“Hi, Hank. It’s Mars.”
“What d’ya want?”
“My house was broken into earlier.”
“D’ya want the shotgun?”
“No, I think the person who broke into my house was a guy posing as a detective. He said he wanted your daughter’s necklace for evidence. He attacked me last night.”
“Fer the necklace? Why’d he want my daughter’s necklace?”
“I don’t know, but . . . Hank, do you think your daughter would know him?”
“Dunno. What’d he look like?”
“Well, it was night so I couldn’t see much, but he had dark hair with perhaps a bit of white at the temples. No facial fair. A roundish nose, but not bulbous. Maybe he was in his sixties, though I’m not sure. Not quite six feet tall but close.”
“What color were his eyes?”
“It was too dark to see.”
“Did they seem different to you?”
“Different? How?”
“Maybe one was lighter or darker than the other?”
“I’m not sure. Why? Do you know who it is?”
After a brief pause, he said, “Nah. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? Because I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight. It’d help if I didn’t have to worry about someone breaking in, especially since I don’t have the necklace.”
“Leave a note on the door.”
“What?”
“Put a note on the door sayin’ the necklace is at my house. Give the bastard my address. I’ll take care of him.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Then I will.”
“No, you won’t,” I insisted. “Hank, why did you ask about the eyes? Who do you know that has eyes like that?”
“Never mind. It’s just an old man’s mind playing tricks on him.”
“Your mind has never played tricks on you before.”
“Of course it has.”
“Hank, tell me what’s going on. I’m being pulled into too many directions right now, and I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”
“No one asked you to worry.”
“I know, but I will anyway.”
“It’s nothing. I have to go.”
He hung up, leaving me with too many questions and not enough time to sort them out.
* * *
Before the newly formed sessions commenced at the senior center, I decided to brave my house and tackle the mess before the sun set and I was no longer daring.
As I struggled to right the living room couch, footsteps climbed the porch stairs, gaining my attention with each stomp.
A knock on the door.
I tried to reason that knocking was better than forced entry, but my pounding heart wouldn’t listen.
Nervously, I crept over to the door and yelled, “Who is it?”
“Rand. Open up.”
A gust of held breath released as I opened the door and let him inside. He scanned the living room, still in disarray.
“What happened here?”
“Someone broke into my house while I was in the shower.”
“In the shower? Did he—” Rand rolled his hand as if I were to fill in the blank so he wouldn’t have to.
“No, he wasn’t interested in me. I think he was looking for a necklace.”
“Must be valuable.”
“It’s not. It was that necklace that we found at the lot.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it ties back to Hank and Ida’s daughter.”
His brows furrowed. “How do you keep getting mixed up in stuff like this? You have the worst luck out of everyone I know.”
“It’s not my fault. Spooner is desperate for the necklace.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I really don’t have time for this shit.”
“Then go away. I’m trying to clean.” I picked up one of Emily’s nauseatingly pink pillows. I wasn’t sad to see it had been slashed. “By the way, did Emily call you with my new phone number?”
“No, was she supposed to?”
“Yeah, I called her earlier. I figured my message wouldn’t get very far.”
“I’ll deal with her later.” He bent down to pick up another pillow, eyeing it with disgust. “She spreads her shit everywhere.” He tossed it into the garbage heap I had started. “I guess I can stay and help.”
“Really?”
“You can tell me how this happened. From the beginning.”
“Okay. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me later at the senior center.”
“Do I look like I’m willing to help at the senior center?”
“No, but I wanted to check out a new bar and grill later. If you help at the senior center, I’ll buy dinner and drinks.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I’ll come to the senior center, but I’m not helping with knitting or basket weaving.”
“Deal.”
“This bar and grill better be worth it.”
“It will be. They’re our competition. We might as well investigate.”
He nodded. “All right. You’re on.”
I picked up a torn couch cushion and flipped it over, happy to see the other side was in perfect shape. I placed it on the couch, stuffing side down. No one would ever suspect this couch had been murdered.
Murdered with a knife?
The victim’s throat had been slit.
I shook my head, ridding it of my current thought. The two had nothing in common. Yet, whenever I picked up a pillow or cushion, I couldn’t help but see blood instead of stuffing.
Chapter 18
It was the end of a strenuous self-defense class that had everyone limping away. Out of the stunning turnout of fifty students, twenty signed up for the next day of lessons, which included CPR and first aid, gun safety, and concealed weapons permits. The following day they’d finish their security certification and register for their guard card.
Whoever survived the grueling schedule and completed the certifications would be offered jobs. Emily had arrived armed with applications and blank checks to cover all the expenses. While most of the teachers volunteered their time at the senior center, Mrs. Janowski made sure they’d be adequately compensated for their time and last-minute schedule changes.
As soon as Emily and Rand caught sight of each other, both withdrew to separate corners upon which a glaring war commenced.
When it was safe, Rand came over. “Next time, warn me when the leech will be around.”
“I assume you mean me,” Emily said, as she walked past, overhearing Rand’s comment.
“Next time, I’ll call you what I really want, then you won’t have to assume,” Rand said.
Emily sniffed, turning her nose up. “I’m out of here. I have more important places I need to be.”
“Where will you stay tonight?” I asked. “My place isn’t safe.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Since Rand was there to irk her, I wasn’t sure if she was serious or just trying to sound as if she was. “I’m sure you can stay at Mrs. J’s tonight. I think Emmy said she wanted to go home, so Mrs. J has a spare room.”
Emily frowned. “No, thanks. It probably smells old and musty there. I prefer sleeping without mothballs.”
After that statement, I didn’t care where she slept. Why did she always destroy my olive branch?
“You were supposed to give Rand my new number,” I said before she could leave.
“I’m not your secretary.”
“It was in exchange for my help.”
She shrugged. “You found him anyway. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that he pays my salary.”
She scowled at me and then at Rand. “I’m surprised you have money to spend on her wages. When we were married you never had any money.”
“When we were married, you didn’t work. I spent my money however I wanted to.”
&n
bsp; “You’re such a jerk,” she said, then turned to walk away.
“And you’re a—”
I elbowed him in the side. “We are at a senior center.”
“Like they’ve never heard the word before.”
“That’s not the point.”
He gave me the look, the one that said he was at his limit. “I need a cigarette.”
“We’re done here. The instructors and students are all set for tomorrow and the next day.”
“I don’t give a fu—”
I grabbed his arm, pulling him away. “Time for a cigarette. You can smoke on the way to the bar and grill.”
“Fine,” he said. “Stop trying to drag me. I’ll walk willingly.”
I let go. He was certainly prickly tonight. I wondered if it had anything to do with Emily or if it was just a regular day in the life of Rand.
As I followed his long strides out to the parking lot, he said, “You can ride with me. But no talking.”
“Not even about work?”
“Fine, but only about work.”
That was acceptable. I wouldn’t know what to talk to him about anyway besides work. Brett and Emily weren’t exactly topics either one of us wanted to discuss, and I didn’t know what else he was interested in besides work. Maybe I should find out, but now was obviously not the right time.
“Did you meet with contractors today?” I asked as we hopped into the truck and headed down the road.
“Yeah, we’re still on schedule.”
“Great.”
The rest of the car ride was filled with silence and smoke. I rolled down the window for fresh air.
It wasn’t until we reached the bar and grill that he asked, “Why are you helping him?”
“Who?”
“Brett.”
“I’m not. I’m helping T.”
“Bullshit.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
“I’m already regretting it.”
He parked in one of the last spots available. The new bar certainly drew a crowd. Patrons spilled from the packed building into the parking lot as they waited. I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay, not if it meant having to stand with Rand in silence. However, Rand, in his impatience, cut the line and weaved through until we reached a courtyard in back. There was plenty of space outside for those who didn’t mind the brisk chill.
Since I was curious about the place, I decided it was worth an hour of freezing. Besides, Rand had already made himself at home at a corner table and flagged down a server. We each ordered different drinks. Rand chose a microbrew while I opted for something fruity.
“It’s pretty here,” I said, staring up at the twinkly lights. “We’d have enough room outside for a courtyard like this. It’d be great in summer.”
“We can think about it in the spring. Right now, I just want the structure built.”
“Is there enough time to add a door to the side of the building?”
He nodded. “I can make that happen.”
I smiled. “Perfect.”
When the drinks arrived, we both tried them and then swapped. He choked on the fruity cocktail.
“Disgusting.”
I took it back. “I thought it was good.”
“It tastes like kids’ cereal.”
“I know. That’s what makes it fun.”
I dug through my purse to find the little notepad that resided somewhere at the bottom. When I brought it out, I began scribbling notes.
“Do not write the cocktail down in that book.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a biker bar, not a sorority house.”
“You and Hank are no fun. It doesn’t have to be on the menu. But sometimes it’s exciting to have a new drink special. People like to try new things.”
He didn’t look like he agreed, but I made the note anyway. I’d wear him down eventually.
After our first round of drinks, we ordered a second. His was a darker brew and mine was a house special that had a unique twist. Caramel. Once again we swapped to try each other’s. He was not impressed with the liquid caramel. But I was quite content with my choice. With two glasses of alcohol in me, I felt warm and fuzzy until an icy wind rocketed through the courtyard, instantly setting my teeth to chattering.
Rand eyed me with that look again, as if it was my fault the breeze took all the warmth away. “You should wear a warmer coat.”
“I was fine earlier when the sun was shining.”
“I’m not giving you my coat.”
“I never asked for it.”
“I’m not leaving until I finish my beer.”
“I never asked you to.”
He frowned. “Fine, come over here.”
“Why?”
“Just scoot over.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t worth my time to argue with Rand, plus I was cold.
He wrapped an arm around me, but not in a loving way. It was Rand, after all. It was more of a functional stiff arm that didn’t want to touch me yet was willing to make a sacrifice in order to drink his beer. Since he was warm, it wasn’t worth the effort to move even though I felt like a germ he didn’t want to touch.
Many of the other patrons in the courtyard huddled together too. They were enjoying themselves, yet there was something wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was lovely out here and everyone was having a good time. Was I just tired and feeling the effects of the alcohol?
No, it was something else.
I scanned the crowd. Was Spooner here? I thought he might be, yet this wasn’t the same feeling of fear. This time it was familiar, yet anxious. It was an energy that vibrated through me. Was it Rand?
“What’s wrong?” Rand asked.
“I can’t put my finger on it. Do you see anyone familiar in the crowd?”
He stood and then sank back down, wrapping his arm around me once again, this time with a little more care. “Yes.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” He pointed with his free hand, the one that wasn’t currently rubbing my arm.
I followed the path of his pointed finger to find Brett glaring at us.
Suddenly I felt very guilty, even though I had no reason to be.
Brett didn’t move, just watched us with a glacier stare that was directed mainly at Rand, though he was quick to target me as well.
“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” I asked.
“Because you give a shit.” He took a drink of his beer. “If you don’t care, there are no complications.”
“Brett cares. He’s been so busy trying to get back on his feet that I don’t think he’s noticed the floor is crumbling beneath him.”
“Believe me, he noticed.”
“Possibly.” I guess it depended on whether Cinnamon was still around. And I didn’t want to know either way. As it was, a headache began brewing from the effects of the last few horribly long and brutal days. “Would you mind driving me back to Mrs. J’s house? I feel a massive headache coming on.”
“Are you nauseated?”
“No, why? Do you think it’s because of the bump on my head?”
“No, I just don’t want you puking in my truck.”
I should have known. “I promise not to puke.”
With a nod, he stood. “I’ll bring the truck around. Last chance to talk to golden boy.” Rand headed to the front door, cutting through the crowd.
I didn’t want to talk to Brett, yet I did. With the small amount of alcohol I had in me, I figured I’d give it a go. I’d have to be brave sometime. With a deep breath, I stood and walked over to him, trying to ignore his pointed stare that made my insides churn. He was in cop mode, shields fully in place.
“I thought you were working at the strip club,” I said instead of a greeting.
“Why are you with Rand?”
“Why do you have a stripper sleeping in your office?”
“Is that why you haven’t returned my calls?”
Yes, bu
t there were other reasons too. “My phone broke. I told Emily to let you know.”
His gaze softened just slightly. “Cinnamon is being harassed and stalked by a fan. We’ve kept her at the office for now until we can secure a safe place for her.”
I nodded because I didn’t know what else to say or do. My headache grew worse by the second, and it took effort not to clutch my head and cry.
He reached for me. “How much did you drink?”
“Only a couple. I just have a headache. Rand is bringing the truck around. He’ll drop me off at Mrs. J’s.”
His confused expression reminded me that he wasn’t aware of everything that had happened. I wasn’t in the mood to explain. All I wanted was a dark room, a pillow, and a bucket of headache medicine.
I patted his arm, pulling out of his grip. “You’ll have free time soon. We can talk about it later. Right now, I need Rand.”
Brett flinched. The steel glint in his eyes crept back.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You should know that by now.”
He didn’t look like he believed me. Yet, judging from the dark half-moons under his eyes, it could just be sleep deprivation.
As a peace offering, I teetered on my tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. “Rand can’t stand being around me for longer than it takes to drop me off at home. Get some sleep.”
He still wasn’t convinced yet gave me a small hug.
“You never said what you’re doing here,” I said as I waited for Rand.
“Working. They’re one of our new clients.”
Rand blasted the horn. While I couldn’t see his truck, I knew it was him. Even his horn sounded pissed off.
“Don’t go,” Brett said. “I’ll take you home on my way to the club in an hour.”
I shook my head, making it pound harder. Wincing, I said, “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t stay to see his reaction, but I felt it. Whatever gully that divided us before had now widened.
Chapter 19
The next morning, I walked downstairs at Mrs. Janowski’s house, smiling at the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm blueberry muffins.
My headache had diminished considerably, leaving only a slight trace that I was sure a cup of coffee would wash away. Last night, I slept soundly, aided by Mrs. Janowski’s sleep concoction. A good night of sleep had been refreshing. I wished Brett would do the same. Reflecting on last night, he didn’t look healthy. He appeared thinner, almost ragged.
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