Before leaving the theater for the drive back to Fiddler’s Folly, Tempest started a call and tossed her phone onto the passenger seat while it rang. She drove out of the parking lot.
“I want to hire you,” she said to the man who answered.
Blackburn grunted. “You can’t.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, his grunt reminded her of how much he’d aged in the five years she’d known him. The case of Emma Raj was one of the few he’d never solved, and it wore him down. His once brown hair was replaced by a full head of bright white, and he’d retired far younger than he’d intended to. He was now lying to everyone in his life—including himself—by pretending that he enjoyed gardening in his early retirement.
“I know I don’t have my formerly large salary, but I’ve still got credit cards.” That wasn’t actually true. After her Vegas house was foreclosed, all she had was a debit card. And she was pretty sure the balance had shrunk to barely enough to buy two tickets to a show like the one she used to headline in Las Vegas. She’d paid for her jeep in cash years ago when she was flush, so it hadn’t been repossessed with most of the rest of her belongings from her old life in Las Vegas.
She’d rented the theater with the meager advance funds from the TV deal. The rental wasn’t an extravagance, though, because the theater had been shuttered for several years, so the rent was cheaper than any alternatives. She had needed somewhere to practice her farewell show to dedicate to her mom, and the Whispering Creek Theater helped with inspiration.
“I’m not getting involved in an active police investigation,” Blackburn said.
“Then what do you do as a PI?” Tempest glowered at the phone resting on her passenger seat, even though he couldn’t see her. “And don’t tell me it’s looking into unfaithful spouses.”
“I haven’t done much of anything yet. I just got the license. Your grandfather was my first client.”
“When he asked you to look into Julian Rhodes because of the lawsuit?”
“That’s right. Your grandfather was right—Rhodes was a sleazy guy—and Ash was right about something else. I’ve been bored in retirement. Gardening isn’t what I thought it would be. Do you realize how slowly plants grow?”
Tempest held her tongue. Did he really think this was news to her? “I’m sorry to hear that. But that sounds like you want to help.”
“Shouldn’t you be off investigating with your Scooby gang?”
“Ivy is working three jobs, if you count studying to finish her degree in the evenings. Gideon is getting ready for his first gallery show. And Sanjay is at the airport on his way back to Vancouver for a few more nights of sold-out performances.”
“You mean I’m your backup plan.”
“I wouldn’t put it like that. I’m asking you to do something none of us can do.”
He groaned. “Just because I’m not in law enforcement any longer doesn’t mean I’m going to break the law.”
“Who said anything about breaking the law? I’m talking about what I want to know about two old investigations.”
“You’re not talking about more intel on Julian Rhodes and his missing wife?”
“No. The police have that angle covered. Paloma Rhodes’s phone pinged in Michigan, and they still seem sure she’s the killer. I’m not, though, so what I need is someone who can track down information at two police departments.” Officer Quinn had been the one to let that slip to her, which she was sure Rinehart wouldn’t appreciate.
“I’m no longer—”
“You’re still the best person to reach out to the police. It’s nothing confidential. Really. Old case files and evidence that should already have been released from two former cases that were already closed.”
“This really isn’t related to Julian Rhodes?”
“It is and it isn’t. The cases are connected. I just don’t know how yet.”
“What cases?”
“First, my aunt’s ‘accidental’ death in Edinburgh ten years ago. My grandmother asked about the cold case files when she was in Edinburgh earlier this year, but she couldn’t find anyone who could help her. But if someone like you contacts them—”
“I see your point. So the other case is your mom’s disappearance in Hidden Creek five years ago?”
“No. I already know all about that one. But it’s something related to her. A book that the author Corbin Colt was writing. His manuscript that was seized as part of the séance-gone-wrong investigation. I have permission from the owner to have it, but Rinehart is giving me the runaround. The case is closed, so I should have been able to get it, but I was told I couldn’t have it yet.”
“Huh.” Blackburn paused. Tempest didn’t mind the silence. She just hoped he hadn’t hung up. “This is the manuscript you think has information about your mom’s disappearance?”
“Corbin Colt lived in Hidden Creek and knew my mom. He knew more about her and my aunt than we thought. Rinehart’s ego is bruised because I’m the one who solved the Colt case. I don’t know if that’s why he’s stalling on the manuscript, but he can’t say no to you.” She waited for a reply, and when he didn’t say no, she knew he couldn’t refuse in spite of himself. “So, are you in?”