Dead Right

“Yes.”

“At ten-thirty at night.”

His time. She’d wondered about the area code. Fortunately, he lived to the west of her and not the east or he’d have a lot more reason to complain. “You sound like you’re awake to me,” she said hesitantly, tapping a pencil on the desk.

“Thanks to you and my ex-wife.” His voice dropped meaningfully. “In case you haven’t guessed, that doesn’t put you in very good company.”

A touch of defensiveness made Madeline rub her furrowed brow. “I assumed I was calling an office number.”

“That means you weren’t expecting a response. Great. This can wait until morning, then.”

“No!” she cried before he could disconnect.

The fact that she didn’t hear a click encouraged her. “You weren’t picking up earlier. And your voice mail was full.”

He didn’t make any excuses. Neither did he promise her she’d be able to reach him later. So she kept talking, trying to keep him on the line until she had a better chance of enlisting his help. “How was I supposed to know I’d been given your home number?”

“It’s not my home number. It’s my cell. If you want to talk to me, that’s the only number. I like things simple.”

“You don’t have an office?”

“I have a small office, but you’ll rarely catch me there.”

Purring, Sophie brushed against her legs, but Madeline was too preoccupied to pay attention. “I take it you’re not interested in developing new business.”

“I have more business than I can handle.”

That response wasn’t encouraging…“That’s fortunate for you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Plumbing the depths of human frailty has its downside.”

“So why don’t you do something else?”

“Some people are good at building houses. I’m not one of them.”

He wasn’t particularly good with people, either, but she’d heard too many testimonials about him to give up now that she had him on the phone. “I have a challenge for you.”

“I’m tired and I want to go bed,” he said. “But thanks for the call.”

“Can I leave you my number at least? Will you get back to me in the morning?”

There was a long silence.

“Hello?” she prompted.

“Why don’t I refer you to a young associate of mine?”

Maybe this other person would be easier to deal with. “Is this ‘young associate’ any good?”

“He worked at my office for a short while doing database searches and just got his own license. He doesn’t have a lot of experience, but he’s hungry and he’s learning.”

Learning? “No! I need someone who really knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t know what to say, Mrs.—”

“Barker. But I’ve never been married. Call me Madeline.”

“Ms. Barker. If I haven’t made myself clear, I’m not interested. Judging by your accent, you live several states from me, anyway.”

“I’m in Stillwater, Mississippi. Where’re you?”

“L.A.”

“It’s crowded in Los Angeles,” she said, hoping to point out one of the city’s less appealing aspects.

“That’s true, but if you’ve ever been here, you’d know why.”

“I’ll pay you. Well.” She frowned at the check register lying open at her elbow. That was hardly the card she’d wanted to play. She was barely keeping herself and the paper afloat. How would she manage?

“I suggest you contact someone in your own area,” he said.

Panic caused Madeline to tighten her grip on the phone. “But I haven’t even told you what I want.”

“Let me guess. You want me to slay the dragon that’s keeping you up at night.”

She glared, bleary-eyed, at the clock on the wall to her right. She was tired, and too frayed around the edges to hide it. Evidently, that wasn’t working in her favor. “Isn’t that the case with most of your clients?”

“These days, I typically work with people who want me to find out whether their estranged mates are hiding assets or having affairs so they can get a better divorce settlement. Or they’re trying to collect on a debt. Their dragon is usually greed.” There was a slight pause. “Do you fit into either of these categories, Ms. Barker?”

“No, but…” She struggled to reel in her temper at his all-too-easy dismissal. “So you’ve gotten lazy? You only take on the easy stuff?”

“I take on the convenient stuff, the close stuff. Besides, I doubt you could afford me.”

She finally bent down to scratch her persistent cat. “What makes you think that?”

“Maybe it’s the accent.”

Her jaw dropped before she could rally her response. “That’s…discriminatory,” she sputtered.

“You called me. Feel free to hang up anytime.”

Nudging Sophie away, she stood and nearly told him to go to hell. But she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. According to what she’d been told, she’d certainly find no one better. “I need you,” she said, resorting to simple honesty. “I need your help.”

He cursed but didn’t hang up, so she took a bolstering breath. “You’re still with me?”

“What is it you’re looking for?” he asked with enough resignation to give her hope.

“A person.”