His Mother's Wedding

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

“Hi, baby. It’s me. Where’ve you been lately? Are we still on for this weekend?”

As he listened to his voice mail, Rico Garcia leaned back in his tufted leather desk chair and blew out a sigh.

Damn. He and Suzette had a date on Saturday, and he’d completely forgotten. Talk about a subconscious desire to cut bait and run.

Not that he’d been stringing her along.

On the day they’d met, he’d made it clear he didn’t commit, and she’d eagerly agreed to his terms. Now, two months later, she was having second thoughts.

And so was he.

Not about committing, though. About their relationship.

He opened the file drawer on the lower right side of his desk where he kept it full of candy and reached into an open bag of Reese’s Pieces. He had a stash of goodies in the glove box of his car, too.

As a kid, he spent the bulk of his allowance on sweets. But after his step-dad was shot, and the proceeds of the life insurance policy dwindled, any money Rico could scavenge went toward rent and utility bills.

He grabbed a handful of the autumn-colored candies, popped them into his mouth and savored the peanut butter taste. The first time he’d eaten them was back in the early eighties, after watching E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial at the Sunday matinee. And they’d been one of his favorites ever since.

After listening to the rest of his messages and making the appropriate return calls, he pulled the Rolodex across his mahogany desk.

He needed to break things off with Suzette. But he wouldn’t do it on a night she was expecting dinner and a sleepover. He’d just have to cancel their date. Then, at the beginning of the week, he’d stop by her house and tell her she ought to look for someone who wanted the same things out of life that she did.

As he flipped through the tabs, he found V and looked for Vio…Vya…

What the hell was the name of the company Suzette worked for?

As a private investigator, details like that never slipped his mind. But sometimes, when it came to relationships with women, his brain didn’t work the same way. The selective-memory thing bothered him a bit, though. Probably because he prided himself on the ability to recall trivial details about a case.

There was a real rush when an investigation struck pay dirt, as most of his did.

Most—but not all of them.

He glanced at the only photograph that sat on his desk, a dark-metal-framed picture of Frank Stafford standing beside his 1963 Corvette Stingray—tuxedo-black, with a split back window and a three-twenty-seven-cubic-inch fuel-injection engine.

The photo had been taken right after Frank bought the vintage vehicle. That was a year before his stepfather had died in a hunting “accident,” a case Rico hadn’t been able to solve. One that wouldn’t grow cold until his memory of Frank died.

He glanced out the window, catching a view of the Empire State Building. It was cloudy and overcast today. Rain, most likely. He hoped to get out of there before the storm hit, but that wasn’t going to happen. He still had work to do.

Rico owned and operated a highly successful private investigative firm. Garcia and Associates was and always would be his baby, his life. He’d built the elite and discreet agency to the level where he had a top-notch office staff and the most skilled and professional private investigators in the business. He could probably take some time off—if he wanted to. But he thrived on having the focus his work provided.

The intercom light flashed, then buzzed.

Beep. “Mr. Garcia?”

“Yes, Margie.”

“Your mother is on line three.”

“Thanks.” Rico let the Rolodex cards slip through his fingers. He hadn’t talked to his mom in weeks and hoped everything was all right. He worried about her sometimes.

No, make that a lot.

He pressed the lit button on line three and took his mother’s call. “Hey, stranger. What’s up?”

“Oh, Rico. You’ll never believe what happened.” His mom’s voice, while innately cheerful, held an even more upbeat tone than usual. “I have wonderful news.”

“What’d you do? Hit the lottery?”

“No. It’s much better than that.”

Better than money?

He didn’t like the sound of that already. He’d spent the first twenty years of his life living with and looking after his sweet, softhearted but gullible mother. And her “good news” always put his skeptical nature on alert.

She’d better not be talking about another pyramid scheme she’d been roped into. The last time, he’d had to put some pressure on the guy who’d preyed on divorcées and widows, making him give the money back. Then he’d turned the sorry son of a bitch in to the local police.

His mother had gotten her investment back—that time.

“Listen, I’ve only got a couple of minutes before my next appointment, Mom. Why don’t you just tell me your good news?”

“Well, all right. I’ve met the most wonderful man in the world. And I’ve fallen in love.”

Oh, for cripes sake. Again?

It’s not as though Rico didn’t want to see his mom happy, but he’d been through enough heartbreak with her as it was. He just wished she’d stop believing that some Romeo was going to ride into her life and carry her away to a castle in the sky.

She, more than anyone, ought to know that.

“Rico?” she asked. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, Mom. I heard you.”

“You’re not excited?”

Hell no, he wasn’t excited. At fifty-two, his mother had been married four times already. When was she going to put away those fairy-tale dreams and call it quits?

But damn, he couldn’t snap at her like that. She’d probably start crying. And Lord knew he couldn’t handle her tears.

He leaned back in his chair, leather creaking. “You know I want to see you happy, Mom. But who is this guy?”

“His name is Daniel Osterhout. He’s a dentist. And he’s my soul mate.”