Page 2 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

Chapter One

Margo Angelhart

I love my family. Every single one of them, from my brothers and sisters and parents and grandparents to every aunt, uncle, cousin, and cousin-by-marriage.

I love them when they annoy me, argue, or agree.

The Morales family and everyone who came from them—the Orozcos, Garcias, Angelharts, and more—put the unconditional love of family above all.

You know Zazu from The Lion King ? The brightly colored bird who commented that there was “one” problem in every family—and two in his?

Yep, the Angelhart-Morales clan had more than two, like my cousin Pedro, who fell down every conspiracy theory rabbit hole he tripped over.

If I had a dollar for every time he called wanting me to investigate some wild idea—like the time he put six different news stories together to prove the governor had been replaced by a look-alike—my mortgage would be paid.

I love him, but thankfully he lived out of state and I only saw him once in a blue moon.

But Pedro wasn’t the wackiest character in our family.

Today, it was my older sister, Tess. As I ate one of the breakfast burritos I’d brought in for the office, I considered hopping in my Jeep and heading to my grandparents’ cabin in Pinetop, cell phone off. Just me and the open road.

Tess was driving me up a wall. Yes, she was planning a wedding.

Yes, she had “only” seven months left. Yes, she was nervous because she had two failed engagements before falling for Dr. Gabriel Rubio.

But if she changed her mind about the bridesmaid dresses one more time , I would stand next to her in jeans and a T-shirt.

“You’re my maid of honor,” Tess said as I poured myself a cup of coffee and wished I had some whiskey to dump in. Hell, I’d drink the whiskey straight even though it was eight thirty in the morning and I didn’t even like whiskey.

“Yep,” I said. “I promise, you’ll have the best bachelorette party ever. In March. Six months from now.” Meaning, I didn’t want to talk about it because I hadn’t thought about it. Because— six months away.

I’d looked up all the duties of a maid of honor, and there were a lot, but Mom was taking care of most of them because she wanted to. Thank God. I don’t think I would survive until Tess’s wedding day if I were responsible for everything that the books told me I was responsible for.

“We’re getting married in April!”

“That’s what the invitations say.” Which were at the printer, so she couldn’t change them.

“I can’t go with the burgundy I love. It just won’t work!”

“Why? Is it against the law?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Margo,” Tess said. “It’s spring. Burgundy is a fall or winter color. I want something light, something that says spring and birth.”

“Are you pregnant?”

Tess’s eyes widened and she practically blushed. “Margo!” she snapped.

“What? You’re the one that said birth .”

“Stop.”

“If you want burgundy, then we wear burgundy.”

“No! If you don’t want to help, just say so.”

Tess walked into her office and slammed the door before I could respond.

Where was Jack when I needed him? Did my brother know Tess was going to have a meltdown this morning so he stayed away from the office until the last possible minute? Probably. He avoided confrontations whenever possible.

I didn’t come into the office every day.

My mother would love if I did, but I’d worked solo for eight years.

I didn’t need to be in the office all the time.

Sometimes I missed the autonomy of being completely on my own, so I came in only when necessary—like today when Mom called and said Uncle Rafe was coming by to talk about a possible case.

I’ll admit, I was a bit hurt that Uncle Rafe didn’t call me first. For the last eight years, I’d worked several cases that he’d brought me.

Most didn’t pay, but that never bothered me.

Some people needed help and didn’t have the money for an investigator.

They paid what they could. My big clients covered what I needed, and it all worked out in the end.

Then I join the family firm and Rafe goes right to my mom. Sure, she’s his sister, but still .

One of the agreements Mom and I made when I joined Angelhart Investigations was that I could bring all my regular clients over.

To be honest, I didn’t have many clients on retainer because I mostly worked individual cases, but I had both a law firm and a bounty contract I didn’t want to give up.

Mom didn’t like me taking bounty assignments, but they were fun.

Some people think I have an odd definition of fun, but there’s something wholly satisfying about tracking a fugitive and hauling his ass to court.

Jack worked with me on my last case and I think he had just as much fun as I did, though he’d never admit it.

So far, our family arrangement was working.

Of course, we’d only been in the same office for three months, so there was still time for me to screw everything up.

I glanced at the clock—past nine. Mom said be here at eight thirty.

An early riser by nature, I didn’t mind mornings, but sitting around an office was not my idea of fun or work.

I had background checks to run for Logan Monroe, a new client I’d helped out of a jam back in May.

He’d put Angelhart Investigations on retainer.

It was a win-win for everyone—we all liked the successful entrepreneur, he paid well, and he valued honesty, even when it stung.

He’d also gained a new best friend in Jack, despite them being near polar opposites.

Maybe in part because Jack was dating Logan’s sister.

Jack walked in looking angry, which was very unlike my calm, cool, collected big brother.

“Hey, Jack, I brought you a breakfast burrito from Orozco’s. It’s in the kitchen. Mom’s running late.” I jerked my finger toward her closed office door.

He turned to me, blinked, as if not expecting to see me. “Thanks,” he said, then went into his office and closed the door without getting his food.

Definitely unlike my big brother who never turned down a breakfast burrito from our cousin’s Mexican restaurant. And, in the time I’d been working with my family, not once had I seen him close his door.

First Tess panicking about wedding dresses, now Jack being grumpy. With my even-tempered little sister, Luisa, back at college full-time, I couldn’t even commiserate with anyone.

I turned to my computer—I’ll admit, one of the perks of joining the family business was the new computer.

My old machine worked at the speed of molasses.

I plotted how I wanted to handle the background checks this week.

Tess had already run credit reports, confirmed previous employers and schooling, and my job was to verify references.

You’d be shocked at how many people listed fake jobs and references, thinking employers wouldn’t check.

I went into the break room to pour more iced coffee into my Yeti. Our office manager, Iris Butler, made the best iced coffee around and always had some chilling in the fridge. I sipped. Perfect.

The break room had once been a giant kitchen when the building was an orphanage. It had since been converted into a comfortable space—the adjacent dining area now had a small table, a couple couches, oversized chairs, and television that was rarely turned on. I could easily have lived here.

When I stepped back out, my mom was escorting a fiftysomething man into the conference room. From their body language, they knew each other. Mom saw me, motioned me over.

“Margo, this is Manny Ramos. We served on a charity board together many moons ago.”

I knew the name, but we’d never met. Ramos owned a string of convenience stores in Central Phoenix called the Cactus Stop.

I frequented the one closest to my house, when sometimes convenience trumped cheap.

My first major investigation, more than eight years ago, involved the murder of a clerk at one of the Cactus Stops.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Likewise,” Ramos said. “I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

I glanced at my mom. I wish I knew what the circumstances were.

“We’re just waiting for Raphael and Mrs. Martinez,” my mom said to Ramos. “Coffee? Water?”

“Don’t go to the trouble.”

“No trouble. Margo, can you? I’ll call in Jack and Tess.”

“Sure,” I said and went back into the kitchen to grab some water bottles. Iris took them from me. “Your uncle just drove up. I’ll bring these in, along with a coffee tray.”

“Thanks,” I said and went to greet Uncle Rafe.

He wore his cleric’s uniform—black short-sleeved shirt, black slacks, and white collar. A simple wood crucifix hung on a leather string around his neck. A woman with a tired, drawn face walked in with him.

“Uncle Rafe,” I said. “I heard you were coming in.” I extended my hand to the woman. “I’m Margo Angelhart.”

She took it, her hand small and shaky. “Alina Martinez. Thank you.”

I didn’t know what she was thanking me for. I said, “I assume Manny Ramos is here for you?”

Alina gave me a sad smile. “I’m late. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re not late,” Uncle Rafe said, taking her elbow and escorting her into the conference room.

My phone beeped. My cousin Josie had sent a text message.

Hey, do you have time to meet?

I responded immediately

Always for you, Pussycat.

I smiled. Ever since we watched Josie and the Pussycats one summer when we were eight, I’d adopted that nickname for her, which she used to hate. Okay, she still hated it, but that didn’t stop me. She’d called me worse, trust me. Josie was not only my cousin, but my best friend.

I’m off today, I’ll meet you wherever.

I considered, then texted back: I’m going into a client meeting. I’ll text you when I’m done, good?

Josie responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

I pocketed my phone and followed Rafe and Alina into the conference room.