Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,25

“Here’s my card.”

What did that prove? I let his card hang between his fingers. He wiggled it at me. I took it.

“Would you like to call Mrs. Avery?” he asked. “She’ll verify that she’s hired me.”

“Do you have a photo ID?”

His face broke apart with laughter. Mustache going one way, bottom lip the other way.

I tried not to be offended. “What good would it do if she says she hired ‘Galigani’ when all I have to prove that you’re Galigani is a business card?”

“You’re right. Here you go.” He opened his wallet and shoved his driver’s license at me. “This, too.” He dug into the wallet and pulled out a worn private investigator license from the State of California issued to Albert Galigani.

“What’s her number?”

His face registered surprise. “You’re actually going to call her?”

“I’m a new mom, my car’s been broken into twice, my brother-in-law is missing, and I found my friend dead yesterday. I can’t let a stranger into my house. What if you try to kill me?”

“If I was going to kill you, I could have done it through the crack in the door. But please, by all means, call Mrs. Avery.”

He was right. He could have already killed me.

I shut the door in his face. He rang the bell again. I ignored him, got out the phonebook.

Ah! Here was an instance where actually using the phonebook would be faster than an online lookup. Okay, so maybe the books were still good for something.

I found two numbers under Avery, Michelle’s and another one. I dialed the second one.

The doorbell rang again. Let him wait.

I got voice mail. Of course. No one answers their phone anymore. I left a message. Why couldn’t anything be easy? The bell rang yet again. I opened the door with the chain in place.

“Stop ringing the bell. You’re going to wake my baby.”

He looked contrite. “Sorry. Did you reach her?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. You’re going to have to come back after I hear from her.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, tilting his head back in a huge dramatic gesture. “Listen, lady,” he said on an exhale. “I got a job to do. People are unsafe, like you said yourself. Your friend ended up dead. If someone killed her, it sure as hell wasn’t me. I’m one of the good guys.” He opened his hands in an imploring gesture. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this.”

I chewed on my lower lip. I believed him. I’d believed him from the start. But the logical part of my brain told me I couldn’t just let strangers into my house.

When had I become fraidycat Kate?

“Don’t ring the bell again,” I warned. I shut the door. I dialed the number on Galigani’s card marked MOBILE.

I watched him through the peephole. He stood on my doorstep and waited, ignoring his ringing cell phone.

“Pick it up, it’s me,” I said, through the door.

He laughed and dug his phone out of a hip pocket. “Hello?”

“What do you want to know?”

“I just need a little info. You knew Brad Avery?”

“No. Just Michelle.”

He pulled a little notebook from his pocket; scraps of paper flew out of the back. I watched him pick up the slips of paper from my doorstep, bunch them up, and shove them into his pocket. “Michelle, huh? The second wife.”

There was a first? Was that Gloria?

“You found her dead?” he continued.

“How do you know that?”

The ends of his mustache went up. He looked toward the peephole. “It’s my job to know. Are you going to open the door?”

He was right. This was ridiculous. I hung up and opened the door.

I motioned him inside. He stepped forward cautiously, eyeing me up and down.

He visibly relaxed. “You know, I’m probably more frightened than you. You know who I am and what I’m doing here. I never know who I’m talking to. For all I know, you could be the murderer.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he raised his hand in protest. “I know! I know! You’re going to say you’re not. Everyone says that. I don’t think you are anyway. The guilty ones are never paranoid. They want you to march right in and start asking questions. They like to think they’re so smart they can fool you. Hell, sometimes they do.”

I gestured toward the sofa, then shoved a pillow and a blanket to the side to make room for him. “Do you want coffee or anything?”

He shook his head and sat. “How did