Asking for Trouble - Leslie Kelly [65]
Unable to learn much more, I decided to do something I’d never thought I’d do. My brother Mark was a protective pain in the butt, but he was still my big brother and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for me. And, of course, vice versa.
It was time to call in some help.
Going outside and walking around the house until I could find a spot where a few bars appeared on my cell phone, I dialed his number.
“Detective Santori,” he answered.
“Private Citizen Santori.”
“Lottie! Hey, girl, where are you? Why the hell haven’t you called? The folks are worried.”
“I’ve called, they just don’t know how to check their damn answering machine.”
Mark didn’t respond for a second, then he chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
“How’s Noelle?” I asked, wanting to stall a bit more before admitting why I was calling. It wouldn’t be good to appear too desperate, I’d learned from experience. Growing up, the more I’d wanted something, the more my brothers had made me work for it.
“She’s great,” he said, his voice getting soft and mushy the way all my brothers’ voices did when they talked about their wives. Or, in Nick’s case, when he talked about his latest Marine skirmish or machine gun or something. Ick.
“She’s getting an award from a national family organization for the Give a Kid a Christmas program she saved at the shelter last year.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic.” Then, knowing my brother, I added, “Don’t do something stupid like get involved in a case and forget to show up!”
“Impossible. The ceremony’s in D.C. I’m taking a few days off and we’re going on a minivacation. So how’s the job going? Everything okay at the murder house?”
Mark had been interested in my trip because of the crime angle, and I quickly gave him a rundown of what had been happening. Skipping, of course, any description whatsoever of my host. Or any details about our wild, sexual affair.
He obviously read between the lines. “Wait a second. You’re telling me the hotel is no longer even open and you’re staying there with the owner and nobody else? Who the hell is this guy?”
“He’s a nice man who could use some help,” I replied, determined to get through this without getting into a shouting match with my nosy sibling. “I need you to do something for me, okay? Simon—Mr. Lebeaux—was attacked during a robbery that went bad in Charleston in June.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mark murmured. I heard a few clicks and knew he was sitting at his desk, already pulling up any information he could find on my lover. Not because I’d asked him to help, but because he wanted to know more about the stranger I was living with. Alone. In the middle of nowhere.
“He’s young,” Mark said, his voice disapproving.
“He’s also totally hot,” I snapped back, “but that’s not the point.”
“Christ, he killed a woman? Get out of there, Lottie, now.”
I gritted my teeth. “Read the whole report. He was attacked, Mark. Brutally. And he has the scars to prove it.”
Another few moments of silence. Then came a grunt. “Okay. It was self-defense.”
That was probably as good as I was going to get. “The case is strange. Even I can see it.” Rubbing the corners of my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, I added, “They went into his room that night to kill him, not to rob him. Yet the media makes it look like the police know nothing about these people, not even where they were really from. How does that happen? Does it make sense to you?”
“People kill people every day.”
“Yes, I know,” I said impatiently, “but this is different. Please, just check into it, would you? See if you can use your all-cops-are-brothers network to find out more?”
“Why? What does this have to do with the old murder case? Isn’t that why you’re there?”
“That’s why I came.” I knew that while Mark was protective, he wasn’t a Neanderthal like Tony, the oldest. Nor was he as obnoxious