Page 2 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love (The Buck Baxter Detective Agency #3)

CHAPTER 2

I pushed open the door to my office and tilted my head to one side, gazing in confusion at a sight I wasn’t exactly expecting to see.

“What the fuck are you doing up there?”

Like a cat that had tried clawing its way up the wall, my self-appointed assistant, Stella Darling, was hanging from the thick black curtains covering the windows. Only then did I realize—“And where the fuck did those curtains come from?”

Stella responded by waggling her little legs and screaming at me. “Don’t just stand there, you big stupid lug! Get me down from here before I plunge to my death, would ya?”

I shut the door behind me, kicked aside the two chairs lying on the floor—obviously Stella had stacked one on top of the other to climb as high as she did—then casually reached up to rescue her.

“Jeepers, that was a close call,” she said as I sat her on the edge of my desk. “At one stage I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I tell ya, it’s like a maze of muttonheads inside my skull. This gal’s had the displeasure of meeting way too many yellow-bellied alligators in her time. Speaking of unreliable men, where’ve you been, anyway? I was expecting you back here an hour ago.”

“Is that how long you’ve been hanging there? And what the heck is with the curtains anyway?”

“It’s a security measure, you dummy. Ever since you told me that Bugsy Brown was your daddy dearest, I’ve been expecting one of Mamma Marlow’s boys to stake out the abandoned apartment building across the street, pull out his pistol and pop one right between the eyes… first you, then me.”

Ah yes. Despite the fact that I didn’t want to mention my parental predicament to Harry, I had inadvertently blurted the news to Stella in a state of shock, minutes after Bugsy confronted me in the dark alley that night. It was a moment of weakness, and one I was expecting to regret for some time.

“Stella, why would anyone wanna kill you ?”

“Because clearly I’m the brains of this operation. Did you ever think to put curtains up? No, because you’re too stupid.”

“I ain’t too stupid not to put curtains up, I’m too broke . Stella, you know all too well we ain’t had a client knock on that door in weeks. We ain’t got the money for curtains. How the hell did you pay for them, anyway?”

“I sold your pot to some dirt-bucket on the boulevard.”

“You what? Jesus, that was my last stash. Where am I gonna find the money for another visit to Madame Chang’s?”

“What’s your problem? Ain’t you got yourself a fancy rich boyfriend now?”

“Just because he’s fancy and rich, doesn’t mean I wanna stoop to being needy and desperate. I’ve always made my own way in life, and that ain’t about to change. I have no intention of becoming a burden for Harry to carry. Trust me, when the money comes rolling in, it won’t be because of my rich boyfriend. It’ll be because opportunity came a-knocking.”

At that moment, there came a knock at the door.

Stella and I looked at each other in wide-eyed surprise .

“It’s opportunity!” Stella whispered.

“Better still, it’s a new client! Hopefully.” Quickly I lifted her off the desk. “Remember what I told you. Always act like a pro in front of our customers.”

“Sure thing, toots. If you think it’ll help.” Stella promptly began pushing her tits up.

“Not like a prostitute! Like a professional. Act like a professional.”

“Okay, okay. Take it easy, I knew what you meant.” She grabbed a notepad and pencil, then righted one of the chairs by the window and hoisted herself up onto it. There she sat, cross-legged, licking the tip of the pencil and ready to take notes.

I picked up the other chair, sat behind my desk, and as a second knock rapped on the door I called out, “Come in. It’s open.”

The handle turned.

The door squeaked open.

Suddenly my brow creased in confusion… and if I’m honest, disappointment. “Harry? What are you doing here? I thought you were a client. And I thought you had work to do.”

“I… I did. Or at least, I tried.” He stepped inside the door. He seemed anxious. “I went to the club, and I sat in my office and realized you were right. You were more than right. Not only are you the one person who can keep my secret safe, you’re also the one person who can help me solve what’s going on.”

I shook my head, as though some of my baffled questions might fall out. “What? Me? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to hire you, Buck. I need to hire you.”

I stood from my chair and crossed the room to him, watching his anxiety turn quickly to distress. I took him by the hand and led him back to my chair, sitting him down to try and calm his nerves. “Stella, would you get Harry a water please.” Stella jumped off her chair as I asked, “Harry? Is everything alright?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think anything’ s alright.”

Stella returned with a glass and gave it to Harry, who poured the entire drink down his throat before spitting it back up with a cough and a gasp. “That’s not water,” he wheezed.

“Of course it’s not. It’s gin,” Stella said. “Have you seen the color of the water that comes out of the pipes in this building?”

I took the glass off Harry and set it on the desk. “Harry, start from the beginning. What is it that’s troubling you? Whatever the problem is, we’ll solve it together. You and me.”

Stella nodded in agreement. “That’s right. We’ll solve it together. You, him, and me.”

I saw Harry glance between me and Stella and I sensed his reluctance to discuss his troubles in front of her. “Stella, perhaps Harry would be more comfortable if you stepped out of the room for a moment.”

Stella looked at me indignantly. “He said he wants to hire you for a case, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but…”

“And ain’t I your assistant?”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts. I should be here to take notes, that’s my job.”

“Yes, but there may be something of a somewhat sensitive nature he’d like to discuss.”

“Are you saying I ain’t sensitive? If you cut me, do I not bleed? If you tweak my nipples, do I not flinch? If you take a feather duster and—”

“Just step outside the room… please. In fact, step outside the building. Go buy yourself a drink, find yourself a good time, do whatever you like. Just please, give us a few minutes, would ya?”

“Fine,” she hmphed. “Maybe I can bum a smoke off that dirt-bucket I sold your pot to, if he ain’t chugged his way to Chattanooga by now.” With a clippety-clop of her heels she strutted out of the office, slamming the door on her way out.

“Will she be okay?” Harry asked .

“Stella? Stella will always be okay. But clearly you’re not, so talk to me. What’s going on, Harry?”

He wriggled restlessly in the chair. “It’s my mother. She’s been acting strangely lately. Nothing too obvious, but enough for me to notice that she’s not herself. I started paying attention to the moments she’d sneak away to be alone. I overheard a telephone call she made, planning to meet up with someone. Then, a few nights ago, I saw her climb out of a window and meet up with my father’s chauffeur.”

“You think she’s…”

“Having an affair? Without a doubt. She drove off into the night with him and didn’t return until it was almost dawn.”

“Does your father know?”

“God, no. He doesn’t even seem to suspect anything’s going on. But that’s what worries me. If—or rather when—he does find out, I don’t know what he’ll do. My father is a powerful man. Powerful and proud. If he discovers my mother is having an affair, it will crush him… and he will in turn crush her.”

His feet tapped the floor, his breathing became short, and his fingers bunched into fists on his thighs. I had never seen him so agitated, scared even. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to find out who this chauffeur is, where he lives, why he feels such a burning desire to put my mother’s marriage—her safety—at risk like this. I need you to convince him to call it off. I need you to do what it takes to remove him from my mother’s life before someone gets hurt.”

His request sounded more like something you’d hire Bugsy Brown or Mamma Marlow to take care of. “Harry, I’m a detective, not a knee-breaker. I can find this guy, but it ain’t my business to ‘remove’ someone who’s having a fling with your mother.”

“Buck, I need you to do this. Or find someone else who will.” He stood, and gripping my forearms he kissed me forcefully then said, “Trust me, Buck. No good can come of this. I need this affair to end before any real trouble begins. Will you do this for me?”

What could I say? The man I loved was rattled.

He was begging for my help.

He was fearful his mother’s wayward actions might trigger something terrible and tyrannical in his father.

Having grown up without parents to care and worry for, what he was going through was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. Perhaps one day, I would.

I kissed him back. “If you need my help, you got it, babe. No matter what I gotta do, I’ll take care of it for you.”