Return to Fender

by Virginia Brown

  “Harley, do you think you can do something about your cat? I mean, if you’re at home next time I have to spray that’s great, but if not, your cat bites.”

  “Honestly? If I was a cat and saw some big guy in a HAZMAT suit come into my apartment, I’d probably bite, too. But let me know what day you’ll be coming, and I’ll see if I can be here or at least convince Sam you’re not the Abominable Snowman.”

  Arnie smiled. “I didn’t think of that. That he might think I’m scary, I mean. He put a hole in the pants leg of this suit, though.”

  He showed her the hole that Sam had left in the white papery leg of the suit. She nodded sympathy then said, “You know you’re supposed to throw this suit away after using it, right?”

  “Yeah. But it costs a lot of money to keep buying these suits, and Mr. Farley said he ain’t paying for them ’cause it’s stupid.”

  “Mr. Farley is your employer, I take it?”

  Arnie nodded. “Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy. He just doesn’t think I should worry about the bug spray like I do. I mean, if it kills bugs, what’ll it do to me?”

  “I see your point. Are you through spraying? If so, I’ll go upstairs and tell Sarah it’s safe to come back.”

  “She’s a little weird, isn’t she,” Arnie said and picked up the spray canister again. “I’m done. I can’t get to the window in that back room anyway.”

  “Aren’t you going to put your helmet back on?” Harley asked when he stuffed it under his arm. “It really makes the outfit.”

  Arnie grinned and started to say something, but the back door to the apartments suddenly burst open. A swarm of blue uniforms tackled him before Harley could blink or protest, and she was pushed aside as orders were shouted for Arnie to release his weapon.

  “It’s bug spray,” she shouted a couple times without effect. “Hey, hey!” She got close enough to tug at one of the officers, but his reaction was less than desirable. Before she knew it she was flat on her back with a two hundred pound man straddling her. He did not look friendly.

  Fortunately, Mike Morgan chose that moment to arrive, and he convinced the irate officer to release Harley before she flat-lined from lack of air. Wheezing, she sat up and leaned back against the door frame of Sarah’s apartment. She pointed to Arnie.

  “He’s . . . okay. Really. Not a threat.”

  By that time the officers had begun to realize the same thing. They still had poor Arnie spread out on the floor but weren’t standing on him any longer. One of the cops held the canister of bug spray, another had the HAZMAT helmet in hand. The officer had a puzzled expression on his face as he examined the canister of spray.

  “Bug spray,” Harley said again. “He’s a bug man.”

  “We got a nine-one-one call that someone was being assaulted.”

  Harley understood immediately. “That must have been Sarah Simon. I told her to call if I didn’t come back in five minutes. Maybe she heard me yelling.”

  Morgan said, “You were yelling?”

  “Only because I thought Arnie was a prowler or killer.”

  Morgan sighed. “I’m not sure I want to hear this explanation.”

  The other cop said, “Well, I do. We got an emergency call, and there better be a damn good reason for it.”

  Ah. Here came the part where it got complicated. She tried for a simple explanation first. “Sarah thought someone had broken into her apartment. I thought Arnie was a burglar. He’s not. He’s a bug man.”

  “Stop calling me that,” came a muffled voice from the floor, and Harley glanced at Arnie where he was still stretched out like a giant X. “I’m not just a bug man.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Harley. “He’s friends with my brother, too. And he used to work at Taco Bell.”

  “All good reasons to arrest him and throw away the jail key,” said Morgan.

  Harley eyed him. “You’re testy. Why are you testy?”

  “Maybe because I’m tired of finding you surrounded by police all the time. It can get annoying.”

  “Don’t forget that every time I’m with you I’m surrounded by police.”

  “Not surrounded. Just escorted.”

  Harley put her hands on her hips. “I resent the inference. Funeral processions get escorted by the police. Suspects get escorted by the police. Prisoners get escorted by the police.”

  A faint smile twitched one corner of his mouth. “Prisoners get escorted by guards. You get escorted by me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Semantics.”

  “Is that your secret friend?”

  Harley stared at him for a second before realizing he was looking up the stairs. She turned just in time to see Sarah duck back into the apartment and slam shut the door. “Yes. I suppose I should tell her what’s going on. She probably thinks Arnie is a killer.”

  “I am a killer,” said Arnie as he was allowed to get up from the floor. “I kill bugs. Get it?”

  “I get it. Hilarious.”

  Arnie grinned. “Tell Toke I’ll see him at our gig tomorrow night.”

  “If I see him. He does his thing, I do mine.”

  “I hear ya,” said Arnie. “See ya round, Harley.”

  “Gig?” inquired Mike as he followed her up the stairs to the second floor. “He’s in a band with your brother?”

  “If you can call it a band. I call it a train wreck on a stage.”

  “Can’t disagree. I’ve heard his music. So what’s up with your neighbor?”

  “She’s been scared of a prowler. Now we know it was Arnie. She should be fine after I explain it to her.” Harley tried her doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. “Locked. She’s pretty scared. Hey, Sarah. It’s me. Harley. Can you open the door?’

  The last was said to the door, but there was no sign of a response from either. She knocked again, a little louder. “Sarah? Let me in. The police are here, and they caught the prowler.”

  “Here,” said Morgan, and he slid his key into the lock and turned. The door only opened about three inches. A chain lock fastened it to the frame. “Damn. She’s got the chain on. What do you want me to do?”

  “If you’re talking about breaking in, don’t. I have no intention of paying for a new door or door frame. Let me see if I can get her to unlock the chain.”

  After several minutes of coaxing and reassurances, Sarah unlocked the chain and stepped back. She looked anxious. “Did you really catch him?”

  Harley nodded as she eased into her apartment. She felt like any sudden move might send Sarah flying across the room like a startled squirrel. So she spoke calmly.

  “He’s downstairs now. It’s all right—don’t panic. I know him. He’s been hired to spray these apartments for bugs. That’s all he was doing. He wears a mask because he has a sensitivity to the bug spray. His name is Arnie, and he’s harmless. Except to bugs. He was just trying to spray your apartment.”

  Sarah put a hand up to her throat. Her eyes got big. “If he has to wear a mask to keep from being poisoned, why would I want that stuff in my apartment?”

  Harley thought but didn’t say that all the stuff stacked in Sarah’s apartment was probably more toxic than bug spray. Instead, she said, “It’s not harmful in a small amount like spraying your apartment.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good. Are you sure?”

  “It’s never hurt me, and he’s been spraying my apartment too. So, do you feel better about returning to your apartment? Do you need me or Officer Morgan to go with you?”

  Sarah looked blank. “Who’s Officer Morgan?”

  Mike said, “That would be me. I can check it out. No problem.”

  “You’re a policeman?” Sarah squinted at him. “You don’t look like one.”

  “He’s off-duty,” Harley offered. She could understand why Sarah wouldn’t quite believe Morgan was a cop. In his tight tee shirt, light windbreaker, and jeans he looked more like a cover model than a cop.

  Once Mike had checked out Sarah’s apartment to her satisfaction, and she was
safely behind three locks, they returned upstairs. Harley wasn’t sure why Morgan was back so soon. She headed toward her refrigerator, saying over one shoulder, “So—welcome back?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I can’t leave you alone for an hour without you getting in the middle of a situation.”

  “Situation? Like I went downstairs and lured Sarah out? Please. What are you doing back so soon, anyway. I thought you had stuff to do today.”

  “I did. Got it done. Look, we need to talk.”

  Harley rolled her eyes. “Do you have to start off a conversation that way?”

  “Sometimes. I like to get your attention.”

  “You have it. So stop it. It’s annoying.” She grabbed a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator door, popped the plastic top with her thumb, and drank directly from the carton. Morgan leaned against the bar counter that divided kitchen from living room.

  “Remind me to never offer orange juice to your guests.”

  Harley arched a brow. “I don’t have guests. You’re it. Occasionally a serial killer or two. That’s about all.” She held out the carton. “There’s a little left.”

  Morgan finished off the orange juice and tossed the empty carton into the garbage can tucked inside her broom closet. A broom fell out before he could close the door, and he pushed it back into the closet. It tilted forward again, and he shoved it to the back of the narrow closet and slammed the door shut. “Your broom wants out,” he said. “Been riding it a lot?”

  “I’m letting it rest ’til Halloween. And that’s no way to start off a discussion if you want me to be nice.”

  “That’s okay. I like you much better when you’re yourself.”

  “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  Morgan snagged her by the arm when she passed him on her way to the living room. “Hey. I have some info for you if you’re interested.”

  “Info? As in, what kind of info?”

  “About your number one client, Jordan Cleveland.”

  “I’m intrigued. Do go on.” Harley perched on the edge of the stool by the cheap Formica bar. “Although he’s not really my client any longer. I was told to stay away from him, remember? And then there’s the whole dead body in the elevator thing.”

  “Right. Like that’s ever stopped you. First, I want you to promise me that if I give you information, you’ll let me know what you find out and what you’re going to do about it. Okay?”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  He sighed. “It’s even more dangerous if I don’t know where you are or what your plans are. I just want to keep you safe, sugar. If it takes sharing info with you, then I can do that.”

  “Uh huh. What’s the catch?”

  “So suspicious.” He paused; when she kept staring at him he shrugged. “Okay. Here’s the catch. I’m your new partner.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. Listen. You want to find out who’s after Jordan. We want to keep you alive and from screwing up our game.”

  “Aha!” Harley punched a finger toward him. “I knew it! You’re involved in this, and Jordan is under surveillance. Right? Am I right? Never mind. I know I’m right.”

  “There’s only so much we can tell you.”

  “We? As in you and Bobby we?”

  Morgan didn’t say anything. Harley contemplated her options. As much as she wasn’t in any hurry to meet another dead person or even become one, she was in this now, and she had a feeling it wasn’t going to go away by itself. The guy on the roof had made that pretty clear. So, if she accepted the offer, she’d have access to vital info that may come in handy. If she refused, he and Bobby could be very unpleasant.

  “I smell smoke,” Mike finally said. “Are you still thinking?”

  “In spite of your insults and insinuations, I’ll consider taking you on as my partner if you agree to keep me in the loop with any new evidence, give me info in a timely manner, and not treat me like a pain in the ass.”

  “Ah. That last one might be difficult.”

  “Deal with it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He grinned. “And if you cooperate, I’ll get your panties off the ceiling fan for you.”

  She ignored the last. “So what’s the info you have that I might want to hear?”

  “Does the name Johnny Pomona ring any bells?”

  Harley hedged, “Maybe. Why?”

  “Because he’s a pretty nasty guy to be in business with, and your pal Jordan is mixed up with him. It was a dangerous situation for him and now for you.”

  Harley stared at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to share bad news?”

  “Probably because I’m about to share bad news. He was the guy in the elevator. And my sources tell me that he’s mixed up with your client in some shady deal down in Tunica.”

  “This last twenty-four hours has shot my original theory that Jordan was making up things as we went along. At first I didn’t take him that seriously.”

  “It’s serious. It’s real. So now you know.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Yep. Now I know. So if Jordan is mixed up in all this, I wonder why he’s been so insistent that it’s his wife who’s trying to kill him.”

  “No idea. He’s in pretty deep, and maybe he’d rather it be her. I think he knows damn good and well who’s after him. Unless he’s terminally stupid.”

  “That is a possibility.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, then leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “So what do you say about my proposition?”

  “Which one was that again?”

  He blew in her ear. “The one about the panties on your ceiling fan.”

  Harley caught her breath. Damn. It was unfair how quickly he could make her stomach all squishy. Somehow she managed to say, “Yes, it would make me happy if you got my pair of panties off the ceiling fan.”

  Mike murmured, “I aim to please. But I need your help getting both pairs of your panties off the fan.”

  “One pair.”

  He blew in her ear again. “Two in a few minutes.”

  Her breath got short, but she managed to ask, “Don’t you have a job?”

  “Right now you’re my job.”

  Oh, yeah.

  Chapter 10

  “OVID AND RAMA tell me that there’s much trouble ahead for you if you’re not careful, Harley. My spirit guides always know.”

  Harley rolled her eyes at her mother. “Tell Ovid and Rama that I’ve got it all under control.”

  Diva just lifted her brow and smiled. Harley frowned.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what, Harley?”

  “Smile at me like that. Like I’m wrong and just won’t admit it. I hate it when you do that.”

  “The universe moves in mysterious ways. You’ve been warned. I’ve placed the white light of protection around you.” Diva waved a wand of smoldering sage in the air, and Harley coughed.

  “Do you have to do that? That stuff smells awful.”

  They stood in her parents’ living room. Her brother sprawled in a chair with his eyes half-closed. Diva swished the sage through the air a final time then placed it in a wide bowl on the coffee table and gently snuffed it out.

  “You needed this. That’s why you’re here.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Harley. “I came to get my bike. I have some things to do, and I may need a quick getaway.”

  Unperturbed by Harley’s denial, Diva said, “Your subconscious brought you to me for my protection. Your spirit guides surround you. You must use caution. Or—”

  “Or what?” Harley asked when her mother abruptly stopped speaking. She didn’t like the frown on Diva’s face. She saw something no one else could see. It usually meant trouble, but the problem was that it could be as minor as stubbing her toe or as major as confronting a killer. Diva’s visions didn’t always come with instructions.

  “I see darkness all around you,” she said huskily. “You call out, bu
t there is no one there to help you . . . such danger. You must be vigilant for your safety.”

  Diva shivered, and suddenly Harley wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear any more.

  “Chick,” her brother drawled from the chair, “that means you better watch your back.”

  “Thanks for the translation. I never would have gotten that without you,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Chick.”

  Diva put a hand on Harley’s arm. “I sense a spiritual emergency. How do you feel? Do you have tickling, itching, or tingling? Do your hands feel hot? Does your head hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine. My chakras are aligned, and my spine is calm. Seriously.”

  Diva’s frown didn’t ease. “Your spirit guides are with you, but be prepared for the darkness I see beyond the grave.”

  “Beyond the grave? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not as you think. I don’t know . . . it’s not as clear as I would like. I’ll meditate, and maybe it will be explained to me.”

  “Great. Thanks. I think.”

  Diva smiled and laid her palm against Harley’s cheek. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Harley could feel her love, and she smiled back.

  “Who’s the dude in the Beemer?” Eric asked no one in particular. “He looks like he’s been run over by a truck.”

  Even before she turned to look out the window, Harley knew who it was. Jordan Cleveland stepped up on the porch and rang the bell.

  The sound instantly galvanized King, who had been snoozing somewhere in the house but came to full alert at the ringing of the doorbell. Barking loudly, the dog raced through the house and flung himself at the front door. Fortunately, the storm door held, or Jordan would have been flat on his back with the dog licking his face. King may sound like a grizzly bear, but he was actually more of a teddy bear. With really smelly breath.

  Harley grabbed the dog’s collar and dragged him away from the door. “It’s okay, Jordan. You can come in without being eaten.”

  Jordan looked unconvinced. He held his hand against the outside of the door as if holding back a tsunami. “Can you put away the dog? I’m not a dog person.”