Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4) Read online

  Enough wallowing, Mila thought. What she needed now was a good night’s sleep. It was tempting to simply crawl into bed, right in her clothes and shoes, but even a disaster of mega proportions wasn’t an excuse for becoming a slob. That’s how one sank to the bottom—it started gradually by skimping on little things and then grew, like a snowball, amassing more misery and self-pity. I’m going to take a long, hot bath and then I’m going to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, she reminded herself.

  Ignoring her fatigue, Mila stooped to pick up her purse off the floor. Absent-mindedly she grabbed an envelope that must have been shoved under her door. Probably another stupid announcement from the landlord, she thought, about to chuck it, but the name typed on the envelope made her pause—Milochka. Only her mother and one other person had called her that, and Mila was certain there was no way for her mother, who lived in Prague, to shove an unstamped enveloped beneath her door. Her hands shaking, Mila pried open the envelope. I’d go to the end of the earth to find you, was typed in the middle of a white page.

  There was no signature or any handwritten marks on either the letter or the envelope to identify the sender, but Mila felt her back break out in cold sweat, as her entire body began to shake uncontrollably. She had heard these words uttered many times by a man who elicited nothing but dread and disgust in her. She knew exactly who had sent her the letter and she was terrified.

  Chapter 6

  When Mila woke up the next morning, the events that had taken place over the past twenty four hours seemed so surreal that for a moment she thought she had awakened from a nightmare. But of course she knew it wasn’t so—everything that had happened yesterday had happened to her, and now she had to find a way out. The fire that had consumed Amy and Mila’s was no longer her top priority. What had felt like a disaster of monstrous proportions, now seemed insignificant compared to the note she had found in her apartment last night. Anton Kovar—the name sent her into violent tremors. The note had to have come from him. But how could he have found a way to reach her when he was supposed to be locked away in jail?

  Suddenly Mila had a frightening thought—what if Anton was the one who had set the bar on fire? What if he had intended for her and Amy to be inside when it happened? No, she thought, that’s impossible. Anton Kovar was locked up in jail, along with his criminal mastermind uncle, Petr, and his brother, Roman. She was certain of this because she’d personally provided the necessary testimony to put them away. The authorities had told her that the Kovars would never be eligible for parole. And yet, through some mysterious act, Anton had managed to send her a message. Another horrifying possibility entered her mind—what if Anton had escaped from prison?

  Mila had never cared much for the news, preferring to focus on her own life instead, but even though she shunned both TV and news websites, she was certain an event of such magnitude couldn’t have escaped her attention. Still, it didn’t hurt to check. With trembling fingers, Mila reached for her cell phone and typed in a quick search for Petr Kovar. Instantly, her heart began to beat uncontrollably as she saw a headline come up, Petr Kovar and Nephews Die in a Car Accident during a Transfer to a Jail Facility.

  By the time Mila finished the rest of the article, her heart was about to burst out of her chest. The deep, horrifying sensation in the pit of her stomach told her the Kovars were very much alive—she had the note from Anton Kovar to prove it, along with the ashes left from what used to be Amy and Mila’s. There was no doubt in her mind now—the fire was Anton Kovar’s doing. In one fell swoop her life had been turned upside down.

  What was she going to do now? She couldn’t risk going to the police about Anton, as it would lead to the police questioning her and everyone close to her. The thought of Philip finding out about her past so abruptly filled her with dread. She had always meant to tell him about her past, but springing the news of her criminal ex-boyfriend on Philip now would surely put an end to their relationship. She’d already lost so much—she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Philip too.

  There was only one person she could call—Dennis Walker. Mila hadn’t been in contact with him since the Kovars went on trial and she hoped she still had his number. She raked through the contact list on her cell phone—of course he wasn’t there. She must’ve deleted his number in her attempt to start over with a clean slate—so much for that. Mila felt deflated—Dennis Walker was such a common name—how on earth was she ever going to find the Dennis Walker she needed? She raked her memory—the Dennis Walker she was after worked for a private investigation agency—Kirk & Associates. She typed ‘Kirk & Associates’ into the search browser and within seconds the contact information appeared on the screen. She quickly punched in the number. Come hell or high water, Dennis Walker was going to fit her into his schedule today.

  ***

  “So how did the meeting with the wedding planner go yesterday?” Dennis asked, as he placed a cup of coffee and a doughnut on Janet’s desk.

  Janet took a sip. “Mmm, hazelnut—my favorite. Are you trying to atone for your sins, Dennis Walker? Bribery won’t work on me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s just a little something to brighten up your morning.”

  “Aha.” Janet took a bite of her doughnut—it tasted heavenly.

  “I’m sorry I blew the wedding planner appointment,” Dennis apologized. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure with work and planning the wedding.”

  “And don’t forget the apartment search,” Janet pointed out.

  “That too. It’s a lot and I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. I guess I’m not very good at planning things, but I promise to change. Going forward, I’m going to be fully invested in the process.”

  “Great.” Janet brightened up. “How about tonight? I have a meeting for a wedding cake tasting at six p.m. It’s going to be so much fun!”

  Dennis scratched the back of his head. “Errr, didn’t you do that already?”

  “That was just a preliminary meeting with our planner to tell her what kind of cake we’d like. I gave her a few ideas and she’s gone ahead and pulled a miracle by getting us an appointment with Francois Bissette.”

  “Sounds very impressive.”

  Reading right through Dennis’s charade, Janet explained, “Francois Bissette is New York’s most coveted pastry chef. But if you can’t make it tonight, I understand,” she added, fully aware that she was pulling a passive aggressive card.

  Dennis raised his hands. “I’ll be there. I’d love to be there—I was just asking.”

  “Great. So we’ll leave together from work and go straight there.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Oh, and that’s not all!” Janet said cheerfully. “I just got a call from Fiona saying that she has a new listing, asking if we’d like to see it tonight.”

  Dennis shifted on his feet. “Don’t you think it might be a bit much for one night? Could we see it tomorrow?”

  “You’re right. Let’s do that. I’ll tell her to set it up.”

  Just then the intercom buzzed. “Dennis, there’s a call for you,” the receptionist announced.

  “Who is it from?” Dennis began, but then added hastily, “never mind. I’ll take it in my office.”

  Janet rolled her eyes. “You’d think a receptionist would know to ask who’s calling.”

  Dennis shrugged. “I’ll leave that for Ham to deal with. Now, I’ve got to go and take my mystery call.”

  “Have fun. Don’t forget about tonight.”

  “I won’t.”

  The moment Dennis left, Janet got back to work. She had a slew of investigations to get through and staying late in the office tonight wasn’t an option. She had been so engrossed in her work that she’d forgotten all about Dennis’s mysterious phone call and was surprised to find him, looking slightly disheveled, standing on the threshold of her office thirty minutes later.

  “Janet, honey, I’m so sorry,” he began.

  “Uh-oh, I don’t like the sound of
that.” Janet looked up from her computer screen. “Don’t tell me you can’t make the pastry chef appointment.”

  “I’m afraid something came up last minute. A new case.”

  “Was it that phone call?”

  “No. It’s something Ham just dropped on my desk. He wants me to get cracking on it right away, so I won’t be able to make it tonight.”

  “Can’t it wait? I’m sure Ham would cut you some slack if you explained—”

  “Normally he would, but this is super urgent.”

  Something in his voice made Janet think he was lying. “I see.”

  “Can we reschedule the pastry chef meeting?”

  “No, we can’t reschedule Francois Bissette,” Janet said tartly. “It’s a miracle he’s willing to meet with us in the first place.”

  “In that case, you’ll just have to represent us both.”

  “Fine.”

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Janet pouted. “I’d like to believe you, but it’s starting to get harder and harder with you constantly bailing out on things. If you’re having cold feet you can just tell me.”

  “What? No!” Dennis walked across the office and behind her desk. He took her hand into his. “Janet Maple, I promise you there’s nothing I want more than for you to be my wife. But all this wedding stuff—it’s superficial. It’s not important.”

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it. It’s like the entire wedding industry has been created to add extra stress and aggravation.”

  “I meant about me being your wife.”

  “Oh, sorry. You know I do, Janet. If it were up to me, I’d marry you in city hall tomorrow, or we could always go to Vegas,” Dennis added with a wink.

  “But what about our friends and family? They’re expecting a wedding.”

  “I’m not marrying our friends and family. I’m marrying you, and I’m telling you what matters to me,” Dennis said firmly, looking into her eyes. “I understand that a wedding is important to you and I want you to have what you want. I promise to try to be there as much as I can.”

  Just not tonight, Janet thought, but bit her tongue. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as such a drama queen.”

  “You’re not a drama queen. You’re just upset. I’ve got to get back to work, okay?”

  “Okay. Do you want to have dinner tonight? Nothing fancy—just takeout.”

  “I’d love to, but I’ll probably be working late. Tomorrow?”

  “I just thought you might want to sample the wedding cake—I was going to bring some back for you.”

  Dennis squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I’d really love to, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to swing it tonight. Can you save it in the fridge for me?”

  “Sure.” Janet forced fake cheer into her voice. “All right then, tomorrow.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she watched Dennis walk out into the hallway. The urgency in his step told her he couldn’t wait to get out of there. A new assignment that just happened to coincide with their wedding cake tasting? And then there was that mysterious phone call. Something didn’t add up. As difficult as it was, Janet forced herself to put the matter out of her mind—she had work to do, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do some digging later.

  ***

  At four thirty p.m., Janet pushed her chair away from her desk with satisfaction. She had accomplished all her tasks for the day, which was the perfect pretext for her to swing by Ham’s office.

  While walking across the hallway, Janet noticed that Dennis’s office was empty—he must have left recently since she had heard him speaking with the receptionist only a few minutes ago. She knocked on Ham’s office door and waited.

  “Come in,” Ham’s voice carried through the door.

  Janet walked inside and shut the door behind her. As usual, Ham looked busy. He’d loosened his argyle-patterned tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. There were countless folders on his desk and his eyes looked tired behind the reading glasses.

  Ham lifted up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Hi Janet. How’s your day going?”

  “I just wanted to give you an update on my cases.” Janet placed a neatly typed status sheet on Ham’s desk.

  Ham put his glasses back on and examined the list. “Excellent work, Janet, excellent work. Our clients will be very pleased.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “You’re doing it very well and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. You’re a damn good investigator—it takes more than a good hunch, you know. It’s important to have your priorities straight, and you certainly know how to do that.”

  “Thank you, Ham. I’m just part of a great team. If you need my help on anything else, just let me know.”

  “Will do. I’m sure we’ll have something new come in soon.”

  “So nothing new came in today?” Janet asked innocently, hoping she wasn’t going to set off any alarms.

  “Today—no, but we’re sitting on a very comfortable padding of account receivables,” Ham said, clearly pleased. “So if you’re worried about our workload, there’s no need to worry. We’re doing very nicely. In fact, I wouldn’t want to burn you and Dennis out.”

  “Of course not. I’m very grateful for your understanding.”

  Ham smiled. “I like to think of myself as the perfect boss.”

  “You are, and Dennis and I both love working for you,” Janet flattered the old man.

  “You’re too kind.” Ham checked his watch. “I don’t mean to kick you out of my office, Janet, but I have a conference call with the FBI director—probably about a new case.

  “Of course, I understand.” Janet turned to leave.

  “Thank you for a job well done, Janet. Why don’t you call it a day?”

  “Thanks Ham. I think I’ll do just that. I’ve got some wedding planning to catch up on.”

  “You two lovebirds.” Ham grinned. “I sure hope Dennis is pulling his weight. Let me know if you need me to straighten him out. I know how men can get when it comes to wedding plans.”

  Janet smiled. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  Once out in the hallway, Janet saw that Dennis’s office was still empty. He was probably gone for the day. She checked her watch—it was a quarter to five. If she hurried, she might still catch the receptionist.

  Janet was relieved to see the gray cloud of Anne’s hair as she approached the receptionist’s desk. “Anne, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

  “What’s that dear?” Anne clasped her purse, which had already been planted on her desk in preparation to storm out of the office the moment the clock hit five p.m.

  “A word?” Janet repeated. “It will only take a minute.”

  “Yes, of course. How can I be of assistance?” Anne’s bleary eyes stared at Janet through a set of thick lenses. It was hard to say exactly how old Anne was, which could be anywhere between sixty and eighty, and Janet never mustered up the guts to ask. According to Ham, Anne came with excellent references, had a wealth of experience, and was the pinnacle of discretion. Janet certainly agreed with the latter—Anne could barely remember to take a message, let alone divulge any of the agency’s private matters. And she was probably happy to work for far less than her younger counterparts, which was probably the true reason Ham had hired her.

  “Anne, I was wondering if you might remember a phone call that came in this morning?” Janet asked in vain hopes.

  Anne stuck a pencil into her hair and scratched it vigorously. “This morning? Could you be a bit more specific, dearie? We get so many phone calls here.”

  “This morning when Dennis was in my office and you buzzed him through the intercom?”

  Anne reached for the message pad, licked her crooked index finger, and flipped through the pages. “Let me see. “This morning . . .”

  Janet shifted on her feet, thinking the whole thing was a waste of time. She was
about to thank Anne and walk away when Anne surprised her.

  “Oh, I remember. It was a woman, a young woman. She had a very faint accent and she sounded real nervous. She said she needed to speak with Dennis Walker and wouldn’t leave her name when I asked her for it.”

  “She wouldn’t leave her name?”

  “No dearie, she wouldn’t. I always ask, you know, but sometimes they just won’t tell you.”

  “Of course.” Janet blushed—apparently Anne wasn’t as forgetful as she’d thought.

  “Well, I’ll be going now.” Anne heaved herself up from her chair. “If you need me, I’ll be here tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp.”

  “Good night, Anne.”

  Janet went back into her office, debating what to do next. There had to be a reason for Dennis not telling her who the mysterious caller was, and the fact that it was a woman—a young woman with an exotic accent—made it that much more alarming. Janet patted her chin—all in all, there were two options. The first option was to ask Dennis point blank who the caller was and if she had anything to do with his suddenly busy evening. The other, less desirable option, was to break into his computer and see the appointments on his calendar. Typically, they synchronized their business cell phones with the backup software on their work computers to make sure the data wasn’t lost—it made it easier to keep track of meetings and assignments for case billings and things like that. This would enable Janet to see Dennis’s schedule. All she had to do was log on to his computer.