Page 23 of Paternal Instincts
“Yep. Quaid and Jordyn did a preliminary interview with him before taking off to the house to chat with the wife.”
“And?”
“I’ve got two names he wants me to look into, but not a lot of detail. That’s where you come in. As I said on the phone, Quaid won’t walk away from this, so I’m giving him all the support I can. We’re supposed to be on parental leave as of today.”
Ruiz handed my phone back and nodded, spinning to his computer. “Then let’s do it. What have we got so far?”
I knew Ruiz would back me up. He couldn’t help it where Quaid was concerned. He worried about my husband’s mental health as much as I did.
“Jude Marigold. Male. Early to mid-thirties. Works for a company called NexGen. He supposedly has a gambling problem, ergo, possibly financial issues. The other red flag is Clementine Prescott. She was the Davises’ nanny until recently. Apparently, the wife fired her for reasons unknown.”
Ruiz sat with his fingers poised over the keyboard as though waiting for something more. When I didn’t go on, he dropped his hands to his lap and spun to face me. “That’s it?”
“For now. Come on. You’ve worked with less. Quaid said he’d get more info and send it along as soon as possible. Start with Jude. He and Nixon are business partners. There’s friction there. Apparently, Nixon recently accused him of embezzling funds and threatened a lawsuit.”
“I’ll be skating some dicey legal lines.”
“It’s why we love you.”
Ruiz worked his magic. In a flash, the website for NexGen filled the screen, along with pictures and biographies of its founders. Nixon looked younger, so I imagined Jude’s photograph was also dated. Ruiz selected Jude Marigold’s profile and skimmed it, taking notes on a yellow legal pad as he went.
Watching Ruiz work fascinated me. He easily followed the intricate threads of someone’s online life, picking out keywords, expanding his searches, and discovering more information than a standard background check would ever produce.
In under thirty minutes, we had a rounded picture of thirty-four-year-old Jude Alexi Marigold, from his complete educationalbackground to his dating history going back to high school, along with academic awards and scholarships. We knew where he lived, where his wife worked, where his kids went to daycare, and what he drove. Because of an article inThe Globe and Mail, we knew he won a significant poker tournament several years ago. What he took home from that win was not revealed, but it backed up Nixon’s claim that Jude was a gambler.
Jude’s criminal background check didn’t show so much as a parking ticket or a dodged jury summons. Unfortunately, Ruiz couldn’t legally dig into anything financial without a warrant, but we had a more rounded picture of Jude Marigold.
Ruiz flipped to a new page on his legal pad and started a fresh search on twenty-year-old Clementine Prescott. Considering the population of Toronto and not having any concrete information about where the girl lived, only that she attended York University, I figured she might be trickier to locate, but I was wrong.
Her unusual name combined with the educational institute helped, and in no time, Ruiz pulled up a social media profile picture of a drop-dead gorgeous redheaded woman in a recognizable location on the York campus. She perfectly matched our parameters.
We sat back simultaneously, jaws unhinged, Ruiz seemingly as shell-shocked as me.
“Wow,” he said, voice croaking. “She’s… really fucking beautiful.”
“I was just going to say that. Please confirm she’s legal, or I’m going straight to hell.”
“Twenty. Legal.”
“Like a model.”
“Centerfold… Hey, Doyle?”
“Yeah.”
“Donot, underanycircumstances, tell my wife Iwowed and almost lost my eyeballs.”
I chuckled. “You and me both. Ogling would see me castrated. Have you met my husband? It’s probably in my marriage contract. In fact, I know it is. My god, turn it off, for fuck’s sake.”
Ruiz snorted and clicked to close the window. “We take this to the grave. We cannot be held responsible for innate reactions to the superiorly made human species.”
“Agreed.”
“Noticing attractiveness is not a crime.”
“Nope, and I’m well versed in the criminal code.”
Ruiz offered a fist to bump, and I reciprocated.
