Taming McGruff(56)
“Thanks, sir.” His muffled voice came out, and then he straightened and closed the trunk with a definite bang.
Griff held out his hand and shook the older man’s hand. “We’ll have to do this again.” He marveled at the easy way Priscilla and the others teased and joked, even drawing him in a time or two at dinner.
“Nice of you.”
Swallowing hard, Griff wondered if he should ask. “Ex-cop, right?”
“It shows. Ex-military, right?”
He nodded. “You ran my plate that first night.” Griff thought he should thank him; otherwise his pixie would never have shown up on his doorstep with takeout and begun to chip away at the stone around his heart.
“Habit.”
“You still have connections.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any that could look into a cold case?”
“Maybe. What you got?”
“A white-collar crime.” His middle gnawed at him. Why was he trying to dig up his father’s past? Shouldn’t he focus on ruining Agnes King?
“Conviction?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t get that far. The guy…died just before the trial began.”
“Why now? You got a stake in the outcome?”
Personal one, yes. “Could be,” Griff said, deliberately evasive. If this guy was as good as Griffin’s prior research showed, he’d figure out the connection sooner or later. So why push it? Griff needed the truth. He looked directly at him, saying, “A lawyer. Charles King’s lawyer, to be specific. It could change nothing or everything for the King daughters.”
Edward seemed to size him up. “You benefit, too. You’re Priscilla’s husband.”
“Not financially, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t want any money. I don’t need any. You can check that out for yourself.”
“I already have.”
Griffin chuckled. “I thought so.”
“Habit.”
“Did you tell Alex or Charlie?”
“Nope. No reason to. Everything checked out.”
“Nice to know someone else is watching out for Priscilla.” The tight band around Griffin’s chest eased. If he couldn’t always protect her, then there were others who would.
“Comes with being family.”
Nodding, Griff looked away as the back door opened and Dolly, clutching leftovers to bring home to Charlie, and Priscilla came out. “You game? Name your price.”
“If it’s bad news, you telling them?”
He wrestled with it. It could only be bad news for him. “They should know. We all should, whatever the outcome.”
“No money. I’ll check around. Gives me something to do during the day while I’m waiting.”
“Can’t get rid of that old cop, can you?” Griff pulled out his cell phone from his top pocket. “What’s your number?”
Edward nodded to the car. “Car number.” He gave it to him.
Griff punched it in his phone, let it ring once, and then hung up. “Now you have mine, too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“After nine is good.”
“You got it.”
Griffin realized this was the beginning of the end. He’d have answers, but would he like them?
Chapter 20
With the vibration of the Harley under him and Priscilla sitting behind him with her arms hugging him, Griffin let all his questions go for now. The dark night streets swallowed them up and he welcomed the anonymity.
The fresh air cleared the cobwebs, soothing his troubled thoughts. In the back of his mind, he knew time ticked.
Only the here and now mattered. Her arms, wrapped around him, made Griff feel someone cared for the moment. He’d take that, take what little he could until there was no more.
He rode for miles, mindlessly driving. He’d done it in the past, many times, but with Priscilla it seemed different, intimate. Her sense of adventure coupled with her charm seeped into him and all the tiny cracks in his broken heart.
She sensed his moods. She knew him better than anyone ever had. And she didn’t hold it against him.
Not yet anyway.
***
The next morning, Peg met Griffin at King’s door.
“For crying out loud, the Barracuda is at it again.” His assistant shoved the folded newspaper she held at him.
His middle clenched. He read the headline: “Who is Griffin James?” “Must be a slow news day,” he muttered between gritted teeth. He scanned the rest of the society column; his attention caught the “reliable sources” phrase and he read that quote more closely. “He’s a fraud. He doesn’t exist before the age of eighteen…” Mrs. King had done her homework.