Archive of Our Own

“Well, mission accomplished.” E.L. Turner settled back in the passenger seat of the car. “Who would’ve thought a guy with a bad back could run that fast?”

Lionel Whitney smiled as he waited to make a left turn out of the parking lot. “Certainly not his insurance company.”

He’d managed to take some incriminating photos of the man on disability leave—lifting a heavy box “delivered” to his door by E.L., dancing at a nightclub with several different women, mowing his lawn—before finally being spotted.

“Rex,” E.L. continued. “Must be short for Tyrannosaurus Rex. That’s what he looked like in the rearview mirror.”

“One of the few times I’ve urged you to drive faster,” Lionel joked.

Turning in evidence was always satisfying. Sometimes he wondered if he was really making a difference as a detective, so moments like this made it seem worthwhile. Better than his old job, by far.

“What’s on your mind?” E.L. asked a few minutes later, noting his silence.

“The brokerage house,” Lionel admitted. “Whenever I’m in the area, I can’t help thinking about what I’d be doing there right now.”

“Something exciting, I’ll bet.”

“Yes, actually. Lunchtime was always the highlight of my day. Until it was time to go home.”

E.L. shook his head. “I can’t even imagine, man.”

“There’s a little Greek place I used to go to around here,” Lionel recalled. “The food is amazing. I can’t believe I haven’t been there in a while.”

“Greek?”

“And Mediterranean.” Lionel was getting hungry just thinking about it. “You know, gyros, stuffed grape leaves, baba ganoush . . .”

“Baba what?” E.L. asked, confused.

“It’s a dip made with eggplant and fresh herbs and olive oil,” he explained. “Oh, and they have this Greek salad with pita bread. Baklava for dessert. You have to try it, E.L.”

“Steady, big guy. That’s a lot of food for one meal.”

“You don’t have to order the entire menu. Just start with the gyros.”

“What is a yeer-o, anyway?” E.L. asked.

Lionel was already pulling into the parking lot of a small diner. “A Greek sandwich on pita bread. They cook the meat on a spit.”

E.L. looked wary. “What kind of meat?”

“Beef.” Lionel got out of the car. “And . . . uh, lamb.”

“Lamb?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“What if I don’t?” E.L. wanted to know.

“Then I’ll buy you a cheeseburger,” Lionel said.

“Okay.”

They went inside the diner, which was already bustling with the lunch crowd. But a man in his sixties wearing a blue apron came out from behind the counter to shake Lionel’s hand.

“Hey, Mr. Lionel! Where you been?” he asked with a big grin. “I think maybe you forgot about me.”

“No, Gus, of course not! I’ve been a little busy, that’s all. I told you I was quitting my job to start my own detective agency, remember?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Gus looked thoughtful for a moment. “You like that better than crunching the numbers, eh?”

“Yes, a lot more,” Lionel told him. “I’d like you to meet my friend and associate, E.L. Turner. E.L., Gus Iraklidis, owner of this fine establishment.”

Gus shook E.L.’s hand. “Welcome. Any friend of Mr. Lionel is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you, sir,” E.L. said. “He was just telling me how much he likes the food here.”

“Please, call me Gus. And look at him.” The man elbowed Lionel. “He likes the food, but he’s still a string bean! We need to fix that, yes?”

“Now you’re talking,” Lionel agreed.

After taking their orders, Gus disappeared into the kitchen. Lionel and E.L. sat at a table on the outdoor patio with their fountain drinks.

“This is nice,” E.L. admitted, looking around. “Small, but nice.”

Lionel nodded. “Gus doesn’t want a bigger place. People keep trying to talk him into expanding, but he’s not interested.”

“Were you one of those people?” E.L. asked with a knowing look.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah, but I probably would’ve done the same thing. Gotta think big.”

Their food arrived a short time later, on a large tray. As Lionel sorted out the plates and small bowls, a light breeze blew a scrap of paper off the table.

“You dropped something,” E.L. pointed out.

“Probably the receipt.” Lionel leaned over to pick it up, then looked at it. “It’s a note from Gus.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

“He wants to talk to us tomorrow morning, at this address downtown.” Lionel showed E.L. the note. “He said to call him if we can’t make it.”

“Huh. Wonder why he can’t just talk to us on the phone. Or right here.”

“It must be a private matter,” Lionel said. “I hope he’s not in some sort of trouble.”

“Well, if he is, he did a good job of hiding it.” E.L. took a bite of his gyro. “Mmm . . . okay, you were right. This is great, man.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Because if Gus really was in trouble, Lionel thought, they might be coming back here sooner than he’d expected.

****

“This can’t be the right place,” E.L. said the next morning. The address Gus had given them was for the third floor of a medical building.

Lionel looked worried. “Maybe he’s sick.”

“Uh, Lionel, these doctors aren’t for sick people.” E.L. pointed to the sign on the door. “You do know what an OB/GYN is, right?

“Of course I do. It’s a—”

“Lionel!”

They both turned as a dark-haired, very pregnant woman headed their way. E.L. stared at his partner, waiting for enlightenment. It finally arrived a moment later, after the woman gave Lionel an awkward hug.

“Melina? Is that you?” he exclaimed.

The woman laughed. “I know, it’s been a long time.” She patted her stomach. “At least one kid ago.”

“Yes,” Lionel said, smiling. “How old is David now?”

“Twelve. He’s living with his dad in Colorado. I remarried last year, so maybe I’ll finally get a little girl.”

Lionel was about to say something else, but E.L. cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, E.L. This is Gus’s oldest daughter, Melina . . .”

“Thanou,” the woman added, shaking E.L.’s hand. “You’re a detective too, right?”

“That’s right,” he said.

“Pop told me you changed jobs, Lionel, but they’re both right up our alley.” Melina looked around. "Can we sit down and talk? I need to take a load off."

They followed her around the corner to a Zen-like waiting area, with lots of plants and a small fountain.

“Sorry about all this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” Melina said, lowering herself into a chair. “My dad figured nobody’d suspect anything if I met you here, at my doctor’s office. I think he’s watched too many private eye movies.” She smiled at Lionel. “That’s why you changed jobs, isn’t it? You were always reading those mystery novels on your lunch break.”

“He’s got his very own trench coat now,” E.L. said, before Lionel could get started on his fictional hero, Mark Savage. “So, Gus needs our help?”

Melina nodded. “We think someone might be stealing money from the restaurant.”

“An embezzler?” Lionel asked, surprised.

“There’ve been some suspicious things going on for about the past six months. Profits are down. Like the holiday season; that’s usually our busiest time. But this past year we did okay, not great.”

“Do you work at the restaurant too?” E.L. asked.

“Yes, before I got pregnant, I handled the bill paying,” Melina explained. “Wrote all the checks. I’m on maternity leave right now, but I still stop by a lot to see how it’s going.”

“Who’s doing your job now?” Lionel asked.

“My brother-in-law, Bill. He’s a college math professor, on sabbatical.”

E.L. grinned. “Wait—so Bill’s paying the bills?”

“Yes, he is,” Melina said, smiling, “and he’s heard all the jokes. He took over the rest of the bookkeeping after my uncle retired last year, but my dad couldn’t wait to replace him.”

“Why?” Lionel wanted to know. “Was he not doing a good job?”

“Well, he’s a little disorganized. Sometimes it took him a while to find things, like bank reconciliations and other documents, in all the clutter.” She sighed. “We’re a family business, so we try to employ as many relatives as we can. But to be honest, I don’t think my dad trusts Bill. They’ve never really gotten along since he and Zoe first started dating.” She smirked. “Maybe because he’s not Greek.”

“Did he hire another relative to take Bill’s place?” Lionel asked.

“My husband, Nick. He used to work for one of our distributors. Pop loves him—he calls him Niko.”

Lionel and E.L. glanced at each other.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Melina added. “But Nick’s a great employee. He wants our business to succeed. I don’t know. . . maybe Bill resents him. Wants to get back at him or something.”

“You think Bill is the embezzler?” Lionel asked her.

“Well, I don’t know who else it could be,” she admitted. “It is a small business.”

“Have you noticed any major lifestyle changes?” E.L. asked. “Like, did Bill run out and buy a new Porsche or anything?”

“No, I would’ve heard Zoe bragging. Of course, they do have two kids to put through college someday—Persephone and Theo.”

E.L. winced. “Persephone?”

“Yeah, they gave their kids Greek names, at least,” Melina said.

“Well, you know we can’t assume guilt without actual proof, of course,” Lionel told her. "Have you ever had an audit done?"

“We were just thinking about calling someone, actually, when you guys walked into the restaurant. Pop said it must be a sign. We’re hoping you and E.L. can come into our office tomorrow morning and pretend to be auditors; check the financial records. Nobody else knows you’re a detective now, just that you were a regular customer.”

Lionel agreed right away, of course, wanting to help Gus—and maybe score some free food. E.L. made a mental note to remind him about the potential hazards of taking on friends as clients. At least Lionel was in his element for now, recommending that Melina have Gus call an employment attorney for legal advice, and notify his insurance company about a possible theft claim.

When he was finished, they walked to the elevator together. Melina stepped inside, but E.L. grabbed Lionel’s arm before he could follow her.

“I need to talk to my partner for a minute,” he told her. “You go on ahead.”

“Okay. Thanks again, guys.” She waved as the doors closed.

“What are you doing?” Lionel asked.

“Don’t you know you should never get in an elevator with a pregnant woman?”

Lionel stared at him. “Why not?”

“Happens every time on TV, man. A pregnant woman takes the elevator, then it gets stuck between floors, and she ends up going into labor.”

“That’s fiction, E.L., not real life.”

“Yeah? You mean, it never happened to Mark Savage?”

“No,” Lionel said.

“Well, then,” E.L. said, leading the way into the now-vacant elevator, “that’s why you didn’t think of it.”

****

Shuffling papers wasn’t really E.L’s thing. He’d have to help with it eventually, of course, but for starters, talking to the other employees at the restaurant was more his speed. After he’d finished questioning the frontline staff, he headed back to the small office area.

“Now there’s a picture.” He grinned at Lionel, who sat at Bill’s desk, working his way through a large stack of financial and bank account statements. “Having fond memories?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve missed it,” Lionel admitted. “But it is sort of interesting.”

“What?”

“Seeing how a small business operates.”

“Oh, right,” E.L. said. “Find anything?”

“Not yet.” Lionel sighed. “But someone might be cooking the books.”

“Speaking of which, Nick’s free now, if you’re ready to talk to him.”

Lionel stood up and stretched, then rubbed his eyes. “Very ready.”

Nick Thanou smiled as E.L. and Lionel introduced themselves. “Mel tells me you and Gus go back a ways.”

“Yes,” Lionel said, sitting on the side of his desk. “Once I tried the spanakopita, he couldn’t get rid of me.”

“And then he got me hooked,” E.L. added. He wasn’t sure if that was true yet, but they had to play the game.

He could see why Melina and Gus were so taken with Nick. He had the air of a charmer: good-looking, with wavy black hair, blue eyes, and a confident manner. Right away, the needle on E.L.'s con man detector started tipping dangerously close to the red zone.

“I know what you mean,” Nick said. “It is great food. But, of course, Melina was the main attraction for me.”

“Congratulations on your impending arrival,” Lionel told him. “Is this your first child?”

“Oh, no. I have twin girls from my first marriage.”

“Twins? Wow,” E.L. commented.

“Yeah, all we need now is a little Nicky.” The man smiled, like a toothpaste ad model. “You know, Nikolas Jr.”

Melina was hoping for a girl, E.L. recalled. “If you don’t mind my asking, when is your wife due?”

Nick chuckled. “Not for a few more weeks, believe it or not. At least, that’s what her doctor says.” He stood up. “Well, I have a meeting with a vendor, so I’ll get out of your way now. If you find any errors, let me know. It’s taken me a while to straighten out Bill’s transaction files, but something might’ve slipped through.”

“Yeah, we heard Bill’s a little disorganized,” E.L. commented.

Nick grabbed his jacket. “Don’t tell him that. He thinks he’s an accounting wizard.”

As soon as he left, E.L. looked at Lionel. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, we haven’t met Bill yet,” he said diplomatically, “but he does seem to be the scapegoat around here.”

“I’m sure that’s what Melina wants to believe,” E.L. pointed out.

“You think Nick’s up to no good, don’t you?” Lionel asked.

“Could be. You gotta watch out for those smooth-talkers, man.”

Lionel sighed. “But why would he do that to Gus? I mean, he’s his favorite son-in-law. He has a loving wife; a child on the way. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” E.L. agreed. “But who knows? Like you said, we haven’t even met Bill yet. Anyway, we have more work to do before we can be sure. So what’s next?”

“Invoices. You can check the amounts, who they’re going to, and if they’re being paid on time.”

E.L. grimaced. “Sounds like fun, man. And what are you gonna do?”

“Go through these transaction files Nick was talking about,” Lionel said.

Well, if those were the only two choices, then invoices didn’t seem so bad after all. “Can’t wait to get started, buddy, but how ’bout lunch first?”

Lionel checked his watch. “Might as well. Let’s see if there’s a table outside.”

“Food and fresh air. That’s more like it,” E.L. agreed.

****

The dolmades—stuffed grape leaves—were as good as Lionel remembered. Even E.L. was impressed. They were ready to get back to work when Melina walked in, followed by a man they hadn’t seen before.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “This is Bill Fowler, Zoe’s husband. Bill, these are the auditors I told you about.”

Bill nodded with a grunt of acknowledgment before settling at his desk. Friendly guy.

“Is Nick here?” Melina asked.

“Uh, no, he said he had a meeting with a vendor,” Lionel told her.

Bill snorted. “Aka the two-hour lunch. He thinks he’s still working for that big company instead of this little hole-in-the-wall.”

“And yet he always gets his work done on time,” Melina shot back. She lowered her voice. “So how’s it going?”

“Well, we’re still checking things out,” Lionel said. “Hopefully, we’ll find something soon.”

E.L. looked up from his pile of invoices. “Oh, one of the servers told me she’s seen Diana dipping into the tip jar a few times.”

“Seriously? Ugh. I’ll have a talk with her.” Melina went into the restaurant.

“Hey, I might be on a roll,” E.L. added a moment later. “I just found a weird invoice.”

“Weird how?” Lionel asked, interested.

“There’s no street address for the vendor. Just a post office box.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to ask Bill about it.”

“I guess we do have to talk to him sometime,” E.L. agreed, getting up. They walked over to his desk.

“Found something already?” Bill asked with a note of sarcasm.

Lionel couldn’t help wondering what Zoe saw in him. Compared to Nick, his looks were ordinary. He wasn’t scoring any points on personality so far, either, but maybe he was just annoyed by the way his wife’s family treated him.

“Yeah, this invoice for a vendor called All the Buzz,” E.L. said, showing it to him. “The checks are mailed to a p.o. box?”

Bill smirked. “That’s one of Nick’s pet projects. He has a friend with a beekeeping business in the foothills somewhere. He’s been supplying the honey since Nick took over.”

“You don’t know where this business is?” Lionel asked.

“Out in the boondocks somewhere. Maybe Melina knows the actual address. The friend picks up his mail at the post office, instead. Our check should be there tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this a lot to spend on honey?” E.L. wondered.

“Yes, but they use a lot of it in Greek cooking,” Bill explained. “And Nick says it’s all-natural, high quality, so it’s worth it.” He shrugged.

“You mentioned that Nick used to work for a big company,” Lionel said. “Do you happen to know the name of it?”

“Hobarth Container Corp. They’re a big distribution company; disposable cups, plates. Nick met Melina at one of those vendor meetings, and decided to come work over here.”

“He quit his job for her?” E.L. asked, surprised.

“Well, he said he quit.” Bill seemed to be warming up now that gossip was involved. “I guess if he was fired, his employer would’ve told Gus when he checked his résumé. I just heard he was tired of being a small fish in a big pond, so he wanted to help build up this business.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Lionel asked.

Bill looked at him, like he was sizing him up. “I’m sure they’ve told you any errors around here are probably mine. I’m just a teacher, after all, not an accountant. But the truth is, Nick’s the one you should be watching.”

“Do you have any proof of that?” E.L. wanted to know.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m just counting the days until Melina can take her job back. College students are much easier to deal with, believe me."

“Well, thanks for the information,” E.L. said. He and Lionel went back to Nick’s desk.

“I’ll have to ask Melina if she has the address for that honey business,” Lionel commented, making a list. “We need to do site visits for all of the vendors anyway. And we should probably check with Nick’s last employer, too.”

“All right, field work tomorrow.” E.L. smiled. “Do you think Bill’s right? About Nick?”

Lionel looked thoughtful. “He might be. I haven’t found anything to make me suspect Bill so far. A few little mistakes, but nothing big.”

“So we’re narrowing it down?”

“It looks that way,” Lionel said. “We should follow Nick tomorrow.”

“Why?” E.L. asked, surprised.

“Bill said that check for Nick’s friend should be at the post office then.”

“And you think Nick might be picking it up for him?”

“No.” Lionel lowered his voice. “I think he might be collecting that payment for himself.”

****

E.L. looked up from Bill’s desk the next morning. “Well, how’d it go?”

Lionel sat across from him, keeping his back to Nick. “Melina found the address for All the Buzz. She’s never been there, though.”

“She hasn’t?”

“No. She’s had a fear of bees since she was stung a few times as a child.”

“Hmm. Did you tell her about Nick’s deposit total?”

Lionel had asked her if he could check a full day’s receipts, and the amount hadn’t matched the deposit.

He sighed. “Not yet. Or about that double-billing error he tried to blame on Bill. She was already a little annoyed with my questions about him. I told her we have to be thorough.”

“That’s right,” E.L. agreed. “Remember what I said about taking on friends as clients?”

“Yes, but I had to do it, E.L. I can’t let Gus lose this business. Even if it means . . . something no one wants to hear.”

****

Just before lunchtime, Lionel got a to-go order in a paper sack. As soon as Nick left for another meeting, he and E.L. headed for the door.

“I told Gus we had to run a few errands,” Lionel said.

He’d borrowed a car from a friend, hoping Nick wouldn’t recognize it. Although Nick was a fast driver, they finally caught sight of him again at a red light, to Lionel’s relief.

“You really think this bee guy’s a fake vendor?” E.L. asked when the traffic moved forward again.

“Well, the Better Business Bureau has no record of it,” Lionel said. “And Gus said the truck that delivers the honey is unmarked. It could be coming from some other company.”

“Bingo,” E.L. said. Nick’s car was turning left into the post office parking lot.

A few minutes later, Nick returned to his car. This time, he led the way to a branch of Security Pacific.

“Is that the same bank where he takes the night deposits?” E.L. asked.

“No.” Lionel shut off the engine, his heart pounding. “That’s First Federal.”

He got out of the car and walked over to the window, watching as Nick made his way to the front of the line and handed the teller something. A deposit slip and a check, Lionel was willing to bet.

“He probably just wanted to mail a letter, then get some cash for lunch, huh?” E.L. joked later, when Lionel told him what he'd seen.

“Right.”

****

After Nick drove off again, Lionel and E.L. ate their own lunch in the bank’s parking lot.

“Okay, now that we’ve switched from auditors back to detectives,” E.L. said, “I’m thinking about motives. Bill doesn’t seem to have one, besides possible revenge, right? And what about Nick? Does he just want money?”

“Maybe.” Lionel took a bite of pita bread. “But it might be more than that. If he gave up his old job to work for Gus, he must really like the place.”

“And Melina.”

“Who, as the oldest child, stands to inherit the business.”

E.L. looked at him. “Unlike Bill’s wife.”

“I still haven’t met Zoe,” Lionel told him. “She’s never really been interested in the restaurant, that I’m aware of, although she is a shareholder.”

“So if Nick wants to get his hands on the business, why would he try to sabotage it?”

E.L. could almost hear the wheels spinning in Lionel’s mind.

“Remember what I said about people wanting Gus to expand his business?”

“Yeah. You were one of them.”

“Right,” Lionel said. “And Nick was likely another. Maybe he thinks if profits are lower, Gus might be frustrated enough to retire early. Or he’s hoping it’ll force Gus to take action. You know, make changes to boost revenue.”

“Some people won’t take no for an answer,” E.L. commented.

Lionel nodded. “It’s just a theory, though. Like the one about needing money.”

“Well, either way, it has to stop. Which means we need more information.”

A few minutes later, they were back on the road again, headed for the address Melina had given them.

The area was rural, winding uphill along a narrow two-lane street. There were a few signs of local agriculture, but no advertisements about honey for sale.

“Stop!” E.L. said. “Right here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, this is it. 4521.”

“It’s a house,” Lionel observed. A large house, set far back on a large piece of land. The property was bordered by a low gray stone wall. A gate at the front entrance was closed. “Shouldn’t a business have a sign on it?”

“Yeah. I don’t see any delivery trucks, either,” E.L. noted. “Unless there’s one in that barn over there.” He took off his jacket and set it on the passenger seat, then hopped over the wall.

“E.L., what are you doing?” Lionel exclaimed. “That’s private property!”

“We’re investigators, right?” E.L. called back from the other side. “We’ll tell them we’re looking for Nick’s friend . . . what’s his name?”

“Henry.” Lionel climbed over the wall and followed him. “Henry Kostas. But we really shouldn’t be trespassing, E.L. We don’t have a search warrant.”

E.L. stopped and looked around. “Yeah, you’re right. Looks like the only thing buzzing around here is us."

As he turned to leave, an ominous sound got his attention—the deep rumble of distant growling. Then not so distant. Two German shepherds rounded the corner of the house, barking as they charged at them.

“Run, buddy!” E.L. hollered.

He sprinted back in the direction of the car, the dogs barking behind him in hot pursuit. E.L. scrambled over the wall, gasping for breath, before looking back. “Lionel!”

Oh, Lord, what had he done? Where was—

The barking had stopped, E.L. realized. Lionel appeared on top of the wall, unbloodied, clothing intact. E.L. let out a sigh of relief.

“What happened, man?” he exclaimed.

Lionel gestured to the dogs, who were busy munching. “Beef jerky.”

E.L. stared at the dogs in disbelief, then turned back to Lionel. “You’re telling me you just happened to have beef jerky in your pocket?”

Lionel nodded, getting back in the car.

“Why?”

“A little tip I picked up a while back.”

“From where?” E.L. asked, sinking into the passenger seat.

Lionel smiled as he started the engine. “Savage.”

E.L. couldn’t help laughing. “Huh. Maybe I’ve underestimated that guy.” He thought of something else. “But what would you’ve done if we were being chased by bees, instead?”

Lionel shrugged. “Run faster.”

****

After their harrowing escape, the Hobarth Corporation building seemed almost welcoming. The personnel office, however, not so much.

“I’m sorry,” the manager repeated, “employee records are confidential.”

Lionel knew that, of course. He wondered why he’d even bothered to go inside.

"So you know why Nick Thanou quit,” E.L. said, undeterred, “but you can’t tell us.”

“That’s correct,” the woman replied, then answered her phone.

“I should’ve brought my fake badge,” E.L. mumbled as they turned to leave.

Before they got to the door, though, another employee tapped E.L.’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, did you say you’re investigating Nick Thanou?”

Lionel stared at the employee, a guy a bit older than Nick. “Yes, we are, for possible embezzlement. He used to work here.”

“I know.” The man looked around to see if anyone was watching. “It’s down the hall to the left. I’ll show you the way.”

Once they were out of the room, the employee continued, “This is just between us, okay?”

“Of course,” Lionel assured him.

“We don’t even know your name, man,” E.L. added. “You have a problem with Thanou?”

“He tried to frame my brother.”

Lionel and E.L. glanced at each other.

“They worked together,” the man explained. “Nick pulled that same . . . stuff here. When they started to catch on, he blamed my brother; said he must be making mistakes."

“And then he quit because they were closing in?” E.L. asked.

“I don’t know why he quit,” the employee admitted. “But I’m glad he’s gone.”

“He may’ve offered to resign,” Lionel said. “If he agreed to repay what he stole, and it was under a certain amount, they’d keep the matter quiet.”

“How’s your brother doing?” E.L. asked the man.

“Oh, he’s fine. They apologized to him later. He’s still working here.”

“That’s great, man. Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.” The employee returned to the office.

“Well, looks like we picked the right son-in-law,” E.L. commented as they got back in the car. “That was a lucky break back there.”

Lionel nodded.

“For someone who’s close to solving another case, you don’t look too happy about it.”

“I’m not looking forward to telling Gus and Melina,” Lionel explained. “She’s going to be devastated. And with a child due soon . . .”

“Yeah, that’s rough,” E.L. agreed. “But they need to know what’s going on. At least Gus won’t be getting ripped off anymore.”

“I am glad about that.”

“Also on the bright side—Bill and Zoe just might be your new best friends.”

Lionel smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far, E.L.”

****

The phone call with Melina was just as uncomfortable as Lionel had feared. He told her about the meeting they’d arranged with her and Gus for the next afternoon, in his office, but not the reason for the timing—that they hoped Nick would return from his usual prolonged break after they’d disclosed all their evidence. Still, he had a feeling Melina might’ve guessed their intentions.

“So you and E.L. found something?” she asked.

“Yes, we’ve gathered some evidence. We’re still going to visit more vendor sites in the morning, but I think we’re pretty much done.”

“Can’t you give me a hint? That’s a long time to wait.”

Lionel’s heart sank. “I, uh, really think it’s best if we discuss this when we’re all together. The four of us.”

“Wait. You’re not saying it’s Nick, are you? Tell me you’re not saying that.”

“Melina, anyone who had access to the money was a suspect. We had to—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “He wouldn’t do that to me. To us. You must’ve made a mistake.”

Lionel took a deep breath. “Is there a place at your home where Nick keeps important papers?”

“What? Yes, in a locked drawer, but I know where he puts the key. So that makes him a criminal? You think he’s got our money stashed away in there?”

“I’d recommend that you look for anything unusual, like bank statements or checkbooks for a personal account. Possibly Security Pacific."

“That’s not our bank,” Melina argued.

“We saw Nick go into a local branch today, right after he made a stop at the post office.”

“You were following him?”

“Melina, I told you, we have to be thorough in our investigation.”

“So did you follow Bill around, too?” she snapped. “Where did he go yesterday?”

Lionel sighed. “I know this is hard to accept, and we’ll be discussing it in detail with you and Gus tomorrow, but—”

“I thought you were our friend, Lionel.”

“I am,” he insisted. “You wanted us to find out who’s been embezzling. The evidence is pointing to Nick, and . . . we don’t have the authority to search your home, but he may've hidden something there, too.”

Melina was silent for a moment. Seething, perhaps. “Fine. I’ll spy on my husband. Are you happy now?”

Before he could respond, she hung up.

****

The next afternoon, Lionel and E.L. waited in Gus’s office. Melina hadn’t shown up yet.

“She’s coming,” Gus assured them. “She tells me she’s running a little late.”

“That might be my fault,” Lionel admitted. “When I told her about the meeting, she sort of pried the truth out of me, and . . .”

Gus looked at him, reading his unhappy expression. “So it’s Niko, yes?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, Gus. I was really hoping it wasn’t him.”

“I know. We give you guys a hard job, but you did it.” He sighed. “We wait five more minutes, then we start without her.”

When the door opened a few minutes later, Lionel expected to see Melina. But it was Nick who poked his head inside.

“Hey, Gus, do you know where Melina is?” He glanced at Lionel and E.L. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, you are,” Gus said with uncharacteristic coldness. “But you might as well sit down and hear this, too.”

Nick looked surprised. “Is something wrong? Oh, the audit . . . did you guys find something else?” He made his way to an empty chair.

“Yes, they find out something,” Gus told him. “That you are stealing from me.”

Nick went into actor mode, with a fake smile of disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“You see, we aren’t really auditors,” Lionel explained. “We’re private detectives.”

“And you think I’m . . .” Nick was starting to sweat. “I told you, Bill—”

“Yeah, it’s always the other guy, isn’t it?” E.L. cut him off. “Just like that co-worker of yours at Hobarth, right?”

“You mean, he did this over there, too?” Gus asked.

“They were closing in on him,” Lionel told him, “so he quit before he ended up behind bars.”

“That’s not true,” Nick argued. “I left so I could help Gus, to build up this business.”

“By helping yourself to his money?” E.L. asked. “Making up a fake vendor?”

“This is ridiculous.” Nick got up. “You can’t prove any of this.”

Lionel tried to stop him from leaving, but Nick was too fast, slipping out of the office.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lionel asked, following him.

“I have to find Melina,” Nick said. “I have to talk to her before you give her the wrong idea about me.”

Lionel caught him by the arm. “She already knows.”

“What?” Nick exclaimed. “You know what that could do to her, in her condition?”

“You should’ve thought about that before you committed a crime,” E.L. told him.

“It’s over, Nick,” Gus added. “The police are coming.”

Panic, then anger, crossed Nick’s face. He pushed Lionel away from him and ran into the restaurant.

“Stay here, Gus!” Lionel said.

Servers and customers scrambled to get out of the way as Nick darted past them, heading for the front entrance. But E.L. was already there, waiting outside, so he veered toward the kitchen.

“Watch out!” Lionel flinched as a server walked out with a loaded tray.

Crash! The tray went flying. Sauce splattered on Lionel’s shirt while the rest landed on the floor.

“Stop!” he hollered.

Realizing he'd hit another dead end, Nick turned around, looking desperate.

"I have a black belt in karate," Lionel warned him.

Nick swung at him anyway. Lionel blocked his fist with his left hand, then launched a counterattack with his right. “Kiai!”

“They never listen to you, do they, buddy?” E.L. commented, helping him haul Nick off the floor.

****

The police were at the office when they returned. But an even more intimidating sight awaited them: a furious Melina.

“How could you?” Her voice sent a chill down Lionel’s spine. She held up some folded papers.

Nick froze. "What's that?"

“Bank statements. From an account I didn’t know about. And some company checks. You took them that day I was out with morning sickness, didn’t you? You told me the checks were out of sequence because of a bank error.”

“Melina, I—”

“You know what’s even worse?” she continued. “That big deposit you made right after our spring fundraiser. The one you ‘volunteered’ to collect donations for. You only turned in half of it.” She gave the papers to Gus. “Stealing from the needy! What is wrong with you?”

“Mel, honey, I can explain,” Nick pleaded.

“Better make it quick,” E.L. told him, nodding at the police.

“This business is going to be yours someday—if it’s still around by then. I told Gus this place could be a goldmine if he'd just expand it into a real restaurant; maybe add some new locations, or at least think about franchising. I had lots of good ideas, but he wouldn’t listen to me. You know how stubborn he is."

“So you were trying to punish him for it?” she demanded.

“No, no!” Nick said. “Don’t you see? I did it for us. I was putting some money aside, to make sure you’ll get your fair share. Then we can use it to develop this business and—”

“Are you insane?” Melina stared at him, incredulous. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“It’s my restaurant, Nikolas,” Gus added. “Not yours. It will never be yours.”

After the police had led Nick outside, Lionel tried to talk to Melina. But before he could reach her, she turned away.

“Excuse me,” she said, heading for the restroom.

“Don’t worry,” Gus told him. “She’s upset, but not with you. She found those papers in the desk, like you said.” He looked at Lionel’s shirt. “Sorry for the mess. What is it?”

Lionel wiped some of the white sauce off his shirt and tasted it. “Tzatziki,” he said. “You haven’t tried this yet, E.L.”

“I’ll wait till it’s on a plate, thanks,” E.L. said, joking.

****

Back at his own office later, Lionel tried to unwind at his desk, with a Savage novel and some light jazz. E.L. lounged on the couch, looking at a magazine while he finished the last slice of a pizza they’d had delivered.

Lionel put his book down. Even Savage couldn’t take his mind off the events of the day. Sometimes turning in evidence wasn’t so satisfying after all. “I should probably just go home now.”

“Yeah, me too,” E.L. agreed.

Neither of them moved, however, until someone knocked on the open door.

“Hi, guys,” a familiar voice said.

“Melina.” Surprised, Lionel went over to greet her. “Please, come in.”

“Would you like something to drink?” E.L. offered.

“No, thank you.” She looked around. “So this is your office, huh?”

“Uh, yes,” Lionel said, a bit self-conscious. “I know it’s a little small.”

“I like it. It’s cozy. And you know I’m no stranger to small workplaces.”

Lionel smiled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m still so angry, and confused. I was on my way to my parents’ house. They didn’t think I should be by myself tonight.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Lionel pulled a chair over for her, then sat on the edge of his desk. “You really should be taking it easy.”

“I will, but first I had to tell you I’m sorry. About what I said to you on the phone.”

“That’s all right,” he said. “You had a valid reason to be upset.”

“I just didn’t want to believe Nick was guilty,” Melina explained, rubbing her stomach. “Or that I was too gullible to see what was happening. After the divorce, I swore I’d be more careful about who I dated, but . . .”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, now,” E.L. told her. “That’s what con men do, you know? They use their charm to win your confidence. That’s their game.”

“And E.L. should know,” Lionel added.

Melina looked at E.L. “Oh, really?”

“Well, you know . . .” He shrugged. “It’s not like I got away with it.”

“So that’s why you two make such a good team,” Melina said. “Opposites, right?”

Lionel nodded. “You should’ve seen us when we first met.”

“Yeah, he wanted to kill me,” E.L. told her. “Not that I can blame him.”

Melina laughed. “Wow, that must be some story. With a happy ending, I hope.”

"Well, we’re still here,” Lionel said. “And E.L. is using his powers for good, mostly, these days, so . . . ” He stood up. “Your parents must be worrying about you. We can talk more later, if you'd like. If you need advice or anything."

“Thanks, Lionel. I hope you’ll come back to the restaurant sometime. Pop’s finally thinking about making some changes.”

“He is?” he exclaimed. “But he told Nick—”

“He said he hadn’t thought about it being his legacy.” Melina started walking to the door. “I don’t think he liked being called stubborn, either, even though he is.” She was about to say something else, but inhaled sharply instead, clutching her stomach.

“What’s the matter?” Lionel asked. “Are you all right?”

She looked down, taking deep breaths. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no?” E.L. repeated. “Oh, no, what?”

“The baby. I think it’s coming.”

“Now?”

“I’m sorry,” Melina gasped. “I’ve been having contractions, but they were far apart. When I had David, they actually sent me back home. Said I wasn’t ready.”

“But Nick said you weren’t due for a few more weeks,” E.L. protested.

“I don’t think the baby knows that,” Lionel told him. “All right, uh, not to worry. I can give you a ride to the hospital. Well, no, maybe I'd better call a cab. It'd be easier for you to get in and out."

Melina grabbed his arm. “Lionel, it’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can make it outside. I need to lie down.”

“Here?” E.L. exclaimed. He turned to Lionel. “See? What did I tell you about pregnant women?"

"What? We’re not in an elevator,” Lionel argued.

“We might as well be!”

Melina groaned, doubling over, and Lionel hurried to get some towels. He spread one out on the couch for her to lie on, then rushed over to the sink to wash his hands.

On the way back, he almost collided with E.L., who stood frozen. “E.L., we can use a little help here!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance,” Lionel said, exasperated.

“Oh, yeah. I can do that.” E.L. went to his desk.

“I’m sorry, Lionel,” Melina said. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.” Lionel draped his trench coat over her, then took a deep breath. “You know, you and E.L.’s mother have something in common.”

“Really?” she asked, panting. “What?”

“He was born in a taxi. That’s how he got his name—Early Leroy.”

Melina laughed. “I was wondering what E.L. stood for. Your poor mother.”

“Yeah,” E.L. said. “I don’t know why I was in such a big hurry.”

“You haven’t slowed down since,” Lionel told him. “Did you get the dispatcher?”

“She says the ambulance is on the way. She’s going to talk you through this.”

“Good.”

E.L. listened to the dispatcher. “She wants to know if you can see the baby’s head.”

Lionel peered under the trench coat. “I think so. It’s not out yet, though.”

“All right . . . Don’t push, then. Just keep panting till the head, uh . . . ”

“Crowns,” Melina gasped. “That’s what it’s called.”

“That’s right, you’ve been through this before,” Lionel remembered. Twelve years ago, but it wasn't something you'd likely ever forget.

Melina started hollering, then groaning.

“Oh, no . . .” Lionel said. “E.L., it’s happening!”

“What? Is the head out?”

“Yes, yes! Now what?”

“Check the cord,” E.L. told him. “Is it wrapped around the baby’s neck?”

Lionel felt for it. “Uh, no.”

“Okay, good. You might have to help it out a little bit, gently. Once the shoulders are free, the rest should slide out.”

Lionel could hardly believe it. A tiny person was emerging, little by little, right into his hands.

“Keep pushing!” he urged Melina. “You’re doing great. Just a little more.”

And then he had it, dark-haired and slippery, already crying without assistance. He wrapped the baby in a towel, then placed it—her—on Melina.

“You have a daughter now,” he said, smiling. “A beautiful daughter.”

“It’s a girl!” E.L. told the dispatcher. “And wouldn’t you know it, now the paramedics are here." He put his hand over the phone. "She says congratulations, and good job.”

“Thanks, guys.” Melina looked weary, but happy. “I’m sorry, but I have to say it—this agency really does deliver.”

****

E.L. stood beside Lionel at the hospital’s nursery window, scanning the rows of newborns while they waited for Gus and his wife to return. There she was: Baby Girl Thanou, looking a lot cuter now that she was all cleaned up, wearing a little pink hat.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more personally involved,” E.L. remarked, shaking his head. “They’re gonna have to make you an honorary family member now.”

Lionel smiled. “And all because I had a craving for some Greek food. I guess sometimes things do happen for a reason.”

Gus and his wife, Connie, walked over to them.

“How’s Melina?” Lionel asked.

“She’s fine,” Gus said. “A little embarrassed, but fine. And the baby is healthy.” He looked at his newest grandchild, who was sleeping peacefully. “Ah, there’s our little speedster. You couldn’t wait till your mama got here, eh?”

“Yeah, it was pretty wild,” E.L. admitted, “but I’m glad everything turned out okay.”

“We’re very grateful,” Connie agreed.

“Melina, too,” Gus added. “She wants you to know what she named her little princess.”

“She told me she was naming her after her grandmother,” Lionel recalled.

“Yes, Sophia.”

“Pretty name,” E.L. said. Much better than Persephone, he thought.

“Sophia Whitney Thanou,” Gus continued.

“Really?” Lionel looked stunned. “She’s giving her my name, too?”

He nodded, smiling. “Someday her papou will tell her about the man who helped bring her into this world." He paused. "And got her daddy arrested, too—on her birthday.”

E.L. couldn’t help laughing as the look on Lionel’s face changed to embarrassment. Then Gus laughed, too, slapping Lionel on the back.

“Just kidding!” he reassured him. “Hey, we want you guys to be our guests at the baptism, at the Orthodox church. There will be a reception at the restaurant after, of course. Lots of good food."