Zeph Undercover Read Online Free PDF

There went any chance of being with Allie. The man would keep track of every when and where—
    Focus, remember? He had to think like a detective, not like a—guy. The man might not be number one on the suspect list, but he’d certainly made the top ten. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much. I accept.”
    “At your house?” Allie said in a strangled voice.
    “He’ll be more comfortable there than at the motel. Will you be home for dinner, Allie? It’s at six thirty, Granger. See you later.” Wentworth left, humming under his breath.
    “You accepted his invitation?” Allie said, her voice high and disbelieving.
    “Were you going to let me stay here?”
    She nodded. “I thought for your cover—” She broke off at the expression on his face.
    “Cover be damned. Of course I’d rather stay here.”
    “So why did you accept his invitation?”
    “Allie. One, he’s your father. I couldn’t stand here and tell him I planned to shack up with his innocent little girl.”
    “Of course you could. Or I could have.”
    “Getting me killed isn’t the kind of help I wanted.”
    “He wouldn’t—well, maybe he would.” She shrugged. “That’s one. What’s two?”
    “Staying with someone so well known… um…important…in town, that’ll be a help with my investigation.”
    He’d have his tongue torn out before he told Allie that staying with her father also gave him the perfect chance to check the guy out.
    ****
    Zeph gave a silent whistle when he stopped in front of Wentworth’s house. Big, very big. White, very freshly-painted white. And old enough to be a Gold Rush original. The circular driveway dwarfed the Carrera. Some kind of horse-drawn thing could have turned easily in the space.
    He knew from the report on Wentworth that the reserved and pleasant woman who answered the door at Wentworth’s house was the housekeeper, Martha. “Mrs. Wentworth?” he asked.
    “No, sir.” She paused, and he gave her high marks for not assuming he was the expected guest.
    “I’m Zeph Granger. Mr. Wentworth told me to—”
    “Yes, Mr. Granger. I’m Martha, the housekeeper. Please come in.” She tried to take his suitcase.
    No way. Martha was at least his mother’s age and he’d been brought up right. Sweet little old ladies didn’t carry his luggage. “Not a chance, Martha,” he said, and followed her up the stairs to his room. Once she’d left, he stowed the locked briefcase inside the empty wheeled garment bag and locked that. Sharing a potential suspect’s lodging always carried the danger of discovery, but he’d be damned if he’d make it easy.
    He shoved the bag into the closet and went downstairs to check out the house and see what he might accomplish. Martha fussed over him with coffee and cookies, then made his day by first telling him that Wentworth wouldn’t be home until five and then saying, “I’ll be leaving for the grocery store as soon as the bread comes out of the oven.”
    “You actually make bread? I thought it came from the store.”
    Martha snorted. “Pre-sliced sawdust, that’s what comes from the store.”
    Pre-sliced sawdust, maybe, but damned convenient.
    As soon as she turned the corner, he hotfooted upstairs to Wentworth’s bedroom for a quick but thorough search. Finally, he admitted defeat. Based on the contents of the room, Allie’s father hadn’t had a dishonest thought in this life. He was neat without being freakish about it, wore expensive but not extravagant clothing, and read a lot of biographies. Nothing incriminating there.
    Zeph looked at his watch and eased out of the room. With luck, he’d have time to check out the office next to the dining room. He tucked the ring of lockpicks in his pocket and ran lightly down the back stairs to the kitchen to make sure Martha hadn’t returned. The coast stayed clear, so he hurried down the hall and paused at the office door, all senses alert and adrenaline singing in his blood.
    The knob turned easily in his hand.