Tangled Souls by Jana Oliver Page B

was the answer.
    He flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the seat, reviewing the notes he’d made. Gregory Alliford’s rap sheet was clean. His wife was another matter. Janet Pearce Alliford had a string of petty offenses: shoplifting along Rodeo Drive, speeding, tangles with authority figures ranging from tollbooth operators and cops to bouncers in upscale bars. Lots of citations, no convictions. The road map of a life off the rails, all smoothed over by Mommy’s money and influence.
    O’Fallon knew the pattern from his years on the force. When someone couldn’t stand up to a bully, they found other ways to displace that aggression. Boxing the man , he called it. It was a no-win scenario. The man always won.
    He cranked his attention back to the shop. By his watch, Ms. Kingsgrave had been in Crystal Horizons for over thirty minutes. It appeared that selecting the proper witchy supplies wasn’t a slam dunk.
    He tapped his foot in time to the radio as he balanced his checkbook, his gaze periodically bouncing from the numbers to the shop like a jack-in-the-box. Pleased with the balance he’d calculated, he tucked his checkbook away and started fiddling with the radio.
    His cell phone rang and he snagged it off the seat, eager for the distraction. The caller ID gave him hope.
    “O’Fallon.”
    “Doug, it’s Kathryn.”
    A lusty smile crossed his face. “Changed your mind about tonight?” he asked. He crossed the fingers on his free hand.
    “No.”
    Disappointment arced through him as the fingers snapped apart. “You sure you can’t drop by for a little while? That way you’ll be nice and relaxed for your meeting.”
    A low chuckle, a moment’s hesitation, and then, “No, I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
    “Is he cute?” he asked perversely. Kathryn was too pretty not to attract other suitors, despite the fact she spent the majority of her time elbow deep in corpses.
    “Sort of, but . . .” She sighed as if realizing she’d been mouse-trapped. “That’s not the situation, Doug. It’s just business.”
    He struggled to keep his voice mellow. “I understand. Just don’t forget me, okay? Seamus misses you.”
    “Oh, right,” she chuckled. “I’m headed out of town later this week, so it’ll be some time before I can call again.”
    Now she’s going out of town. Was it with the guy she was meeting tonight?
    “Have a safe trip.” He flipped the phone shut and shook his head. His lovers always came on strong and then faded long before the finish line. Only Seamus would be pleased when it ended. He wasn’t fond of O’Fallon’s paramours, Dr. Kathryn Bergstrom included. At least he hadn’t bitten her.
    A sharp rap on the window startled him, and he nearly dropped the phone. As he reached for another dollar in his front pocket, he hesitated. This wasn’t a bum, not with that hair. His inattention had cost him the stakeout.
    “Dammit,” he muttered. He hauled himself out of the car and leaned on the open door. He noted she remained on the other side, using it as a shield. In the distance, a woman stood outside the New Age shop, phone in hand, watching the scene intently. Ms. Kingsgrave had come with backup.
    Street savvy. Point for the witch.
    The frown on his quarry’s face appeared genuine, and she gripped the cane between her two hands like a weapon, her right hand exhibiting a coarse tremor. Her eyes were more vivid in person, with a depth he’d not anticipated. High cheeks—natural, not cosmetic—full lips, and honey-wheat hair. A striking young woman.
    “Why are you following me?” she demanded.
    He refocused on the question, away from those eyes.
    “That’s what I was hired to do. I’m a private detective.”
    “You have proof of that?” He politely handed over a business card. She took it in an unsteady hand and gave it a cursory glance. “Anyone can print a business card. I want to see your license.” This one was cautious. He pulled out his wallet and displayed the