Page 348 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

Logan begins chortling. “I wasn’t even sure that was you.”

“Of course, it was me. You got a better idea?”

“While we were waiting outside for you the other day, Manny and I were discussing concreting Shameless Studios’ front and back steps. Manny’s wife’s uncle’s a contractor. Real easy for a load of concrete to get poured in the wrong place.”

Mac’s grin turns even more wicked if that’s possible. “I like that idea better. Anyone Manny’s wife isn’t related to?”

Logan grins and shakes his head.

twenty

MAC

As much asLogan and I amuse ourselves with ways to close up Mad Bob’s shop through the end of lunch, there’s an underlying note of seriousness to our discussion. Brenna wasn’t injured today but she could have been. When Max calls back with the news that he’s found a signal coming out of the shop that doesn’t match any of Logan’s cameras or the employees’ phones, the knowledge the skinheads have been spying on Bren burns.

After we finish lunch, she calls her friend Nicky and fills him in. They decide to close the shop for a few days, since they can’t guarantee their clients’ privacy or the employees’ safety. I can see the decision wounds Bren on a level that snuggles won’t immediately fix. I give them to her anyway, until she falls asleep in my arms while we’re cuddled on the couch. I tuck her under one of Emily’s fuzzy, blue blankets and join Logan in his office.

He’s watching the CCTV footage again but shuts it off as soon as I enter.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I tell him. “I have a couple of phone calls to make.”

“Okay.” Logan taps the footage back on.

“Have you seen anything yet?” I ask as I take out my phone.

“Someone’s definitely coming and going. They’ve figured out where the cameras are, though.” He points at one of the screens. “There’s a window here that’s in the shadow of a couple of trees. I think that’s how they’re getting in. There’s movement in the trees late every night and early every morning but I can’t get a clear view of what it is. Hell, it could just be a big dog.”

“Coming and going through a window? Is the window open? And why would a dog do that?”

“Dunnow. As far as I know there’s no food missing, although there is a kitchen at the club. It might be raiding the pantry.” He shrugs. “Club’s warm and dry.”

“Huh.” I don’t have anything else to offer, so I dial my daughter. I’m a little early, but I know she’ll want to hear about Brenna sooner rather than later. Naomi sounds brighter than she did yesterday. I focus on Brenna’s impressive self-defense skills when I tell Naomi about the attack rather than the potential horror of her being beaten by three men. But it’s still very much on my mind. After listening to Naomi rave about her new math tutor, I promise I’ll call her tomorrow and let her get back to studying.

Then I call Taco, expecting to be able to vent some of my anger on him for disappearing all day to fill the Grand fucking Canyon of his stomach.

I’m more than a little surprised when Napa answers his phone. “Where are you, Mac?” he asks.

“Logan’s house, a few blocks away from Brenna’s shop. Where are you?”

“Mount Sinai. I just got here. Taco was jumped by three guys this morning.”

Three guys? Could that be a coincidence? It’s a big city and, as with all big cities, there’s violence, but that seems too coincidental.

“Fuck. Is he okay?”

“Broken arm and a concussion.”

“Did he see them?”

“Ski masks.”

“Ask him if one of them had ‘move on’ tattooed on his knuckles. If so, I think he was jumped by the same three guys who attacked Brenna.”

“Hold on.” I hear muffled talking and then Napa swearing. “He says he thinks so. One of them had tattoos on his knuckles that were hard to read. Is Brenna okay?”

“Yeah. She kicked their asses.”

“Good for her. Your subbie’s tougher than she looks. So, this wasn’t random. I was afraid someone jumped Taco because he’s Oidhri. That’s why I didn’t call you immediately. I wanted to put out feelers and see if Taco’d somehow tripped over some Hell’s Angels or something. They supposedly cleared out of Manhattan, but you never know. This sounds tied-in to your girl’s problem with the skinheads, though.”