Tracy Hayes, Unstoppable P.I. (P.I. Tracy Hayes 9)

By Susanna Shore

Justice is blind. Tracy isn’t.

"If I had a bucket list, jury duty wouldn’t be on it. Luckily, I had a way out—but I might regret taking it."

Jury duty isn’t exactly at the top of Tracy’s bucket list—not that she has one. But then she’s offered an unexpected out: her brother Travis asks her to work for the defense instead. He wants her to prove that his client is innocent.

Easier said than done when everyone and their aunt knows the accused is guilty.

But the case that looked straightforward turns out to be anything but. Could it be that the man everyone is convinced killed his wife is innocent after all? Tracy and Jackson will need all their ingenuity to uncover the truth.

And that’s not even the most difficult task on Tracy’s list. Her sister’s wedding is approaching, and their mother wants Tracy’s help planning it. To top it all, she’s promised to help Jonny Moreira escape mafia.

A lesser woman might find things overwhelming, but luckily Tracy is unstoppable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanna Shore
• Release date: Nov 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9789527061497

Susanna Shore

Susanna Shore is a historian turned author. She writes Two-Natured London paranormal romance series, P.I. Tracy Hayes mysteries, The Reed Files crime capers, and House of Magic paranormal cozies, as well as stand-alone thrillers and contemporary romances.

Book preview

Tracy Hayes, Unstoppable P.I.

P.I. Tracy Hayes 9

Susanna Shore

Tracy Hayes, Unstoppable P.I.

Copyright © 2021 A. K. S. Keinänen

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations or persons, living or dead, except those in public domain, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Crimson House Books at Smashwords.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover © 2021 A. K. S. Keinänen

Editing: Lee Burton, Ocean’s Edge Editing

www.susannashore.com

Twitter: @SusannaShore

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P.I. Tracy Hayes Series

Tracy Hayes, Apprentice P.I.

Tracy Hayes, P.I. and Proud

Tracy Hayes, P.I. to the Rescue

Tracy Hayes, P.I. with the Eye

Tracy Hayes, from P.I. with Love

Tracy Hayes, Tenacious P.I.

Tracy Hayes, Valentine of a P.I.

Tracy Hayes, P.I. on the Scent

Tracy Hayes, Unstoppable P.I.

Two-Natured London Series

The Wolf’s Call

Warrior’s Heart

A Wolf of Her Own

Her Warrior for Eternity

A Warrior for a Wolf

Magic under the Witching Moon

Moonlight, Magic and Mistletoes

Crimson Warrior

Magic on the Highland Moor

Wolf Moon

House of Magic

Hexing the Ex

Saved by the Spell

Thrillers

Personal

The Assassin

Contemporary Romances

At Her Boss’s Command

It Happened on a Lie

To Catch a Billionaire Dragon

Which Way to Love?

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Epilogue

About the Author

Excerpt from Hexing the Ex

Also in P.I. Tracy Hayes Series

Chapter One

I didn’t have a bucket list. I didn’t believe that my life would be complete if I climbed Mount Everest or saw a sunset in Antarctica. That’s what internet was for.

I did, however, had a list of things I didn’t want to experience.

At the top was contracting a horrible disease. One of those rare ones they did heart-wrenching documentaries of. Close second was anything that causes physical pain. I didn’t want to break my bones, and the fear of dentist kept me flossing regularly.

Then again … I’d hurt myself often since starting as an apprentice P.I. for Jackson Dean Investigations. I’d been shot even. Perhaps I was tougher than I believed.

Or more foolish.

The list evolved constantly. Divorce was on it once, but I’d gone through one and survived. And since I wasn’t married to my boyfriend, Jackson Dean—all around hot guy and my boss—there was no reason to put it back on the list.

One annoying but survivable item on my do-not-do list was jury duty. Imagine my dismay, then, when I was summoned to appear at the Kings County Criminal Court on the second week of April.

I’m not going, I said to Jackson.

He glanced at the contents of the letter and gave me a pointed look. It’s your civic duty, you know.

Trust him to take that approach.

It’s boring, that’s what it is.

A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He had a sexy mouth, and I temporarily forgot what we were talking about.

He had that effect on me no matter what his expression was. He was thirty-five, close to six feet tall, with long legs, a trim body, chocolate eyes, dark, neatly cut hair (for a change), and a clean-lined face that could look unmemorable when he wanted to—handy for a private investigator.

I was immune to the do-not-notice effect and always found him handsome and sexy, especially when his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, like now.

It doesn’t have to be boring. Maybe you’ll get a high-profile case.

That sounded only marginally better. But then I’ll be stuck with it for weeks. I can’t do that. What about my work? We’re swamped.

We’d had a high-profile diamond theft case a couple of months ago, which had brought us more clients than we were able to handle. But Jackson shrugged.

I’m sure I could manage.

Thanks, I said dryly. It’s nice to know I’m invaluable.

He laughed and pulled me into a one-handed hug. Just go. It’ll be educational to see that side of the justice process.

I guess…

Thus, early Monday morning next week, I found myself stepping through the tall iron gates into the portico of the Central Court Building in Downtown Brooklyn. Reluctantly, I might add.

Jackson’s smile when he kissed me goodbye had been amused. Do me proud, he’d said in parting. I’d barely refrained from flipping him the bird.

I’d been to the criminal court a couple of times since starting at Jackson Dean Investigations. As a witness, not as a defendant. I found this occasion less intimidating. Only a mild anticipation fluttered in my stomach as I reached for the heavy door and pulled it open.

A din of voices hit me, followed by the heat and smells of a couple of hundred people. I halted at the doorway, only to be pushed in by the person entering behind me with an angry glare.

The large entrance hall was filled with people of all ages, shapes, and sizes, standing shoulder to shoulder. I eyed them in dismay. It would take the whole week for the court to process us all.

Then again … it would improve my odds for not being selected. My step was considerably lighter as I walked deeper into the hall.

Deeper was relative though. If I didn’t want to use my elbows—which, as a New Yorker, I was perfectly capable of doing—I would have to stay at the edges.

I preferred it there. The more people they processed before me, the better the chances were that I wouldn’t have to enter the courtroom.

I weaved through the crowd to the side wall farthest from the courtroom doors. Others had had the same idea, but I wedged myself between a grandmotherly Chinese woman with gray hair in a tight perm, and a freckled man about my age in baggy jeans and a Star Trek T-shirt.

I was dressed in jeans too, but mine were more form-hugging. I had a nice form for them to hug, if a tad too much of it. My blouse was black and professional looking, but I’d left the top buttons open for a peek into my cleavage.

Dressing sexy wouldn’t get me out of this, but it wouldn’t hurt to look my best, right?

My hair was in a pixie cut—it had finally grown long enough after having been burnt at the back—and it was currently honey blond. I found it bland after experimenting with brighter colors, but it was professional looking.

First time? the old lady asked me, her black eyes bright with curiosity. I can always tell. I’ve been here often these past fifty years.

I’ve sat in a jury once a year, sometimes more often, since I was old enough, said Star Trek proudly, as if the question had been directed to him. I come even if I’m not summoned. There’s always a chance they need me.

I stifled a shudder. The old lady nodded, impressed.

I’m Lin.

Tracy.

I’m Josh, the eager young man said.

What do you think it’ll be this time? Lin asked. Last time I got to do a Ponzi scheme guy, but it was boring, all that economic stuff. We convicted him in the end though.

Josh perked. I remember that. I wanted in on it. I love numbers.

I hated numbers, so I was with Lin on this one.

I want a really juicy murder. Lin’s eyes shone with unholy gleam. Maybe it’s a serial killer.

I don’t recall there being serial killers around here recently, I managed to get a word in. Working as a private investigator had made me pay attention to murder cases.

Lin brushed my words aside: It could be an older case. Sometimes they take years to investigate properly.

I didn’t want to sit through weeks of gruesome descriptions of murders, but I’d take it over economic crime any day.

I recently apprehended an accountant stealing from his clients. If it’s him, I won’t have to do this. I couldn’t very well sit convicting someone I’d brought in myself. It had been a skip-trace, not an investigation, but still.

Josh’s orange brows shot up. You’re a cop? They don’t usually have to do this anyway.

Private investigator.

Pride made my chest swell, the sensation as heady as when I first started working for Jackson eight months ago. After years of waitressing, I finally felt like I belonged, like I was making a difference in the world.

Ah. Josh was clearly disappointed, but Lin’s eyes lit.

Any murder cases?

This time I couldn’t stifle the shudder. Quite a few, actually. We’d worked on one only a couple of weeks ago to prove that Cheryl Walker, our secretary, was innocent of the crime she’d been accused of.

I thought you guys only follow cheating spouses and such, Josh said, disparaging, but I shrugged, not offended.

There’s a lot of that too. A lot.

People began to mill at the other end of the hall by the doors to the largest courtroom. A group of people entered. I surmised they were the lawyers, even though I could only see the tops of their heads.

If you’re so keen on attending, why aren’t you on that side of the room? I asked curiously.

Lin made a dismissive gesture. They never choose the first fifty or so people. No point in rushing in.

Unless you wanted to avoid jury duty…

Some clearly knew that, because they were eagerly forming a line to make sure they would be among the first in. I should have been one of them.

Just follow my lead and I can guarantee you’ll be selected, Lin assured me, not realizing my reluctance.

I eyed the crowd, wondering if I could still make it to the door, but the wall of backs was impenetrable. Resigning to my fate, I relaxed against the wall.

So … what are the chances that it’s a murder case? I asked, mostly to pass time.

Josh leaned closer. I’m hoping for the Fry case.

It said a lot about my life that I didn’t immediately recall the most high-profile murder case in Brooklyn. Murders were becoming a bit too commonplace for me.

We all know how that would turn out, I said dryly.

Last November, Ralph Fry, a hedge-fund manager for the ultra-wealthy, had been found next to the blood-covered body of his wife, Allison, who had been brutally stabbed several times. She had filed for divorce only days earlier—a divorce in which he would have lost most of his wealth. They had a prenup stating it would happen if either one cheated on the other. Which he had.

As far as the press, and most of Brooklyn, was concerned, he was guilty as charged. No need for a trial.

I bet he has top-notch lawyers who’ll challenge everything, making things interesting, Lin said enthusiastically. I wouldn’t mind attending that one.

Just remember when they ask, that you know nothing about the case, Josh instructed me.

I instantly decided to declare that I was the expert on it. I would not spend weeks listening to immoral defense lawyers twisting every word of the prosecution, hoping to get their client out on a technicality.

After about an hour, during which I’d got Lin’s life story without contributing anything to the conversation and almost got into a fight with Josh over Star Trek—about the new films which I preferred and he loathed—the crowd began to mill again, to make room for the first batch to exit the courtroom. Lin had clearly been waiting for that. She took a firm hold of my wrist and began to pull me through the gap that opened in the middle of the hall.

Our turn.

I didn’t dare resist as she dragged me all the way to the open double doors, Josh at my heels. She timed our arrival perfectly, and we were admitted with the next fifty people.

I might get out of here before lunch.

Please, form a line on the center aisle, the usher informed us in a loud voice once the doors had closed behind us. Lin pulled me forward and I found myself near the head of the queue, with maybe ten people before me.

One by one, the people in line were called to stand in front of the lawyers of both teams, defense on the left, prosecution on the right. I could see only the backs of their heads, but it revealed that both teams had only men. Maybe they’d sent in B-teams to handle the jury selection.

People were asked fairly personal questions, about domestic violence among other things, but were then discarded by one or both teams rather arbitrarily in my view. I’d never experienced domestic violence, and since I couldn’t convincingly lie that I had, I couldn’t count on that getting me out.

The line advanced in a brisk pace and I reached the desks of the lawyers. I glanced at the prosecutors and my brows shot up. This wasn’t the B-team.

The man closest to me, leaning back on his chair, arms crossed over a large belly as he listened to a candidate’s answers, was Cézar da Ponte, the district attorney for Kings County.

This might be an interesting case after all. Something to do with organized crime perhaps. The man was known for his fight against it.

More curious now, I turned to the defense team—and my knees buckled in surprise. Sitting closest to me, was my brother Travis.

Chapter Two

What the hell?

My hissed exclamation, silent though it had been, made Travis turn my way. His deep blue eyes grew large in surprise before a slow grin spread across his handsome face, full of schadenfreude like only a brother’s can be.

Travis was my oldest sibling by eight years, and the most successful of the four of us. Well, he and Theresa, the second eldest, tied for it; she was a doctor.

He was thirty-five—thirty-six this week, which reminded me I needed to get him a present—tall and athletic like during his varsity days despite years in a hectic job that didn’t leave much time for exercising. He had the dark Irish coloring of our father as well as his good looks, and charm enough to go to places. In his well-fitting, expensive suit, he looked perfect.

We didn’t look anything alike.

He worked for Brooklyn Defender Services, representing those who couldn’t afford to pay for a lawyer, which made him a good guy in my books. I couldn’t fathom what sort of a case would gain the attention of the DA and merit free defense.

But I had a way out of this ordeal now.

They got you too? he said in a low voice as the prosecution questioned the prospective juror, his blue eyes twinkling.

Get me out of this, I hissed at him.

He cocked a dark brow. What’s in it for me?

Can’t you do it because you’re a great brother and you love me?

But his grin only deepened. Before he could answer, the person being questioned was discarded and he had to turn his attention to the next one