“Thanks for helping me.” She walked them outside. “Dinner’s on me.”
“Come to the restaurant and dinner is my treat.” Hudson jumped into the truck, started the engine, and rolled down the window. “I hope those secret papers lead to a buried treasure.”
Maverick stepped close and peered into her eyes. “I’ll take you up on that dinner.”
She stroked his arm, her fingers trailing down his bulging triceps. “Deal.”
“My hearing is at nine thirty tomorrow. Will you be there?”
“Of course I will,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.
Hudson laid on his horn. “Either get a room or get in the truck.”
Maverick hopped in and shot her a smile that made her heart skip a beat.
Returning inside, Carly pulled the white envelope from her computer bag and laid the contents on the kitchen table. In all the years she’d worked with her grandfather, he never kept professional secrets. After sifting through the loose papers, she found his familiar-looking case summary sheet. At the top, he’d written:
JOE CLARK
Pierce Stone always posed as life insurance investigator Joe Clark when he didn’t want people to know he was a private eye. Per usual, Grandpa Pierce’s notes were sparse.
Client Alice Murphy, 67. Raised child as daughter. Erin Murphy, 39. Aunt, not mother (murdered, CC). Has Alz.
Wants Erin to know. KILLER?
From what Carly could deduce, Erin Murphy’s biological mother had been murdered and Erin’s aunt, Alice Murphy, had raised her, but never told Erin the truth. Alice Murphy, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, wanted her daughter to know the truth and this cold case solved. Alice Murphy had hired her grandfather to find her sister’s killer.
She opened her laptop and searched his online files. This case had never been logged.
The front door opened. Her roommate bounded into the kitchen and screamed, then clutched her chest. “I about had a heart attack. What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t see my car out front?”
“I didn’t notice. I have a short story due tomorrow that I haven’t even started. I was lost in thought. Hey, are you working from home?”
“Sure am.”
“Yay, I’d love the company.” Tabitha dropped her satchel on the table. “My imagination has shriveled up like a raisin.” She snort-laughed. “Hey, that’s good.” Yanking a notebook from her backpack, she scribbled it down, then peered at the papers strewn on the table. “Client Alice Murphy, raised child as daughter. Aunt, not mother…Killer.” Her eyes grew large. “Killer? Whoa, this is some serious stuff.”
Carly crammed the papers back into the envelope.
“That would make one hell of a story!”
Oh, God, no. “You can’t use this.”
“No worries. I write fiction.” Tabitha snatched an apple from the fridge. “I’ll be working in my bedroom.”
Never having run into this type of challenge before, Carly nibbled the inside of her lip. I don’t have an office and I can’t work from here. I could ask her to move out. Then, I wouldn’t have anyone snooping over my shoulder, but I’d lose her rent money. And I really need that extra cash.
Her phone rang and she fished it from her handbag. “Hey, Cassie.”
“Would it kill you to call me Cassandra?”
Carly rolled her eyes. “What’s up?”
“Just confirming you’ll be out of the office tomorrow.”
“I moved out today. The space is yours.”
