The P.I. Contest. C.J. Carmichael
were staked out in that van, and it was so bloody cold.”
“I was determined to make us coffee with that old propane stove—”
“And the curtains caught fire. Remember how that gray-haired guy came running from his garage with a garden hose?”
“Yeah, in his underwear. And his wife yelling at him from the front door…”
They were both laughing too much to continue with the story. Their cover had been so blown that night. Plus, the interior of the van had been badly damaged. For some reason Power hadn’t fired them, though.
Jay wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, that was some job, all right.”
“We raked in a pile of dough that summer.”
“True.” Enough money that they’d both been able to enroll in college that fall. Nathan to study criminology and Jay aviation flight training.
The two men drank their beers quietly for a moment. Finally Jay said, “You really have an opening?”
“You bet. Lindsay and I have been turning away clients lately because we just can’t handle any more.”
“You think Lindsay would agree to hire me even though I have no police training?”
“All that’s really necessary for this job is the ability to think fast on your feet. You should see some of the characters we’ve interviewed for the position. If you’re interested, come to the office and we’ll talk. How about tomorrow at ten?”
Jay finished his beer. He couldn’t believe how much better he felt now than when he’d left to meet Nathan two hours ago. The workout, the laughter, the friendship…he’d needed them all.
And now, on top of all that, Nathan was offering him a job. A job that might just be the perfect thing.
“I’m interested.”
CHAPTER TWO
JAY SAVAGE WAS INFINITELY more comfortable traveling above the ground than below it. As the subway car swayed to the right, his body swayed left, knocking his legs into the knees of the seated lady beside him. She glared.
“Sorry.” He’d given up his place for the old gal. Some gratitude.
He glanced at his nephew beside him. Eric moved with the rhythm of the train, as if they were part of the same entity—much like a cowboy on a horse. He waited for Eric to acknowledge his presence, but Eric’s gaze was unmoving and unseeing.
Presumably his attention was all on the music playing on his iPod. The wires of his headphones led from his backpack and disappeared under the black wool of the hat he wore pulled over his embarrassing blond curls. At least Jay assumed Eric found those curls embarrassing, since he wore his hat almost all the time.
The train stopped at Cathedral Parkway, and as Eric swung forward, Jay tapped his shoulder. “Have a good day at school.”
Eric just ignored him, disappearing amid a herd of other middle-school-aged kids. Jay waited for the rush to end before slipping out and catching the next train headed south.
He didn’t know why he bothered to ride the subway with Eric every morning. His nephew never talked to him. He supposed he just wanted to make sure he really was going to school. When Tracy was fourteen she’d skipped more days of school than she’d actually attended. He didn’t want her son making the same mistake.
Jay exited the subway at the stop for the Museum of Natural History. The offices of Fox & Fisher were just a few blocks west. He was looking forward to finding out more about this job Nathan had promised him. He’d been dreading finding a new career, but this one sounded like it could be interesting, and he’d be glad to be working with Nathan, whom he both liked and respected.
And though the agency was small, with only two partners, just this September one of their cases had made the front page of the Daily News. So they were doing good work. Important work.
When Jay made his way up to ground level, he was greeted with a gray sky. Two-day-old snow was now sludge in the gutters. March wasn’t the city’s prettiest month, but he supposed April would be here before he knew it.
February had certainly passed quickly enough. Looking back now, the days were a blur of sadness and grief and endless, unhappy chores. He’d had to sublet Tracy’s apartment, sell her furniture and settle her financial affairs. Then there’d been the business of moving Eric to his apartment and trying to make the kid feel at home.
Jay crossed the street and hurried along West Seventy-ninth Street until he came to the old brownstone where Fox & Fisher was located. A half flight of stairs led to the main door and a small vestibule with mailboxes and a door leading off to a hallway and more stairs.
Nathan went up another story and found yet another hallway. The door on the right had a new copper nameplate etched with The Fox & Fisher Detective Agency.
He took a deep breath, as if he was about to plunge into a cold lake, then opened the door.
A pretty brunette sat behind a modern, slate-gray desk. She smiled, waved him inside, then continued with the conversation she was having on the phone.
He glanced around. The all-business, ultramodern decor was softened by the presence of lots of green, healthy plants. An inviting array of magazines were spread out on a coffee table near a sofa and two armchairs. There was a bowl of jelly beans there, too.
Jay sat in one of the chairs—made of molded metal, yet surprisingly comfortable—and reached for the candies.
He looked up when the door opened again—this time admitting a tall woman about his age, dressed in a cream-colored trench coat. From this angle, all he could see was long, reddish-blond hair and a thin, elegant body.
With businesslike strides, she approached the receptionist and placed a hand on her desk.
“I’m here to see Lindsay Fox.”
Her voice was deep and sexy and he gave the woman a second glance. If this was an example of the kind of clients they had at Fox & Fisher, then he was all in.
The receptionist—Nadine Kimble, according to the nameplate he’d just noticed beside a small flowering plant—held up a hand for the woman to wait, then finally ended her call with a timid promise to phone back at the first chance. She set down the phone, then said, “I’ll call Lindsay for you, but would you please wait a minute? The gentleman was here first.”
The redhead turned to face him, then. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.” Her gaze swept over him with almost professional efficiency.
He was struck by how pretty she was. She reminded him, superficially, of Nicole Kidman, except that her skin wasn’t pale porcelain like the actor’s but flooded with freckles. The cute splotches of pigment only made her look more beautiful.
“Mr. Savage?”
He blinked as he realized the receptionist was trying to get his attention. “Yes.”
“Nathan is waiting for you. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you when you came in, but I was talking to my mother and if I’d interrupted her, well, let’s just say it’s never a good idea.”
He immediately decided he loved this receptionist.
“Just take that door to the left, Mr. Savage. And good luck.”
“HE LOOKS LIKE a football player,” Kate said. She ignored the chair that Lindsay had invited her to sit in and went, instead, to check out the view from the window, which happened to be of a brick wall.
“Quarterback or lineman?”
“What?” Kate supposed the view didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be in the office much, anyway. She turned back to survey the decor, which she approved of. Modern, calming and most of all…practical. When it came to work, she didn’t like to waste