Page 33 of 3rd Tango
“That kind of operation takes time and finesse,” I state.
I’m impressed by Meg’s continued patience. “We did get the name of the woman, and I took a picture,” she tells our mother. “Let’s get you home. I, for one, could use a cold drink.”
Mom doesn’t even seem to register what she’s said. “I have a bone to pick with you, Charlie.”
Seriously?
I don’t reply, once again wondering how my life jumped the normal tracks.
Matt takes the alley to my parents’ place, headlights flashing on the back of the house. “Does Dad know you’re running around in the middle of the night?” I ask.
As she bails out the side door with Meg, Mom says, “He’s still on his fishing trip.”
In a way, that’s good. I follow her inside, Matt bringing up the rear. We file into the kitchen, and Meg goes for a glass of water. I wish for something stronger.
Mom stands at the counter and taps a fingernail on the marble. “I just got off the phone with Alfonzo. He told me you fired him.”
“Technically, I never hired him. I made an offer, then thought better of it. It’s nothing personal.”
“Why would you do that?” From her expression, it’sverypersonal. “He was looking forward to helping and working on this investigation.”
I debate telling her the truth, but I can’t share the information about the internal investigation, nor do I plan to tell her he has a crush on her.
Matt has taken several steps back, pulled out his phone, and is acting as though he’s not part of this conversation. Meg sips her water and watches the match between me and Mom with a humorous glint in her eyes.
“It’s best for all of us. We need someone who is detached from the outcome, that understands the legal and forensic side of serial killers, but isn’t emotionally involved.” I offer the same excuse I used on him. “The best thing for you is to avoid conflict of interest, and unfortunately, if I hire Al to work on the case, we definitely have that.”
She screws up her lips in a classic thinking-it-over pose.
Good. I continue. “Meg and I are directly related to you, so there’s already an issue there. We could skew our theories and ideas simply because we want to make you happy. I need someone outside of the family and Schock Investigations to give us a nonbiased viewpoint if anything crucial comes up. Do you understand?”
I see the gears in her head turning, her mind searching for someplace to attack. She unscrews her lips. “He doesn’t have anybody, Charlie. He has the volunteer work with the citizen’s group. That’s it. When you offered him a job, you can’t imagine how happy he was. I want him on the case. If not, then give him something else to work on, but don’t take the job away.”
Meg looks at me with a weighted expression. Distraction is my only hope. “Why were you talking to Al at one in the morning?”
Mom’s brows dip. “What does that have to do with anything?”
She’s hedging. My stomach drops a little, wondering if she might have a tiny crush on him, too. “I’m curious. Dad’s gone and you’re talking to another guy in the middle of the night?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically and laughs off the veiled accusation. “For your information, Al created a private Facebook group for the committee where we share things about different cases. We brainstorm. He and I often have trouble sleeping, and tonight, I saw he was online and messaged him. I wanted to see how his first day with you went.” Her brows go back up and she shoots me an accusing look. “He said you fired him before he even got started. Of course, I wanted to know what was going on, so I called him.”
“And what did he say?” Meg asks before I can.
“He quoted the same baloney Charlie just spat out.”
She leans forward, once more her face pleading. “He told me he’d do pro bono work if that’s what it takes just to have his fingers back in the investigating pie. He misses it, and he really likes you two. Isn’t there anything you can give him to make him happy again?”
There’s no arguing with her, and I’m tired. The adrenaline rush is fading. I long for a glass of wine and JJ’s hands on my neck and shoulders, massaging away the tension.
“I’ll figure something out,” I tell her. Not a promise, not a lie.
Meg shoots me another look, a question mark behind her gaze. I shrug.
Taking a few steps forward, I kiss Mom on the cheek. “What are you doing tomorrow? Do you want to come by the office and help us?”
“I’m…busy.”
Meg has moved in to give our mother a hug, as well, but this stops her in her tracks. “With what?”
