The Sweetheart Mystery

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  He opened the Yugo’s door and covered the seat with the blanket. He’d be damned if she got one goat hair on that sexy-as-hell dress.

  Harper slid inside. He got a flash of pretty legs and that tempered his ill humor. It ramped back up when he slid behind the wheel and turned over the engine. It rattled as if dying.

  “Have I told you how much I hate this car?”

  She covered her mouth with a hand. “Once or twice.”

  Thankfully they made the trip without any mishaps. He found a spot between two BMWs and smirked while imagining the owners’ horrified faces when they retrieved their cars. This once, he got enjoyment from the damn car.

  Harper didn’t ask how much he paid for the tickets and he didn’t offer. The hotel was lit with white lights as they passed through the lobby and headed to the ballroom.

  Noah had to admit he did some strutting with Harper on his arm. Although he preferred her curly hair loose around her shoulders and down her back, she looked stunning in the red dress and new style. During the ride over, they’d discussed whether Betty Anne would recognize her.

  “Hopefully not before we get good intel,” he’d said.

  Although digging a confession out of the widow seemed unlikely, copious amounts of champagne might loosen tongues. A misplaced word here or there, could lead the investigation in a different direction. They just had to hope the widow had loose lips or the gossip chain was open for business.

  “There are a lot of people here,” she said when they stepped inside the open double doors. Everyone was decked out to party and raise money. “I see a couple of the guys.”

  By guys she meant members of the Muskrat team. He followed the path of her eyes. Quarterback Deke and a mountain of a man he thought was Terry Simmons, a defensive tackle, stood together and people watched.

  As a guy with an interest in sports, Noah tuned into the Muskrats on TV when he could. Living in Virginia and working full-time left little time to indulge in a lazy afternoon of sports and beer. Since he’d been home, he’d played catch up with local sports teams.

  Deke spotted Harper and lifted his glass. His eyes showed his appreciation. Noah instantly disliked him.

  “Noah, I know that expression,” she said and waved back. “You made that same face when Rob Garvey used to talk to me in the hallway after biology class.”

  Was he that obvious? “And what face is that?”

  “The face that comes from smelling a neglected cat box.” Seeing their attention on him, the quarterback grinned with some very white teeth. “Deke and I only had one wild sex-fueled weekend last year. We both realized that if we didn’t stop, we’d end up expiring from orgasmic strokes.”

  * * * *

  Noah made the “stink face” again. “I know you’re kidding.”

  “Do you?” For a man who had no claim on her affections, he sure wanted to mark her as his. Noah needed to be taken down a peg before he piddled on her shoe. “What I did pre-you is my business. What I do now isn’t your business either.”

  With that, she weaved her way through the crowd. Deke and Terry welcomed her with smiles and cheek kisses.

  “What a surprise to see you here, Harp,” Deke said and pulled her close. She saw his game. If not for her annoyance with Noah, she’d have elbowed him off. “Who’s the guy?”

  Any other man and she’d wonder about his motives for asking. Deke, while appreciating her as an attractive woman, had never hit on her once in the two years they’d known each other.

  The whole sex-filled weekend thing was a fib.

  “Just a guy I know.” How could she define the indefinable? “He’s helping me investigate Gerald’s murder.”

  “How’s that going?” Terry asked. He gave Alvin a run for tall and brawny. They could both eclipse a SUV with their shadows. “It’s hard to imagine you as Harp the Killer.”

  One thing Harper could count on was loyalty. With a few exceptions, mainly named Covington, the team had her back.

  “Thanks.” She accepted a glass of white wine from a passing waiter and sipped. “Could you tell the police that?”

  Terry chuckled. “Have them call me.” He looked past her and his face lit up when his wife joined them. Terry was six-four and close to three hundred pounds. His wife, Bettina, was roughly five-three and topped out at maybe one ten. They’d been high school sweethearts and were now newlyweds.

  “Hi, Harper.” Bettina was a sweet and pretty Midwest gal with dark hair and brown eyes. She was also a pediatric nurse.

  To Harper, Terry had married up. “I heard about Gerald,” Bettina said. “I can’t believe anyone would suspect you.”

  Harper thanked her, chatted for a few minutes, and excused herself. “I should find my companion.”

  Investigation first, socializing last.

  She rounded the perimeter until she spotted Noah at the bar talking with Cassidy, one of the cheerleaders. The gorgeous redhead had a hand on his arm and was laughing at something he said. He clearly enjoyed the company.

  Harper tensed. Who knew Noah was so hilarious?

  Rather than break up the love-fest, she gulped the wine and headed off.

  She spent the next hour reacquainting herself with the small group of Muskrat cheerleaders in attendance, asking if they’d heard gossip about the murder, and snooping on conversations. Several had been at the bar that unfortunate night. No one came off as guilty of the murder.

  So far, the only intel came from what played out on TV news and the internet. The night was a bust.

  Where was Betty Anne? No sooner had she formed the thought than she spotted her arrive with Berit. Dressed like someone’s grandmother in sea foam green, heavy hose, and low heeled shoes, she scanned the crowd. Harper darted behind a potted plant and peered out between the fronds. Betty Anne didn’t see her.

  “Inspector Clouseau, I presume?”

  Harper jumped. “You scared me,” she hissed and jerked Noah out of sight. “Betty Anne is here.”

  The widow walked over to Deke, and he’d laid his most flirtatious smile on her. Since she was the heir presumptive of Gerald’s shares of the team, Deke now worked for her.

  “I know,” he said. “I heard the squeak-squeak of her sensible shoes when she arrived.”

  “You are a bad man.” Okay he was funny. She was sure sweet Cassidy and he would get along great. And have cute babies.

  With an effort, she stuffed the green meanie aside and focused. “This is the plan. You go left, I go right, and we’ll both try to get close enough to Betty Anne and her pit bull to eavesdrop.”

  “You think she’ll confess to the Detroit mayor over shrimp cocktail and spinach bites?”

  Back to not funny. “I don’t think she’ll confess at all,” she groused. “I’m not sure what to expect. Perhaps nothing. But we can’t get close to her otherwise, without Berit snapping off my head and clocking you with it. We have to try.”

  He seemed to accept that with a lip twitch at the image. If nothing else, Noah was loyal to the cause. And right now, she required loyalty.

  Off they went. For the next two hours, the closest Harper got to Betty Anne was two degrees of separation. There were always two people between her and the widow. Any closer and Betty Anne would have spotted her. The last thing she needed was a scene.

  Time clicked to almost eleven o’clock when she saw Betty Anne and another woman of about fifty make a break for the bathroom. Berit stayed behind, taking shots with Cody, the punter. The woman swayed on her feet.

  Good, the guard-assistant was out.

  Harper quickly headed for the ladies’ room.

  Luckily there was no line and the widow and friend pushed through the door. Harper waited to a count of ten before slowly easing the door open. A young woman, with toilet paper speared on her spiked heel, jostled past her.

  “Excuuuuuuse me.�
� Snotty and rude, she tottered off. Harper smiled at the two-ply banner waving behind her. What goes around, comes around, and all that.

  Hurrying, Harper stepped into the bathroom, darted into an open stall, and slammed the door behind her.

  “I can’t believe how you put up with that ass, sweetie,” a woman said. “You deserve a medal.”

  Betty Anne’s companion?

  A snort followed, a flush, then another. Harper peered through the crack between stall door and frame. The two women reconvened at the sinks.

  “There are ways to get even,” Betty Anne said and her mouth thinned. “Painful ways.”

  “Oh.” A conspiratorial tone. “Do tell.”

  A dryer clicked on. Anything else was drowned out. Darn. Harper waited until they left and exited the stall. As a moderate germaphobe, she washed her hands, and turned off the sink with the paper towel, and used the same towel to pull open the door.

  Noah lingered at the bar over a beer. She rushed up, flapping her arms like one of Estelle’s geese. “Oh my gosh! Noah! Betty Anne confessed!”

  Chapter 35

  Harper’s story had to wait. Betty Anne said her good-byes and left. Harper and Noah followed her out. Before they could make contact, she and Berit jumped into a black limo waiting at the curb and drove away.

  The duo headed for their car. Oddly, despite the packed parking lot, the spaces on either side of the car were empty.

  They shared a smile. “Admit it,” she said, channeling his earlier comment about Harriet. “Harvey is growing on you.”

  She waited for him to jump on that opening.

  He did and moved close. “Like flesh eating bacteria?”

  For some reason, there was no bite in his words. He was too busy examining her mouth. She had to avert his attention or lose all rational thought.

  “Before you kiss me again,” she said. “Do you want to hear Betty Anne’s confession?”

  He tore his eyes away from her lips. “Can’t this wait until after I kiss off your berry lip gloss?”

  “It cannot.” She loved that he remembered she wore fruity lip gloss. It had been her thing since grade school. Not an exciting “thing” but hers none-the-less. “Confession first. Then maybe kissing.”

  Groaning, he didn’t step back. He wanted to make sure she didn’t escape part two of the plan.

  His mouth was kissable, too. She didn’t want to forgo lip exploration either. So she rushed through the brief conversation she’d overheard in the bathroom.

  When finished, Noah leaned his butt against the car and peered down at her in the dim light. “That’s it?”

  Not the reaction she expected. “What do you mean, that’s it? She threatened him with harm.”

  “Yes. But it could mean several things unrelated to the stabbing. Remember that she threatened to run him over, too.” A car drove past and paused their conversation. “She could’ve been putting ground glass in his food. She could be having sex with his best friend. She might be sabotaging his business. What she said was not enough to accuse her of murder.”

  The desire to kiss him passed. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. We finally get evidence and you knock it down.”

  He pushed off the car, backed her against the vehicle in his place. “I’m not saying it isn’t a start. I just don’t want you to put your hopes on a few words of dialogue in the women’s bathroom.”

  Sigh. Men.

  “As usual, a man doesn’t understand the power of the women’s bathroom.” She put up her hands lest he try to move to part two. Smarting, she wasn’t in the mood. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Women’s bladders are not on the same schedule when we go out to bars or restaurants. We go in pairs or groups to the ladies’ room so we can gossip about our dates.”

  “Isn’t that an urban legend?”

  “It is not.” She flattened her hands on his chest. His muscles twitched. “Prior to sleeping with Mark Antony, Cleopatra ran the idea past her handmaidens in the bathing room.”

  “I’m sure that isn’t true.”

  “So you say.” It was impossible to stay annoyed with him while staring into his eyes. “Before Mrs. Claus married Santa, her best friend dragged her into a bathroom and talked her through the pros and cons of marrying a man whose large, jolly belly was an early indicator of a possible future cardiac episode.”

  “You’re making that up.” Noah breathed on her skin. “I think her friends would be more concerned with how much time he spends with the elves.”

  Harper slid her hands up to his shoulders. He had excellent shoulders. “Regardless, don’t underestimate the power of female conversation in the lavatory.”

  Nipping her neck, his lips tickled and she wriggled. This evening was headed off the rails. Resistance was futile. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The mystery was how to get there without losing her mind, and heart, to her PI.

  “I’d like to know what you’d say about me.”

  Sighing, she said, “I’d tell my friends that you’re cute and exasperating and too free with your hands.”

  His hand slid off her right cheek. “I have no idea how that happened.”

  Sure. “It must be possessed by demons.”

  “Uh, huh.” He kissed his way up to her mouth and stopped. “I’ll tell you what I am possessed by. How much I’ll enjoy this kiss.” His mouth came down on hers. His hand went back to her butt and he pulled her against the length of his erection.

  Yum. For everything wrong about reviving a long dead relationship, kissing Noah felt right, and feeling how much he wanted her sent her desire off the charts.

  Shivering in the cool air, she pressed against him, and his free hand slipped around her back, locking her in place.

  The kiss deepened and she fell back against the car to keep upright. He went with her. The thin fabric of the dress served as an ineffective barrier to passion.

  “I want to make love with you,” he said against her mouth.

  “Then you’d better get me home.”

  They were in the car and on the road quicker than she could smooth down her dress where he’d crumpled the fabric with his hands. Noah drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her knee. Every time he hit a bump or pothole, it drifted north.

  Soon, his fingers were so close to her lady bits that she was heated and intensely focused on his hand position.

  “You’re killing me, Noah,” she groaned.

  His fingers slid under her hem. A couple brushed her panties. She opened her legs. His exploration became hampered by the dress. It was too tight for proper teasing. She’d have to pull it up above her waist to allow full play.

  Images of a car crash and the responding ME’s finding her crumpled body with her dress up and her panties down dampened the mood. She was adventurous, but not that much.

  “I don’t know if I can make it home,” she said, squirming in the seat as she reached over to cup his cock with her left hand. “Drive faster.”

  He grinned. “I have an idea.” He took the next exit and found a quiet country road. Since much of the area between Novi and Ann Arbor wasn’t densely populated, it wasn’t difficult to find privacy.

  Two cornfields followed each side of the road, the corn well over head height. A yellow light on a farm house farther down showed a decent distance from prying eyes.

  “Good enough.” She pounced.

  Noah barely got the car into park. Kissing his face, Harper tugged at his bowtie. He shoved up her dress. They managed to get their clothes askew before Noah came up for air.

  “We have to get outside. I’m not making love in this wreck.”

  “Nuh-uh,” she said and kissed the fine hairs on his chest. “Too many mosquitoes.” Michigan residents called the plentiful blood-sucking insects the state bird for a reason. “There’s no way I’m getting my bu
tt chewed up for an orgasm.”

  Freeing his erection and wrapping her hand around the length, the argument ended.

  “Damnit,” he grumbled. “Back seat!”

  Harper managed to get over the seat, despite the dress restriction, and fell back, giving an unfettered view of her hip and panties.

  “I can’t believe you still have the tattoo,” he said, his breath coming in gasps. “Me, too.”

  Harper didn’t have time to respond or contemplate the reasons neither of them had them removed, and what that meant. Her brain filled with Noah and his cock sticking out of his open zipper. Her clitoris throbbed with need.

  He exited the car, pulled a condom from his wallet, smacked the back of his neck, and hurried back in.

  The interior of the vehicle was not made for a guy of Noah’s height. She giggled as he tried to position over her. Foreplay was limited. He bent to kiss her breasts and she caressed his chest, his back, and his shoulders. She shifted to find a workable position for optimal penetration.

  “Ouch, shit!”

  Harper froze, her mind floating in a rapturous fog. Okay, she was shooting for rapturous, like in romance novels. Right now all she could manage was slightly giddy. “What?”

  “You just kneed me in the balls.”

  “Sorry.” She reached between them and caressed the offended pair. He seemed happy with that. His pained expression faded quickly.

  They were soon panting from the exertion of giving into need and trying not to further injure any body parts. The windows were fogged up from heavy breathing.

  “I feel like I should have brought wine and flowers,” he said and ripped the condom package open with his teeth. He managed to slip it over his cock with one hand.

  The man could teach a sex ed class. No bananas required.

  “Shut up and take me, Slade.” It took maneuvering to complete the taking. Harper had one foot braced on the console and the other leg hooked over the back seat. Noah was on his knees, or rather one knee. The other kept falling off the seat.