Chapter Fourteen

Margo Angelhart

Fifty years ago, my grandparents, Hector and Margaret Morales, inherited a beautiful two-story Spanish colonial mansion in downtown Phoenix walking distance from St. Mary's Basilica and Chase Field. Built in 1907, five years before Arizona became a state, it had first been a residence, then a seminary, orphanage, and school. When Pop and Abuela took it over, it had been boarded up and in disrepair. They converted it to offices, and now half the building was Arizona Legal Services run by my Aunt Rita, and the other half was Angelhart Investigations.

I sat in my Jeep drinking iced coffee from my Yeti, staring at the back door of the historic building, working up the courage to enter.

I hated feeling liked I was about to be punished. Or humiliated. I didn't know why I was so nervous.

Family was complicated.

Even now, after everything that happened, I loved my family.

But being here, in front of the Angelhart offices that I'd been so excited to help create but was forced to walk away from, hurt.

Damn, it hurt.

I almost drove away.

Almost.

Angelharts didn't shirk our duties, didn't say no when we could say yes. My parents had instilled in all five of us kids a deep sense of family first—but also the value of community, service, standing up for what was right over what was popular or expedient. It didn't always make friends, but my dad was my role model. He'd lived his life by the principle of loving God and loving your neighbors.

Which is why when he lied and confessed to murder, I couldn't accept it. It wasn't him, wasn't my family, wasn't how I was raised. I couldn't back down, but every wall that could be erected blocked me, and the few pieces I had put together led nowhere.

Dammit.

Now or never.

I got out of my Jeep and went inside.

Jack was the only one there, and I was grateful.

"Hey."

"I got donuts," he said, motioning to a box on the table in the conference room. "Want coffee?"

"I have some." I held up my Army green Yeti.

He grimaced. Jack hated iced coffee. I lived on it.

I looked over the donuts. "Oh, these are Original Rainbow Donuts."

"Yep."

My favorite donut place, a small family business that closed whenever they ran out of donuts, which was almost always earlier than their posted hours every day. Had Jack picked them up just for me? A bribe or just being a good brother? I almost couldn't pick, but finally grabbed a crème-filled maple bar with bacon sprinkles. Took a bite. Moaned.

"Heavenly," I muttered.

Mom walked across the office and said, "Give me five minutes." She went into her office and I tried not to squirm. I had nothing to feel guilty about. But old habits die hard.

Jack, to his credit, didn't say anything. It wasn't like I didn't hang with my brother—six weeks ago Jack, his son Austin, Nico and I went to the opening day home game at Chase Field. D-backs beat the Dodgers, fun was had by all.

Tess walked into the conference room, her expression twisted in a scowl. "Endicott," she said, dropping her laptop on the table. "Why is Miriam Endicott involved in our case?"

It took me a second, then I realized that Tess had enhanced the photos I took yesterday of the two men and their vehicle driving away from Logan Monroe's rental.

"I thought it was Frank Sanchez on the mountain," I said. "Couldn't be sure."

"The other guy is Andy Drake," Tess said. "Also a licensed PI. Know him?"

I shook my head. Frank and I have had a few run-ins over the years when our cases collided, and once we'd even worked together when Miriam Endicott hired me for a project. I didn't really have an opinion of Frank. He was competent, straightforward, and we had never talked about anything other than business.

"What were they up to?" I wondered.

Miriam Endicott had run her late husband's private security business for the past ten years. When my mom was a prosecutor, she'd often butted heads with Roger Endicott who had made it his life's work to embarrass her department as well as Phoenix PD whenever possible. His lack of ethics was legendary, but when he withheld information from the court, his license was suspended for a year.

Miriam was as bad as her dead husband in many ways, but she had a few redeeming qualities—namely, she was the mother of Charlie Endicott, a man I once loved. I went through a rough patch after leaving the Army. Returning home, I no longer felt like I belonged and didn't really know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Then he walked into the bar I was tending and wham. I don't believe in love at first sight, but this was damn close. He was exactly what I needed to get my head on straight.

Charlie was truly one of the best guys I'd ever known. The first guy I genuinely loved—the kind of love that made me start to think that maybe I wanted to get married. That maybe there was one right person for everyone, and for me it was Charlie Endicott.

Then I lost him to the first girl he'd ever loved. Poetic, I suppose, if I weren't the odd-girl out.

Miriam sometimes tossed me cases. Not because she liked me. She did it because Miriam resented Mom opening up Angelhart Investigations, which was in direct competition to Endicott's own Trident Security Group. She also knew that my mom and I had a falling out. Miriam enjoyed twisting the knife in Mom's back. I ignored their rivalry. Miriam paid well and on time, that's all I cared about.

"So they were hired to watch the house?" Jack asked.

"Looks that way," Tess said. "Who hired them and why?"

"Million-dollar question." I finished my donut and drank more coffee.

Mom walked in. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said. "Jack filled me in on what happened yesterday."

Tess told her about Endicott's men watching the house, then said, "Nate's watching White's condo, but she hasn't been home."

Nate Lorenzo worked part-time for Angelhart. Former military, edgy, and probably suffering from PTSD. He grew up in our neighborhood so I had known him practically my entire life, though we didn't go to the same schools. I hadn't seen him for years after he enlisted in the Navy—mostly to get away from his parents, I thought.

Mom looked at her watch. "If she doesn't show up at work this morning, we'll need to assume she's on the run. Ideas about where she'd go? Our background check didn't yield any family, but she grew up in Florida, right?"

"Yes," Tess said, "and we put out feelers there when we first got the case, but so far zilch. Her emergency contact at work is her next-door neighbor. He's a pilot and hasn't been home in the last six days."

"Can I get a copy of her background?" I asked.

Silence around the table. I suppressed a flash of anger, and added, "If we're going to work together, I need to know what you know."

Mom looked at me, hesitated as if she didn't know how to talk to me. I didn't make it easy and took another donut, though I didn't really want it. Finally, Mom asked, "Of course. Tess will send you everything we have. You wrapped up the adultery investigation?"

"The wife wants me to follow him for a couple more days."

"Do you think he's romantically involved with White?"

"Nope, but if she wants to pay for my time, who am I to stop her? He's going to be at the Beverly's tonight at six thirty, and I said I'd check things out. The interesting thing is, it doesn't seem he told her about passing out or meeting White."

"Theories?"

I was uncomfortable in a collaborative role. For nearly eight years I'd been a one-woman shop. Margo Angelhart, Private Investigator. No one to answer to, no one to bounce ideas off. I didn't know if I wanted a partner—or partners—in this or any other investigation.

"When Tess and I spoke with Monroe yesterday," Jack said, "he was evasive on details, but said that Jennifer had interned for him and they'd kept in touch. He claimed he gave her the rental for a few days, agreed to meet her there to discuss something confidential, but claimed he didn't know what it was about. I didn't believe him."

"So even with all the cloak-and-dagger bullshit," I said, "someone else knew they were meeting there. That person drugged or poisoned them. I didn't know where Monroe was going until I followed him. But you knew because you accessed White's email."

"Company email," Tess clarified. "We had permission."

"It's still a good point," Jack said. "No one went in or out while we were watching until White arrived. We arrived thirty minutes before she did. Someone had to have set up the gas, poisoned the water, whatever happened, before then."

"Still no word on forensics?" Mom asked.

Jack shook his head.

"We owe our client a report," Mom said, "but without more information, any report would be vague. I don't want to be party to damaging someone's reputation without just cause. I'll hold them off for twenty-four hours."

"I want to know why Monroe didn't tell his wife about passing out," I said. I often talked to myself when working through problems. Maybe it would be nice to have a partner, but that wasn't going to happen. This case was a fluke, a one-off.

"Yet, you don't think he's screwing around," Tess said.

"I haven't almost since I started. The wife had some compelling reasons to believe that he was, all standard clues—not where he said he'd be, shift in personality, secretive. But after I saw nothing within seventy-two hours, I started thinking that she made the whole thing up—I only have her word that he lied to her."

"Why would she do that?"

"My first thought once I figured he was faithful was that she wants him to be cheating because of their prenup—she gets a lot more money if he strays. Maybe she figures all men cheat, therefore if she has him followed, she'll catch him. Then I realized after last night that the woman likes attention," I said. "Maybe he's not giving her the attention she thinks she deserves and she's trying to get a reaction from him. Or..." I stopped as a new idea popped into my head.

"Or she's accusing her husband of doing what she herself is doing," Mom said.

That was exactly what I'd been thinking. Sometimes, Mom and I were on the exact same wavelength. It made the last three years of tension that much more miserable.

"It's something like that," I said. "I don't know what's going on with her, but she wasn't completely truthful with me. It's like a game to her. Last night, she wanted to meet in public. At Beverly's, of all places. The first time we met was also in public, but a coffee place far from her house, little chance of being recognized."

"Beverly's is definitely not incognito," Tess said.

"Exactly." I shrugged. "Whatever she's thinking or planning, I'll check out Monroe's meeting tonight."

"Want company?" Jack said.

I almost said no, then shrugged. Hanging with Jack was always fun. "Sure."

Mom said, "We need to find Jennifer White. And I'm going to pay Miriam a visit."

I laughed. "Mom, she's not going to tell you anything. She's more likely to talk to me than you."

Mom obviously didn't believe it.

"At a minimum," I continued, "I'm the one who saw Frank Sanchez—I know Frank. I'll zoom in on the photo I took and ask her what the hell."

It was clear my mom didn't want me to do it, but she slowly nodded. "Very well."

As if she could have stopped me.

Mom left to take a call. It was clear to me that we had nothing else to discuss, so I headed out with a quick goodbye. The meeting hadn't been as bad as I'd thought, but lingering would make me uncomfortable. And honestly, this whole situation was depressing.

I was supposed to be part of Angelhart Investigations. I was the experienced investigator, I had helped build the business—and then slam. The proverbial door shut in my face.

As I was walking out, my cell phone rang.

"Hey," I answered as I stepped outside.

"Annie arrived safely in San Antonio," Rafe said.

"She wasn't supposed to make contact."

Damn, damn, damn.

Any contact with her old life put Annie in jeopardy.

"She didn't. My friend there wanted to make sure I knew she and the kids were safe."

I didn't need to know; I didn't want to know. Peter Carillo still loomed—free, angry, with resources. The fallout could be serious. Yet...there was also peace in knowing that Annie had made it all the way, that she hadn't had cold feet and backtracked.

"Okay. Good."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You sound off."

"What, are priests psychic now?"

"No, but maybe uncles are."

"I'm fine. Working with Jack and Tess on a case, it's a bit on the weird side."

"I look forward to hearing about it."

"I'll tell all at the party. I gotta go, but I'll see you later, Uncle Rafe."

"Bless you, Margo."

"Right back at you," I said and ended the call.

"How's Uncle Rafe?" Jack asked.

I hit unlock on my car fob. I hadn't seen him exit the building.

"Good."

"I wasn't eavesdropping, but is everything okay?"

"Peachy."

Jack stared at me. "We're still family. We'll always be family."

"I know." That's why it hurt to be on opposite sides about something so fundamentally important to me. To them. I loved them, but we couldn't get beyond my dad's imprisonment. I would never understand how my mom could stand down.

Jack obviously wanted to say more, but he didn't. He was his mother's son, noble, loyal, always looking at the greater good. He, like everyone in the family, would argue with Ava Angelhart if they disagreed with her, but when Mom made a decision, Jack obeyed.

Most of the time, so did I.

"I miss—" I caught myself before I said something that opened up a bigger can of worms.

"Me, too," he said. "Margo, there will always be a desk for you here. Always."

It was an olive branch, so I didn't jump down his throat. "See you tonight."