I screamed.
The tires screamed, too, as I slammed on the brakes. I screamed a second time as my head bounced off the roof. I twisted my neck around, unfortunately twisting the steering wheel in the same motion.
The VW dodged to the right and scraped a large chunk of sandstone at the edge of the drive. The car shuddered.
So did I. I mean, who places a freaking rock so close to their driveway?
‘Careful!’ hollered Johnny, his hands clutching the back of my seat. ‘Have you lost your mind?’
‘Me? Have you lost yours?’ My eyes bugged out at him.
‘Just keep driving,’ Johnny hissed. ‘I paid a fortune for that rock installation!’ He drove his fist into the back of my seat while remaining hunched over in back.
I eased slowly down the drive. Very slowly. A glance at the boulder the right front bumper had connected with told me that I did not want to see the bumper itself. And when Mom saw it, she was going to kill me. Maybe I could blame it on an alien invasion.
For a brief moment, I considered running away. Unfortunately I’d already done that once. That’s what I was doing in Table Rock, Arizona. I wasn’t sure how much further there was to run. I’d previously considered Alaska, but trading a dry heat for a wet bitter cold was not an option. The only good iceberg was lettuce – with plenty of Thousand Island dressing.
‘Any place in particular you’d like a lift to?’ I asked, sitting outside the guard gate of the Four Seasons and waiting for a break in the traffic on the street. ‘Like a loony bin?’
‘Very funny, Miller.’ He peeked over the seat. ‘Any sign of that detective?’
‘Not unless he’s hiding behind a cactus.’ Personally, I didn’t think the detective could carry it off. Too much muscle.
Johnny sat up in the back and dusted himself off. He straightened his precious hair, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. I eased in line behind a couple of slow-moving pickup trucks. Pickups seemed to outnumber people in Table Rock at a ratio of about three to one, having replaced the horse ages ago. I supposed that was a good thing, at least from the horse’s point of view. ‘Where to, Johnny?’
He pushed out his lower lip. ‘You can drop me off at your place.’
That suited me. I was exhausted. Drop Johnny off, take a long bath. Enjoy a relaxing meal in front of the TV watching one of my favorite home remodeling shows. The perfect end to a perfectly awful day.
I parked at the curb. Johnny extracted himself from the tiny backseat and followed me to the door. I quirked an eyebrow, the house key dangling in my hand. ‘Did you want something?’ Small flying insects buzzed around the porch light. Great, I’d probably end up having my arms chewed up by flesh-eating zombie no-see-ums. I’d seen it happen in a late-night horror film once. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Johnny shoved the sleeves of his sweater down to his wrists. ‘No, thanks. Show me to the guestroom. A good night’s rest is all I need.’
My hand froze, key in lock. ‘The guestroom? This is a one-bedroom apartment and a tiny one at that. It isn’t the Ritz.’
The door popped open. Mom stood in the doorway wearing her bathrobe and slippers. ‘I thought I heard voices,’ she said with a big grin on her face. A damp towel curled around her hair. ‘Well, hello, Johnny.’ She pulled the former pro skater inside. ‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing home company, Maggie. Have a seat, Johnny. What can I get you to drink?’
‘I didn’t know I was bringing home company,’ I muttered under my breath. My mother and Johnny had met on several occasions. For some unfathomable reason, she adored the former Olympian. My cat, Carole Two, curled her tail around my left leg and mrowled. I headed to the kitchen to check the status of her food and water.
‘I suppose I could settle for a dry martini,’ Johnny called from the sofa.
I gritted my teeth and yanked open the refrigerator. Gee, no instant dry martinis. I grabbed a can of Bud Light. ‘Could you settle for a beer?’
When Johnny declined, I popped the top anyway. Waste not, want not. I found a foil-covered pie tin in the fridge and extracted it. ‘What’s this?’ I held it out.
Mom glanced my way. She’d made herself comfortable on the sofa beside Johnny. ‘Shepherd’s pie. Your sister brought it over. I helped myself but there’s plenty left if you want to warm it up. How about you, Johnny?’ my mother asked. ‘Would you care for some?’
Johnny declined. Smart choice. He’d met my sister. I picked through the mashed potato top of the pie. There was no telling what was in this thing, but I could make a pretty good guess what wasn’t in it – anything tasty or normal, like ground beef, instant mashed potato mix and whole-milk cheddar cheese. No, this devil-in-a-pie tin probably contained not-so-beef-flavored wheat gluten granules, quinoa and soy cheese. I tossed it back in the fridge.
I thought I recognized okra and banana peppers in the thing, for crying out loud.
I grabbed a store-bought frozen bagel to go with the beer and took the chair opposite the sofa.
‘So, what brings you here this evening, Johnny?’ Mother is ever so polite.
‘He’s on the lam from the police,’ I said, somehow managing to speak with a mouthful of semi-thawed plain white bagel.
Mom looked from me to Johnny. Her hands gripped her knees. ‘Is that true?’
Johnny scowled. ‘No, your daughter’s exaggerating.’
‘Detective Highsmith showed up at Johnny’s house wanting to talk to him.’ I smiled malevolently at Johnny. ‘Johnny preferred hiding in the backseat of your car to talking.’
Johnny’s ears turned red. He folded his arms over his chest. ‘I wasn’t in the mood. I needed some alone time.’
I rolled my eyes and took a swig of beer. I was about to choke on the dry bagel lodged in my throat. ‘Chicken.’ I didn’t bother to tell him that if convicted of murder he’d be getting his fill of alone time.
He pressed his hands to his temples. ‘I need some time to think.’
‘Of course, Johnny. You take all the time you need. You’ll stay here tonight with me and Maggie.’
‘I don’t know,’ Johnny said. He shot me a crafty look. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’
‘It’ll be no trouble at all, Johnny.’ Mom made a face at me. I stuck my tongue out at her. ‘Maggie and I will share the bed. Maggie will make up the couch for you.’
‘I will?’ No way I was spending the night with Johnny under the same roof. ‘There are plenty of topnotch hotels in the area.’ I could picture the two of them already, out on the patio doing sunrise yoga together. What next? Carole Two dropping into the downward droopy eared dog pose? Mom would probably expect me to join them, too. Yeah, right. I’d join them the day some yogi master invented exercises designed for actually humans, not circus contortionists.
Mom stared me down. I gave in first, pretending I needed a drink.
By the time I’d gotten the sofa made up with the spare sheets, it was quite late. Just my luck, there had been an old Sonja Henie movie playing on TCM called Thin Ice. Ms Henie had been a real-life, three-time Olympic gold medalist. We sat through the entire film, despite my yawning hints that it was past my bedtime – I did have to get up early to open the café.
But Johnny and Mom paid me no attention. Not even Carole Two took an interest in my welfare.
Johnny was quite smitten with Ms Henie’s skating sequences in the film. I was about to turn off the kitchen light when somebody pounded on my front door. Carole Two shot to the bedroom where Mom was already in the middle of her pre-bed yoga routine.
Johnny, still wearing his day clothes minus the slippers, looked at me from the sofa. I shrugged and motioned for him to get in the bathroom.
I stepped to the door. ‘Who is it?’ I pressed my ear to the door. Getting a visitor at nearly midnight on a Tuesday night was a little bit unnerving and I wasn’t about to open the door without knowing who I’d be facing.
‘Maggie? Is that you? It’s me, Brad Smith.’
I groaned. The jig was up. I smoothed down my shirt, taking a moment to compose myself and making sure that Johnny had shut the bathroom door.
I threw open the front door. ‘Brad, what a surprise.’
The reporter took a step back and looked at me. He was dressed as he had been earlier in the afternoon, though he’d thrown a nice charcoal-colored sports jacket over his shirt. ‘I’ll bet.’ He didn’t look happy. ‘So what happened?’ He twisted and peeked through the door. ‘I waited over an hour for you at Hanging Louie’s. I tried to call you but kept getting your voicemail.’
He had phoned me several times. I had ignored each call. I stepped onto the porch, swatted a mosquito and pulled the door shut behind me. ‘Low signal, I guess, or the phone’s on the fritz.’
‘Oh? While I was waiting, I ran into some friends, had dinner and drinks with them then came here. I saw the lights on.’ He tilted his head to look through the window. ‘You have company?’
‘Yes,’ I answered quickly. ‘Sorry about tonight. Family emergency.’
‘Emergency? Is everything all right?’ Concern showed on his face.
‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control now.’ Or so I hoped. ‘I’d invite you in but it looks like my mother will be staying with me for a while.’ I nervously cleared my throat. ‘You know, what with the emergency and all …’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘No, thanks. That’s sweet. I’m sorry,’ I said, lowering my eyes, ‘I should have called.’
A piercing scream filled the air. I spun around.
Brad’s hand flew to the doorknob. ‘What the heck was that? That sounded like a woman’s scream. Your mom’s in trouble!’
I grabbed Brad’s arm and yanked him back across the threshold, slamming the door shut behind me. I was out of breath. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, patting the reporter’s arm. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Brad seemed uncertain. ‘It sounded like she was in real pain. Don’t you think we should go check on her?’
I shook my head. ‘No, really. It – it’s part of Mom’s pre-bed ritual.’ I rolled a finger round my ear. ‘She’s quirky that way. She’s into primal scream therapy.’ I was going to be needing some therapy myself what with my mom, Johnny Wolfe and a cat named Carole Two all occupying my personal space.
Brad’s hand rested on the doorknob. ‘I still think we should check.’
I took his hand. ‘No, really, I—’ I didn’t know what to say. I already sounded like an idiot. So I did an idiotic thing. I kissed him. Right there on the porch. Right there on the lips.
The kiss lingered for several moments longer than I had planned. I wasn’t sure whose fault that was. Finally I took a step back and said, ‘It’s getting late. I’m sorry but I have to be at work at six.’ OK, so really it’s supposed to be five-thirty. One of these days I’d make it on time.
Brad nodded. ‘I understand.’ His voice sounded husky.
We kissed briefly once again then I watched him head to his car. As he pulled away I noticed a man on the sidewalk across the street watching me. He held an Irish setter at the end of a leash. At first I thought it was some pervert stopping to get a look at two people kissing in public. Then I realized I recognized this particular pervert.
I stormed down the walkway to the street and planted my hands on my hips. ‘So now you’re spying on me, Detective?’ I hollered. It might have been midnight but I didn’t care who heard me.
I saw the glint of smiling teeth under the glow of the streetlamp. ‘Merely walking my dog, Ms Miller.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I quipped. I shook my head to show my contempt. ‘You happened to be walking your dog on a Tuesday night at midnight right in front of my apartment.’ I snorted. ‘Like I’m going to believe that.’
Highsmith tugged at the dog’s leash. The dog was busy inspecting a mailbox post. ‘I just got home. I live a block over.’ He pointed with his free hand.
It was a good thing it was dark so he couldn’t see the brilliant red my face had become. ‘Yeah, well, then.’ I toed the ground and bit my lip. ‘Carry on. Goodnight, Detective.’
Highsmith looked at me a moment longer. ‘Goodnight, Ms Miller.’
I watched him and the dog turn the corner. I had a Table Rock cop for a neighbor. Worse, I had Detective Highsmith for a neighbor. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s the best detective on the force. He ought to be. He is the only detective on the force.
He’s also quite a handsome detective. When I’d first laid eyes on him I thought there might be a certain chemistry between us. I didn’t know whether that chemistry would produce beautiful fireworks or deadly explosions, but still, chemistry. Then I’d learned that he was seeing one Veronica Vargas, town prosecuting attorney, daughter of town mayor and Princess of Prissytown.
And now he’d seen me making out on my front porch with Brad Smith.