Smoke and Mirrors - Hollywood Knights One (6 page)

The interview didn’t take too long, but I got enough
information to get me started. Once I made it back to Seth’s, I
pulled out my laptop and transcribed the recording. Then I
summarized the facts and read over them, committing them to
memory.

Sarah Matthews was a college drop-out who worked at a
clothing store. Paul had met her at an art exhibit, of all places,
and they’d clicked. Within a month, she’d moved into his apartment
and he spoiled her relentlessly. They never fought. There were none
of the usual signs of an affair. She had taken money out of his
bank account with his debit card, squirreling the money away over a
period of several weeks. She hadn’t left any breadcrumbs for me to
follow.

Paul had never met any of Sarah’s family members. Her
cell number was no longer in service, she wouldn’t return his
emails, and she hadn’t posted to her social media accounts since
before she’d moved out. Her former employer swore she hadn’t seen
Sarah and didn’t have a forwarding address. The few friends of hers
whom he’d met, who were all co-workers from the store, told him
they hadn’t seen her, either.

For all intents and purposes, Sarah Matthews had
disappeared from the face of the planet. And it was my job to find
her.

Chapter Thirteen

Contrary to what TV would have you believe, the
private investigations business is not all Ferraris, bikini-clad
babes, and Doberman pinschers. TV, along with books and movies,
makes the biz look glamorous and exciting. The shows and stories
are full of car chases, shooting, and sex. In the really real
world, investigations are a little different.

Much of what a PI does isn’t glamorous or even very
interesting. We make a lot of phone calls. We spend a ton of time
on the web, hunting through social media sites and specialized
databases. If we’re lucky or smart, we have connections in law
enforcement that can help us out. In my case, I have several such
connections, including some who are clued-in to the world of
magic.

Much like the life of a private investigator, magic
isn’t what people think it is. Some of it is instinctual. Some of
it requires study and preparation and concentration. Most of it is
not showy.

Unless you’re London Dahlbeck. Then you get to wow
people on a regular basis.

My ability to see bits of the future isn’t the kind
of thing you can use as a ‘parlor trick,’ and since I usually can’t
do more than hurl a pillow at someone with my aerokinesis, that’s
not too impressive, either. It’s also pretty much useless in my
line of work. At least the foresight thing has come in handy a time
or two.

There are magic users who have talents that are
useful to an investigator, though. My brother, for instance, can
track people through magic. Donovan’s a tracker as well, and he has
a knack for sensing metaphysical energy—he can sense it in people
and detect traces of it where magic had been used. Robbie had
possessed the ability to make people forget what they’d seen…or
said.

And my buddy Erica has what we like to call
‘influence;’ she can make people do what she wants them to, to a
certain degree. The weak-willed are easier to convince, of course,
and some folks can’t be swayed at all, but it makes it much easier
for her to persuade reluctant witnesses to spill their guts, for
example. I still wasn’t sure whether it was her impressive
credentials, her even more impressive legs, or her magical
abilities that had landed her a cush job with the FBI. Probably all
of the above.

As for the investigation, since I had nothing at all
to go on, I started the search for Paul’s missing girlfriend by
going through all the usual, boring rigmarole. I also checked with
local pawn and jewelry brokers to see if any of them had bought a
ring matching the description of Paul’s grandmother’s.

At the same time, I signed a lease on my new office
and oversaw the delivery of my belongings. I spent some time
settling into my new home, both the house and the city, and hanging
out with my friends. I was starting to rebuild my life, and it felt
good.

The investigation went slowly, as they often do, tied
up in phone-tag and delayed reporting of information. I didn’t have
a lot to go on—not even a social security or driver’s license
number to help things along. Still, I’d managed more on less. I
believed that there was an answer, and I believed that I would find
it.

I decided to retrace Paul’s steps and visited Sarah’s
workplace to talk with her supervisor and friends at the clothing
store. No one had seen her since she’d left, and no one had
expected her sudden and unexplained disappearance. She’d seemed
happy with both her work and home life. Her departure had left a
lot of very confused and hurt people in its wake. Unfortunately,
none of those people got me any closer to uncovering the mystery of
her disappearance.

About a week and a half after I met with Paul, I came
home from a late night of Google searches and reorganizing my
office to find Seth’s house overflowing with people. Dylan and
Brian, London and Elizabeth, Lori and Parker, Teddy, JT…and Seth.
I’d been so focused on my investigation and getting moved in that
I’d completely forgotten that Seth and his band were due to spend a
few nights on home turf.

When Seth saw me, he bounced up, hopped over the back
of the sofa—without spilling his drink—and came over to give me a
big hug.

“Hey, roomie,” he said.

“Welcome home,” I said as I took the drink from his
hand and helped myself to a sip. I grimaced. Even though I’d become
well acquainted with Seth’s Scotch, I still didn’t like the stuff.
And of course my grimace made him grin.

“Come,” he said. “Sit. Adam should be here soon with
food.”

“What’s an Adam?”

“Friend of Parker’s. He volunteered to go fetch grub,
so we let him.”

I nodded. “Thanks, but I’m going to pass. Just ate a
little while ago, and I’m dead tired, covered in dust, and smell
like a three-day-dead goat. Going to grab a shower and a nap.”

Seth frowned. “Not acceptable. Take the shower and
skip the nap.”

“How about I take the shower, and then we can
negotiate regarding the nap?”

Seth studied my face for a moment. “You’re hoping
I’ll drink enough that I’ll forget all about you, but it won’t
work.” He tipped his drink toward me in a little salute. “I’m onto
you, Angel.”

I tried not to, but I smiled. “Good night, Seth.”

I gave my other friends a little wave and then
trudged upstairs. I paused just long enough to drop my gear in my
room before I headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later, I was
snuggled up in bed hoping Seth really would forget about me and let
me sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, I woke to a quiet house. I dragged
on a robe against the chill; Seth had obviously cranked the a/c up
higher than I was used to. I figured he and anyone who had stayed
over would be sleeping off the night before, so I crept downstairs
on little cat feet and headed for the coffee maker.

As I crossed the living room, the tantalizing scents
of coffee and bacon greeted me. Peeking into the kitchen, I found
Seth using a spatula to poke at something in a skillet on the
stove. I tried to ignore the fact that he was dressed in nothing
but snug boxer shorts and moved past him to pour myself a mug of
coffee.

He took his attention off of his cooking long enough
to glance at me.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he said.

I just stared at him. It was that or tell him to blow
me, so I felt that by staying silent, I was actually being quite
polite.

“Breakfast?”

I opened my mouth to ask what he was attempting to
cook, but just about that time, he picked up the skillet and tilted
it, slid the spatula inside, and lifted out a big, beautiful,
cheese-topped omelet.

“Gimme,” I said.

Seth laughed as he plated the omelet. He handed the
plate to me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “You’re welcome.”

I took my plate and coffee to the table and then
circled back for a fork. Seth was already busy constructing omelet
number two. By the time he was done cooking and joined me at the
table, my breakfast was mostly gone.

“How is it?” he asked.

“Damn tasty. I’d forgotten that you know how to
cook.”

“Thanks to your mom.”

Smiling, I looked up from my plate, which proved to
be a small mistake. Seth Webber is a beautiful, beautiful man, and
he was sitting across the table from me wearing next to nothing.
We’d been friends for a long time, and I’d been attracted to him
for just as long. I had to remind myself that no matter how good he
looked, he was off-limits for a whole host of reasons.

Shaking off my sudden surge of lust, I turned back to
my omelet. “I think Mom was kinda disappointed that you and Chris
were better students of the culinary arts than her only
daughter.”

Seth laughed. “She was not. Amused, maybe, but not
disappointed. She loves when her kids thumb their noses at the
status quo.”

“She does at that.” I finished my last bite of
breakfast and reached for my coffee. “How’s the tour?”

“So far so good,” Seth said around a mouthful of
cheesy goodness. “Kev’s staying out of trouble. The new songs are
going over well. Nothing to complain about.”

I almost asked about his new female friend, but
something stopped me. Maybe I didn’t really want to know just
then.

“Thanks for letting me sleep last night,” I said
instead.

“You looked like you needed it. Besides, I convinced
everyone to come back tomorrow. I can force you to be sociable
then.”

I smiled at him over the top of my coffee mug. “Since
you’re nice enough to give me advance notice this time, you won’t
even have to force me.”

“Even better.”

We continued to make small talk while Seth ate and I
finished my coffee. After, he had to get ready and hurry off to
soundcheck.

“You coming to the show tonight?” he asked when he
came back downstairs, his clothing now covering more skin than it
showed.

“How disappointed will you be if I say ‘no’?”

“Not at all…if you promise to make the show on
Saturday.”

I smiled. “Already have a date for it and
everything.”

Seth’s brows drew together in a little frown. “A
date?”

“Yup. A hot younger chick. Tall, leggy.”

Seth laughed. “I take it Parker is working
Saturday.”

“No, Lori just didn’t want to go with him. I think
there is trouble in Whoville.”

“That sucks. They’re both great kids. Anyway, I gotta
jet.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, like he had earlier. “I’ll
be home late. Don’t wait up.”

He slid on a pair of overpriced sunglasses, scooped
up an equally overpriced backpack, and headed off to play rock
star. I found myself wondering, not for the first time, who Seth
Webber really was. I wondered, too, if even Seth knew the
answer.

I seemed to be surrounded by mysteries that I
couldn’t solve, and I didn’t like it much. So I did what any good
investigator would do and got back to work.

I spent some time trying to get in touch with one of
Sarah’s former co-worker who had moved on to greener pastures. She
had proved easy enough to track down, but she hadn’t returned any
of my calls and she never seemed to be at work when I dropped by. I
was beginning to wonder if she had something to hide.

When my attempt to catch up with the prodigal
couturier proved futile once again, I ended up going home and
trading my Nissan for my Harley Sportster. I hoped that a ride in
the hills might clear my head and give me some insight into my
case.

I wish I could say that my ride actually accomplished
something work-wise, but if I did, I’d be a damn liar. It did clear
my head, though, and it gave me an even greater appreciation for
the area I’d moved to. The world just looks different from the seat
of a bike.

I ended up dropping by my new office before heading
back to Seth’s. I returned a couple of phone calls, snooped a
little more on the internet, and tried again to call Sarah’s MIA
co-worker. Then I made an early night of it.

I went to bed early and woke in the wee hours of the
morning. My growling stomach drove me to crawl out of bed and head
downstairs. While I was standing in front of the fridge, shivering
in my nightshirt and trying to find something that looked like
food, someone came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my
waist. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I whirled around to face my molester. “Jesus, Seth!
Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he meant
it.

Once again, he was dressed in nothing but boxers. He
was also damp from the shower, which made the boxers cling to him
like a second skin. I dragged my eyes up to find him eyeing me much
the way I’d just been eyeing him.

“Nice outfit,” he said.

“You, too.”

Seth grinned. “You find anything in there?” he asked,
gesturing toward the fridge.

“Beer. Soda. The usual.”

“You don’t believe in keeping food in the house, do
you?”

I shrugged. “It tends to slip my mind.”

Seth shook his head and reached past me to open the
freezer door. There wasn’t anything interesting in there,
either.

“You clean out the deep freeze, too?”

“What deep freeze?”

Seth looked at me like I’d sprouted an extra head.
“You haven’t been in the garage?” When I shook my head he asked,
“Where are you keeping the Harley that Elizabeth is having raptures
over?”

“The empty shed by the pool house. It’s not like I
had a garage door opener.”

“Jesus.” Seth sighed and ran a hand through his wet
curls. “I forgot that Elizabeth didn’t have any need for that when
she lived here. C’mere.”