by J. B. Lynn
I barely heard Smoke saying his good-bye's because Juliet swept up to me.
"You're going to help me, aren't you?"
"I'll see what I can do," I muttered through gritted teeth, not wanting anyone to see or hear me speak.
She planted herself squarely in my path. "Promise."
I stopped mid-stride, not wanting to walk through her. Smoke crashed into me. We would have both fallen if he hadn't snaked his arm around my waist and lifted me an inch off the floor.
"Sorry!" I gasped, though I couldn't have told you if I was breathless because of the impact or the surprise of being swept off my feet.
"You okay?" he whispered in my ear.
"Promise me," Juliet demanded. "That guy robbed me of the best date of my life."
"Okay." I figured that could serve as a response to both of them.
Smiling her satisfaction, Juliet drifted back to where Cusak was berating his son.
Smoke put me down and followed me out of the café. His cell phone buzzed. Pulling it from his pocket he glanced at the display. "Now what?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We had to swing by the store where Halley worked on our way back to the job site.
"She's never done this before," he said for the sixth time while trying to squeeze the life out of the steering wheel.
"It's not a problem," I assured him once again.
His sister had called and demanded to be picked up from work immediately or she was going to walk home. The formerly unflappable man panicked, convinced she had no idea what direction "home" was in, so we were speeding across town, hoping to catch her before she got lost.
He needn't have worried. Halley was sitting on a bench outside the store having an animated conversation with an older man in a bloody butcher's smock.
"Great," Smoke muttered. "Now I'll have to tear her away from one of her imaginary friends." Throwing the car into park in the Emergency/Fire lane, he leapt from the car and stalked over to her.
Lucky for him, the ghost butcher disappeared the moment Halley turned to face her brother. After a brief exchange of words punctuated by Smoke rubbing the back of his neck in agitation, they ambled over to the car.
"Hi, Vicky!" Halley greeted me with a great, guileless smile.
"Hi, Halley."
She clambered into the backseat of the Jeep as Smoke rounded the car. His face was set in a scowl that would make bluebirds stop singing.
I gulped nervously, but his sister didn't seem to even notice his sour mood.
"I wanna play Rock, Paper, Scissors," she announced the moment he slammed his door shut and started the car.
"I told you, Halley. I have work to do. I don't have time for playing games."
"Not with you, silly."
"Ms. Spring has to work too." He slid his gaze sideways as though daring me to argue the point.
I kept my lips pressed together.
"Not with her," Halley said. "With the one who had the accident."
"What accident?" Smoke glanced at his sister in the rearview mirror.
"I dunno. What accident, Vicky?"
My fingers flexed instinctively as I fought the sudden urge to throw myself from the moving vehicle. How was I going to explain this to Smoke without sounding like a total lunatic?"
"She doesn't know what you're talking about either, Halley." Smoke sounded tired, resigned, as though they were re-enacting a conversation they'd had a thousand times before.
"Yes she does. She's the one who told me about the accident when she saw me playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with him."
Stopping at a traffic light, Smoke looked over at me. "Is that true?"
I shrugged helplessly.
"Why would you do that?"
"She wanted to know why he couldn't talk to her," I said weakly.
A car behind us honked. The light had turned green. Smoke turned away, focusing on the road. His tone was laced with a mixture of anger and sarcasm. "Of course. It makes perfect sense for a grown woman to play along with the delusions of an imaginary friend."
I cringed. I couldn't defend myself. Not without claiming to be able to see ghosts. Something which sounded even more ridiculous than making up a story about the imaginary friend of a woman with Down syndrome.
Thankfully Halley filled the uncomfortable silence with chatter about what was on sale at the grocery store. She seemed to have a real aversion to bagging kitty litter and couldn't understand why anyone would buy a spiky pineapple.
Even her cheerful prattle couldn't soothe the nervous churning of my stomach. I knew that Smoke was probably mentally rehearsing how he was going to rip into me once his sister was out of earshot. He was pissed. I'd been warned by two cops, Reed and Cusak, that I'd be better off staying away from him. Then again, Reed had been the one who'd sent me Buck's violent brother, and I suspected Cusak of murdering poor Juliet .
However, whatever Smoke was going to say to me and whatever flimsy excuses I was going to offer in defense of my bizarre behavior were quickly forgotten as we pulled up in front of the frat boy house. The Spring Cleaning van was about six inches closer to the ground that it should have been.
The moment Smoke put the Jeep in park, my door was open, and my feet were on the ground. I hurried to the company vehicle, my brain trying to make sense of what my eyes were seeing.
All four tires were flat.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" I kicked at the nearest tire.
"Ooooooh, Vicky has to put money in the swear jar!" Halley crowed.
I looked from my damaged van to the woman standing in the street, clapping her hands at my misfortune.
"Quiet, Halley. Can't you see she's upset?" Smoke had joined me to examine the damage.
"But she sweared! She's got to pay the fine."
"Okay, okay. Why don't you go wait in the Jeep?" He shooed his sister away before turning to me. "Sorry about that, it's this thing we've got at home."
"We had that when I was growing up." Despite being upset about the tires, the memory brought a smile to my face. "There were weeks when my brother had to put half his paper route money in the jar."
"Who did that?" Halley came up behind me, having ignored her brother's suggestion.
I shrugged.
"Maybe he knows." She pointed to Donny who'd just materialized through the front door of the frat house. "You should ask him."
It wasn't a bad suggestion, but it wasn't like I could follow through on it with Smoke standing beside me. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Okay." Halley hurried toward Donny. "Hello."
"Please," Smoke spoke through gritted teeth, "please don't do that. I've got enough problems with her talking to imaginary playmates."
"Maybe they're not imaginary. Maybe they're ghosts." I watched his reaction carefully, and was immediately sorry I'd broached the subject.
"Ghosts? Did you hit your head again when you were in the restroom at the soup place?"
"You don't believe in ghosts?" I asked with deceptive mildness.
"You do?" he asked incredulously.
"I…" Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Martin was circling the van, examining the damage. "I don't believe in limiting options."
"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "So says the woman who's stuck running a business she hates."
"I don't hate it!" I argued a tad too quickly and way too defensively.
Smoke took a step closer, invading my personal space, and forcing me to tilt my head back in order to look him in the eye. "You, Ms. Spring, are either delusional or a liar. Which is it?"
I swallowed hard and looked away, hoping he didn't see the tears that had welled up unexpectedly. I was unduly hurt by his assessment, when really, I had no reason in the world to care what he thought of me. Through the blur of tears, I saw Halley returning to where we stood.
Smoke let out a loud sigh, but I didn't dare risk looking at him. "Look—"
"He doesn't listen to me," Halley interrupted with a plaintive whine.
"That's becau
se he can't hear you," I answered automatically.
"What did I just say?" Smoke fumed.
"Is Vicky not listening to you?" his sister asked.
"Vicky doesn't listen to anyone," Smoke said.
Dashing away the unshed tears, I glared at him. "If I did, maybe I'd give some weight to the people who keep telling me to stay away from you."
"Who told you that? That jerk Reed?"
"You sweared!" Halley hurried over and wrapped me in an awkward hug. "And you have to pay double for yelling at Vicky!"
Smoke eyed us incredulously. "I didn't yell at her."
"Did too!" his sister countered. "Now apologize before you make her cry again."
A muscle in Smoke's cheek twitched, signaling the effort he was making to control his reaction. "I—"
"Everything okay, Vicky?" a familiar male voice asked.
Smoke, Halley, and I turned simultaneously in the direction of Detective Alan Reed.
"Speak of the jerk," Smoke muttered.
Halley shook her head, signaling her disappointment in her brother's continued use of profanity.
Pulling free of her embrace, I gestured at the four flats for Reed's benefit. "Vandals."
He strolled over to the car and bent to examine the front right tire. "And where were you when this happened, Barclay?"
Seeing Smoke ball his hands into fists and knowing he was in a bad mood, I hurried to answer. "With me. At Soup for Nuts. Plenty of people saw us there."
Reed straightened and turned to look at me. "I was just going to ask if he'd seen anybody suspicious hanging around." He looked to Smoke for a response.
My surly employee shook his head slightly.
"So then the next question is, do you have any enemies, Vicky?"
"Enemies?" I squeaked nervously. "This is just vandalism. Isn't it?"
"Doubt it. One tire, maybe two is a prank. All four is personal," Reed said.
"But I haven't done anything!" I looked at the damage anew, no longer calculating what it would cost me at the mechanic's, but wondering who could be so angry at me.
"Maybe it was ghosts," Smoke cracked dryly.
"Ha ha." I surreptitiously glanced at where Martin was hovering over the hood and was relieved when he shook his head.
"Have you been inside the house yet?" Reed asked.
I gulped. "No."
"Okay, give me the key." Reed held out his hand. "You wait out here while I check it out."
Glancing over at the house, I realized Donny had disappeared. Was he inside, watching someone ransack the place while we were out here? Would Reed be walking into a dangerous situation?
Making a show of rooting around in my pocket for the key, I looked over at Martin. "What if whoever did this is still inside?"
Understanding my unspoken message, he flew back into the house, straight through the front door.
"We'll go in and check it out," Smoke corrected in a tone that brooked no argument, snatching the key from me.
"What-evvv," Reed said with a shrug in his best surfer dude impression.
I had to kill time until Martin returned to give me the all clear. If it wasn't, I had no idea how to stop these two men from going inside. "But what if—"
"Halley, you stay out here," Smoke grabbed her hand and mine and pressed them together.
Martin drifted up behind him and gave me the "okay" sign.
I curled my fingers around hers and nodded at Smoke, signaling I understood he needed me to keep his sister safe.
He headed toward the frat house door with long, purposeful strides, forcing Alan Reed to hurry after him.
"You do remember that I'm the one with the authority and the gun, don't you?" I heard Reed ask.
I didn't hear Smoke's response, but I assume that whatever it was, he'd probably have to make a donation to the swear jar because of it.
When they re-emerged from the house a few minutes later, I figured the hard part was over. I should have remembered that nothing is ever easy.
Never mind the headache of having the Spring Cleaning van towed to the tire place. Once Reed and Smoke had determined nothing in the frat boy house had been disturbed, the detective, using his phone, took pictures of the tires, made notes in a spiral bound pad, and asked a million inane questions. He seemed quite disappointed that I couldn't think of anyone who would want to harm me or the business.
"What about…?" I asked Smoke.
He shook his head, cutting me off before I could say Cusak's name.
Halley got bored with the whole exchange and went to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with Martin on the stairs.
"Who?" Reed asked curiously.
"Shirley DiNunzio. She has a bit of a thing for me," Smoke supplied. He warned me to keep my mouth shut with a single look.
"Tom's sister?" Reed asked with a chuckle.
Smoke nodded miserably.
"I'll look into it." He turned his attention back to me. "Anyone else?"
I shook my head.
"I don't like you being here alone, Vicky."
"She's not alone." Smoke fixed his icy blue gaze on Reed.
"No," Reed said calmly. "She's here with someone who's considered to be a suspect in these murders."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Smoke growled.
Martin appeared suddenly between the two men and began jamming his pointer finger into his incorporeal chest.
"According to a witness statement, a man fitting your description was seen prowling around the area the night of the murders," Reed said. "And more than one person thinks it's damn suspicious that you've managed to insinuate yourself into the clean-up job."
"Who finds it suspicious?" Smoke demanded through clenched teeth.
Reed shook his head.
Martin waved wildly, getting my attention. He pointed at his chest and then pointed to the detective.
It wasn't difficult to figure out what he wanted.
"So does this mean you think Martin didn't kill his friends?" I asked.
"That's the way it's starting to look," Reed replied.
"But Smoke didn't do it either?" I asked aloud. My question was aimed at Martin, who shook his head.
"No, Smoke didn't do it either," Smoke said with more than a tinge of sarcasm.
"What didn't you do?" Halley asked, having rejoined us since she'd lost her playmate to our conversation.
Smoke's stricken expression had me lying through my teeth in a breathless rush. "He didn't call me Vicky like I've asked."
"Oh." She held out her hand to the space between the two living men. "Come back and play with me."
Reed looked at her questioningly, obviously not seeing Martin slip his hand into hers, allowing her to pull him back toward the steps.
"Imaginary friends," Smoke explained. "Or, if you prefer Ms. Spring's theory, ghostly playmates."
"When can I get the van towed?" I asked, wanting to turn the subject away from my questionable beliefs.
"I'm done here for now," Reed said. "I can drive you home if you'd like."
"I've got to get the van taken care of."
"Okay, but if you change your mind, you've got my number."
"I'll take her home," Smoke said.
"I'll take a cab," I told them, before walking away and calling for a tow.
Of course getting the van towed required a flatbed, which took longer to arrive than a regular tow truck, which was okay because I had to empty out all of the potentially hazardous materials and lug them into the frat boy house for safekeeping. To be fair, Smoke did the majority of lugging, though he did it incessantly muttering under his breath.
We'd just finished when Detective Barbie showed up, and Martin started flashing numbers again.
"Not again," I moaned.
"Hey," Smoke chastised. "At least she doesn't suspect me of murder."
"I don't—"
He waved me off and walked away. Lacey greeted him with a smile and a hug.
I was saved from making chitchat with the be
autiful detective by the arrival of the tow truck. By the time the van was loaded, Lacey had left, but Martin was still flashing those numbers. I couldn't ask him about them though because Halley had joined us, and Smoke was leaning against his Jeep eyeing us suspiciously.
"Are you playing a counting game?" Halley asked.
I shook my head.
"Smoke says to tell you he's taking you home."
"Tell him—"
Shaking her head, she pressed a finger to my lips to silence me. "If you don't let him take you home, he'll take me out to dinner."
I pried her hand away. "And that's a bad thing?"
She nodded seriously. "It's mac-and-cheese night. If I go out with Smoke, he'll make me eat vegetables." She screwed her face into an expression of absolute horror.
"Okay, okay," I chuckled. "He can drive me home."
Halley flashed me an angelic smile of thanks, waved good-bye to Martin, took my hand, and led me to the Jeep.
My pleasure in saving her from the dreaded green stuff was short-lived when I saw the tension in Smoke's jaw. I had the feeling I was in for a rough ride.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After we'd dropped Halley off at her residential living home, Smoke drove to my place giving me the stony silent treatment my mom had used on me for three days straight when she found out I'd been kicked out of the junior prom because my date, Jim Kayn, Venus, her date, some kid I never saw before or after, and I had consumed half the limo's mini-bar on the way there.
Sitting in the Jeep, I was less concerned by Smoke's treatment than I had been of my mother's. She'd had the power to ground me for the rest of my life. Instead of stewing over the argument with Smoke, I found myself wondering whatever happened to Jim Kayn.
My punishment for my drunken revelry had been to raise a seeing-eye puppy. It might seem like a cute, cuddly ball of fur may not seem like much of a punishment, but my mom knew that learning this particular lesson about being responsible was just the sort of punishment I deserved. The inconvenience of his required care wreaked havoc with my social schedule. Not to mention I'd sobbed hysterically when it had been time to give Spot up.