CHAPTER FIVE

I traveled south of Boston until we entered the pretty town of Norfolt. Leaves scattered from trees, and the sun beamed down on gazebos, churches, a library, and quaint-looking shops. A virtual fall-destination postcard. The library had a sign on the lawn stating the day and time of the next town hall meeting.

“I think we’ve arrived in Stars Hollow,” Max purred.

“Stars Hollow?”

He sighed in frustration. “You know! Gilmore Girls? Luke’s Diner? Luke? Who, by the way, bears a striking resemblance to that handsome cop of yours.”

I smiled, remembering the show I’d watched as a teen. And laughing at Luke’s grouchy disposition. Undeniably, there were similarities to Romero. “You want me to drop you off so you can find Luke and the gang?”

“Don’t be funny. I loved Stars Hollow. It reminded me of Rueland.”

“Rueland is a lot bigger than Stars Hollow. And Rueland—” I clamped my mouth shut. Why was I debating Max about Rueland and a fictional town? “If you like Rueland so much, why not move there? It’d be handier than driving back and forth to Waltham every day.” This wasn’t an issue for Max since he powered his car with rocket fuel and arrived at work in less time than it took to paint my nails.

“All in good time, lovey. All in good time.”

We picked up a couple of take-out slices of pizza from a quaint restaurant, and Max yammered on about the bread machine. “This pizza’s paper thin. See how the toppings stick like glue? If I had a certain bread machine—whose past owner shall remain nameless—you could have all the pizzas you like. The toppings would be so fresh they’d be begging you to take a bite. And it’d all be because of the scrumptious homemade dough.”

I turned over the engine, shot him a look, and gnawed on my pizza. We drove out of the colonial area in silence, past homes, forests, and the odd farm. Five miles south of Norfolt, I exited down a quiet paved road. After a few twists and turns, we arrived at our destination.

The gate boasted a sign that said Rivers View Correctional Center. Beside the name was a logo depicting jail bars with water streaming through them. Not sure how I felt about being here, I took a brave breath and rolled past the gate into the facility’s parking lot.

Rivers View was a large square building with a series of smaller buildings set behind the main structure. Hotel accommodations for the inmates, complete with barbed-wire fencing.

Max and I assessed the grounds in doubtful reserve. Neither one of us said anything, but if his thoughts were in tune with mine, we were in trouble.

“Bottoms up,” he ventured at last, cheering with an invisible glass.

We paraded into the main building, where we were searched and asked to show our identification. The uniforms hadn’t mentioned my past. But by the glint in their eyes, I was convinced they knew. I’d seen the same glint so many times, it was a wonder I’d never been blinded by all the sparks. After they looked in my bag, they shared another look. Then I was told to lock my belongings in my car.

Max yanked me off to the side in a huff. “What’d you bring that in here for? You know it’s an arsenal of beauty weapons.”

Like I was going to break an inmate out of jail with a jar of face cream. I shook my head in disgust, ignoring the surrounding monitors. Fine. I didn’t argue the point. It was a good point, too, considering my history of catching crooks using my beauty tools.

Once we were deemed worthy to proceed, I asked if visiting hours had begun. We were in luck. It was one o’clock. Visiting hours were about to kick off. But we hadn’t been pre-approved to see Luther Boyle. This posed a problem.

“Now what?” Max pushed me into the main visitors’ section, hounding me like I was an oracle with all the answers.

Overlooking his expectant stare, I turned for inspiration to the chatty crowd lined up at the visitation room door.

“Get back in line, you little turd!” a woman’s voice bellowed over the others.

Immediately, a hush fell over the crowd, and a tall, well-built man in a suit and tie, who I assumed was the warden, hustled over to see what the trouble was. That’s when I caught a glimpse of the trouble.

I blinked twice in disbelief. But there was no mistaking it. Candace Needlemeyer. Archenemy number one. Her blond hair was twisted up in a bun, and she was shaking her fake boobs furiously in Little Turd’s face.

“What’s Candace doing here?” Max wanted to know.

“Maybe she’s training to be a guard,” I said, half joking.

“Maybe she’s here to do someone’s hair.”

We looked at each other. Would Candace drive all the way from Supremo Stylists to Norfolt to do an inmate’s hair? “Nah,” we said in unison.

A small part of me still brooded over whether Candace was capable of planting a dildo on my porch. But I swept that thought aside and watched the warden usher her away from the short man and order them both to take a seat.

“That little turd thought he could sneak in front of me,” she argued. “Why do I have to sit?”

“You’ve been here before,” the warden said. “You should know better.”

Candace had been here before? Max and I looked at each other, eyebrows stretched to our hairlines.

She tightened her lips, strutted over to a chair, and before sitting, she reared her head in our direction.

“What are you gawking at?” She pranced over in her five-inch black stilettos, peering down her nose at me in my own four-inch heels.

“Hi to you, too, Candace.” I smiled sweetly. “We’re visiting an inmate.” Like we were going to market to buy a fat pig. “You?”

She folded her arms over her large silicone-filled breasts and tapped her toe on the tiled floor. “What do you know? We have something in common. I’m here to see an inmate, too. Family, actually.”

“I thought Charles Manson died,” Max said.

Candace narrowed her gaze on Max, and I could’ve sworn I saw flames.

I eyed her suspiciously, wondering again if she had been the culprit in this morning’s delivery. “Shouldn’t you be shopping for dildos to fill in for your next big date?” It was a low blow, but it took a lot to insult Candace.

She stuck her nose in the air. “I’ve never touched a dildo in my life.”

I sighed, deflated, because I had a feeling she was telling the truth.

“I’m here to see my grandpa, Two-Notes.”

“Two-Notes?” I put my previous thoughts to bed and concentrated on this name that had a familiar ring to it.

“What’s your grandpa doing here?” Max asked.

“None of your beeswax.” With that, she turned and huffed away.

I thought with some surprise how most people would’ve held their heads low when visiting a relative in prison. Not Candace. She’d said her grandpa’s name as if he were up for best actor of the year.

“Great,” I said. “Here I was thinking Candace might be our in.”

“An in for what?” a deep voice said behind us, startling both Max and me.

We whipped around and faced Jock looking all sexy and in control, like he had this morning at the restaurant after we’d discovered Dooley’s body…and before we’d discovered Dooley’s body.

“Uh…” Max stuttered.

I wasn’t going to be intimidated by Jock, even if Max was close to passing out from Mr. Argentina’s overpowering presence. I crossed my arms in front like Candace had, though I didn’t have the huge chest to go with the fierce attitude. “An in to see an inmate.”

“Who do you want to see?” Jock looked intrigued, but I wasn’t buying it.

“Luther Boyle,” I said matter-of-factly. “Know him?”

Jock grinned. “Know of him. In prison for murdering Max’s friend.” He paused, his look directed at me. “Heard he has several scars on his stomach due to wounds from the sharp end of a metal tail comb. Looks like he’d had his gallbladder removed laparoscopically.”

“Ha. Ha. So I punctured a few holes in him. He’s behind bars, isn’t he?”

“That, he is.”

“What are you doing here?” As if I didn’t already know.

“Same thing as you, I suspect. Looking for answers. Heard Luther’s friend Ziggy Stoaks escaped last night.”

I raised my chin. “I take it you heard this from Romero.”

His grin widened. “I swore scout’s honor I wouldn’t reveal where I learned it.”

Perfect. “I assume you also want to talk to Luther.”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

I looked over at the crowd. “Then why aren’t you in line like the rest of the visitors?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the warden. “Darryl’s giving me private access.”

“The plot thickens,” Max murmured.

I backhanded Max in the stomach, turning a deaf ear to his grunt. My gaze flitted from Jock, to the monitors, to the warden who was resettling in his glassed-in office, the glass, most likely, bulletproof. “This Darryl a friend of yours?”

“You could say that. He does a little stunt work on the side.”

As did Jock. Not only did he have a background in the navy, but he also did stunt-doubling when he could afford the time.

“We were in a film together a few years ago. Kept in touch.” He nodded toward the office where his black leather jacket hung on the back of a chair next to Darryl. “Had a good visit at lunch.”

I took this all in. “Since you’re on such good terms with Darryl, do you think he would let us in to question Luther Boyle?”

He crossed his arms, his muscles bulging through his long-sleeved, tightly knit shirt. “Let’s break this down. You haven’t been approved to visit Luther, have you?”

“Uh, no.”

“And you want me to fix it so you can.”

I forced myself to look him in the eye. “When you put it that way…yes.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Max gave a high whimper behind me.

“Anything you want,” I said, Miss Bold amongst a crowd.

“Anything?”

A spark of danger ignited in his eyes, and immediately I took back my words. “Maybe not…anything.”

He took a daunting step closer. His exotic citrus scent, mixed with the smell of leather that still clung to him, tested my self-control. “What about a nighttime ride on my Harley?”

I’d ridden on Jock’s bike once before and had almost kissed the ground when I’d gotten off. Not that I didn’t trust his driving skills, but some of us preferred a roof and four doors surrounding us when we drove.

I ordered my hormones to settle down and choked back a cough at his suggestion. “A nighttime ride? Where would we go?”

“You’ll see.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

I gulped back the promise of those words, ignoring the shiver racing through my body.

A bike ride wasn’t such a fuss. Probably cruise around Rueland and be home before bedtime. Thing was, I didn’t have a chance at seeing Luther Boyle without Jock’s help. I bit the bullet and put out my hand. “Deal.”

He looked from my eyes down to my hand, gripping it warmly in his.

I almost peed my pants from the strength and sensuality of his grasp. You’re such an idiot, Valentine. Acting all tough. Now look at the predicament you’re in.

I tightened my thighs and straightened my spine, showing how fearless I could be.

“Let me see what I can do.” He sauntered off to talk to Darryl.

As soon as his back was turned, Max slapped my shoulder. “Are you crazy?”

“Ow!” I rubbed my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You know what Jock’s going to do with you when he gets you alone on that bike?”

“Nothing,” I replied firmly.

“Nothing!” He lowered his voice. “Do you know how many riding positions there are on a motorcycle? And I don’t mean positions riding the highway.”

Max had gotten a lift in this morning on Jock’s bike and suddenly he was King of the Hog. Still, that didn’t make him sex expert Dr. Ruth.

I dragged him over to a private corner. “If I can get in to speak to Luther, I’ll give Jock a few hours of my time…even if it’s on his Harley.”

He dropped his chin to his chest. “You better be prepared to lose your undies in the process.” He grinned. “Jock’s proven to be proficient at removing those.”

I kept my expression neutral. Not that Max knew this, but the one time Jock got me naked, I wasn’t wearing undies.

* * *

Non-contact visitation was normally limited to two people at a time, but Darryl obviously made an exception in our case.

We tramped into a long room and took a cubicle behind a glass window. There were two chairs and two phones on our side of the glass, plus a small ledge. Max sat to my right, and Jock stood behind us like a guard.

I had to admit I was relieved I wouldn’t be able to reach out and touch Luther Boyle. I was doubly relieved he wouldn’t be able to reach out and strangle me.

I hiccupped back my unease at that thought and looked past the two women on my left to Candace. She scraped her chair up to the glass window, wiggled her tush until she was comfortable, then slanted forward, tapping her nails impatiently on the ledge in front of her.

I didn’t want to seem intrusive, so I turned back to our window and waited for the prisoners to be brought in. At the same time, I picked up the conversation between Max and Jock behind me.

“Bank robbery!” Max’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

Jock stood arms crossed, nodding. “Back in the fifties, I believe.”

I frowned, piecing together their exchange. “What was back in the fifties?”

Jock tilted his head toward Candace. “Her grandfather Two-Notes was one of the most notorious bank robbers on the East Coast. During a robbery, he’d wear a green eye mask with dollar signs on it. Steal everything he could get his hands on. Supposedly once even yanked out a teller’s gold tooth. His calling card was leaving two one-dollar bills behind as a tip for doing business. Hence the name Two-Notes.”

Max and I gaped openly in Candace’s direction. I recalled hearing something about a gangster named Two-Notes years and years ago, long before I’d met Candace. It was spine-chilling yet fascinating.

Jock rested his hands on the back of my chair, recapturing our attention. “It was decades before he was finally caught and sentenced to life in prison. I presume family life suffered.”

Holy smokes. What a story. What had Candace’s grandfather been like? What impact had he had on Candace, only seeing her through a glass window? I peered back at Max. He swallowed solemnly, probably wondering the same thing.

We heard a heavy door automatically slide open from the far left on the other side of the glass, and one by one the inmates trudged in wearing yellow jumpsuits. Luther Boyle was the first inmate to enter the room. At once, fear swelled inside me, and I couldn’t find my breath.

I told myself to pull it together. Lots of people paid visits here daily, and nothing violent happened to them. Plus, two guards and a woman in a white lab coat stood in the background, keeping their eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior. I didn’t know what they expected could happen during a non-contact visit, but I felt safer all the same knowing prisoners were behind a glass wall.

Luther shuffled over to our cubicle, and I steeled myself inside and out. I wasn’t about to hide behind Max or Jock. I’d decided to come here, and I was going to find answers to my questions.

In the years since Luther had been in prison, he’d gained more weight and lost more hair. He’d already been bald and pudgy, but his baldness had spread, and now even his eyebrows were sparse. Maybe Phyllis could practice her new skills on him.

Luther slumped in the chair opposite Max and me and gave me a venomous look. I couldn’t blame him. If I’d been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have been too happy to see me either.

Max poked me in the ribs, indicating I should say something.

I gave a little finger wave through the glass, more nervous than I thought I’d be.

Jock leaned in. “It helps if you pick up the phone.”

I clenched my hands open and shut. “Right.”

Max and I selected our phones, and Luther grabbed his. I got right to it, asking what he knew about Ziggy’s escape.

He looked at me as if he wondered if I was for real. “Lady, I got scars on my belly and suffer nightmares in my cell because of you. You think I’m going to tell you anything about Zig’s escape?”

I shrugged. “Yes?”

He smushed his face to the glass and kissed it. In other words, forget it.

Behind Luther’s shoulder, the woman in the white lab coat said something to him. He angled back in his chair, phone close to his ear. “Even if I did know something, these walls have ears. Hell, the floors have ears. And I don’t care to make my life here any worse than it is.”

Jock plucked the phone from Max and gave a laser-sharp stare through the glass at Luther. “When was the last time you spoke to Stoaks?”

Luther looked up at Jock like he’d come face to face with his nemesis Superman. For a second, he was speechless. “I don’t remember. Few days ago. Maybe a week.”

“Did he ever mention Valentine’s name, say he was going to get even?”

I peeked up at Jock taking control, and my heart gave a brazen thump. Swallowing in admiration, I stared back at Luther, witnessing the begrudging respect in his eyes as well.

“Sure, he’d joke about it occasionally. Lots of inmates mutter the same thing. ‘Gonna get even with the scum who put me behind bars.’ But I never believed it for a minute. All talk as far as I could see.”

Jock handed the phone back to Max, and Luther shifted in his seat, letting out a breath.

“What’s this all about anyway?” Luther refocused on me. “Why all the questions about Zig?”

I switched the phone to my other ear, then laid it out for Luther. “I got a delivery on my doorstep this morning, and I think Ziggy may have been responsible for it.”

“What kind of delivery?” He edged forward, genuinely interested.

I lowered my voice into the phone. “A perm rod wrapped around a dildo.”

“Ha-ha-ha!” he barked in a fit of laughter, slapping his pudgy hand on his knee. “What goes around comes around.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, straightening in his chair. “Listen, Zig and I might have committed murder and run a puppy mill, but we weren’t all that close. If you want to know the truth, I don’t know what happened to him. So if that’s all, take a hike.” He gave me a last once-over. “And buy a brush, why don’t you. You’re a disgrace to the profession.” Then he hung up.

I scowled at his rudeness and self-consciously ran a finger through my hair for the umpteenth time today. Many more of these insults, and I was going to shave my head bald like Luther.

Max reached for my phone, then propped both receivers back in their cradles. “That went well.”

We were watching Luther disappear through the door he’d entered through when Candace hijacked our attention, pounding the glass in front of her. “Grandpa! Wake up!”

We craned our necks to see Candace’s grandpa on the other side of the window. I blinked twice in surprise.

Two-Notes wasn’t one of those tall legendary bank robbers like Warren Beatty from Bonnie and Clyde, with a charming smile and a glorious head of hair. He was more of a I-need-my-walker-and-false-teeth bank robber who was probably past his naptime.

My mouth hung open in shock. I couldn’t see Two-Notes holding up a comb, let alone a bank.

“That’s Two-Notes?” Max’s jaw hung lower than mine.

“That’s him,” Jock said.

“He’s bald…and stooped over.” Max slanted to get a better look. “And he’s drooling.”

“He’s not a young man anymore,” Jock replied.

While Max was getting over his crushed fantasy of what Candace’s grandfather would look like, Jock nodded at me. “You didn’t think you’d learn any more from Boyle, did you?”

I scraped back my chair and stood. “I didn’t know what I thought, but coming here felt like the right thing to do.” I crossed my arms and gazed up into his caramel-flecked eyes. “Do you think Ziggy planted that dildo on my porch?” No sense pretending Jock hadn’t heard. He always knew more than he let on.

My dead stalker was another option. But I preferred not to share this with Jock or the fact that Dooley had been stalking me. It was better to let Romero handle this since the two men were already too cozy as far as I was concerned.

“I’m not sure. But we’re going to find out.”

“We?”

He raised a sexy eyebrow. “You don’t like the sound of that?”

I liked it more than he knew. But I was starting to feel smothered by all the sudden attention. “Let me guess. Romero told you to keep an eye on me.”

“He’s a wise man.” A grin slid up his face. “And I’m only too happy to oblige.”