Rebel Without A Clue

by Carolyn Scott

  "I hear you quit," she said, deigning to speak to me but not help me up.

  I blinked at her like an animal caught in headlights. If she knew that, then Tanya must have seen Will since Friday morning. Strange he never mentioned it, although I suppose it was none of my business what he did. Still, it would have been nice to be informed so I didn't look like an idiot in front of his ex.

  "Actually, Will fired me," I said, taking Gina's offered hand and standing. "But he's reinstated me."

  "Really? He didn't mention it last night." She shook her head slightly. "I find that very hard to believe."

  "Last night?"

  "Yes, we had dinner. A late dinner." The emphasis didn't leave any room for misunderstanding.

  And he'd said he'd been working! The bastard!

  Tanya strode off before either Gina or I could get our tongues to work.

  "B-but…" Gina managed.

  "I know," I said flatly. "Let's get out of here before I run after her and tell her about Will and me."

  With my shopping bags piled into the trunk of the Civic, we took off, tires squealing their protest at my lead foot.

  "Slow down!" Gina yelled.

  "Sorry, she just gets to me."

  "Sure it's not Will you're mad at?"

  I didn't answer.

  "So why didn't you tell her about last night?" she persisted. "It's not like you to back down from a confrontation."

  "I needed time to digest what she said."

  What had started out as a good day had suddenly turned into a crappy one. As Scarlett O'Hara said, tomorrow is another day. And it had the potential to be worse in so many ways.

  Just when I thought my day had hit rock bottom, we stopped at a red light and a car pulled up beside us. I casually glanced over and spotted someone that made my skin crawl.

  It wasn't Tanya.

  Chapter 9

  Barry Grimes sat in profile in the driver's seat of a rusty, burnt orange Ford pickup. He looked straight ahead at the road but I sank into my seat anyway in case he glanced over.

  "What are you doing?" Gina asked, looking at me like I'd gone nuts.

  The lights turned green and Barry Grimes accelerated. I stayed a safe distance behind and sat up straight again. "That man is a suspect in Lou Scarletti's murder."

  "The police told you that much?"

  "Not exactly."

  "So how do you know he's a suspect?"

  "I'm guessing. My gut instinct says he can't be trusted." The pickup turned right. So did I.

  "You're following him?"

  I nodded, completely focused on the rear lights of the pickup. Cars buzzed around us like annoying flies, but I barely noticed them. Gina said nothing until we stopped at a set of lights again. We were two cars back on a main street somewhere north of where we'd started. I vaguely knew the area but couldn't name the street and probably wouldn't be able to find my way home again.

  "So, apart from intuition, what makes you think he's a suspect?"

  I couldn't blame her for being skeptical. I would be too. People who followed their instincts usually ended up with the wrong guy, in the wrong job or buying the wrong shoes. I prefer good, solid, no bullshit, logic.

  Funny, I never realized that before.

  "I think he's a suspect because he gave Lou a job in his shop when there's barely enough sales to keep afloat which says to me he wanted to keep him close. And I know he's untrustworthy because he attacked me."

  She spun in her seat to look at me. "He did what! When? Why didn't you tell me?"

  "This is why. I didn't want to freak you out." I glanced at her. "And close your mouth. You look like a blow-up sex doll."

  "Cat, be serious. Tell me what happened."

  I told her about my interview with Grimes, not leaving out any of the gory details. My gut churned as I recalled his hot, slippery hands groping me.

  "Cat, you should call the police. He doesn't sound like someone you want to mess with."

  I said nothing. The pickup turned down a couple of narrow side streets. I concentrated on staying far enough behind that I wouldn't be seen but close enough not to lose him.

  "Cat!"

  Sheesh. "If I go to the police, I'll look like I can't handle myself. That's not the image I want to portray in my new job as assistant P.I. And Will would find out and he'd make me stop working this case."

  "Maybe you should."

  "Nuh-uh. No way. I need to do this."

  "Why?"

  I sighed. "Dad put Scarletti away when he was a cop but he never really finished with the case. For some reason, he couldn't let it go, Mom said. I want to find out why." I needed to. Not for Dad—I wasn't that noble—but for me. For my self-respect. To prove to him and the world that I wasn't hopeless.

  Phew, as epiphanies go, that was a biggie. But it felt good to get it off my chest, put it out there in the open where I couldn't back away from it.

  Gina made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. "Cat, you're so goddamn stubborn."

  "Language, Gina."

  "Sorry. Fucking stubborn. Better?"

  "Now that's more like the Gina I know."

  The pickup turned into a street I recognized, Dyson Street. I'd been down it only a few nights earlier. The Grotto was on the left. Dyson Street was lined with cheap clothing and bric-a-brac stores that had seen better days. The sort that kept the Closing Down Sale sign up all year round.

  The Grotto looked different during the day. Not so scary, just dirty. The windows needed washing and strips of faded gray-green paint peeled off revealing the red brick underneath.

  Grimes drove into the near-empty parking lot. I parked down the road behind a white van and watched.

  "Do you think he set fire to your apartment?" Gina asked.

  "Possibly."

  "But why? To get the jewelry box?" She shook her head. "No, that can't be right. He would've just broken in and taken it. He could overpower you easily enough."

  "Gee, thanks. And I'll have you know I tackled Will to the ground last night."

  "Yeah, but that was kinky."

  I didn't bother to set her straight because she probably wouldn't believe me. But her point had been bugging me ever since the fire. If someone was after the box and its contents, why would they set my apartment alight then run? Why not try to steal it first?

  I didn't get a chance to talk it through with her because Grimes had approached the door to The Grotto. I opened the car door but Gina grabbed my arm and held me back.

  "Are you insane?" she said. "What are you doing?"

  "Following him."

  "Why?"

  I shrugged. "See if he meets with the same characters Lou knows. Barry Grimes wasn't here the other night but he's familiar enough with the bar to be here during the day."

  She didn't look convinced. "Cat, we are not going in there. That man's dangerous."

  "You're right. We aren't, I am." The horror on her face made me hesitate. "Don't worry. It's broad daylight. What could happen? Anyway, I'm not going to talk to him. I'll just watch through the window."

  "And if he sees you? Cat, think about it. He's attacked you once. He could do it again. And this time he's got a friend." She nodded toward the front door of The Grotto where Grimes had stopped to talk to a tall man dressed in army khakis. Mad Max. Curiouser and curiouser.

  "I didn't know they knew each other," I said.

  "Who is he?"

  "A jail buddy of Lou's. Okay, now I've really got to find out what's going on."

  "Cat—"

  I took her hand. "If I don't do this now, Gina, I'll never be able to go through with being a P.I. I'm shit scared, but you know what they say about facing your fear."

  She frowned. "Sometimes fear is a healthy emotion, especially if it stops you from getting raped, or worse. Maybe you shouldn't face it but embrace it and get out of here."

  Max and Grimes went inside. I got out of the car. "I'll be back soon."

  "No way am I letting you go
in there alone."

  "No, you stay here. I might need someone to call for help if I don't come back." Gina was way too paranoid to be of any use to me. The best option was to keep her safe in the car and out of my way.

  She sighed heavily. "I'll give you fifteen minutes. Get my number on your cell phone and keep your thumb over the call button. If something goes wrong, let it ring once, hang up and I'll call the cops."

  Oh, yeah, paranoia city. I nodded, did as she said because she wouldn't let me go until I'd shown her the number on my screen, then pulled the baseball cap I'd found in the back seat low over my eyes.

  I crossed the road and approached The Grotto's side window. Thick bushes grew beneath it, providing good cover. I stepped through the overgrown garden bed but the soggy soil swallowed my dainty heels and I lost my balance. Flapping my arms like a flightless bird, I reached for the nearest bush.

  Aagh! It was covered in thorns. I let go and toppled over, landing in the muddiest patch, of course.

  Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

  My clothes—Gina's clothes—were ruined, not to mention my hand was scratched and bleeding and my right shoe had been swallowed by the mud.

  On the up side, I was well covered by the bushes and right underneath the window. I peeked through. Grimes and Max sat at the bar, nursing drinks. Sunday afternoon must be The Grotto's slow time. The only other occupants were the bartender and two male drinkers who looked as gray and worn out as the furniture. They stared into their beers as if God himself could be found there.

  I watched for fifteen minutes while Grimes and Max exchanged conversation and furtive glances. Not friends then, but uneasy allies.

  Gina would be getting worried so I extricated my shoe and took the other one off, then stood to leave. It felt like a couple of thorns were still stuck under the flesh in my palm. It stung like crazy. I inspected it as I walked which was probably why I didn't notice the door opening as I rounded the corner.

  "You!" Grimes snatched the cap off my head. I quickly smoothed my hair down in a reflex action. Surprise registered on Grimes' leathery features, quickly followed by amusement. "Can't get enough of me, eh?"

  "Hey, I know you," Max said. "Yep, yep, yep." He nodded vigorously. "You're that s-stripper. Nice ass. Yep, n-nice ass."

  "She's no stripper," Grimes said, no longer finding my presence funny. "She's a cop."

  "I'm not a cop." But I am outa here. "Sorry, can't stay. My friend's waiting for me in the car."

  Max grabbed the back of my top as I turned, and for a horrible moment, I dangled like a puppet unable to move. "M-mud wrestling," he said as if he hadn't heard Grimes. "M-m-makes your skirt stick to your ass. N-nice ass. Yep, yep."

  "Let go!" I swatted at him but he kept me at arm's length, laughing. "If you don't let me go, my friend will be over here in a flash. And you don't want to mess with him. He's ex-army, has a black belt in—"

  "She's hot." Grimes licked his lips as Gina toddled over on her heels, cell phone in one hand, no doubt with her thumb poised to dial 9-1-1.

  "Is sh-sh-she a stripper?" asked Max, staring at Gina's bouncing chest. "M-m-mud wrestler?"

  His grip loosened and I smacked his hand away with the shoes I was holding. The heel of one connected with his cheek and he cried out, clutching his face.

  "Run!" I shouted.

  Gina was closer to the car than me but I had bare feet and my boobs didn't smack me in the chin so I got there first. I started the Civic and we were half way down the road when I gathered enough courage to look back.

  Mad Max touched his cheek gingerly as if checking to see if it was broken. Grimes was nowhere to be seen. His car had already left the parking lot. For the next three suburbs, I checked my mirrors but no one seemed to be following us.

  When we got back to Gina's, I let out a pent up breath. "Christ, that was scary."

  Gina glared at me, arms crossed. "Oh, you think?"

  "Gina—"

  "Cat, those men are dangerous. One or both of them could be murderers." She shook her head. "I've decided. You can't do this."

  "What?"

  "Investigate them. Be a P.I. or whatever. Stick to being a secretary. It's easier and safer."

  My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I couldn't believe what my best friend was saying. So much for moral support. "I don't want easy. I hate easy. It's boring and driving me nuts."

  "But it's safer." She held up her hands to stop me. "Before you rant and rave, I'm just thinking of you. I mean, who wouldn't be concerned about their best friend dying?"

  "I don't have a terminal illness."

  She humphed and got out of the car. No matter how much I tried to get her to see my point, she refused to speak about it further. In the end, I gave up and went to Mom's after a quick shower. At least she didn't know the full story so the visit would be lecture-free.

  Or so I thought. I was confronted with more arm-crossing at her front door.

  "The police called," she said through tight lips. "They want to talk to you about the fire at your place."

  "Oh, yeah, thanks. Can I use your phone to call them back?"

  The glare she gave me could have sliced through metal. "Talk to me. Now."

  I told her I'd left the iron on and I'd be more careful next time.

  She eyed me suspiciously. "I didn't think you were that ditzy."

  Uh-oh, game over. "Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise you won't get mad or try and talk me out of what I'm doing."

  "What are you doing?" Nice deflection from making the promise, Mom.

  I told her how I'd been spurred on to find Roberta's jewelry because I wanted to become a P.I. and because of Dad's hunch about Scarletti. I even told her about my earlier epiphany. I figured mothers like to hear that their children have found answers without paying for therapy.

  "Your dad would be surprised," was all she said.

  "That I want to be a P.I. like him? Yeah. I guess. He thought I was a loser."

  "No, he didn't. Cat." She took my hands in hers and made me look at her. "Your father did not think you were a loser. Headstrong, independent, stubborn, frustrating—"

  "Okay, I get the picture."

  "But not hopeless. Never that. He just didn't know how to handle you, so he tried to control you. And that pushed you away. A long way away." She pulled me closer, hugging me. "He'd be so proud you want to be a P.I. But," she looked me in the eye, "he'd be petrified knowing you were dealing with dangerous people."

  "I have to do this, Mom. You know why. You get it, don't you?"

  She nodded. "I do. And I'm not your father so I won't try to talk you out of it. Besides, you've got Will to back you up and I know he wouldn't let anything happen to you."

  Maybe it wasn't the best time to tell her Will didn't know.

  "Just be careful," she said.

  "Thanks Mom. For thinking I can do this."

  We hugged again then she left me alone so I could call the arson squad. I answered their routine questions and hung up, glad it was over and that Mom knew everything. In a way, it surprised me that she was okay with me continuing. Even encouraged me. Especially when she admitted Dad wouldn't be happy with my involvement with Scarletti. Once upon a time she would have agreed with him. Her opinions had been suppressed for years by Dad's over-bearing ones, so it was good to see her finally making up her own mind.

  She entered the kitchen with a spring in her step holding a bunch of green leaves that looked like weeds which she put in a pot on the stove. "So, tell me about this man of yours," she said.

  Damn, she'd caught me unprepared. I was too busy thinking about the fire, Grimes and Mad Max to have any room left over for sex and Will.

  "It's too soon in the relationship to talk about him," I said. "I don't want to jinx it."

  She looked disappointed but she didn't push me. It seemed I'd successfully maneuvered myself out of more wedding talk.

  We ate dinner, played a few rounds of poker then I returned to Gina's. She sat on the sofa reading a
thin romance novel and smiled when I came in.

  "Let's talk more about our men," she said, putting the book down.

  I grinned, relieved she didn't want to discuss the afternoon's escapades or my job. "I'll get the bottle of wine. You get the glasses. If we're going to do this, let's do it properly." Alcohol has a way of extracting all the juicy details. I don't know why the CIA doesn't use it.

  I woke up the next morning in a tin boat in the middle of the ocean. At least that's what it felt like. My stomach rose and fell, and the light dangling from the ceiling swayed above me. Even my body rocked back and forth.

  Gina's face came into focus. "Wake up, Cat." She shook my shoulder.

  "What time is it?" I rubbed my eyes in the hope that the room would stop swimming.

  "Seven-thirty."

  "In the morning?"

  She flung open the curtains. "Come on, time to get up if you want to be at work on time."

  "I don't start until nine. That's a whole…" I tried to work it out but thinking only made my head hurt more.

  "Hour and a half away," she finished. "Yes, but it takes you forever to get ready."

  I grunted and pulled the blanket over my eyes.

  I must have fallen back to sleep because the next time I saw Gina she was dressed and made up.

  "I can't wait for you, Cat. You'll have to drive yourself in."

  "What time is it?"

  "Eight-twenty."

  I swore and sprang off the couch, still dressed in the previous day's clothes. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

  I had my back to her but I swear I could hear her eyes rolling. "See you later," she called out as I raced to the bathroom. "I want to know how everything goes today."

  I showered in record time and dressed in an understated black pant suit with white shirt. I'd wanted to get to work early to start things off on the right foot between Will and me. I mean, if I wanted to have more hot sex with him, it was in my interests to stay on his good side. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted the hot sex again.

  But it was nearly half past nine when I arrived and he was sitting at my desk, stabbing the keyboard with two fingers. He didn't look up. Strands of hair hung over his eyes and I really wanted to brush them aside.