D.B. Hayes, Detective

by Darlene Scalera; Dani Sinclair

  “I’m going to have mustard nightmares for a week!”

  He opened a door that led to an enormous bathroom. Done in yellow and white, of course. The next door revealed a walk-in closet larger than my entire bedroom.

  “Pay dirt first try. Obviously this is Elaine’s suite. Looks like the couple doesn’t share a bedroom. Funny though, she didn’t strike me as the yellow type. Albert’s room must be next door.”

  He found the connecting door and entered a room that was done in rich dark browns and tans. To my surprise, he turned around and came back into Elaine’s bedroom.

  “You take the dresser over there. I’ll start with the armoire here.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  Every nerve ending in my body was shouting at me to put as much distance between me and this house as humanly possible.

  “Anything. Papers. Keys. Anything we can use.”

  I started to ask for clarification, but one look at his dark expression and I swallowed the words down. He was angry. Furious, even. And intently focused. I tried not to shiver. This side of Brandon made me just as nervous as the side that had stood there so calmly holding that gun on Delvecchi. Brandon might look like a hunky fashion model, but there was a sinister, dangerous side that lurked under that gorgeous surface that frankly scared the heck out of me.

  I have to admit going through someone’s dresser drawers is extremely unsettling. These were Elaine’s personal belongings. She wore this underwear against her body every day. This was wrong. I turned around to tell him so and stopped to watch Brandon run his hands impersonally along the underside of the open shelf in the armoire. The contents didn’t seem to concern him at all.

  He opened the drawer below, barely glanced at the insides, pulled the drawer out, checked the bottom and sides of the wood and then inside where it fit. I heaved a sigh of relief. Okay. I could handle that. I followed his lead, a bit awkwardly, and pulled the drawer from its sleeve while he checked under the bed, turned the mattress and scoured the headboard and footboard. Before we were done we’d covered every single piece of furniture in the large room. Then we moved on to the closet.

  Elaine Russo had more clothing than any woman could possibly wear in a year. And she had an equal number of shoes. If we’d been the same size, I probably could have found a replacement for my damaged outfit and she never would have known. Some of the outfits still had price tags on them, and those tags made my jaw sag.

  “Check every pocket,” Brandon admonished, as if I couldn’t figure that much out for myself, “and inside every shoe.”

  The woman had a lot of shoes.

  At first I wasn’t sure what it was nagging at the back of my mind, but as we worked the closet, something began to bother me. It wasn’t until we moved into the large bathroom and Brandon grinned in triumph that it hit me.

  “Brandon, there aren’t any wigs.”

  “What?” he asked absently.

  He was down on the marble floor doing something to the set of drawers between the double sinks.

  “She wore a blond wig the other night, but there aren’t any wigs or any wig stands. That doesn’t make sense. What are you…? Oh.”

  The shallow drawers swung out of the way to reveal a hidden safe.

  “I don’t believe it. Who puts a safe in their bathroom?”

  “Can you think of a better place? No one breaks in a house to burglarize a bathroom.”

  “Drug addicts?”

  He shot me a look and I subsided. I doubted even a drug addict would have found that safe, and how would he have gotten it open if he had found it?

  “What are you doing?” I asked when Brandon began to study the dial.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to try and open it.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Not if you don’t stop talking.”

  I stopped talking, but mostly because I was appalled and amazed at the same time. No one had taught me safecracking when I was learning to be a detective. I wanted to ask if this had been part of his police training, but he didn’t look like he’d appreciate another question.

  About the time I concluded he didn’t know what he was doing, I heard an audible click. Instead of the door opening, Brandon scrambled awkwardly to his feet, grimacing as he put weight on his left leg.

  “Run!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I tripped an alarm. The safe was wired. The police will be here any minute.”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “You aren’t supposed to hear anything. It’s a silent alarm. Come on. We have to go. Now!”

  I wanted to ask how he knew, but for a man with an injured leg, Brandon could move when he needed to. We all but flew down the main staircase and out the front door, still standing wide open to the hot and by now late afternoon sun.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Behind Trudy’s.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Brandon directed our path across the yard and into the shelter of the tall hedge once more. I’d have thought haste was more important than being seen, because by now Russo already knew we were the ones who had foiled Delvecchi’s plans, but Brandon insisted we not upset the neighbors. It wasn’t the neighbors I was worrying about, but it was tough to argue when panic was clawing at my brain. I had visions of my license being rescinded as we raced to the cars.

  We came out near the street in the same place where I had seen him emerge the first time I’d lain eyes on him, and I nearly ran into his back when he came to a dead stop.

  “That’s yours?” Brandon demanded.

  Since Binky was the only thing in sight, I nodded breathlessly. “Binky,” I said. “My car.”

  He looked at me as if I’d gone crazy. “I know Elaine was keeping me preoccupied that night, but how the devil did I miss you tailing us in that?”

  “Hey, he may be small and he needs to be painted, but he runs. Most of the time.”

  “Glad to hear it. Where’s Trudy’s car?”

  “Huh?”

  But I didn’t really need him to repeat the question. I got it the first time. Hard to miss since Binky was sitting there all by his lonesome. Trudy’s bright blue Pontiac with the happy parrot bumper sticker was conspicuously missing.

  Chapter Eight

  “What am I going to tell Trudy?”

  “I told you, I’ll get the car back.”

  He had told me several times already. What he hadn’t told me was how he planned to go about doing that. I glared at him over the hamburgers sitting in front of us and waved a French fry in his face.

  “Do not patronize me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Dee. If you hadn’t shown up when you did this afternoon, things would have gotten sticky. Despite how it must seem to you at the moment, I am not stupid. I knew when Elaine called me that situation had setup written all over it. That’s why I didn’t want you coming with me. It was okay for me to take a risk, but I didn’t want to put anyone else in potential jeopardy.”

  “The police—”

  “Don’t want me messing in their investigation of Seth’s murder,” he said flatly. “I have a few friends on some of the local forces, but even they think I’m running rogue and dangerous.”

  “Well, du-uh.”

  He managed a small smile. I was still feeling shaky from our narrow escape, and despite his best efforts to clean up in the men’s room at the local restaurant where we were now having lunch—or dinner, depending on your point of view—he still looked like he’d been in a street brawl and lost. We’d gotten more than a few strange looks since we’d arrived. In fact, one couple had actually gotten up and moved after we’d sat down.

  “What happened to the papers Elaine was supposed to give you?”

  “She had to go upstairs to get them. She had them in her hand when she came into the room, so I’m guessing she took them with her when she ran. Delvecchi appeared almost the minute she came back inside the room. He must have been
there all along waiting for her to get them.”

  “She didn’t know he was there?”

  “Not unless she’s a good actress. She took one look at him and her face went white.”

  “Okay. If she took the papers with her, why were we searching for the safe?”

  He leaned back and picked up his burger. “A woman that scared isn’t going to give me originals. She made copies. Where there is one set of copies, there’s probably another set as insurance. We were looking for the insurance.”

  “Uh-huh.” But it made sense. “What made you think you could open that safe?”

  “Keep your voice down,” he instructed.

  Suitably chastised, I bit into the burger that dripped juice satisfactorily.

  I’d chosen a burger place in Rocky River that had once operated drive-in restaurants all over the area, according to my dad. After the day I’d had, my body craved a jolt of cholesterol-laden carbs, and I was in no mood to deny the craving. I took a sip from the rich chocolate shake and tried not to think about calories.

  “My dad used to work the robbery division. He got pretty good with locks and safes. I picked up a lot from him. I wasn’t sure I could open it, but if it proved to be a simple safe, as it did, I figured it was worth a shot.”

  I swallowed in surprise, nearly choking. “Your dad’s a cop?”

  “Retired. Look, Dee, I’ll get Trudy’s car back. I imagine Elaine dumped it pretty quick. I called in a couple of favors, and if it gets spotted, someone will call me.”

  “Whoa. You think Elaine stole Trudy’s car?”

  He looked at me as if I was nuts.

  “You don’t imagine there were two people running around that ritzy neighborhood in desperate need of a car to steal at that exact time do you?”

  I set down my half-eaten burger. “How would someone like Elaine Russo know how to hot-wire a car?”

  He stopped chewing and swallowed. “Good question,” he said slowly.

  I nodded, tamping down a swell of satisfaction. “And why did she need to steal any car? Why didn’t she use the car she came in? Come to think about it, I didn’t see her Jag out front, did you?”

  “No. Did she have her purse with her when she left?”

  I thought back to the running figure and shook my head. All she’d been holding had been a sheaf of papers.

  “We should have searched for her purse,” I said.

  Brandon nodded. “Want to go back?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Sounds like it would be very informative to do some background research on Elaine Russo. Trudy and your aunt didn’t happen to mention her maiden name by any chance, did they?”

  He spoke as if we were a team.

  “No, but I can call them.”

  “Go ahead. We’ll finish eating and go over to my office and run her name through the computer and see what pops.”

  “Uh, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Going to your office, I mean.”

  Brandon shook his head. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight today. Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

  “Me?” It came out a squeak.

  “Delvecchi’s probably not going to bother with you. It’s me he wants, but let’s not take any risks.”

  Risks. I was at risk. Was my brain stopped up or what? I’d just made a local gangster with possible mob ties mad at me. I’d broken into his house, broken his window, gone through his wife’s drawers and closets and tried to break into her safe. The wonderfully greasy hamburger suddenly wasn’t feeling so wonderful at all anymore. I pushed the food aside, feeling sick.

  “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “We’re going to nail the bastard.”

  “Could we do it before he kills us?”

  Brandon grinned, making me feel marginally better.

  “That’s the plan, kid.”

  I wanted to argue that I wasn’t a kid, but at the moment I felt about two and I wanted my mommy. Instead I drove us over to my dad’s house.

  “You really need a car with air-conditioning, Dee.”

  “Only a couple of months out of the year. The rest of the time I need heat and an oil job, but that’s life. We’ll be there in a minute, so stop complaining.”

  Brandon argued that he had a place to go, but I pointed out he lacked transportation and I had to be next door to pull stakeout duty on Mrs. Keene’s house again. Abruptly he changed his mind and seemed anxious to come with me.

  “I still think Mrs. Keene should call the police,” he said.

  “You’re preaching to the choir,” I told him. “Convince her.”

  “I doubt the kid’ll come back. Still, it’s strange.”

  “We’re talking about Mrs. Keene, here.”

  “Point taken.”

  Dad wasn’t in when we got there, so while Brandon got cleaned up in the downstairs bathroom, I got my former bedroom ready for him and readied sheets for the pullout couch—not that I figured I’d sleep a wink with Brandon in the same house all night.

  Then I called Aunt Lacy. She didn’t try to hide her relief at hearing from me. Mickey had come in. She’d taken him over to the apartment to see George, who had turned out not to be Mr. Sam either. Mickey had been disappointed on the verge of frantic. His uncle was supposed to come for dinner tomorrow night. He needed Mr. Sam back before then.

  I closed my eyes. Finding a lost cat had never been high on my list of priorities and now it had dropped to just above zero. I felt bad for the kid, but I had real problems of my own. Aunt Lacy went on to say that Mickey had loved seeing the kittens and thought they were cool. And because George and Sam One hadn’t gotten along—and the two of them had made rather a mess out of my poor plant, which Aunt Lacy had thought best to toss out completely—Mickey and Aunt Lacy had taken Sam One to the animal shelter. She hoped I didn’t mind. I managed not to cheer out loud and suggested they might want to take Mama, the kittens and George there, as well.

  Aunt Lacy thought I was kidding. She was already in the process of posting Lost signs for George. She’d decided it was a good idea to take George to the shop now that Annabelle, née Sugarplum, had been returned to Mrs. Crispen.

  “After all, Dee, it would be best if mama cat doesn’t have the stress of having other strange cats around her babies.”

  “Right.” Not to mention my stress levels.

  It was a great relief to learn I’d be down to seven cats in my cat-free apartment building. Maybe I could convince Mickey to take Mama and her kids home with him. His uncle could then have his pick of a replacement for the missing Mr. Sam if we didn’t find the ancient cat.

  “Look, Aunt Lacy, I’d like to help Mickey out, I really would. But I’m a little, uh, busy right now.”

  “Dee, is something wrong?”

  “You could say that. I need to tell you about a small problem. Okay, maybe a big problem. Brandon and I sort of ticked off Hogan Delvecchi and Albert Russo.”

  Aunt Lacy inhaled sharply.

  “I don’t think they’d hurt you or Trudy, but Brandon and I think it’s best to keep a low profile for a couple of days. I’m worried about you going over to my apartment again. On the other hand, we can’t just leave the cats there.”

  I could almost hear her spine straighten.

  “I’ll be perfectly fine to take care of the cats, Dee. You see to it Brandon takes care of you.”

  My own spine straightened. “I can take care of myself, Aunt Lacy.”

  There was a long pause. “You remind me more and more of your mother every day. You be careful, all right?”

  Surprised, I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me and agreed out loud. I was trembling when I hung up and I couldn’t have said exactly why.

  I found Brandon in the basement with my father when I hung up. I don’t know when he had come home, but introductions were apparently unnecessary. The two of them were setting up planks and talking saw blades like old friends when I appeared.


  “Hey, Dee, everything okay?” Brandon greeted.

  “Fine. I see you’ve met my dad?”

  “Nice to see your taste has improved, Dee,” my dad said. “You really think the quarter-inch blade is better, Brandon?”

  “Yes, sir. If you use the half-inch, you’ll—”

  I slipped back up the stairs.

  MRS. KEENE’S BROWNIES CAME as a shock. They were edible. Except for the icing, of course. I did my best to scrape the dark goo off into my napkin when she wasn’t looking. I could almost feel the sticky sugar boring holes in my molars.

  Brandon had been upset, but Mrs. Keene was ecstatic when I offered to spend the night on her couch. It wasn’t that I wanted to stay there, but I knew I’d never sleep with Brandon in the same house. Besides, he’d insisted on taking the couch at my dad’s place and he didn’t fit. There was no point in both of us not sleeping.

  Dad simply shook his head when I explained the plan. He told Brandon to get used to my hard head because he’d be butting up against it often enough if he decided to hang around.

  Brandon patrolled the neighborhood on foot while I stayed close to the house itself. Neither of us really believed any more would happen after last night, but it gave me an excuse to put a little professional distance between us.

  I was standing out back under the wide branches of the maple tree that all but swallowed her small yard when Brandon walked up, startling me.

  “By the way, out of curiosity, what are we being paid for this job?” he asked.

  “We?”

  “Well, if I’m acting as consultant, like you told her, I should get half, don’t you think?”

  “Half?”

  “Half the work, half the pay.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Fine. Half.”

  “So what are we making?”

  “A hundred.”

  “An hour?”

  “For the job.”

  There was a long beat of silence.

  “You’re joking.”

  My defensive hackles rose. “She’s an old lady and my dad’s next-door neighbor.”