LITMIR.BIZ

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and the cream body was streaked with dirt.

      I glanced at the entrance drive, which curved into the portico and exited out again, angling down another long, leaf-canopied lane, then at Jazz. He was in profile, looking at the house. He could have been posing for a J. Crew print ad. He looked wonderfully clean and beautiful against the decaying property. Briefly, I wondered what he did for a living. Did he even have a job? Or, was he on the dole with Nana’s money? He seemed so…untouched…that it was difficult to believe he’d ever toiled at anything.

      A stiff breeze had kicked up and leaves swirled over his convertible BMW and my Volvo wagon. They settled onto his upholstery but Jazz didn’t appear to notice.

      “Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” I said. My job was done, and I was kind of wondering when Jazz planned to break out the checkbook.

      I don’t know what I expected to come next, but he suddenly shook my hand, then impulsively hugged me. I could smell his scent, that same citrus cologne, and I felt the first stirrings of sexual interest. The man was just so attractive. He released me before things could become uncomfortable, which was probably a good thing.

      “Thanks,” he said.

      “No problemo,” I said lightly, turning toward my car. My stomach growled, and I realized it was dinnertime. My thoughts ran ahead to food and a debriefing with Dwayne. I was about to ask Jazz where to send the bill when he reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of cash, then ripped off six one-hundred-dollar bills and handed them to me.

      I was dazzled by the money.

      “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk about Nana in depth,” he said, climbing into his car. “Oh, and I didn’t say it in front of Logan and Ben—but Eileen’s been let go.”

      “The caretaker? You really think she stole?”

      “I don’t know. The family decided she had too much influence on Nana.”

      I got into my car slowly, carefully tucking the money into a safe little pocket of my wallet before starting the engine. I had no idea whether I was still employed or not. Meeting Jazz the next day held definite possibilities, but there was a niggling doubt associated with his family and their accusations concerning Eileen that followed me all the rest of the evening and through dinner with Dwayne.

      Dwayne and I left Lou’s in companionable silence. It wasn’t until we pulled into my drive that we brought up the Purcells again, and it was Dwayne who broached the subject. “So, they want you to be the caretaker.”

      “No. That’s not what I said. Where do you get that?” But I knew. Somewhere in the back of my mind the same thought had been circling.

      Dwayne’s mouth uttered the thought perched on the tip of my tongue: “Why else were you there? Sounds like Jazz told you Eileen was out for a reason.”

      “I’m not a caretaker. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t want to do it, whatever it is. And besides, they’d have to pay me far more than what the job’s worth.”

      “Good.”

      “I mean it.”

      “Even better.”

      “You don’t believe me?”

      “I want you to do something for me,” Dwayne said, adroitly jumping to the next item on his mental to-do list. “And I don’t want the Purcells to get in the way.”

      “What do you want?”

      “You any good at shadowing?”

      I gave him a look. He knew darn good and well that I suck at following people. I have no gift for subterfuge. “No.”

      “I need someone to follow someone for me. A woman. And this woman spends a lotta time at the spas: massage, mud packs, painting the toes and fingers, facials. I don’t know what all. It’s boggling. I need someone to follow her there and see who she’s meeting.”

      “To a spa?” He nodded. There was a hint of amusement around his eyes. He knows that I’m not the spa type. But I could tell he was serious about the assignment. “Okay. What do you want me to do and when?”

      “Tomorrow. Follow her into Complete Me. It’s on Hawthorne. Fancy. Order up whatever’s she’s getting. Her next appointment’s at one.”

      “How do you know?”

      “Her husband’s the client. Thinks his lovely spouse is cheating on him. Thinks Complete Me gives a whole new meaning to hot rock therapy.”

      “Who’s paying for my spa experience?”

      “The client.” Dwayne smiled. “It’s a freebie, Jane.”

      Free and be. When hooked together, two of my favorite words. “And after Complete Me, follow her to her next destination?”

      “And wherever else,” Dwayne agreed.

      “I can do that.”

      “What if Jazz Purcell calls and wants you to take over as Nana’s jailer?”

      “Dwayne, it’s not going to happen.”

      “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

      “I mean it.”

      His answer was a smile that said he knew better.

      Chapter Four

      I made my nearly three-mile run to the Coffee Nook the next morning. I was still out of shape from a couple of months of recuperation after surviving a nasty fall in August. Consequently, by the time I arrived at the Nook, I ended up hanging on one of the door handles, struggling to catch my breath, dripping sweat. I’d thought about bringing The Binkster with me, but she’s really not in love with jogging. Even long walks cause her to try and sit down halfway through. A circle or two around the backyard makes her happy. Sometimes I force her to come with me, and afterward she acts like she needs to sleep for a week. So much for the myth that dogs have more energy than humans. Maybe terriers—or chihuahuas.

      Billy Leonard was inside, seated on one of the stools. “Hey,” I greeted him, glad to see a friend.

      Billy’s a CPA but you’d never know it. His appearance is not what I’d call buttoned-down. Today he looked like he’d just stepped out of the tumble dryer. “What are you working on, Jane?”

      “A job.”

      “Process serving?”

      “No…do you know the Purcells?”

      “The Purcells? Don’t know ’em personally. Know a few stories. Your job involve them?”

      “Jazz Purcell…Jasper…asked me to meet his grandmother and see if I thought she was still mentally capable of controlling the finances. The family’s worried she’ll give away the farm, the jewels, whatever isn’t nailed down in a trust.”

      “Orchid Purcell?”

      “That’s right.”

      Billy thought a moment, running his hand quickly through his hair several times. It had been pretty well combed before this ravaging. Now he looked wild. “What about the daughter? The one that went to the mental asylum?”

      “Lily was Jazz’s mother. She died at the asylum.”

      “Big investigation, right? Lawsuit…sanitarium responsible?”

      “I don’t really know.”

      “Something went on there. The old man die right afterward?”

      “James ‘Percy’ Purcell the…third, I believe? Orchid’s husband? I don’t think so. I thought he lived quite a while.”

      Billy snapped his fingers. “He was never the same. Kinda took his mind, I think. Killed his will to live. He was always a big mover and shaker, then bam. No more. What’s the son’s name? The

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