“I took the liberty of finalizing your father’s affairs. This was the stuff you should have gotten after your father’s death, but didn’t. The check from us is what would have been in his retirement fund, had he retired, and insurance against the house and him. The company kept a separate insurance plan on both.”

  The amount was well beyond the worth of the mortgages, and would have seen her fourth generation of grandchildren through college. “You did this?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. You don’t deserve it. It’s just standard. I thought I would drop it off personally, though. You have a tendency to cause a lot of trouble. I didn’t need any more of you at the office. Besides, if you’ve got money to spend, you can stay out of my hair.”

  She grimaced. Right then as they looked at each other, she knew there had fallen a certain understanding. They would never like each other, but for the first time, they settled on the idea that they were at least human beings.

  “Don’t think worse of me if I say I hope I don’t hear from you again,” he said.

  “Ditto.”

  He walked back to the car then. When he got in, he said something to Beau. Beau got out. Sanders took over driving and took off, leaving Beau behind.

  Beau approached her. “So, you’re an heiress, I hear.”

  She sighed. She wanted to tell him thank you a billion times for all he had put up with her and for helping so much and yet nothing she could think of sounded anywhere close. She felt tears stinging her eyes, though, and came up with, “I really just want cappuccino chocolate chip muffin. Maybe two.”

  He laughed.

  They got into the Mercedes she had borrowed from Warren. She had been relieved to find out he was no longer seeing Leah. In fact, Mr. Sanders had caught Leah with her underwear down with one of the security guys at the office. Sheldon had mailed the photo, promising to be discreet about it… for a little incentive cash.

  Celeste drove out of Kiawah and back into downtown toward Beau’s apartment. Inside his apartment, she slid on to the couch, relaxing on her side, feeling the spring poking at her stomach. Beau was in the bathroom when Bonehead popped out from underneath the couch and then climbed up, balancing on her hip and thigh, staring down at her.

  “Welcome back,” she said to him.

  Bonehead blinked, settling down to stare at his from his position. She tried to keep still.

  Beau came out of the bathroom, spotted Bonehead. Bonehead sat up a little. She could feel his apprehension. When Beau moved toward her, he bolted and ran under the couch again.

  “Was that where he was hiding? I must have missed him. I swear I checked under there when we were looking. Plus a hundred other times since then.”

  “He probably used his invisibility cloak.”

  Beau sat on the couch by her feet, picking them up so he could sit and placing her feet in his lap. He was just sitting back when his cell phone started buzzing in his pants.

  “Christ, it never ends.” He pulled it out and answered it.

  She tried not to be snoopy, but she heard a few sharp, whiny syllables and knew it was Leah. Beau was short and to the point and soon hung up. “She wants her money back. She’s getting a divorce and Mr. Sanders had her on a prenuptial agreement.”

  “Did she really think I was sleeping with Mr. Sanders?”

  “If I could get evidence that Mr. Sanders was really cheating on her, the agreement would be void and she could sue him for millions. She was tired of waiting. I hate to tell her, but he’s never cheated on her.”

  “Why am I happy to hear this information?”

  “By the way, nice job on her nose. Jemse said she didn’t win the princess contest thingie. I bet you would have won if you stayed.”

  She wanted to disagree and opened her mouth to do so when he closed the gap between them and planted a kiss on her lips. His arms went around her, and she felt him pull her toward him. She rested her head against the crook of his shoulder and nuzzled at his neck. “So there’s this case. I don’t know if you’re interested in still working with me now that you now have a fortune to spend, but I could use a hand. You know. If you’re bored.”

  “I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a private investigator.”

  “Suit yourself.” He got up and went into the bedroom. When he came back, she was at the door, shoes on, ready to go.

  “I thought you said you weren’t going,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “Only if you jump in the dumpster this time.”

  He laughed.

  THE END

  About the Author

  C. L. Stone once lived on Folly Beach, SC but now lives in Louisiana. She loves chocolate chip muffins for breakfast and spends a lot of time writing stories. Find more of her books available at Arcato Publishing: http://www.arcatopublishing.com

 

 

  C. L. Stone, Smoking Gun

 

 

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