Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Maybe someone did see something, but since it didn’t appear out of place or threatening, he or she didn’t think anything about it,” he pointed out.

  “So what are we talking about here? Could we be talking about someone who’s seen around town so much that he’s overlooked or even seems outright invisible? Like some sort of delivery person? Paper carrier, mail carrier, bottled water delivery person, package delivery person.” Celeste ticked off on her fingers. “Someone who leaves those advertisements on doorknobs or front gates.”

  “Meter readers, gardeners, cable TV repairmen, Animal Control guys,” Dylan added.

  She froze. She turned her head and looked him square in the eye. Her thoughts jumped into her brain at the same time as they both mouthed the words. Police officers. Celeste kept her gaze on Dylan’s face. “I don’t even want to think such a thing,” she whispered fiercely.

  “But you thought it at the same time I did,” he whispered back. He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Celeste grabbed her purse and followed him out of the restaurant.

  “I can think of some officers who are most definitely not saints, but I can’t see any of them doing such a thing,” she said once they were back in their unit.

  “I can’t either, but we both know that doesn’t mean squat.” Dylan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

  “A hunch doesn’t give us anything to act on,” she reminded him.

  He nodded. “We could canvass neighborhoods again.”

  “We already asked if they saw any unknown vehicles those particular nights.”

  “Exactly. We used the words strange and unknown. This time we ask if they noticed a delivery truck or cable truck in the area those nights.”

  “Or a police car,” Celeste murmured.

  “We’ll find a way to bring it into the conversation.” He grinned. “After all, that’s why they pay us the big bucks.”

  “Fine, but let’s finish up with the florists first.”

  “Let’s hope they’re not all like Mrs. Thatcher.” Dylan switched on the engine. “My patented charm can go only so far without driving women mad with desire.”

  “That’s not the way I’d put it,” she said dryly.

  She was so sad. The first thing he noticed was her look of sorrow as she walked into her house. She’d been up late working the night before. She really needed to get some rest. She needed to be pampered.

  She received flowers today and she tossed them into the Dumpster behind her office.

  She needed someone who would truly cherish her. Give her the love she deserved.

  She needed him.

  Chapter 8

  “D el called me last night,” Jimmy announced. “He asked if he can have his job back.”

  The three owners of Dante’s Cafe gathered every Tuesday morning for an informal breakfast meeting. They used this time to discuss any problems that might have come up in the past week. While they worked together every day, they had little chance to sit back and discuss issues unless an on-the-spot decision was required.

  “No,” Luc said flatly.

  Jimmy turned to Paulie, who flashed him a look filled with apology.

  “I have to agree with Luc on this,” Paulie said softly. “We all agreed that if someone was fired for just cause we would never take them back, no matter what the circumstances.”

  “He said Paula had been leading him. She was making him so crazy that he wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “The man put his hands on a woman who’d already told him to stay away from her,” Luc stated in a harsh voice that brooked no argument. “To date, we have had to fire only two people. One for stealing and one for violating his parole.”

  “Yeah, Brett never was too smart,” Jimmy said. “Trying to buy a gun from an undercover cop was sheer stupidity.” He picked up his coffee cup and drank deeply, then looked around. “We get refills, don’t we?” he bellowed.

  The reply that came from the restaurant’s kitchen was less than polite and physically impossible. The few diners in the place laughed as if they were used to the owner’s irascible nature. They all looked grateful it wasn’t directed toward them this time.

  “If you want fancy service with some cute little waitress or starchy waiter, eat at your own place,” Tank rumbled, gesturing to the coffeepot that sat on a burner. “If you want coffee and you have two legs that work, you can get it yourself.”

  Jimmy rumbled a few choice epithets as he slid out of the booth.

  “You still scramble your eggs until they’re too dry,” he told the older man as he filled his coffee cup.

  “That’s right, insult the man who’s feeding us—” Luc muttered, sliding his cup across the table when Jimmy returned with the coffeepot.

  Jimmy filled Luc’s and Paulie’s cups, then set the pot down.

  “A good way to get something disgusting next week,” he added.

  “I saw that write-up about your fancy place in the newspaper,” Tank commented. He picked up a chair from a nearby table, flipped it around and sat down, resting his arms on the back. He cast a telling look at Luc, who pretended he didn’t see it. “You three have come a long way since the day I dragged you out of that jail. I’m proud of you.”

  “Who would have believed street rats like us could come up with a five-star restaurant.” Paulie grinned at his friends and partners.

  “I think it helps that not many people know about our pasts,” Luc said. “We’re just known for giving people a second chance.”

  “So that’s what you call it,” Tank muttered for Luc’s ears only.

  “Luc?” Jimmy looked at him curiously.

  “The boy was in here a couple nights ago—” Tank explained to the other two.

  “I stopped for something to eat on my way home,” Luc interrupted.

  “What the hell was wrong with eating my food?” Jimmy pretended to take offense.

  “The buffet doesn’t serve cheeseburgers. Are we going to finish business?” Luc said swiftly.

  “What, you got something better to do?” Jimmy kidded, sliding back across the bench seat.

  “I’ve got some errands to run before getting over to the restaurant.”

  “And it’s my turn to be there when Carl delivers the flowers,” Paulie said. “He’s also going to replace that plant that’s in the corner near table seven. It’s been drooping more than it should. He thinks we need a hardier plant than what’s there now.”

  Luc kept his expression neutral as he looked out the window. Not that there was much to see when the street was gray and silver from the morning rain. “You’d think the sun had left town.”

  “I used to hate rainy weather,” Jimmy remarked idly. “No way you could break into houses when it was too easy to leave muddy footprints behind.”

  “Not that many people with boats for feet either,” Luc said.

  “No wonder you got caught so much.” Tank smacked him against the back of his head.

  “Back to business!” Paulie begged between bouts of laughter. “I don’t want to keep Carl waiting. His mother keeps him on a tight schedule.”

  Jimmy’s comment about Carl Thatcher’s mother was less than polite. “And I thought my old lady was bad,” he said. He heaved a sigh when he saw Luc staring at him. “Okay, back to business. I’ll tell Del I’m sorry, he can’t come back when he gets out of jail.”

  “He called you from jail?” Paulie asked.

  “He asked me to bail him out,” Jimmy admitted. “I told him no way. Then he offered to work off the money. I told him I didn’t think so. I told him he knew the rules going in. We couldn’t make an exception just for him.”

  “But you asked us anyway.” Luc shook his head in disgust. “We’ve worked our asses off to build up that restaurant. What if he’d done something more serious and he was linked to the restaurant? How good would that look for us?”

  “Something else like what?” Paulie asked, looking at him
curiously.

  “Like—” Luc took a deep breath “—like that guy who’s been raping women,” he said in a low voice.

  The other three men froze at his words.

  “You think this Del you’re talking about is Prince Charming?” Tank asked. He leaned forward. “Luc, do you realize what you’re saying?”

  “Del?” Jimmy sounded incredulous. “Come on, Luc. I read about that bastard in the papers. Could you really see Del doing all that and not leaving any evidence? Hell, there were a few times I had to remind him to wash his hands!”

  “Everyone has a hidden side,” Luc said.

  “No way he can hide it that good,” Jimmy told him.

  “I’m gone,” Paulie announced, getting out of the booth. “Anything else, we can finish up later today. You’ll be in for the dinner shift, right?” He glanced at Luc.

  Luc nodded.

  “I’ve got a produce order coming in.” Jimmy finished his coffee and stood up. “See you later,” he told Luc. “And see you next Tuesday,” he said to Tank. “Maybe you should get a waitress to help with the orders. Not to mention class up the joint.”

  “And maybe I’ll show you where your suggestions go.” Tank bared his teeth at him. He waited until the two men were gone before turning to Luc. “Something tells me they don’t know about the little blond honey you were with or they’d be talking up a storm about her this morning. What’s going on?”

  Luc swallowed a sigh. He knew he’d regret not being the first to leave.

  “Nothing they need to know,” he muttered.

  “Nothing?” Tank repeated. “You were out in my parking lot trading tonsils with the woman. No offense, boy, but she looks a little too high-tone for you, even if she did drink my coffee without flinching. Not to mention she’s a cop, and you and cops don’t mix.”

  Got it in one.

  “Yes, I know,” Luc said irritably. “But it’s not what you think.”

  “I’m not so old I don’t know what it looks like when two people are about ready to jump each other’s bones,” he rumbled as he stood up. “But you can bring her by again. She dresses up the joint and she didn’t bitch about my coffee.”

  A tiny spot deep inside Luc warmed at Tank’s praise. If the man who was called a cold-hearted son of a bitch at best liked Celeste, maybe she was someone he could trust. As long as he made sure not to trust her too much.

  “I’ll make sure to tell her.”

  That small spot was still feeling warm when Luc later walked out of the dry cleaners carrying a week’s worth of laundry draped over his shoulder. A tingle started at the back of his neck and made its way down his spine.

  There was a time when that feeling would have had him running for cover. This time, he tapped into his inner radar and swiveled around to face the source of that unsettling feeling.

  He watched Celeste and Dylan leave a florist’s shop. Their heads were together as they talked. She looked beautiful in a black dress and jacket. Her high-heeled boots added to her innate elegance. Her hair had curl in it, but her makeup was as subdued as she kept it in the bar.

  Rumor has it they’ve hit the sheets a time or two.

  There was a connection between the partners. Luc could almost see the threads between them. He still doubted whether they had been lovers, but there was a coal of unease inside him that was burning pretty hot.

  If Luc didn’t know better he’d swear what he felt was jealousy. He turned away before they could catch sight of him.

  What he didn’t know was that as he strode down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, Celeste’s head snapped up as if someone had just called out her name. She unerringly turned in the direction Luc had gone. She easily found him, and kept her eyes on him until he was out of sight.

  “The boss man?” Dylan asked, looking in the same direction.

  “The man does have a life outside the restaurant,” she said, striving to sound casual. She would have succeeded if Dylan hadn’t known her so well.

  “Loo-cy, what ’ave you done?” he asked in his best Ricky Ricardo accent.

  Celeste threw up her hands. “Wait, I know it. I really do.” She took a deep breath before proclaiming in her best dramatic voice, “Robin Williams, right?”

  Dylan grabbed the door handle before she could, staying her attempt to get into the car. “I saw the look on your face, Bradshaw,” he said. “Now, I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t go to bed with him, but hell, who says the two of you would need a bed.”

  She felt the hot flash of color staining her cheeks. Staring at the car window, she said, “How heartwarming to know you have such faith in me.” She pushed at him to move.

  “I’m on your side, remember? Just don’t set me up to be blindsided because your hormones have gone into overdrive.”

  “My hormones are fine, thank you very much. It’s the case. All we’ve come up with are theories and a lead that so far has led us nowhere. Which means we’re sitting around waiting for the rapist to strike again.”

  “Then, all we can do is hope he slips up. He might even do something stupid like leave his driver’s license at the scene or fall asleep after the act.” Dylan dropped his voice to the soothing tone he used with female victims. Celeste always told him he should have it patented, since it was better than any teddy bear or cup of warm milk. “Just do yourself a favor, okay? The guy you’re drooling after is trouble. He was trouble from the day he was born. An incredibly heavy, sealed, juvenile record attests to that. He goes through women the way you go through your favorite chocolates. I care about you, Leste. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  A tiny corner of her lips lifted in a fleeting smile. She turned sideways, bumping her shoulder against his chest. “Dammit, Parker, you are way too good at this consoling bit.”

  “Maybe that’s why the women fall asleep too soon,” he joked. “Come on, we’ll stop by The Chocolate Cottage on the way back to the station. I’ll even spring for your candy. How does that sound?”

  Her mouth immediately watered at the prospect of indulging in her favorite rich chocolate truffles. “My idea of the perfect bribe.”

  Dylan pulled open the car door for her. He paused when he started to close it after her. He leaned in toward her.

  “Did you ever wonder about us, Bradshaw? Why we never followed through on that night?”

  Celeste knew exactly what he was talking about. A night-long stakeout, too many hours cooped up in a vehicle…and during the early-morning hours, a conversation that got a little too intimate. And she knew exactly why nothing had happened. That kind of chemistry between them just wasn’t there. She considered Dylan her best friend, the brother she’d never had, but she wouldn’t consider taking him as her lover. She knew if they’d made love, they would have lost a friendship that was much more valuable. She’d never regretted her decision.

  After meeting Luc Dante and feeling the heat between them, she understood just what that chemistry between the sexes meant. The idea of Luc Dante as a lover was disquieting and thrilling at the same time.

  She hadn’t given much thought to a love life. Even less to anything that could be considered long-term. She only had to look around the station to know that cops weren’t a good bet in the romance department. Even then, a part of her yearned for something lasting. For the right man to love her.

  She grinned. “That’s easy. I’m way too much woman for you.” She reached past him for the door handle and pulled it closed.

  They found the station quiet when they returned to file their daily report.

  “The Full Moon Pool begins today, people!” Sergeant Griffin announced, walking through the squad room. He held up a dry-erase board marked off into neat squares.

  Everyone dug into their pockets and pulled out a dollar bill.

  “What was the winning time last month?” one of the detectives asked.

  Sergeant Griffin consulted a sheet of paper he also carried. “Barney won with 11-0-7.”

  “Days are s
horter, moonrise will be earlier.” Celeste consulted the chart. She handed the sergeant her dollar bill, then wrote her name in the square marked 10-10.

  “Whatever did we do before Siegfried?” Dylan chose 9-57.

  “Boring stuff like football pools.” Stryker closed his eyes and stabbed at the chart with his forefinger. He wrote his name in the square his finger covered and handed the sergeant his dollar. “I’m off. Somebody stabbed a guy over at the Sierra Woods Apartments.” With a wave over his shoulder, he was heading for the door.

  Dylan watched him go. “That guy is way too cheerful about murder.”

  “More like, too cheerful about catching the murderer,” Celeste corrected, walking to her desk. “It’s your turn to write the report.”

  “But I bought you chocolate.”

  “I should have known you had an ulterior motive for being so generous at the shop.” She logged on to the computer and typed in her password.

  “Your grammar and spelling is better than mine.” Dylan rummaged through his desk drawers until he pulled out a yo-yo. He was soon performing one trick after another to the amusement of the other detectives in the room.

  “You keep that up, I’m calling Mrs. Thatcher and telling her you want to ask her out for dinner,” she threatened silkily.

  “Then I’ll tell her to bring along Carl for poor little you, who’s looking for a good man. And after dinner, we’ll go play bingo.” He easily executed an around-the-world with the yo-yo.

  Celeste shook her head. “Even chocolate wouldn’t be enough to get me to go along with that idea.”

  From his spot in the corner, Luc watched Celeste race through the kitchen. She was still wearing the dress and jacket he’d seen her in earlier in the day. She disappeared into the employee area and within minutes emerged wearing her black pants, white shirt and bow tie with her hair neatly brushed and a light rose-colored gloss on her lips. She stopped short when she saw him.