Shifter, P.I. (werewolf detective)

by Bonnie Dee

  His back was to me, but I had a great view of hers as she talked animatedly, gesturing with her hands. I couldn’t imagine what they were meeting about and wished I could read lips. I cursed myself for not bringing Rick’s little camera to snap some photos for Brian Addington. The best I’d be able to do would be to give a complete description of the man. He wore a dark wool suit despite the weather and it hung on his thin frame. At one point he gestured with his left hand and I caught the flash of a ring on his finger as well as some kind of tattoo on the back of his hand.

  For twenty minutes Angela and her strange companion sat and talked then the man stood and left the restaurant. Angela finished her drink, paid the bill and left, too.

  I considered following her to make sure she was actually going home, but glancing at my watch, realized it was close to the time I was supposed to meet Rick. Abandoning my sleuthing for the day, I headed to my apartment to get changed.

  * * * *

  “Wow, you look really nice tonight,” Rick said as I slid into the passenger seat of his car an hour later.

  “Thanks. You don’t need to sound so shocked.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” He gestured toward my blue dress. “You just look especially nice is all.”

  I sat back in my seat and stared out the side window. It felt strange being with him outside of the office. I was very aware of his presence beside me and the need to make polite casual conversation, something we rarely did at the work.

  “What were you up to today?” Rick asked after a few minutes. “You’re hardly ever out of the office.”

  “I have a life too, you know. Errands to run. Things to do.” I thought about what little I’d learned about Mrs. Addington and wondered if I should share it with Rick. After all, it might have some impact on his case, putting the angelic Angela in a new light. But I was determined to do the detective work and wrap up both cases on my own so I kept my information to myself. “So, what birthday is it for your grandpa?”

  “Eighty-two, though you’d never guess it. He’s an amazing guy.” Rick turned the car and headed out of the city and through the suburbs. “Even my Tante Daria and her family are going to be there tonight.”

  Rick’s family was a huge mixture of diverse personalities. Although the family members were fiercely protective of their own, Amy had noticed there was constantly some grudge or drama going on in the volatile bunch.

  “Why wouldn’t she? What’s up with your aunt?”

  “She’s super-Catholic and can’t get over Uncle Louis coming out. They haven’t spoken in years. But she’s coming for Grandpère. Wish I could’ve gotten out of going to the party.”

  I turned to look at him. “Why? You don’t know how lucky you are to have such a big family.”

  “What about your family? You’ve never told me much about them except that you’re from Connecticut.”

  “There’s pretty much just my mom and dad and me,” I said. “Which is why my mom is so focused on me. I have no siblings to deflect her attention. I’m a big disappointment. I was supposed to be a biochemist or something by now.”

  “Family expectations are a pain,” Rick agreed. “But what about the rest of your family ... aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents?”

  “My dad’s parents are retired and living in Florida and he has no brothers or sisters. Mom’s parents died a long time ago. She has two sisters in New York, but something happened between them, which my Mom won’t talk about so they’re not in touch. We’re pretty isolated from any relatives.”

  “Huh.” Rick made another turn and the headlights arched across trees draped in ghostly shrouds of moss. We were heading into bayou country. “I thought Chinese were all about family history and obligations and such.”

  “In general. My family--not so much. We’re totally Americanized and are about as ethnic as Wonder Bread. My mom doesn’t cook old family recipes from scratch and neither of my parents can speak Chinese. Dad’s only bilingual because he took Spanish in high school. I’m fourth generation on both sides. My family lives in Darien. You can’t get much whiter than that.”

  I laughed and didn’t add that despite being completely American, I’d still felt my foreign features setting me apart from my schoolmates in Darien. Likely it was my prickly personality and not my skin color or almond eyes that made me feel a little estranged.

  “So, my wacky Cajun family is more of a subculture than yours.” Rick pulled into the driveway of his uncle’s property.

  Flickering light through the trees signaled a bonfire, and I could hear music playing even with the car windows closed. We rounded a curve in the drive to see Plazier relatives spread all over Louis and Ramón’s yard. Tiki torches were scattered around the perimeter. The bonfire blazed off to the left, surrounded by teens and snuggling couples. A band was set up on the broad front porch of the house, guitars and accordion playing zydeco music. A temporary dance floor had been laid down on the lawn and Japanese lanterns swayed above it adding to the festive air.

  People milled everywhere, old folks sitting in lawn chairs, everyone else balancing drinks and paper plates of food as they stood around and talked. Little kids and a couple of dogs raced around the adults in a game of tag, running out to the shadows beneath the live oaks and passing way too close to the bonfire.

  Rick parked at the end of a row of a wide assortment of cars and we got out. I hadn’t brought a dish to pass, knowing the table would already be filled with dishes prepared by much better cooks than I. My offering was a bottle of wine and a gift of tobacco for Grandpère Martin’s pipe.

  The old man was seated in an armchair brought outdoors and set up near the dance floor, accepting adulation like a king on his throne. The band took a break just then, making it easier to talk with the hard of hearing old man.

  Martin Plazier was a tall, big-boned man with skin like cured leather. His hawk nose, bushy eyebrows and blade-sharp cheekbones gave him a striking appearance. He looked up at me with charcoal eyes nested in wrinkles and took my hands. He pulled me down and gave me a kiss on each cheek. “Hey, doll. Good to see you. I met you before, eh? Ricky’s girlfriend?”

  “We work together,” I corrected. “Yes, we’ve met before, Mr. Plazier, at the Christmas party. Happy Birthday!” I held out my gift and the old man opened the package as eagerly as a child.

  “Aw, chèr, thank you. Just what I needed.” He held the pouch of tobacco to his nose and breathed deeply.

  “Rick told me your favorite brand. I hope you enjoy it.”

  “Hey, Gramps.” Rick leaned down and hugged the old man. “How are your legs tonight?”

  Martin scowled. “Not up for dancin’ but screw that. I don’t want to talk about my old body fallin’ apart. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Why ain’t you proposed to la joli fille here yet?” He nodded toward me and my face blazed with embarrassment. “You think you’re gonna find somethin’ better, garçon?”

  “Um, Amy’s not my girlfriend. We work together,” Rick said loudly and slowly.

  “You don’t have to shout. I ain’t deaf.” The old man’s gaze swung from Rick back to me. “You know the boy’s little problem, don’t you? It ain’t that bad. I knew a woman once changed to a panther during the full moon. Swear to God. And she had a family. Of course her husband had to keep her away from the kids when she went wild, but other than that, it worked out right well.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the heartwarming story.” Rick patted the old man’s arm. “We’re starved and we’re going to get something to eat now. Joyeux Anniversaire, Grandpère.”

  As we walked toward the buffet table, Rick said, “Sorry about that. He only hears what he wants to hear, and right now he’s determined to see me married and producing more grandchildren. As if I could.”

  “He’s a sweetie.” My blush slowly subsided, but I was still uncomfortable at the old man’s assumption of a relationship Rick and I didn’t have--would never have. Rick didn’t see me as a desirable woman, just the shrew who sh
ared his office. My own fault, of course, since I’d cultivated that persona, but it didn’t make it any easier to take his rejection.

  We loaded our plates with pork boudin, andoille jambalaya, crawfish etouffée, red beans and rice, plus so many side dishes my plate threatened to collapse. We found a couple of vacant seats at one of the picnic tables and slid in hip to hip. I could feel every inch of Rick’s thigh pressed against mine. On the other side of me was a little girl in a frilly pink dress who twisted and turned as she ate, getting red bean sauce all over the front of her dress, in her hair and on my arm.

  “Cute kid,” I said dryly.

  “One of my second cousins, Betty’s girl, I think.” Rick grinned and reached across me with his napkin to wipe sauce from my forearm.

  Every hair on my arm stood up and my skin tingled.

  “No one exactly keeps the kids under control at these parties, but she is a cutie,” he said.

  No, you are, I thought, looking into his eyes up close. They were more green than gray tonight, I noticed. Then I turned to the curly-headed little girl and realized Rick was right, she was kinda adorable. The kid had one finger up her nose and the other hand brandished a toy car she was trying to get me to notice by ramming it into my arm.

  “Cool!” I said enthusiastically. “That your car? How many miles a gallon does it get?”

  She giggled then abruptly hopped off the picnic bench and ran away to join the other kids. Rick and I both laughed and a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the spices in the food percolated in my stomach.

  We finished our meal, threw away the paper plates then stopped to chat with Rick’s Uncle Louis and his partner Ramón. Louis always looked to me like he’d stepped out of a nineteen thirties movie. He had a pencil thin moustache and slicked-back black hair, a seemingly endless array of sharp suits and he often sported a fedora. Tonight, in deference to the heat, he wore Bermudas and a Hawaiian shirt. The look was so out of character it took me a moment to register it was him.

  “Neveu, how are you?” He embraced Rick, air kissing him then turned to me, grabbed my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “And darling Amy. You look radiant.” He leaned close to kiss my cheeks and I caught a whiff of his subtle, woodsy cologne.

  “I’m doing great,” Rick answered. “I repaired the floorboard in Mrs. Grover’s apartment.” Part of Rick’s rental agreement for that sweet apartment of his required him to take care of small maintenance issues for the other tenants of his uncle’s property.

  “Good. Thank you,” Louis said.

  Ramón, a short, stocky Cuban with a thick shock of black hair and a middle-aged pot belly, smiled and greeted both of us before turning to Louis. “Mi amor, I’m going to make more sangría. We’re running low.”

  As his boyfriend walked away, Louis looked after him with an affectionate smile. “He’s so uptight. He never thinks we’ve made enough food when we have guests and he’s completely obsessed with running out of liquor. I keep telling him we can make wine out of water if we happen to run out, but he isn’t amused.” Louis turned back to us. “Oh, Rick, I almost forgot. Your mamà said to tell you she’ll be arriving late tonight.”

  “What’s up? Why didn’t she call me?”

  “Well,” Louis leaned toward us with a gleam in his eye and a confidential lowering of his voice. “Your mother is bringing a date. She doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but you know if she’s dragging someone to one of these family things, it means something. She must really like him.”

  I glanced at Rick to see his reaction.

  “Are you serious? Who is it? Why didn’t she tell me? How do you know all about it? When are they coming?”

  “It’s that kind of grilling she’s trying to avoid. So I recommend when she gets here you act casual and don’t give her a hard time.”

  “Of course not. Do you think I’m six? My mom’s got every right to see someone if she wants to. I think it’s great.” Rick’s tight voice belied his words.

  After Louis chatted with us for several minutes, he left to ask the band to play “Happy Birthday” for Grandpère Martin. The entire party joined in the singing, each person choosing a different key, but the band kept them more or less together. Ramón brought out a cake blazing with candles and the little kids gathered around and helped their great grandpa blow them out. We all clapped. Then the band broke into an exuberant two-step and couples began to fill the makeshift dance floor.

  “You want to dance?” Rick asked.

  I looked up, startled. “Um. Sure. I guess. But I don’t really know how to two-step.”

  “That’s okay. My cousin will teach you.” He pointed to a tall, dark-haired guy in jeans and a muscle shirt who was standing near the dance floor, talking to a girl. “That’s Remy, the cousin I told you about. Come on.”

  Speechless at the sudden change in my expectations, I followed Rick across the lawn where he introduced me to Remy and Sylvia, another cousin.”

  “Glad to meet you. There are never any single women I’m not related to at these things.” The tall man grinned down at me and I saw a glimpse of Rick in his smile and manner. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He might be just what I needed to take my mind off his bone-headed cousin.

  “Hi. Like I told Rick, I really don’t know how to...” Before I finished my sentence he’d swept me off my feet ... literally. He was so much taller than I that when he swung me out onto the dance floor, he lifted me up in his arms. Sounds romantic, I know, but it was actually quite painful. He crushed me in his big arms and did all sorts of crazy steps, spinning and whirling me around like a rag doll. By the time the song was finished I was dizzy, sweating, breathless, and my ribs hurt.

  Remy clapped for the band enthusiastically then stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Great fiddle, eh?”

  “Yeah. Look, I think I’ll...”

  Remy took my hand and pulled me back into his arms in the classic waltz position.

  The fiddler bowed the strings and a plaintive, quiet melody soared over the chattering crowd. It was a melancholy tune, simple, sweet and deadly on the emotions. I felt unexpected, ridiculous tears prickling my eyes, all because I was dancing with Rick’s gangly cousin instead of Rick.

  Then suddenly Rick was on the dance floor tapping Remy on the shoulder, “Can I cut in, cuz?”

  Remy clomped away and Rick took his place, slipping a hand around my waist and clasping my right hand. There were several inches between our bodies but I could still feel his heat. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

  I slipped my hand up his chest to rest on his shoulder. The classic dance pose hadn’t affected me at all in Remy’s arms, but with Rick it felt intimate and incredibly sexy. He propelled me gracefully around the dance floor. I felt elegant in his embrace instead of dance-challenged. My mind raced as I tried to decipher the subtext behind Rick interrupting my dance with his cousin--the cousin he had engineered me to be with. Did it mean anything? Could he possibly have a shred of interest in me after all?

  I stared at the gray T-shirt in front of me.The pectoral muscles stretching the fabric made my pussy glow warmly. Then I looked up into Rick’s eyes as he peered down into my face. My breath caught. He inclined his head toward me and I lifted my face.

  “So, what do you think of Remy? Nice guy, huh?”

  My rising heart plummeted to my shoes. “Yeah. He’s great.”

  Rick smiled. “You two should go out some time. He comes across as kind of a player and tends to brag on himself some, but underneath he’s really nice.”

  “Okay, Yenta. I don’t need you to hook me up. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own love life.”

  “I know.”

  Rick looked over my shoulder and I exhaled, released from his intense gaze--a gaze which clearly didn’t mean sexual attraction. That had been my own fantasizing. I swayed in the circle of his arms, miserable at having him physically close but mentally far away from me. I couldn’t wait for the dance to end.
/>
  Chapter Five

  Rick

  When I saw Remy dancing with Amy, even though I’d set them up, jealousy surged through me. The intensity of the emotion shook me. It was way beyond normal irritation at seeing another guy holding a woman you kind of like. Something primitive rose up in me, ordering me to tear her away from Remy and make her mine. The hair rose at the nape of my neck and a growl in the back of my throat. I recognized the beast rising in me and drove it down into the dungeon of my subconscious.

  Heel, boy. I corralled my emotions as I watched Remy swing Amy around the dance floor. But when the two-step ended and a slow waltz began and Remy clasped Amy close as they swayed to the wistful tune, I couldn’t suppress my urges any longer. No! Woman. Mine. The primal message rose from some antiquated lobe of my brain.

  “Okay. Enough,” I said aloud.

  One of my aunts standing nearby looked up at me curiously. “Did you say something, Ricky?”

  I strode to the dance floor and tapped Remy’s shoulder, a little harder than necessary. “Can I cut in, cuz?”

  He flashed me an annoyed look but stepped away, surrendering Amy’s hand.

  I slid my hand around her waist to rest on the small of her back and felt her body move with every breath. I clasped her hand, palm to palm, my fingers curved around the back. Her hands were small and soft in complete contrast to her razor tongue. Although we’d worked together a year, we’d rarely had physical contact. Except for the morning I woke at Amy’s house with her tending my wound, I’d never felt her touch. Holding her in my arms under the pretext of dancing was probably a big mistake. It would only make it harder to go back to pretending I didn’t desire her every day.

  I looked down at the top of her head as I swept her around the floor then leaned to smell her dark hair which smelled of herbal shampoo and her own natural scent. She tipped her head to look up at me and I tried to appear as if I hadn’t just been sniffing her. For a long moment we stared into each other’s eyes. Amy’s piercing gaze held me like a moth struggling on a pin. I couldn’t think. All I knew was that I wanted to bend down and kiss her. I even inclined my head slightly toward her before I jerked myself back to reality.