Private Bodyguard (3 page)

“Where?” was all he could manage.

“Wrapped up in a shower curtain in the tub.”

His lips thinned, and his brows pulled together. “You better give me the key and leave, then,” he said after a moment. He pulled the only landline phone the office had from the second shelf of his desk. Darling felt a quick wave of fondness for the man. He was always trying to cover for her.

“I don't want you to lie about how you found the body,” Darling said. “I'll tell the deputy the door was already open.” She handed the key back to him. “We don't have to tell anyone about the key. Though I don't think they'll care either way.” It seemed obvious to her what had happened.

Dan nodded and pocketed the key.

“Then you call them,” he said, already shrugging into his coat. “I want to go see it for myself.”

Darling sat behind the front desk with a very loud, long sigh and did as she was told. Deputy Derrick wouldn't be happy she had managed to get into this mess, but at least this time she wasn't guilty. Not that she would have admitted she had been guilty that morning. Instead of dialing 9-1-1, she called the man directly. In a small town like Mulligan, where the members of police force could be counted on two hands, Derrick had the dual duty of being their trusty investigator as well as deputy. Instead of puttering around with someone else in the bull pen, Darling went straight to the source.

“Deputy Derrick,” he answered on the second ring.

“Derrick, it's Darling. I hope you're not busy right now.”

She heard him snort. “Is that your way of trying to ask me out? We both know how well that works,” he said, all humor.

“Well, not quite.”

“Where are you calling from?” he asked after a pause. She knew him well enough to recognize something close to suspicious concern creeping into his tone.

“The Mulligan Motel,” she paused for a moment and then dove in. “There's a body in room 212, wrapped up in the tub.”

“A body?”

She nodded. Then, realizing he couldn't see her, she said, “And Derrick? The last person seen leaving the room was Nigel Marks.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Stay there and tell Dan don't let anyone else in that room,” he finally said. “And I mean it, Darling. No one else goes in there.”

Darling agreed to his no-tampering-with-a-crime-scene rule. Suddenly her morning indiscretion didn't seem as bad. She even bet Oliver's need to question her would disappear when he found out.

Oliver.

She pulled his card out of her back pocket and looked at his number.

If Nigel did kill whoever it was in the tub, where did that leave Oliver?

Chapter Three

Oliver didn't answer when Darling called him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt she owed it to him to give him a heads-up that the man he had promised to guard was about to need a lot more protection than he could offer. Oliver had said she wasn't a threat, vouching for a woman he no longer knew. Plus, it was no fun to be blindsided. She knew that from experience.

“This is Oliver Quinn. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible,” his voice mail recording answered. Darling felt her face heat up after the beep to leave a message came and went. She realized then that giving him a heads-up might also give Nigel one before the cops were even able to see the body in the tub. She didn't want to be the one responsible for giving the number one suspect time to lawyer up or possibly run. Although he probably had already done one or the other. It wasn't as if the body could have gone unnoticed for too long.

“Um, hi, it's Darling,” she floundered. “I need you to call me as soon as you get this. Something's happened. Thanks.” She let out a long sigh as she ended the call. She liked to believe she was a very confident and sure woman, but mix any part of Oliver into her life and she suddenly felt off her game.

Darling went back up to the second floor to find Dan, trying to push thoughts of her ex clear out of her head. She had walked into the crime scene that, most likely, her current client's husband had created. That gave her a new set of problems and concerns without adding the complication of the man from her past.

“I talked to Deputy Derrick,” Darling told Dan, who was standing in the doorway to room 212. “He said no one else needs to go in there until they get here.”

Dan didn't answer right away. His eyes were stuck on a point somewhere in the main room. She wondered if he had peeked in the bathroom yet. When he met her gaze, she knew he had. He looked haunted.

“Do you think he really did it?” he asked. “Nigel. Do you think he really killed her?”

Darling shrugged. “I can't say for certain, but I can make the leap and say I think there's a pretty good chance he did. You said yourself that he stayed the night here.”

Dan nodded, but there was no enthusiasm in it.

“Do you want me to wait in the lobby and send the cops up when they get here?” she asked when it was clear Dan wasn't going to talk. He nodded again and returned to staring into room 212. She patted him on the shoulder and made the walk back, thinking a dead body in your hotel couldn't be good for business.

Darling sat behind the desk again but didn't let her mind wander. Instead she thought about Elizabeth Marks, the only other woman who knew about her husband's affair. Or, at least, she had thought so. If Nigel went to jail for murdering his mistress, she'd be in the clear to take what was hers, and possibly his, and leave without any strings attached.

A coldness seeped into Darling's heart.

She pulled her phone out and went to her email. Searching through discount offers and social media updates, she found the itinerary Elizabeth had sent to her after she had signed on to the case. During the duration of Nigel's work trip, Elizabeth would be with her mother in the Bahamas. She claimed that if she were far away with no chance of accidentally spotting Nigel and his mistress, he might get careless. It would be easier to catch him, she had said with vigor. If the schedule Darling was looking at was correct, the two women would have left for the trip on Sunday, two days ago. That meant Elizabeth wasn't even in the country when the woman had checked in.

Plus, why would you hire a private investigator if you were just going to kill the problem?

All at once, Darling realized there was an easy way to figure out who the mistress was.

Jumping up, she hurried to look out the door to make sure no one was coming. Derrick had been at the police station when she had called, which meant she had very little time left before he arrived. She ran back behind the front desk and pulled a big leather-bound registry book out. Dan hated leaving it on the desktop because he claimed it got in the way of his crosswords. He only pulled it out when a new guest had already handed over the money. It was also the only way he kept tabs on the people who checked in and out. Darling could have slapped herself. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of looking at the registry as soon as she had come in.

She flipped through a few pages until she found the entries from the night before. Three people had checked in. All were after 6:00 p.m., and none of them were Nigel Marks. A car door shut in the parking lot, and for the second time that day, Darling took a picture of something she probably shouldn't have. This time it was with her phone, but that reminded her she needed to hide her camera or else Derrick would take it from her. He was always suspicious of her, which, she guessed, was deserved in this case. She grabbed the camera, put it in the bottom drawer of the desk and replaced the registry seconds before Deputy Derrick came into the office.

“Two times in one day, huh?” she greeted him. Derrick didn't think it was funny. She sobered. “Sorry, it's been a weird day.”

Whatever he had been about to say, he must have changed his mind. His face softened.

“What room?” he asked.

“Room 212. Dan is waiting outside. I told him not to go back in, like you said.”

Derrick nodded. Behind his knitted brows, he was probably running through police procedures.

“You okay?” he asked when she kept staring. “I mean, like emotionally,” he tacked on. He had never been that great at talking about feelings, so the question surprised her.

“Yeah, I didn't really see much.”

He nodded and turned for the door that led to the stairs outside. He paused long enough to add, “And Darling, don't leave. I have a
lot
of questions for you.”

“I know.”

* * *

“
I
NEED
YOU
to call me as soon as you get this. Something's happened. Thanks.”
Oliver hadn't recognized the number, but he sure did recognize the voice and the oddness behind it as he listened to Darling's message. He didn't have long to think about it, though, before his phone rang again.

This time it was George.

“Oliver, the police are here,” he started. “They want to know if they can come in.”

“The police?”

“Yeah, they say they need to talk to Mr. Marks.”

Oliver looked up as if he could see his client through the ceiling.

“Let them in,” he answered, ending the call.

He left his spot in the kitchen next to the back entrance and walked down the long hallway to the front. Grant, off duty until seven that night, was sitting in the dining room, reading one of the many books he had brought with him. He looked up as Oliver opened the front door.

“Something is up,” Oliver said over his shoulder. A police cruiser was parking next to his rental SUV. Two male cops got out. “I need you on duty right now,” he added, seeing their facial expressions. This wasn't a courtesy visit.

“Good afternoon, officers,” Oliver said when they were a few feet away.

“Afternoon,” the first one responded. He was in his upper fifties and had almost no hair left on his head. He was built strong but didn't look intimidating with his short height. “I'm Officer Barker and this is my partner, Officer Clay.” He motioned to the much younger black man next to him, whose lack of hair looked more intentional than his partner's. “You must be one of Mr. Marks's bodyguards.”

“Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

Officer Barker looked considerably more uncomfortable than Officer Clay. They shared a glance before Barker straightened his back and answered.

“We need to talk to Mr. Marks,” he said. “Now.”

“Okay,” Oliver said. He turned to nod at Grant, who had been hanging back in the dining room to listen. “Can I ask what about?” Oliver ventured as Grant walked out of the room, heading for the stairs.

Again Oliver caught the feeling of unease that passed between the officers.

“Something's happened,” Officer Clay answered. Oliver instantly recalled Darling's voice mail. “We shouldn't say anything more until we've talked to Mr. Marks.”

Oliver wanted to push for more answers but had to remind himself that he was the bodyguard, not Nigel's personal assistant. He let the officers stand in silence until the man of the hour made his grand appearance.

“Officers,” Nigel said, a question already in his tone. “What can I do for you?”

“We'll give you some privacy,” Oliver said, falling back into the house with Grant but maintaining a sight line. Nigel didn't seem to notice, and as soon as they were out of earshot, the officers began to talk in lowered voices.

“What's going on?” Thomas asked. He had come down the stairs with Nigel, face filled with curiosity. Not that Oliver could blame him.

“The cops are here,” Grant answered. He turned to Oliver. “Do you know what's going on?”

Oliver watched as Nigel's entire body visibly tensed.

“No,” he answered. “But I can guess it's probably not good.”

Probably not good was an understatement. In less than five minutes, Nigel Marks was in the back of the cop cruiser and as mad as a hornet. Before they had driven away, the businessman had asked Thomas to call his lawyer.

“About what?” Thomas had asked.

“I'm being accused of murder,” Nigel had bit back.

All three bodyguards didn't have time to hide their surprise.

Oliver had had many interesting things happen in his line of work, but he could definitely say a client being accused of murder was a first. No matter the new unique circumstance, he couldn't forget he was team leader. He sent Grant and Thomas—who had followed Nigel's directions and was calling Nikki to get the man's lawyer's information, and also an earful of confusion from her—to the police station. There they would continue to work as his bodyguards until Nigel was officially convicted of the crime or cleared of it.

Oliver made sure George knew he needed to keep an extravigilant eye on the gate and jumped into his rental, already calling Darling. It wasn't a coincidence she had called. She knew something.

She always did.

Minutes later, Oliver pulled into the lot of the Mulligan Motel. The coroner's van along with two police cruisers were parked next to the entrance, while a few guests stood around, but he had eyes only for one woman.

Darling was sitting on a bench next to the lobby's front door, concentration aimed at her phone. She had been brief during their call but had admitted they had found a dead body. Though how it was linked to Nigel, he wasn't sure yet.

“Apparently my questions are going to have to be asked a little earlier than planned,” he said by way of a greeting. It made the woman jump, but she didn't appear angry when she met his eyes. His body tensed at her gaze.

“Believe me, you aren't the only one who has questions.” She stood and stretched. He was acutely aware of her five-five height, having to incline his head down slightly to look at her. A memory of how easy it was to pick her up into his embrace flashed across his vision. “Where is Nigel, and why aren't you with him?”

Since Nigel was a client, what went on in the man's private life was confidential. Oliver was under contract, which meant, unless it was public information, he couldn't divulge the fact that the businessman had been taken to the jail. Even if the person asking was Darling.

“Grant and Thomas are with him,” was all he gave her. “Now, what's going on here, and how is it connected with Nigel?”

Darling was visibly trying to hide her anger at not being given a full answer, but she reined in the emotion along with any words born from it. She pushed her shoulders back when she was no longer actively trying to hide her displeasure.

“A body was found in the room your boss was staying in last night,” she answered. Oliver didn't correct her with the difference between boss and client. His interest level had jumped off the charts instead. He was about to push for more when the Mulligan Motel's front door swung open and the deputy walked out. His mouth was set in a grim line, one that thinned when he saw Oliver.

“I'm surprised you're here,” the deputy said, coming over. “I thought you'd be at the station.”

“So Nigel was arrested?” Darling cut in before Oliver could comment.

“He was picked up a few minutes ago,” Derrick said, relieving Oliver of having to withhold the information. Even though Darling kept her face guarded, he didn't miss the satisfaction that the cop's words brought her. “Which is why I didn't think you'd be here,” Derrick said to Oliver.

“The rest of the team is with him,” he repeated. “I came here to find out what's going on.” Oliver sent a pointed look to Darling. “And how you're involved.”

Darling crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was actually about to ask the same thing,” Derrick said. The two of them focused on the private investigator. She shifted under their collective gaze. A long exhalation escaped between her lips.

“I was working a case,” she admitted. “It led me here and, to my surprise, right up to a dead body. But as soon as I found it, I called you,” she said to Derrick.

The cop outdid her earlier sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What's your case?” Oliver had to ask.

Darling set her jaw. “I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Dammit, Darling, a woman is dead. You need to tell me everything you know,” Derrick said with tried patience. Oliver guessed murder wasn't a normal occurrence in Mulligan.

“So it is a woman, then?” she asked. Derrick nodded. It was her turn to skate around a direct answer. “I didn't look hard enough. How was she killed?”

“And how is Nigel connected, again?” Oliver tacked on.