Page 36 of Puzzle for Two

Flint’s brows rose. “Areyou afraid of looking stupid?”

Zach said bitterly, “Not particularly. It seems like I have plenty of experience at it.”

“There’s another possibility,” Flint said.

“Which is what?”

“We go to Mrs. Kaschak-Beacher, share our suspicions of her husband, and see if she wants to hire us to stop him.”

Chapter Ten

Zach didn’t enjoy sleeping alone.

He liked the warmth of another body sharing his bed. He liked sharing a quiet late-night chat or waking up to smiling eyes or—whatever. Hell, he liked cuddling, although that was probably not something a PI should admit to. So sue him. He just liked having someone there—even if that someone was sound asleep—when he woke from a bad dream. He’d been havinga lotof bad dreams lately. And Monday night was no exception.

Mr. Bigglesworth, however, did his best to fill the void, and Zach woke on Tuesday morning to Mr. B. batting at his hand, as he did when trying to get some reaction from his mouse toys.

“Hey!” Zach snatched his nipped finger back. “Not so hard!”

Mr. B. objected—or maybe he was simply pointing out the lateness of the hour. Zach peered at clock on the bed stand, pushed his hair out of his face, and peered closer.

“Hell.” He kicked the blankets off, then stumbled into the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker and feed Mr. B. He retrieved the soggy morning paper from the bottom front step, dropped it off in the kitchen, and headed to the bathroom for a hot and steamy shower.

Despite the bracing combination of eucalyptus mist and green-tea soap, his memory of the night before felt slightly out of focus. He agreed with Flint, in principle, about speaking to Zora Kaschak-Beacher about the potential threat to her safety. But he also felt it was only right to talk to Alton as well and give him a chance to further explain his position. After all, Alton was his client. Alton had come to him for help. And, while his doubts about and distaste for Alton grew daily, it didn’t change the fact that he had an obligation to, at the very least, treat him fairly.

Flint had not seen it that way. Which wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Whatwasmaybe a surprise was that Flint, having stated his position, didn’t try to push or pressure Zach into making a decision then and there.

“Sleep on it,” he’d said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

That’s where they’d left it.

Zach was grateful for the breathing room, but a few hours of uneasy sleep had not helped him reach a decision. Or at least, did not leave him feeling better about what he viewed as his only real choice.

Plus, in the cold light of day—well, dawn—the dramatic turns of the night before felt distant and dreamlike. Starting with Ben popping out of the bamboo hedge and ending with Alton informing Zach he too might be a target.

Well, no, the final moment of surreality—was that a word?—had been when Flint shared his theory that Zach’s client was actually plotting to murder his wife.

Not that Zach dismissed Flint’s concerns. When he’d first flipped through Alton’s dossier, it had occurred to him that, on paper at least, Zora looked like the more likely candidate for murder.

Even so… It was just sobizarre.

Then again, this case had been bizzarro from day one.

He had to admire Flint’s clarity of vision and straightforward approach to problem-solving. Not that that would work in all circumstances—Zach wasn’t even sure Flint’s approach was the right one inthesecircumstances—but there was something relaxing about someone who didn’t constantly second-guess himself. Something refreshing about someone so…unblinkingly pragmatic.

Zach turned off the shower tap, shook the water from his hair, and climbed out of the tub.

He went mechanically through his morning routine of tooth brushing and shaving and blow-drying his hair.

Alton was already not happy with him. Was there a way to ask if his hiring Davies Detective Agency had actually been a cover for plans to murder his wife thatwouldn’tend with the termination of their contract? Probably not.

That wasn’t even Zach’s first concern. Alton was wealthy and, in this part of the state at least, influential. Not someone Zach could afford to have as an enemy. Not because he was personally afraid—although he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of mayhem or murder—but because of the damage that could be done to Davies Detective Agency and, by extension, Brooke and his mother.

Last night, Flint hadn’t seemed to share those fears, but he too had had a few hours to reflect and consider. Maybe he would feel differently about approaching Zora directly. Maybe they could come up with a Plan B. Or even a Plan C that did not leave them in such a strategically precarious position.

“Maybe,” Zach told his reflection, slowly emerging from the steamy mists fogging the bathroom mirror. “We’ll see.”

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