Careless Rapture (19 page)

She opened the door with a smile. “Did
everything go well?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He stepped in, then halted at the sight. On
the coffee table were pretzels, popcorn, and chips. Next to it, a
cooler. He lifted the lid and saw beer on ice. He swore.

She frowned at him “What’s wrong? Isn’t that
the right brand?”

“It’s the right brand.” He sat, then said
with regret, “You’re beginning to know me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Clay lifted a can and shook his head, amazed.
“For me, yes.” He grinned up at her. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She curled up beside him.
“What happened?”

He hesitated. He didn’t usually talk about a
case. But, strangely, he wanted to talk to her; he didn’t analyze
why. In broad terms, he told her about the case and what had
happened tonight. “And then when I tried to help her down from the
stool, she spat on me. Now—”

Jackie stiffened. “She did what?”

“Relax, I’ve had worse.”

“What’s her name?”

He laughed. “Are you planning to cause a
little mischief?”

“You’re not the only one allowed to play
pranks. What’s her name?”

Clay rubbed the top of her head
affectionately. “I can’t tell you, so forget it.”

She turned on the TV and they watched it
together in silence. Clay fell asleep, but a half hour later, he
woke up. The TV was on low and Jackie rested beside him. He hadn’t
meant to fall asleep. How many beers had he had? He glanced at the
coffee table and saw only one. Weird. He didn’t usually let his
guard down like that. He looked at Jackie sleeping peacefully,
enjoying the feel of her next to him, and the faint scent of her
papaya cream lotion. He brushed his lips against her forehead. He
didn’t want to wake her but knew it was best to go. He gently
nudged her and watched her eyes flutter open.

“I’d better go,” he said.

“You can stay if you want,” she muttered
against his chest.

“No. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s okay.” She looked up at him. “I tried
to carry you to bed, but you were a little heavier than I
thought.”

He gazed down at her sleep-heavy gaze and
wanted to kiss her—another part of him wanted to stay. He knew he
couldn’t. “It’s the thought that counts.” He stood.

“Why won’t you stay?”

“It’s better this way. It doesn’t blur the
lines.”

“Between an affair and a relationship?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve never just slept beside a woman
before?”

“No.”

He handed her the box of condoms. “For next
time.” He put on his jacket. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back
here.”

“I’m glad you did.” She noticed his frown.
“Why don’t you like me saying that?”

He opened the door. “No reason. Look, I have
to go.”

He kissed her briefly. She watched him walk
down the hall. “You mean, you have to run,” she whispered.

The first
thing Clay saw when he entered the office was Brent hovering over a
newspaper, holding a large magnifying glass against his eye.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Brent glanced up briefly. “Looking for
clues.” He frowned at the magnifying glass. “But I think this thing
is broken. It makes things look smaller. I thought it was supposed
to make things look bigger.”

Clay took the magnifying glass and placed it
on the page.

Brent looked down and smiled. “Oh, yeah.
That’s better.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Clues. You know, to that Amanda girl’s
disappearance.”

“And you think they’re in the paper?”

“Yeah.” He tapped the paper. “See, this is a
photo taken of Amanda’s mother. She’s sitting in Amanda’s bedroom.
I’m looking to see what kind of girl she was—is.”

“You didn’t believe the detailed profile
given on the news?”

“Nah. That’s just common stuff. The basics.
You know, a good student, quiet, soft-spoken. You can really tell a
lot about a person from their bedroom.”

“And what have you found?”

He looked at Clay, amazed. “You’re really
interested? Do you think I’m on to something?”

No.
“You might be.”

Thrilled by the prospect, Brent sat
straighter. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out
at various angles. “I think I already have a theory. But let me
tell you how I came to my conclusion first.”

“All right.”

He pulled out a pad. “I created a list of all
the things I saw in her room and what they could mean. Like, I
wrote down mugs. She had a lot of them. Which means she’s a
caffeine addict. She has to have coffee to survive, which is normal
for a college student, right?”

“Or it could mean she just liked to collect
mugs from different states, which could mean she likes to travel or
likes to collect.”

“Oh, yeah. That, too. I also wrote down psych
books. She had a lot of self-help books and ones about depression.
So she must have been depressed.”

“Or a psychology major.”

“Right, that, too. But this is what led me to
my theory. The posters. Band posters. I wrote down the names of all
the groups. She also had rave fliers. So though she was shy, she
liked to party. I figure she’s a true music devotee from the amount
of CDs she had—has. Here, have a look.” Clay swiftly surveyed the
photo of Mrs. Heldon sitting forlorn in her daughter’s room. “You
agree?”

“Hmm”

“So are you ready for my theory?”

Clay nodded.

“I think she fell in love with one of these
rock stars and ran off to meet him.”

“Interesting. Why do you think that?”

“Her love of musicians. Usually only
teenagers have a poster worship like this, right?”

“Not necessarily, but let’s not debate that.
No, I wonder why you think she ran off when all the evidence points
to a possible abduction? It looks as though she left in a
hurry.”

“I don’t know. I was just trying to go with
my own thinking. Not what the media says.” He folded his arms. “So
umm what do you think?”

I think you’re strange, but have
potential
. “Tomorrow we’re going out.”

His face lit up. “On a case?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

Clay walked into his office. Mack came up
behind him and shut the. door. “Tell me I’m losing my mind. Tell me
you didn’t say you were going to take bubblehead boy on a
case.”

“I’m just taking him out of the office. He
has a curious mind.”

“You found it?”

“He may surprise us.”

Mack sat down. “It’s all an act, you
know.”

“What?”

“That cynical PI you try to pull off. You’re
a closet optimist.”

“No need to be insulting.”

He shook his head. “You’ll need all the
patience in the world to survive Brent.”

“I’m not worried.”

Mack shook his head again. “I read over-your
interview notes with Melanie.”

Clay tensed. “And?”

He handed him a file. “And after some
searching, I think you’ve uncovered Jackie’s invisible man.”

Clay took the file and set it on his
desk.

“Are you going to tell Jackie?”

He turned to his computer. “No.”

Mack shrugged, though he wondered why.

***

Clay considered himself a patient man. He
almost lost that patience when he saw Brent the next day. Brent was
dressed in black trousers, a gray shirt, and black jacket, and
resembled an extra on a bloody gangster film.

Clay rubbed his nose, then sighed. “What are
you wearing?”

Brent glanced down. “Um, slacks from—”

“No, I mean I can smell you and I’m not
supposed to.”

Brent looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wearing cologne.”

He smiled. “Oh, that. It’s Desire. You like
it?”

“No”

His face fell. “Oh. I could wear something
else next time.”

“Follow me. ” Clay walked into his office.
“Sit down.”

He hesitated. “We’re not going out?”

Clay lowered his gaze and his voice. “Sit
down.”

He did.

“When you leave this office, you represent a
business.”

“Right. Hodder Investigations. So are we
going out or not?”

Clay picked up a pen and twirled it.

Brent held up his hand. “No more questions.
Right. I got it.”

“What is our job?”

“To investigate.”

He nodded. “Yes, and that requires what?”

“That we be investigators.”

“And that means?”

“You know, this question thing would be a lot
easier if it were multiple choice.”

“Consider it an essay question and answer it.
What does being an investigator mean?”

He looked at Clay with a blank
expression.

“It means we must be invisible. You don’t
take your dress code off a TV screen or have your scent enter the
room before you. You want to blend in unless you’re acting in
character.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, I know
about that. I had a girlfriend who took Method acting once.”

“Hmm. I’m going to give you a mystery and let
you figure it out.”

His face lit up. “Really? What?”

“Why do you want to be an investigator?”

“It seems like a cool job. Speaking of cool,
I like that twirling stuff you do with your pen. Could you show me
how to do it?”

“Try and concentrate.”

Brent put two fingers on either side of his
head. “Right.”

“Why else?”

“You get to meet different types of
people.”

“You basically get three varieties: jerks,
sad sacks, and liars. Why else?”

“’Cause I want to be like you and Mack. You
guys are so cool. You know everything and nothing gets to you.”

“Not---”

“No disrespect, but let me finish.” He rested
his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think I was meant for much. My
parents wanted me to go into the family hardware business. But I
want more. I want to help people, not tell them the best wrench to
use. That’s why I took criminal studies. I see the people you help
and you can’t tell me that doesn’t feel good. I appreciate this
chance to prove myself.” He tugged on his jacket lapels. “One day
I’ll be Brent Holliday, investigator.”

Clay sighed. “No cape required.”

“What?”

He stood. “Never mind. Let’s roll.”

Brent proved to be a good listener once he
settled down. His retention skills, however, proved to be a
problem. After a few hours Clay needed a break and headed for a
restaurant. He saw a familiar face in the waiting area—a tall,
dark-skinned girl with big earrings. Clay remembered when she used
to work at the Blue Mango with her boyfriend, Cedric.

She recognized him and smiled. “Hi, Mr.
Jarrett.”

“Hi, Pamela. What are you doing here?”

“Spring break.”

“Lucky girl.”

He felt Brent shifting back and forth like an
eager puppy waiting for attention. “This is Brent.”

She smiled at him. “Hi.”

He only grinned.

“So what are you two doing here?” she asked,
to break the silence.

Brent smoothed his hair back and puffed out
his chest.

“Taking a break from a case. Clay and I are
working on important business.”

Clay shoved his hands in his pockets.

“What?” she asked, intrigued.

“It’s confidential, but it involves a missing
person.”

“Oh. Sounds exciting.” Her tone was polite
interest but not amazement.

Brent didn’t notice. He shrugged
nonchalantly. “It’s part of the job. So what do you do?”

“I’m still in school. I got my associate’s
degree in culinary arts and restaurant management. I recently
transferred to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh to complete my
bachelor’s.”

“You’re really going places. While you’re in
town I could show you around.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you do, huh? What is he majoring
in?”

“He’s a waiter at a top restaurant. The Blue
Mango.”

“He’s a part-time student?”

She hesitated. “No, he’s not in school.”

“Why not? Can’t he afford it?”

Her smile became less polite and more forced.
“No, he just likes his job.”

“I see.”

Clay tapped him on the shoulder. “We’d better
grab a table.”

Brent nodded. “I’ll catch up with you.” He
turned back to Pamela. “Must be hard for you.”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you
mean?”

“What do you and your boyfriend talk
about?”

“A lot of things.”

“You’ll end up making more money than him. A
pretty woman like you shouldn’t have to carry around a man.”

“She doesn’t have to,” a low voice said.

They turned to Cedric. Pamela took his hand
and smiled. “This is Brent.”

He held out his hand. “Investigator.
Graduated from George Washington.”

Cedric looked at his hand in disgust. “Good
for you.”

“So you’re a waiter.”

“Yeah.”

“You always planning to do that?”

Cedric took a step closer. “What’s it to
you?”

Brent took a step back. “Just trying to have
a civil conversation.”

“Fine. Let me say a few words.” He punched
him. Brent crashed into the wall, then slid to the ground. “Is that
clear enough for you?” He took Pamela’s hand and left.

Clay helped Brent to his feet. “You should
have left when I told you to.”

Brent gently probed his jaw. “I didn’t know
she was dating a thug.”

“How many times were you shoved in a locker
in high school?”

Brent turned, surprised.

“You tried too hard to be smooth, to actually
be smooth. In all things, just be yourself.”

***

Pamela looked at Cedric as they strolled down
Sixteenth Street. “Are you going to talk or brood all day?”

“That guy was a—”

“Yes, I know what he was. He’s not here right
now I am and I’ll be leaving soon.”