Day 13 – Detective
The moment she walked through the door, Nate knew this was going to be trouble. He also knew he wasn't going to say no, no matter what she asked him to do. He had never been able to deny her anything.
Margo was just as beautiful as he remembered her. And probably just as ruthless. He had few illusions about her, and fewer still about his feelings for her. No matter how many times she'd set out to ruin his life, he would always fall for it because there was no way he could resist her charm.
Carver seemed to be doing well for himself, judging from the expensive suit she wore; she had a fur collar too, and a pretty little hat. Her face was immaculately made up, long lashes emphasizing her large green eyes. She sat down in his visitor's chair, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarette. Her hands weren't shaking, but he noticed the way she quickly bit her lower lip. Anyone else would have missed it, but he knew her. She was nervous all right.
"Nate. I need your help." She didn't bother with preliminaries, and he was glad. Why else would she have turned up here? She'd made her choice, three years ago, and she'd never looked back.
He nodded, gesturing for her to talk with his right hand while he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey with his left. She eyed the bottle and his crinkled old suit with obvious disapproval, but refrained from commenting.
"I've been getting letters. The nasty kind. About that business in Chicago, five years ago." She did her best to sound bored and indifferent, but he could hear the fear in her voice as she tossed a bundle of envelopes on his desk. "It must be one of Spade's men. No one else knows."
He leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his glass, flinching at the taste. It had been some time since he'd been able to afford the good stuff. "Why don't you ask your husband for help?"
"Don't be stupid, Nate." Her tone was unexpectedly sharp. "You know very well Carver can't get involved in stuff like this. I wouldn't ask you either if you were still on the force."
"And we all know why I left." He drained his glass, placing it on the desk with an abruptness that made her start.
She regained her composure quickly though and shot him a dark look. "You could have stayed. Carver keeps saying he misses having you around."
Carver. His old partner, his most trusted friend. They had been the best team on the force, closer than brothers. And then she had come along and he'd fallen for her like a ton of bricks. His gaze dropped to her high-heeled shoes and he remembered…
Margo, walking into his shabby hotel room, kicking off her shoes and sighing with relief when they came off. The way the red dress hugged her curves, stretched tight over her hips; the hint of a garter visible through the shiny fabric. Her scent as he buried his face in her hair, so different from the cheap perfumes the other dames favoured, driving him crazy as only she could.
For a few blissful months he'd actually believed they had a future. Until he'd introduced her to Carver. And hadn't that been a success.
He almost snorted aloud. "What do you want me to do?"
"Find the guy. Get rid of him." She exhaled a cloud of smoke that momentarily hid her face. "By any means necessary."
"I'm a private eye, not a paid killer." He got up and walked over to the door, opening it for her. "But I'll see what I can do."
"I know you will." Her face softened as she walked toward him. "Thanks, Nate."
He brushed her gratitude aside with a quick wave of his hand. "I'm doing it for Carver. The scandal would ruin his career."
"It probably would, at that." She briefly stopped, right in front of him, and raised a hand to trail it along his jaw, smiling when he flinched away from her touch. "But we both know that's not the real reason."
He didn't answer and she shook her head, laughing softly. "I'll be back."