Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis

by Virginia Brown

  Her breath came hard and fast but she managed to grab the chain holding her cell phone. It had nothing on the end but a distorted metal link. Damn, damn, damn! Breathing hard, she turned around just in time to see the killer grab Sam off his back and fling him across the room. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Sam!” There was no answering yowl, no angry hiss. Propelled by fear and fury, she launched herself at the man staggering toward the French doors. “If you hurt my cat, you’re a dead man!” she yelled as she collided with him. He didn’t answer but kept going, and she leaped onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Sickly-sweet aftershave stung her nose, and his wiry hair tickled her chin.

  “Oof!” he said when she landed on him. He staggered a little and then grasped the edge of one of the doors and held on.

  Harley beat at his head, then grasped his fuzzy hair and yanked hard. Her momentum took her backward when his head came off. She screamed and let go, falling from his back onto the floor, and then he was gone.

  About that time, she heard the sound of sirens, and boots stomping up the stairs. Someone had called the police, a little too late. She squinted at the head she still held. A rubber mask, complete with hair. It figured. Elvis.

  * * * *

  “I can’t find my cat,” Harley said for about the twentieth time, and Bobby let out a long sigh.

  “He probably got out the open door. He’ll come back. Cats always come back.”

  “Sam’s an inside cat. He’s never stayed outside. Cami will be upset. Hell, I’m upset! I’ve looked everywhere, and called and called...” She put her face in her palms, muffling her voice. “Just like a damn male, always running off.”

  “I’m going to ignore that. Are you finished?” he asked one of the guys that had made her change clothes and put the ones she’d worn in one of their paper bags, then checked her teeth when she mentioned that she’d bitten her assailant.

  “No usable hair with follicles,” the CSR said, and Bobby turned back to her.

  “Just answer a few more questions and you can go look for your cat, okay? Tell me one more time what the guy looked like.”

  She looked up. “You don’t really listen, do you, Bobby. It was dark. He wore a mask. I never saw his face at all.”

  “But after you pulled off his mask, what did you see?”

  “The back of his head.”

  “And he was how tall?”

  “Damn, I don’t know, I didn’t take time to measure. I just thought that I should try to keep him here, and then he threw Frank across the room—”

  “Frank?”

  “Frank Burns. The ferret. I’m keeping him for Cami. I thought it was Sam, but it wasn’t. By the way, when you do find the guy, he’s going to have ferret fang marks all over his back and leg. Oh, and my teeth marks. Don’t forget that I bit him on the arm. They already took impressions, so when we do get this guy, they can match my teeth with his bitemark. That stuff tastes nasty, by the way.”

  Bobby let out another long sigh. “Come home with me, Harley. I have a nice pullout couch, I’ll even make you breakfast in the morning. Waffles. With pecans. Your favorite.”

  “Another time. I have to be at Yogi’s competition tonight, and it’s probably almost over by now. He’ll be wondering where I am.”

  “Harley—”

  “I promised, Bobby. I have to go. You know I do.”

  “All right. I’ll put an extra guard on your apartment.”

  She started to argue, then thought about it and nodded. “That’d be nice.”

  After she’d called Cami to come help look for Sam and make sure Frank hadn’t been hurt despite his apparently quick recovery, she went into the bathroom to clean up. Eek! Not even the most expensive gel had ever made her hair stand up like that before. A big red mark still showed on her cheekbone where he’d hit her, and she had a scratch on her chin. Collateral damage.

  By the time Cami got there to check over Frank, who seemed quite unconcerned about the evening’s excitement as long as he had treats and toys, Harley had cleaned up as best she could and put on a clean pair of jeans and tee shirt. There wasn’t much she could do with the hair.

  Cami stood just inside the door and looked at the mess in the living room. Frank’s tank tilted oddly, but that was because the coffee table did, too. “Your housekeeping skills really need some work, Harley.”

  “I know. But at least my Tiffany lamp is all right. We just have to find Sam. I’m going to make my appearance for Yogi, then come back as quickly as I can to help, okay?”

  “He’s probably not far, maybe in the bushes or on another balcony. Don’t worry about him, Harley. He’ll be just fine. Sam knows how to hide.”

  “A skill I haven’t quite mastered, it seems.”

  “But at least you fought off the killer.”

  “That’s right, I did. Without needing to be rescued.” She turned around, found Bobby standing by the balcony talking to a uniformed officer, and smiled. “Hey, Bobby, I didn’t need rescuing!”

  He looked over at her. “What the hell do you call this?”

  “Late. By the time you guys got here, I had it all under control.”

  “The hell you did. We found you cowering on the floor.”

  “Did you find the killer? I thought not. Maybe he got away, but he didn’t kill me.” She turned back to look at Cami. “I feel better now. Thanks. Just find Sam for me and my night will be complete. Oh, and please keep Frank out of my panty drawer, will you? He’s grown too fond of red lace bikinis. He and Tootsie would get along very well.”

  Harley got to the contest just in time to see Yogi perform. Instead of the white jumpsuit, he wore fifties-style trousers and jacket. A guitar was slung across his body, and he grabbed a microphone on a stand, his posture reminiscent of one of Elvis’s first concerts. He belted out the lyrics to Heartbreak Hotel. Smiling, she leaned against the bar and watched. Really, he did quite well at sounding like Elvis. No one would ever be able to duplicate Elvis’s distinctive voice and style, but that wasn’t the point anyway. This was more homage than imitation.

  “He’s pretty good,” a low masculine voice said in her ear, and she didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the voice.

  “Yes, he is. Did you make the finals?” She took a deep breath and leaned back against the bar to look up at Morgan. He had a mustache and beard, but it’d never disguise those electric blue eyes or that killer body. A blue pullover shirt molded to his broad chest and tucked into his black shorts. Long, bare legs were muscled and hard.

  “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “Someone blew my cover.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said with all the innocence she could muster.

  “Yeah. What happened to your face?”

  “A little accident.”

  “And your hair?”

  “Even bigger accident. So why are you here if your cover’s been blown?”

  “It’s the damnedest thing. I got assigned to keep an eye on you for the next two nights.”

  “I’ll just bet. You should have been on the job a little earlier. You might have caught the killer.”

  “I’d heard that.”

  “Which explains your presence here, of course. And I thought it might be my charm.”

  Morgan’s mouth tilted. “So who rescued you this time?”

  “Well now, it’s the damnedest thing. No one. The killer got the worst of the deal and took off for parts unknown.”

  “So now you think you can take care of yourself just fine, I see.”

  “I don’t do too badly.”

  He blew out a disgusted sigh that was far too reminiscent of those she heard from Bobby. “Riiight. Never mind,” he added when she put her hands on her hips, “just think of me as your temporary bodyguard, here to guard your body.”

  “Guard my body? I assume you don’t mean in the more familiar manner.”

  “That part’s up to you.”

  “Odd, I don’t
remember being given that option before.”

  Morgan just looked at her. A tingle went to her toes. She tried to think of something smart to say, but all that came out was, “What happened to my other bodyguard?”

  “He’s off-duty. I’ve been assigned to keep you safe.”

  “So who’s going to keep me safe from you?”

  “You’re safe. For now.”

  That could be either ominous or promising, and as she was trying to decide which, music crashed in the room, people clapped appreciation, and up on the stage Yogi caught a pair of what looked like panties flung at him. Harley stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly a few times. Maybe he heard her, since he looked in the direction of the bar and grinned. Really, Yogi certainly knew how to have a good time. In fact, she couldn’t recall when her parents worried a lot about life events, though they did protest those they disliked.

  Often vehemently.

  She looked back at Mike.

  His attention was no longer on her. Something across the room had caught his eye, and he looked suddenly intent, muscles taut. He said, “Don’t go anywhere yet,” and disappeared into the crowd that surged back and forth toward the stage like ocean surf.

  Harley put her hands on her hips. So much for watching out for her. Any bodyguard who got distracted so easily needed to be guarding someone else. She headed toward the right side of the stage, where Diva should be. Her mother’s shining pale hair stood out in the crowd, swinging from the crown of her head down her back in a French braid. Stray wisps framed her face when she turned to look at Harley.

  “I knew you’d make it here in time.”

  “Then you were the only one. I probably broke ten traffic laws getting here.”

  Diva put an arm around her shoulders. “And now you’re here.”

  “Is Yogi going to win?”

  “Yes, but not the competition. Don’t worry. It really will be all right.”

  “Okay. Uh, did you notice my face, by any chance?”

  Diva smiled. “Don’t you feel better knowing that you didn’t need to be rescued?”

  “Actually, yes. I do. Not only did I get to say an In your face to Bobby as well as Morgan, I feel like I finally managed to redeem myself.”

  “The ways of the universe are many and mysterious.”

  At times, Harley expected her mother to add Grasshopper at the end of her sentences. But she only replied, “They must be.”

  “Would you like to come to a yoga class next week? We’re having it in the living room.”

  “No, thanks. Turning myself into a human pretzel has never been one of my favorite activities.”

  “A pity. You were very limber as a child. It would do a lot to relax you. And I’m serving willow bark tea.”

  Ugh. “That’s just aspirin in its liquid form. You may need it after the class.”

  Diva smiled her serene smile, and then turned as Yogi reached them. Elation put a big grin on his face. “That was my best performance ever!”

  “It certainly was,” Diva agreed. “Soon, everyone will remember you.”

  Yogi looked pleased and Harley had an uneasy flash of memory. Diva had said that before, and it hadn’t exactly sounded like a good thing. But maybe it’d be all right. Or maybe not.

  “Don’t go to the vigil,” she said abruptly to her father.

  Yogi blinked. “Why not? It’s an honor, all five finalists leading thousands to the garden. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

  Harley honestly couldn’t say why she felt a sense of foreboding. That was more Diva’s specialty. But Diva devoutly believed in good karma and the universe. Harley didn’t.

  “I don’t know,” she said when it seemed like Yogi really did expect an answer.

  He came close and patted her on the shoulder.

  “That’s all right, sunshine. I don’t have to win. This has been my best performance ever, and I’m happy.”

  Harley looked to her mother for confirmation, but Diva wasn’t much help. Even in the dim lights of the club, with all the din and chaos around them, Diva looked serene and beautiful. It was easy to see her as she’d always seen her mother, beautiful, almost mystical, with a graceful way of moving confidently through the world, as if nothing or no one could rattle her. Maybe that’s what Harley should strive for, that sense of peace with herself and her world. So far, it eluded her. But that didn’t mean it always would.

  “Yogi,” Eric said, shouldering his way through the crowd, “you’re the king, dude. You’re the king.” He and Yogi did that hand thing Harley never could quite figure out, not that she had the least desire to do so. Then Eric looked over at her. “Cool chick. Who’s been chewing on your hair?”

  “I can’t believe you have the nerve to say anything to me about my hair. Especially when you look like you’ve been peed on by a rainbow.”

  Eric stroked a hand across his hair, bright blue and yellow streaks vivid against his natural dark brown. “You don’t like it? It’s only temporary.”

  “Keep dying your hair and it’ll be only temporary, too.” Harley looked over at her father. “I can’t stay long, only until they announce the winner. Sam’s gone and I have to find him.”

  If anyone would understand the urgency about looking for a lost pet, it was Yogi. After all, it’d been the abduction of the larcenous King that had first sent her entire family into the world of jewelry thieves and murderers.

  “Sam is fine,” Diva said. “He’s with the groundhog.”

  “Groundhog? You mean, like the animal?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Diva frowned slightly. “It just popped into my head so I said it. I’m not sure why.”

  “Good thing I don’t always say what just pops into my head,” Harley muttered, then said, “I’ll see what I can figure out. I’m glad he’s okay.”

  A microphone crackled and popped, and the contest organizer announced it was time to count down to the winner of this year’s competition. All attention turned toward the stage.

  It occurred to her as the tension in the room grew palpable that this was rather like the flip version of Miss America competitions, only without the bathing suit contests. Morgan could have won on looks alone, although he’d probably have been eliminated when it came to the congeniality portion. Yogi would have won that.

  Thinking of Morgan, she wondered just where he’d gone. If he was really supposed to be her bodyguard for the evening, he’d lost track of her body and she was almost ready to go. Not that she was nervous about leaving alone.

  Okay, she was nervous about leaving alone. Recent events suggested it was a bit risky to run around by herself. Whatever this killer’s identity, he had to be certifiably insane.

  The fact that he’d waited for her in the dark privacy of her apartment wasn’t at all what he was supposed to do.

  Either he was changing tactics or getting desperate. Neither of those options made her feel any better.

  Thankfully, her attention was diverted from grim speculation by the excitement from Yogi as only he and Preston Hughes were left as contestants. Hughes had been pitch-perfect, but didn’t have the heart Yogi did. Maybe that was just her opinion—like the opinion she had that the man was probably a bold, vicious killer. He should still be in jail. She hadn’t a clue why he was here as if he had no problems at all, when he should be wearing an orange jumpsuit in a cell with a big guy named Bubba as his significant other.

  Then the announcer named Yogi as the first runner-up, and he gleefully went up the stairs to the stage and took his bow as if he’d just been named Leader of the Free World. It never ceased to amaze Harley that Yogi let few disappointments bother him. The crowd roared its approval of his shimmy, shake, and curl of his upper lip, so that Hughes’s acceptance of the trophy and title of King was almost overshadowed.

  “You were wonderful,” she told her father when she’d finally made her way through the crowd to his side, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If Hughes had
n’t made bail, you’d have won this one.”

  Yogi’s broad grin acknowledged her faith in him. He looked jubilant. “Next year, the title. Tomorrow night, the candlelight vigil. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.” As if she could. She’d already set herself out as bait once, but caught the wrong fish. Maybe this time she’d get it right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Morgan followed her home, driving an undercover car police used to escape notice. Until he showed up at her side as she got ready to leave, she hadn’t seen him since he’d blown her off. He’d had some lame excuse that he’d been watching over her the entire night, but he must have hidden really well.