The girl at the desk had dark, curly hair, red-lipsticked lips, and a tight, slim form. She was working through some forms, those red lips pursed in concentration, and she didn’t look up at him.
“Hang on,” she said. “Just let me finish this part up, before I lose my train of thought.”
Zachary stood there as patiently as possible, which wasn’t too hard with a pretty girl to look at. She finally filled in the last space and looked up at him. She raised an eyebrow.
“You must be Kenzie,” Zachary said.
“I don’t know if I must be, but I am. Kenzie Kirsch. And you are?”
“Zachary Goldman. From Goldman Investigations.”
“A private investigator?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t usually introduce himself that way because it gave people funny ideas about the kind of life he lived and how he spent his time. Most people did not think about mounds of paperwork or painstaking accident scene reconstructions when they thought about private investigation. They thought about Dick Tracy and Phillip Marlowe and all the old hardboiled detectives. When really most of a private investigator’s life was mind-numbingly boring, and he didn’t need to carry a gun.
“And what can I do for you today, Mr. Private Investigator?”
“Zachary.”
“Zachary,” she repeated, losing the teasing tone and giving him a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to order a copy of a medical examiner’s report. Declan Bond.”
“Bond. That’s the boy? The drowning victim?”
“That’s the one.”
She looked at him, shaking her head slightly. “Why do you need that one? It’s closed. A determination was made that it was an accident.”
“I know. The family would like someone else to look at it. Just to set their minds at ease.”
“You’re not going to find anything. It’s an open-and-shut case.”
“That’s fine. They just want someone to take a look. It’s not a reflection on the medical examiner. You know how families are. They need to be able to move on. They’re not quite ready to let it go yet. One last attempt to understand…”
Kenzie gave a little shrug. “Okay, then… there’s a form…” She bent over and searched through a drawer full of files to find the right one. Zachary had filled them out before. Usually, he could manage to do an end-run and Bradley would just pull the file for him. Officially, he was supposed to fill one out. He didn’t want to end up in hot water with the new administrator, so he leaned on the counter and filled the form out carefully.
She went on with her own forms and filing, not trying to fill the silence with small talk. Which Zachary thought was nice. When he was finished, he put the pen back in its holder and handed the form to Kenzie. To the side of the work she was doing. Not right in front of her face. She again ignored him while she finished the section she was on, then picked it up to look it over.
“You have nice printing,” she observed, her voice going up slightly. She laughed at herself. “No reason why you shouldn’t,” she said quickly. “It’s just that the majority of the forms that get submitted here are… well, to say they were chicken scratch would be insulting to chickens.”
Zachary chuckled. “That’s the difference between a cop and a private investigator.”
“Neat handwriting?”
“Yeah. Cops have to fill out so many forms, they don’t care. You can just call them if you need something clarified. Me… I know if I don’t fill it out right, it’s just going to go in the circular file.” He nodded in the direction of the garbage can.
“I wouldn’t throw it out,” she protested.
“If you couldn’t read it? What else would you do?”
“I would at least try to call you.”
Zachary indicated the form. “That’s why I printed my phone number so neatly.”
Kenzie smiled and nodded. “It’s very clear,” she approved.
“You’ll call me?”
“I’ll let you know when it’s ready to be picked up.”
Zachary hovered there for an extra few seconds. He was enjoying the give-and-take of his conversation with her but didn’t want her to accuse him of being creepy. He wasn’t the type who asked a girl out the first time he saw her.
He gave her another smile and walked away from the desk. Maybe next time.
Chapter Three
Zachary had expected that he would need to meet with Spencer Bond, Declan’s father, at his office. Men tended to want to act from a position of power, so he would want Zachary to see that he was well-respected and had some kind of influence. Spencer had surprised him by inviting him to the house. In the middle of the day. Surely, so long after Declan’s death, he would be working again. Men tended to throw themselves back into their jobs.
Zachary decided Spencer must have taken the day off, or at least the afternoon, in order to meet with Zachary and answer all his questions.
The man who came to the door was similar to Zachary in age. Somewhere in his mid-to-late thirties. He had a young face. Dark hair. Clean shaven. He wore a suit and tie, so maybe he hadn’t taken the day off work. Maybe he worked close by and had just taken an hour off to meet with Zachary. That was a little disappointing since Zachary figured he’d need more time than that to go over all the pertinent details.
“Mr. Bond?” Zachary asked politely.
“Yes. You must be Mr. Goldman of Goldman Investigations.”
“That’s me. Just Zachary, please.”
“Zachary.” Spencer looked at him for a moment and didn’t offer to shake hands. He nodded and opened the door farther, motioning for Zachary to enter.
It wasn’t a huge house, but it was simple and spacious. Bigger than anywhere Zachary had ever lived. Well, any house he had lived in, anyway. A few coats hung on pegs at the door. A blue man’s coat. A couple of short women’s jackets. There were a couple
