Chapter 1

Jamie MacNamara slipped his key into the old lock on the back door of Happy Housekeepers, the business he ran for his daughter Lucerne. When the door slid open before he’d even turned the key, his first instinct was to back away, turn around, and go down to his car to call the police.

Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to step boldly inside and tackle an intruder. But then that was twenty years ago. He paused and listened. Someone was moving around inside the little kitchenette. Trying to be stealthy, he started backing up the eight feet required to get to the back steps and inadvertently kicked into something with his heel. Swearing softly, seconds of memory flashing in his mind told him that the terra cotta pot planted with a single bright yellow Dahlia plant was about to be history. True to his thought, Lucerne’s flower pot rolled backward down the stairs and crashed onto the pavement of the parking lot, breaking into several different pieces.

Frozen in place and barely breathing, Jamie stared at the door, expecting to be bowled over any second by someone trying to escape. When he heard footsteps, they weren’t coming toward him, they were pounding hard toward the front office area. Quickly, he leaped into action, slamming the door backward and racing towards the front. When he got to the front, the door was wide open and he could see a slim figure racing down the steps dressed in a scruffy black sweatshirt that had seen better days, faded jeans hanging down the back of his butt cheeks, and thick brownish hair pulled behind his neck in a curled ponytail. Jamie made it to the front door and peered out, but the figure disappeared around the next corner and was gone without a backward glance. Whoever it was, they were fast.

Disgruntled, he took out his cell phone and headed back into the kitchen to assess the damages and call the emergency number. As he turned to his left when he entered the kitchen, it was the trickling of blood pooling from the corner that caught his immediate attention. Following the stream upward, his eyes fastened on the tennis shoe and lower jean-clad ankle of a man sticking out from between the fridge and the pantry that sent chills through his body. The large trash can that usually fit into the area was on its side, the contents strewn across the floor.

“Hello? Hello?”

Stunned, Jamie realized someone had finally answered his phone call. Stuttering, he tried to explain.

“T-There’s a body…I was broken into…there’s blood…someone ran away…”

Quickly, the disembodied voice on the phone started asking pertinent questions, and all Jamie had to do was answer them while he tried to collect his scattered wits.

“The police and ambulance are on their way, sir. Please don’t touch anything. Just stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

“Aye,” Jamie replied with a frown. “Ye don’t want me to check the person to see if he is alive?”

“Nay, sir. Ye appear to have interrupted a crime in progress, and ye don’t want to disturb the crime scene.”

Jamie nodded, although the lass couldn’t see him. He looked around the little kitchen, which was a complete mess. It looked as if there had been a fight. Doors to the cabinets above the counters were hanging open, biscuits were spilled out on the counter, and his coffee pot was shattered on the floor. He couldn’t even see the handle of it anywhere. It looked as if someone had been grabbing anything they could reach and throwing it on the floor. Or at someone, and then it had bounced to the floor. What in the world was going on?

When the jean-clad ankle suddenly moved and a groan emanated from the corner, Jamie stiffened. “Lass, the body just moved,” he informed her, his pulse racing. “And I heard a groan of pain.”

“For yer safety, sir, do not approach. Ye don’t know if this person is the victim or the aggressor, ye could be in danger.”

Backing up slightly towards the front office area, Jamie tried to see around the corner of the counter. The kitchen table and chairs had been shoved up against the wall. A chair lay over the top of the red trashcan blocking most of the view. He could see a big hairy arm bent at the elbow as if the man might be holding his head. Then the arm just dropped and Jamie wondered if he’d passed out? He sure had lost a lot of blood, so it wouldn’t surprise him.

“The police should be in the parking lot of yer location, sir. Please move to the back door and if ye have any weapons, put them on the floor.”

“Why would I have any weapons?” Jamie asked uneasily.

“I just have to read ye the precautions, sir,” the female voice added firmly. “Let me know when ye have engaged with the constables, please.”

Jamie moved cautiously out to the flat step of the concrete landing and watched two constables get out of their car and slowly approach him. “I see yer constables,” Jamie said into the phone, waving them forward.

“Thank ye, sir. I’ll be letting ye go now.”

“Aye, thank ye too,” Jamie added inanely. He dropped his phone in his pocket and engaged with the constables, Kearns and Withers. Kearns was the female, a mite taller and prettier than her partner, with her dark hair pulled behind her head, and a trim figure. Withers was stocky and muscled with short-cropped red hair and serious-looking blue eyes.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as they quickly took over the scene and called the detective inspector on duty. The ambulance drivers were waved into the secured scene and he got to see the rest of the man as they took him out on a stretcher.

Jamie’s eyes bulged when he saw the handle of his coffee pot protruding from the man’s muscled, upper chest, very close to his thick throat. “Cripes,” he exclaimed.

The man had several tattoos running up his arm and beneath his short-sleeved black t-shirt. He had cuts on his face and a huge lump over one of his thick, bushy eyebrows. There was no hair on his head, but the chest above his scoop necked shirt was hairy and matted with blood. He looked like a thug.

“Do ye know this man?” Kearns asked.

“Nay, I’ve never seen him before.” Jamie sat down on the deck chair that leaned up against the back of the building to dial Lucerne’s number while he waited for the lead detective.

Seeing what he was doing, Kearnes reached in and took his cell phone. “Ye can’t be calling anyone until ye have spoken with Detective MacBride,” she reproached him.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “This business belongs to Lucerne MacCandish. She needs to know what happened.”

Her eyes lit up with suspicion. “We’ve already confirmed that. Someone from the station is getting in touch with the property owner. What are ye doing here?”

Starting to get a bad feeling about the way both of the young constables were looking at him, Jamie replied. “I’m her father, Jamie MacNamara. I run this business for her. When I came into work this morning, this is what I found.”

Wither’s eyes widened and one brow shot up. “Ye told the dispatcher that someone ran out the front door, but that door isn’t broken. How did he get out then if he didn’t break it to run away?”

Jamie couldn’t believe his ears. Had law enforcement standards of admission been lowered?

“He turned the dead bolt and opened the door knob?” He asked the question as a sarcastic statement, which made the young constable’s ears turn red.

“Seems to me if he was running away after attempted murder, he wouldn’t bother to unlock anything.”

“Have ye ever tried running through a locked door?” Jamie asked facetiously. “It’s nae as easy as ye think.”

“That’s enough, Withers,” Kearns scolded. “The detective will sort things out, that’s her job.”

The way the two constables stood with their arms folded made him suspect that if he tried to get in his car, they would stop him. He was glad he had his jacket on. The early morning air was crisp and making the tips of his ears cold. It was just breezy enough that the colorful leaves from the oak tree on the side of the small lot were swirling and tumbling over one another as they raced across the asphalt.

“Is there any chance of getting inside to my desk?” he asked.

Constable Withers shook his head. “Sorry, but nay. It’s a crime scene now and no one’s allowed in.”

Jamie didn’t bother to argue with him, they were just following orders. Still, the situation aggravated him. He was glad Lucerne wasn’t coming in today because when they did call her, it would mean Darro would be coming in with her. At almost eight months pregnant, her husband didn’t want her going anywhere alone, and Jamie fully concurred. This would be his first blood grandchild and he was looking forward to the baby’s arrival.

“Finally,” muttered Wither’s, as a compact white Ford Mondeo MK3 with the yellow and blue markings of the Inverness police force pulled into the parking lot. “Her Highness is here.”

“Better not let her hear ye say that,” Kearns cautioned.

Withers huffed, but Jamie wasn’t listening. He was watching as the car pulled up to the steps and stopped. He caught a glimpse of dark reddish hair as she moved behind the windscreen. When she finally opened the door and stepped out of the car, her long straight hair ruffled in the breeze, sending her bangs skittering sideways over her forehead. She closed the car door and revealed her shapely figure in a cream-colored sweater that fell just below her rounded hips. Nice, stonewashed jeans were tucked into soft, calfskin boots. Around her neck was coiled a warm, brown wool scarf, but it was her face that drew Jamie’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

As she started up the steps, he stood up to study her face closely. She was a true redhead, although her hair was a lovely shade of sunlit auburn. Beautifully shaped brows, a slender nose, and plump lips made her a natural beauty. The goldish brown gaze studied him back. It was probing, dissecting his appearance, and making instant judgments based on experience. Her bearing was regal, her head high, and mocking dimples quirked the corner of her lips as if questioning his audacity stare at her.

“Ye must be Jamie McNamara,” she said bluntly, stopping in front of him. “Ye found the body.”

It was a statement not a question, causing Jamie’s eyes to narrow at her language. “I found the man, aye. He wasn’t dead when I found him though. Are ye saying he is now?”

She folded her arms across her breasts and then nodded. “Did ye know the victim?”

“I’ve already told yer constables I don’t know the man.” He nodded to Kearns and Withers. “And I have no idea what he or the other young lad was doing here.”

“Did ye know that the person who finds the body is almost always the killer?” Her eyes were mocking, intending to throw him off kilter with her direct approach.

Jamie did know that fact, but he refused to be intimidated.

“Then it’s a good thing I have an alibi, isn’t it?” He pointed above his head to the security cameras that Darro had installed for Lucerne’s business months ago. “They work too,” he added with an impudent drawl.

                                                                        ***

Pauley was pretty sure the man in front of her wasn’t a killer. In fact, she knew who Jamie MacNamara was because of the calls the department received for screening employees for the Happy Housekeepers business. She’d even seen him sometimes walking briskly down the riverwalk near lunchtime when she’d been driving to or from somewhere during her investigations. He was the sort of man any woman would notice.

His dark hair was evenly cut around his well-shaped head and interspersed with encroaching white tucked into its many layers, a manly roughness of a neat mustache and facial hair, and the most handsome smile she’d seen in a long time. He was smiling at her right now, even as he was mocking her. The intelligence that shone in his dark eyes told her that he was no fool and wouldn’t accept being pushed around without pushing back.

“Why don’t ye tell me what ye saw,” she replied with a brief glance at the cameras. If he said they worked, they probably did. They looked to be in good repair and his fastidious clothing and bearing told her he was no lay about slouch. The man took care of himself. The thought pleased her.

The number of men that hit on her since her divorce six years ago was endless. Most of them perfectly nice, middle-aged men with belly pouches who were either divorced themselves, or were looking to replace a deceased spouse they were lonely without. She’d gone out a few times for a meal, but she’d never repeated the same man twice.

If and when she ever married again, or even got into a relationship with a man, it would be someone she really wanted to be with. It would also be someone who wasn’t needy and could fend for himself without whining about her not being home to cook a meal. And one of her first priorities was a man who took care of his body. She worked hard to stay in shape for her job and well-being, so she expected nothing less of her next relationship.

If there ever was one.

Peter had left a sour enough aftertaste for her that she was in no hurry to be ring-tied, as it were, to anyone again. Dismissing her ex-husband from her mind, she listened intently to Jamie’s first-hand account as he took her through what had happened since he’d arrived at work.

“And ye didn’t get a frontal look at the man who ran away?” she asked when he finished.

“Nay, but I do believe it was a man from the way his jeans hung down his backside,” Jamie replied. “Not too many lasses I’ve seen with narrow hips and broad shoulders like that. Probably young, maybe even a teenager, since he was faster than a rabbit.”

“Is anything missing?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to look around,” Jamie confessed, his dark brows furrowing. “I’ve been informed it’s a crime scene, and I can’t get inside to check anything out.”

Pauley glanced briefly at Withers and Kearns, noting Wither’s sudden flush. Although he and Kearns had joined the department a year apart, Withers joining behind Kearns, it was obvious that he considered himself the senior partner of their duo. Idly, she wondered how long Kearns would put up with the ladder-climbing oaf? She’d seen his like before. The kind of man who considered himself superior in his job simply because he had the male anatomy.

The sound of tires on the asphalt behind her had her turning to view the vehicle pulling in. The sleek, black, Jeep Wagoneer must belong to Darro and Lucerne MacCandish, the owners of the Happy Housekeeper’s building. Curious, she watched him get out of the vehicle and come around to help his pregnant wife out her door.

Rumor had it that Lord MacCandish was an intimidating man who didn’t go by his title, even though it was the real thing. She’d never spoken to him. If and when he called, he was always directed straight to Quinn Tannock, the chief constable.

As he helped his wife up the steps to the landing, her gaze kept creeping up as he got taller. She was definitely impressed by his size and height; the man must be 6 ft 5 inches at least. Broad shoulders with a well-muscled physique you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley. With piercing blue eyes and a regal bearing, he was a man in charge of the world around him as he saw it. Even so, she noted how gentle he was with his wife.

“Dad,” Lucerne exclaimed, hugging Jamie. “Are ye all right? The police said there was a break-in.”

“I’m fine, honey,” Jamie replied, giving her a hug and then reaching out to shake hands with MacCandish. “Darro, good to see you.” He nodded towards Pauley. “This is Detective MacBride.”

Lucerne and Darro both nodded to Pauley, and Darro gripped her hand in a firm clasp. “Can we go inside where my wife can sit down?” he asked.

Jamie shot Darro a warning look and a negative shake of his head at Lucerne. “That’s nae a good idea, honey. Ye can sit here.” Jamie stepped inside and reached for his daughter’s arm to help her down into the lawn chair he’d just vacated. “It’s best for ye not to go inside just yet.”

Understanding lit up Lucerne’s green eyes as she gratefully accepted her father’s assistance. “That bad, is it?”

“It’s nae a pretty sight,” Jamie agreed. “With yer recent reaction to the sight of blood, ye might want to stay out here, lass.”

Darro turned to Pauley. “Am I able to view my wife’s business, or is it going to be closed for now?”

Pauley nodded, impressed that he had asked. “Aye, ye and Mr. MacNamara can go inside and determine if ye think anything is missing, just don’t touch any surfaces. I’ve got a team coming to sweep the premises for fingerprints and process the scene.” She hadn’t seen the crime scene herself yet, but she’d heard it was bloody. She should have been here earlier, but the man was still alive, although unconscious, and he’d been immediately rushed to the hospital. Since he’d died enroute, no one had been able to question him.

Lucerne frowned. “The only thing of any value would be the petty cash. I have a safe that came with the building, but there isn’t anything of value in it, just a few business papers. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to rob the place.”

“It doesn’t look like a robbery, Lucerne. It looks more like a fight that resulted in lethal consequences. At the risk of sheer speculation, it appears as if someone was looking for a place to hide and was followed inside by the pursuer. Which one being the real victim is yet to be determined.”

“Watch a lot of crime shows do ye, Mr. MacNamara?” Pauley taunted, secretly impressed with his analysis.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, his dark blue eyes studying her. “Let’s just say I’ve had a bit of crime scene analysis in my past and leave it at that,” he replied, a glint of humor appearing in the dimples that carved into his cheeks with his smirk.

“Did ye hide the bodies?” she mocked, not really used to be challenged in this fashion, but finding it amusing just the same. His smile was the real killer, it was fascinating and caused her breath to hitch slightly.

“Do ye have a rubber glove, detective?” Darro interrupted. “Jamie can check in the desk drawer for the cash box. Like Lucerne said, there’s nothing else of any value. Just the basics in the kitchenette for tea or coffee, a few dishes, and a biscuit stash.”

“I’ll go in with ye and ye can show me,” Pauley said. “I doubt my gloves would fit either of ye.” She took two white gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on. She turned to Lucerne. “If ye need anything, just let the constables know and they’ll come get us,” she instructed with a gentle smile.

Lucerne nodded with a frown. “Thank ye, but I’ll be all right. I can’t imagine where this nausea towards blood came from. I’ve never had it before now. It’s like all my senses are heightened and I can even smell it. Ugh!”

Pauley chuckled with sympathy. “It’s the pregnancy, it can do strange things to yer body. With my first baby, I couldn’t stand the smell of haggis. I couldn’t cook it, I couldn’t eat it, and I couldn’t be in the same room with it.”

Withers snickered from where he and Kearnes stood with their hands behind their backs. Pauley glanced over at him with a fiery glare. “Ye got something to say, Withers? If so, spit it out where we can all hear ye. I’m sure yer fine mind must have a lot to add to the conversation?”

Withers turned red and muttered. “Nay, I’ve nothing to say, ma’am.”

Pauley’s eyebrow shot up. “Ma’am? Be professional, Constable Withers.” She waved her hand at his general appearance. “I don’t want to see ye again with yer boots unpolished and yer shirt sticking out between yer buttons, and I never want to hear ye address me as ma’am again. It’s Detective MacBride, or boss, take yer pick,” she added caustically, putting the young man firmly in his place.

“Aye, Detective MacBride,” he replied, standing up smartly and staring straight ahead.

Pauley nodded and stepped up to open the back door, Darro and Jamie following her inside. “This certainly looks like a fight,” she observed with interest as her glance raked around the room. The coppery smell of blood was in the air and she sniffed delicately.

She’d already seen the pictures of the body with the coffee pot handle embedded in the man’s lower neck. Kearns had sent them to her when the man was carried out on the stretcher. The glass beneath the rounded spout of the coffee pot had nicked the carotid artery, and he’d already lost too much blood to be stabilized in the ambulance.

Her eyes were drawn immediately to the blood congealing in front of the corner area. There was a lot of it. Not to mention the mess they’d made trying to get the man out of the corner. With her new aversion to blood, it was good that Lucerne hadn’t come in.

Tommie Ruskag wouldn’t be beating debts out of anyone for his boss anymore. By tomorrow, there would be another enforcer to take his place. Tommie was a mean customer in a fight. Whoever had killed him had gotten lucky. Breaking the coffeepot and using it to stab his attacker had been quick thinking on his part. Not something Tommie would have been expecting, most likely.

Walking briskly into the office area, she stopped in front of the wooden desk. There were no papers strewn across it, or carelessly stacked piles falling off the sides. The filing cabinet in the corner was old but shining and well-polished. The huge potted plant hanging in front of the window near the visitors’ chairs was enjoying the morning sun. It’s variegated colors of green were healthy and growing. There were four blue-plaid cushioned visitors’ chairs with a low coffee table in front of them to create a pleasant atmosphere. It was all very neat and orderly, just like Jamie himself.

“Which drawer, Mr. MacNamara?” she asked, one eyebrow going up.

“Bottom left,” he replied.

Quickly, Pauley bent over, opened the drawer, and took out the silver, dented cashbox, and sat it on the desk. When she opened it, there were bills and cash inside. “I’d say they weren’t after the cash,” she remarked, glancing up at him. “How much is here?”

“Probably about 60 pounds and some change,” Jamie replied. “I never worry about the exact amount.”

“I’m surprised ye don’t have it down to the penny,” she observed with a taunting grin. “Ye just seem like that sort of person.”

He studied her with interest. “Ye might be surprised at how unorthodox I can be then, lass,” he taunted back, “given the right circumstances.”

Pauley would really like to know what those circumstances might mean because it was obvious from his teasing smirk that he had something in mind. However, she wasn’t about to ask. She could feel the pink stealing up her neck and turned back to the cash box to hide her face. How had he managed to make her feel like an awkward young girl again?

Snapping the lid closed, she placed the box in the drawer and gathered her defenses firmly back into place before she turned around to present her all-business demeanor once again. The back door was just opening and the crime scene team was walking in, a welcome relief that kept her from having to reply to his comment.

“Gentlemen, I’ll let ye know when ye can have the building back,” she said to Darro and Jamie.

“Is yer team responsible for cleaning up, or do I need to get someone in for that?” Darro asked.

“We’ll get a professional crime scene cleaning company in to take care of that for ye. It isn’t something victims should have to deal with.”

Darro nodded. “Aye, thank ye.”

“I’ll need my client list to make phone calls,” Jamie said. “Can I take the laptop? Or do ye need that for fingerprints?”

“Ye can take it after my team takes the prints.” She motioned to one of the girls with the team. “Natalie, can ye dust this laptop for fingerprints please? Mr. MacNamara will be taking it with him.”

A trim, auburn-haired girl with white booties over her shoes and a hairnet walked over. “Aye, Pauley, right away,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Pauley narrowed her eyes. No matter how many times she’d asked Natalie to call her detective when at work, she just couldn’t be bothered to get that formal, even on a crime scene. Of course, Pauley was on a first-name basis with all the crime scene people, but her own daughter was the only one who refused to stick to protocols.

Jamie caught Natalie’s impropriety and shot Pauley a teasing grin. “Pauley. I like that name.”

“It’s Detective MacBride,” she shot back smartly, her face flushing despite herself. She liked the way it sounded in his mellow, smooth voice. Walking towards the back door, she tried not to feel like his eyes were on her arse the entire time.

She refused to look back and check.…Pre-order now at a discounted price!

You can find the first two in the series, Christmas Housekeeper Wanted, and A Flower for Angus here! CLICK HERE!