To Trust a Cop. Sharon Hartley
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like she’s headed home,” he said.
“She didn’t speak to anybody in there except the clerks.” Merlene sighed. “Just a routine trip to get groceries.”
Silence filled the car again. He studied Merlene’s face, trying to figure out why she intrigued him. He liked her, despite her interference. No question she was a looker. She had a fragile, porcelain look, although her attitude was anything but docile. She appeared to be a competent detective, but she was wasting her time attempting to catch Linda Cole and Dr. Johnson together in a romantic tryst. He ought to tell her and save her some effort. She had to be frustrated. He sure as hell knew how that felt.
Plus, he couldn’t help but believe her constant presence around the players in his case had somehow changed the game, had caused Johnson to vanish. The sooner she moved on to other surveillance, the better. This wasn’t just another case to him. This case involved a doctor more interested in cold, hard cash than healing patients, some of them patients like his brother-in-law.
“Have you recorded anyone going into the doctor’s house?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nope. He’s pretty damn boring, if you ask me. His wife is probably well rid of him.”
“Because he’s boring?”
“He’s a crook, too, right?”
Cody nodded. “Listen... Mrs. Saunders...”
“Don’t tell me. I’m interfering and you don’t want me to mention anything about a police investigation to my client.”
“Actually, I’ve decided to help you,” he said. “I’ll save you the headache of following Cole around.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then call me Merlene.” She tossed him a look. “I don’t answer to Mrs. Saunders. That’s my ex’s mother, thank you very much. Not me.”
Amused by her prickly tone, Cody relaxed against the seat. He’d known her marital status, but now he knew how she felt about her ex.
“So how are you going to help me?” she asked.
“You’re wasting your time chasing Linda Cole. Dr. Johnson isn’t romantically involved with her.”
“My client thinks otherwise.”
Cody nodded. “He’s spending a lot of time with her, but only to make money, not love. They won’t meet outside the office.” He watched while she turned the information over in her mind.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“We’ve got them on audio, and it’s all been pure business.”
“Interesting.” Merlene remained quiet for a moment. “But not good enough for my client. She wants concrete proof, and I can’t exactly tell her my info came from the cops, now, can I?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” he said. Merlene’s sarcasm bothered him, but he wasn’t sure why. She seemed to take particular delight in antagonizing him. Hey, he was trying to help her.
“I don’t know.”
Fascinated, he watched her absently twirl a strand of thick hair around a long, graceful finger, the diamond ring flashing with her movements.
“I’ll run it by D.J.” She dropped her hand to the steering wheel and narrowed her eyes. “But don’t feed me any nonsense about you pulling my license if I don’t back off. I know you can’t do that. It takes months...probably a year to suspend a P.I.’s license.”
“I didn’t say one word about suspending your license.”
They’d arrived back at Linda’s apartment. Without speaking again, Merlene pulled in next to his white, unmarked unit.
“Are you going or staying?” he asked, not caring that he sounded sharp.
“Going. For now. I’ll let D.J. tell me what to do. I trust him.” She met his gaze as if daring him to object.
“Fine,” Cody said. “I don’t want to say, ‘See you around,’ exactly, but...”
She crossed her arms. “I won’t promise to stay out of your way.”
“Then I guess I will see you around.”
* * *
“LICENSING BOARD?” Merlene stared at D. J. Cooke behind his cluttered desk. She’d thought her boss looked more tired than usual. Now she knew why. “What do you mean you’ve heard from the licensing board?”
“Something about your client’s husband,” D.J. said with a sigh. “Interference with the police. They’re sending an investigator out next week to interview me.”
“They’re starting an investigation?”
“Routine, I’m sure,” D.J. said.
“Damn that Cody Warren,” Merlene muttered. “I knew he was nothing but trouble.”
“Cody Warren?”
She nodded. “That’s the cop who rousted me off surveillance on the Johnson case.”
“Cody. Doggone it. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a dog’s age.”
In spite of her annoyance, Merlene grinned at D.J.’s wrinkled face. Her boss always resorted to Ozark slang on a trip down memory lane.
“He remembered you, too,” she said. “He said you were a good man. His exact words.” She stared at her lap, organizing her notes from the surveillance. “That’s the only nice thing he said all day. I should have known he’d pull something like this.”
D.J. made a clucking sound. “Little Cody. I’m glad he stuck it out.”
“Well, he’s not little anymore,” she said, remembering the way his white shirt had stretched across a muscular back.
D.J. didn’t seem to hear her. “It sure was rough on him there for a while.”
She raised her gaze. “What was?”
D.J. sighed. “Bad business. His dad was a longtime beat cop and got caught shaking down shop owners for protection money. Cody was a rookie when the scandal broke.”
“He seems to have survived.” So she and Cody had the same rotten luck when it came to their parents.
“I can’t rightly recall what happened to Bill Warren, but Cody became a cop who plays it strictly by the book.” Tapping his glasses against his cheek, D.J. swiveled in his chair and looked out the office window. “He worked in homicide for a while, then asked for assignment to the fraud division.”
Merlene followed his gaze outside to a suburban backyard. Two small brown squirrels chased each other around the gnarled trunk of an avocado tree. Her boss conducted business out of his home now, taking only an occasional case, allowing Merlene to work as many surveillance jobs as she could land.
She watched the squirrels fuss at each other. Probably squirrel husband and wife, she thought. But at least one of them still wanted the other.
D.J. coughed. Not liking the sound, she shifted her gaze back to his face and really didn’t like what she saw. D.J. looked exhausted. No, more than that. He looked sick, his face as pale and white as his hair.
“Hey, are you okay, boss?” she asked softly.
“Fit as a fiddle,” he said with the wave of a thin hand. “Don’t worry about me.” D.J. swiveled back and placed his forearms on the desk. “I’ve handled much worse problems in my career.”
She nodded, thinking he definitely didn’t need the stress of a Division of Licensing inquiry at this stage in his life.
“What should I tell Mrs. Johnson?” she asked.