Intrigued, Justine followed him to the cage on the counter. Chris had pulled the satin covering aside and tied it with the purple tassels. She rubbed the silky material between her fingers. Satin. Her jaw dropped in astonishment. Last night the covering had been made of filmy gauze, although she had thought it was satin before.
Now it was satin again. Was she losing her mind? Shaking her head, she peered to where Chris pointed. Two small name plates, made of some type of beaten metal, were nailed to the bottom front of the cage. How had she missed them?
"Mini and Reuben,” she read aloud. She straightened and put a hand to her head, dazed. “I can't believe I missed this, and last night I was sure this material was...” She trailed off when she realized Chris was giving her an odd look. As if he doubted her sanity. “Never mind. Mini and Reuben it is. Now, what seems to be the problem?"
"See for yourself,” Chris said, indicating the male lovebird.
Justine looked, her brow furrowing with concern. Chris was right; the bird didn't look well. He appeared listless, hanging his head as if he couldn't hold it upright. “Do you suppose he ate some bad seeds or something?"
"Smells like he got drunk,” Chris joked. “I could have sworn I smelled wine when I pulled back the covering."
"Very funny.” Justine suddenly remembered the violent incident yesterday between the two birds. She pinned her suspicious gaze on Mini, who was regarding her with an intensity that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. “Did you do something to him, Mini?"
Mini gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
Justine gasped. “Did you see that, Chris? Did you see her shake her head?"
"Yeah, right. And pigs fly."
"No, she did! I saw her...” Justine bit her lip, suddenly realizing how crazy she sounded. It had to have been a coincidence. Yes, a coincidence, or a trick of the light. Some birds were smarter than others, but no matter how smart they were, she knew they couldn't understand her.
"Well, we'll keep an eye on him today. If he gets worse, I'll call Melissa and see what she thinks.” Melissa Copeland was the local vet Justine used when the need arose. Exotic animals and birds weren't exactly her area of expertise, but Justine respected her opinion.
The box of candy arrived at noon. Justine accepted the ribbon-wrapped box from the florist with a frozen smile and a feeling of dread. She was beginning to think she'd made a serious mistake in encouraging Barry. If he called her once a week when she said no, sent her roses and flowers when she said yes, what would he do when she actually went out with him again?
She read the card without much interest. “So glad you changed your mind.” He was beginning to sound like a broken record, as well. How would she get through dinner with this man? Had she really once believed herself in love with him?
Her reluctance continued to build throughout the day. The only highlight was the lovebirds’ apparent recovery, for which Justine was very thankful. Despite their peculiar nature, she'd grown fond of the birds. She would find someone very special for two special birds.
By the time she closed the shop and trudged up the snow-covered stairs to her apartment to get ready for her date with Barry, Justine's feet were dragging.
Zack was running late. He'd called a meeting at the local pizza parlor to go over the team's strategy for the upcoming game Monday night and had lost track of time. Zack grinned as he recalled their enthusiasm. The boys were geared to win—he felt it in his gut.
Humming a jaunty tune beneath his breath, Zack turned the shower on and stripped his clothes off, anticipating a good hot spray to take the chill from his body. At least it wasn't snowing today, he thought, stepping beneath the water.
The water was frigid.
Not lukewarm—hell, he was used to that—but icy cold. Frigid. Gritting his teeth, Zack quickly soaped himself from head to toe and rinsed off. He wrenched the faucets so hard they squealed in protest before he stepped out of the shower. Well? What had he expected? He'd declared war when he left the man dripping in the hall like a fool.
Cursing beneath his breath, Zack dried himself and stomped to his bedroom. He was dressed and ready to leave in record time, and a quick glance at his watch told him that he just might make it by eight-thirty.
Despite the late hour, the restaurant was crowded. Zack wasted precious time finding a suitable parking space, then another five minutes waiting in line before he caught a passing waiter's attention.
"I'm supposed to meet Justine Diamond here,” he told the young boy.
The waiter shook his head. “Don't know her, but you're welcome to look around.” He hurried away before Zack could ask him where the non-smoking section was located.
Left on his own, Zack strolled casually into the spacious dining room and looked around. He spotted Justine seated at a table against the south wall. Anticipating her smile, he moved through the tables until he reached her. She hadn't noticed him, intent on the salad before her.
"Fancy meeting you here,” he teased.
With a visible start, she glanced up. “Zack!"
Zack's smile died before it began at her surprised expression. Why would she be surprised to see him? They had a date! Her next words added to his confusion.
"What are you doing here?"
"Yeah, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice demanded belligerently behind him.
Zack turned to find his neighbor glaring at him. He held a glass platter piled high with salad greens and topped with a rancid-smelling dressing. Zack glared back; he hadn't forgotten the cold shower he'd taken a short while ago. “I'm here to do what people normally do in a restaurant—eat dinner."
"You two know each other?” Justine squeaked, throwing her napkin aside and rising.
Zack looked at her in surprise. “Do you know him?"
"He's—he's my date,” she informed him. “Zack—this is Barry Fowler. Barry—"
"I know who he is,” Barry interrupted. “The question is, how do you know him?"
Zack wasn't listening. She'd called Barry her date. Worst of all, she didn't sound the least bit remorseful for the cold-blooded stunt she'd pulled. It had all been a set up on her part, he realized, more than a little stunned to discover the woman he loved was capable of such a brutal maneuver. She'd wanted him to see her with Barry, wanted to rub his nose in it.
Wanted to convince him she didn't care? Zack pondered the question as Justine and Barry discussed him as if he wasn't there. Why would she go to such lengths when all she had to do was ignore him? He'd eventually get the point. Unless...unless it wasn't just him she was trying to convince.
The possibility made Zack more determined than ever to find out why Justine was afraid of him—of their feelings for each other. Why did she fight it? What happened to change her mind?
"Well, that settles it, then,” Barry gloated. “The lady told you she already had plans for the evening, and as you can see for yourself..."
Zack cleared his mind and focused on the jerk standing before him. So they thought he'd apologize, excuse himself, and just walk away? Over his dead body.
"I'd be more than happy to join you,” Zack said, deliberately misconstruing Barry's words. He signaled a passing waitress and pulled out a chair. As he opened the menu the waitress set before him, he glanced at Justine. She looked so horrified, he had no trouble summoning a smile. “Sorry about the mix-up. I guess I didn't get your message when you called to cancel."
"I didn't call to cancel,” Justine whispered furiously.
"Ah, but you said you told me you already had plans—"
"I never accepted in the first place!” Her voice rose on the last octave, drawing several interested gazes from tables nearby.
Zack cocked an admiring brow. “I never knew you were such a good liar, Justine.” As she sputtered indignantly, he lifted the menu and pretended to study it. He saw nothing but red and was amazed his anger didn't show. “So, what's good? Has anyone ordered yet?"
"This is ridiculous!�
� Barry announced, an angry red flush creeping up his neck. He threw his napkin aside and came to his feet. “I refuse to eat with this—this—"
"Hot water stealer?” Zack supplied helpfully. “But then, that would be like the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't it?"
"I've lived in that apartment for five years!"
"Ah, territorial, are we?” Zack clucked his tongue and shook his head. “In the lease I signed, I don't recall reading anything about you having first dibs on the hot water."
Justine didn't know which man she wanted to strangle the most. She cleared her throat—loudly. When that didn't get their attention, she banged her spoon against her glass. They already had the attention of at least a dozen or so diners, so what did a few more matter? “Excuse me? Boys? Gentlemen?"
"What about that dirty trick you pulled on me yesterday?” Barry demanded as if he hadn't heard Justine.
"Wasn't any worse than the trick you've been pulling on me since I moved in. Yesterday was the first time I've enjoyed a hot shower, thanks to you."
"Ha!"
"Ha, yourself."
"Wait a minute!” Justine shouted. That got their attention. She lowered her voice to a furious growl. “If you don't quiet down we're going to get thrown out of here."
A shadow fell across the table before she finished her warning. Zack and Barry fell silent, both scowling as they turned to see who had dared to interrupt them. Justine turned as well, nearly missing the satisfied glint in Zack's eyes.
It was the manager, and he didn't look happy.
Justine groaned, her face heating with embarrassment. Cannon Bay was about to experience its first double homicide, she thought darkly.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
Getting thrown out of a busy restaurant wasn't Justine's most embarrassing moment, but it was close.
She was mad enough to spit ice cubes. It was partly, she admitted to herself, because she felt humiliated. Barry and Zack had not been fighting over her, but over hot water. Hot water! She stifled a dry, disbelieving laugh. How flattered could a girl be?
"Come on, Justine.” Barry grabbed her arm. “We'll just go to another restaurant."
"She's going with me.” Zack grabbed her other arm, and to her amazement, they began to tug her back and forth.
Had she really been humiliated a moment ago because they hadn't been fighting over her? What irony. She wrenched both arms free, glaring at Barry, then at Zack. “I'll take a cab, thank you."
"But you came with me!” Barry protested, stamping his feet against the cold.
Zack dared to close his fingers over her arm again. “We've got things to talk about. You're coming with me."
Of all the nerve! First he crashed her date, then got them thrown out of the restaurant, and now he was demanding she go with him? Justine blew out an angry breath; it frosted in front of her, reminding her that it wouldn't be long before they all froze to death. She knew two men whose deaths she wouldn't mourn!
Jerking her arm loose again, she ignored Zack for the moment. “First of all,” she told Barry, her tone as icy as the weather, “I agreed to have dinner with you, and since we can't have dinner, the date is over."
"But—"
Justine held up a detaining hand. “Apparently hot water was more important to you than having dinner with me."
"But, he started—"
"I don't care who started it,” she interrupted furiously. She couldn't believe that she had never noticed Barry's lack of maturity—or Zack's, for that matter. “All I know is that you both embarrassed me in front of a crowd, and some of those people are people I'll have to face next week as customers.” Now would have been a good time for Barry to apologize.
She should have known he wouldn't.
"Well, then. If that's the way you feel.” Barry drew himself up, yanking the collar of his London Fog coat over his red ears. “Goodnight, Justine."
Justine watched him stomp through the snow to his sleek new sedan. When he'd gone in a spin of tires, she let out a shaky breath. What a night! One down, one to go.
"You won't get rid of me that easily,” Zack said, as if he could read her mind. “We need to talk."
Justine managed to lift a cool brow. “The same kind of talking we did last night? I don't think so.” She started back inside the restaurant to call a cab.
Zack grabbed the hood of her coat and pulled her back. She slipped on the snow-packed ground, but he quickly steadied her. His voice was low and angry in her ear. “I think you owe me an apology."
His outrageous comment startled a disbelieving laugh out of Justine. Eyes wide, she swung around to face him. “Are you out of your mind?” He must be. Completely. “Me apologize to you? You crashed my date. You also deliberately started a fight with Barry.” She knew she had hit a nerve when she saw his jaw tighten. So it was true!
"I didn't crash your date.” The look he gave her was unmistakably skeptical. “Don't tell me you don't remember calling me from the store last night and telling me you changed your mind?"
Justine gaped at him. “I did not call you last night! You called me. And further more, I couldn't have called you from the store because I was in my apartment.” Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Justine fumed silently. Did he really think she would believe him?
"I have the proof on my caller ID."
His smug expression sent a chill down Justine's spine. For the first time since the argument started, she realized he was serious. He truly believed she had called him. The thought prompted a puzzling question that had been nagging at her all day, one she had meant to ask Barry. “Zack, there was a rose on my doorstep—"
"So you did get it."
"You sent it?"
"Who else would talk about being glad you changed your mind?"
Another chill skirted down her spine, leaving an icy trail behind. She shivered. “I'd like to see for myself, if you don't mind.” If the store's number was on his caller ID, then it meant someone had called him from the store. Which meant...someone had to have been inside the store last night.
And from what she could gather, that someone had pretended to be her.
Mini snatched the crystal ball from Reuben's hands. “What are they talking about? What's a ‘caller ID'? “
"I'm as lost as you are,” Reuben said with a puzzled frown. “But whatever it is, we've got to get rid of it."
"But we can't, Reuben,” Mini wailed. “I doubt our magic will reach that far, and we can't go flying around in this kind of weather! The Peacemaker warned us that we are far more vulnerable as birds because of our diminished powers."
"We could use a warming spell,” he suggested. “I could fly like the—"
"You?” Mini blinked away sappy tears. “You would do this for me?"
"For us,” Reuben corrected. “We're in this together, remember?"
Mini was suddenly gripped with a terrible fear. “No, it's too dangerous. I won't let you.” She flung herself into his arms and wrapped her wings around him as if to physically hold him in place. “I couldn't stand it if something happened to you!"
"Now, now, dear. Nothing will happen to me. I'll be back before you know it.” He gently disengaged her wings and pushed her back. “You do the warming spell. You're much better at those type of things."
His compliment made Mini blush. She gave a shuddering sigh, realizing that Reuben was determined to go through with it. She knew better than anyone how impossible it was to change a warlock's mind once it was made up. Well, she'd just have to make sure he stayed warm during the trip. Folding her wings across her breasts, she closed her eyes and began to chant. When she was finished, she swept her wing in the direction of the front door. The locked clicked open.
Reuben stroked her cheek. “I'll be back in a flash."
When he'd gone, Mini withdrew her tiny crystal ball and anxiously followed his progress. She knew she wouldn't relax a single feather until her husband was safe and sound again.
> Zack unlocked his apartment door and had just stepped inside when he heard the noise. He paused. Justine bumped into him, her soft gasp cut short as he put a finger to her lips. “Stay here,” he whispered. “I heard something."
"What is it?"
"Just stay here,” he commanded again. Before he'd taken his first step, she thrust a small cylinder-shaped object into his hand. It was ice cold.
"Pepper spray."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome,” she whispered back.
He crept down the dark hall to the living room, wishing he had something more substantial than a can of pepper spray and his car keys to use as a weapon.
The light switch lay to his left. Stretching his hand along the wall, he felt around until he found it. He flipped it on. Harsh light illuminated the empty room. Next, Zack searched the kitchen, and then the bedroom before he was satisfied they were alone.
"You can come on in now,” he told Justine. When she came into sight, he pointed to the floor. “They're gone, but someone was in here. They knocked the phone off the table and the batteries popped out. They also left the window open.” He retrieved the phone, cursing when he saw that it was dead—and his proof with it. Imagine that.
"You're on the second floor. How could they have gotten in?” She shivered as a draft of cold air blew across the room, but he noticed that she didn't look frightened.
Zack strode to the window and slammed it shut. “Fire escape right outside,” he explained shortly, although he highly doubted anyone could have navigated the slick, icy surface coating the frame.
Everything looked damned convenient, even to his eyes. He could only imagine what Justine was thinking.
"Would you like something to drink?” he asked, bracing himself as he turned. He fully expected an accusation, but instead she nodded, looking every bit as puzzled as he felt.
"Anything warm would be fine. Zack, do you have any idea who it could have been and what they could have wanted? Is anything missing?"
Although Zack was pretty certain nothing was missing, he gave the room another glance. “No, nothing that I can see. As for a suspect, I haven't a clue. Motive?” His lips twisted in a derisive smile. “They wrecked the phone, erasing my proof that you called me last night."
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