His head swiveled between Burton and me, unsure who was the bigger threat—the hulking black man with the subpoena he desperately didn't want to take, or the petite Asian chick with what might look like a cell phone in her hand. He turned his back to me, evidently thinking Burton was the more immediate problem.
Big mistake.
I lunged forward with the stun gun extended, my finger on the button that would fire seven million volts into his body, rendering him useless for anything but shrieking and moaning. And accepting service of that subpoena.
As I moved in, Burton did too. He grabbed Eddie's right wrist, then dodged a swing from Eddie's flailing left arm. I threw myself into the fray with the crackle of the stun gun announcing my entrance.
"Sarah, I've got this!" Burton yelled.
"No, I don't think you do," I said, struggling to find a large muscle group to target with the stun gun. The thigh was best, causing the person to collapse into a heap. Don't ask how I know this.
Eddie proved to be more wily, or at least more desperate, than I'd anticipated. He threw an elbow, catching me on the side of the jaw with a teeth-clacking blow. It stunned me for a moment, and I fell backward, the stun gun clattering to the ground. Stumbling, I tripped over someone's leg—maybe Eddie, but it could have been Burton. I tumbled backward, landing on my ass in the most unladylike way imaginable.
The two men continued to grapple, falling to the ground and rolling toward me. I scrambled to get the stun gun and threw myself on top of Eddie, trying to find the trigger button with my thumb.
"Let go of the knife," Burton grunted.
He had Eddie's hand in a tight grip, and I saw the box cutter slide from his fingers. My finger slid over the recessed button, and I was just about to give Eddie a jolt, just for being a jerk, when I felt an iron grip on my hand, crushing it into the hard plastic case.
Eddie struggled to wrestle the stun gun from me while Burton tried to pin him down. My fingers were nearly breaking, and I felt the device being twisted by his sweaty grasp.
"Oh no! Burton, look out," I gasped.
But it was too late. Eddie's grip on my hand triggered the stun gun, and I cringed at the crackle of seven million volts being shot directly into Burton's perfect ass.
He crumpled to the side as his glutes contracted in reaction to the electricity, falling heavily onto me. Eddie seized the opportunity and jumped to his feet, leaping over me as I struggled to get out from under Burton's prone figure. He wrenched the driver's door of his car open, the engine roared to life, and the car backed up, turned, and accelerated out of the parking lot, spraying dust and fine grit at where Burton and I sat on the filthy pavement. Well, I was sitting. Burton was still moaning and twitching.
"Damn it!" I yelled out loud.
I was sick of this case. Sick of Eddie Lucas. Sick of not being able to do this one simple task.
"Aaaauuuuggggghhh," Burton said. I couldn't tell if he was as frustrated as me or just suffering the effect of the stun gun.
I stood up, brushed the dirt from my dress, then leaned over Burton, who was laying on his side.
"Come on," I said, taking his arm to help him to his feet. "We need to get out of here."
I managed to get him upright, but I was supporting much of his 200-pound frame. "I swear to God, Sarah."
I didn't need to hear the rest of his muttered, mumbled promise.
"Looks like I should drive back," I said as he stumbled, his right leg pretty much still paralyzed.
He growled at the thought of letting me drive his precious sports car. "No."
"I don't see any other options. You want to hang out here and explain Eddie's hasty departure to his mistress?" I asked.
Burton growled again.
But the thought of getting to Eddie via another path made me stop in the middle of the empty lot. I glanced over at the back door to the Red Silk Ribbon, where Rita would be returning shortly. Maybe we needed a different approach to confronting Eddie Lucas.
CHAPTER SIX
I helped Burton navigate across the parking lot to the screen door at the rear entrance of Red Silk Ribbon and then into the half-unpacked interior of the lingerie shop. The store was cluttered with open cardboard boxes and piles of plastic hangers, and the wall displays were only half-full of sexy lingerie. Scattered around were red velvet settees and puffy ottomans. Gilt-edged ivory dressers were placed around the room in strategic locations to display smaller items, like baskets of lotions and sweet-smelling soaps that were waiting to be assembled, stacked in a corner of the store.
Rita had a strong sense of style—not my style, but the place definitely had a theme going. Though it was hard to say if she was going for "high-class strip club" or just fell short of "the tart's boudoir."
I pushed an empty cardboard box off a sleek red couch and helped Burton lower himself to a sitting position. I plopped down next to him on the firm cushion and sighed. It felt good to sit down on something that wasn't warm pavement.
"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, looking over my slightly dusty dress.
Just my pride. "No, I'm fine."
"I'm not sure how this is going to help us get Eddie served," Burton said.
"I think Rita's a better businesswoman than we're giving her credit for," I said, turning toward the back of the store as I heard footsteps approaching.
"Son of a bitch," she hissed, opening the door. "Can't believe he left—Argh!"
Rita jumped at the sight of Burton and me lounging on her sexy furniture, and her to-go container flew into the air and scattered salad greens on the deep red carpet.
"Hi, remember me?" I asked with a smile.
From the scowl on her face, I'd guess she did. "What are you doing here?"
"We should talk, Rita."
She glanced at Burton, who gave her a warm smile. "Hello. This is a lovely store."
We'd done this before and easily stepped into our roles. Burton took good cop—sweet, calm, reasonable. I'd put the pressure on Rita—make sure she knew the only way out was to cooperate with us. It was a highly effective tactic. No one ever expected me to be to be the bad cop to Burton's good cop.
"Thank you," she said, stepping over the now-empty to-go box. "Who are you?"
"I'm Sarah Girard," I said, standing and extending a hand. She took it warily. "This is Burton Worthington."
Burton stayed seated and gave a friendly wave. I remained near him, a non-threatening distance from Rita, who was still just feet from the door and looked like she'd bolt at the first sign of trouble.
"And why are you here?" Rita said. "Eddie's gone. Clearly."
She hissed the last word, her eyes narrowing at the thought of her boyfriend abandoning her.
"We're actually here to talk to you," I said. "About Eddie."
"I'm not going to talk to you about Eddie."
I ignored her, knowing that she wanted to talk about Eddie. Or she would shortly.
"Did he tell you why we're trying to serve this subpoena on him?"
Rita nodded. "It's to testify at a trial, and he doesn't know anything, so it's useless to even try."
I gave her a sad smile and shook my head. "I've been trying to serve divorce papers on Eddie Lucas for two weeks."
A quick succession of emotions crossed Rita's pretty face—shock, joy, confusion. "Divorce?"
"Yes."
"Does he know that?"
I gave her a sympathetic tilt of my head. "Of course he knows. He just doesn't want a divorce."
She frowned. "I don't believe you."
I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He's only delaying the inevitable. Mrs. Lucas knows about her husband's affairs."
"He'd tell me if he were getting divorced," Rita said, but her face betrayed her uncertainty. "Did you say affairs?"
Pressing forward with my case, I motioned to Burton. "Now my colleague here, Mr. Worthington, he's an investigator employed by Leo Adler's defense attorney. And he needs to clarify some things that he's learned about Eddie's inv
olvement in the fire at the Lemon Basil Bistro."
I looked around at the store. "It sure looks nice now. You'd never know that just months ago it was just a shell of the building. That was a pretty bad fire."
Rita swallowed hard, and I saw her hand tremble slightly. "Maybe you two should go."
Fat chance of getting Burton to stand up and walk out on his own power. He'd need another ten minutes or so before he'd have full use of his leg.
"Did you know Eddie lied about his whereabouts that night?" I asked.
It was a bluff, but I sounded confident. I waited to see if she'd buy it.
"He didn't lie. He just didn't give all the information to the officer."
Bingo.
"And you didn't bother to correct Eddie's mistake?" I asked.
She gave an indignant huff. "No one asked me. If they had, I would have said that Eddie didn't get to my place until after one in the morning, not before midnight."
Burton shifted on the sofa, leaning forward so his arms were resting on his knees. He looked up at Rita, his gaze soft and understanding.
"He put you in a bad situation, didn't he?" he asked, his voice soothing and trustworthy.
She nodded, her resistance melting.
"Did he tell you why he needed to lie?" I asked.
She shot me a glare. "He knew that he'd be suspected if anyone knew he was here that night."
"You were willing to let an innocent man go to prison?"
Her mouth opened, and she looked around the store. I understood her confusion—she'd wanted this building, Eddie got it for her. She was struggling to be loyal to him, achieve her dream, in the face of the consequences of her actions, which would be that Leo went prison for a very long time.
"Sarah, why don't you give Curtis a call?" Burton pressed his cell phone into my hand, and I nodded. It would be best to get a statement from Rita while she was angry at Eddie and willing to cooperate. "Rita, come sit down. You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay?"
Burton patted the couch, and Rita took a seat next to him, looking a little stunned. I slipped out the back door and found Curtis' phone number in Burton's phone.
"Hey, Burton."
"It's Sarah."
"Oh—uh, oh, hi, Sarah. What's up?" Curtis's stammer made me feel horrible. He was a nice guy and I didn't want to lead him on.
"Need another favor," I said, crossing my fingers that Curtis was still patrolling in the neighborhood. "Burton and I are over on Chalk Quarry Boulevard."
"I'm five minutes from there," Curtis said once I gave him the address. "Be there soon."
I returned to find Rita sobbing into Burton's shirtfront, his arm around her. He was really good at being the good cop. I couldn't have been gone two minutes.
"I th-th-thought he loved me."
He patted her back and let her cry.
"Curtis is on the way."
He nodded, just as I heard the familiar rumble of a V-8 engine. Eddie was back.
Burton and I exchanged a glance.
"He's back," Rita said, sniffing and standing up. "Give me that subpoena."
I started to object, but Burton took her hand and stared deep into Rita's eyes. "Are you sure?"
She gave a firm nod, and he handed her the papers.
"You should get out of here," she said, then turned toward the exit as the sound of the car went silent. "Hurry, get in here."
She ran to a louvered dressing room door. Burton stood and wobbled, and I rushed to his side and helped him limp into the tiny space. It was filled with yet-to-be unpacked boxes, and we were crammed together in the dark. I peered through the slats to watch Rita, but my view through the wood slats was limited to the red carpet.
"Hold still," Burton hissed in my ear. Suddenly I was very aware of how close we were in the dark, our bodies pressed together. He was leaning against the wall, and I was leaning against him, trying not to kick the precarious stack of boxes.
"I'm trying to see," I protested in a whisper.
"Shhh," he said.
We waited in silence for a few more seconds, and I wondered if Eddie was going to come in. Then I heard the sound of a car door slamming.
"Can't believe you shot me in the ass," Burton whispered, his breath ruffling my hair.
"Eddie shot you in the ass," I said.
His sharp exhale said he didn't believe me.
"Rita, love? Are you in here?" Eddie called out. The door opened and shut with a click.
"I'm back here," Rita said, sounding like she was about five feet from the dressing room door. I drew a shallow breath and tried not to move.
"Sorry, I had to run out for a minute," Eddie said, sounding breathless.
"Oh? What happened?" Rita asked, her voice sweet and concerned.
"Nothing, just work stuff," he said. "Now, I know you have wine glasses here somewhere. Let's open this bottle."
"Sure, just give me a few minutes to finish this," she said. "By the way, I got a call today from someone about the fire."
Man, butter wouldn't melt in this woman's mouth. She had purposefully set him up near the dressing room so we'd hear everything.
"Uh, fire? Who, who was it?" I smiled Eddie's nervous stammer.
"An investigator, I think," she said.
"From the police? Or a private investigator?"
As the tension in Eddie's voice rose, my pulse quickened. Burton's arms tightened around me in a silent signal. Stay calm.
"Hmm, maybe from the police. I can't remember," Rita said. Now she was just playing with him. It was like watching a predator toying with its food.
"Well, do you remember what they wanted to know?"
"Something about the time you arrived at my house that night," she said.
A shadow crossed the door, and I drew back, meeting Burton's rock-hard chest. His arms pulled me tight against him, and I was no longer sure if my quickening pulse was from the risk of being discovered by Eddie or from the full-body contact with Burton. I swallowed hard and tried to calm my breathing.
"Rita, darling, this is really important. What did you tell the investigator?"
"Why does it matter, Eddie?" Rita asked, her tone calm and sweet. "I mean, if you had nothing to do with it. Why not just tell him the truth?"
A frustrated breath exploded from Eddie. I peeked out the wood slats and saw his shoes and pant legs just outside the door.
"Sweetheart, it would be better if you just stuck to our story. I got to your place before midnight. That's close enough to the truth, right?" Eddie sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"But it's not the truth, Eddie. Tell me what you did."
"No. I can't."
"If you want me to lie for you, I need to know. Otherwise…" Rita's voice trailed off into a threat.
"Look, you wanted this building. I got you the building. You don't need to know anything more than that."
Rita's outraged gasp seemed genuine. "Eddie! What did you do? Did you burn this place down?"
"No! I mean, I didn't mean to! Leo wouldn't move out early. I was just going to damage the kitchen, make it so he had to break the lease early. It was just going to be a small fire."
"And what about Leo?"
"What about him? He confessed! If he wants to take the blame, who am I to stop him?"
"You were going to let an innocent man go to prison?"
"He didn't do it, so he won't be convicted. That's not how courts work," Eddie snapped.
My eyes narrowed. Yeah, it was how courts work, I wanted to shout, and maybe add a jolt from the stun gun to make my point. If people wouldn't step up and testify, then an innocent man could well go to prison.
"Anyway, if it looks like the case isn't going well, I will step forward and tell someone that Leo didn't do it," Eddie said.
"How will you know how the trial's going? You'll be in Paris," Rita said.
"Rita, sweetheart, come with me," Eddie said, pleading. "Let's just go and leave all this behind. I'll write a letter to prosecut
or, and then we can go, just get out of the country and take a long vacation."
"Well, I don't know," Rita said, moving away. "Won't your wife be upset?"
"What? My wife?" Eddie sounded as if he were surprised to learn he had one of those. "What does she have to do with this?"
"Well, have you asked her for a divorce yet?"
Oh, this might be turning ugly, I thought and looked up at Burton. I nodded toward the door, but he shook his head and shifted his weight, seeming to test how well his leg was recovering.
"It's okay," I whispered. "I got this."
I reached into his pants pocket, my eyes still on his face, watching the shock register as he realized where my hand was. I pulled out the stun gun and flipped the switch.
"Sarah, no." His arms wrapped around me and held me firm.
"Of course I asked her for a divorce. She won't do it," Eddie said.
"She can't keep you married against your will," Rita snapped, that temper starting to crack through the fake veneer she'd been showing.
"Baby, I'm trying. As soon as I can, I'm leaving her. Just be patient."
Eddie's simpering whine was greeted with a loud crash outside the thin dressing room door that made me jump, bumping into Burton and sending us both backward into a pile of boxes. As we scrambled to stand, Rita's voice raged on the other side of the door.
"Liar!"
Another crash sounded as Burton and I struggled to stand amid the boxes of inventory in the cramped room, our legs entwined and bodies writhing together. Had it been under better circumstances, the moment might go down as one of my fondest memories. But there was a third crash and another high-pitched scream, and I was sure when we made it out of the dressing room, there was going to be blood—probably Eddie's.
I got to my feet, fought my way to the door, then tripped over Burton's feet and fell against it, propelling it open. I spilled out onto the red carpet, looked up to see Eddie running toward me, and rolled to one side to escape his path. He was running toward the exit, chased by Rita, who was wielding a female mannequin torso, swinging at him as he ducked and weaved.
"Stop it," he yelled.
"You liar!"
Burton burst from the dressing room and launched himself at Eddie, but either his aim was off, or he wasn't expecting the tufted ottoman in the way, and he landed alone on the floor amid a rack of lace demi-bras that Rita had apparently thrown at her lover.
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