“I’ll come over and visit tomorrow,” I said.
“In the afternoon? Remember, I’m in school now so I don’t get home until four.”
“I’ll make sure to be there.”
“Okay,” he said, trotting out the door, his unruly dark hair shifting as a blast of wind caught it. “Bye,” he called to Mrs. Janowski. “Thank you for the cookies. They’re better than Mom’s.”
“Aaron!” Kym scolded.
“It’s nothing personal,” he said, his palms up signaling truce. “You make them with applesauce and other weird stuff. How could any cookie not be better?”
Mrs. Janowski smiled and waved as the two walked down the sidewalk, threads of the cookie debate lingering in the gusting wind. Once they were safely in their car, she closed the door. “Let’s start the meeting.”
“What meeting?” I asked.
“The Fearsome Foursome.”
“Don’t you mean the Fearsome Threesome since Ida is . . . Well, she’s out of town for the moment.”
“Fearsome Threesome? That doesn’t even sound right,” Mrs. Janowski said.
“Sounds rather kinky to me.” Sylvia smiled.
Edna pressed a hand to her heart. “Sylvia!”
“Anyway, sit down,” Mrs. Janowski insisted. “You’re the new recruit.”
“New recruit?” I backed away. “There’s no need. We have Ida to think about, not your new club.”
“She’s the reason we’re forging ahead. I had an epiphany today. The Fearsome Foursome was created to help those in need. Ida is now our client.”
Edna pulled a shirt out of an open cardboard box. “It was for Ida, so it might be a tad too big.”
The T-shirt she raised wasn’t too bad considering their past creations. The black shirt with a number four in the center was surrounded by flames. It was rather eye-catching and almost looked like a superhero logo.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Mrs. Janowski smiled at the shirt. “Aaron came up with the design.”
“He did a good job,” I said. “But I thought we were letting Ida lay low without our interference.”
“We are,” Mrs. Janowski said. “But the girls and I have been talking. We can’t see Ida casually whacking this guy and then burying him. There has to be more to the story, and we’re going to find out what that story is.”
“The only person who’d know what happened is Ida, and she’s gone.”
“She’s not the only person.”
“Then who?”
Mrs. Janowski turned to Sylvia. “Get out that envelope Aaron slipped you.”
“Mrs. J, tell me you didn’t coerce Aaron into helping you. You know how hard it was on Kym the last time.”
She waved off my concerns. “This time the guy is dead. What could possibly go wrong?”
* * *
Footsteps on the stairs alerted me. It was past midnight, and Brett was finally home. I shoved the Fearsome Foursome shirt under my pillow a mere second before he entered the bedroom.
“Hey, sweet thing,” he murmured softly, a smile appearing. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
“I waited up.” Truth was, I couldn’t sleep. “I’ve missed you these past days.”
“And nights.” He peeled off his soft blue T-shirt, revealing a physique that I was content to stare at. After tossing off his pants, he crawled into bed next to me. “I’ve missed you too. Come here.” He lay flat on his back, pulling me into him. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” The response was automatic. It had been anything but fine. However, I didn’t want to talk about it, not in the middle of the night when I was finally able to curl up against Brett. “How was your day?”
“Good, but the new guy needed more training than what I’d anticipated.”
“Is that why you’re home late?”
“Yes. You got my message, right?”
“What message?”
“I asked Emily to call you and let you know.”
“She didn’t. But you should know she wouldn’t.”
Brett sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother. She won’t listen.”
His fingers threaded through my hair as he brushed it back. “Thank you for being patient. I know she’s a bit difficult, but she was Eve’s friend and she’s had a rough life.”
I kept quiet. I didn’t understand what drove him to play hero to a brat, but right now it wasn’t something I wanted to contemplate.
He kissed the top of my head and pulled the covers snuggly around us. “You’re right. The nights have gotten colder.”
“This is just the beginning. By January your Texan blood will be ice.”
“That cold?”
I nodded, my cheek brushing against his chest. “I might have to get out the electric blanket, after all.”
“No need to waste electricity when I can solve the problem.”
“Then you might want to start,” I said, brushing icicle toes against him. He jumped at contact.
With the barest effort on his part, I was flipped onto my back with him leaning over me, his face half hidden in the shadows, the other half bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, making his brown eyes turn onyx.
Brett leaned in, teasing his lips against mine as he playfully tested my patience. I lifted my hand to trail my fingers along his side, following the muscles as they rippled. And just as he was about to deepen the kiss, he stopped.
“Mars, what’s under your pillow?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned back. “There’s something there. It feels like cloth, but not the sheets.”
“It’s nothing. Wouldn’t you rather kiss me?”
The war that played on his face was brief and not at all good for my ego. But I should have known Brett couldn’t resist a mystery. He and Mrs. Janowski were a lot alike in that respect.
That thought scared me.
“What are you hiding?”
“It’s not hiding, it’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
“I need you to be Brett right now.”
“I am Brett. What are you talking about?”
“You’ll go into cop mode.”
“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?” He sat up.
“It’s nothing. I just don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”
“Mars, it’s not nothing. I can tell from your voice. Either you show me what’s under your pillow or I’m taking it.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “You know I only want to help. I love you.”
“I know. I love you too. But I know you’ll overreact.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Since it wasn’t a life-threatening situation, I thought he might be able to keep his promise. Taking the shirt from under my pillow, I tossed it at him.
“What’s this?”
“A shirt.”
“Mars, I’m trying to stay calm as promised, but this isn’t helping.”
“It’s Mrs. J’s latest club. The Fearsome Foursome.”
“You told me about that. You were happy because it didn’t involve you.”
“Now I’m involved.”
“Why?” He leaned back against the headboard.
“Ida is out of commission for a while and Mrs. J needs help tracking a few leads. I agreed because you know how much trouble they can get into under Mrs. J’s leadership.”
“What kind of leads?”
“Just a few questions to a few people.”
He studied me for a moment. “You’re leaving something out.”
“Nothing significant.”
“I can tell when you lie.”
Why did he have to be so good at ferreting out the truth? It was very inconvenient and quite annoying when he used his cop skills against me.
“It’s not that I’m lying,” I said. “It’s just that you have other things to worry about. This is a minor hiccup that the girls and I can manage on our own.”
“Will you
tell me if it becomes a major hiccup?”
“Of course.”
He nodded and lay back down, coaxing me to his side. Stroking my arm, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Within a few seconds, his hand stopped. It grew heavy as his breathing slowed into a slumbering rhythm. I was tempted to wake him but remembered he didn’t sleep the night before and had to be exhausted, which is probably why he decided arguing with me wasn’t worth the effort.
If only I had hidden the shirt better.
* * *
A mug of coffee was poised at my lips as I breathed in the scent, ready to drink its fortifying liquid when someone pounded on my front door. Jumping at the unexpected sound, coffee sloshed down my chin, neck, and shirt.
“Dammit!”
Mrs. Janowski burst through the door. “Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustled over to the television and turned it on. “Hopefully we didn’t miss anything.”
Before I could mount an argument, a commercial ended, revealing an anchor sitting behind a desk looking very official and just a little too excited.
“If you’re just joining us,” the perky anchor said, “we have received word that the former owner of the notorious biker bar known by locals as the Hog has just been called in for questioning. A body was recently discovered by construction workers. No word yet on whether he is a suspect at this time. Details of the victim have not been released. The current owner of the Hog declined to be interviewed.”
A video of Rand rolled. He stood on the Hog’s lot, cameras surrounding him. “You want a statement?” he barked. “Get off my beeeeeep property!”
Lovely.
The anchor returned on screen, frowning. “We will monitor this situation closely and will report as the story develops.” She turned to face a side camera. “In other news, it’s getting cold. Brrrr! What’s in store for us, Leon?”
Mrs. Janowski turned off the television. “The investigators are moving quicker than I anticipated.”
“Poor Hank. He must be beside himself.” I dabbed my shirt with a napkin, but it didn’t seem to help. I’d have to change before leaving. “Do you think they’ll question Jack too?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure if the investigators know how long ago this happened. Jack might have only been an infant at the time.” Mrs. Janowski walked to the door and opened it. “The ladies are coming over in an hour. We’ll continue our own investigation then. You know what to do.”
“Yes,” I sighed. “I’ll be over after I meet with Rand. From our last couple of conversations, it should only take five minutes until he bites my head off.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Chapter 6
After changing my coffee-soaked clothes and driving across town to a family restaurant known for its pumpkin pancakes, I slid into the booth and faced Rand.
“When I promised to help flip this bad turn of events, I didn’t think you were going to sabotage my efforts.”
Rand’s gaze rose from the menu to me. “What?”
“You told the media to get off your property.”
“So?”
“You weren’t nice about it.”
“They were annoying.”
“You snarled at them.”
“No I didn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard a distinct growl as you swore at them.”
“Then you should’ve been there to act as the representative.”
I handed him a stack of business cards. “From now on, give all media my card.”
He inspected the cards before tucking them into his pocket. “They’re nice. When did you get them?”
“I ordered them a week ago.” I slid a box of cards to him. “These are yours.”
Rand took one out and looked at it. The barest of smiles touched his lips.
“I’m glad you like them.” Picking up the menu, I briefly scanned it then put it down. “What’s the game plan for today? Did you order the flooring?”
“It’s been ordered. Construction is down for the rest of today, but I heard we’ll be running by tomorrow.”
“Wonderful.”
He nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the box lid. “I might have been a bit of a bear these last few days.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve been helpful.”
I stared harder.
“So, thank you for sticking with me. And . . . I’m sorry.”
I cocked my head to the side to make sure it was really Rand on the other side of the table.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I wasn’t expecting an apology from you.”
“Because I’m a jerk and jerks don’t apologize?”
That sounded like a trap I didn’t want fall prey to.
“I am a jerk, and I damn well know it. I don’t apologize to many people, but you’re different and I need your help with this project.” Fingers drumming on the table, he cursed. “I need a cigarette.”
“Order first, and then go smoke. I’m not leaving until I get breakfast.”
Thankfully, the server arrived at that moment with two cups of coffee and a plate of pumpkin pancakes. She slid the plate in front of me.
He thanked the waitress with an uncharacteristic smile. When she left, he lifted a cup to his lips but stopped when he noticed me staring at him again. “What?”
“You ordered pancakes for me?”
“Don’t you want them?”
“Yes, I just didn’t expect you to know my order.”
He shrugged and took a sip of coffee before placing the mug down. Sliding out of the booth, he stood. “I’m going outside.”
I nodded, feeling very adrift. He tended to do that to me. Every time I was about to lose hope, he would do something nice. At least I knew where I stood with Brett. I understood him.
Rand, not so much.
* * *
After breakfast, I swung by the lot to see if there were any new developments. Rand had decided to go back to his apartment. He had designs to draft for his other company he owned with Brett’s father.
Parked cars lined the road as news reporters gathered in a spot near the police perimeter. I parked along with the rest and walked to where most of the spectators were located near the excavator. The dirt pile that had been there was now dispersed into smaller batches, all numbered with white markers. Forensic workers sifted through a separate mound.
Two familiar faces from the crowd walked toward me. With long, clomping strides, Bob and Mac reached me within a few moments.
“Did you hear the news?” Mac asked, the chains on his leather jacket clanking as he scratched his beard.
“I saw the news this morning. Any new developments?”
Bob shook his head. “Nothing since they carted Hank away.”
“They released him, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Bob said. “He said he’s not coming back to the lot until this is sorted out.”
“Does he know who the dead person is?”
“He has his suspicions,” Mac said.
“Did he tell the police?”
“I think so,” Bob said, turning to Mac. “He looked rough after all the questioning, didn’t he?”
Mac nodded solemnly. “They kept him for a few hours.”
“What about Jack?”
“They talked to him briefly. Seeing as the lot was paved before he was born, they only asked him questions about Hank and Ida.”
“Ida?” I might have squeaked.
“They seemed to be more interested in Hank. But I’m sure they’ll question Ida too,” Bob said.
They looked at each other; a dark, secretive message was conveyed.
“What?” I asked. “You’re keeping something from me.”
Bob shrugged. “We don’t think Hank did it or nothing.”
“But we think he’ll take the rap for it,” Mac said.
“Why?”
“Who else would bury a guy under the new parking l
ot,” Bob said. “Not many people would know construction plans and such.”
“There have to be other suspects. Like the paving company.”
“We’ll see,” Bob said. The resignation in his voice worried me.
Mac nudged Bob. “I think they found it.”
Bob pulled a small pair of binoculars out of his coat pocket and brought them to his eyes. “Yeah, they just brought up a rusted container.”
I snatched the binoculars from him.
“Hey!”
It was a square box, dented and worn. Rust stained most of it.
“Do you think there’s any evidence in there?” I asked.
“If there is, Hank doesn’t know about it.” Bob took back the binoculars.
“I wonder if there’s a way we can look at the contents,” I said.
“Doubtful,” Mac said. “That thing is going to be under lock and key until after the trial. And since none of us are cops, there’s not much of a chance we’ll get to look in it.”
Brett. Would he be able to wiggle his way in through old connections?
I immediately dismissed the thought. He had other things to worry about.
But all of this new information added a potential problem. While Ida was hiding out, Hank was on the hook for murder.
* * *
The ladies gathered around the dining room table again with Mrs. Janowski at the helm, armed with a dry erase marker. A large whiteboard was positioned next to her.
“We need to switch to a defensive strategy,” Mrs. Janowski stated.
Sylvia looked up from filing her nails. “Huh?”
“The cops are ahead of us.” She tapped the marker on the board. “It’s only a matter of time before they arrest someone. We can’t let that happen. Unfortunately, we need more information—especially what’s in that time capsule.”
I raised my hand since it seemed like something I should do. Mrs. Janowski nodded for me to proceed. “I thought about asking Brett if he could find out what’s in the capsule. But once he’s involved, it’ll be impossible to get him out.”
Mrs. Janowski nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s put him on the back burner for now. Edna, what did you find out?”
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