Dimples caught sight of me, and his lips turned up into a big grin that sent his dimples swirling. From here, they looked like little tornadoes in his cheeks. Naturally, I smiled back and made my way to his desk. He jumped to his feet and gave me a big hug. Unfortunately, he squeezed my injured arm, and I flinched.
He noticed and quickly pulled away. “Are you hurt?” I’d automatically covered my arm with my hand, so he focused on it. “What happened? Let me see.”
I pulled my hand away and lifted my short-sleeved shirt, so he could see my wound. “Just a few stitches from a knife wound.”
He examined it, thinking it looked worse than a few stitches, especially with the yellow color of bruising all around it. Had someone squeezed my injury on purpose? His questioning gaze caught mine. Is that what had happened?
I nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. The cut is the result of the first time the guy tried to kill me. After he was ordered to kidnap me instead, he liked to squeeze my arm to keep me in line.”
Dimples’s face hardened, and his jaw tightened with anger.
“It’s okay,” I said, wanting to calm him. “The guy’s dead, so it’s all good.”
He shook his head, and a few choice swear words ripped through his mind. His gaze caught mine and his eyes widened. “Uh… sorry. But what the hell?”
He wondered if it had happened because of the police case or because of Manetto. Had the mob boss nearly gotten me killed again? Knowing I’d heard that, he heaved out a breath, then spoke softly so only I could hear him. “I can help you take him down. You know that, right?”
I sighed. Not this again. It was an ongoing argument between us, and I did not want to go there right now… or ever. It was just too late for that. I pushed my initial anger away to placate him. He only had my best interests at heart. How could I be mad about that? “I know, and I appreciate it.”
“So what happened?”
I sighed. “It’s a long story, and I promise to tell you all about it another time. Right now, I think there’s someone you wanted me to meet?”
“Oh… right.” He glanced around the office, thinking that she’d left to get coffee in the break room and should have been back by now.
“Maybe she left the building and went to a coffee shop? The coffee around here isn’t the best, right?”
“Uh… that’s true.” He was thinking that getting a cappuccino with whipped cream and sprinkles was more Willow’s style. She wouldn’t think twice about leaving, but how did I know that? Did I get a premonition?
I laughed and he smiled. “That must be it,” I agreed. “So tell me about your case.”
His smile dropped. “We still haven’t found a body, and Willow didn’t pick up much from the woman at the hospital. It would help if we had the woman’s name, but she doesn’t remember anything, and her purse is missing.”
“Wow. That’s nuts. So Willow hasn’t helped much, huh?” Deep down, I was happy she’d failed; how crazy was that? Dimples pursed his lips and gave me a knowing smile. I just shrugged. “Maybe I should talk to the victim?”
“Yeah… maybe. But are you cleared for that? How did your counselling session go anyway?”
“It was good. Bob Spicer is great, and he cleared me to get back to work.”
“Good to hear. Maybe we should—”
“Harris,” Chief Winder said, coming out of his office. “We found a body. I need you to head down there—Shelby?” He caught sight of me, and a guilty flush stained his cheeks. “Uh… you’re back. That’s great.”
Before I could respond, a woman stepped out of his office behind him. Tall and thin, she had long, brown hair with blond streaks and bangs. Her hair lay in wispy tendrils that framed her square jaw. Heavy makeup accented her large eyes and red lips, and she wore a white, v-neck, bohemian-style peasant dress that hit her legs several inches above the knee. With wedge-style sandals on her feet, she was nearly as tall as the chief.
Keeping with the peasant style, she wore several beaded necklaces that dipped toward her cleavage, with matching beads that jangled on her wrists and ankles. If she was going for the fortune-teller look, all that she lacked was a scarf around her head.
She caught sight of me, and her brow wrinkled. She was thinking, uh-oh, I must be Shelby Nichols, and I was staring at her like I wanted to kill her. This was bad karma. She’d thought she’d have more time. Now she’d just have to pretend she didn’t know anything about me.
Noticing my pursed lips, the chief hurried toward me with a smile and an outstretched hand. “I can’t tell you enough how much your help meant to Martin. You really came through with the case. It’s still hard to believe how much you were able to do.”
He dropped my hand and turned to Willow, who’d followed him to my side. “Shelby was instrumental in taking down a drug ring, and the mob family behind it, just last week in New York City. It was huge.”
Willow sent a reserved smile my way, while the chief quickly introduced us. “Shelby, this is Willow Maguire. She’s been helping us while you were gone.”
This close, I could see that the blond streaks were mostly to cover the gray in her hair. Black eyeliner framed dark, long eyelashes that could only be fake, and she smelled like smoky incense and flowers, or some kind of patchouli. I’d say she was in her late forties or early fifties. Without all the heavy makeup, she would have looked more wholesome. Instead, she looked like she was playing a part.
I strained to listen to her thoughts, but she guarded them well, easily slipping into her persona with the talent of a
