Agatha Page 12

  He laughs and it’s a hard, callous laugh. I hate it. I hate everything about this conversation. It hurts. It hurts everywhere. Especially my heart. This whole thing was a ruse. A ruse to get stupid, pathetic Agatha to show him where that money is hidden. Well, ha! The joke’s on him because I have no idea where that money is.

  “You hired me to do a job. I’m doing it. I don’t need you dictating how it’s done. I’ve still got almost forty days to—”

  He doesn’t finish. The other person, most likely Drake, must be talking.

  “Let me do my job. I’ll call you when I’ve found your money.”

  Yep. It’s got to be Drake.

  I hear Ian mutter, “Fuck.”

  I move away from the door. Scampering back to the kitchen, I pretend to pour our coffee, humming as I do. Humming is difficult because all I want to do is throw his ass out and then throw myself onto my bed, so I can cry in peace.

  When he comes up behind me, he wraps his cold, dead hands around me, kissing the back of my neck. I shiver but it’s not in a good way. “Thanks for making the coffee,” I squeak. “How do you take yours?” Like I give two shits.

  “Black.”

  Like his heart.

  “Welp! Here you go, sir.” I start to hand him the cup but hold it back. “Wait, I bet you’d like it to go, right? It’s late. You probably need to get to work. Do you want me to drive you or is Jason picking you up?” I set both cups down. “Let me run in and get dressed. I’ll drive you.”

  I haven’t stopped talking and he hasn’t said a word. Racing into my bedroom, I pull open the drawer that houses my loungewear. Sliding on a pair of black yoga pants, I move to my closet to get a sweatshirt. I’m dressed in less than two minutes. I run a brush through my hair quickly and pull it back into a messy bun. Searching for my glasses, I slide those on along with a pair of flip-flops that are sitting by the door. Bam. Ready to go. Lickety-split.

  When I step back into the main room, I search for my purse and keys. Ian drove my car so I need to find where he left my keys before we can go. I’m about to ask him where they are when I notice he’s looking through the things on my table. The place I set up as my investigation station. Ooh, that rhymes. I like the sound of it. What I don’t like is him snooping through my things. “What are you doing?”

  Without looking up, he asks, “Did you have your laptop open last night?”

  “No.” I haven’t used that for several days. I’ve been crazy-busy.

  He turns to face the front door. Then he moves to stand next to the couch as he stares at his phone. Turning back toward me, he uses his arm to point toward the table. “Did you move the table?”

  “No. Ian. What’s this about?”

  He mumbles or hums something, returning to the table. When he begins to lift things off the table one at a time, I can’t take it. “Look. I think you need to go.”

  “Hm hmm. Jason’s on his way.”

  Thank goodness.

  He’s still moving everything on my table, setting things on the chair after he’s looked at it from all sides. Even the papers. “Ian?”

  “Shh,” he says rudely.

  When he picks up my Aggie Palmer nameplate it’s the last straw. I’ve had just about enough. “No, you shush. This is my house.” Reaching out, I yank the object out of his hand so hard it slips out of mine and flies backwards, hitting the wall. I look back and see the silver plate has separated from the wooden base. “See what you made me do?” I stomp over to it. Bending down, I pick up the plate, then the wooden base. As I do, I spy small wires poking out from inside the hollowed-out wood base. “What’s this?”

  Ian is next to me in a flash. “Let me see.”

  Yeah, I know I’m mad, sad, and all that, but I’m out of my league with whatever this thing is.

  Holding out his palm, he asks. “May I see the metal plate?”

  What does it matter? I hand it over and watch as he holds it up to the light. The plate is opaque, solid—except for the dot on the “i” in ‘Aggie’. It’s not solid. It’s a tiny, pin-size hole. A hole with light shining through it. I watch as he sets that down, so he can resume checking out whatever is inside the base.

  “Ian? What is it?”

  “A camera.”

  “A what?” I screech. “A camera?”

  Turning to me, he looks into my eyes. “Similar to a nanny-cam. Agatha, tell me about this thing. Was this on your desk at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Did you buy it?”

  “No. It was a gift.”

  “From who?”

  I shrug. “Secret Santa. I don’t know who gave it to me.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Four or five years ago.”

  “So, this was on your desk at work. It’s been there for four or five years?”

  Duh, I just said that. I nod slowly. “Yes.”

  “This,” he points at the tiny camera, “is how they knew when you were at your desk and when you weren’t.”

  “They?”

  “Whoever took the money.”

  Okay, that reminds me. “You just told whoever you were talking to that you were trying to trick me. Are you saying you believe me?”

  Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he clicks some keys. Turning the screen to face me, I see a grainy image of me and Ian kissing. I stare at the image. I recognize my living room, my sofa. My front door is in the background of picture. “I don’t understand. Why do you have this?”

  I vaguely remember a kiss in the last night. Was that from then? If so, “How?”

  Ian points to the nameplate. “Whoever has control of that thing took a photo of us and sent it to Drake. I had to say those things to him to protect you.” He pauses. “And me.”

  “Is that thing still working?” I move closer to the wooden base. “So, they’ve been watching me? In my home?” Shit, I’ve walked around naked more than once. Don’t judge. I live alone. “Is there audio?” I like to sing. I can’t sing. Like at all. It’s enough some creeper saw me naked. If they heard me too, that’d be too embarrassing.

  “Good question.” Picking the name plate back up he asks, “I assume it works using WiFi and Bluetooth. Do you have wireless internet?”

  I shake my head. “My neighbor does.” I know I look guilty. I should. “I borrow his now and then.”

  “Honey, you need a secure WiFi connection, but we can talk about that later.” He turns, looking for something. Ah, his shoes. He slips them on and then holds up the wooden object. “Can I take this with me?”

  “Are you going to show Jason?”

  “Nope. Taking it to Phoenix. Some of our tech people will have to take a look at it. I’d like to know if there’s audio too. If so, they’ve heard us talking. We could have shown our hand.”

  Our hand. Our hand. “So,” I pause. “Was that Drake on the phone?”

  Running his free hand through his salt and pepper hair, he says, “It was.”

  “He sent you the photo?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did he get it?”

  “He said someone sent it to him.”

  “Well, if you ask me, that’s where you need to start. Find out who sent him the picture. Then you’ve got your man.” I pause. “Or woman.”

  I watch as his face lights up. “That’s absolutely right, Agatha.” Moving to me, he wraps one arm around my neck. and pulls me in. He kisses me lightly and then steps back. “You should be a private dick. You’ve got the knack.”

  I slap him on his chest and step away from him. “So, what you said to Drake about me? It’s not true?”

  “Honey.” He steps closer. “It’s not true. I like you.”

  What does that even mean? I like peanut butter. It’s like the most mundane thing you can say to someone you just slept with. If he says the word friend in the next minute, I may punch him right in the kisser. I remain silent in the hopes he elaborates.

  Ian’s closing in on me. He slides his hand again
st my neck again until he’s cupping my cheek. It feels good.

  “I like you a lot. I liked what we did last night. But…”

  Oh, here we go. “But?”

  “But, it’s complicated.”

  “Uh, huh.” I step away from his touch. Holding up my palm in the universal halting gesture, I say, “Right. Complicated. Say no more.” I walk into my kitchen and search my drawer. Finding what I need, I hand Ian a plastic Ziploc baggie.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Evidence.” I nod down at the spy camera.

  “Right,” he chuckles.

  Okay. Now he’s laughing at me? Making fun? “Well, this was fun, but I need to get on with my day.” My life. I move toward my bedroom. “You can show yourself out, Mr. Burke.”

  “Agatha.” He says my name like it’s a statement, not a question. That means I don’t need to answer. I move into my bedroom, shutting the door and locking the knob. Flopping onto my bed, I listen. Minutes later, I hear the front door open. “Lock up behind me, Agatha,” he says loudly enough for me to hear.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Complicated,” I say only loud enough for me to hear.

  The front door shuts and I take the time I need to feel sorry for myself. In case you were wondering, it took hours. Hours and some double chocolate chip ice cream, and a heart to heart phone call with my sister, Lainie. She always knows best.

  Chapter 22

  Ian

  When I step out the door of Agatha’s house, Jason’s parked on the street. The expression on his face says all I need to know about Jason’s mood. He’s pissed. I texted him early this morning to come get me. If he’s angry about that, wait until he hears he has to drive me back to Flagstaff to get my car. I chuckle to myself as I open the door. Maybe the Bluetooth camera we found this morning will improve his mood.

  “Thanks for picking me up, man.”

  “Uh, huh. I don’t even want to know what the fuck you’re up to man. That right there,” he nods at Agatha’s house. “Is a bad idea.”

  I know.

  Holding up the baggie that contains the hollow wooden stand, I say, “Look what I found.”

  Jason takes the camera from me, pulling the bag tight, so he can see the contents. He moves it around until he is able to see the entire device. Looking up at me he chuckles, “This is nanny-cam shit.” He smirks, adding, “Start from the beginning.”

  It takes us until we’ve stopped for breakfast and we’re halfway to Flagstaff for us to work through the entire scheme.

  “It’s so simple it’s genius,” says Jason as he pulls alongside my car. “Agatha’s right, in a sense. If I can figure out who sent the picture, we’ve got our man. Or woman. However,” he pauses. He’s about to blow Agatha’s theory out of the water. “This person isn’t stupid. They would have sent the image from someplace either untraceable or from somewhere public, like the library.”

  “Do it anyway. See if you can find out where it came from. In the meantime, I’m heading to Phoenix to see if Basil can find out more about this.” Holding up the camera, I open his door to step out.

  “Basil’s a twat,” he grumbles.

  Leaning back into the car, I ask Jason. “Someone had to order this thing. Can you see if you can find out who sold this specific device?”

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Why would you drive two hours to Phoenix, then over two hours back to Page when you could sleep in your own bed in your own home?”

  I provide my own smirk. “I’ve got my reasons.”

  “You and your pussy. I swear, I can’t believe how often you get it, old man.”

  I don’t bother responding. When he referred to Agatha as mere pussy, I wanted to punch his smug-ass face. I slam his car door and walk to mine. The sooner I get this to Basil, the sooner I can be back to check on Agatha. She shouldn’t be left alone.

  At precisely eight o’clock, I’m standing on Agatha’s front porch. I’ve knocked several times but to no avail. Her house is dark, but her car is here. “Where are you, Agatha?” Only one way to find out.

  Me: Agatha? Are you home?

  Agatha: Nope.

  Me: Where are you?

  Agatha: Out

  Out? On a date? No, she wouldn’t be on a date. We talked about this. Right? Shit, I hate this. This feeling that I need to know what she’s doing and hoping she’s not doing it with another man.

  Me: You’re a very frustrating woman. I’m standing on your porch.

  Agatha: I’m out. I’ll talk to you tomorrow or the day after.

  Or the day after? She’s blowing me off. And not in a good way.

  Me: Sure. Talk to you tomorrow. I’ve got some questions for you so the sooner the better.

  Agatha: …

  She’s about to type something so I wait.

  Agatha: Breakfast?

  Me: I’ll bring bagels.

  Agatha: Yum. C U then.

  I check my watch again, 8:05. I drove like a bat out of hell to get the camera to Basil. He couldn’t see a microphone as part of the device which is good. The bad news? He didn’t think he’d find much because it’s a commonly-used small camera found easily online. But he said he’d take a look anyway, for me. After that, I went to my place, showered, packed up some clean clothes, and jumped back into my car. I’ve eaten only fast food today, so I feel like shit. That’s why I picked up grilled chicken salads for Agatha and myself. I guess I should have told her I’d be back tonight. I assumed she’d be here.

  Sliding my phone back out, I send a text to Jason.

  Me: Wanna get a beer?

  Jason: Hellz yeah, old man

  He needs to stop calling me that. I’m getting a complex.

  Me: Where?

  Jason: Murphy’s. You in town now?

  Me: Yep

  Jason: Meet you there in ten.

  Me: Yep

  I slide the phone back into my pocket. Holding up the bag with the food, I’m tempted to leave it on her front step for her to eat but that could draw some unwelcome critters to her doorstep, so I toss it into the backseat of my sedan. If I’m going to Murphy’s, I’m eating wings. I’ll eat healthy tomorrow.

  Chapter 23

  Agatha

  “Aggie, there’s an old guy staring at you.”

  I look at Keely, then follow her line of sight toward the bar. As discreetly as possible, I look to find that, in fact, a man is staring at me. A man I know intimately. “Ian,” I grumble. What’s he doing here? Following me, no doubt. The man is a certifiable stalker.

  Leaning over to whisper to Keels I say, “I know him.”

  “He’s kind of hot for an old guy.” Keely again. “Um…”

  “He’s not that old.” And he is, in fact, hot. “Too bad he’s…”

  “Too bad I’m what?” asks the sexy, smirky man.

  “I was about to tell you that he was walking this way, Aggs.” Keely says, looking contrite.

  I’m not going to finish what I started to say. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Complicated,” I say without looking up. Instead I sip the golden beer from my glass. Sarcasm. It’s the best.

  Ignoring said sarcasm, Ian says, “You could have told me you were here.”

  “Why? I’m out with my sisters. Girls’ night. Enjoying a nice local brew. Speaking of…nice seeing you, Ian. Have a good night.”

  He chuckles, and it makes my entire body tingle. Stop it, you damn traitorous body.

  “Who are you?” asks Andrew, Sadie’s boyfriend.

  I guess it’s not technically girls’ night, but you know what I mean.

  Ian looks at me expectantly. So, I give him what he wants. “This is Ian Burke. He’s working for H&S to find the money I supposedly stole.”

  Ian smiles at Andrew and nods to my sister, Sadie. “I’ve gained five pounds thanks to your baked goods.”

  Sadie chuckles. “Good. Serves you right for investigating my sweet sister.” Sadie turns away, movi
ng back to her seat.

  “Ian Burke?” asks Lainie, taking charge. “How can we help you today?”

  “I just stopped by to say hello.”

  “Well, hellooooo ladies,” says another man as he throws his arm around Ian’s shoulders. “I’m Jason. I work with this old guy.” He turns to my sister Lainie. I watch his eyes grow round then move into a steely gaze that I’m assuming is supposed to be sexy but isn’t. He’s checking her out. Leaning toward my oldest sister he coos, “Well, hello there, beautiful.”

  I hear Keely giggle.

  “Um, hello yourself,” replies Lainie.

  “What’s your name?” Jason asks as he slithers closer to her.

  “Mine,” says a deep, growly voice. Keeton Gustafson, Lainie’s big, bad, biker boyfriend, just approached our table with a fresh pitcher of beer. “Step away,” he adds, sounding not the least bit friendly.

  With his hands up, Jason takes one step back. “No problem, man. There’s lots more to choose from.” Without taking a breath he continues, “I don’t ever remember seeing a table full of such hot girls before, have you Ian?”

  “You did not just say that,” mutters Sadie.

  “He did.” Violet replies. It was nice to hear her speak since she hasn’t said much tonight. “He called us ‘girls’ and insinuated that he can just choose one of us.” Vi’s making up for her silence. It makes me smile.

  “Ladies, I meant no disrespect. Right, bro?” He slaps Ian’s back like he’s expecting to get some back up.

  We all turn to look up at Ian and watch as he rolls his eyes. It’s funny and unexpected. So much so, everyone at the table laughs. Everyone except Jason.

  Placing his hand on the back of Jason’s neck, he nudges him away from our table. “Come on, Romeo, let’s go. Our wings are getting cold.”

  “B-but—” Jason whines.

  Ian ignores him, turning back toward me. Leaning down to whisper in my ear, he says, “I’m coming over tonight. We need to talk.”

  Oh, shit. I thought we were having breakfast. And that statement right there? Hit me right in the panties. Double-crossing panties. My turn for the old eye roll. “Whatever.”