Murder in the Clear Zone

by Lakes, Lynde

  Bard’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as though the circle were a lifeline. When Cory found out about the inheritance, he’d use it to lock Paula up and throw away the key. Of course, Cory wouldn’t find it out from him. But a determined cop like Cory had his ways of getting information.

  If Fred’s murder was the catalyst that turned Cory against Paula, the letter from Charlie should clear her. Maybe then Cory would admit his mistake and back off.

  Gravel crunched under the tires as Bard pulled into Paula’s driveway. Dogs were barking, birds squawking. The back yard glowed like a night baseball game, and all the lights were on in the house. Bard’s mouth went dry. The front door stood wide open.

  Paula sat up and looked around.

  Before Bard could stop her, she leaped out of the car and bolted toward the house. He grabbed his gun and followed her.

  Paula gasped. Bard looked over her shoulder at the overturned couch, tipped over end-tables, lamps on the floor, stuff hanging out of drawers. Where the hell was the security guard? Outside was a pandemonium. Inside it was deadly quiet.

  With his gun ready, Bard stepped ahead of Paula. Ivanhoe’s empty cage lay tipped on its side; a single gray feather lingered on the gaping door.

  “Iv!” Paula cried. She tried to push past Bard.

  He stuck out his arm and barred her way. Footsteps came from the back of the house. He pulled her down with him as he crouched and aimed the gun. Then he saw it. Steel glinted in the hand that protruded around the corner of the hallway. Gun barrels faced each other…his finger tensed…ready to tighten on his trigger….

  A blur of a man’s face darted in and out of view. “Don’t shoot, Mr. Nichols,” the security guard said. “It’s me.”

  Bard lowered his gun.

  The guard let out an exhale of relief and came forward. His two Dobermans growled with bared teeth. “Sit, Killer, Bruno,” he commanded, holstering his weapon.

  “Where’s Ivanhoe?” Paula asked with a waver in her voice.

  The parrot squawked. The sound came from the kitchen.

  “Iv!” Paula ran past Bard and the guard.

  Bard tucked his gun in waistband of his slacks, and leveled his gaze at the guard. “What happened?”

  The guard raked his salt and pepper hair. The saddlebags under his eyes made him look tired, old. Maybe too old for this kind of work. “The intruders pulled a diversion tactic,” he said, his tone revealing his need to justify his failure to protect the place. “They made a hell of a noise out back and when I went to check, they ran through this place like a tornado. Took ‘em only a coupla of minutes to overturn everything and pull stuff out of drawers.” The guard shifted his weight. “I ran them off before they did much damage though.”

  Bard glanced around and frowned.

  “I was in the kitchen calling the cops when I heard you drive in,” the guard said. “Thought maybe those guys had come back.”

  Bard could faintly hear Paula crooning soothing words to the parrot. “Tell me more about the break in,” he said. “You heard a ruckus inside, then what?”

  “Tried to cover both doors.” The guard stroked one of the dogs. “Bruno, here, guarded the back door, and Killer and I ran to the front. There was a black Lincoln parked across the street, and the driver shot at me.”

  Bard saw no blood. “But you’re all right?”

  “Yeah. Took cover behind a tree.”

  “Get a license number? See the gunman?”

  “Mud covered plates. Too dark to see the driver’s face.” The guard took a couple of gulps of breath. “The two other guys hightailed from the house like someone had given them a hotfoot. I shouted halt. Fired a warning shot. They ran to the Lincoln with my dog Killer on their heels. Before they’d even closed the doors, the driver took off.”

  “Can you identify any of them?”

  “Just a sketchy description. One was wiry, the other bigger, heavier. They wore ski-masks and dark clothing.”

  Bard wasn’t surprised when the guard’s description matched the guys who had broken into their hotel room. “So the cops are on their way?”

  The guard nodded.

  “Any idea what those guys were after?”

  The guard shrugged. “Whatever it was, by the looks of this place, I’d lay odds they didn’t find it.”

  Bard rubbed his jaw. If it was the same guys, they probably knew Paula had the journal with her. Did that mean the game plan had changed?

  ****

  Janus sat in the back booth of the darkened tavern, stabbing his damp napkin with his keys. It was late and a Monday night so most of the local patrons had gone home. Only a fat, wrinkled hooker with orange hair and gray roots, and her sloppy drunk mark remained at the bar. When the hooker let loose with a raucous whiskey laugh the bartender paused from stacking the clean glasses just long enough to give the waitress, who was at the other end of the bar counting her tips, a knowing glance.

  The waitress pocketed her money and slid off the stool, purposely showing some thigh. She sauntered over to Janus with practiced hip-action. “Another Guinness, big boy?” she asked. He knew her glance down at his zipper and slow drawl was supposed to light his jets, but the woman’s tiredness and boredom came through.

  Janus nodded. The waitress put down a fresh napkin.

  He had it in shreds by the time she’d returned with his order. “Got something against napkins?” she asked, slapping down another.

  He glared at her. “No. Against waiting and cheeky waitresses.”

  She pivoted, and gave him a go-to-hell look over her shoulder. Still, as she headed back to the bar, he was positive the saucy swing in her fanny was for him.

  He watched her, stabbing at the fresh napkin, making deep punctures that scarred the table.

  He’d almost finished his second stout Guinness when Lopez slipped into the booth across from him. Lopez glanced at the shredded napkin and after fumbling for the pack of Camels rolled into the right sleeve of his shirt, he flipped out a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. His left eye twitched. Satisfaction surged through Janus, knowing he was the source of the twitch. Lopez frantically patted his shirt pockets then frowned. Janus handed him a book of matches with Gilly’s Tavern printed on it.

  “Gracias,” Lopez said. His fingers trembled as he lit his cigarette. He took a long draw and blew a gust of smoke upward into the air.

  The waitress sauntered over to the table, looking even more bored, her swing gone. “Something for you?”

  “Draft beer.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” she drawled then ambled back toward the bar to get Lopez’s drink.

  Janus waited until the waitress was out of hearing range before taking action. Like the snap of a bear trap, he gripped Lopez’s wrist. “Listen, Stupido. You let the widow out shoot you. Why didn’t you stay and finish the job?” Janus knew the wiry bastard feared his lethal penalty for failure and was probably about to wet his pants.

  “Once the shooting started we couldn’t wait around. Hotel security would’ve been on us like leaches. We wouldn’t be any good to you in jail.”

  “What good are you on the outside? You lost Paula and Bard.”

  “We tried to trail ‘em,” Lopez muttered. “Next thing we knew, we were following a tour bus over the border into Mexico.”

  Janus glared at him. “They’re smarter than I thought. Now we don’t know where they went, or who they saw.” Janus made a clicking sound out the side of his mouth as he often did while thinking. He couldn’t let this setback get to him. “Find them, now!”

  “No problema. Bard’s Z is parked in the widow’s driveway.”

  “They’re back? Good. Find out how much they know and what they’re up to. No more slip ups.” Janus’s grip on Lopez’s wrist tightened, cutting off the flow of blood.

  “Easy,” Lopez said, his face twisting in pain. “We got the widow’s house bugged.”

  Janus let go of Lopez. “That’s more like it.”

&nb
sp; Lopez rubbed his wrist. “I should get mas dinero.”

  “More money? For what?”

  “That damned squawking parrot attacked me, then the security guard and his killer Dobermans chased me to the car.”

  “Hazard pay?” Janus snorted and shook his head. He gulped the rest of his Guinness, needing the bite of bitterness. “A potbellied old coot and a couple of mangy dogs scared you off? Getting soft?”

  “Soft? Diablo en inferno, no. They just caught me off guard.” Lopez gently tapped his bandaged shoulder. “I owe the Bird lady one.”

  Janus snickered. “Maybe next time she’ll kill you.”

  Lopez’s eyes darkened. “She’ll wish.”

  Janus snickered. Paula had made Lopez look bad, demeaned him, and saving face was a priority to the skinny Mexican. “Don’t let this get personal,” Janus warned, although for Janus it was very personal.

  He’d always been taken by the gutsy, Paula Lord, and the more he knew about the young widow the more surprised and fascinated he became, admiring her almost as much as he hated her. Regardless of being obsessed by Paula, or perhaps because of that gut wrenching obsession, she’d pay for the trouble she’d caused him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After the security guard and police left, Bard and Paula straightened up the mess left by the intruders. When they finished, Paula surveyed the living room and sent Bard a tired smile that showed her undaunted spirit. She was amazing, he thought.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said.

  “No big deal. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.” That was the problem. There was more to the breakin than met the eye. He paced. The overturned furniture, scattered books and papers had to be a smoke screen. “I’d give a week’s pay to know the real reason those guys were here.”

  “The police called it malicious mischief,” Paula said.

  Bard snorted. “We both know it was more than that.”

  The police had stayed only long enough to make their perfunctory report. They were shorthanded and overworked and handling the trouble in the clear zone wasn’t a high priority; but it was asking for trouble to put the area on the back burner just because it was a no-man’s land with boarded up homes and houses slated to be torn down or moved within the year.

  Paula took Ivanhoe out of his cage. She sat down in the center of the couch and stroked the parrot’s head, smoothing his gray feathers with two fingers. Ivanhoe’s plumage was glossy and flawless, pupils registering pleasure, contracting and expanding as if in sheer delight.

  “Looks like he’s over his ordeal,” Bard said.

  “He’s calmer now.”

  Hearing the waver in Paula’s voice, Bard slowed his strides, and then paused. Paula looked soft and vulnerable sitting there. He suspected the breakin bothered her more than she let on. Ivanhoe shifted in her lap. The parrot’s claws gripped Paula’s shapely jean-clad thighs. Lucky bird, Bard thought as warmth swelled in his loins. He shook off the surge of desire and momentary loss of concentration, and began pacing again. “I think those guys messed up the place just to throw us off.”

  “You mean they weren’t here to steal things?”

  “Not likely. They must’ve known you had Charlie’s journal with you, so that probably wasn’t what they were after. And they were in all the rooms, yet you say nothing is missing.”

  Paula’s lip quivered. “Just thinking about them going through my personal stuff gives me the creeps.”

  Bard wanted to draw her into his arms, comfort her, but with the heat flaming in his privates it wouldn’t be smart. Besides, he couldn’t get close with the parrot in her lap. “They weren’t here long enough to linger over anything, if that helps.”

  “It doesn’t.” Yet, she squared her shoulders. Paula continued stroking Ivanhoe’s head. She smiled faintly when the parrot twisted around and nibbled at her fingers.

  “That’s why you and your birds have to get out of here. Those guys will be back.”

  Without comment, Paula rose and put the parrot back into his cage. Even after she closed the door and put the stick through the latch, she stood watching Ivanhoe like a loving mother who had tucked her child into bed for the night. Ivanhoe sat on his perch looking like a fluffed up ball, with his leg drawn up. He was softly clicking his bill. When his eyelids drooped closed, Paula covered his cage and returned to the couch.

  Bard watched Paula. He’d given her plenty of time to let his warning sink in. She just sat there looking at him, with that stubborn set to her jaw.

  “Dammit. What do they have to do to you before you grasp fully the danger you’re in?”

  She wrapped her arms across her middle, as though trying to hold herself together. “I get it, but I won’t be bullied or driven out like a scared rabbit!”

  Paula’s mouth flattened to a resolute line, and Bard could feel the heat of her anger, could see it sparking in her eyes. He cursed under his breath and threw his arms up in the air.

  He paced a few more steps then dropped heavily next to her. “Look,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I care about you and even that dingaling parrot over there. I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.” Just touching her soft, warm hands made his heart beat faster.

  She smiled. “You care about Iv?”

  He grinned and nodded. The parrot was a good protector, good as any watch dog.

  “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I should leave.” She took a deep breath. “No promises, but I’ll think it over.”

  “Good.” He’d won a small skirmish.

  Paula smiled as though she’d read his mind, her mouth turning up in an impish way at the corners.

  Without stopping to think, he took her by the arms and kissed her on the lips. By the time he’d realized what he’d started, Paula’s arms circled his neck and their kiss caught fire as quickly as a dry cedar roof hit by Fourth of July fireworks.

  Her lips moved beneath his, soft, sweet, and hot as fudge fondue. Tasting the fiery sweetness made him a little dizzy. Paula’s body curved into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. He moaned and pulled her closer.

  Suddenly a din of squawking birds startled them. Paula looked up at him. “My birds!”

  “Damn. Now what?” He jumped to his feet, ignoring the lingering warm pulse of arousal and ran to the kitchen. Through the back door window, he saw flames licking the roof of one of the aviaries.

  Paula flicked on the yard floodlights. She was right behind Bard as he bolted outside to the hydrant. The handle was gone. “Get something to turn this on!” he shouted. She darted inside and returned with pliers. He wrapped his handkerchief around the hydrant stem and turned. It slipped.

  He tried again.

  Paula yanked the gate of the burning aviary open. Panicky birds with flapping wings streamed out. Crackling fire and bird cries fused in frenzied cacophony.

  Feeling the stress, Bard got a tighter grip on the hydrant stem with the pliers, and threw his weight into the lunge. His second thrust did it. Water gushed from the hose full force. He aimed the nozzle at the blaze. A breeze caught some of the spray and hurled it back into his face. He swore as gusts sent leaping flames licking at the limb of an overhanging oak branch. His heart pounded. He had to douse the blaze before it spread. He broke out in a sweat from the blistering heat.

  “Aim some water over here!” Paula shouted, pointing at the next shelter in the line of fire.

  Bard choked as smoke and burning wood fumes attacked his throat. “Can’t! Or this section will go.”

  Paula ran to the garden hydrant and dragged its hose full length. It wasn’t close enough. The water pressure was too low to reach the flames. She grabbed two buckets, filled them with water, and raced back and forth, tossing water on the adjacent shelter, putting up a good fight.

  Ray Whitney and a guy Bard didn’t know came running across the back field with hose extensions. They hooked them up and helped Paula wet down the other shelters.

  By the time the fire department got there, the
fire was already out. The firemen checked for live embers before they left. During the commotion Ray and the other guy slipped away before Bard could thank them.

  All of the aviaries except two had been spared. Bard and Paula stared at the blackened remains of the lost shelters. Only a short time ago they had been filled with her beloved birds.

  Paula didn’t seem to notice when Bard touched her slumped shoulders. In spite of all she’d gone through in the last few days, he’d never seen her slump before. He guessed there was a limit to what even a tough cookie like Paula could take.

  He yearned to enfold her in his arms and give her the comfort she needed. Instead he moved away, deciding it was safer for her if he kept his distance.

  Bard was rolling up one of the hoses when he heard a loud crack. He glanced back to where Paula stood. She was directly under a charred branch of the oak tree. “Paula, watch out!”

  She looked up, seemingly dazed.

  He dived for her, barely knocking her out of the way as the massive branch crashed to the ground. His lunge trapped her beneath him. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  She shook her head. Little blades of wet grass clung to her hair. His body pressed into her soft, womanly.curves. He shifted his weight, but didn’t leave. “That was close,” he said huskily.

  He closed his eyes a moment. She could have been killed! Thinking of living in a world without her now that he’d come to love her was impossible. Dammit. He cared more for Paula than he’d ever cared for anyone, and he couldn’t even tell her. Her money and his undercover work had widened the chasm between them. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He was stalling, enjoying the feel of her beneath him too much to move away.

  She nodded, moistening her lips. He bent toward her, inhaling her faint fragrance of honeysuckle mingled with smoke.

  Paula moved slightly beneath him. Desire tore at his control, overwhelming him with an all consuming urge to make love to her here in the blackened ruins.

  He took a deep, bracing breath and brought her with him as he stood. Their bodies were pressed close, her heat seeping through his clothes, searing his skin, invading his senses.