Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Hey, Rocky, Bullwinkle, did you guys behave yourselves tonight?” She spoke to them as they swam up to the top. “No wild parties or long distance phone calls?” She picked up a tin of food and gave them each two pieces. They immediately gobbled up their treat. “The perfect roommates. You don’t complain if I get home late or if I take too much time in the bathroom. Even better, you don’t get into my chocolate stash.” She pulled off her jacket and hat as she spoke. “Admittedly, you aren’t company the way a dog would be, but you also don’t use my shoes for chew toys.” She shed her clothing while walking into the bedroom. Normally, she switched on a light since she still wasn’t used to the layout of the rooms and tended to hit her shins on the bed. Tonight, though, Celeste preferred to use the light from the kitchen to find her way around the furniture.

  As she headed for the bathroom, there was a flicker across the window. Celeste froze. She carefully backed against the wall and hugged the surface as she stealthily made her way toward the side of the window. Keeping out of sight, she carefully glanced out.

  The rain made visibility almost nil. If she hadn’t been deliberately searching for something out of the ordinary she would have missed what she was looking for.

  A few yards to the left of the streetlight outside the building she could see a blurry figure that she sensed had no business being there on a wet night like tonight. She hazarded a guess that the figure wasn’t Romeo looking for his Juliet in one of the apartments around here.

  Celeste remained at her post for more than twenty minutes before the figure moved away, then seemed to disappear into the rain. She didn’t move for another ten minutes. Later, as she undressed, she kept her ears open for any strange sounds coming from the hallway and glanced out her window more than once.

  That night she slept very little, even with the knowledge that her weapon was within reach.

  He hadn’t meant to go there tonight, but he’d been curious about her. He wanted to see where she lived. Did she have a lover? Someone who cared about her? Loved her the way she deserved to be loved? He figured out which apartment window was hers. He hoped he’d have a glimpse of her when she returned home. He knew she was home, he was there ahead of her and watched her go into the building. Why hadn’t she turned on her lights? She couldn’t have known he was out there. He’d stayed there as long as he dared. The rain proved to be an excellent, although uncomfortable, cover for him. He preferred foggy nights. But as long as he was able to watch over those who needed his protection, he would willingly suffer whatever discomfort he had to, as long as he could make sure she was safe.

  No matter. He’d come back another night. Hopefully, the next time he was here it wouldn’t still be raining. He hoped he’d have the chance to watch her move around her bedroom while she got ready for bed.

  As he drove home he wondered what color her bedroom was and what she slept in and if her skin tasted as good as it looked.

  He was positive that when the time came she would give him the same glimpse into heaven he’d experienced with the others.

  Chapter 5

  “S unday brunch is nicer when you’re partaking of it rather than serving it, even if your task is nothing more than fixing endless pitchers of mimosas and icing countless bottles of champagne,” Celeste muttered, handing a cold pitcher filled with a mixture of orange juice and champagne to Flip.

  “Cranky,” the young woman teased. “Party too much last night?”

  “I’m too old to party,” she replied. “All I wanted last night was a hot bath and bed.”

  “You’re not that much older than me.” Flip added goblets for the drink.

  “I gave up partying my junior year in college.” Celeste momentarily recalled the reason why, but didn’t explain.

  “What did you major in?”

  “Not partying. Now, go deliver the drinks,” she suggested.

  Undeterred, Flip delivered the pitcher and goblets into the dining room and returned.

  “What was your major?” she persisted, leaning her elbows on the bar.

  “Psychology.”

  Flip nodded. “They say bartending and psychology go together. People will tell their bartenders and hair-dressers secrets they won’t even tell their spouses,” she said sagely.

  “The only secret I’ve learned so far is that Mr. Farr has a sixth toe,” Celeste said. “Not exactly earth-shattering.”

  “I tried college, but it wasn’t for me.”

  She found that curious. The young woman was obviously intelligent, even if she considered an overactive social life her prime objective.

  “Why not?”

  Flip shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed even the freshmen were too young. They acted like they thought college would change their lives. Maybe it would change some of them, but what I wanted to change wasn’t going to happen because of a college diploma.”

  “What do you want to do with your life?”

  Flip shifted from one foot to the other. “You’ll laugh.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.” She held up two fingers in the Girl Scouts salute.

  Flip looked around to ensure no one would overhear her. “Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to be a writer. Not newspaper or magazine articles, but books. I don’t expect to write the Great American Novel, just something people can enjoy and maybe even laugh as they read.”

  “Have you started something?” This did surprise Celeste since she couldn’t imagine Flip sitting down long enough to write a paragraph, much less a novel.

  She nodded.

  Celeste studied her. “Could I read it?”

  Flip looked alarmed, as if Celeste had asked her to strip down right then and there.

  “You’d want to read what I’ve written?”

  “Once it’s published, it’ll be read,” she reminded her.

  “Yes, but it would be read by strangers.” Flip chewed the inside of her cheek. “You’re serious, you really want to read it?”

  Celeste nodded.

  She still looked undecided. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I promise I won’t correct spelling or punctuation,” she teased.

  “Ladies, we need some champagne served.” Paulie smiled at them.

  “My favorite guy.” Flip beamed, not looking guilty that she’d been caught chatting instead of working. She moved around to the other side of the bar and picked up a couple of bottles of champagne. “Off to play Champagne Lady.”

  Celeste gazed at Paulie. She hadn’t seen him the previous night even, when she left. She realized that while Luc Dante was quiet, Paulie was downright silent. Paulie was dressed more formally today in a white dress shirt left open at the throat. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and navy slacks completed his outfit. She assumed he’d been working in the office and didn’t want to dirty the sleeves. His eyes flickered behind his glasses as if he was aware of her regard and not quite sure how to take it.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  “How about some mineral water? Any brand is fine.” He hoisted himself up on one of the bar stools. “How are things going?”

  “Just fine.” She poured mineral water into an ice-filled glass, added a twist of lime and slid it across the bar toward him. “You have trouble-free clientele.”

  “Which you must not be used to.” He waved his hand in the air. “No need to pretend not to hear me. We don’t pry into anyone’s past here. It’s how you are now that counts with us. I’ve heard you have an excellent knowledge of obscure mixed drinks and you know how to keep a proper distance from the customers. That’s a true gift in a bartender.”

  “You gave me a chance, I’m not stupid enough to screw it up,” she told him.

  Paulie smiled. “We’ve all been there, Celeste.” He picked up his glass. “Besides, it looks as if you can keep Flip in line. Anyone who can do that is a treasure. She’s not the easiest person to be around. Some people have even gotten irritated with her.”

  Celeste look
ed over his shoulder to where she could see into the dining room, where Flip circulated among the tables with the champagne bottle. She filled goblets along with a smile and sometimes a word to diners she was obviously familiar with. “She’s a lost child looking for acceptance,” she murmured.

  Paulie nodded at her apt description. “Hopefully, she’ll find her way before it’s too late.” He stood up and picked up his glass. “Mind if I take one of the bowls of peanuts with me?” He reached for the nearby bowl.

  “Of course not. It’s on the house.” She grinned.

  Paulie grinned back. He saluted her with the bowl and walked off.

  “You do know how to charm the men, don’t you, Goldilocks.”

  Celeste heaved a deep sigh as she looked to her right. “I never thought of you as the brunch type,” she remarked, her gaze flicking over Stryker’s black T-shirt and jeans. She wondered what it was with some men and black clothing.

  “Usually, I’m not, but I like to come in and see you actually working.” His grin flashed white in his tanned face.

  “Ohmigod, Celeste, I should have warned you more about this guy even if I do have a major crush on him.” Flip set the empty bottles on the bar. “He’s a cop,” she confided. “He’s being rude, isn’t he?” She made a face at him.

  Stryker raised an eyebrow at her description. “Forget to tip just once and they never let you live it down.”

  “Once? You’ve never given me a tip.”

  “Did so.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did so.”

  “Did not.”

  “Grow up,” Stryker told her with a broad grin.

  “You first,” she shot back.

  “All right, children,” Celeste cut in. “What do you want to drink?” she asked Stryker.

  “Whatever’s on draft is fine with me.”

  For a moment, Celeste thought about serving him more foam than beer, then realized it would only make her look as childish as he and Flip had acted.

  “Flip, the couple at the corner table are trying to catch your attention,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle him.”

  Flip left, but not without giving Stryker a warning glare.

  “How do you do it?” he asked Celeste. “How do you gain someone’s trust so easily?”

  “I don’t have her trust,” she corrected. “She thinks she’s looking out for me since I’m new here. You’re not helping me by showing up here so much.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m practically a regular here. No one will think anything about it as long as you treat me the way you’ve always treated me. You know, like something you’ve found on the bottom of your shoe,” he clarified.

  “I have never treated you that way!” She managed to keep her face composed even as her voice betrayed her displeasure with him.

  “No, I guess you haven’t.” He kept his eyes on her. “Maybe it’s because I like yanking your chain. Don’t worry, Goldilocks, you’re not my type. But I’d say you’re the big bad wolf’s type.”

  “What are you—?” She wasn’t able to finish her question before Luc stood beside Stryker.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother my bartender?” he asked Stryker.

  The detective swung around, resting his arms behind him on the bar. He finished his beer before speaking. “Hey, Luc.”

  “I thought you spent your time off out at The Renegade,” Luc said, mentioning a bar outside of the city limits well known for its biker clientele and what seemed like fights every hour on the hour.

  “I’m going down there later. Had to finish up some paperwork this morning and thought I’d stop by here first.” Stryker lowered his voice. “One of your busboys ended up in the drunk tank early this morning. Del Weaver. He decided to have it out with a patrol officer. He passed out the minute he was tossed into the tank, so no chance to make his one phone call.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I fired him last night and if I hadn’t done it then I certainly would have done it now.” Luc’s tone was hard. “You know my rules. No screwups.”

  Stryker nodded. He stood up. “Walk the straight and narrow, Goldilocks.” He drummed his fingers on the bar before sauntering out.

  Luc turned to Celeste. “Considering why you’re here, I don’t feel it’s a good idea for your boyfriend to hang around,” he told her.

  “One, I know why I am here. Two, Jared Stryker is definitely not my boyfriend,” she corrected him. “He just thinks it’s fun to give me a bad time. What he doesn’t realize is that the day will come when I decide he needs to be punished.”

  “And?”

  “And…” She drew the word out. “He just might find his beloved motorcycle in pieces. Literally. I happen to be very handy with a screwdriver and a wrench.”

  Luc regarded her for so long she had to resist the urge to fidget. The man’s attention toward her was unnerving. For a moment, the memory of the figure standing outside her window last night flitted through her mind. She instantly dismissed the idea that it had been Luc Dante. She couldn’t imagine he would ever stand outside a woman’s apartment building unless it was with the intention to protect that woman. She sensed his very nature wouldn’t allow him to even think of doing anything that might frighten a woman.

  “Why do you do what you do?” he asked in a voice so soft she thought for a second she’d imagined the words.

  She carefully arranged her facial features so they wouldn’t betray her thoughts. “Because someone has to be willing to speak for those who might not have the strength to do it themselves. And to be there for children who need someone on their side.”

  His laughter held bitterness instead of humor. “Contrary to what you hear, some children never have the chance to experience the kind of childhood you see on TV sitcoms. Those children learn early on that the men in blue aren’t their friends.” Like Stryker, he drummed his fingers on the bar’s surface before he walked out.

  Celeste watched him pause in the reception area and greet a party of three couples. He shook hands with the men, smiled at the women, who each acted as if his smile was meant only for her.

  But only she noticed the smile never reached his eyes. She wondered if anyone ever received a genuine smile from him. And she wondered just what had happened to make him so cynical about the world.

  Damn her! Luc hung on to his self-control as he spoke to the Allens and their friends. The Allens had been the cafe’s first customers and had directed their friends there. He was obliged to spend a few minutes making small talk with them, all the while aware of Detective Bradshaw’s eyes on him. He didn’t have to turn his head to know she was watching him. He felt her gaze like a white-hot brand searing its way all the way to the bone.

  Luc was grateful that he could make his way to his office and close the door before anyone decided they needed his assistance. His office might not be large, but then, he didn’t need a lot. It was his place to go when he wanted to be alone.

  Usually, his reason for seeking solitude was overload from too many people. Today was different. He needed this time because of one person.

  He dropped into his chair and just sat there, his fingers idly running back and forth across his mouth.

  Celeste was worming her way into him the way no woman had before. It left him feeling uneasy, because he couldn’t say he didn’t know who and what she was from day one. At the restaurant, she acted her part very well. She was friendly with her co-workers to a point, but made sure she didn’t give anything about herself away. If he hadn’t known the truth, he’d have sworn her soul was as tainted as everyone else at Dante’s Cafe.

  Come on, Luc, let’s name it after you, Jimmy had suggested when they walked through the empty space that a recently signed lease stated was theirs. Think of the drawing power a place called Dante’s Cafe would have.

  Luc had laughed heartily at his friend’s idea. I’ll go along with it just as long as you don’t suggest the waitresses dress up like little devils
or even angels. Let’s not make it too predictable. Let’s go for class all the way, he’d said.

  He’s right, Luc, Paulie had insisted. We can do it up elegant the way you said. We can have linen tablecloths, fold the napkins to look like damn swans or maybe even hummingbirds. We’ll make a statement, like Jimmy said. Dante’s Cafe.

  And that’s exactly what they did.

  The three men worked hard from the first day. They vowed to give anyone who needed a second chance just that. So far, only one employee had disappointed them. Not a bad track record at all.

  And now there was the chance they could lose it all if it turned out Prince Charming had anything to do with the restaurant.

  He couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to dine at a restaurant where a known rapist worked.

  “Hey, boss.” Gina poked her head in. “Paulie said you can’t hide in here all day.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I knew I should have locked that door.”

  “Then I would have had to pick the lock,” she said cheekily. “A customer wants a bottle of that French champagne that costs three hundred dollars, and you have the keys to the cellar.”

  Luc pulled a key ring out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to her. “Stay out of the cognac.”

  She wrinkled her nose and muttered, “I’d rather drink motor oil, thank you,” as she left, deliberately leaving the door open.

  Luc stood up and left the room. He knew it was time to return to what he did best. That was making sure the customers were treated like visiting royalty.

  As he passed the archway leading into the bar, he glanced inside. Celeste turned to hand a drink to a customer. Her gaze snagged his.

  The woman was proving to be way too much trouble.

  Celeste overheard comments about Del all afternoon. Paula’s words were the harshest, and since Celeste had been a witness the night before, she understood why. She wondered if there was another way to check him out when she went into the station the next day.

  Celeste hadn’t worked undercover very much, but she had quickly resigned herself to the fact that resolution wasn’t around the corner and that the crooks didn’t come running to her to confess.