Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery Part 3

McMahon looked at me. "You need to accompany her everywhere she goes. And I want you to stay at her place so she's protected there as well."

I nodded. I don't know why that hadn't occurred to me; I guess I'd blame it on being tired, irritated and knocked silly earlier this morning when he'd hired me.

"Stephanie, do you understand?" McMahon stared her down. "He'll follow you home now, and he'll stay with you until I say so."

"Okay," she said, stretching out the word. "But I'm not doing anything different."

McMahon nodded. "Agreed."

I raised a hand. "Excuse me." They both turned to me as if they were surprised that the help was speaking. "I'll need to run by my place and get some clothes and overnight things," I said.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Oh brother."

"Of course," McMahon said. "You can drop Stephanie's car off at her place, and then she can accompany you while you go gather your things."

"Oh joy."

Wow, she made the Kardashians look like nuns.

I looked at her and smiled. "Time to go."

She threw me a disgusted look, then turned and strutted out.

McMahon handed me a card. "That has my private number. I expect daily updates. Call me if you need anything."

I took the card and headed after Stephanie, certain I'd be in touch with him before the day ended. Maybe to tell him I'd strangled his insolent, spoiled daughter.

CHAPTER SIX.

Outside, Stephanie was waiting at her car, a brand new red BMW M6 series sports car.

"You can follow me to my place," she said as she donned her sungla.s.ses. "I live at the Gla.s.s House." She gazed at me askance. "And try to keep up."

I hopped in my 4-Runner and by the time I'd buckled in and started it, she was already turning onto the street, tires squealing. The Beemer barely slowed as it pa.s.sed the gatehouse, and then it was peeling off up University. I was sure she was trying to lose me because she drove like a NASCAR racer on University to I-25, then dodged in and out of traffic until she turned off on Speer Boulevard. She tore down Platte Street and onto 15th, and we ended up on Ba.s.sett.

I'd heard of Gla.s.s House Denver. It was an expensive and exclusive area just west of Union Station, an up-and-coming neighborhood near the Platte River, with the 25-acre Riverfront Park right across the street.

The BMW disappeared into a covered parking garage near a towering gla.s.s-and-steel complex. I parked on the street, walked up to the south tower and waited outside, hoping the little snot wouldn't ditch me here. I was just thinking she'd indeed given me the slip when I spied her sauntering toward me.

She nodded at the 4-Runner, parked a few s.p.a.ces away. "That your car?"

"Yep," I said.

"Gawd, is that all you can afford?"

I counted ten, then went to the pa.s.senger side and opened the door. She drew in a breath, then exhaled dramatically, walked over and got in.

"You think you're like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard?" she asked as I got in. She studied me. "You're not good-looking like he was. Or what people back in your day thought was good-looking. Like Whitney Houston would fall for him. Puleease."

I gritted my teeth as I shoved the key in the ignition. Don't say anything, just ignore her. I thought about my cinematic hero, Humphrey Bogart. He got to work with Lauren Bacall. I got this.

"So, where do you live?" she asked.

"I've got a condo in Uptown."

"Where the want-to-pretend-like-they're-rich live?"

"It suits me fine." I kept my eyes on the road.

We drove in silence through the heart of downtown Denver. After a few minutes, I wondered if a dark sedan was following us. I kept an eye on the rear and side mirrors, but after a minute, I didn't notice it anymore. Must not have been anything, I thought.

"What made you want to be a bodyguard?" she asked, breaking the silence. Too bad.

"I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a private eye."

"Oh, well in that case, you should be investigating my father."

I glanced at her. "Why?"

She shifted in her seat so she was facing me, then crossed her arms. "What'd he tell you? He's got enemies who want to get at his family? Doesn't that sound just a little too pat for you?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," I said, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "But it's more complicated than that."

She thought about that for a moment of serene silence. "What's dear old Dad up to?"

"I wish I knew."

"Gawd, I could tell you stuff."

"I'm all ears."

She put on a pout. "If I did, dear Daddy would take my trust fund away."

"And we don't want that, now do we?" I said.

She cursed at me.

"Charming," I said.

"You think you're so much better than me."

I ignored that as, thankfully, we'd turned onto my street. "My condo's there," I said as I pulled up in front of the building.

"You have to park on the street?" she asked, incredulous.

"There's a garage, but since we'll only be here for a moment..." Really, I had to explain this? What had I gotten into? I shook my head. Now I was talking in italics. "Come on."

She got out and barreled up the sidewalk ahead of me.

"On the porch and around the corner to the left," I called as I hurried after her.

I was almost to the stairs when I heard a soft voice. "Reed."

I turned around to see Willie Rhoden, my neighbor and girlfriend, come around the corner. She was in her khakis and gray CU sweatshirt, but she looked elegant and s.e.xy to me. She held a Starbucks coffee in her hand, and she gazed at me, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.

I smiled at her. "Hey, how are you?"

She glanced over my shoulder. "I thought you had a meeting."

"I did."

Stephanie halted and leaned against the stair railing, her hips out and chest thrust forward. Willie gave Stephanie the onceover. And Stephanie did the same to Willie. I couldn't tell who won.

"Who's she?" Willie asked.

"I was the meeting," Stephanie said as she preened herself seductively.

Willie c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"Yes, I "

"And he was goooood," Stephanie interrupted.

Before I could clarify, Willie said, "Reed, maybe when you get a minute, you can call me and let me know what's going on." With that, she turned and walked away.

I could tell by her tone that I shouldn't put off calling her.

"You." I jammed a finger at Stephanie. "Wait for me upstairs." She frowned, but turned and clomped up the stairs. I ran after Willie, catching her on the Goofball Brothers' porch.

"Hey!"

She turned around. "On to the next thing so soon?"

"Of course not," I said. "She's my new case."

"And you're bringing her to your house? Isn't that a little too much?"

"You don't understand," I said, shaking my head. "I'm her bodyguard."

"What?"

"Her father hired me to be her bodyguard."

Her jaw dropped. "That's a new twist."

"I know. And she's a real pistol so far."

"I can see that." Humor lines crossed her face, then quickly vanished. "Why bring her here?"

"I have to stay with her 24/7, so I'm getting some things to take back to her place."

Willie stared at me. "Excuse me?"

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" I took her hand. "Come on, you know me. I wouldn't mess around on you."

She softened. "You're right. I'm sorry. But look at her. She's dressed to the nines, and she's pretty."

"Trust me, anything in the looks department is lost when she opens her mouth. Besides, she's ten years younger than I am."

"Charlie Chaplin's wife was forty years younger."

"I'll be sleeping on the couch," I a.s.sured her.

She looked away and chewed her lip, and man, it was cute. How could she think I'd want that immature vixen over her?

I jerked my head toward the stairs. "I better get back up there. Princess of the d.a.m.ned has probably broken in and is trashing the place right now." I threw her my most charming smile. "I'll call you later, okay?"

She finally smiled back. "I've got a long weekend. I've got an extra shift at St. Joe's today, and then a double shift at Denver Health tomorrow. And you'll be busy, too, so I'll call you Monday."

"You sure you don't want to talk sooner? Check up on me?"

Now I got her trademark tuck-the-blond-hair-behind-the-ears that was so adorable. "I'll be fine." She gave me a lingering kiss. "Go on."

I watched her walk down the steps and across the street to her condo. She waved and then disappeared inside.

I rushed upstairs, wondering what h.e.l.l awaited me. Luckily, Stephanie had not managed to weasel her way past my door, but was waiting impatiently on the landing.

"Hurry up, it's cold," she ordered.

I unlocked the door and we went inside.

"Wait here while I get a few things," I ordered her back.

"Fine." She plopped down on the couch, took out her phone and began texting.

I hurried into the bedroom, grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and packed enough clothes for a few days. I got some toiletries from the bathroom and was putting them in the duffle bag when a flash of light out the window caught my eye.

I glanced outside. A brand-new black Toyota sedan was parked across the street. I didn't recognize it as one of my neighbors and I didn't think much about it. Then I remembered I had Stephanie with me, and someone might be after her. I stepped into the bathroom, then edged my way back toward the window and peeked out. Whose car was it? Someone was in the driver's seat. I watched for a minute. Were we followed? Was the driver waiting for someone? Was I paranoid? As these thoughts raced around in my brain, a thin guy in dark pants, ski jacket and baseball cap got out of the car and walked up to another building.

Must've been mistaken, I thought. I shrugged and resumed packing. The last thing I did was to go into my office for my Glock. I wasn't one for guns or shooting people, but my cases were becoming increasingly dangerous, so I thought it'd be in my best interests to take it along. I strapped on a new ankle holster I'd recently bought, then holstered the Glock. Then I returned to the living room. Stephanie had her feet up on the coffee table, fiddling with her phone.

"Do you know anyone who drives a brand-new black Toyota sedan?" I asked.