Chapter 8

 

 

 

 

“YOU’RE NOT going to give me any details?” Octavia asked.

“None to tell,” Linda chirped. “Three cheese sticks and six Lifesavers, please.”

Octavia was skeptical—the fact that Linda and Oakley had blatantly avoided each other during the Saturday class coupled with the fact that her sister was still so sensitive at the mention of Oakley’s name told her different. Plus yesterday Linda had been uncharacteristically quiet. She’d asked Octavia to watch the kids while she ran errands alone, then had come home and retreated to her bedroom with the workbook from the class.

Even more curious, this morning she’d dressed in slacks and a top that wasn’t wash and wear.

Octavia found the snack items and handed them over. “I noticed you didn’t go through the newspaper’s coupons yesterday.”

“There are more interesting things to do in life than clip coupons.”

Octavia blinked. “What have you done with my sister?”

Linda closed the vending machine with a bang and locked it. “I noticed on the directory in the lobby there are six insurance agencies in this building. Why don’t we make some cold calls and see if they need an investigator?”

“That’s a great idea.” She picked up one of the supply boxes and jogged after her sister. As they descended in the elevator, she decided she liked this new Linda. Whatever had transpired between her and Oakley had lit a fire under her. And Octavia was relieved because she didn’t want to see her sister get yoked to another man who would dim her bright light.

In the lobby, they scanned the directory to memorize the office locations. Linda eyed the security guard warily and lowered her voice. “Let’s split up—and don’t forget to turn over your lanyard before you go in.”

“Here are some business cards,” Octavia said, passing over a handful.

“Let’s do this,” Linda said, looking like a boxer about to enter the ring.

She walked to one elevator bay, so Octavia took the other. Juggling the cardboard box of snacks, she boarded the car and stabbed a floor button with her elbow. A smartly dressed auburn-haired woman with glasses walked on and frowned at the box full of snacks. Octavia gave her a bland smile, but the woman ignored her. Octavia knew that dismissive look because she’d perfected it herself back when she had social power. On this elevator, the woman trumped her. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, she walked off with authority and turned to the right.

Octavia followed her but turned to the left to regroup. She found a space behind a large potted plant to hide the box, then turned her lanyard over and smoothed her clothes before following signs to the Everwild Insurance Agency. When she passed people in the hallway she gave them a nod that said, “I belong here.” At the glass door entrance, she paused to assess the company’s worth. The office space was elegantly understated. Employees moved efficiently among offices and workstations. The receptionist wore a stylish dress that Octavia had in her own closet in a different color from two seasons ago. Everwild would be a nice first addition to their client resume.

She opened the door and offered a smile to the receptionist. “Hello. I’m Octavia Guy and I’d like to speak to the person who handles your investigations.”

The woman offered a small smile. “Are you a current customer?”

“No, I’m an investigator.” She handed the woman a business card.

The woman scanned the card, then gave her a dubious look. “Do you have an appointment, Ms. Guy?”

“No. I was in the building visiting another client and thought I’d stop by to touch base. Just a courtesy call.”

The receptionist gave a curt nod. “One moment, please.” She turned to pick up a phone receiver, then pressed a button. Octavia couldn’t hear the conversation, but she offered a smile when the woman’s eyes flitted back to her. When the receptionist set down the phone, she said, “Ms. Everwild has five minutes.”

“Everwild?” Octavia tamped down her reaction—she hadn’t expected to meet the owner. “Yes… thank you.”

“Right this way,” the woman said.

“What’s her first name?”

“Rogena. You should know the name of the person who owns the business you’re calling on.”

“Duly noted.”

Octavia followed her, mentally practicing her pitch and envisioning Linda’s face when she announced she’d closed a big client. But when she saw the woman sitting behind the expansive desk, her heart sank.

It was the woman from the elevator, and the smirk on her face when she recognized Octavia was prophetic.

“Rogena, this is Octavia Guy,” the receptionist said, handing her the agency’s business card.

Rogena Everwild scanned the card, then set it aside. “Unfortunately, I realize I don’t have time in my schedule after all.”

Octavia stepped forward. “Please, just give me five minutes.”

The woman pursed her mouth, then nodded to the receptionist. Once the other woman had left, she lifted her eyebrows. “You fill vending machines and you’re an investigator?”

“That’s right,” Octavia said, lifting her chin. “Filling vending machines allows me entry to nearly every building in town.”

The woman crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I suspect I don’t look like the investigators you normally use. Let me guess—male and muscle-y?” She accepted the woman’s silence as a yes. “That gives me an edge—people won’t suspect I’m anything other than a well-dressed woman with a haircut that’s too chic for Lexington.”

Rogena’s mouth quirked. “It is a cute cut.”

“Thanks, I’ll share the name of my Louisville stylist if you like.”

“Louisville? You have contacts in Jefferson County?”

“I lived there for the past ten years.”

“Any connections at the courthouse?”

Her only connection was Richard, who was squatting in a Louisville jail. “Of course.”

Rogena’s body language softened. “And how long have you been an investigator?”

Octavia considered lying again but thought better of it. “My sister and I just opened our agency, off New Circle Road.”

“I’m familiar with that part of town,” the woman said in a flat tone, indicating she’d noticed the address on the card.

“Do you need an investigator?”

“We use the Duncan agency.”

“Oh, I know Dunk,” Octavia said. “We attended UK at the same time and we’re still friends.”

“So I can call Dunk as a reference?” Rogena asked.

Octavia gave a little laugh. “I doubt Dunk would be happy about losing business, even to a friend.”

Rogena considered her at length, then her expression closed. “I’ll keep your agency in mind.”

Octavia tamped down her disappointment and rallied with a smile. “Thank you. Please do.” But as she was leaving, she saw the woman toss the business card in her trash can.

She retraced her steps to the reception area and exited, then decided to leave the hidden box of supplies where it was while she made the other cold calls.

Unfortunately, she hit a brick wall both times. In one case she got past the receptionist but was turned down flat by the man who assigned investigators.

“Not interested,” he said, passing back her business card. Then he’d offered her a nauseating smile. “But I’m available for lunch.”

She’d smiled back and gestured to his paunch. “You should skip lunch—and dinner. Goodbye.”

At the third agency, the receptionist said they only worked with the Duncan agency but promised to pass along her business card.

Defeated, Octavia rode the elevator back down and trudged to where she’d left the box of supplies, then gave it a swift kick. The resulting rattle said she’d probably shattered all the potato chips, but she didn’t give a crap. It was clear Dunk had secured most of the insurance business in town with his team of investigators. Maybe she should accept his offer to work for him to build up a resume.

Then she frowned. Fuck that.

With new resolve, she marched back to the lobby of the Everwild Agency and past the receptionist.

“Wait—you can’t…”

She heard the woman trying to catch up with her, but she jogged to Rogena Everwild’s office and walked in.

“I’m sorry, Rogena,” the receptionist said, sliding to a stop.

The woman lifted her hand. “It’s okay, Jenny. I’ll handle this.”

After the receptionist slunk away, Octavia blurted, “Give me your worst case.”

Rogena’s eyes narrowed. “My worst case?”

“The one you’re losing sleep over. Give it to me and if I crack it, no charge. But you have to agree that if I come through, you’ll throw more business our way.”

The woman sat back in her chair and steepled her hands.

“What do you have to lose?” Octavia pressed.

Rogena leaned over and opened a drawer in her desk, then withdrew a thick file. “Grady Pierce, local businessman. His wife filed a death claim six weeks ago, but I think it’s a sham. It’s a big payout and the widow hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.”

“You think he faked his own death?”

“It’s been done for less money. So far, the lead investigator has come up empty. We have fifteen days left to investigate the claim before we have to honor the payment. Do you think you can deliver results in two weeks’ time?”

Octavia’s mind raced. She had no car, no money, and no training. “Absolutely.”

Rogena stood and extended the folder. “Jenny will make a copy of the file.”

“Thank you,” Octavia said, taking the folder with a hand that shook. “You won’t regret this. And just so I know—who’s the investigator currently working the case?”

The woman angled her head. “Dunk Duncan took on this case himself. Good luck, Ms. Guy.”

Octavia managed to maintain her smile. She was going to need it.