Page 8 of Simon Says… Fight (Kate Morgan Thrillers #11)

It didn’t take long for her to set up all three victims on the board from the data found in each file. When she turned around, Rodney stood there, his arms crossed, glaring at her.

Her eyebrows shot up. “What is that look for?”

“All three were businessmen. All three were a little on the pudgy side, and all three had zero fighting experience.”

“Okay,” she replied, “and that look on your face means what?”

“They’re all connected, all three to each other,” he declared, frustration in his tone. “Damn it to hell, I think they’re all connected to our victim too.”

*

When Simon got home, he’d walked in literally right behind Kate. He called out to her, and she turned, just as she went to enter the elevator, then held it for him so he could join her. “How are you doing?” he asked, studying her intently.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I dealt with my insurance company on a few things today, but I’m hoping the worst of it will be over now.”

“That’ll be nice,” he noted, with a smile. “It’s not your fault some asshole shot up your place.”

“According to them it is my fault, and it’s completely related to my job.”

“Of course it is, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t pay.”

“They’re thinking about it,” she noted, with a frown. “I didn’t know they could actually consider that.”

“Oh, they’ll take their time regardless. Even if you are denied,” he suggested, with a headshake, “appeal immediately. Once they realize you won’t go away, they’ll come up with an answer that will make you a lot happier.”

“That’s a stupid way to do business.”

“I understand,” he replied, “but, if they can get away with not paying you, trust me that they will. You just always have to be ready to appeal these things. That’s what I do.”

“Let’s hope they don’t have any issues with it in the first place,” she muttered, “because I’m not the one who’s responsible.”

He chuckled. “You might not think you’re responsible, but, in their eyes, you’re a bad risk.

Which means they could choose to not insure you afterward.

The damage isn’t all that bad, considering what it could have been,” he pointed out.

“A new door and some dry wall repair in the hallway where the bullets entered, some more inside where the bullets landed, but, other than that, it’s really pretty minor. ”

“That’s true too,” she agreed, “so you would think they would be okay with it.”

He smiled at her. “Nope, it’s an insurance company that sells policies, telling people how quick they are to hand out money whenever someone hits a bump in the road, then does the opposite when a claim is filed.”

She groaned. “Why is everybody so concerned about money?”

He laughed. “Because those who don’t have it, want it, and those who do, want to keep it.”

“And yet”—she frowned at him—“I don’t sense those same issues with you.”

“Oh, I have the same issues,” he declared, “but I’ve learned to deal with them. I find that, if I give away money and help others, it helps me to feel a little more secure with the money I have.”

“You do know that makes no sense, right?”

He chuckled. “No, to you, it probably makes no sense,” he corrected, “but, to me, it works perfectly, and that’s what matters. You have to find out what works for you.”

She smiled. “I agree with that part for sure,” she confirmed, followed by a chuckle. “But how giving away money is supposed to make you feel better about what you have, I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, as he walked to the hall closet, took off his jacket, and turned to look at her. “I am absolutely starving. What about you?”

“Me too,” she agreed. “It’s also freezing cold out there, so I don’t want to go back outside.” She blew on her hands as she took off her coat, hung it up, and looked around. “I don’t suppose we have any food here though, do we?”

He laughed. “Half the time we order in anyway.”

“I know, but that means waiting,” she muttered, with a groan.

“Are you that hungry?”

She thought about it and then nodded. “In a way, yeah. I’ve been fighting that whole I should try to contact my mother thing all day.”

“Oh God, no,” he said, shaking his head vehemently.

“I know that it’s a bad idea, I just—”

“You don’t need to open that can of worms again. And she disappeared for a reason,” he pointed out.

“I know, and Rodney told me the same thing.”

He smiled. “I’m happy to know that Rodney and I are on the same page here.”

She glared at him. “You guys are on the same page all too often, and it feels as if I’m the one living in a completely different world.”

“No, not at all,” he replied, giving her a gentle hug. “It’s just a matter of coming to terms with the new reality.”

“It sucks.”

“You mean, the fact that you don’t have any contact with your mother?” he asked.

She frowned, shook her head, and explained, “No, not that. I really don’t want anything to do with her at all, but… I guess I don’t even know what the but is.”

“But you don’t want her to go kill herself or to do anything stupid like that.”

“No, of course I don’t. Whether I have anything to do with her or not, it doesn’t mean that I want to see her so despondent and trying to get rid of whatever is going on in her world that she takes her life.

We’ve seen enough suicides to last me a lifetime, and every single day there’s another one. ”

“I hear you,” he said, “and the job you’re in really doesn’t help, does it?”

“No, or, hell, maybe it does in a way,” she admitted, with a groan. “I don’t want to think that I’m becoming complacent, but…”

“But you’re becoming complacent,” he noted, with a nod. “And, as much as that might be difficult to acknowledge, it’s also understandable. You are turning off your emotions to deal with it, to protect your own mental health.”

She laughed. “You’re always so accepting.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, with a wry smile, “but we still really do need to get food.”

“I agree.” She nodded, as she stared at him.

“Suggestions?” He grinned.

And she groaned. “You just want pasta again.”

“We could order something different for a change,” he suggested. “We have a lot of other options.”

“Maybe, but I’m really too tired to care. You order whatever you want,” she stated, “just get lots of it. I’ll go get a hot shower.” And, with that, she quickly disappeared.

That was the one thing that Simon found very unique about her.

If it was food, and it was sustenance, that was good enough for her.

She didn’t want the fancy restaurants, the five-star service, or the whole nine yards that went along with it.

She wasn’t interested in any of that. What she really wanted was enough to confirm she wouldn’t be hungry and wouldn’t have her appetite disrupt her later.

With a smile, he quickly placed an order, but completely switched it up and ordered several big platters of ribs. He left the rest of it to Mama to sort out, mentioning how Kate was really hungry, so he had her orders to get them in some food.

Mama was already clucking in the background, like the mother hen she was, promising to send something over within twenty minutes.

And he believed her. He quickly sent a message down to Harry, the doorman at the post now, letting him know.

Yet Simon already knew the notification wasn’t even needed.

Harry knew the drill and was very good at his job, and Simon appreciated that.

When Kate came back out in something warm and cuddly, he grinned in appreciation. She frowned and pointed. “I don’t even remember seeing this before,” she admitted, “but it seemed about right for my mood.” He didn’t say anything, making her eye him suspiciously. “Did you get it for me?”

“I might have,” he noted carelessly. “If I did, I don’t remember.”

She looked at him intently and then shrugged. “That’s the way our world works, isn’t it?”

“It absolutely is,” he stated, with half a smile in her direction. “Anyway, food is coming.”

“Good,” she muttered. “I’m literally starving.”

He shook his head and sighed, not understanding how she could forget to eat, no matter how busy she was. “So, tell me about your day.”

“I’m not even sure what I can tell you,” she muttered. “We’ve got this case, which you already know about, since you’re the one who brought it up.”

“About the fighting?” he asked, studying her intently.

She nodded. “Yes, so I have a body in the morgue that doesn’t fit the fighting scene, and phone calls in to three other precincts, coroners, and families basically because we have the possibility of another three—”

“Three what?” he asked, startled.

“Three other men who seemingly died in fights.”

“Sure, but…”

She smiled at him and nodded. “Exactly. Sure, but . These cases were classified as muggings, murder in the obvious sense. In all three cases, nobody was caught.”

“That seems to be the biggest issue all around, all the time.”

“Yeah, and now you have a much better idea why we have so many challenges in that area.”

“Yeah, sure I do,” he confirmed. “This stuff just never quits, does it?”

“No, it sure doesn’t,” she muttered. “On top of that, the victims all appear to be a similar type of person.”

“Meaning?”

“They were all businessmen, all not in the best physical shape, and all considered to be more workaholics than family men. Not that they had anything against family. It’s just that they were always working late.

From what we can tell, they were actually working late, not just hooking up with their secretaries—at least so far, in these cases that we’ve seen.

There have been no known suspects, no recordings of the incidents, and, in each case,” she added, “and this is really the clincher.… Their bodies were found three days later.”

“And that’s when you found your current one as well?”

“That’s exactly when we found this one of ours,” she stated, with a nod. “So, that brings us three extra and very similar cases. So, I started a board today, and, of course, Colby came in and just about blew a gasket when he realized what we were looking at… again.”