| |
MERLIN HEARD THE NOISE seconds before I did. That’s what I appreciate about cats. They make good early-warning systems. Even if they do take up half the bed.
Crunch-crunch-crunch.
Footsteps on gravel outside the back door. Gravel that I had placed a couple of weeks ago after I discovered the local mobsters, Big and Little, sitting in my kitchen, paying me a late-night visit. I had vowed then that no one was going to make it inside my house without me greeting them with a weapon in hand.
I sprang up from the bed and pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbed my nine-millimeter off the dresser and shoved it in my waistband. After flying down the stairs, I crept to the edge of the archway into the kitchen.
My heart rate ticked up a notch at the tapping on metal I heard from just outside the door.
7:13 passed to 7:14 AM on the microwave clock as I padded into the kitchen and over to the door. Slowly I pulled the curtains open an inch and peered out. A man crouched to the right of the steps. A toolbox sat on the gravel next to him.
What the hell was he doing? There was only one way to find out.
I turned the deadbolt, grateful I give it a WD-40 bath once a week. No squeaky lock was going to give me away. After three calming breaths, I burst through the door and trained my weapon on the intruder.
“Freeze!” I screamed.
The man gave a start in response.
“Put your hands up and turn around slowly.”
He did. His right hand held a wrench.
His face held his shock.
“What the hell?” he said.
“Carter?”
He stood. “Just because you know how to use that thing doesn’t mean you should go waving it in someone’s face.”
“What are you doing sneaking around my house at seven in the morning?”
“I mean it,” he whispered. “You may not know this, but librarians and former beauty queens don’t go charging into these situations.”
I shuddered in anger and whispered back, “Just because you know who I really am doesn’t mean you can tell me how I’m supposed to maintain cover.”
Ever since Carter discovered that I was a CIA assassin hiding in Sinful from an arms dealer who had put a price on my head, things between us had gotten complicated, to say the least.
He folded his arms. “I’m in charge of protecting this town. And the more you act like a trained operative the more likely you’ll attract unwanted attention.”
“You really don’t have to look out for me.” To be honest, I was touched to see our recent breakup hadn’t dampened his concern for me. Still... “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“Don’t I know it. But I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about the unsuspecting citizen who gets in the way.”
My heart sunk a little. I tucked the gun in the waistband of my shorts. “Fine. I’ll cut down on waving my gun around and you’ll alert me the next time you go sneaking around my house early in the morning. Which brings me to my original question. What are you doing?”
He nodded toward the faucet just to the left of the door. “A couple of weeks ago I noticed the faucet was looking a little rusted, so I ordered one and it arrived yesterday. I just thought I’d stop by before work and install it before you woke up. So I wouldn’t disturb you.”
The handle of the new faucet was a frog perched on a lily pad. Not my style, but cute. I wrapped my arms around myself. “You know, just because we’re no longer seeing one another doesn’t mean we can’t actually ‘see’ one another at the same time. We’re both adults.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t afraid to ‘see’ you. That’s not why I stopped over early. Just wanted to get it done before work. I have no problem seeing you. We’re still friends.”
He knelt back down on the ground and finished tightening the valve. The problem with still being friends, of course, was that the temptation was always there to go beyond friendship. And it seemed lately we were always running into one another. If we had had a bitter, all-out screaming fight and hated each other, it might actually be easier. I focused on the crown of his head, where his hair swirled and changed direction. I always wondered what it looked like when he just got out of bed.
Don’t think about his cowlick. Turn and walk back inside. You’re just getting used to not being with him. For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t invite him in for coffee.
“Want to come in for some coffee?”
Damn! What’s wrong with you?
“I mean, want me to bring you a cup of coffee? Outside?”
He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
I nodded. Then maybe you shouldn’t come over with your sexy little cowlick swirling like a hurricane on the top of your head, tempting me to play storm chaser and run my hands through it.
He stood again. “Well, maybe half a cup.”
“I’ll bring it outside.”
“Yeah... that’s probably best.”
I noticed a little trickle of blood on his hand. “Did you cut yourself?”
“Huh?”
I reached for his hand and held it up. “Right there.”
“Must have done that when I was taking the old part off. It was corroded and...”
He stopped. We both felt it. That damned attraction that just wouldn’t go away. But then, another thing... We were being watched. He pulled his hand away and we both turned toward the corner of the house.
“No, that’s okay. Go ahead. Don’t mind me.”
Gertie stood next to the magnolia, a big grin on her face.
“How long have you been standing there?” Carter asked.
“Just got here, why?” She smiled. “What did I miss?”
“Carter stopped by to fix a rusty faucet.”
Gertie snorted. “Uh-huh.” Her face contorted as she flashed us an overly exaggerated wink.
He picked up his tool box. “And I was just leaving. I think I’ll pass on the coffee.”
“Sure.”
He looked at Gertie. “She’s all yours.”
“Aren’t you going to kiss her goodbye?” Gertie asked.
“Gertie!”
Carter blushed and bent down to pick up his toolbox. “If you have any problems with it,” he said, straightening up, “just give a call.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “Well... see you around.”
As soon as he disappeared around the house Gertie walked over to me. “Tell me you’re back together and he spent the night.”
“No and no. Don’t you ever sleep in?”
“I actually planned to this morning, but I got a call from Marie. She needs our help.”
“With what?”
“She wouldn’t say, exactly, just that it involved a man. You up for a little mission?”
“We just had a few ‘little’ missions. Let’s see... the past week we almost got blown up from a bomb in your casket at your fake funeral and had to find the bomber, and... what am I missing? Oh yeah, we were involved in a ‘little scuffle’ in New Orleans where I came this close to getting killed.” I placed my finger and thumb about an inch apart, but then closed it to a whisper of space between them. Yeah, it was that close. And if Ida Belle hadn’t been such a crack sniper, I wouldn’t be here.
She waved me off. “That all happened last week. This is this week. We’re meeting Marie at Francine’s. Today’s special is sweet potato biscuits and Andouille sausage scramble. Your favorite.”
I sighed. “Fine. I’m not going back to bed anyway. But I need to shower. I’ll meet you there in about twenty minutes.”
Ida Belle and Gertie were already seated at a corner four-top when I arrived. I waved to Ally as I stepped inside the café and made my way toward them. Just then a loud honking noise erupted from a short hallway leading past the kitchen and bathrooms into the back exit. Francine’s was less than half filled, average for an early Wednesday morning, most of them seniors or people having breakfast before work. Several of the diners snickered at the sound, but most held in their laughter. The loudest belly laughs came from Gertie who ignored the dirty looks Ida Belle was shooting her way. Another loud honk sent Gertie into a rolling fit of laughter.
Three coffees and three plates of breakfasts sat on the table. I assumed the half-eaten omelet in front of the empty chair belonged to Marie.
And another honk.
I sat in the fourth chair. “Is that Marie?” I asked, flicking my head toward the hallway.
Gertie nodded, laughing too hard to speak.
“Stop that,” Ida Belle said. “You know Marie has that deviated septum.” She looked at me. “When she blows her nose, it sounds like a duck.”
“More like a duck in heat,” Gertie said under her breath, snorting.
Francine came over to our table with a pot of coffee. “She should take that nose of hers outside. Why doesn’t she have surgery or something?”
“She’s afraid they’ll accidentally cut her nose off.”
Francine lifted a skeptical eyebrow.
“That’s what she told me,” Gertie said.
Francine glanced at me. “Coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.” I waited as she filled my cup, then took a sip as another of Marie’s honks cut through the café chatter. Francine rolled her eyes and moved to the next table, filling more mugs.
“Is this why you asked me here? So I could come listen to Marie blow her nose? I actually had a day of relaxation planned.”
Ida Belle glanced over at the hallway. She must have come to Francine’s as soon as Marie called, as her hair was still wound with curlers, hidden under a silk scarf. “Marie called us about a problem she’s having with a man.”
Gertie wiped at her eyes. “We figured since you have more current experience dating men, you should be in on this.”
“Dating? I didn’t know Marie was seeing a man.”
“Neither did we,” Ida Belle said. “I wasn’t able to get much out of her, except that he’s the new guy who just moved to Sinful last week. Cliff Dow.”
“You can’t miss him,” Gertie added. “Late sixties. Sharp dresser. Still has his hair.”
Ida Belle nodded. “Not thick like Walter’s, but it still covers his head. Anyway, then she said something about being a failure, broke out in tears and ran into the hallway.”
“That’s when the honking began,” Gertie said, shuddering as she held in some forbidden laughs. Then a shocked look crossed her face. “Wait a minute. You don’t think she meant she was a failure...” she whispered, “in the bedroom, do you?”
I closed my eyes. “Okay, there’s an image I could have done without.”
“I’ll second that,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie shrugged. “I don’t mean it as a criticism. I’m just being realistic. When you get up into the seventies, sex begins to feel like a game of Twister. And Marie was always terrible at Twister. Her hips just couldn’t—”
Ida Belle reached over and rapped Gertie on the head. “We didn’t want to think about it.”
Marie stepped out of the hallway and into the dining room. Most of the diners looked away or down at their food, to avoid meeting Marie’s eyes. It was apparent she’d been crying.
Ida Belle pointed her finger at Gertie. “Don’t you dare let her know that you were laughing at her.”
Marie made her way to the table and sat down next to me. “No one laughed, did they?”
Gertie reached over and patted Marie’s hand. “Only the really immature ones.”
“It’s that damned deviated septum,” Marie said.
Gertie nodded sympathetically. “Makes you sound like a duck. Yes, we know.” Gertie’s bottom lip began to quiver, so she grabbed her coffee mug and took several swallows to keep her mouth busy.
Marie turned her attention to me. “I didn’t mean for them to trouble you with this.”
“It’s no trouble. Ida Belle said you met a man?”
Marie nodded. “Cliff Dow. He moved here a couple of weeks ago. Just temporarily. But he’ll make it permanent if he likes it.” She picked up her napkin and dabbed at the tears forming in her eyes. “I wasn’t really intending to meet a man,” she said, “but he sat next to me last week when I went to play bingo at the senior center. We got to talking and found we have a lot in common. We read the same books. Watch the same shows. And he seemed so attentive to me... It felt nice. I never really had that kind of attention from a man. As you know, my deceased husband was a real lout.”
A lout was putting it mildly. According to Gertie and Ida Belle, Marie’s former husband had been a mean SOB. That is, before he was murdered. In fact, I found one of his bones when I first came to Sinful. Marie hadn’t murdered him, but, according to Ida Belle and Gertie, no one would have blamed her if she had.
“So you met this guy Cliff and hit it off.”
Marie nodded.
“Then why the tears and honking?” Gertie asked.
“Well, after we had fun at bingo, I went back to the senior center the next day for the macramé class. Cliff was there and sat next to me. Before I knew it, he was asking if he could take me to dinner that night. We went to this nice place in Frog Town. I told him we could go Dutch, but he insisted on picking up the tab.”
“And then he dumped you?” Ida Belle asked. “Built your hopes up before skipping out with a younger gal in her sixties?”
“One who played Twister better than you?” Gertie added, whispering.
“Twister?” Marie asked, cocking her head like a puppy.
I touched Marie’s shoulder. “What happened, Marie?”
“Well, he drove me back to my house and then asked if maybe he could come inside for some coffee.”
“Hmm-hmm.” Gertie shot a knowing glance at Ida Belle.
“And then we sat and chatted and got to know one another a little more. He told me that he was a rich man, that it was so hard to meet women because half the time they were only after his money. He asked me point blank if I was one of those types of women.”
“The nerve of him,” Gertie said.
“I told him that I didn’t need his money, that I had inherited quite a lot from my former husband.”
Ida Belle shot a look at Gertie. “You told him you had money?” She wrapped her fingers firmly around her fork. “What did he do then?”
“He asked me to marry him.”
“I bet he did.” Gertie grabbed a piece of toast on her plate and took an angry bite out of it.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I told him I didn’t want to get married. I told him that maybe we could be friends, see one another at bingo or go to a movie, or out to dinner. Those types of things. But he kept insisting. It was making me uncomfortable, so I told him that it would be better if we said goodnight and saw one another later in the week. He asked if he could use the restroom before he left and then disappeared down the hall. He was taking a long time, so I just assumed he had one those prostrate problems.”
“Prostate,” Ida Belle said. “It’s called a prostate.”
Gertie nodded. “Prostrate is when he’s lying flat, face down. That’s a whole ‘nother issue.”
Marie took a sip of her coffee, then continued. “I called out and asked if he was okay. He said that he was and then a couple of minutes later came back into the living room. He said goodnight and then he left. It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I noticed some things missing.”
“He stole from you?”
She shrugged. “Well, I can’t imagine who else would have done it.”
“What was missing?” Gertie asked.
“My jewelry box. Or at least one of them. I have several. This one held my wedding ring, a few other pieces of jewelry, a little b of gold coins and a silver pendant that Marge gave me when she was still alive.”
I instinctively wrapped my hand around the butter knife. Marge had been Ida Belle and Gertie’s oldest friend before her recent death. She was also part of my cover. To everyone in Sinful except Carter, Gertie and Ida Belle, I was Sandy-Sue Morrow, Marge’s great-niece, here to catalog her possessions. The real Sandy-Sue was actually enjoying a European vacation courtesy of her uncle and my boss, CIA Director Morrow. I had never intended on telling Gertie and Ida Belle my real story, but having served as spies during the Vietnam War, they could detect a kindred soul immediately.
Marie leaned in and continued. “There was also a letter that Marge wrote me during the darkest days of my marriage. I hid it in the lining of the jewelry box. I always read that letter for inspiration when times are tough. It wasn’t... sensitive... like the letters that we burned.”
The sensitive letters Marie was referring to were letters that Marge wrote to Marie but never sent, letters that had revealed her true feelings toward Marie. I had discovered them when I started going through Marge’s things. Marie never knew how Marge felt about her until I shared the letters with her.
“But still, if one could read between the lines,” Marie said, looking around the diner to make sure she wasn’t overheard.
“Someone might put it together how Marge really felt,” Ida Belle whispered.
Marie nodded. Tears streamed down her face. I gave her my napkin and she dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t care about the jewelry or my wedding ring, but the pendant and the letter were all I had left of Marge.” She balled her hand up into a fist. “I was so stupid to let a strange man in my house and tell him that I had money.” Marie looked around the diner then leaned into me and whispered, “Even though I didn’t feel for your great-aunt the way she felt for me, I still loved her as a friend. I’d hate it if her letter became public. She meant it for my eyes only. I should never have trusted him.”
I nodded. I could feel my anger rising over what this man took from her.
“Did you ask him if he took your jewelry box?” Ida Belle asked.
Marie shrugged. “Kind of. I called him as soon as I discovered it missing and asked if maybe he took it by accident.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “We have to teach you some assertiveness training. You don’t ask a man if he accidentally took your jewelry box. You hold an ice pick to his groin and say, ‘give me my jewelry box.’”
Marie hung her head. “I know. He denied it, of course. He pointed out the obvious. I didn’t really see him take it. And it was big. How could he have snuck it out? I just know it was there before his visit last night and not there this morning.”
I sighed. “He could have opened a window and dropped it outside and come back later to pick it up when you were asleep.”
Marie’s eyes got large. “That creep! And he acted so hurt that I would accuse him of being a thief.” She picked up the coffee mug and her hand shook, causing some of the coffee to slosh over the sides. Gertie gently took the mug from Marie’s hands and placed it down on the table.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest, honey,” Gertie said. “We’ll find out if he took your stuff. And if he did, he’s going to be very sorry.”
After Marie left, I clutched my fork so tight I thought I was going to break it in two. “What kind of man would steal from Marie?”
Gertie dipped her toast in the yolk from her eggs. “The first time I saw him at the general store I noticed how he chatted up all the old ladies. He started to engage me a few days ago, until he saw my old Caddy and clammed up. A gold digger is what he is.”
“We need to get that pendant back for her.”
“I’m more worried about Marge’s letter,” Ida Belle said. “If he finds it and reads between the lines, he’ll know that Marie would pay dearly for that letter back.”
Gertie looked at me. “So you’ll help us right a wrong?”
For some reason, this one was hitting me in the gut. It felt personal. “Hell yes.”
“It may involve breaking the law,” Ida Belle said.
“When does hanging out with you two not involve breaking the law?”
The first order of business was to find out all we could about Cliff Dow, if that even was his real name, which in all likelihood it wasn’t. We finished breakfast and left Francine’s just as Carter’s truck pulled up out front.
“Here’s trouble,” Gertie said. She pointed at me. “You clam up. Don’t let those puppy dog eyes of his pull out any information.”
“Just because he’s in the same location as we are doesn’t mean he’s trouble. And for your information, those aren’t puppy dog eyes, those are bedroom eyes.”
I was so focused on Carter coming out of his truck that I hadn’t paid attention to the passenger side. Until the door opened, and a woman got out. A woman I’d never seen before in Sinful yet felt I had seen somewhere before.
Midfifties, blonde hair an inch or two above her shoulders. Pretty, with minimal makeup, wearing jeans, a polo shirt with a small emblem on the right side, and tennis shoes. Threat level: Should be low. Yet why were the alarm bells going off inside me?
And why did her eyes widen when she spotted me? She was just as taken aback as I was.
“Ladies,” Carter said as he and the woman approached. “I’d like to introduce Linda Warner. She’s from FEMA and she’s traveling through some of the smaller towns to help assess disaster preparedness. She’ll be meeting with residents over the next few days. I know you’ll make her feel welcome.” That was code for don’t do anything to embarrass me while she’s here. He then introduced us each by name. Was it my imagination or did her gaze linger on me longer than necessary? And did her forehead crease when Carter introduced me as Sandy-Sue Morrow?
“We’re probably the most prepared little town you’ll find,” Ida Belle said. “Our group, the Sinful Ladies Society, maintains stockpiles of food, clothing, clean water and medical supplies.”
Linda nodded. “I’m familiar with your group. The proprietor of the Sinful Motel told me you run things in Sinful.”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “He said what?”
“What everyone knows, and yes, we do,” Gertie said.
“They like to exaggerate.”
Gertie folded her arms. “We’ve been running things since before you were born.”
Ida Belle ran interference. “We’ll be happy to have the SLS meet with you during your visit.”
Linda turned to me. “Are you part of this group?”
“Not old enough,” I said. “Besides, I’m a temporary resident. Just here for the summer to settle my great-aunt’s estate.”
“Oh.” she nodded. “For a moment there I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. You don’t look familiar.” But she did. I just wish I knew why.
We said our goodbyes, and Carter and Linda entered Francine’s.
“Do you know her?” Gertie asked.
“I’m not sure. She seems familiar, but I can’t place her.”
“She sure gave you the once-over,” Ida Belle said. “You buy her story about being from FEMA?”
“Not for one minute.”