Nate took Tabitha’s call while he was in his car, on his way to her house—not that she was aware of that, of course.
“You got her plate numbers?” he said. “This could be just the lead we’ve been looking for. Great work, Tabby.”
Lately, the graph of Nate’s success with this case had been a study in peaks and valleys. At the sound of Tabby’s voice, and at hearing she’d met a woman who claimed to know Peter, the arrow began heading north once more.
“Give me the numbers so I can run them.”
At the other end of the connection, Tabitha seemed to stall. Then, “Um, okay, but I should probably mention that she was parked kind of far away.”
“Okay.”
“And,” she muttered, “she was driving into the fog.”
“Yeah. Okay. And…”
“And I was trying to stay hidden so she wouldn’t see me—”
“The. Numbers. If. You. Don’t. Mind.”
“Well, you don’t have to get all pissy about it, Inspector.”
“Pissy is my middle name, babe.” Especially lately, ever since he’d met one very frustrating strawberry blonde. “The numbers?”
“Okay, okay,” she huffed. “They’re 4-N-Q-E–7–5–0. I think. Maybe the N was an H, and the Q may have been a zero. And it’s possible the 4 was an H, too, and the last zero could have been a Q. And, uh, the E was maybe a B.”
Silence.
When he said nothing, she snapped, “Well, at least you have something to go on now. Can’t you just rearrange them and put them into a computer or whatever?”
His patience went right out the car window.
“I doubt even frigging NASA has a computer powerful enough to calculate the number of possible permutations based on all the variations of that one frigging license plate!”
“You said frigging twice.”
“I frigging didn’t say frigging nearly enough frigging times!”
Silence again.
“I did my best, Inspector.” She sounded wounded, which made his conscience flinch.
“The woman was driving away. I wasn’t properly prepared. It was all very spur-of-the-moment. I’m sorry.”
He blew out a long breath, calming himself before he spoke again. “I know you did your best. I’m sorry I yelled.”
This case was really getting to him. Two people were dead, maybe more. And everything was so elusive; even things that should have been solid—such as a simple license plate number—seemed to slip through his fingers. It still irked him that the suspect himself had gotten clean away. Not Tabby’s fault, but his. He had no right to take his frustrations out on her.
“Listen,” he said, his tone softer. “Is there anything you can tell me about this woman that I can use? What did she look like? What kind of car did she drive?”
“White.”
“The woman or the car?”
“Both.”
Was that all women knew about cars? he wondered. What color they were? “I mean the make of car, Tabby. Or the model.”
“I know what you mean,” she huffed again, “but I don’t know anything about cars. It was expensive, white, a convertible.”
“Top down, or up?”
“Up. Although you’d have thought she’d had the top down, considering how she was dressed.”
“Which was…”
She described the woman’s clothing, finishing with, “I mean, it was chilly today, but she looked like she was on her way to the North Pole by way of Neiman Marcus.”
“What did she say, exactly?” He shifted gears and guided the Accord up the hill.
“She said her name was Lucy Anderson, but I think she was lying. She claimed to be a close friend of Peter’s, and that he’s innocent and she wanted me to tell you, the police, to leave him alone.”
Nate took the next corner and began looking for a parking space somewhere in the same time zone as Tabby’s house. This time of evening, it could take a while.
“Okay, write everything down that you remember,” he said, “and bring it with you.”
“Bring it with me, when?”
“I’m circling the block. If I can’t find a place to park, I’ll just pull up in front and you can hop in.”
She made an exasperated sound in her throat. “What are you talking about, Inspector Darling?”
“I’m off duty,” he said, pulling beside the line of cars parked along the street in front of her house. “So it’s Nate. You’ll be screaming it later.”
“In your dreams, pal.”
“And dress warm. I’m taking you out, as in outside.”
“Oh. Really. What if I have plans, Nate?” Again with the sharp T.
He smiled, knowing he’d won.
“I have two tickets, second level, first row at the railing behind home plate, to see the Seattle Mariners kick the Giants’ asses.”
The sound she made this time was more like a gasping squeal, and he had a tough time keeping his mind out of the sack, since it sounded exactly like the throaty sigh he was sure she’d make when he made her come.
Through his windshield, he watched as the curtain over her bedroom window fluttered, and there she stood, glaring out at him, phone in one hand, crumpled lace curtain in the other. Her eyes widened, then pinched, making her adorable nose crinkle.
“You’re here!” she accused. “You could have given me a little notice.”
He smiled up at her. “Sure, but I’m a spontaneous kind of guy.” Which was a big fat lie. As soon as he’d found out she liked baseball, he’d moved heaven and earth and paid a premium price for those tickets, but after their date-that-wasn’t-a-date, he’d been hesitant to ask her in advance. Now, with him double-parked in front of her house, the lure of two prime seats in his hot hands, she couldn’t refuse.
“Unfortunately,” she drawled, “the Giants will prevail and your sorry-assed Mariners, who have never won a pennant, by the way, will head home in disgrace with their tails between their legs.”
He gazed up at her. “Care to place a small wager on that?”
She slid her index finger along the inside of the window glass, and he could almost feel her touch along his belly.
“I’d be ten kinds of fool to bet with you, Inspector, since I have a suspicion a victory on your part would involve some sort of sexual escapades.”
He grinned. “You’d be right. But if you’re so sure the Giants are going to win, then you have nothing to lose.”
“Don’t let this fluffy hair and these big blue eyes fool you, Inspector. I only make wagers on sure things, and there’s just enough of an outside chance the Mariners could squeak by to make me into a chump for taking your bet.”
She disappeared from view, and the curtain fluttered back into place. “I’ll be down in ten,” she said. “Keep your motor running.” The connection went dead.
Oh, his motor was running, all right. Ten minutes. Ten long minutes for him to imagine her tearing off her clothes to put on something appropriate for a chilly evening’s baseball game. If she was like most women, she’d change her underwear. A thong would be hot. He let his imagination go with that one for a moment. And no bra. All the better to get my hands on you. The hands in question began to dampen. Jeans that hugged her curves would be good, too. Maybe a tight sweater…
He ordered his groin to behave as he flicked another glance at her bedroom window, just as the yellow square turned dark.
It didn’t really matter what she wore tonight, or how much care she took to get herself all frilled up, because as soon as the game was over, he was getting her out of those clothes—one way or another.
Chapter 15
To dream of sports is a favorable omen; to dream of baseball indicates you will have a happy home life.
FOLKLORE
Tabitha huddled in her seat, watching the fog blow in from the bay, softening the ballpark’s bright lights to bursts of gray fuzz.
Curling her hands into fists in her jacket pockets, she hunkered down a li
ttle more, waiting for Nate to return with the drinks and stadium dogs, hoping he remembered to slather hers with mustard.
The game wasn’t going well—not from Nate’s perspective anyway. She grinned. Poor baby. The Giants were trouncing the Mariners—just as she’d known they would. He was trying to be stoic about it, but every time a San Francisco player had a good at-bat, Nate would grunt. Whenever a Seattle player struck out, he would remain silent and sullen through the crowd’s cheers. At the top of the seventh, San Francisco led ten-to-one. A victory at this point for the Mariners was highly doubtful, much to Tabitha’s not-so-secret delight.
She took in a deep breath and caught a whiff of damp, briny air; peanuts and salt from the kid two seats down. The rowdy college guys behind her were drinking beer and she could smell the mellow hops. She caught a pinch of somebody’s spicy aftershave, and the beefy scent of boiled hot dogs and relish. Down on the pitcher’s mound, the Giants’ young relief pitcher wound up and blasted one over plate. His hard-thrown ball smacked into the catcher’s mitt like knuckles to the jaw.
“Strike two!” the umpire barked. Swiveling his body, he thrust out his right arm, two fingers extended.
The next pitch brought the knock of a Louisville slugger as it connected with the cowhide ball, sending it high into a pop fly. Easy pickings for the shortstop, ending the Mariners’ at-bat. Tabitha smiled with satisfaction and settled back into her seat while the teams changed places on the field.
Watching the game was good, but being with Nate was fantastic.
Sitting next to him, so close she could feel the electricity charge through his strong, healthy body, she felt a connection with him she hadn’t felt with a man for a very long time—maybe ever.
“For you,” he’d said as she’d slid into the passenger seat of his car. In his grip, he held a bouquet of pink, blue, and white sweet peas, which he thrust into her hands after she’d buckled her restraints. When she looked surprised, he shrugged and mumbled shyly, “When I talked to your mom she said they’re your favorite flowers. My neighbor lady grows them and told me these are the first of the season. They, uh, they smell good.”
Tabitha had buried her nose in the bouquet, taking in the spicy sweet perfume. When she raised her head and looked at him, she smiled. “I love sweet peas. Thank you.”
Little fluttery things began flapping around in her heart when he smiled back. She felt light and happy and couldn’t stop grinning. Jani’s words came back to her—You’re falling, aren’t you…
No, not really. Not on purpose, anyway. Okay, maybe. A little. Okay, maybe a lot.
When they’d taken their seats at the stadium, he put his arm around her to keep her warm—he claimed—and she’d tucked into him, letting her defenses go for an hour or so, all in the name of warding off the chill, of course. And because being close to him felt so good.
She raised her head to remark on the Giants’ extraordinary bullpen, but he’d stopped her words with a kiss. Not a ballpark peck, not a what-a-fun-date smooch, not a teaser. A bedroom kiss. One of those long, deep, wet kisses involving tangled tongues, mingled breaths. Her eyes drifted closed and she envisioned being wrapped in his arms like this night after night after night…
Tabitha could almost see the triumphant look in Jani’s eyes. You are falling, aren’t you…
Yes, yes, yes, oh, yes…
When he pulled back from the kiss, she rasped, “If you don’t feed me, I’m going to pass out.”
“I got it covered,” he grinned, then pushed to his feet. “How do you like your dogs?”
“With a cold beer and lots of mustard.”
He leaned down then, raised her face with his knuckle, and kissed her again until she could barely breathe. The guys in the row behind them snorted and snickered and elbowed each other. Apparently, Nate didn’t care. Against her mouth, he whispered, “Keep your motor running.”
She watched him make his way through the crowd, and couldn’t help but admire his muscular body and the effortless way he moved. He was sweet and charming and fun, and she couldn’t help but let herself fall just a little—
“Bith! Bith? Like, hello?”
Tabitha shook her head, abruptly ending her reverie. Lifting her gaze, she realized there was a man standing at the railing in front of her.
Cal? “Cal?”
Well, if that just didn’t put a damper on the evening. She felt her smile head south and the effervescent tingle in her body turn to an uncomfortable electric shock. “What are you doing here?”
He snorted a laugh. “Same as you, I guess. Watching the ball game.”
Cal didn’t like baseball. “You don’t like baseball.”
Running long fingers through his perfectly styled brown hair, he said casually, “Tastes change. Besides, my new girlfriend’s uncle has season tickets. You really need to lighten up, Bith—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I hated it when we were married, and I hate it now. It comes out sounding like you’re just too drunk to say bitch.”
“Now, Bith. Would I ever thay that to you?” He fake hiccupped, then laughed, showing the white teeth and deep dimples that had so captivated her back when she was terminally young and hormonally stupid.
Sliding under the railing, he plopped into Nate’s vacant seat and curled his arm around her. She tried to squirm away, but he gripped her shoulder, holding her in place.
“I’m going to win, you know,” he said lightly as his fingers dug into her shoulder. “Like I said, my girlfriend’s uncle is this crack attorney—”
“And here I thought you were just a weed sort of guy.”
“Not that kind of crack. Crack as in, I’m going to get the house, Bith. Count on it.”
She squirmed harder, then showed him her doubled fists. “Move your arm, or I’m going to hurt you.”
From behind them, one of the college kids kicked the back of Cal’s seat.
“Dude. Like maybe you should do like the lady says.”
“Fuck off,” Cal said, then grinned. “Besides, this is no lady, this is my wife.”
Before World War III could break out, Tabitha turned to the boys and gave them a reassuring smile. Raising her palm, she said, “Thanks. It’s okay. Really. Thanks.”
All five guys glared at Cal, and the kid who’d kicked the seat said, “Yeah, okay. But, like, you just say the word.”
She nodded, then turned back to Cal.
“Leave before you cause a riot.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready,” he said, letting go of her but not leaving. “How much you figure that old relic is worth? Two million? Three?”
She glared into his calculating gray eyes. “Regardless of its worth, my grandmother left that house to me—”
“She left it to us, sweetheart,” he corrected. “I want the house or half its value in cash, or I’ll keep you tied up in court for so long it’ll bankrupt you and you’ll be forced to sell it. Either way, I get what’s coming to me.”
She only wished.
“I live in that house, Cal. My mother lives in that house. I have two boarders because the taxes and upkeep are so high, there’s no way I can afford to stay there otherwise. It’s never been renovated, the plumbing’s bad, the wood’s rotting in places, the kitchen needs a complete makeover. It would cost thousands and thousands of dollars to bring it up to speed. That’s money I don’t have, and I’m not plunging into a debt I can’t possibly repay by borrowing against the house.”
“My heart’s breaking for you, sweetheart.”
“Please, Cal. Even you can’t be that cruel. It’s not like I’m using the house as an investment—it costs me money, and it keeps four people, including two elderly ladies, from having to find reasonable housing in a very expensive city. If I do ever decide to sell it, I’ll give you your half then, but for now—”
Tapping her nose with his forefinger, he said, “Not…good…enough.”
She jerked away from him, tears of anger stinging her eyes. “Cal, e
ven you can’t be so mean-spirited—”
“Is there a problem here?”
Tabitha nearly jumped out of her seat.
Nate flicked a glance into her eyes, and whatever he saw there made his mouth flatten and his jaw tighten. Without a word, he slowly directed that hard gaze at Cal.
In unison, all five guys behind them snickered, then chortled, “Dude.”
Cal shot a quick glance from Nate to Tabitha, then back again. “No trouble, pal,” he said lightly. “Just saying hello to an old friend.”
“Try saying good-bye, pal.”
Cal stood and dipped under the railing to stand next to Nate. With a small salute at Tabitha, he drawled, “Buh-bye, Bith. Remember what I said.” One quick glance at Nate, and Cal swiveled on his heel and sauntered away.
Slipping under the railing, Nate took his seat. “Who was that asshole?”
Taking the food, she grumbled, “You read my file. Surely you can guess.”
“Your ex.”
She sipped the beer and took a bite of dog. Mmm. Mustard, and plenty of it. “Thank you.”
“What did he want?”
“Money.” She focused on her meal and tried not to think about how much it was going to cost to hire an attorney to fight her ex-husband. When it looked like Nate wanted to pursue the topic, she said, “I don’t want to talk about Cal right now. He’s a blight on my brain.”
Nate gazed into her eyes for a long time, then nodded.
On the field, somebody apparently did something spectacular. The crowd jumped to its feet and cheers went up all around the stadium. In their excitement, one of the guys behind them spilled his beer, and Tabitha lifted her feet to let it trickle its sticky, smelly way down the concrete bleachers.
Nate took a big bite of his hot dog and looked over at her. The glint of humor had returned to his eyes. “Either the Giants did something really good,” he said past the bulge in his cheek, “or the Mariners did something really bad.”
Arousing Suspicions Page 15