I spotted Erica in the center of the rink floor. Raising my hand, I started to flag her down before deciding against it. She was having the time of her life giving skating technique tips to some bourgeoning speed skaters. Erica excelled at speed. She crouched low and had good balance, strong leg pushes to the side, and wonderful recovery strokes. The woman was a natural. Hmmm. I wondered if her schedule was open enough for her to consider teaching a speed-skating class. With George booked solid for lessons, I was on the hunt for more instructors. I’d have to talk to her about that.
I asked one of my high school employees to tell Erica I’d gone upstairs when she came off the floor. Then I zipped up my coat and headed to my apartment for rest and relaxation.
I spotted the answering machine blinking on the kitchen counter, and my heart leaped. Lionel must have called. All day I’d been trying to keep my mind from drifting back to last night. Now that I was thinking about it, my stomach gave a giddy flip as I waited for the sound of Lionel’s smooth baritone.
“Hey, girl.” Not Lionel. I felt a wave of disappointment even as I smiled at the voice of my best friend and former Chicago roommate, Jasmine. “Pick up the phone. Damn it. I must have called your home line. Either that or you’re outrunning madmen or getting shot at by camels. Whoever said city life is dangerous never visited your town. Call me back when you get this. Okay? I really need to talk.”
Jasmine sounded sad. Jasmine rarely sounded sad. She was loud and brash, and she never allowed herself to get down. It was that over-the-top personality and downright cheerfulness that kept me sane after my mother died and kept me laughing even as I packed up my things and moved back home. Though I knew she was bummed I had to leave, she never once allowed me to see her unhappiness. She sounded unhappy now.
Worry gnawed at me as I picked up the phone and dialed. No answer. I left a quick message, making sure to give her my cell number, put the phone back in the cradle, and stared at it. Should I call Lionel? What was the protocol for the day after you spent the night with a person? Part of me wanted to pick up the phone. The other part expected Lionel to call and was disappointed he hadn’t made the effort. After all, he was the one who used the L-word. Didn’t that obligate him to call? Of course, there was the possibility that last night was less than he’d hoped for. I mean, I was out of practice—and while everyone said it was like riding a bike, I was the type who skinned my knees several times before I got the wheels zipping along.
I felt like I was back in high school. One would think I would have learned something about male/female relationships since then. One would be wrong. Good thing technology had evolved since the days of pimples and pubescent angst. If I’d been able to send text messages back then, I wouldn’t have spent so much time sitting next to the phone.
Letting my fingers do the walking, I punched out what I hoped was a casual-sounding message telling Lionel my plans for the evening. Then I set the phone down to convince myself I wasn’t waiting for Lionel’s return message.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Nothing. No message. Not even one of those silly smiley faces to let me know my text had gone through. I gnawed on my lip, trying to resist the urge to pick up the phone and send another text. If he got the first text, the second would look desperate and clingy. Neither was a good look for me.
A knock on the door saved me from my insecurities. Erica was here. I sat the phone back on the kitchen counter and yelled, “The door’s open, Erica. Come on in.”
Putting a big smile on my face, I turned, walked out of the kitchen, and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing in my living room was a strange black-haired woman wearing a long trench coat. The moment she spotted me, her eyes narrowed.
“Are you Rebecca Robbins?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Her lip curled into a snarl as she reached into her coat pocket and said, “The days of you causing trouble are going to end, and they are going to end right now.”
Eight
I froze as I watched the stranger in my living room pull something out of her pocket. The glint of the recessed lighting against metal made my pulse jump.
A knife? A gun?
Whatever it was, I didn’t plan on waiting around to find out. Over the last couple of months, I’d been shot at far more than I wanted to remember. I wasn’t interested in adding to the count.
Leaping to my left, I dove behind the couch and then crawled to the end table. My hand felt around atop the table and latched on to an ugly metal statue of a roller skate. I heard footsteps shuffle on the carpet to my left. A moment later the black-haired stranger came into view. I cocked back my arm and was ready to let the statue fly when the front door opened.
“Mother Lucas, what are you doing here?”
Mother Lucas?
I peeked over the sofa and spotted Danielle in the doorway. Whether her red cheeks were from the cold, embarrassment, or anger was a toss-up. Something told me it was a combination of all three.
Mother Lucas slid whatever object she was holding back into her pocket and gave Danielle a wide smile. “Danielle, dear. After hearing so much about Rebecca, I wanted to stop by and introduce myself. It’s such a pleasure to meet my son’s friends, especially the ones who are going to be part of the most important day of his life.”
“You broke into my apartment,” I said, keeping a firm grip on the ugly bronze statue.
“Is that true, Mother Lucas?” Danielle asked.
The woman’s eyes widened. “Of course not. My son is a minister.”
What one thing had to do with another was beyond me. Clearly, the woman needed to brush up on her Bible studies. By my estimation, Rich’s mother had put a dent in several commandments during the three minutes she’d been in my apartment.
“I didn’t invite you into my house,” I insisted.
“Of course you did, dear. I heard you quite clearly. You said to come in.” She gave me a small, sad smile. “Why else would I be standing here? Danielle, why don’t you get your friend a glass of water? She must have had a very long day between running her business and helping with your wedding.”
This felt like one of the Twilight Zone episodes I used to watch when I was eight. Occasionally, the whole thing was a dream. Maybe if I pinched myself Mother Lucas and her alternate reality would go away.
Nope. Still here.
“Look,” I said trying to ignore the bulge in Mother Lucas’s pocket. “This is all a misunderstanding. My friend Erica was supposed to be here, so when I heard someone arrive, I thought it was her and asked her to come in. I never expected someone I hadn’t met before to walk into my home.” Or cause me to dive behind furniture. Speaking of which, ouch. I had a rug burn on my knee. When I was a kid, I thought being a movie stuntperson would be a glamorous career. Wow, had I been wrong.
Mother Lucas straightened her shoulders. “You have the audacity to question my manners? I’m not the one who was crawling around on the floor.” Her nose wrinkled. “When was the last time you vacuumed?”
First she barged into my apartment. She then scared me with whatever was in her pocket, and now she was insulting my housekeeping skills! Enough was enough.
“I’d like you to leave.”
“No.”
I blinked. “No? What do you mean, no?”
Mother Lucas crossed her arms over her chest and sat on my chair. “You invited me into your home. That means I get to stay.”
This was worse than inviting a vampire into your home. Something told me that garlic would only make her hungry. I needed something stronger, and only one thing came to mind.
Taking the route to the kitchen that kept me as far away from my unwanted guest as possible, I said, “I’m asking you one last time to please leave.”
Mother Lucas shook her head.
“Okay,” I said grabbing my phone. “You asked for it. I’m calling the cops.”
Danielle gasped as my finger pushed Sean’s number on speed dial. “That’s not necessary, because we really h
ave to get going,” she said. “Mother Lucas, you and Rebecca can find a better time to get acquainted.”
Like when hell froze over.
The phone started to ring.
Danielle looked at the phone in my hand, grabbed her soon-to-be mother-in-law by the hand, and tugged her out of the chair. “Rich is waiting in the car. He wanted to take us out to a special dinner to celebrate your early arrival. We don’t want to keep him waiting. Do we?”
Mother Lucas gave Danielle’s hand a pat. “Of course not. I’ll be here from now until the wedding. There’s plenty of time for me to pay Rebecca a call.” She looked at me and smiled. “I’m very much looking forward to getting to know all about you.”
With that threat hanging in the air, Mother Lucas walked out the door. Giving me an apologetic look, Danielle started to leave, then said, “I hate to ask, but have you come up with an idea for the new table favor yet?” When I raised an eyebrow, she said, “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?” and closed the door behind her.
Hitting END on my phone, I decided I needed a drink. Or four.
Two steps away from the kitchen, I heard the door handle shift. Turning, I cocked my roller-skate-statue throwing arm back and stopped short as Sean Holmes asked, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Oy. Just what I needed. “I’m practicing shot put for the Olympic trials. What does it look like I’m doing?”
I waited for Sean to say something cutting. Instead he laughed. This day was getting stranger by the minute.
“Look, I’ve had a long day. Could laughing at my life wait until tomorrow?” I put down the statue, turned my back, and marched into the kitchen.
Sean followed. “I’m here because you called. Your phone calls often involve some kind of catastrophe, so I decided to drop by and see what was up.”
Damn. I hated that he was right, about both the call and my life. I popped the cork on a bottle of wine and grabbed a glass. “The phone call was a mistake. Sorry to waste your time.”
“It won’t be a waste if you pour me a glass of that red.”
“Isn’t there a rule about cops drinking on duty?” As in, they aren’t allowed to?
Sean smiled. “I’m not on duty.” He plucked the glass of wine I’d poured for myself off the counter. “I only stopped here because I figured you needed help with your … investigation.”
I felt the need to pinch myself again. “You’re offering to help me?”
“You’re trying to help Mrs. Johnson. I’m trying to help the entire community. I don’t see why we shouldn’t work together to put the thief behind bars.” While I tried to recover from that shock, Sean took a sip of wine and added, “I heard you talked to Eleanor Schaffer today. I looked at the files. Her name was on Annette’s list.”
Technically Sean hadn’t asked a question, so I didn’t need to respond. I didn’t know much about being an investigator, but I’d discovered that it was best to stay quiet and let other people fill in the silences. You learned more that way. Taking a wine goblet out of the cupboard, I filled it and took a big swig.
Sean studied me over the rim of his drink for a moment.
Then he put his wineglass on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. The movement caused his unzipped jacket to shift, giving me a good view of his holstered sidearm. Normally, this reminder of Sean’s official authority would have worried me. Probably because most of the time in my quest for justice I tiptoed into the gray area of the law. On this occasion, however, I hadn’t done anything to warrant concern. No breaking and entering. No obstruction of justice. Nothing that could allow Sean to throw his badge around and threaten to land me in jail. I was in the clear.
Giving him a big smile, I took another drink of wine and leaned back against the counter. If Sean thought I was going to be the one to speak first in this verbal game of chicken, he was mistaken. For the first time in our bizarre relationship, I was in charge—and I liked it.
Sean raked his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “Look, I questioned Eleanor after Annette’s breakin. She didn’t have any information on the theft.”
Still no question. Still no answer.
Sean must have figured this out since he added, “Did she remember anything new when you questioned her?”
“Nope. She didn’t remember anything new about the salon.” Oops. My system started to buzz in a way that told me to lay off the wine.
Maybe it was the wine, but I decided to cut Sean a break. “Eleanor told her son that Annette was leaving town for the holiday.” Sean’s eyes gleamed, and I shook my head before he could hurry to make a wrongful arrest. “Joey has a great alibi for half of the thefts. He’s not the guy you’re looking for.”
Sean frowned and downed the rest of his wine. “No, but he could have been.” His blue eyes met mine. “You did good work.”
Pleasure streaked through me. “Really?”
He laughed. “As much as I hate to admit it, yeah. You found a lead and tracked it down. Too bad it didn’t pan out. If we’re lucky, the next one will.”
Huh. There was that word again. We. As if the two of us were a team. Maybe pigs had grown wings and were flying over a ski resort in hell. Either that or the wine had also gone to Sean’s head.
Regardless of the reason, I decided I’d better take advantage of his go-team attitude since I severely doubted it would ever come again. “I also stopped by the Kurtzes’ house today. No one was home, but a neighbor mentioned the Kurtzes’ dogs were in the house when the first theft took place. Don’t you think it’s strange that someone would break into a house guarded by a half-dozen German shepherds?”
Sean shrugged. “I wasn’t part of the department when the first theft happened. Sheriff Jackson and Deputy Murphy were the investigative team. But yeah.” He walked over and poured himself another glass. “I think it’s strange the burglar chose a house with six large dogs. Especially since everyone around here knows the dogs are given free rein in the house when the Kurtzes aren’t home.”
“Were the dogs … you know … okay after the burglary?”
“They didn’t need therapy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Sigh. “What I meant was, were the dogs sleepy or acting strange? Like they were drugged?”
Sean laughed. “This isn’t a movie, Rebecca. In real life, people don’t throw doctored steaks into the house and wait for the dogs to fall asleep.”
The movies had to get their material from somewhere. Besides, from what I’d seen recently, real-life crime was far quirkier than the stuff I saw on the big screen. Sean’s laughter grated on my nerves, but he had information I needed. Instead of a snappy retort, I dug my fingernails into my palms.
Sean tossed back the wine and glanced at his watch. “I should probably get going. There’s a sexy nurse from Peoria who’s waiting to raise my heart rate.”
Oy. The man was a pig. Okay. Maybe pig was too harsh considering his recent streak of cooperation. Still … Men!
Rolling my eyes, I walked Sean to the door and said, “I hope you and your friend have a great date tonight.”
He walked out the door and turned. “Your tone makes me think you don’t approve of my date. Why is that?”
Because, whoever this woman was, she deserved better than having her potential sex life broadcast to the nearest listener.
“I don’t know the woman you’re going out with, so I have no reason to approve or disapprove.”
Sean leaned against the door and grinned. “You know what?”
“What?”
“You’re beautiful when you’re jealous.”
I didn’t think. I just reacted. Slam.
“Ow.” Sean yelped behind the closed door.
I threw the lock in case Sean decided to revoke his recent policy on not arresting me. Then I looked through the peephole in time to watch Sean retreat. Something told me he wouldn’t be quite as friendly tomorrow. Then again, maybe he’d realize I’d done him a favor, since his date m
ight need to employ her medical training.
As aggravating as it was to know Sean had gotten a rise out of me twice in one day, his visit had helped solidify my next investigative step. I was about to put in another call to my grandfather when someone knocked on the door. Erica had arrived, and she wasn’t alone. Accompanying her were Anna Phylaxis, Halle Bury, derby captain Typhoon Mary, and three extralarge pizzas.
“Hey, Rebecca.” Anna and her long legs made a beeline for the kitchen. “Erica told us you wanted company for dinner, so here we are. Mary was supposed to bring soda, but she got a flat and had to tip the tow truck driver. If you want, we can go downstairs and buy some off the snack counter, or we can just drink whatever you have here.”
Before I could answer, Anna returned with sodas, plates, napkins, and trivets.
There were only ten days until Thanksgiving. If I was going to solve this case, I needed to do it soon. Otherwise there was a good chance the thief would strike again. Unfortunately, if I wanted to get work done, I’d need to evict my friends. Past experience told me that I wasn’t up to tossing derby girls out of my house. They were bigger, stronger, and really good at convincing me that they were only crashing my place for my own good. So, unless I wanted to call Sean (and I really didn’t want to call Sean), or say something mean to make them feel bad (something I also didn’t want to do), I would just have to eat pizza and wait until they left for practice to continue my investigation.
Or not.
As I took my first bite of spicy sausage and mushroom pizza, Erica said, “Everyone on the team is buzzing about your new career. Since Sherlene-n-Mean’s memorial, there’s been speculation about you pursuing a law enforcement career. The team thinks having a rink owner that doubles as a PI is great for our reputation.”
Halle swallowed her pizza with a nod. “We all have your back. Just tell us what to do and we’ll do it. The more of us working the case, the faster the crook is caught. Right?”
“Right.” Anna, Erica, and Mary cheered and high-fived.
Skating Under the Wire Page 9