“Not true. The universe wants you to stay because if you don’t, the bad guys will win.”
“Well, then, the universe is going to have to throw us some meatier cases, and by meatier, I don’t mean in the form of a rodent.”
“It’s that bad?”
Carly nodded. “Another few months and Stone Investigations won’t exist.”
Frowning in that oh-so-familiar way, Desiree twirled a chunk of pink-streaked blonde hair. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m behind on rent. If I don’t pay the electric bill, we’ll be working by candlelight.”
“Can’t you work something out with your dad?” Desiree climbed down, slipped into her stilettos, but kept her gaze glued on the floor.
When Carly’s grandpa passed in February, her father took over as building landlord and her free ride came to a screeching halt. Though her dad charged her less than the going rate to rent the Pennsylvania Avenue office in southeast D.C., it was still a big chunk of change that she didn’t have.
Carly’s sigh was laced with frustration. “He hasn’t been so great about returning my calls.”
“Okay, so what happened to the new clients Sinclair sent our way?”
“Two still haven’t paid. One wants to barter. She doesn’t believe money is the best way to do business.” Carly groaned. “My grandpa would hang his head in shame at what I’ve done to his beloved business.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong. People don’t seem to need private eyes like they used to. They hunt for people on the Internet. DNA testing is done by spitting into a test tube. I’ll make it a point to ask everyone who comes in for a referral. No worries.”
“Thanks,” Carly said before returning to her office. But she was worried. She needed a lot more than referrals to turn her business around. She needed a solid case, something that would put her investigative agency back on the map.
And make Grandpa Pierce proud of her.
Because God knows, her parents weren’t.
The doorbell chimed. Must be my three o’clock. She rolled the silky lip gel across her lips, then tugged her suit jacket down. I need this, so git her done.
Desiree tapped on her office door. “Craig Pluckett is here.”
With a smile, Carly rose as her prospective client walked in. “Mr. Pluckett, I’m Carly Stone.” She shook his hand. “Have a seat.”
“Call me Craig.” He settled into the chair across from her large antique desk.
“Craig, your assistant explained that you’re shopping PI firms. Who are you working with now?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. What I can tell you is that they’ve jacked their prices way up.”
“Are you looking for routine background checks for your hotels in the D.C. region?”
“No, the entire country. My department oversees as many as a hundred and fifty background checks a week.”
Carly did the math in her head and perked up. If she landed this gig, she could pay her overdue bills and have money left to advertise, something she desperately needed to do.
After discussing particulars, Carly determined she could save the hotel giant tens of thousands. “I’ll email you my proposal. When are you making your decision?”
“In three months, when my current contract expires.” Craig glanced at his watch. “Where’s Carlyle? I’d like to meet him before I leave.”
“You already have. I’m Carlyle.”
Craig paused. “I thought Carlyle was a man.”
Ah, crap. She let the silence speak for itself.
While shifting in his chair, he cleared his throat. “I…um. Every private investigator I’ve ever worked with has been a man. How long have you been in business?”
