CHAPTER SIX

“Do you two want to get a room?” Max asked.

Jock lost the grin and stared deep into my eyes. “I don’t know.” He paused. “Do we?”

A nervous giggle escaped me, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. The thought of consummating our relationship almost gave me heart failure. That’s not to say I hadn’t considered it. I had. I just didn’t know how wise it’d be to sleep with an employee who was Hercules in the flesh, who had women falling at his feet, who made my heartbeat race.

Then there was Romero. Gorgeous. Stubborn. Macho. Cop.

All right. So I had two hot men in my life who triggered erotic thoughts…thoughts I’d never experienced before. I had determination. I could keep those thoughts bottled away.

“Don’t be funny.” I stiffened at Max.

“Who’s joking?” he retorted.

I pushed past both of them and exited the building. Things were getting complicated, and I needed a moment to think clearly.

Max was on my heels, babbling about me losing my undies, and I whipped around like a shot.

“Look. My day started with me poking and burning my eye with a mascara wand, then progressed to worse when my hair wouldn’t cooperate.” I raked a finger through my hairline, silently blaspheming it. “Then, it got even more interesting when I discovered a fat dildo on my porch. If that wasn’t an indicator that I should’ve gone back to bed, discovering Jimmy’s dead cousin was.”

Max opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut when I swung my palm an inch from his face.

“Now,” I continued, “we have an escaped psychopath who’s scaring me senseless, photos that show Dooley was stalking me, plus, there’s a murderer who may have had it in for Dooley or who may be a serial killer. Only time will tell. On top of all this, questioning Luther Boyle about Ziggy proved futile.”

I stamped to Daisy Bug, unlocked the doors, and smacked my hand on the roof. “And to round things off, Jock’s planning something devious which may or may not involve the removal of undies, you’ve got an obsession with a bread maker, and Romero’s apparently got a pack of bloodhounds trailing me.”

Max sniffed, his nose out of joint. “I’d rather not be referred to as a bloodhound…if you don’t mind.”

Oh brother. “Where’d Jock go anyway?”

Max looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know. I think he went to talk to Darryl.”

“Wonderful. Well, I’m not hanging around here another minute.”

Max scooted to the other side of the car and hopped inside like I was Batman and he was Robin. “Where are we going next?”

I angled into the car and slid the key in the ignition. “I’m not sure. But something Luther said back there got me thinking.”

“About what?”

I fixed my gaze on the dashboard, going over the recent conversation, but I couldn’t retrieve what he’d said that struck a chord. “It’ll come to me.”

“I can tell you this.” Max faced me. “If Luther was telling the truth, and he really doesn’t know where Ziggy is, you’d better have eyes in the back of your head, because, that dildo, sugar? That was a direct calling card.”

His voice was stern. “And if you don’t like the bloodhounds Romero assigned to you, then you’d better start looking for killer German shepherds to guard you because you’re going to need protection.” He spun forward, jerked his seatbelt across his toned abs, and clicked it loudly into place.

Drama queen. I started the engine, thinking of a way I could dump Max, when my cell phone chimed in my bag, shattering what was left of my fragile nerves.

I dragged it out and sighed at the readout. My mother.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Max said.

I blinked miserably at him and answered the phone.

Just my luck. I’d forgotten that this afternoon I was supposed to pick up Tantig, my father’s aunt. She had recently moved in with my parents, and I’d agreed to take her to Kuruc’s European Deli.

My parents lived in Burlington, and Kuruc’s was in Rueland, down and across the street from my shop. A short drive from one town to the other, but not something I wished to do at the moment.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking about my obligations. Darn. Not only had I forgotten about Tantig, but I’d sworn I was going to drop off the new stack of magazines at the salon that were piling up in my trunk and that I kept forgetting about when I went to work. Why did everything have to happen at once? Well, I wasn’t going to make a bunch of trips. And I needed to get Max off my back.

Hold on. The shop was a short drive from Jimmy’s, where a certain bread machine was calling Max’s name. And Jimmy’s was on a route I could take to my parents’. Hmm. Drop off the magazines. Lose Max. Pick up Tantig.

I hadn’t solved a Rubik’s Cube, and I’d probably never understand the stock market, but this felt pretty damn good.

I told my mother I’d be there in an hour, then hung up with a smart plan in place. “How’d you like to get that bread maker?” I smiled shrewdly at Max.

He cut me a sidelong glance. “What do you have going on in that sweet head of yours?”

Even when Max suspected me of double-dealing, he remained complimentary. “Nothing immoral. I promised my mother I’d take Tantig to Kuruc’s. She’s making Armenian sarma today and needs more grape leaves.”

He sliced me a suspicious look. “Why can’t your mother take her?”

“Because she’s up to her elbows baking for the Christmas bazaar. And before you ask about my father, he’s in a bowling tournament today.”

He pursed his lips like he was considering whether to believe all this. “I fail to see where I come in with the bread maker.”

I revved the engine, offering him a coaxing grin. “I need to drop off some magazines at the shop, and then we’ll be passing right by Jimmy’s. You know you’re dying to try that machine.”

He tilted his head in agreement and stared straight ahead. “Okay. To Jimmy’s.”

I smiled so wide that my idea was working I probably resembled the village idiot. I reined in my enthusiasm, gave a firm nod, and before Max figured out my ruse, I zoomed out of the parking lot.

* * *

“This isn’t the way to Jimmy’s,” Max commented twenty minutes later. We cruised down Darling, nearing the shop. “And there’s Kuruc’s. Why not pick up the grape leaves now?”

We passed the bank and Rueland Travel on our right. The drugstore, Dilly’s Florist, and Kuruc’s—where I’d be returning to later—were on our left.

“It’s a shortcut. I want to drop off the magazines first, remember?” How could he remember when his head was filled with thoughts of pizza dough and pastry?

I eased up on the gas pedal. “And grape leaves aren’t the only item Tantig will want when we go to Kuruc’s. Last time I took her there, I had five bags of groceries to lug out to the car.”

I was about to turn into the parking lot I shared with Friar Tuck’s when Max clutched my arm and screamed.

“What the heck!” I slammed on the brakes, almost veering into the donut shop’s huge glass window.

“Look!” He pointed a shaky arm at my salon next door.

Drawn on the front window under the striped awning and swirly sign that read BEAUMONT’S was a large penis with a perm rod clipped around the base. The words I’M BAA-ACK were scribbled across it.

I moved to the edge of my seat and blinked twice. How much more were things going to escalate? The dildo delivery this morning was bad enough. If there was any doubt earlier, this seemed to point straight at Stoaks.

Determined to remain calm, I took a cautious glance out my driver’s-side window. “Good thing it’s Sunday and traffic is slow. Maybe nobody’s seen it.”

Three cars whizzed by, and one driver blared the horn.

“Nobody’s seen it!” Max gaped back at the shop. “Look at it! It’s bold and black and standing as erect as the Bunker Hill Monument.”

The drawing was nowhere near the size of the tower built to commemorate the historic Revolutionary War battle, but tell Max that.

I swerved into the parking lot past Friar Tuck’s mini stone castle and screeched to a stop behind the buildings. I clasped my bag and we raced inside the shop, flicking on the lights on the way to the dispensary—our supply room and hangout between clients. Max ran soapy water into a bucket. I called the police on the French provincial phone that sat on the counter across from the sink.

“Don’t clean the window yet.” I set the fancy handset back on its cradle. “The police will want to see it.” Like I was looking forward to that.

Within minutes, two uniforms arrived with another ID unit. Romero was nowhere in sight. I was looking up in silent prayer about that when my cell phone jingled.

I retrieved my bag from the counter in the dispensary and hauled out my phone, not too thrilled that the readout said it was Romero.

“Heard you had some excitement at the salon.”

Boy, news traveled fast. “You could say that.”

“Max with you?”

Max was outside with the cops, making grand sweeping gestures at the front window. I tightened my grip on the phone, irked that Romero had assigned Max to stick by my side. “Yes.” But not for long, I thought smugly.

“Good. Stoaks is having his fun, but he’ll slip up. Don’t worry. We’ll catch him.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being chased by a fake penis.

“Before we go on,” he said, “thought you might like to know the time of Dooley’s death puts it at roughly 10:45 p.m. Also, Jimmy’s alibi is rock-solid. He didn’t leave the poker game until after one in the morning.”

I gave an inward huff. I didn’t need to be told Jimmy was innocent. “Terrific.”

I watched a cop take photos and dust the glass outside. “Any news on the real apparatus? Fingerprints? Date or store where it was purchased?”

“Nothing.” He gave a tired exhale. “Checked every adult-merchandise shop from Norfolt to Rueland. Sex toys are extremely popular, and dildos are bought as often as bubblegum. Every size and color under the rainbow.”

“What? Who cares about style preferences? We simply need to know if a guy with a limp purchased one sometime in the hours before it was placed on my porch.”

“First of all…” Romero cleared his throat. “The limp is no longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“The file on Stoaks states he had a large gash on his calf at the time of the perm-rod incident. Seems one of his puppy-mill pups had taken a chunk out of his leg, causing a temporary limp. But the undeserving bastard healed.”

Lucky for him. If he hadn’t been sitting by his lawyer the whole time during the trial, I might have noticed this for myself.

“And if I had the manpower,” Romero continued, “I’d search every store in the state of Massachusetts. But the truth is, Stoaks wouldn’t have used a credit card unless he’d stolen it, and without some type of tracking, a search is almost impossible. However, if we could locate the correct store, and he’d lifted the dildo but used a stolen credit card on other purchases, we might be able to track him. But again, that would take a lot more manpower than I have.”

“Great.”

“Doesn’t make me happy either. Stoaks is our most likely suspect and a convicted murderer on the run. When it comes down to it, the details of the acquired dildo are immaterial. We’re going to catch the snake whether he delivered the item to your door or not.”

“Good to hear.” I paced back and forth behind the four ivory-colored styling chairs in the salon, the grapevines and twinkling lights that wove across the four wood-framed mirrors on the wall catching my eye. “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?”

Oops. I’d forgotten Romero thought I’d done my duty today, holding Jimmy’s hand and dropping off the photos at the police station. Of course, I wasn’t sure what his bloodhounds had reported. But all things considered, I wasn’t going to ask. “I mean you…and Rueland’s wonderful police department.”

“I know what you mean. And I think we’ve been down this road before.” I could’ve sworn I heard him growl. “Before I completely lose my cool, you want to tell me why you went to Rivers View to visit Luther Boyle?”

Aha. I opened my mouth to respond, but his voice increased another decibel. “Bad enough you’re in the middle of this whole damn murder mess. You had no business going to a correctional facility to question an inmate about Stoaks.”

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up at his tone. “And you had no business leashing Max and Jock to my side until death do us part.”

I was glad I couldn’t see Romero. I had a feeling his strong hands were clenching, his unshaved jaw tensing.

“If you’re not careful,” he ground out, “death will come sooner than you think.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant by the hands of a killer like Ziggy or by the hands of a particular detective. Either way, I wasn’t going to stand here and listen to any more threats.

I snatched a hairbrush from my station’s drawer and rapped it lightly on the side of my phone, causing a bristly, scratching sound. “What? Can’t hear you. You’re breaking up…”

“Valentine—”

I disconnected with a self-satisfied click, tossed the brush in the drawer, and dropped my phone in my bag.

After the cops finished their business, I dug out some rags, and Max and I cleaned the front window. Just as we were splashing it with fresh water, the pimply-faced kid who worked at Friar Tuck’s sauntered outside in his medieval tunic and felt crown.

“Gee,” he croaked. “What’d you do that for?”

“Excuse me?” I wiped away a bead of water running down the front of my jacket.

“Why’d you wash off the cool artwork? It’s the talk of the town.”

“Grand.” I picked up the wet rags from the ground. “Did you happen to see who painted the cool artwork?”

He shrugged. “Nope. Too busy serving coffee and donuts.”

“What about anyone else?” I gestured to the bakery. “Someone must’ve seen something.”

“Nope. Cops came by, asked the same questions. All I saw were pictures on everyone’s phones. None showed Michelangelo at work.” He hunched forward and traipsed back into Friar Tuck’s.

Max rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised that kid can roll a donut in sugar.” He straightened. “Hey, that’s something else I can make with the bread machine. Donuts!”

I dumped the rags in the bucket. “Right. Jimmy’s awaits.”

And I could leave behind a bloodhound.