Hey, it’s my favorite trio. Things
One, Two, and Three.”

Cornflower-blue eyes beneath flattened amber
hair widened. “What happened to Radioman?”

“Oh sorry, Things One and Two and
Radioman
,” I said with a wink.

“That’s better,” Radioman responded with a
wide grin as I slid a bottle of Sam Adams onto the bar.

Satiated too much? Radioman’s smile forced me
to rethink that thought.

“Which Thing am I?” the dark-headed lawyer
asked. “One or Two?”

Their balding banker buddy just snorted
derisively and thumbed Radioman. “Why does he get a cool nickname
while we’re relegated to a stupid Dr. Seuss moniker?”

“Because,” I started with a bat of lashes,
“he comes to see me more often.”

“Yeah?” Banker Boy challenged. “Well unlike
him, we both have
real
jobs.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the
lawyer challenged, taking the scotch straight from my hands and
throwing it back like a shot, ice and all. “I get to spend my days
arguing with people.”

“And you like that shit?” Banker Boy
asked.

“You forget, I come from Italian roots. Other
people pay me to do what comes naturally.” He held up the empty
glass. “Can I get another one?”

“Italian, huh?” I asked intrigued, sliding
the double Jack and Coke toward the banker before pouring another
scotch for my lawyer pal.

“With a little Scots and Irish thrown in
somewhere along the line. But until you come up with a cooler name
than Thing One or Two, how about calling me Seth?”

“Nice to officially meet you Seth,” I said
grasping his outstretched hand, sending a tingle up my arm. Maybe I
wasn’t so satiated after all. “So how did you decide to become a
lawyer?”

“A lawyer is like a Marine – the few, the
proud.”

“More like the blowhard, the cocky,” Radioman
offered with a grin. “The one who likes to hear himself talk and
talk…”

“This coming from the guy who gets paid to
talk on the radio,” I interrupted with a thumb directed his way and
received a wink in return. Yeah, that earlier satiated thought was
officially debunked when my legs turned a tad noodley.

“Where do you get that lawyers are few?”
Banker Boy asked. “Colleges are spitting out so many lawyers every
year, I think the average in the United States is like one for
every seven hundred people…men, women,
and
children
included.”

“That’s a lot of attorneys,” I said, joining
them for a round with three fingers of Jack.

“That may be true,” Seth acknowledged with a
narrowing of eyes. “But ask yourself, how many of them are actually
practicing
?”

“Touché,” I cried, clinking my shot glass
against Seth’s. “Our Italian friend just won another argument.”

“Touché is French,” the attorney corrected.
“Not Italian.”

“Work with me,” I countered. “I’m trying to
root for your side here.”

The
practicing
attorney stood and took
a bow, eyes connecting with mine containing a hint of humor – and
interest – hidden within the gleam. As the ruckus died down, I made
my way down the bar to take care of other patrons while Banker Boy
stepped away to take a phone call. I needed some time to think what
other names I could come up with besides Things One and Two. The
moniker for Radioman had come to me so effortlessly upon my first
meeting of the Three Musketeers.

Seth and his love of debate got me thinking
about Ranger Zeke and our constant repartee when we’d hung out
during my attempts at clearing Bobby’s name of murder. Thinking of
Zeke made me think of the weeks of unrequited sexual frustration
while sleeping on his couch. Thinking of sex made me think of Nick.
Nick made me think of San Antonio.

San Antonio brought my churning thoughts
around to Reggie.

Even with the suspicions I’d carried for
years, seeing my dear friend in a whole new light had been jarring.
Reggie was good at the role he played so effortlessly before the
public, and neither the past nor the present-day façade changed the
way I saw him. He was a good man. A good friend.

But blackmail? The
how
was somewhat
obvious. If my heated past still haunting me after all these years
was any indicator of humanity’s ability to hold a grudge, then
Reggie’s juvie record getting out portended an approaching disaster
of epic proportions in both his personal and public life. His
lucrative design business could crash and burn faster than a
Formula One race car driven by my best friend’s genteel granny. The
who
and
why
remained the biggest questions.

It had to be someone with ties either to
Reggie’s past or someone who had access to those criminal records.
Zeke again came to mind, but I quickly discounted the notion. The
Ranger might be a lying, cheating bastard when it came to fidelity
among the female persuasion, but he took his work-related duties
quite seriously. No way would he ever stoop so low as to sully the
Ranger code.

And it wasn’t like he needed the money. The
family ranch kept the Taylors sitting pretty for the cowpoke clan.
Zeke prided himself on taking care of his own bills, but he’d still
inherit that sprawling spread someday. With his father’s poor
health bringing Zeke back from Austin several years ago, that
responsibility had the potential to pass to the next generation
sooner rather than later.

So scratch one Zeke Taylor from the list of
suspects. That left the new girlfriend, a nosey client, or someone
from Reggie’s past who’d put two-and-two together and gotten my
friend in their sights. Starting tomorrow, I needed to touch base
with Reggie to find out exactly
when
this had all started,
how
this had all started, and to get my hands on the
blackmail notes.

One thing I’d learned when last helping out a
friend? No one was safe from suspicion, which meant everyone was a
suspect.

Including my mom, I realized with a shudder.
With my dad behind her credit card bill, I could definitely see the
sperm donor using blackmail as a tool to gain leverage over
someone. After all, he’d proven long ago he had no qualms about
seeing how low he could go – and I had the photographic evidence to
prove it.

Wait a minute. Did that make me a blackmailer
too?

Don’t answer that.

The hold Han had placed me on extended past
five minutes, so I took another moment to refill my coffee cup a
third time. With my mind churning over Reggie’s predicament, I’d
awakened much earlier than anticipated this morning. As a
bartender, I’m late to bed and late to rise, and if I see anything
before ten o’clock in the morning, bitchy mode kicks into play.
There’ve been many a man on the receiving end of my
too-early-morning wrath. Unfortunately for him, today it was
Reggie’s assistant.

When he finally found the time to return to
the line, I thought the built-up pressure was gonna send my
eyeballs popping out of my head like in my favorite horror movie.
In this case though, it was probably more like too much
caffeine.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bohanan,” Han responded in
his nasal tone. “But Reginald still isn’t answering his phone.”