Page 12 of Will (The Cowboys of Calamity, Texas #3)
Soon they’d confront the mysterious Cyrus Kendall, PI, and Will wasn’t planning to leave until his questions were answered. He just hoped they survived the meeting.
* * *
“Are you ready?” Will looked at Honey, who was tapping on her cell phone.
“Almost.”
They stood in an empty hallway of a three-story office building that had seen better days. The beige vinyl floor was marred with ugly scratches and scuff marks. But Will didn’t care about the condition of the building; he was just itching to get to their destination.
“Now I’m ready.” Honey slipped her phone back in her black purse, then slung the narrow leather strap over one shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay out here? It could get dangerous in that office, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Then it sounds like you’re going to need me, or maybe I should be the one to go in alone, since I’m a woman and he won’t see me as a threat.” She leveled a steady gaze at him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve interviewed a shady character.”
She was as capable as they came, maybe more than most, and she’d most likely hunted down questionable sources for her articles, but that was before he’d known her, before he worried about her.
“Absolutely not,” he said, despite the dogged insistence in her eyes.
The same steely determination that he’d seen in only a handful of his boxing opponents.
The ones who refused to back down. The ones who lived and breathed the sport of boxing.
At that moment, he knew she would attain all her dreams.
“Okay,” he agreed, “we go in together.”
She smiled. “You won’t regret it.”
Will wasn’t certain about that, but he didn’t want to delay any longer. The address was printed on the door in front them, so they had the right office. Now he just hoped they had the right man.
He opened the door and walked inside with Honey right on his heels. The office was messy and smelled of fish. Crumpled wads of paper covered an old wooden desk that looked like it had been abandoned months ago.
They exchanged nervous glances, then walked in tandem to the inner office door. Will reached up and knocked twice.
“It’s open,” called a man’s voice from inside.
Honey reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’ve got your back.”
He smiled to himself as they walked in together.
Cyrus—Mr. Whiskey Sour himself—sat behind a glass-topped desk, leaning back in his tattered gray office chair.
“Well, if it isn’t the Crossroads Bar’s finest.” Cyrus stood and motioned them to the two metal folding chairs opposite his desk. “Please have a seat and let me know what I can do for you.”
He pointed to a menu of services, framed and mounted on the wall.
“As you can see, I offer of a variety of services on a sliding scale. And I’m willing to negotiate.” Then he sat back down and folded his hands over his belly. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Will glanced at Honey who had her gaze fixed on Cyrus. His instincts told him this man wasn’t The Destroyer, much to his disappointment. Judging by the amount of crumpled paper covering the desks in both the inner and outer offices, Cyrus was too chaotic to compose a simple one-sentence message.
“We only want one thing,” Will began. “Tell us why you were at the Crossroads Bar last Thursday evening. And don’t pretend it was just to have a drink.”
Cyrus shook his head. “Look, folks, I don’t have the time or the energy to play games with you. If you’re here to ask me about any of my cases or clients, then you should get up and walk back out that door.”
“So, you were on a case?” Honey asked him.
“Maybe yes, maybe no.” Cyrus yawned. “Sorry about that. I got caught up in an old movie last night called Casino . Ever see it?”
Will nodded, instantly getting the message. If they wanted information from Cyrus, they were going to have to pay for it.
Honey leaned forward. “I haven’t seen it, but I assume we’re going to play a little game. What’s needed for us to hit an information jackpot?”
Cyrus smiled, then glanced at his watch. “Well, I have plenty of time, but you’ve got to put five hundred chips on the table if you want me to spin the wheel.”
“I get your drift.” Honey unzipped her purse and reached inside.
“Honey,” Will warned her under his breath. “I wouldn’t do that.”
He watched while she pulled out her cell phone and turned the screen toward Cyrus.
“Oh, I will not pay him. I’m showing Cyrus that I’ve been recording our conversation, so he might want to change his mind about helping us out. Otherwise, word could spread quickly around Bodine that Cyrus Kendall, PI, will sell out his clients for a measly five hundred dollars.”
Cyrus half rose out of his chair. “You can’t do that to me!”
Will laughed, partly at the investigator’s reaction, but mostly at Honey’s cleverness in taking control of the situation. “Since you’re a PI, I think you know she can. Texas is a one-party consent state for recorded conversations.”
Honey held up one hand. “And just so it’s clear, I consented to being recorded. Now, if you’d like me to turn this off, we can keep talking.”
“Turn it off,” he said. Then he pulled his chair closer to the desk, looking all business now. “Believe it or not, I do have some ethics. I will not give you personal information for any of my clients. All I will tell you is…”
He took a deep breath.
“Someone hired me to find Will Pierce, which I did, until you drove off with him, lady. I know from your license plate that you live in Calamity.”
The man paused for another long moment, and Will considered what seemed to be the deeper meaning behind what he was saying. He knew where Honey lived. Was his comment a veiled threat?
A glance over at Honey showed that she, too, understood the potential danger.
Will waited another beat or two before prodding the guy to lay it all out there.
“And…?”
Cyrus rubbed the faint five o’clock shadow that covered his chin. “So, you might be interested to know that the client who hired me lives in Calamity, too.”