RUNNING STOP SIGNS - A NATALIE NORTH NOVEL
CHAPTER ONE
“There’s no delicate way to say this,” Natalie said. “Your wife had an extramarital affair only weeks before her passing.”
Mr. Lardner sat stoic, straight-faced, crossed his ankles. “As I suspected. Her guilty conscience got the best of her. Accident, my ass. She drove her car off the damn embankment on purpose.”
“You believe your wife committed suicide?”
“Doesn’t matter how she died. Dead is dead.”
Natalie sat behind her office desk, looked in Stanley Lardner’s brown eyes, deep lines across the forehead, crow’s feet etched to his ears. He either lived a hard life or his wife’s recent passing had taken a major toll on him.
“Perhaps you can find peace knowing she’s in Heaven,” Natalie said.
“What the hell? Are you saying I didn’t take good care of her?”
“No, I meant…”
“I was a damn fine husband. I sure as hell don’t deserve to be left a widower at the age of forty-two.”
“Death brings grief and mourning. At some point, the pain will let up, but you’ll never forget her,” Natalie said.
“The only thing time does is mess up everything and make stuff old and stale. Like my marriage.”
Mr. Lardner got out of the chair. Shaky hands, right eye twitched, signs he buried painful nervous energy that ricocheted through his body. Perhaps Natalie would bring out the dartboard she kept in her office that helped jilted spouses release their pent-up anger, decided against it. Lois Lardner lay stiff in a coffin. Encouraging Stanley Lardner to heave darts at the target, in place of Lois’ head, resonated with bad taste. Raul, her loaded .38-caliber revolver and faithful partner, stayed stashed in her top desk drawer.
“Before you go, will you answer one question?” Natalie said.
“Shoot.”
“If your wife’s dead, why did you want to know if she slept with another man? Maybe you’d have been better off if you’d never heard the details.”
“Because no one makes a fool of Stanley Lardner and gets away with it.”
Natalie hadn’t revealed the name of the man Lois Lardner, days before her death, got tangled up octopus-style and cozy with. That philanderer might be guilty of breaking the commandment of respecting other people’s relationships, but who was Natalie to put the unprincipled man in danger’s way by revealing his identity?
“I’ll walk you to the front desk. Amy Cobb, our office manager, will assist you.”
Natalie led Stanley down the hall, into the I Pry, Inc. lobby. She felt bad to take the man’s money, when she’d ripped away any shred of honor he held in his heart toward the vows of his marriage, but business called. She needed the dough. She didn’t work long hours as a private investigator, uncover cheating partners, aid in ruining relationships, for thrills. Solving murders, getting sleazy crooks off the streets, she’d do that for free.
Natalie handed a file folder to Amy.
“Close out costs,” Natalie said.
Mr. Lardner wrote a check, handed the paper money to Amy. Better not bounce. Bad enough to find out your deceased wife found sexual pleasure in the bed of another man. Pay good money to hear that dreaded news? Ouch! Stanley Lardner moved toward the front door.
“Mr. Lardner,” Natalie said, “I’m sure your wife loved you very much.”
Where did that ridiculous comment come from? Natalie knew better than to try to soothe the pain of a cheating wife, but found it difficult to inflict more emotional anguish on her clients, even though they requested her services, asked to be told the shattering news. Toughen up, Natalie. Mr. Lardner, shoulders slumped, muttered to himself on his way out the door. Natalie sighed, long and slow, after the front door slammed.
“That guy’s a delicious specimen of manhood,” Amy said. “I wonder why his wife went for a different guy?”
“If we could answer that question and be paid guests on talk shows, we’d be set for life.”
“Is there a workplace rule against the office help dating a client?”
“You’ve been running this agency for years. I’ve known you to break a few procedures now and then,” Natalie said.
“I’m hitting fifty. Slim pickins’ out there.”
“At least you know Stanley Lardner is currently single.”
“Easy come. Easy go. One thing I’ve learned working at I Pry, Inc. is married today, divorced tomorrow,” Amy said. “Our cases generally end in splitsville.”
“Infidelity pays the bills. Some unions survive the betrayal.”
“How’d Stanley take the news of his wife’s affair?” Amy said.
“He held up okay.”
“You can’t assume he’s fine because he didn’t fire gunshots.”
“I guess you never know for sure what’s bubbling up inside of someone,” Natalie said.
“You and Norton, you’re both too trusting. You’re gonna get yourself in a boatload of trouble one day.”
“Daddy and I, we’re nice, cordial. It’s how we excel in business.”
“In your line of work, it’s safer to be too nasty than too naïve.”
“I’ve done dangerous fieldwork for four years now and I still walk among the living,” Natalie said.
“An airplane hasn’t fallen out of the sky and landed on you, but in the PI world, you face risky business on a daily basis. Don’t let your guard down.”
Amy reached in her desk drawer, pulled out a brown sack. “Paper-bagging it today. I know it’s a little early for lunch, but this hard work you give me makes me hungry.”
“Grits and biscuits?”
“Why is a gal from Texas expected to eat southern foods?”
“The same reason people assume that everyone in California has a tan.”
“This coming from a pasty white Los Angeles girl.”
Natalie glanced at her bare arms. “It’s called porcelain, alabaster skin.”
“I call it whipped cream white. Between the two of us, you look more like a southern belle,” Amy said. “Texas can be Southern or Midwestern, but I say Texas is Texas. Unique!”
“I’m taking a late lunch today. Meeting up with my mom and Nonna. I’d bring you along, but since Daddy’s in the field, I need you to cover the office. Okay, Amy?”
Amy adjusted her bouffant hairdo, swiped lavender lip gloss on her full lips. “I want to look my best in case Stanley Lardner’s buried anger explodes and he comes back to shoot up the place.”
She opened the paper sack, removed Tupperware containers, plastic fork and spoon.
“Come on, Natalie, join me for some grits ’n biscuits.”
Deadly Decisions - A Natalie North Novel
CHAPTER ONE
She sensed someone following her. Natalie glanced over her shoulder; nobody there, picked up her pace through the full Beverly Center Mall parking structure, a Macy’s bag in her left hand, her purse strap slung over her shoulder, a loaded gun inside. Something’s off kilter. She slipped her right hand in her handbag, gripped a .38-caliber revolver. Up ahead she spotted a parked security cart.
“Hey, miss,” a man’s voice said.
Natalie wheeled around. A white male ran up, shaved head, trench coat. No pants, no shoes, black socks with the coat buttoned. Oh boy, here it comes.
“How’d you like some of this?”
The idiot ripped open the coat, buttons popped off, his manhood ready to salute the flag. Natalie looked straight in his eyes, held a stare. This flasher messed with the wrong girl.
“What would your mother say?”
She thought to make light of the sleazy incident, tell him she’d seen bigger, must be a cold day, kick him where it hurts. Better not push this whack job over the edge. She wasn’t going to give him the look of shock he craved. From the cheesy grin on his face, he liked to show off his junk. Natalie pulled out her gun, aimed the weapon at the pervert’s chest. She believed the power of the revolver caused his dingis to droop, didn’t need to check it out. If this creep got his rocks off by scaring her, she’d beat him at his own game, leave him shaking. If he’d planned on having his way with her, she’d shoot the attention-seeker in the heart.
“Hands in the air!”
The pervert did what she said. Good boy. Good old gun.
“You have two choices. You wait here while I call the cops, or I blow off your manhood.”
“You look hot holding a gun. Too chicken shit to use it.”
She curled her finger tighter on the trigger.
“Pow, pow, bang, bang. Catch my drift?”
The flasher’s eyes grew bigger, ready to burst out in tears.
“You should see your face. Far more entertaining than the little guy you showed me.”
She hoped the man didn’t charge her, try to grab the gun. What a difference a few minutes make. When she entered the parking structure, she mentally pieced together the new outfit she bought: flared dress jeans, baby blue angora sweater, four-inch black stilettos. Moments later, she had to pull a gun on a full-fledged flasher. She heard a car engine, relieved when the security cart pulled up, parked, uniformed driver behind the wheel. Saved her a call to the cops. If she were a policewoman, she could make the arrest. A PI? Didn’t have the power to take someone into custody. Not yet. Had to conduct a citizen’s arrest, hold the guy until a sworn officer showed up.
A Passion For Prying
Murder Can Be Messy
