RUN FASTER: A Hallie James Mystery (The Hallie James Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  RUN FASTER

  A Hallie James Mystery

  DK Herman

  Run Faster

  A Hallie James Mystery

  DK Herman

  ©March 2017 All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced without written consent of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and other incidents are the product of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, locations, or organizations are purely coincidental.

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  For my husband and favorite poet, Russ.

  ONE

  Over the last year, my life’s felt a lot like bungee jumping. My fall was sudden and terrifying, but the rebound is proving to be an awesome ride.

  It's been almost a year since my sleezebag ex-husband conned me out of a fortune, leaving me to live in a small RV. I'd been barely getting by, working as a bartender/waitress at an Inn. Then I was visited by my Aunt, who made me see that I was being silly, hiding away from my family and friends.

  I was welcomed back to my hometown with open arms, by my aunt, my grandmother and her now fiancé, George, and by all my old friends. Old friends, including my high school sweetheart, Hank Ross. But things had cooled off considerably with Hank after it was discovered who'd killed his little sister, nineteen years ago. Almost six months after that horrible night, he still wouldn't speak to me. That was the same night, my best friend was taken from my life.

  But lately, I've moved on very nicely.

  I'm Hallie James. I've recently opened my own private investigation agency in my hometown of Herville, Pennsylvania. Yay, me! I had help, of course. My grandmother cosigned for a business loan, and my Aunt Jeannie is renting me office space. It's in a building, two blocks from main street, and two doors away from the local coffee shop, Brews. I'm in Mocha Latte heaven!

  I've been a PI since I was twenty-five, doing my three-year internship at Allen and Williams. They're a huge, well-respected agency, near where I used to live, in the Poconos. My new firm has only been open a few days, but we already have many clients. Herville is in Central PA, and I don't have any competition for fifty miles.

  I also have the help of a terrific staff. My assistant/intern, Ben Gordon, moved from Ohio and now lives in the apartment upstairs from the office. Ben is the brother of a murder victim, from the last case I worked.

  Helping me to investigate his sister’s murder, Ben discovered he enjoys the work, and I discovered I like having him around. Not because he's an incredibly good looking, well built, young man, (OK, it didn't hurt), but he's a genuinely good person. He'd spent every waking moment helping me get the office ready to open. We remodeled and decorated the large first floor to create a professional, yet relaxing atmosphere.

  The reception area has taupe walls and pine wainscoting with cinnamon trim. The receptionist's desk faces a dark brown leather couch and chairs grouping, with a working fireplace in one corner. Sage carpeting and drapes accent the large room perfectly.

  My receptionist is former bank teller, Linda Young. Linda's sixty-five, old enough to retire, but she’s a people person who loves to work. She thought working in a PI's office was fun. She manages to be both warm and professional, simultaneously. I’m lucky to have her.

  There were four offices in the back, plus a cozy break room. The largest office is mine, across the hall is Ben's. The third belongs to my organized and efficient office manager, Jessica Stein. Jessie is the girlfriend of Andy Ross, a friend of mine who’s a local cop.

  I poached Jessie from an insurance agency. She's thirty-six and divorced with two kids. She needs to work but seems to enjoy the new job, and I was paying her well. But the way day to day operations ran so smoothly, she was worth every dime.

  The fourth office is for my computer specialists. These employee’s duties are to do the more difficult research. Also, they're in charge of cyber security, ours and our clients, when needed. I found one perfect person for the position in my own home. Her name is Poppy Hopper.

  Poppy is George's granddaughter and has a B.S. in Computer Science. After eloping, Poppy and her new husband, Woody, stayed at my family's home for a few months.

  They'd left California and moved to Pennsylvania when Woody was accepted at a local university, to finish his master’s degree. Last weekend, the newlyweds moved into George's empty house, and I hired Poppy after an impressive demonstration of her skills.

  I parked my dark emerald green SUV, (a Christmas present from Gram), near my agency and walked quickly, through the cold February morning. It'd been a mild winter so far, with more rain and ice storms than snow. But it was a nippy seventeen degrees this morning. I gratefully reached the door to Brews, dashed inside, and ordered my morning mocha latté.

  Ben entered the shop as the Barista handed me a large paper cup.

  "Get a chocolate chip scone, you know you want one," Ben said with his breathtaking smile. I'd seen that smile hundreds of times over the last three months, but I was still awed.

  "I'm good,” I answered. I swear Ben could read my mind. I did want a scone, but I'd turned forty in December and was in fear of getting fat and old.

  I've been thin all my life, and stood five feet eight. So far, there wasn't any gray in my gold highlighted, honey brown hair, and my leaf green eyes were still bright and clear. But I wanted to keep old age at bay. I knew it was lurking nearby, just waiting to pounce, like a lion on a gazelle.

  So, I'd made a new year’s resolution to eat healthier and exercise more. Yes, I've slipped, but the next day, I make myself begin again. Unfortunately, yesterday was the thirty-second time I'd started over.

  I gave Ben a determined look and waited by the door for him to get his order. The scones were out of my sight there, but not out of my mind.

  Ben came over with a cup carrier, and a paper bag. “I got Linda and Jessie's orders too. I didn’t think you’d be in until later. Don’t you have a dress fitting this morning?""

  "At eleven. I'll leave around ten thirty. That'll be plenty of time to meet Gram and Aunt Jeannie at the bridal shop."

  Yep, I was going to be a bridesmaid. This time, for my grandmother and her fiancé, George Murphy. George has been recovering from a gunshot wound to his shoulder. After months of physical therapy, he had most of his range of motion back.

  He and Gram agreed it was time for them to get married. The ceremony is scheduled to take place next Saturday, at our church. The reception is at a local fire hall. Unbelievably, it was being catered by Hank Ross. Hank, my ex-boyfriend and love of my life, who seemed to want nothing to do with me now.

  Hank's brother, Andy Ross, had advised me to give him time. So, I did. But I refused to make the first move toward reconciliation. I'd be damned if I'd apologize when I'd done nothing to deserve his anger.

  Whether Hank gets over it or not, I have to move on. After things settled down at my new office, I intended to start dating again. How many warm baths with a romance novel, could a girl take? I hadn't been intimate with a man in almost a year.

  I held Brew's door for Ben, and we quickly walked to the agency. I held that door for Ben while admiring the shiny brass plaque mounted by the door. It gave me a thr
ill every time I read, James Investigations.

  Inside, Ben handed out cups of coffee and gave Jessie and Linda each a scone on a Brew's napkin. We all went to the soft leather furniture and sat in front of the fireplace.

  I sat down and pouted a little. I wanted a scone. Ben sat next to me and pulled out two more, placing one in front of me. I waffled a few seconds before giving him a sheepish smile and took a bite. I guess it would be thirty-three redo's. I sighed and nibbled on the buttery chocolate chip deliciousness.

  "I sent your schedule to your laptop and phone," Jessie said. "I scheduled nothing between ten a.m. and one this afternoon. Is that enough time for your dress fitting?"

  "It should be plenty. Thank you, Jessie," I said. I'd been a bridesmaid several times before. The dresses were always hideous, but I was hoping Gram would have better taste.

  I pulled out my phone and looked at the schedule Jessie had sent. My first appointment was in twenty minutes. It was with the manager of a local department store. He wanted security checks on employees and covert surveillance of employees at point of purchase.

  This meant hidden cameras at the cash registers. I made a mental note to suggest that he also watch his vendors. The store had been suffering from a lot of missing inventory over the last year.

  Poppy and her husband breezed into the office. Touchingly in love, Woody Hopper brought his wife into work every morning and picked her up every afternoon. Woody's a pleasant, studious, young man. Tall and thin, he wore cliché, black framed glasses on an average face. He waved at the group by the fireplace with a mittoned hand.

  "Morning all," Woody said. "Cold enough for you?"

  I really hate that phrase. It’s February in Pennsylvania, it gets cold. And it’s only for a couple of months. Put on an extra damned sweater and quit your bitching. But since he's a newbie from California, I decided to let it slide. "Good morning, Woody. And Poppy, is your cold any better?"

  "Yeah, I slept great last night," Poppy said. She's a tiny, brunette with short hair surrounding a pretty, little face. "Grampa has me drinking hot water with lemon, honey, and whisky in it before bed. It seems to be helping." Poppy, not quite five feet tall, stretched up to kiss Woody goodbye.

  "See you at five-thirty, babe," Woody told his wife after returning her kiss. He gave the rest of us another friendly wave and went out the door.

  Poppy went into the back and returned with a mug of herbal tea. She detested coffee, so she kept tea bags and honey in the break room. "Can I ride with you to the bridal shop, Hallie?"

  "Sure, be ready at ten-thirty," I replied.

  At ten-thirty, Poppy and I were on our way to Marielle's Bridal Boutique. The temperature was climbing towards thirty degrees, and the sun was shining brightly. Even though the mild winter was great, I had to admit that a little snow would be prettier than all this bleak, brown, leaflessness, everywhere you look.

  Marielle's is in an old Victorian house, a few miles outside of town. I pulled into the large driveway and parked next to Aunt Jeannie's car.

  Here, there was color. The large house was painted violet with cranberry and gold trim. It reminded me of a circus wagon. I hope this wasn't an indicator of Marielle's taste in dresses.

  Poppy looked at the house admiringly. "So, cool," she muttered.

  I rolled my eyes. "Come on, let's get this over with." I'd better not end up looking like a damned birthday cake.

  Gram and Aunt Jeannie were waiting for us inside, along with Marielle and two assistants.

  I looked a lot like Aunt Jeannie, who looked fantastic at fifty-three. And Aunt Jeannie looked a lot like Gram. Except for Gram's only a little over five feet tall, and in her late seventies, she'd let her hair go white. They were both impeccably groomed and dressed well. I always wanted to be like them when I grew up. I still do.

  "Wonderful, you're on time!" Gram said. "Poppy dear, how's your cold?"

  "Much better, thank you," Poppy said, eyeing several garment bags on a nearby hook.

  "Shall we get started?" Marielle asked. She seemed like one of those nervous, thin people, who can never sit still for very long. She fidgeted with her hands while waiting for a reply.

  "Yes, please," Gram answered.

  Marielle picked up a black, garment bag and handed it to an assistant. The large-boned, older woman took it with a smile and asked me to follow her to a fitting room. I heard Marielle bustle Gram, Aunt Jeannie, and Poppy into rooms too.

  "I'm Carol," the woman said. She hung the garment bag on another hook inside the fitting room and asked me to strip down to my bra and panties.

  I took off my knee length, brown leather boots, brown velvet skirt and my beige cowl necked sweater. I loved dressing in winter, it provided opportunities to wear richer fabrics. I love velvet, corduroy, suede, and angora and cashmere wool.

  As I undressed, I heard the garment bag unzip. I turned toward Carol, a hopeful expression on my face, and my jaw dropped to my chest.

  This couldn't be the dress, I was expected to wear. It was hideous, even worse than a birthday cake! An off the shoulder, tea length gown with layers of puffy lace and tulle, it reminded me of a giant carnation.

  And It was my most hated color, orange, with sparkly rhinestones. And not a mellow orange either, but a bright, almost neon orange. I could wear this monstrosity in the woods during dear season, and the hunters would see me for miles.

  I felt myself panic as Carol held the orange horror higher for my inspection. She smiled as if expecting praise. All I could do was shake my head, no.

  I had to get it together. This was for Gram's day, and I had no choice. With a forced smile, I put on the nightmare of a dress.

  It fit well, but you couldn't tell if I had a waist or a bosom, through the yards of puffy fabric. The skirt belled out, like I should be dancing at Twelve Oaks and was covered with even more rhinestones. I looked like a giant, sparkly, orange carnation.

  Carol zipped up the back and reached behind her for a shoebox. I almost fainted when she pulled out a pair of three-inch, spike heel pumps of emerald green silk.

  "Don't you think that orange or white would be better?" I gulped. I loved the color of the shoes, but they would clash madly with the dress.

  "Your grandmother chose these herself. She mentioned that your favorite color is green," Carol said smiling pleasantly. "Aren't they lovely?"

  Yikes, there was nothing I could do about it. I slipped my feet into the green shoes and scowled into the floor-length mirror. For my grandmother, I would walk down an aisle, in front of two hundred people, like this.

  I'd rather try to charm a hive of killer bees, but I love my grandmother. I wouldn't wear this nightmare of an outfit for anyone else. Except, maybe Aunt Jeannie. I felt a glimmer of hope. What did she think of this train-wreck?

  I stood still while Carol pinned the dress and then, took it off quickly. Even after the dress was back in the garment bag, I saw flashes of orange when I blinked. I dressed in my own clothes and zipped up my boots. Then I hurried to find my aunt. Maybe she could talk Gram into a different dress.

  I found her and Poppy sitting on chairs in the parlor, sipping tea. They looked happy.

  "Aren't the dresses awesome?" Poppy asked me enthusiastically. "The color washes me out a little, but they're so pretty."

  I kind of expected that reaction from her. I looked at my aunt with a pained expression.

  But Aunt Jeannie smiled broadly. "And the shoes are so cute," she said. That shade of green is gorgeous.

  I felt faint again. A week from tomorrow, I was going to be in a big wedding, looking like an orange acid trip. Before I said something to upset Gram, I had to get out of here. I looked at my watch. "I should get back to the office. Are you coming with me, Poppy?"

  "We were going to lunch, but if you have to get back, go ahead," Aunt Jeannie offered. "I'll drop her off later. But don't forget, I'm going to pick up Poppy's parents at the airport this evening. So, you’ll have to take Mom to her meeting with the caterer at seve
n."

  "Sure," I mumbled, eager to escape out the door. I was in my car and stopped at a red light before I remembered, the caterer was Hank.

  The afternoon went by quickly. Ben sat in on a meeting with a suspicious wife, who wanted to know if her husband was cheating in her own bed. I'd never done infidelity cases before, but it was a popular service at most agencies.

  I gave her a special lamp to place in her home. When plugged in, it functioned as a regular lamp, but it also had a hidden video camera, triggered by a motion sensor. It would record digital footage for forty-eight hours on a loop. If she suspected her husband had company while she was gone, she could check the footage with her laptop.

  Next, Aunt Jeannie's boyfriend, Karl Beyer, came in with a file for an upcoming court case. Karl was an excellent criminal defense attorney. He needed information on witnesses who were being presented in court. I assured him a week would be plenty of time to gather the information that he needed.

  After Karl left, I pulled on my coat and walked to Brew's. I ordered another Mocha and eyed the pastries. I already blew my resolution for today, and I hadn't had any lunch. With a sigh, I ordered a couple of blueberry muffins and a half dozen whoopie pies.

  Whoopie Pies aren't pies, they’re a thick chocolate cake batter spooned onto a cookie sheet, then baked. After the round pieces of cake cool, white filling or frosting is spread between two, sort of like a cookie. They’re delicious.

  The barista bagged my order, and I headed back to my office. I was finishing a whoopie pie when Ben tapped on my door and entered before I could answer.

  "What's wrong?" He sat on my office couch and patted the seat next to him.

  I gave him a shrug and a blank look.

  "Come on, Hallie. I admire your healthy appetite, but you're eating your emotions again. Why don't you share your goodies, and tell me what's bothering you?"

  I took the bag from Brew's and my Mocha and joined Ben on my couch. This couch is also soft leather, but a moss green. It went well with the rest of the room which has cream walls and sage green drapes and carpeting.