Chapter Nineteen
Saturday, Feb 2nd (just after midnight)
Every surface in The Mule Train Diner sparkled under the bright kitchen lights. The stainless steel countertops, the grill, the double oven, and the sink all positively gleamed. The floor was clean enough to eat off after Penny scrubbed tile by tile with a brush and ammonia water. The marble-topped baking table looked brand-new. Every single one of her temperature logs had been updated to the new format, fully filled out per the specifications, and clearly displayed.
Penny searched the room for something to clean or organize. Short of slapping a fresh coat of paint on the walls and ceiling, she was done. Hell, even the lights themselves had been de-greased and polished until they gleamed.
Yawning, she tugged off her elbow-length rubber gloves. What Penny wouldn’t do to figure out a way to have Elizabeth receive as thorough of a colon inspection as the health inspector had given the diner today. The no-good worm-tongued, scumweasel of a dumpster twat’s day of reckoning was coming.
Penny had spent the last six hours taking care of the boxes checked on the health inspector’s worksheet, figuring the Draconian woman and her dour personality would probably return tomorrow or the next day for a follow-up inspection. While the violations were on the non-critical list, aka the “blue items” on the inspection sheet, Penny fully expected a return visit thanks to Elizabeth’s apparent pull with somebody high up in the health department.
Grady needed to do something about his lying sack of shit ex before Penny did it for him and took Kate’s place behind bars.
She sniffed her shirt and cringed—grease, dirt, and sweat. Her pants weren’t much better, especially at the knees and butt. Even her hair felt stringy and grimy. Gross. There was no way she was sitting on the cloth seats of her SUV covered with this muck, not after having the interior detailed last week.
A glance at the clock set her in motion. Mississippi would be at The Shaft another hour yet, so she had enough time to clean up and skip out of here before he returned. She didn’t want to take a chance of running into him and giving him the idea that she’d stuck around to see him.
Tugging off her shirt, she slipped out of her bra and stepped out of her jeans and undies, wadding everything up in a ball and stuffing them in a garbage bag. At the sink, she turned the water on warm and grabbed a clean rag from the stack, lathering it with the citrus-scented soap made with aloe and vitamin E that she used to keep her hands from drying and cracking.
She hurried through her equivalent of a sponge bath, including a quick hair wash. Then she grabbed the spare sweatpants and T-shirt she kept in her office for times like these. She dressed in a flash, pausing long enough to apply some lotion to her knees and elbows and hands, which all had taken a beating during her hours-long cleaning marathon.
The couch in her office tempted her. She needed to be back at work in only a few shakes, but there was that dang Mississippi factor to consider.
“This randy octopus has her pride,” she told the couch.
After sliding on her quilted vest, she grabbed her purse, keys, and bag of dirty clothes and then closed her office door behind her. She paused for one last admiring look at her clean kitchen, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of lemon and ammonia.
“Fuck you, Elizabeth.”
Without further ado, she shut off the radio and exited stage left. When she opened the back door, someone was standing in the dark, waiting for her, blocking her path.
She gasped and swung her purse, walloping the prowler upside the head.
Whump!
* * *
Same time, different place …
Claire leaned against the backside of Sophy’s house in the deep shadows. Waiting. Listening. Shivering.
Nearby, a loose piece of the shed’s corrugated tin roofing rattled and creaked with each puff of cold breeze swirling past. A pack of coyotes yipped and barked farther up the canyon, sounding like a rowdy bunch of hellions leaving a bar after closing time and heading out to look for trouble. Somewhere closer, javelina were milling about. She could smell their pungent musk whenever the wind paused to take a breath.
She tucked her hands in her armpits, doing her best to hold in the trembling that was trying to travel south to her knees. God, this place still gave her the creeps, even after all these months. Apparently, nearly being blasted in half by a shotgun at close range had long-term effects on her psyche. Go figure.
“If we have the house key,” Mac said, joining her after finishing his perimeter check, “and we were given Sophy’s permission to be here, then why are we tiptoeing around this place like a pair of cat burglars and sneaking in the back door?”
“Because I don’t like the way things feel out here in the dark.” She stared toward the shed, trying to see into the darkness beyond. “And going in the front feels too exposed.”
He pulled her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “I don’t like the way things feel here in the daylight, either, but someone was determined to drag me to Sophy’s place tonight in spite of my request to table that idea until less paranoid thinking prevailed.”
“Kate wouldn’t stop badgering me all night.”
“She’s certainly relentless when she sets her sights on a notion.”
“And rabid. She sinks her teeth in and won’t let go.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know.” He squeezed her in a warm hug. “The teeth part, not foaming at the mouth.”
“Hey!” Claire poked him in the ribs. “You’re supposed to be comforting me, not taking potshots when my defenses are down.”
“Your defenses are never fully down, Slugger.” He leaned back, staring at her. “Your fortitude and grit are admirable traits. But they do lead to heartburn when I’m a phone call away from you rather than only in another room.”
She patted his chest. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
“I’m not so sure I am.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Come on, let’s go inside, find whatever it is Sophy wants, and then get the hell out of here. Preferably in one piece without any bullet holes.”
She followed him, holding the screen open and handing off the set of keys that Kate had given her.
Without the man in the moon showing his face tonight, Sophy’s place had been dark when they’d pulled up, hair-raisingly so. Mac had left the Jeep’s headlights on, which helped brighten up the place some, but it also created spooky shadows at the fringes of Claire’s vision that seemed to shift and sway.
As Mac unlocked the deadbolt, she huddled close to his side, glancing behind them. At any moment, she half-expected to see a dark, sinister form walking toward them.
Gadzooks! She was losing it.
Trying to distract her overactive imagination, she looked up at the swath of stars overhead. The Milky Way was really putting on a show tonight. So many stars. Where was the Big Dipper? There were too many stars to see it easily.
“Got it,” Mac whispered.
Thank Jupiter!
“Let’s go.” He opened the door.
She followed tight on his heels, closing the door behind her and locking it. They didn’t need anyone else joining them unannounced and scaring the piss out of her.
Mac hesitated for a moment in Sophy’s laundry room, clicking his fancy flashlight a few times, apparently trying to decide if he wanted a bright narrow beam or a wide less-intense spread.
Claire shined her plain old flashlight around the room, spotlighting a jug of bleach, several bottles of degreaser and stain remover, and an empty laundry basket that sat on the counter next to the washer and dryer. It was almost as if Sophy were here yet, coming and going in between running Wheeler’s Diner during the day and sneaking into Joe’s mines at night, looking for more of his hidden treasures.
The place still smelled of stale cigarette smoke and dust, with a hint of something a little sweeter, similar to the last time Claire was in here. She sniffed. Was that Sophy’s favorite perfume, Tabu? She knew that fragrance all too well thanks to Sophy and Henry, Gramps’s ornery dog. Claire sniffed again. No, this was more subtle than the mix of jasmine, amber, and other floral notes. Less feminine, too.
“What are you doing?” Mac asked, shining his light in her direction.
“Sniffing the air.”
“Why? Did you turn part hound dog while I was away this week?”
“For your information, Mr. Smartass, things smell different in here than I expected.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know, just different than before.”
He sniffed. “It stinks like stale cigarette smoke, dry rot, and old linoleum.” He thumbed toward the kitchen. “You ready to go find your bargaining chip, or did you want to stand here all night in an old house full of mold and decaying who-knows-what and play the ‘Guess that smell’ game some more?”
* * *
Same time, previous place …
“Ouch!” Mississippi said, holding the side of his face. “Jesus, Penelope. You could at least warn a guy before you clock him with a twenty-pound bag of flour.”
With her heart still pounding out a panicky beat, Penny stepped back, leaving him room to join her inside. “It’s not twenty pounds, you big baby.” When he squinted at her in disbelief, she shrugged. “It’s a wallet full of change and a paperback book.”
He continued to glare at her.
“What? I like to read when I have a spare moment or two. How was I to know you were going to play boogeyman at my back door in the middle of the night?”
“I wasn’t playing boogeyman.” He closed the door behind him. “I was simply acting the part of a paying renter.”
“Yeah, well I was just leaving.” She pointed at the door, and then felt like a cold shrew for her attempted hit-and-run. “Listen, I’m sorry I whacked you. I wasn’t expecting you back this early. It’s not even closing time at The Shaft yet.”
“The place died down early, which was surprising since it’s Friday night. Anyway, Ronnie took off. She’s staying at the RV park tonight so she can work there in the morning on some bookkeeping, which left me free to harass some other innocent woman.” He moved his jaw around, tapping his cheek where her purse had left a red mark. “Those were Ronnie’s words, not mine.”
“So, you chose to harass me?” Should she feel flattered about that? Actually, she was a little, dang it.
“I chose nobody,” he said. “I had two thoughts in mind as I drove back here. One was all about food and the other centered on that cushy bed upstairs.”
Of course it had nothing to do with her. For crying out loud! It would be amazingly wonderful if she could manage to converse with this man and not make an ass of herself. Just once! Was that too much to ask?
“Okay,” she said, anxious to leave before she crammed her other foot in her mouth, too. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
When she tried to move around him, he caught her by the arm. “Wait. Now that we’re both here, what about staying a little longer and sharing my late-night snack.” He held up a bag that smelled like old grease. “I’m buying.”
“I can’t. I’ve been here since this afternoon, and I have to be back in about five hours to start baking pies. Saturdays are crazy busy. I need some sleep.”
He reached out and captured a tendril of her hair between his fingers, leaning closer. “You smell nice, clean. Did you shower upstairs?”
“No! Of course not!”
He grinned, letting go of her hair, but still holding on to her arm. “Whoa there, spitfire. I wasn’t accusing you of a crime. No need to contact your attorney.”
“I know, it’s just that …” She closed her eyes, wishing she’d have gone home as soon as she’d finished cleaning and avoided this whole cheek-burning scene. “I would never impose on your space like that, or enter your place without invitation, unless I was concerned for your safety.” She pointed toward the sink. “I did a quick wash-up.”
“Stay and eat with me. Please. I get tired of eating alone.” He let go of her and started taking off his coat. “You have a couch in your office. You could crash there for a few hours when we’re done, then you don’t have to drive home.”
“I like a bed better.” As soon as the words left her stupid pie-hole, she cringed.
“Me too.” His gaze traveled south of her chin.
Thank God she’d zipped her vest up, covering her T-shirt. Her lack of bra would be obvious otherwise.
“I should go.” Before she made an even bigger mess of things here in her clean, sex-free kitchen.
“Come on, Penelope. Stay a little longer.” He hung his coat on one of the wall hooks next to the door. “Keep a lonely guy company.”
All sorts of reasons why she should go home played through her head, but his forlorn tone made her hesitate. She understood loneliness too well. She ate, drank, and slept loneliness on many days.
“It’s the least you could do after trying to knock me out.” He pushed up the sleeves of his waffle-knit shirt as he returned to where she stood. “I might have a concussion. You should stay and make sure I don’t pass out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re reaching.”
He held up the greasy bag again. “I got a spare burger.”
“No.” She took the bag from him and walked back into the kitchen, tossing his bribe where it belonged—in the trash.
“Hey!” He came up behind her, reaching for the bag of greasy grossness.
She batted his hands away, shoving him toward one of the stools at her baking table. “Sit down and let me make you a proper sandwich.”
“Those burgers were made of meat and buns,” he grumbled, taking a seat. “How is that not proper?”
She ignored his grousing and opened the door to one of her industrial-size refrigerators. “Do you like roast beef and red peppers?”
“Sure, but I don’t want you to mess up your kitchen.” He glanced around the room. “Is it just me, or is this place really shiny tonight?”
“Thanks for noticing. I spent the last six hours cleaning it from top to bottom.”
“Is that normal? Like a once a week or month task?”
“No. I try to keep a clean kitchen, but this extra-polishing was an inspired job.”
Inspired by a cold-hearted, crafty bitch. Penny had fantasized about the many ways she could murder Elizabeth in her sleep before deciding that a quick death was too kind for Grady’s ex. A bit of torture and some maiming would be more satisfying, and then sending Elizabeth running out of town with her tail between her legs would make a nice finale.
She pulled out one of the roasts she’d prepared earlier for Saturday’s lunch crowd. “This beef is some of the best I’ve found,” she told Mississippi, looking for something neutral to fill the silence. Maybe if she talked food, she’d keep from saying something else that sounded half-baked. “It’s from a butcher outside of Tucson who keeps his own herd. He feeds them a mix of fresh grass and corn.”
It wasn’t from the local grocery deli in town where Elizabeth had told some tall tales and screwed Penny over, but that deli did have some of the best cheese and cold cuts when she needed to resupply on short notice. If she didn’t fix that situation, she would run into trouble during desperate times.
Next she grabbed the grilled peppers that she’d marinated in herbs, lemon juice, olive oil, and honey, along with some butter lettuce and her homemade mayonnaise with curry that she knew would bring out the flavors in the meat and peppers instead of smothering them.
“I didn’t mean to make you have to work on my account.”
She glanced at Mississippi. He was resting his forearms on the table as he watched her work. Under the bright lights, he looked worn around the edges, bordering on haggard. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him less handsome. It just made her want to lead him into her office, lay him down on the couch with his head in her lap, and trace the lines on his face until he relaxed and fell asleep.
“This is easy stuff,” she told him. And she needed to do it. She wanted to make him something good. Something that would impress him. Maybe even make him forget for a minute what a nincompoop she was in his presence more often than not.
“One sandwich or two?” she asked.
“Two—one for me and one for you.”
She was about to tell him she didn’t want anything, but after all that cleaning, she was hungry, too.
“How was The Shaft tonight?” She grabbed one of the hefty loaves of sourdough bread she’d made yesterday morning, cutting it in half and slicing some pieces from the center where the dough was soft but the crust was nice and crunchy.
“Busy initially, but boring mostly.” He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Anyone there worth an extra look?”
Like a certain long-haired blonde with a pool cue and mad crush on him? Or a new woman who didn’t kiss like she was being electrocuted at the same time. Or someone even more worrisome who might want to hurt Ronnie?
“I saw Mac Garner come in a little after ten.” He rubbed his eyes. “He’d told me he wouldn’t be back until Saturday, so I was surprised to see him.” He stretched his neck from side to side. “He took off with Claire the same time I left.”
“Did Grady show up?” Like he was supposed to?
“Yep. He took your niece home. Ronnie was acting off tonight, though. Not just with your brother. I mean in general. Actually, she’s been that way for a few days now.”
“Off how?” She layered the meat, peppers, and lettuce on the mayonnaise-slathered pieces of bread.
“More skittish than usual.”
She sliced the sandwiches in half, making the pieces easier to bite into when in the company of a guy who made her stomach gallop in spite of her attempts to corral her attraction to him.
Glancing his way, she asked, “You think there is something behind her change in behavior?”
Could this odd behavior be spurred by one of Elizabeth’s attempts to dislodge Ronnie from Grady’s side? Penny had been so busy lately defending herself from the conniving troublemaker that she hadn’t thought about what might be going on in Ronnie’s world.
“Hard to tell. Ronnie seems to go through waves of high anxiety depending on the updates we receive about her ex-husband’s bullshit.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I blame her. Being a moving target 24/7 has to be nerve-wracking.”
“And exhausting.” She filled two glasses of water and delivered them to the table.
Just a week of taking potshots from Elizabeth had Penny wanting to bite off customers’ heads and yell at the pushy old ladies feeling up the tomatoes in the grocery store.
She plated the sandwiches, adding some curled slices of navel oranges from a shipment of fresh citrus and produce that a friend had picked up for her southeast of Phoenix. As she set the plates down on the table in front of him, he hopped up and grabbed the spare stool she kept next to the sink, setting it down beside his.
“Thanks,” she said, sighing as she dropped onto the stool. Her feet were tired buckaroos, wanting to be propped up for a few hours along with the rest of her body.
“This looks so good,” he said, sitting and scooping up the sandwich. He smiled at her, adding more lines fanning out from his eyes. “I hope it’s better than those two amazing burgers I had in the bag you tossed.”
She laughed and lifted her own sandwich. “I’ll let you be the judge.”
The sandwiches went down easily, with only a few words shared in between bites, along with several words and groans of appreciation from Mississippi. When they finished, he insisted on washing their plates in the sink while she sat and watched.
He pushed the sleeves of his shirt higher, up over his elbows, bending over slightly as he scrubbed and rinsed. Penny stared her fill, admiring his long legs, broad shoulders, and everything in between when she should have been grabbing her things and zipping out the door. But she wanted to enjoy this quiet moment with him for a little longer. Usually, they were battling on some level in each other’s company. Tonight, they’d called a ceasefire.
When he grabbed the clean towel she had hanging next to the sink, she told him, “You can just let the dishes air-dry in the rack.”
He dried his hands before hanging the towel back the way she’d had it.
“Do you want some dessert?” There were a few pieces of pie left over from lunch yet in the fridge.
“Yes,” he said, returning to where she sat.
“Let’s see.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what she had. “I have some leftover white chocolate cheesecake and some pumpkin cream caramel pie. A couple pieces of pecan pie that’s based on my mom’s favorite recipe. Oh, and there’s some lemon meringue left, along with a single piece of s’more pie.” She opened her eyes. “What sounds …” She trailed off at the intensity in his gaze. He was hungry, all right, but clearly not for pie. “Good?” she finished in a whisper.
“You know what I want,” he said, staring at her mouth.
“No,” she lied.
Mississippi reached down and cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb along her lower lip. “And you want it, too.”
“No, I don’t,” she lied again, her voice sounding hoarse.
He smirked. “Penelope Harrison, you are a lousy liar.”