by Cat Clayton
He shifted his weight from one foot to another, and his face softened slightly. “I uh... wanted to apologize for getting Nick in heat at work. He’s a decent squad leader. I don’t agree with the way—”
“You son of a gun,” I said, stepping toward him. “You’re sorry? Really? Because the chief gave him a week off for you ratting me out; as if he’s responsible for my actions. Not to mention he kicked my butt out of the house. I had to move back in with my Pop! Are you happy now?” My shrill voice echoed in the trees. I could’ve reached out and choked him.
Yeah! What the lady said! Cuff’s growling rattled through his teeth.
Jackson removed his baseball cap, as if contemplating his next move. At first, I thought I’d stunned him silent, but then he spoke. Not my lucky day.
“I didn’t know Becker would take it that far. Look, I’m sorry. I called Nick the other night after you left the shop and tried—”
“Please stop. I don’t want to hear it,” I said.
I recalled seeing Jackson on the phone in what seemed to be a heated discussion as I’d pulled out of the back lot. Had he been arguing with Nick about me? Over what and why? Well, it didn’t matter now.
“You’re a real piece of work.” I pointed at his chest. “Just back off. Stay out of my business and please leave me alone!” I spun on my heels and marched off.
“For what it’s worth, I said I’m sorry!” he called behind me.
Talk to the butt, not the face, buddy! Cuff growled, trailing after me.
Ugh. The nerve of that guy! He had me so flustered. And I forgot to mention Peters’ hammer. As I stomped off toward my car, I fished around in my pockets for my keys, crap!
Peering through the driver’s window confirmed my suspicion. The keys dangled from the ignition. I must’ve gotten out and for some strange reason hit the door lock button. Either that or the Bug was out to get me. And my purse, along with the spare key and my cell phone, sat in the passenger seat. It was ten blocks to the shop.
I glanced down at my boots, an unlikely pair of hiking shoes, and kicked the car with all my might, putting a good-sized dent in the door panel. “Stupid freaking car!”
Cuff lifted his leg on the front tire. Don’t blame the car, Chiquita.
“For just five seconds, could you keep your muzzle shut and let me think?” I turned on Cuff, fists clenched. “Please!”
I don’t think a tantrum will unlock the doors, Chiquita.
To keep from squeezing the life out of him, I folded my arms against the driver’s side window, burying my head, and took in deep, cleansing breaths. I stayed like that for several minutes, attempting to avoid the asthma attack I felt coming on. My lungs tightened and a slight rattling wheeze started. I stared in the window at my purse, which housed my inhaler. Could things get any worse?
“Locked out?” Officer Jackson’s voice came from behind me.
I felt the heat of his gaze, burning straight through the back of me. I struggled to inhale, my lungs squeezing with each breath. I coughed.
From between my arms, I mumbled, “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Cuff’s snicker echoed inside my head.
“I need my inhaler and it’s locked inside.” My lungs whined with each breath.
“Here, let me see if I can try,” Jackson said from close behind me. Too close.
I backed away from the car. The sight of him caused my breath to hitch, worse than any asthma attack. He’d slipped into black leather bike pants and boots. No shirt. A black, geometric, tribal-patterned tattoo ran up his right shoulder and disappeared somewhere on his back. Jeez-freaking-Louise. The man should have his own calendar.
I tore my eyes from him and saw a motorcycle leaning on its kickstand a few parking spaces over. Guess I missed seeing it parked there earlier. My attention to details needed some fine-tuning.
Jackson walked over to his bike and sifted through the saddlebag and produced a slim-jim. He glanced up, the hint of a sexy grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Damn him to hell and back. Twice. He knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“You look like you could use some chocolate.” He headed back toward the Bug and tossed me a snack size Snickers bar. “Here, I had this stashed in my cooler pack.”
I caught it. In my unfortunate stress-driven moment, I unwrapped the chocolate and popped the entire thing in my mouth, savoring the rich, chocolaty goodness. I didn’t want Jackson’s help, but I really didn’t have a choice. I needed it. Observing from the curb, I couldn’t help but gape at his bulging biceps and rippling back muscles as he worked. The tattoo I’d seen earlier stretched over the shoulder and ended with a gorgeous mandala.
He’s quite the strapping fella, wouldn’t you say?
“You can say that again,” I whispered.
He’s quite the—
“Hush!” I gave Cuff a soft thump with the toe of my boot.
My dog shot me a dirty look and sat down on his haunches.
Jackson slid the flat metal tool between the door and the window, listening with his ear pressed up against the glass. “Sometimes, if you tap her in just the right spot, she’ll release.” He gazed up toward the sky, running the slim-jim along the inside of the door. “C’mon darlin’,” he said.
I heard the humor in his voice and my face flushed at his sexual innuendo. I should tell him to go. But I didn’t. I stood there, blushing, enjoying the playfulness. Wheezing, I massaged my throat.
“Maybe I should call someone else to help,” I said.
Click!
“There ya go,” he said, pulling my car door open. A devilish grin spread across his face as he backed up allowing me access. “Cars are like women, give ‘em a little tenderness and sweet talking, and they’ll open up.” He winked, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re welcome.”
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes and disregarded my sudden lack of integrity.
Cautiously, I approached my car.
Cuff squeezed past me, hopping in and leaped over the center console to the passenger seat. I reached in and snatched my inhaler from my purse and took two puffs, relief washing over me.
“Glad to help,” he said from behind.
I collapsed against the driver’s seat, turning my head to see Jackson sauntering toward his motorcycle.
“This changes nothing, ya know?” I yelled after him.
Careful, Chiquita, your nose is growing. Cuff cocked his head, watching me.
Jackson turned around. He filled out those leather pants perfectly. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Ugh! You’re infuriating!” I said.
“And have I mentioned I like those boots?” he asked.
“I know; you dig the camo thing,” I said.
“That, I do.” He pulled a plain white t-shirt over his head and then slipped on a black leather jacket.
He saved your day.
A dumbstruck fool, I sat, ogling him, too stunned to move or say anything. Frustrated beyond belief, I wanted to pull my hair out by the roots.
Close your mouth, Chiquita. You’re drooling. And it’s polite to say thank you.
“Oh, be quiet!” I snapped at Cuff.
“Thanks,” I said to the officer.
Officer Jackson saluted me, mounting his bike and lifted a shiny black helmet off the handlebar. “Who knows, maybe this will be a new beginning for us.”
Before I could scream an obscene reply, the bike engine roared to life. He pulled the helmet over his head, revved the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.
I reached over and slammed my door closed. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the keys and turned the ignition over. I wished I’d never seen him today, but then again, if I hadn’t, I’d be stranded right now.
I sat there, car idling, and Cuff straddling my lap, panting. I closed my eyes, allowing the cold air of the A/C to lower my temperature a few degrees. Officer Jackson had a lot of nerve. I put the car in gear and drove out of the parking
lot and headed toward the shop.
My cell phone rang along the way. I didn’t recognize the number. Maybe a customer? I pushed the call-answer button on my steering wheel.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Helloooo!”
“I’m watching you, bitch!” a deep voice barked over my car’s speakers, and then the call disconnected.
The call ended so abruptly; I didn’t get the chance to detect whether I recognized the voice.
Chiquita, we’ve got some trouble on our paws.
“Ya think?”
I swung a hard left and straight into the lot behind the shop. My eyes roamed the quiet alley, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. A few other cars dotted the lot, belonging to neighboring businesses. We scrambled out of the Bug and high-tailed it into the back door, locking it behind us.
DANIEL WAS PACING IN the front lobby when we returned, a worried expression plaguing his handsome face.
“What’s wrong now?” I asked. Guess this wasn’t a good time to tell him about the threatening phone call I’d had the pleasure of taking.
“More cancellations, that’s what’s wrong!” Daniel was in panic mode. “What were we thinking, trying for business as usual at a murder scene?”
I shrugged. My life had become a series of unfortunate events.
“I don’t know, but can we please get pie now?” I asked.
In Orsack’s Cafe, Daniel and I chose a round table near the front window. We placed our order of two coffees and two slices of Dutch apple pie.
I set my bag in my lap and opened the flap so Cuff could stick his nose out. Orsack’s wasn’t exactly dog friendly, but the staff didn’t mind as long as he stayed in my purse.
Narrowing his eyes, Daniel studied me.
“What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?” I asked.
“You’re acting strange,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Although, strange was a good way to describe the way I’d been feeling lately.
“Normal Steely would be in a frenzy trying to figure out how to deal with the onslaught of cancellations. But you don’t seem the slightest bit worried. Look, I realize you found Mrs. Schirmack’s body, and that you’re upset about the whole Nick thing, but you seem... well, extra distracted. What else is going on with you?”
He knew me all too well.
The waitress brought our coffees and plates of warm apple yumminess. I leaned in, inhaling coffee perfection, unable to wait. I burned my tongue with the first scorching sip.
I looked up at Daniel, his blue eyes boring into mine. “Listen, we’ll deal with the cancellations, but first...” I exhaled with a sigh. Confession time. “Remember the black car from the other night near the burn site?”
Daniel glanced out the window, his eyes popping out of his head. “Um, you mean the one right there?” He nodded.
I swiveled in my chair, disturbing Cuff, who let out a Yip!
Parked at the curb in front of the cafe, the Buick’s ominous tinted windows stared back at us. Cuff wiggled, poking his head out. He snarled. I attempted to quiet him by stroking the top of his head.
Peering hard, trying to get a glimpse of the driver, I whispered, “That would be the one.” The hair on my arms and neck stood on end, as I imagined the devilish grin mocking me on the other side of the dark glass.
The car crept by the cafe slowly, my eyes following it, until it disappeared out of sight.
“What do you think it’s up to?” Daniel asked.
“Stalking me.” I knew it. And the call I’d gotten earlier had to be from the driver. For sure.
Give the girl a prize, folks, Cuff mumbled inside my head.
“Now, you sound paranoid,” he said, munching a bite of pie.
I peeled my eyes away from the window and buried my face in my hands. “I know he’s following me.” I mumbled through my fingers.
“Why—”
I slammed my hands on the table, bouncing the plates and forks. “Remember the tan car? It had to be Flora’s. She must’ve gotten there before us to do some digging around. Unfortunately, the killer caught her. Whoever is driving that black car is the one who killed her and most likely the same person who killed Samson and robbed the bank.” It felt good to get the information off my chest.
Daniel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word.
“After I found her body—”
We. Cuff added.
I rolled my eyes. “After we found her body in the shop, and I gave my statement to Officer Jackson, I saw the Buick and followed it all the way to our house. The driver knows where I live... I mean, where I lived.” I swallowed hard. Moving out of Nick’s hadn’t sunk in yet. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
Daniel shook his head. “Are you crazy? You followed a man you suspect murdered not one, but two people? Do you have a death wish? Why are you just now getting around to telling me this?”
“Because I was so distraught over—”
He held up a hand to quiet me. “Forget it. Have you told all of this to the authorities? Please, please say you have.”
Are you kidding? That would have been the smart thing for her to do.
“Well, some of it.”
“That’s it. Let’s go. We’re going down to the station right now. You’re telling the cops everything!” Daniel reached into his pocket, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and slapped it on the table. He tugged me out of my chair and marched me out of Orsack’s.
He’s treating me like a five-year-old.
If the shoe fits, Chiquita.
I ignored Cuff’s insult as Daniel led me down the sidewalk. I had a hunch this big confession would not end well.
Chapter 12
Ten minutes later, we sat in Nick’s office. Apparently, his days off hadn’t started yet, because he sat there, grilling me about following the car, the threatening note inside the mailbox, and why I chose not to tell him about it.
“How could you have left out such pertinent information? You’ve already had someone shoot at you. Do you want to end up at the morgue?” he asked.
Nick leaned against the corner of his desk, fuming. Any second now, flames would rocket out of his ears. He needed to chill out before he hurt himself. He picked up the torn piece of the McDonald’s bag I’d retrieved from my car and reread the menacing message. He let out a weighted exhale, and he tossed the scrap of paper on his desk.
Cuff perched on my lap, tilting his head side-to-side, listening.
Toying with Mama’s locket, I sent up a quick request to her. Please give me the strength and patience to handle this with calm tactfulness.
I glanced over at Daniel and scowled.
“What? Don’t look at me like that. You could be in real danger!” Daniel rolled his eyes and crossed his legs.
Nick ignored Daniel’s dramatic comment. “I will ask you again, and don’t give me some cockamamie, bullshit answer.” Nick furrowed his eyebrows, his sharp blue eyes studying me.
Daniel snickered, probably at the word “cockamamie.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the death threat?” Nick asked.
Sitting here being reprimanded irked me. Not to mention the jerk threw me out last night!
“This isn’t the time to act like a child, Steely,” Nick said.
A quick tap on the door caused us all to jump. A busty blonde in a uniform, cradling a stack of files in her arm, breezed in smelling of peonies. Setting the folders down on his desk in a neat stack, she ogled Nick.
I hate the scent of peonies, I thought.
“Here are those files you asked for,” she said in a honey-laced voice.
She cut her eyes at me, and then like an actress from one of those stupid shampoo commercials, she tossed her golden beach waves with the flick of her hands and sent them cascading down her shoulders. She sashayed her slender, yet curvy self toward the door, stopping to pose for an imaginary camera.
“Thank you, Officer,” Nick said,
his eyes lingering on her far too long.
She offered him a smile and closed the door behind her.
What the heck was that?
One hot mama, that’s what.
Careful. I gave him a little squeeze. “Remember who fills your food bowl,” I whispered in Cuff’s ear.
“Did you say something?” Nick asked, wearing a strange expression.
“I said, who was that?” I forced a smile.
Your face is scrunched up and your eyes look all crazy, Chiquita.
I squeezed a tad harder.
Simmer down. You’re the fairest one of them all. Sheesh Louise.
“She’s a new hire and stop trying to change the subject. Now, why didn’t you tell me about the death threat?” Nick spat.
“To be honest, you didn’t give me a chance. You were too busy kicking me out, rather than listening!” My voice quivered and I could feel myself losing control. “I am not a child, please stop bossing me around.”
Nick catapulted off the corner of his desk, landing in front of me. “You deliberately disregarded my request to stay away from the burn site. You’ve set this guy off, and now he’s sending you warnings. Not only that, but then you follow him and keep a death threat from me. And you don’t want to be treated like a child? Well, then stop acting like one!” His cruel tone scalded me. He wheeled around his desk and collapsed in his leather chair.
“This is serious, Steely. It’s obvious this guy will kill if someone gets in his way. You need to stay out of it or I’ll toss you in jail to keep you out of trouble.” He picked up a pencil and began thumping it on the palm of his hand.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said.
Daniel snorted. I shot him a go-to-hell look.
“Don’t tempt me,” Nick said.
You are barking up the wrong tree, Chiquita. We can’t find Virgil with you in the slammer. Cuff yipped in my lap.
My dog had a point.
The pencil in Nick’s hand snapped in two, and he tossed the pencil pieces in the wastebasket. Stormy blue eyes narrowed in on me.
“Well?” he asked.