‘I’ve seen enough.’ Detective Highsmith turned to Officer Singh, who’d snapped off his glove and thrust it in his back pocket. ‘Escort Mr Rothschild downtown, would you, Ravi.’
Highsmith turned to Clive. ‘You don’t mind going down to the station and answering a few more questions, do you, sir?’
‘No, I don’t mind at all.’ Clive’s eyes said otherwise, but what choice did he have? Clive and Officer Singh headed for the passenger elevator at the opposite end of the hall.
‘I’ll see you back at the café!’ I waved as the elevator door swung across Clive’s troubled face. The poor guy. I knew how much he hated being around dead guys. And women. ‘What about me?’
‘What about you?’ The detective folded his arms across his chest. Showing off his biceps, no doubt.
I tried not to look or act impressed. ‘Am I free to go?’ His arms were impressive. I imagined he could likely lift me one-handed.
‘Yep.’ He nodded and pulled at his watch.
‘Great.’
‘In fact, your ride ought to be here by now.’
‘What ride?’ I sniffed. ‘I don’t need a ride. I’ve got my pickup.’ Well, it wasn’t exactly my pickup. It wasn’t even sort of or even remotely my pickup. But I had brought it here so in that sense the truck was mine. And I did feel a certain obligation to Andy to return it.
‘Like I said, you’re free to go.’ Why was he smiling? ‘But not in the pickup.’
‘What? Why not?’
‘We’re impounding it. The tow truck is on its way as we speak.’
‘But you can’t do that!’ I cried. ‘It’s not even mine; it belongs to my brother-in-law, Andy.’ I grabbed Highsmith’s wrist. ‘You’ve met him. Tall, skinny guy. Ponytail. Loves his truck,’ I said with emphasis.
‘Sorry, nothing I can do.’ Highsmith plucked my hand from his wrist like my vice-like grip had meant nothing to him. The show-off. ‘At this point we’re holding it as potential evidence.’ Now he outright chuckled. ‘Not to mention, I hear it was reported stolen.’
I groaned. Why the heck had Andy reported it stolen? ‘Evidence of what? We didn’t do anything. Clive is innocent.’
‘Can he prove it?’
‘Not yet.’
Highsmith shrugged. ‘There you go.’
‘So now what? Are you going to give me a ride home?’ In that bright red testosterone-fueled Firebird?
‘Don’t worry.’ Highsmith smiled, his M&Ms twinkling. ‘Like I said, your ride ought to be here.’ He laid his hand lightly on my shoulder. ‘I’ll call you later this afternoon. Will you be available?’
I said yes.
‘Great. After I’ve interviewed Clive in detail I’ll want to get your story.’ Highsmith told me to see myself out. I guess he was staying to make sure nobody came in or out of the stairwell. Evidence and all that.
I rode the passenger elevator to the ground floor, crossed the lobby and stepped out into the midday sun. I saw a green-and-red tow truck turning out of the Entronque building’s parking lot with Andy’s precious Chevy pickup on its flatbed. No doubt it was on its way to the Table Rock Police Department’s impound lot.
Then I saw Andy.
I flushed and came to a stop. ‘Andy! Boy, am I surprised to see you!’ I flashed a bright smile.
He scowled. That wasn’t the way this body language stuff was supposed to work. ‘That’s funny, Maggie,’ he said, ‘because I’m not at all surprised to see you.’
I tried again. I’d read an article recently while waiting in my dentist’s office. Body Language 101. ‘What do you mean?’ I fluttered my eyelashes and let my hands relax at my side. It’s supposed to set the other person at ease.
‘You stole my truck is what I mean.’ Andy stepped toward me and stuck his chin out. There’d been an edge to his voice that belied his usual laconic nature. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
I stepped back, looking up at my brother-in-law who’s as tall as a redwood, and blubbered, ‘I can explain everything!’ Besides, stole was such an ugly word. I mean, it was a completely appropriate and accurate word in this particular instance, but still … talk about ugly.
Andy swatted his ear and his ponytail danced like a snake. ‘Forget it, Maggie. Let’s get out of here.’
‘How?’ The Table Rock PD had impounded his Chevy pickup. ‘I mean …’ I stopped talking. He knew what I meant.
Andy pointed to Donna’s blue-and-white Mini Cooper. Oh, great, Donna probably knew about the whole stolen vehicle thing now, too.
I took a heavy step toward the Mini, then came to an abrupt stop. To an outsider it might have looked like I’d hit a pocket of heavy gravity. But I knew better. I hadn’t hit any anomalistic gravity pocket. I’d hit the realization that if Andy knew … and if Donna knew … I groaned.
Mom probably knew too.
I groaned some more and squeezed my eyes shut.
Andy chuckled as if reading my mind as he opened the car door and somehow folded his long frame into the short car. ‘Mom and Donna are waiting at the store.’
‘Blabbermouth,’ I said sourly.
Andy started up the Mini and rolled into traffic. ‘Hey, it wasn’t exactly a secret. When I went out to the dumpster my truck was gone. I ran in and told Donna and Donna called the police.’
I frowned. ‘So who told Mom?’
Andy smiled, his hands gripping the wheel in a proper ten and two position. Me, I was lucky if I had ten fingers anywhere on the steering wheel at the same time while I drove. Another reason I was better off with the bicycle rather than the old car I’d sold because I’d needed to raise funds to open the beignet café.
He shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘That was a lucky coincidence. Your mom came in to do some shopping and overheard your sister talking to the police dispatcher. She felt real bad when she heard somebody had stolen my truck.’ He turned his eyes from the road for a moment. ‘When we got the call that the police had found my truck and that that somebody was you—’ He chuckled some more. ‘The look on your mom’s face was precious.’
I’ll bet. I folded my arms across my chest and sunk down in the car seat. Everybody always complains about Mondays but, so far, Tuesday wasn’t exactly turning out to be the prize in a box of Cracker Jack.
We drove in awkward silence for several minutes. ‘You can drop me off at the café,’ I said stonily.
‘OK,’ Andy acceded, ‘but you’re going to have to face your mom sometime.’
‘I know,’ I replied glumly.
Andy shook his head and sighed loudly as he pulled to the curb outside Maggie’s Beignet Café. ‘Poor Mrs Malarkey.’ That’s Mom. ‘The poor woman’s devastated to learn that she’s got a car thief in the family.’ His eyes danced. ‘She blames it on that videogame, Grand Theft Auto. I didn’t know you were a gamer, Mag.’
‘Very funny.’ I slammed the car door harder than necessary and took a step toward my café. I stopped on the sidewalk and turned back to the Mini. I gestured for Andy to roll down the window. I stuck my head in. ‘I’m sorry I took your truck without asking, Andy. It’s just that Clive came running into the shop all desperate and—’
Andy held up his hand like a stop sign. The tattered, spiral-patterned hemp bracelet that I’d never seen him without, even in his lawyer days, flopped around his slender wrist. His lips formed a smile. ‘Next time, just ask.’
I nodded. Andy was OK.
I pushed through the door, listening to the tinkle of the leather string of bells. ‘Hey, Aubrey! Did I miss anything?’ About half the tables were occupied. That was a good sign. I’m a table is half full kind of person.
Aubrey pushed the register shut and adjusted her visor. ‘Nope. Nothing special. There’s been a steady stream of customers. Nothing Kelly and I couldn’t handle.’
I nodded. The empty tables were spic and span and everything appeared in order. ‘Where’s Kelly?’
‘I sent her to pick up some lunch. Did you want anything?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Are you sure? I could call her on her cell.’
I shook my head. I’d had my fill at Ethiopia. And after seeing that woman, Lisa Willoughby, lying under a pile of lemon cake, dessert might be off my menu for a while. I stepped behind the counter and threw my white apron over my neck. I was reaching back to tie the apron strings when the door banged open.
‘Miller!’ screamed Johnny Wolfe. He aimed his finger at me like a scud missile. ‘Clive’s been arrested and it’s all your fault!’