Kiss Me, Kelly

by Mary Kay McComas

  She looked at him, admiring his insight, then nodded. “I took over the bar the very next day. I hired Hildie to help out during the day so I could finish school, and I battled with Papa to shorten the hours. It helped for a while, but Mom kept getting more and more tired. It was almost a year before I could get her to go see a doctor. I think she knew she was sick all along, but…Well, by the time she did go in for a checkup, it was too late to do anything for her. We. had another six months together, but then she—she died. But we had time.”

  Elgin made no comment, yet he gently squeezed her hand and smiled at her with such tenderness, she felt suddenly flustered and ill at ease.

  “I’ve never told anyone about that night,” she said, unusually timid. “You’re…very easy to talk to.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  It was hard for her to maintain eye contact with a man she hardly knew, who kept looking at her as if he understood her innermost being. She looked away, taking note of their surroundings and realizing that they hadn’t much farther to go.

  “I had a good time today,” she said. “Thanks for going with me.”

  He halted in the middle of the sidewalk, stopping her with a tug on her arm.

  “Wait a second. You’re making this sound like good-bye,” he said.

  “In a few seconds it will be.” She indicated the entrance to The Library a few yards away. “You’ll be going back to work, won’t you? When Tommy comes back to get you?”

  “Are you kiddin’ me?” He looked astonished. “After all I’ve been through this morning? Getting Angie to play sick so I could be humiliated at racquetball and suffer your insults, just to get you to finally open up and talk nice to me? You really think I’m going to leave and give you time to rebuild your defenses against me? Think I’m crazy?”

  “Yes.”

  He snorted. He loved the way the gold flecks in her eyes twinkled and sparkled when she was happy. “And here I figured I’d have you so bowled over with my charms by now that you’d invite me to spend the rest of the afternoon with you, maybe have dinner with me before you had to go to work. Someplace dark and expensive, with music and…What I need is a car, so I can come and go when I please. Having to depend on Shaw or getting a unit from the car pool is the pits.”

  “But what about your assignment? The reason you came here? Remember that?” she asked, laughing at his eagerness to spend more time with her. She was flattered, excited, and nervous all at once.

  “Shaw wasn’t exaggerating when he said I hadn’t taken a day off in three weeks. I’ve been a very good boy and I deserve one. And the captain sort of…insisted on it after the Joey Hart bust yesterday.” He realized his mistake when he saw her frown.

  “You never did tell me about that,” she said, as she pulled him back into motion, silently accepting his offer to spend the rest of his day off with her. “And you haven’t told me why you came here in the first place. I’ve already assumed that it has nothing to do with Joey Hart, since his capture seemed to be a surprise to everyone.”

  He laughed. “Well, it sure as hell surprised me.” He stepped in front of her and caught The Library’s front door, opening it wide for her to enter. “For the past two years I’ve been wading through the grit and grime of Chicago, working my way up to a drug trafficker by the name of Torricelli. He brings in about three-quarters of the coke used in the schools, he finances crack houses all over town, and for his own amusement, he dabbles in prostitution. A real pillar of the community.” The contempt and disgust in his voice left little need for her to turn and observe the expression on his face.

  He followed her into the bar, waving in response to a bellowed greeting from Mike Branigan, then sat down opposite her at a secluded table before he continued.

  “Anyway, about three months ago, Torricelli got word that we were on to him and ready to close in, so he disappeared.” He frowned and looked uncertain. “I don’t know if you know how infiltrations work, but usually there’s more than one operative sent in. Sometimes there are several, depending on the size of the operation. Ideally, we go in at different intervals, so that if something like this happens, only the newer guys will come under suspicion. Or if the bust falls through, we still have people on the inside and we won’t have blown all our time and energy on nothing, and we won’t have to waste more time reinfiltrating.”

  “That’s pretty much the way we do it too,” she said, engrossed in his story, unconsciously including herself. He smiled but didn’t mention her slip of the tongue.

  “Nobody’s heard a word from or about our friend Torri in all this time. He could be dead for all we know. But if he isn’t, he’ll come back to Chicago bigger and stronger than before. If we can nab him before that, we can—”

  “Detective Baker?” Hildie called from behind the bar. “Tommy Shaw’s been callin’ for you. If you came back here, I was to tell you to sit tight till he caught up with you.”

  “Thanks,” Elgin said, glancing back at Kelly. He gave her one of his slow, teasing grins. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  There was a secret in his eyes, a message for her alone that flushed heat into her cheeks and made her palms itch with jitters. She got so nervous when he looked at her like that. Not nervous-nervous, but nervous in a good way. As if she were someone special. Someone desirable. Someone sought after.

  “Ah…No one’s seen or heard from Mr. Torricelli,” she said, urging him to continue with his story, praying that she looked calmer than she felt.

  “Oh. Right. Well, we knew that Torricelli and Joey Hart were associates, but we didn’t know if Joey knew where Torricelli was. So the plan was, since I was one of Torri’s inner circle, I’d go looking for him. Supposedly to tell him that the street supplies were drying up and the dealers were trying to find new suppliers.”

  “But now that you’ve arrested Joey, he’ll tell Torricelli you’re a cop,” she said, sounding less concerned about his welfare than by the stupidity of his actions.

  He shook his head. “I never made the connection.” When she frowned in confusion, he explained, “Well, I couldn’t just walk up to Joey Hart and say, ‘Hey, I’m a pal of Torri’s and he’s missing. You seen him?’ Could I?” She shrugged. “If I’d met Joey in Torri’s company or if I knew for a fact that Torri had mentioned me to Joey as someone trustworthy, I might have. But the information about their connection came from an informant, so we had to move a little more carefully. I came to town looking to score big. But in order to get to Joey, I had to start out with a few kilos here and there to win trust. Then I let it out that I was after a really big killing and—”

  “And that’s when you met Joey.”

  “Right. We set up a meet and I was going to mention I was from Chicago and how short the supply was and all, until I could bring up Torri and ask about him.”

  “So, what happened?”

  He grinned at her anticipation. It was better than telling cop stories to his nephews.

  “I met him.”

  “And?” she said, shaking her hands at him in frustration.

  “And we talked. He wanted to know how much I wanted and when and—”

  “Did he tell you about Torricelli?”

  “No. And I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?” She was really confused now.

  “This is the good part,” he said. He laid his hands over hers, not only to settle them but because he liked touching her. “He was called from the room for a few minutes, and of course he left his man there to watch me, but I wanted to take a look around. So, I started talking to this goon and, very casually, I sat on the edge of Joey’s desk. Lo and behold, there it was.”

  “What?”

  “A notepad. On it was a phone number and Torri’s name. I didn’t have to ask about Torri then, because we could trace him through the phone number. This made me happy as hell, because”—his eyes narrowed—“while I was talking to Joey, I noticed this briefcase set off in one corner—a twin to the briefcase on his des
k.” His eyebrows wagged up and down. “Now, it occurred to me that Joey just didn’t look or act like a man who needed two briefcases to transact business, considering the business he’s in. So, I started wondering what he could possibly have in that second briefcase.”

  “Drugs,” Kelly guessed.

  “Or lots and lots of money to buy drugs with. Which meant that he was expecting a big shipment—soon. When he came back, we set up a deal and I left. I ran downstairs and Shaw called for backup while I watched for the delivery man.”

  “You got them both?” she asked in awe.

  “Nope. The supplier got away so fast, we couldn’t even I.D. him. In fact, he beat it out of there so quickly, he left poor Joey holding both bags. The money and about thirty kilos of dope.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet that guy’s getting into some trouble of his own somewhere.”

  “I would imagine,” Baker agreed, watching Kelly thoughtfully. On impulse he asked, “You love this stuff. How come you didn’t become a cop yourself?”

  “For the same reason I’ve never gotten emotionally involved with one, I guess,” she said, then she shrugged one shoulder. “I get a little crazy over the idea of someone shooting at the people I love. Just think what I’d be like if they were shooting at me.”

  “Where the hell have you been, Baker?” Tommy suddenly demanded, striding into the bar. “They let Hart go.”

  “They what?” Baker was halfway to the door before Kelly could get to her feet.

  “Fenner called me to see if you’d heard yet,” Tommy said, his anger rushing his words. “He didn’t have all the specifics, but that scum bag’s attorney came up with some technicality or another, and they let him walk with everything but the dope. And now the captain’s looking for you because Hart’s running up and down the halls screaming that you took some of his money.”

  Baker hit the door, cussing up a storm, but before the door could settle back into place, he reentered the bar. With long, swift strides he returned to Kelly and had her by the arms before she could blink twice.

  “Now I’m really mad,” he said. “I had other plans for this afternoon.”

  “I know,” she said, half-laughing at his disgruntlement, yet concerned about his predicament with Joey Hart.

  “This is another thing you don’t like about a cop’s life, isn’t it?” he asked, already resigned to her answer.

  She nodded. He frowned. Then he pulled her close and kissed her until her knees went weak.

  “See?” he said, grinning proudly. “We have our good points too.”

  Five

  “YOU DON’T KNOW diddly about love… Someday soon, you’re going to be mine… We have our good points too.” Elgin’s words roamed in and out of Kelly’s thoughts all afternoon, into the evening, and throughout her night behind the bar.

  She needed time to think, time to regather her facts and objections to getting mixed up with someone like Elgin Baker. And she did think about him. Hard and long…and with a sappy smile on her face.

  Lord, what was her world coming to? She had the distinct impression that if she kicked herself, she’d laugh. Everything seemed to be inside out and upside down. In her head she knew Elgin was trouble. But in her heart, she didn’t care. He excited her more than anyone she’d ever met. He knew it and took advantage of it too. He was sneaky and manipulative in his efforts to win her over…and she was amused and flattered! It didn’t make sense. But then so few things did, she concluded.

  Kelly knew she had a tendency to value and love unquestioningly. She either liked someone or she didn’t. And when she loved, she loved with her whole heart. She trusted and believed in that person without question or reservation.

  Her feelings for Elgin were something she didn’t understand and wasn’t inclined to question. He made her feel good. He made her laugh and act silly. He made her believe she was sexy and tempting. His touch was pure titillation. He listened to her as if she were someone important. When she was awkward and self-conscious, he enjoyed her and didn’t demean her for it.

  For fifty-nine minutes out of every hour she waited impatiently to hear from him again. During the one remaining minute she would recall the reason for his absence and hope he wouldn’t call.

  In a moment when his occupation was shrouded under his cloak of many bright and delightful colors, she glimpsed him slipping into the bar through the rear entrance. He’d obviously run into Bailey on his way through, as he was carrying a plate full of food.

  She filled a pitcher with beer and placed it and two glasses on Imogene’s tray, while she tried not to appear too intolerant of the time he took to greet several fellow officers. He then stopped to say hello to her grandfather and laugh heartily over what she assumed was some long-forgotten gangster anecdote. Men! What windbags they were, she decided, underscoring the thought with an impatient sigh.

  When he could drag himself away, it again struck Kelly that Elgin Baker was a man who appeared to be in control of every situation he found himself in. He seemed full of energy and purpose. It was as if energy and control were his trademarks. In fact, if a person hadn’t been thinking about him all day, committing to memory his every expression and nuance, she might have missed the slow pace of his steps, the disheartened droop of his shoulders, and the fatigue in the lines of his face.

  Those things caught Kelly’s attention almost instantly.

  He took a seat near the center of the bar and simply stared at her for several long seconds.

  “Damn, you’re pretty,” he said at last.

  Kelly smiled her appreciation for the compliment, though she shook her head at his tenacity. He was asleep on his feet and still trying to seduce her. Her heart warmed to the grown man who looked so like a little boy about to fall asleep in his mashed potatoes.

  “Do you want something to wash that down with?” she asked, indicating the overflowing plate.

  It was after midnight and Bailey had collected a fine array of leftovers for Elgin, in proportions that would feed an army.

  “Do you think a beer would help?” Elgin asked, eyeing the pile of food as if it were a mountain he had to scale. Then he muttered, “I just asked if I could buy a bowl of soup.”

  “Bailey thinks food is a cure-all. You look tired,” she said, setting a tankard of beer in front of him.

  “I am tired. And mad and disgusted…and really glad to see you.” He smiled at her then. “You haven’t gone back to your old way of thinking, have you.”

  It wasn’t a question. She felt like a billboard, a walking advertisement of her own emotions. He could see that he’d been on her mind, that she was glad to see him and as eager to be with him as he was to be with her.

  “No,” she said softly, lowering her gaze from the heated delight she saw in his eyes. Grasping for neutral territory she said, “Tell me what happened with Hart.”

  He groaned and took some if his aggravation out on the soup, stirring it vigorously with his spoon.

  “He walked. His attorney wouldn’t buy my probable cause for entering without a warrant. The second briefcase wasn’t enough. I wanted to go ahead and try it out on a judge, anyway, but the captain didn’t think it would hold and seemed happy enough just confiscating the coke.” His revulsion at the whole incident was quite apparent. “In Chicago we would have nailed his butt to the door.”

  “What about the money?”

  A derogatory snort. “I just spent six hours with a couple of jerks from Internal Affairs, trying to convince them that Hart’s lying if he says there was three hundred thousand dollars in the briefcase when I took it from him. The two hundred and fifty thousand I logged as evidence is all that was in there. Damn it to hell. I wish I’d ignored the briefcase, and simply asked about Torri before getting the hell out of there.”

  Kelly couldn’t remember anyone enjoying time spent with Internal Affairs. She had also come to recognize a certain relief that came with being cleared by that department. Elgin didn’t look relieved.

  “They beli
eved you, didn’t they?” she asked, the conviction in her voice a testament to her own belief in his innocence.

  “Who knows. They might take Hart’s word over mine, but they can’t prove anything.”

  His choice of words, or perhaps the way he spoke them, caused an odd sinking sensation in Kelly’s chest. It wasn’t a suspicious feeling, for she truly believed, deep in her bones, that Elgin was a good cop, a decent man. It was more a sense of uneasiness she attributed to the investigation by Internal Affairs. She wanted to let it go, but it hung around and nagged at her.

  “Why would they believe Joey Hart over you?” she asked. “Everybody knows his reputation.” She listened absently to Imogene’s order for drinks and prepared them automatically, never letting her attention stray from Elgin.

  He hunched his weary shoulders over his food and shook his head. His eyes reflected the dejection in his heart. “Shaw’s doing what he can for me, but…” He made a vague gesture with his spoon.

  “But what?”

  His gaze lowered from hers, and he looked reluctant to speak.

  “But what?” she repeated, setting a half-filled pitcher of beer on the drain board as she stared at him intently.

  “Well, Shaw doesn’t have such a hot reputation over at the precinct house either.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course he does.” She’d heard him quite clearly, but his words made no sense. Tommy Shaw was the best husband, the best father, the best cop she knew. He was also one of her best friends. Pure reflex made her angry and defensive at once. “What are you saying?”

  Elgin immediately surrendered and held up his hands. “I’m not saying anything. I’m only telling you what I heard when I first got here.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “That he was on the take—big time.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Tommy never stole anything in his life. You know him. Does he act like a thief to you?” she asked, outraged.

  “Do I seem like a thief? What exactly do thieves act like, huh?” He swallowed another spoonful of soup, then continued. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think Shaw’s on the take. I think there are some pretty envious cops around who’d like to be able to send their kids to private school and give their wives a house in a quiet neighborhood, and still be able to afford a second-car payment and trips to Disney World in the summer. But it’s not Shaw’s fault that he knows how to manage his money better than the rest of them.”