C is for Coochy Coo (Malibu Mystery Book 3) Read online

  “C” IS FOR COOCHY COO

  A MALIBU MYSTERY

  REBECCA CANTRELL

  SEAN BLACK

  MMP

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  Other Books in the Series

  Also by Rebecca Cantrell

  Also by Sean Black

  Copyright

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  From New York Times bestselling and multi-award winning authors Rebecca Cantrell and Sean Black comes the third book in a new series that’s perfect for fans of Janet Evanovich, and anyone who likes their mysteries served with a side of laughter.

  Former child star Sofia Salgado is finally finding her feet as a trainee investigator at Maloney Investigations when she’s drafted in to help thirteen-year-old Daniel find his birth father. But there’s one snag.

  According to Daniel’s mom, former Los Angeles party girl Candice Collins, there’s more than one candidate.

  A lot more!

  CHAPTER 1

  Sofia Salgado had never felt quite so nervous on a stakeout. Which was saying something. Already in her short career as a trainee investigator with Maloney Investigations, she had been photographed dropping her drawers to take a leak, while conducting surveillance outside a Malibu rehab clinic, and with the bottom ripped out of her pajamas while escaping another rehab clinic with a rock star.

  This morning’s operation was a whole other level of difficulty. Next to her, Aidan Maloney, senior investigator and son of the agency’s owner, Brendan, shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat of the car they’d hired specially for the morning’s operation. She knew something was high stakes when Aidan was antsy too.

  No doubt covering his own unease, Aidan asked, “How’s your bladder holding up?”

  Aidan could be a real ass sometimes. For several days after her public humiliation had gone internet viral, Sofia had come into work to find a package of adult diapers on her office chair.

  “My bladder’s fine,” she replied. “How’s yours? The genito-urinary department here is pretty good if you’re having a problem.” She nodded toward the rear entrance of the UCLA Medical Center.

  Aidan smirked. “Problem peeing is the urology department, Salgado. Genito-urinary would be if I had the clap or crabs. Anyway, it’s good to know you rate their services so highly.”

  Damn it! Aidan was right. She’d meant to say “urology”. But she wasn’t about to concede defeat. “I knew that.”

  Aidan’s smile widened. “Sure you did.”

  With Aidan, the best form of defense was often attack. “So?” she asked him. “Still hitting Tinder?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” said Aidan, scanning the parking-lot entrance for signs of their target. They knew his vehicle really well, so hopefully he wouldn’t prove too hard to spot. “For your information I deleted my Tinder account last week.”

  “You mean you got banned for too much swiping?”

  “Weird you’d know that would get you banned from Tinder but, no, for your information, I deleted it because I’m officially seeing someone.”

  That stopped Sofia in her tracks. Not only was Aidan a serial dater, employing every dating website and app known to man, he also kept a rigorous checklist he used to dismiss women as potential partners on the flimsiest of pretexts. One potential girlfriend had been kicked to the curb because of how she held a fork.

  Aidan had also ruled out a relationship with women he’d dated because:

  1. THEY’D WORN the same color outfit on two consecutive dates. Not the same outfit. The same color outfit. “Laziness. If a woman can’t make the effort to change things up on the second date, the relationship’s already doomed.”

  2. Her mom’s BMI. Not the woman’s body mass index. Her mom’s. “The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” had been his explanation. “I usually check out how Grandma looks too.”

  3. For cutting her hair the week after he’d said how much he liked the style she had. “Totally passive aggressive.”

  So the fact that he’d quit Tinder and was seeing someone came to Sofia as fairly major news. “Whoa, back up there, A-dog. You’ve quit Tinder?”

  Sofia had picked up the A-dog thing from her niece, Violet, who had taken to calling pretty much everyone Dog (pronounced Dawg, like the rappers). Her first-grade teacher had not been amused and Sofia’s sister, Emily, and brother-in-law, Ray, had been called into the school to discuss it after Violet had asked her teacher, Miss Grace, “What’s up with all dis crazy class work, G-dawg? It’s da first grade, we should be stone-cold chillin’.”

  Aidan shrugged, like his bombshell was no big deal. “Yeah. So? And stop calling me A-dog. You’re from Indiana, not Compton.”

  He might have been playing it off like it was nothing, but Aidan had had a serious Tinder habit. At one point Sofia was sure he was risking a repetitive-strain injury to his index finger from all the left swiping. Left swipe meant he’d dismissed the person from further consideration. A right swipe indicated he was interested.

  Aidan’s left-to-right-swipe ratio must have been about a hundred to one and was usually accompanied by comments like:

  “Vain!”

  “Duck Face alert. Why do women do that?”

  “SIF!” Which Sofia knew from a previous discussion with Aidan stood for Secret Internet Fatty.

  She guessed it was better than the type of repetitive-strain injury usually associated with men spending too much time alone on the internet (that one was more wrist-based) but, still, Aidan ditching Tinder merited further inquiry.

  Now he was staring at her, the familiar annoying smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I just told you. I’m seeing someone.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.” It was true that, even while Aidan was dating, he kept trawling Tinder, just in case someone who fit his checklist better than the person he was seeing happened along. He was like the Great White Shark of the dating world, needing to keep moving constantly or risk drowning.

  Aidan shifted in his seat, Mr. Nonchalance. “What can I tell you?”

  “So, it’s serious?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Huh,” said Sofia, still trying to process the news.

  Aidan looked back at her. “What does ‘huh’ mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Then why say it?” said Aidan, not
about to give up. He was a master at taking things off on a tangent, and directing the conversation away from what he didn’t want to discuss.

  Sofia shifted round in her seat so she was more side-on to him. “Okay, I guess it’s surprising, A-dog.”

  Now that she knew being called A-dog bugged him, it had gained extra appeal.

  He rolled his eyes, an adult not about to rise to childish bait. “Why is it surprising?” he asked.

  “I thought you were on a mission to bang every available female under the age of thirty in the 310 area code. You can’t be through ten percent of them yet.”

  “That just proves how little you really know me. And bang? Really? Is that what the kids are calling it these days, S-dawg?” Aidan had suddenly assumed the moral high ground.

  “In any case,” he went on, “can we just focus on what we’re here for rather than my personal life?”

  Sofia was going to say something about being able to use her mouth and eyes at the same time, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to keep arguing, and Aidan would only make some kind of crude joke of it. That was why he was impossible to argue with. He constantly shifted the terms. He’d chide her for having a potty mouth, and the next moment he’d be spitting out double-entendres like they were going to be outlawed. It was infuriating.

  “Maybe he’s not going to show,” Sofia said, moving the discussion back to why they were there. “You’re sure this is where he’s been coming the past few days?”

  Aidan answered, with a world-weary “Yes. I followed him here yesterday. And the day before.”

  “You know, it’s probably nothing that exciting.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Aidan shot back.

  “Oh, come on, that’s not fair. I care about this just about as much as you do. I wouldn’t be here on my day off otherwise.”

  “Hold up! That’s the car.”

  Sofia got the briefest glimpse of the target vehicle. They both ducked as it drove toward them. Her head clashed against Aidan’s. Hard.

  “Ow.”

  “You have a head like a rock. Anyone ever tell you that?” said Aidan, rubbing his scalp where Sofia had inadvertently butted him.

  “Yours isn’t exactly made out of fluffy clouds and marshmallows. Well, not on the outside, anyway.”

  They peeked up over the edge of the dashboard. Their target had already parked and exited his vehicle, and was walking toward one of the many entrances to the UCLA Medical Center in Westwood.

  “It’s him all right,” said Sofia.

  Aidan didn’t say anything. He just stared straight ahead for a moment, then gave a little nod. She could tell he was upset. Sofia was too.

  Someone secretly visiting a hospital without telling their family was rarely a good thing. They watched as the double doors closed behind Brendan Maloney.

  CHAPTER 2

  “T here could be a perfectly simple explanation.”

  Sofia was clutching at straws. For her own sake as much as Aidan’s. Brendan was Aidan’s father, not hers, but he was also more than just her boss. A lot more.

  Although she was close to her stepdad, Tim had come onto the scene when she was practically grown-up. Brendan had been like a surrogate father to her when she was a kid. He had served as the main technical advisor on Half Pint Detective, the kids’ TV show she had starred in. Exactly why a show whose storylines mostly involved the goofier end of the crime spectrum (a giraffe stolen from the Los Angeles Zoo formed the centerpiece plot of one two-episode Christmas special) needed a former LAPD homicide detective’s advice was anyone’s guess. But Brendan had also kept an eye on her and her family when they were fresh off the boat from Indiana and adjusting to life in Los Angeles. He had looked out for them because he was like that. Always concerned about other people. Often to his own detriment.

  “What kind of simple explanation?” Aidan asked.

  She tried to choose her next words carefully. “Well, like we were discussing. There are lots of clinics here so maybe it’s nothing serious.”

  “Oh, great. So now you’re telling me my old man has the clap?”

  “What I’m saying is it might be something we don’t need to worry about. I mean, it would explain why he’s been so secretive. I’m not saying he’s visiting the genito-urinary clinic, but maybe it’s something that’s nothing for us to worry about, just something he doesn’t want to share.” She inwardly grimaced at her choice of the word ‘share’.

  Aidan took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and exhaled loudly. It was a gesture Sofia recognized. He was probably counting slowly to ten. She waited for him to gather himself.

  A few more moments passed and Aidan reached past her, grabbed the handle and opened the passenger door. “Go see where he went.”

  “Can’t you? What if he sees me?” Sofia protested. She wasn’t sure how she’d explain to Brendan what she was doing there. Maybe she could tell him she was visiting the genito-urinary clinic. It might actually be less embarrassing than giving him the real reason. That she and Aidan were surveilling him.

  “What if he sees me?” said Aidan.

  “You’re his son. You can tell him you were worried.”

  “So could you,” Aidan spat back.

  “It’s not the same. I’m an employee. What if he fires me?” Sofia wasn’t sure Brendan would, but maybe if he was angry enough . . . He had that Irish temper.

  “I’m an employee too. And, anyway, he thinks the sun shines out of your backside.”

  “He does?”

  “Oh, come on,” Aidan said. “Of course he does.”

  Huh. Sofia was kind of flattered by the idea.

  “Look, right now, I’m your immediate superior and I’m telling you to go inside and try to see where he went.”

  Aidan pulling rank like this meant he had run out of arguments.

  “You still haven’t told me what I do if he spots me.” Now all Sofia could do was stall for time. An order was an order. Maybe if they argued long enough Brendan would come out before she had to go in after him.

  A sigh escaped Aidan’s lips. “Covert surveillance is about making sure the target doesn’t see you, dummy.”

  “And counter-surveillance, which Brendan is an expert in, is all about making sure you spot someone if they’re following you. I’m still a trainee,” Sofia argued.

  “Which is why you need the practice more than I do.” Aidan wasn’t giving an inch. He seemed determined that Sofia would go inside.

  “Okay, okay.” Sofia gave up and got out of the car. “But if he asks whether anyone’s with me, I’m not going to lie for you.”

  “Fine,” said Aidan.

  “Fine!” said Sofia, slamming the car door and heading for the entrance Brendan had walked through a few minutes before. An entrance he could just as easily walk back out of at any second.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sofia’s idea of hospitals was based on watching TV medical dramas, so the interior of the UCLA Medical Center came as a shock. In places, especially near the main reception areas, it looked more like an upmarket spaceship, or a movie set, than a hospital, although looking at the walls, Sofia doubted that spaceships would have such expensive artwork.

  Before wandering the corridors in the hope of catching a glimpse of Brendan, she headed straight to a reception desk where a team of smartly dressed young women, who could have easily been models, were fielding calls and directing visitors.

  “I wonder if you can help me,” she said, when it was her turn. “I dropped off my father a few minutes ago, but I lost sight of him while I was parking. Could you help me locate him? His name is Brendan Maloney.”

  During her brief time with the agency, Sofia had learned that the best cover story was one that was close to the truth, if not the exact truth. She tended to get the details less muddled and it was easier to remember.

  She was half expecting a follow-up question or to be treated with some degree of suspicion. Instead the receptionist tapped at a keyboard, and frowne
d. “I’m afraid I can’t see anyone with that name on our patient lists. Could you perhaps tell me what particular clinic or doctor he was attending?”

  There it was. The question that would trip her up.

  “I’m sorry. I always forget the name of the doctor.” Sofia furrowed her brow, faking someone trying to dredge up a name and coming up short. “Nope, sorry, it’s gone.”

  The receptionist smiled sympathetically. “You don’t remember which clinic or unit he’s attending?”

  If she had been dropping someone off, she would have known. But, of course, she had no idea. Now the receptionist was looking at her, waiting for an answer. Any moment now Sofia was expecting her to summon security.