Bear the Heat (Mating Call Dating Agency, #3)

by Lynn Red

  “The chili? Easy. I empty a whole bunch of Wolf Brand into a bowl, and then I put a bunch of cocaine in it. Old firefighter trick. How the hell do you think we stay up all night waiting for calls?”

  “I wondered why my lips were numb,” Breaker said with a smile. “But thanks – this is the best. I can’t think of anything better than being here with a couple of friends and still being alive.”

  Except that I can think of one thing better, he thought. But that’s one thing I may as well not bother with imagining. I’ll just end up making myself crazy for something I can’t ever have.

  “Oh, I can think of one thing better,” Daniels said, almost mirroring the big bear’s thoughts. “And that’s what I have to talk to you about.” He fished the card out of his pocket.

  “What’s this?” Breaker asked, again muffled with chili. “Mating Call? The hell is—oh no, oh no, no, no. No way.”

  “You’ve already got an appointment,” Daniels said. “You go in tomorrow at eleven. I figure that’ll give you enough time to rest up and be presentable. I hear Yvette has quite a terrifying interview process.”

  “You can’t... no way,” Breaker said. “I can’t do this, I’m—”

  “Pitiful,” Daniels said. “Pitiful is what you are. And anyway, I’m your boss and you trust me, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Good, then you show up there at eleven tomorrow. That’s an order.”

  Rogers and Daniels exchanged a quick glance – a wink and a smile – as Breaker grumbled into his bowl. “Fine,” he finally said. “But I’m not gonna like it.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Daniels said with a grin. “We will certainly see.”

  2

  “Well ain’t this a hell of a thing,” Lorelei Roberts, Rory to her friends, was busily shaking a test tube. The liquid inside turned first red, then blue. “Can something be both acidic and alkaline?” she asked. “And if it can, does that mean we’ve got some kind of trace evidence, or does it mean I just screwed up the test?”

  “Probably the latter,” her colleague, Monte, intoned in his standard monotone gravitas. “Are you sure you used the chemicals in the right order? Forensic science is a science after all, not just cooking a stir fry.”

  Rory blew a puff of air out between her lips that sent her straight black hair up in an Alfalfa-like spike before it fell squarely back down across her face. “When the hell did this become more about the process than about detective intuition?”

  “As soon as it was invented.” Monte’s smooth, eastern European accent had a natural twist of constant irritation to it, but beneath his constantly vexed exterior, he was a sweetheart. “You are thinking that when you test the ash, you’re going to find evidence of burn powder? Accelerant? I don’t understand. There is no hint of arson here.”

  Rory squinted, and adjusted her glasses. “No,” she said, “I did it right. Look, I can read the directions, okay?”

  Monte curled his lips in a smile, but didn’t look toward Rory – that would give him away – as he did. “The test won’t show the alkalinity of—”

  “It will if there’s burn powder there, because cured pine shows up acid,” Rory cut him off. “I’m not as stupid as I look.” She stuck the pencil she was using to note the pH of her experiment, back into her hair. “So what are you going to say when I show you this?”

  She held up a chart, with peaks and valleys of acidity and alkalinity intended to show the presence or absence of a very powerful flame accelerant – something commonly used by arsonists to make sure whatever they were trying to burn went up in flames. The test chart which came with the testing equipment, matched exactly the one she’d made with her test.

  “Looks like I’m right,” she said in a sing-songy kind of way. Her voice lilted to match her mood, which oddly was quite good, although she was investigating an arson that could have killed a whole family. “Something tells me I’m about to get an onion bagel with cream cheese and a large black coffee, and something tells me that my good friend Monte is going to go get it for me because I won our bet.”

  “Give me that,” he snapped, this time the disbelief in his voice was actually real. “I don’t believe... I’ll be damned, look at that.”

  The two partners stared, mouths agape, at the chart. “What’s this peak here?”

  “That’s the temperature, I think,” she checked the instructions again, once again adjusting her glasses to see. “Just over two thousand centigrade. That has to be...” she fell silent. “No, it can’t be. How could someone in White Creek get—”

  “Rocket fuel? How in the hell did...” Monte was, maybe for the first time since they met six years before, devoid of any sort of sarcastic comeback.

  “I’m betting they ordered it,” Rory said. “But holy shit, that’s some serious business. That’s not like garden variety idiot trying to burn down a house to get the insurance payment stuff, that’s sophisticated.”

  “Too sophisticated for this backwater burg,” Monte said. His sarcasm was back, which was good because that meant his brain had straightened itself out. “My question is more of a concern of who rather than how. This was someone who wanted that family dead.”

  “Or at least they wanted to make sure we didn’t have any evidence they were ever there,” Rory posed. “Maybe they’d done something in the house? Or they were planning to, and it went bad?”

  “Too many questions, not enough evidence,” Monte hissed. “Too many questions.”

  His serpentine tongue flicked out of his mouth and circled his lips, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Who would want to hurt a family like that? This town isn’t making much sense lately.”

  Ever since they’d been together, getting used to Monte’s snake-like features was a challenge for Rory, who had never much liked snakes. Then again, she couldn’t think of many mink shifters who did. Something about people feeding baby rats to pet snakes had always been a real nasty worm in her guts. She’d gotten over it though. Partially because Monte was one of the best forensic scientists she’d ever known, who had an almost Holmesian ability to sift through mounds of evidence and come up with a solution, but also because in the five years she’d worked at the White Creek Police Department, they’d gotten so close as to be inseparable. He’d taken her under his wing and showed her all sorts of things she’d never known. And for her part, she helped him be just a little gentler and more human.

  Then again, he could be a real prick sometimes.

  “Do the test again, but be more careful this time,” he said. “There shouldn’t be purple tendrils in the water. That means you used too much sample and not enough testing chemical. And in the meantime, I’m going to take a nap.”

  “Mean time?” Rory hissed. “What are you talking about? We just got a break on this stupid thing we’ve been working at for a week! You’re going to take a—”

  “Nap, yes,” Monte said with a smile. “I work best when I’m rested.” His ‘s’ sounds were always drawn out in something of a snake cliche, but it worked for him. It always gave what he said a little bit of a sinister twist that really fit the old snake.

  She sighed in resignation. “Well fine. I guess I’ll get some lunch if you’re not going to do anything useful.”

  “Sleep is useful,” Monte said. “It keeps me fresh and spry and vigorous.”

  Rory went to respond, but he was already asleep. She had no idea how he did this, but was never less than amazed when she saw him with his head slumped slightly forward, and his hands spread on his knees. Somehow, he could fall asleep in any situation at any time, frequently when it was least convenient.

  Still though, he was the best. Something to be said for being so good at something that you can behave in pretty much any obnoxious way you want.

  Rory climbed to her feet and bent over from the waist, letting her fingertips dangle to the tops of her fuzzy-shoed feet. When she was in thinking mode, she needed to be as comfortable as possible, and for this girl, that meant
pajama pants, house shoes that barely passed safety requirements, and frequently not bothering with a bra. At first it had been weird to be in such a state around Monte, but after his continued insistence that she wasn’t his “type” she finally gave in and found him to be completely and totally uninterested.

  It was a good thing, she thought, that they worked in the police department’s basement. No one ever came down here, and the vast majority of the time, they were the only people on staff. Every now and then a visiting specialist would get called in to help with some particularly weird case, or in case they were unable to crack one. It wasn’t often the two of them weren’t able to break a case open, but every now and then, yeah, it was pretty jarring to have to wear a bra to work, which Rory realized was a hell of a funny thing to think.

  She wandered over to the black futon with the Washington Wizards mattress cover that probably dated to the early 21st century, judging from how threadbare it had gotten over the years. It was there when she started, and Monte said it had been there when he started. Another of the great mysteries of life, that cover. Thankfully he was also very serious about both washing it, and making sure no chemicals came through the door to the little lounge area where the futon was.

  Still though, it was comfortable. Rory stretched her legs out and stiffened her toes until both her feet and her hips popped with satisfying crackles at the same time. It wasn’t long before she, too, was drifting off. The best part of being freaky good at something, in her case figuring out the most boring possible minutiae of criminal activity, was that you got to do pretty much whatever you wanted. The problem with it is that you spend your entire life obsessed with the one thing you can do, while ignoring all the things you want.

  There are illusions, she thought as the sheep dancing across her field of vision got fuzzier, lower, slower and more fatly comfortable, that there’s never enough time. Other times she’d think she just wasn’t the relationship sort of girl. It’s not that she didn’t want one, or that she was weird as all hell and couldn’t stand the thought of being tied down to someone, it was that she couldn’t find the time.

  The puffy, jolly sheep settled down on either side of her brain, their woolly comfort lulling her into a state of half-conscious respite. Of all her strange thoughts, and all her anxiety-ridden confusion, she had at least found what she was good at doing, Rory thought. Sleep took her, but not before she had a split-second to consider what life would have been like if she’d picked band instead of mock crime lab for that elective in her junior year of high school. Probably she’d have found her way to the lab anyway.

  Probably.

  There was always a chance though, always that thought in the back of her mind that told her she wouldn’t. She would have ended up normal and happy and content with a couple kids and a big, strong mate, and... yeah, she thought with a smile as she finally drifted off to the first sleep she’d had in a couple of days, so totally not me.

  There was a smile on Rory’s face that twitched ever so slightly on the left corner under her cheek. She let out a soft little giggle as she fell under, which she always did but didn’t know about. When she was safely asleep, Monte opened one eye just enough to take a look, but kept it close enough to shut that his eyelashes masked his wakefulness. He’d been planning this for weeks, maybe even months, but never worked up the nerve to do it.

  Rory let out a soft snort, and then a sigh of rest escaped the rise and fall of her chest. Monte smiled as he watched her – it was true she wasn’t his type... he wasn’t even sure he had a type, though he’d been mated before and had a pair of twins – but he was going to do everything he could to make sure she found who she’d been looking for. She’d never said anything directly, but he could tell there was something sticking in Rory’s nerves. Every time a case came down the pipes that involved kids, a family, or even just a pair of mates, he’d slowly come around to the conclusion that Rory wanted that, even if she never came out and said so.

  After all, it’s something most of us want, he supposed, although he’d never personally gotten very excited over the idea.

  She grunted softly and rolled over, heaving herself onto her other side. Rory’s ponytail fell down onto the futon, and the rest of her faced the makeshift sofa’s back. She was perfectly content right then. Perfectly asleep. Which meant that Monte could finally do what he’d been meaning to do for all that time.

  He picked up the phone off the desk. He couldn’t feel the texture of the receiver through the latex gloves that he always wore out of habit, but he could feel the pressure of the buttons as he dialed. As the phone rang, Monte rubbed his latex-covered fingertips together, enjoying the soft rasping and snapping of the rubber on his hands. He couldn’t help being a little strange – after all, he did poke around dead bodies and stare at hair follicles for a living. It was good he fell into this when he did, because it was either this or becoming an undertaker.

  *

  “Mating Call, this is Dora and I’m ready to Explor-a.” Dora, assistant to the legendary Yvette Lorraine, paused for a second. “I had to say that. I lost a bet with Eve. So, what can I do for you? Wanting us to find someone for you to do?” She snickered at her own joke. “Sorry, I can’t help but say things like that sometimes. It’s occurred to me that you haven’t actually said anything since I picked up so I’m going to shut my damn mouth and wait.”

  A soft laugh escaped Monte’s herpetological lips. “Yes, well, it isn’t for me,” he said softly, making sure not to wake the victim. “My friend—coworker—she is, how do you say it... distracted?”

  “Ah hah,” Dora said. “You’d be amazed how few people call in for themselves. Good thing Ms. Eve hasn’t even the first shred of a confidentiality policy. She says she thinks it makes people more honest.”

  “Oh well, that makes sense,” he said. “Listen, she’s asleep just over there, so I’m trying to keep this quiet and all that.”

  “Oh!” Dora immediately started whispering. “I’ll be quiet. So, what can I do for you?” she bit her lip to keep from telling her favorite joke.

  “Well, it’s my friend, like I said. She’s thirty-three, a forensic scientist who specializes in arson investigation and—”

  “Oh that’s so cool!” Dora almost shrieked. “She’s like Dexter, but I’m guessing she’s not a serial killer on the side?”

  “Not that I know of. Now, she works all the time, like all of us do, and she’s frequently having trouble with communicating like a normal human being. She’s like that skinny man on Big Bang whatever it is. She talks very strangely and sometimes it’s hard to follow what she says unless you have a Ph.D.”

  Dora scribbled furiously. “I see. Bust size?”

  She could almost hear the guy on the other end of the phone blush as he stammered in embarrassment. “I... uh, haven’t a clue how to tell that, is it really—”

  “Necessary? No,” Dora said with a giggle. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Sorry. So, what sort of hobbies does she have? Oh and does she have a name? I’m sure she does, I’m just saying it like that to be funny.”

  A strained laugh came through the phone. “Yes, very funny indeed,” Monte said, flicking his tongue up and licking his left eye. “She has hobbies, I think, perhaps. I don’t know, exactly. I think she likes to play those silly games you plug into a television. Super Mario whoever, and all that. She also reads a lot, and frequently makes dirty jokes that make me uncomfortable.”

  “Are you an alien?” Dora asked. “I mean I’m not judging, there have certainly been stranger things come across this phone line.”

  “No, just a scientist.”

  The guy made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Scientist,” Dora said, still trying to keep from giggling, “right. Got it, not an alien. And she plays videogames and reads. Do you know what she’s looking for in a mate?”

  For a long moment, Monte sat in quiet thought. “Well, no,” he finally said. “I think she’s wanting a man. And I don’t think she’s cho
osy. Yes, I think that’s about the extent of it. And please be quick about it, she’s not exactly at her best these days. She mixed an alkalinity test this morning and completely fouled the whole thing up shaking it when it was supposed to be stirred, and—”

  “Right, the Need-a-Mates,” Dora said. “We specialize in curing that particular condition.”

  “Condition? No she’s just lonely, not diseased.”

  “Er, right, that was a joke. Anyway, I’ve got what we need. Contact number? This one work?”

  “Actually no, let me give you her number. She’s shy and rather prickly about things like this but if you find her someone, she’s likely to be very excited. I’d hate to step in the way of that. It’d be like being in front of a kid on Christmas. I’d be afraid that she’d become irritated and bowl me over.”

  “You ramble just as much as I do,” Dora observed. “I think I like you.”

  Monte blustered. “Yes, well, I need to be going, I’ve got uh... I think she’s waking up, yes, very sorry, must go.”

  Dora once again gave in to the giggles. She wasn’t joking though, she did kinda like the strange, obviously introverted sorts of guy. On the one hand, she wanted to ask him out for coffee sometime. On the other hand... To hell with it, she thought. “Want to get a coffee sometime? Or a drink if you don’t like coffee? Or I guess cake if you don’t like either of those things?”

  She took a deep breath when she heard no response. “Sorry, didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

  “I’d like that,” Monte said. “I... yes, I think I’d like that. Coffee, I like that. But, no... I don’t know. It’s been a long time since, well, that’s more than you probably care to know about me.”

  “I mean, it’s just coffee. If it turns out that I creep you out or something, we can just call it a mulligan.” Dora crinkled her eyebrows. This guy was telling her something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.