River Road(6)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t realize what she intended to do until it was all over.”

“Not your fault,” Lucy assured him.

“Disgruntled client?” he asked. “By the way, my name is Carl.”

“She wasn’t the client,” Ella said.

“Just a sore loser,” Hannah explained.

“Mind if I ask what it is exactly that you three do for a living?” Carl said.

“We work for a private investigation firm,” Lucy explained. “Brookhouse Research.”

“Cool. Lady private eyes?” Carl was definitely interested now. “Do you carry guns?”

“No,” Lucy said firmly. “Mr. and Mrs. Brookhouse are the licensed investigators in the firm. The three of us work in the forensic genealogy department.”

Carl was clearly disappointed, but he made an effort not to let it show. “So what kind of research involves forensic genealogy?”

“Generally speaking, we get most of our work from attorneys representing estates,” Hannah said. “We locate missing or unknown heirs and inform them of their inheritances.”

“And sometimes vice versa,” Ella added. “People who believe themselves to be heirs to an estate come to us to ask us to find proof.”

“Got it.” The man snapped his fingers. “You’re heir hunters.”

“The job description covers a lot of territory,” Lucy said.

She kept her tone cool and professional, wary of Carl’s reaction. Many people were not even aware that searching for lost heirs was a business. Those who did know about it often considered the work to be a rather unsavory side of the private investigation business.

There was no denying that there were some shady operators in the field. They worked the margins of the trade, hoping to score big by tracking down the rare heir to a multimillion-dollar estate who was unaware of his or her good fortune. The heir hunter’s goal was to convince the heir to sign a contract granting the investigator a percentage of the inheritance in exchange for revealing the source of the fortune. But Brookhouse Research prided itself on sticking to the respectable side of the business.

“Looks like I win the bet,” Hannah said.

“How do you figure that?” Ella asked. “The GW assaulted Lucy, just as I predicted.”

“Yes, but she didn’t slap her,” Hannah said.

“Didn’t toss wine in her face, either,” Ella said. “She used beer from a neighboring table.”

“That’s a mere technicality,” Hannah declared.

Ella smiled, triumphant. “As those of us in the forensic genealogy trade are aware, mere technicalities often make all the difference.” She held out her hand, palm up. “I believe you owe me five bucks.”

“Excuse me,” Lucy said. “While you two argue about the bet, I am going to go home and finish packing.”

The waiter bustled over with a clean bar towel.

“The manager says that there won’t be any charge for the three wines,” he said.

“Thanks.” Lucy took the towel and blotted beer from the jacket of her business suit. “I think I’ll put the dry-cleaning bill down on my expense sheet.”

“You should definitely do that,” Ella said.

Hannah nodded. “Absolutely.”

The waiter hovered closer and lowered his voice. “Mind if I ask what you did to make that woman so mad?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Lucy said.

The waiter nodded knowingly. “She thinks you’re seeing her guy, huh?”

Shocked, Lucy paused in the act of dabbing at the sleeve of her jacket. “That’s ridiculous. Why would two intelligent women get into a fight over a man?”

“That’s so last century,” Hannah said.

“What happened a few minutes ago was a much more serious matter,” Ella explained.

“Right.” The waiter brightened. “It was all about money.”

“A lot of money,” Lucy said.

Carl laughed. “Let me take a wild guess here. You three aren’t exactly the romantic types, are you?”

“Our profession tends to make a person somewhat jaded,” Lucy said. “After a while you realize that everyone has an agenda. At the top of most people’s lists there is, however, usually one of two possible priorities.”

“Yeah?” Carl looked expectant. “What are they?”

“Money or revenge,” Lucy said. “It’s amazing how often the two tend to go together.”

“Wow.” Carl was awed by the insight. “That’s heavy, real heavy.”

“No,” Lucy said. “It’s human nature.” She slipped out from behind the table. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Found any other lost heirs lately?” Carl called after her.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Lucy said. She hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and started toward the door. “Me.”

4

Mason Fletcher lounged against the sales counter, a gleaming wrench gripped loosely in one hand. He regarded Lucy with a lot of interest infused with a dash of cool disapproval. She found the combination both annoying and unnerving.

But the real problem was that Mason looked even better now than he had thirteen years ago when he had figured so powerfully in her fevered teenage imagination. Her first reaction upon walking through the door of Fletcher Hardware had been primal and flat-out breathtaking. I’ve been looking for you.

The wolf-sized dog that padded out from behind the counter to inspect her regarded her with an expression remarkably similar to Mason’s. The animal wasn’t just the size of a wolf—it looked like one as well. An aging wolf, she concluded. There was some gray around the muzzle. The beast’s eyes were not the standard dark brown associated with most breeds. Instead, they were a disconcerting shade of hazel gold that was a little too close to the color of Mason’s eyes.

“That’s Joe,” Mason said, nodding toward the dog.

She looked down at Joe and held out her hand. “Hello, Joe.”

Joe stared at her for a moment longer, his gaze unflinching. Evidently concluding that she was neither a threat nor prey, he sniffed her fingers. Satisfied, he sat back. Gingerly, she scratched him behind his ears. Joe chuffed a bit and licked her hand.

“He likes you,” Mason said. “Mostly he ignores people.”