Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “So far, the most exotic drink I’ve had to mix is a screwdriver,” she replied. Her smile was a hint brighter than before.

  Paulie looked around. “Mind if I keep you company?”

  “Hey, you’re the boss. You don’t need to ask.”

  He walked around the bar and took a stool.

  “So, other than too many rainy days you’re doing all right?”

  “Getting used to having my own room, privacy and the ability to go where I want to go when I want, yes,” she said, keeping in character for Celeste Bradley, recently released felon, instead of Celeste Bradshaw, police detective. “Working here, fantastic.”

  His eyes were warm with understanding. “That sense of freedom is always what hits you first.”

  “But you, Luc and Jimmy haven’t been in trouble since, when, college?”

  Paulie shrugged. “We just didn’t get caught,” he confessed with laughter. “I think it was more self-preservation.”

  “Understandable.” She leaned on the counter. “Could I ask you a question?”

  He looked wary. “Sure, I think.”

  “Why do you still go by ‘Paulie’?”

  He chuckled. “I guess you’re asking because it sounds more a kid’s name, right?”

  “I always thought anyone named Paulie would eventually go by Paul.”

  He seemed to withdraw. “My father’s name was Paul and I don’t like my middle name. Luc and Jimmy always called me Paulie and it stuck.”

  “I’ve heard it said that women are more prone to keep their childhood friends through adulthood than men are. Yet, the three of you have been friends for, what, forever?” She suddenly drew back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, that’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s not as if it’s a state secret or something. We grew up in the same neighborhood. Jimmy was the bully taking lunch money from other kids. Luc was the one who could smile at a teacher and earn an A, and me—” he took a drink “—I was the quiet one who tried to stay out of trouble.” He chuckled. “And they always dragged me into it.” He finished his drink. “The nice thing is I can hide behind my computer in my office, which is what I prefer. Jimmy’s always in his element ruling the kitchen, and Luc…” He paused. “Well, Luc still charms people. I guess I better get back to work.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for the drink.”

  “Come back anytime.”

  “I just might take you up on that offer.”

  Celeste was relieved when she could issue a last call. And grateful the restaurant didn’t stay open as late during the week as it did on the weekends. She was able to clean up early and finish her logs in short order. She was surprised when Paulie came by to escort her and Flip to their cars.

  “Tomorrow will be better, you’ll see,” Flip said as they walked out to the parking lot.

  Celeste patted her shoulder. “I hope so.” She disengaged the remote locks.

  “Nice car.” Paulie admired the sleek vehicle.

  “I do love police auctions.” She grinned.

  He looked surprised. “You’re kidding!”

  She shook her head. “It was picked up in a drug bust. A friend of mine who’s a mechanic goes to the auctions all the time. Of course, you’re buying as is, and some aren’t in the best condition or have been torn apart. He picks up cars for next to nothing, reconditions them and resells them for a tidy profit. This baby wasn’t in great shape. The interior had been torn up during a search for contraband. But after some tender loving care, I had a gorgeous car for a fraction of the sale price.” She opened the door.

  “A little too much speed for me. I think I’ll stick with my baby.” He gestured toward a silver Volvo sedan.

  “Jimmy was the bully. Luc was the charmer. And you were the quiet, reliable one,” she said. “Good night, Paulie.”

  “Good night, Celeste.” He closed her door after her.

  When Paulie returned to the building, Luc stood in the doorway. Luc’s brow furrowed.

  “She’s nice,” Paulie explained.

  “She’s trouble.”

  “That’s what you say about all women.”

  Luc shrugged. “And so far, I haven’t been wrong.” He looked at the taillights retreating in the darkness.

  He hadn’t missed the faint shadows under Celeste’s eyes or the signs of tension around her mouth. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what bothered her.

  He’d read an account of the rape in the newspaper this morning. Then he’d heard more information about the victim on the radio. How she’d suffered a heart attack that proved fatal. Tonight’s television news had shown her picture—and made his blood run cold.

  He remembered her.

  “I can’t believe you’re back for my coffee.” Tank filled the mug he’d set in front of Celeste when she first sat at the counter.

  “Believe it or not, I happened to be in the neighborhood,” she said. “Do you think I could get an order of fries?”

  “With barbecue sauce on the side.”

  She grinned. “You got it.”

  “Coming up.” Tank moved back to the kitchen. Soon the sound of hot oil sizzling could be heard. “So where’s Luc?”

  “I don’t know.” She drank her coffee.

  “I heard you work at his fancy place.”

  “I bartend there. So Luc comes in here a lot?”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, sweetheart, I ain’t an information desk. If you want to learn something about the boy, you’ll have to ask him yourself.” His laughter was gravelly. “But I guess you’ve already figured out that he doesn’t like to talk about himself. What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’m cute. People like to tell me things.” Celeste studied the jukebox selector on the counter. She put in a quarter and made two selections. The raucous sounds of the Rolling Stones filled the room.

  “A woman after my own heart.” Tank carried out a red plastic basket filled with crisp French fries and a bowl filled with rich spicy barbecue sauce. He filled another mug with coffee. “So what’s your story? Does he know you’re a cop, ’cause I got to tell you, the boy just plain hates cops.”

  She shielded her expression. “Not in this lifetime.”

  Tank shook his head. “Honey, this place is loaded with cops all day long. Sometimes they’ll show up at night, too. You may be pretty and have a smile that makes a man forget himself, but you still have that ‘cop’ look.”

  Celeste’s curse had him laughing.

  “Why are you bartending? You can’t be working undercover.”

  “Why not?” She felt offended.

  “’Cause, darlin’, you suck at it,” he informed her. “How many times have you worked undercover?”

  “Enough, and no one has ever figured it out before.”

  “Probably because they were looking at the outside package.” He stole a fry out of her basket and dunked it in the barbecue sauce, then bit into it. He chewed reflectively. “Not bad.” He took another fry. “I’ll have to pick up some of that hickory-smoke barbecue sauce. Something with more bite to it. Want a cheeseburger?”

  Celeste shook her head. “Just the fries are fine, thanks.”

  Tank looked past her.

  The tingle at the back of her neck was her first warning. She turned around.

  The man standing a short distance from her was the epitome of tall, dark and dangerous. Dressed in black jeans and a black crew-necked sweater and with water droplets silvering his hair, Luc looked like a dark angel.

  Memories of his mouth on hers sent a flame to the pit of her stomach. She quickly turned around and picked up another fry, almost drowning it in the spicy sauce.

  “Tank.” He greeted the older man as he took the stool next to Celeste. “Think I can get a chili cheeseburger?”

  “Don’t you ever eat at that fancy place of yours? Not that I’ll turn down your money.”

  Luc just stared at him.

  Mum
bling about fancy restaurant owners who come to the wrong side of the tracks for dinner, Tank returned to the kitchen.

  “Your first homicide?” Luc asked softly in a voice meant for her ears only.

  Celeste nodded.

  “And it got to you.”

  She nodded again.

  “It wasn’t deliberate. In his mind, he wasn’t hurting her,” she whispered, “except in the end he still killed her.” She drowned another fry in barbecue sauce before nibbling on it.

  Luc reached across her and picked up a fry.

  “What brought you here?” he asked.

  “I was hungry for world-class fries and Tank definitely makes world-class fries.”

  “Damn straight, sweetheart.” Tank didn’t mind letting them know he was unashamedly eavesdropping on their conversation. He ignored Luc’s frown.

  Luc turned back to Celeste. “He knows?”

  “He guessed.” She moved the basket to sit between them.

  “If you were having problems because of last night you could have called in sick,” Luc told her.

  “No, I couldn’t. That would have meant I was running, and I won’t do that.” Suddenly feeling very tired, she pushed her hair away from her forehead and covered her face with her hands. “She never had a chance.” Her words were muffled by her hands. “She worked from home because of her frail health. She had a boyfriend, and tonight her sister is grieving because her baby sister won’t be visiting for Christmas.”

  Luc glanced up when Tank set a plate in front of him. He flicked the bun off his burger and glanced up at Tank, then snapped his glance back down to the burger sans chili. Tank stared at him, glanced at Celeste, then back to Luc.

  “We’re out of chili,” he said flatly.

  With a sigh, Luc picked up the cheeseburger and bit into it. Tank returned to the kitchen.

  “I had seen her at the restaurant,” he said in a low voice.

  Celeste turned her head. “What?”

  Luc nodded. “The woman. I saw her picture on the news late today and I remember her being at the restaurant a few times,” he reluctantly admitted. “The reason I remember her is that she and her boyfriend celebrated her birthday there a couple weeks ago.”

  “So there could be a connection.”

  “Or nothing more than a coincidence,” Luc argued, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  They finished their food in silence while Tank cleaned the kitchen.

  Luc studied the jukebox selector. Then he pulled out a quarter, slipped it in the slot and punched in his choices. The mellow sounds of the Righteous Brothers flowed out of the speakers. He slid off the stool and held out his hand.

  “Dance with me,” he invited in a husky voice that sounded as if he wanted to invite her to do more than just dance.

  She hesitated.

  “Give the boy a break and dance with him,” Tank boomed. “He never got to go to his prom.”

  “You’re not helping,” Luc growled, keeping his dark gaze on Celeste’s face.

  Celeste put her hand in his and slid off her stool. When she stepped closer, he enfolded her in his arms so that her cheek was nestled against the soft wool of his sweater. She fit perfectly in the curve between his shoulder and neck. She slid her arms up and around his neck. She inhaled the woodsy scent of his skin that was mixed with a faint hint of tobacco and just plain Luc. They moved together as one as they swayed across the ancient linoleum. When the song finished, another immediately came on. They had no idea that Tank fed the jukebox several quarters as they continued dancing to music appealing to lovers, or that he turned off most of the lights to add to the atmosphere.

  If Celeste had to describe the moment, she would have said she felt comforted. Even safe. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to flow with the music and just plain forget the past twelve hours. There would be time tomorrow to remember the sorrow she was dealing with.

  When the music eventually stopped, their feet still moved together for several moments.

  “As much as I’ve enjoyed the show, boys and girls, this old man needs his ugly rest.” Tank laughed at his own joke. He shook his head when Celeste pulled out her wallet. “No charge.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No bribing the fuzz.” She dropped the bills on the counter.

  Still not saying a word, Luc picked up Celeste’s jacket and helped her into it. They walked outside to her car.

  “What will you do now?” he asked, finally breaking the silence between them and bringing the present screaming back into their lives.

  “Dylan and I are seeing one of the first victims tomorrow,” she replied. “Sometimes, distance allows them to remember things they might not have thought of before. We’re hoping we’ll be able to talk to all of them. After last night—” she choked the last two words “—they might be more willing. It’s never easy for them to begin with. Hearing that someone has died makes it even harder to get past the trauma.”

  “Why do you do this?” he asked. “Why aren’t you married to some up-and-comer with your two-point-five children and a pedigreed Golden retriever, and spending your weekends at the Sierra Vista Country Club?”

  “Actually, I am a member of the country club because of my parents, but most men in my parents’ social circle aren’t too comfortable dating a woman who’s armed. And I do it just because.” She held up her hand. “It’s not something I can talk about just now, so please don’t ask any more. Unless you’re willing to trade old war stories.” She wasn’t surprised to see the withdrawal in his eyes. “I thought so.” She reached for the door handle, but he beat her to it.

  “My past wasn’t as normal as yours. It didn’t consist of private schools and all the right friends and parties,” Luc said harshly. “I’ve lied, cheated, stolen. I knew every cop and they knew me. You were probably voted Most Likely to Succeed. I was voted Most Likely to End Up in Prison. Believe me when I say I am literally a son of a bitch.”

  Celeste tipped her head back so she could look into his eyes. She wondered if he preferred his black wardrobe because he didn’t believe he could have any color in his life.

  “But you proved them wrong,” she said.

  “Only because that wasn’t how I wanted to end up. I wasn’t going to end up like other kids I ran with. Most of whom are either dead or in prison.”

  “Which must have made your mother happy.”

  The dark fury that crossed his features would have frightened a lesser woman. Even Celeste pulled back a little.

  “You don’t want to know.” He leaned forward to press his mouth roughly against hers, then just as quickly withdrew.

  “No!” Celeste snarled, grabbing hold of his sweater front and pulling his face back down to hers. Her mouth was hot silk as she kissed him with a wildness that was unlike her. Her hands dove under his sweater, seeking the heat of his body to warm her as she moved against him. This time she was the one to pull back. Her silvery-green eyes glittered. “For the first time in almost twenty-four hours I am feeling,” she told him. “I have felt numb since I heard Lori Ritter was dead. Now, instead of that numbness, I feel alive again. And whether you like it or not, it’s because of you.”

  Luc’s face twisted in an agony that came from the soul.

  “It’s the ups and downs of the day, nothing more,” he said coldly. “Go home, go to sleep, and when you wake up you’ll be glad I didn’t take you to bed with me.” He gently pried her fingers from his sweater and walked to his car.

  A dazed Celeste watched him climb into his car and drive off with a squeal of tires. The adrenaline that had coursed through her when they kissed was slowly dissipating, leaving her feeling unsettled and unfulfilled.

  “If this keeps up, Tank will start charging admission for the show,” she murmured.

  The wheels inside her head started turning. Her curiosity about Luc Dante was growing and there was one person she had in mind to help her.

  “Just because he doesn’t want to talk about his past doesn’t mean I
can’t find someone who will talk about it.”

  “What else have you got? Uh-huh. Yeah.” Stryker’s pen raced across the paper. He was slouched back in his chair with his booted feet resting on the desktop. A yellow legal pad was propped on his flat stomach. “When did he get out?” An insulated tall cup of what smelled like fresh brewed coffee seemed to float in front of his eyes. He glanced up. “Okay, thanks. Gotta go,” he said into the receiver before he hung up.

  “What brings you down here to the depths of hell?” He took the cup before it was snatched from his sight. He opened the lid and inhaled the aroma, then sipped the coffee. “And why the bribe?”

  Celeste used her foot to push his chair over as she hitched herself up onto his desk. “Who says it’s a bribe?” she asked archly.

  Stryker looked around the empty corner of the squad room that comprised the homicide department. The only desk occupied just then was his. Just the way he liked it.

  “Come on, Goldilocks, this isn’t your style. One thing I’ve always admired about you is your directness. Don’t BS a champion BSer, okay?” He drank his coffee.

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I want to know about Luc Dante.”

  Stryker stared at her for several moments. “One part owner of popular restaurant, Dante’s Cafe. Thirty-five, single, considered a hot property among the female sex. He’s heterosexual, which really makes him a prime catch. He lives alone. Pays his bills on time, has a nice apartment, no pets. Anything else?”

  “You knew him when you were kids.” It was a guess on her part, but deep inside, she knew she was right. His reply confirmed her hunch.

  “And?”

  “What was he like then?”

  “Now that’s the direct Goldilocks I know.” Stryker nodded his approval. “We were all hell-raisers. Luc went to college, I went into the army. Bad boys made good. End of story.”

  “No!” She grew frustrated. “What was he like as a person? Why does the mention of his mother make him so angry?”

  He blew out a low whistle. “You asked him about his mother? Man, you are one brave lady.”

  “What about her?” Celeste demanded. “You know something, don’t you.”