Laura and the Lawman

by Shelley Cooper

  It took several twists of her key to get the lock to yield to her efforts. She was reaching for the door handle when she heard Michael say, “I don’t think the surprise waiting behind this door will be nearly as pleasant as what we found at the Bickham estate.”

  While the outside of the mansion had been a preservationist’s nightmare, the inside had been surprisingly immaculate. The rooms had all been full of uncounted treasures. Laura had been more than a little relieved to discover that Joseph would, indeed, be pleased with his acquisition.

  They had asked Howard Bracken about the apparent contradiction between the outside of the building and its interior. According to the lawyer, Serena Bickham had not only worked with the architect to design the home, she had furnished and decorated every room personally. After her death, Vincent had been adamant that it continue to be kept as she intended. As for the lawn and garden, they were his, and nobody but himself was going to work them. He would get back to them someday, he had always insisted. But someday had never come.

  Laura understood only too well. For a year after Jacob and Jason died, it had been such an effort simply to breathe, let alone move. It was only over the past two years—and very gradually at that—that she had started reclaiming the joy in treasured activities like reading and sketching.

  Yes, loneliness and grief could do strange things to people. It had turned Vincent Bickham into a virtual recluse. And it was making Laura search for character in a man who had none.

  “What?” she said, keeping her voice light. “No jokes about boogeymen hiding in closets or under the bed?”

  The distaste on his face was plain for her to see. “Not even a comedian could joke about this place.”

  “Give it up, Michael,” she said, pushing the door inward and reaching for the light switch. “We’re staying here. Accept it.”

  She was beginning to think she’d imagined that moment on the street in town. At least with Michael back to his old, irritating self, she no longer felt that traitorous weakness.

  The interior of the motel room was as she had expected. Two double beds covered by matching polyester bedspreads that were patterned in a forest print. A worn green carpet underneath her feet. A long, scarred dresser lining one wall, with the television bolted to it. A round table and two chairs in the corner.

  What she hadn’t expected—but now realized that she should have—was the connecting door to the adjoining room. Michael’s room.

  Joseph was certainly doing his best to throw the two of them together. And to give them the chance to get much closer, if they so desired. Discreetly, of course.

  At least the room was clean. Next to some of the tenements her police work had taken her to in New York City, it might even be called a palace. She certainly wouldn’t have to worry about cockroaches and other assorted creatures scurrying across the floor while she slept.

  No, the only creature she needed to worry about was the two-legged variety holding her luggage and looking decidedly weary. Though she fought it, the sight of his tired eyes tugged at her heartstrings.

  “Where do you want me to put these?” he asked.

  She nodded to one of the beds and placed her purse on the table. “There, please. I’ll unpack later.”

  “Don’t waste your time,” he said under his breath. “There’s probably not enough drawer space.”

  Laura was too tired to have Ruby’s temper rise to the comment.

  With a grunt of effort, Michael heaved her suitcases onto the bed. Then, placing his hands in the small of his back, he stretched, arching his back and neck. Laura angled her head down at the floor and pretended she wasn’t watching.

  The growl of her stomach was loud in the quiet room. She didn’t want to ask, but she knew politeness required it. Michael had toted her luggage all the way in here.

  “Would you like to join me in the lounge for dinner?”

  To her relief, he shook his head. “I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll go for a quick jog to unwind, and then I’m going to bed. What time do you want to get started in the morning?”

  “Eight o’clock okay with you?”

  “Fine. Do you want to meet for breakfast at seven?”

  “Seven it is.”

  He headed for the door, then turned back. Yet again he asked, “It really doesn’t bother you to stay here?”

  Laura was tired and cranky. All she wanted was a bite to eat so she could get out of this silly, impractical outfit and into her nightgown and that bed, even if the mattress did sag in the middle and the pillows were as plump as an unleavened loaf of bread. Why did he insist on going round and round over a conversation she’d thought was over long ago? Enough was enough already.

  “Look, Michael, we’re here to do a job. We’ll only be using these rooms to shower and sleep. For that small amount of time, I’ll be just fine. After all, it’s not like I’m planning to conduct a wild affair here.”

  He looked around the room. “Trust me. A man would need a good dose of Viagra to want to conduct a wild affair here.”

  She didn’t want to respond—with all her heart she yearned to remain mute—but Ruby, no matter how exhausted, never would have let that remark go unchallenged.

  “You mean, if I did a striptease right here and right now, you would be totally unaffected?”

  Michael’s face went blank, and a heavy silence settled over the room. Endless seconds passed as the two of them stood there, neither quite meeting the other’s gaze. Then he drew a ragged breath and thrust a not-quite-steady hand through his hair.

  “I’m too tired for any more verbal sparring right now, Ruby. Would you mind if we continued this conversation in the morning?”

  The relief she felt that he hadn’t taken her up on her challenge wasn’t as great as she had expected it to be. Even more surprising was the loneliness that filled her when he walked to the door.

  “Good night,” he said without turning. “Don’t forget to use the chain.” He closed the door softly behind him.

  Laura stared after him, bemused, as the realization hit her. She’d scared him off. She’d actually scared him off. Apparently Michael Corsi had reached his limit. Interesting.

  Unfortunately, now was not the time for further analysis. No matter how badly she wanted to eat, no matter how desperately she wanted to change into something more comfortable, both activities would have to wait. She had work to do.

  Five minutes later she heard Michael’s front door open and close. Cautiously she parted the curtain and peeked outside. Clad in shorts and a T-shirt, a pair of running shoes on his feet, he stretched in the darkened parking lot.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered, and let out a long breath when he finally took off. When his retreating figure disappeared from sight, she let the curtain fall into place and got busy working on the lock to the connecting door.

  Chapter 6

  S he found the gun tucked beneath his Hanes briefs.

  The briefs were in the suitcase lying open on one of the double beds in a room that, except for the furniture being on opposite walls, was identical to hers. Further inspection revealed the ammunition that had been tucked into the toe of one sock.

  Frowning, Laura picked up the .45 and examined it closely. It was big but flat, thus easily concealed under almost any clothing.

  A shiver raced up her spine. The reaction had nothing to do with her being squeamish about guns. Quite the contrary. She was comfortable with their heft and with the feel of their cool metal. She was even comfortable with firing, when necessary, and was a crack shot. Her knowledge of firearms, and her respect for their power, was the source of her unease. The gun she held was one you didn’t fool around with. While, in the wrong hands, any weapon could be lethal, this one was lethal to the extreme. It asked no questions and took no prisoners.

  Two things immediately came to her mind. The first was that, as a convicted felon, it was illegal for Michael to possess any type of firearm. Which meant he didn’t have a license to carry it.
The second was that he had transported it over state lines, also illegal without a license. Of course, neither offense was likely to bother him. He’d made it more than clear that he was willing to skirt the law whenever it served his purpose.

  So what was his purpose for packing a gun? Was it a macho thing with him, or was he anticipating trouble? They were out in the middle of nowhere. What trouble could he possibly expect to find here?

  A sudden thought unsettled her. Michael had gone for a jog. Alone. Was he meeting someone? If so, was that someone involved with Joseph and his drug dealings? How could she have been so foolish as to let him out of her sight? Tired or not, hungry or not, she should have followed him. But then, when would she have had a chance to search his room?

  Laura gave an impatient shake of her head. It didn’t make sense. Michael hadn’t taken his gun with him. Surely, if he was meeting someone about an illegal activity, he wouldn’t have gone to that meeting unprotected. It was possible he had another gun with him. But where he could have concealed it beneath those short shorts of his was beyond her.

  Placing the .45 in the exact position she had found it, she crossed to the chair and picked up the jeans Michael had draped there. Whatever he was up to, and the gun in his suitcase proved it had to be no good, it was her job to discover it. She would have to keep a much closer eye on him from now on. And stick as close to him as his shadow.

  As she thrust her hand into a pocket, a different kind of shiver from the one she’d felt when she’d picked up the gun traveled up her spine. She told herself it was because she was handling an item of clothing that, just minutes before, had rested intimately against his body. It certainly wasn’t because Michael still had the power to affect her on a sexual level. The veil had been ripped from her eyes. She was no longer capable of nurturing any more illusions about him. And that was a good thing.

  His wallet was still in his back pocket. No surprises there. Michael carried several hundred dollars in cash, a valid Pennsylvania driver’s license and a platinum master card. She wondered if the credit card had been obtained legally.

  The only other item of interest in the room was the book on the bedside table. Laura reached down to pick it up and got the shock of her life when she saw the title. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Inexplicably, they were both reading the same book, although Michael appeared to be about fifty pages ahead of her.

  She shouldn’t be surprised that he was a reader. After all, he was a crossword puzzle devotee. A person didn’t get to be proficient at crossword puzzles without doing extensive reading. Still, she never would have pegged him as the type to read classics. And she was honest enough to admit her dismay that they actually did have something in common.

  It just proved how full of surprises people could always be. Goodness knew, since she had met him—was it only three days ago?—Michael had been full of endless surprises, most of them dangerous to her peace of mind.

  A glance at her watch produced a sense of urgency that had her quickening her movements. After replacing the book on the bedside table, Laura checked the rest of the room to make sure that everything was as she had found it. Then, after closing and locking the dividing door behind her, she headed for the truck. If Michael discovered her there, she could always claim she had lost an earring and was searching for it.

  Five minutes later, having discovered nothing else except that Michael had a penchant for Baby Ruth candy bars and bluegrass music, she made her aching feet drag her across the road to the convenience store. Stomach growling louder than a mother grizzly defending her cub, she used the pay phone located beneath a streetlamp to call her contact officer.

  Because they weren’t secure, no calls were ever made on cell phones. Hotel room phones were likewise off-limits, as their use left an easily followable trail. Only pay phones offered the near-perfect security an undercover officer required while on the job.

  After reporting her findings and the events of the day, Laura limped across the street to the lounge. It was dinnertime—finally—and woe be to anyone who got in her way.

  Antonio ran hard through the streets of the town that had so captivated Ruby. He raced past the Victorian storefronts, past the gurgling fountain and the statues of the founding fathers, past the park, past two-story homes with lights blazing in the windows. Finally he was out in the quiet countryside on the road he’d traveled earlier to the Bickham estate. There were no more lights and no traffic, and the only sound, other than insects, was the pounding of his feet against the pavement.

  He ran until sweat poured down his face and molded his T-shirt to his back. He ran until his sides ached, his knees screamed in protest, and he thought his lungs were about to burst. He ran as if the devil himself was on his heels.

  With every step, he told himself that if he ran hard enough and fast enough and far enough, he would forget how Ruby had looked in that skintight outfit of hers. He would forget the way her hips had swayed when she’d climbed up into his truck. He would forget the sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she’d stared up at him in the middle of town while telling him how much she loved old things. He would forget what a fool he had made of himself.

  And he would forget her offer, even if it had been made to get a rise out of him—pun intended—to do a striptease for him.

  Abruptly he stopped running. Bending over, he balanced his palms against his thighs and gulped in deep breaths of air. Then, squaring his shoulders resolutely, he turned and, heart still racing, began a slow jog back to the motel. Because the simple truth was that there weren’t enough miles between here and the edge of the world to drive that image out of his mind.

  Besides, punishing his body for its weakness to Ruby wasn’t going to get the job done. And in the meantime, she was several miles away. Alone. Getting into who knew what kind of trouble.

  Thirty minutes later Antonio stood at the pay phone outside the convenience store. After checking in with his contact officer, he dialed his older brother’s phone number.

  “It’s about time you called,” Carlo said. “We were starting to worry.”

  We were Antonio’s five brothers and his sister. His was an extremely close family. Weekly dinners and daily phone conversations were the norm with them. Though they had grown accustomed to his frequent absences, and the silences that his undercover work necessitated, they had never liked it.

  “Sorry, Carlo, but I was just sent in on a new job. I couldn’t call any sooner.”

  “Where are you?”

  Antonio fixed his gaze on Ruby’s motel room. The lights were on, and he wondered if she had already finished her dinner. Was she at that very minute getting ready for bed? He refused to take his speculation any further. Thoughts like that would definitely rob him of his sleep, and he desperately needed the restorative powers of a good night’s rest.

  “Somewhere in southeastern West Virginia. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Job going well?”

  Just how was the job going? Not the way he had expected it to, that was for sure. As a matter of fact, if he had to give himself a grade for his performance so far, it would be a dismal C-plus. On the positive side, he wasn’t bored. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being bored in Ruby’s company. Irritated, yes. Exasperated beyond all measure, definitely. So aroused he thought his body might explode, absolutely. But never ever bored.

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “Then what’s bothering you?”

  Antonio blinked. He should have known better than to think he could hide anything from his older brother. Not only was Carlo chief of police in the town where he lived, he had practically raised Antonio after the death of their mother. There was precious little that escaped Carlo’s sharp eyes and ears. None of his childhood antics had, anyway.

  “You’re a happily married man, right?” Antonio asked, already knowing the answer. Whenever he saw them, Carlo and Samantha appeared the picture of bliss.

  “Yes, I am. Why do you ask?
”

  “I just assume that, as a happily married man, you should understand women.”

  It took Carlo a full minute to stop laughing. A full minute during which Antonio had to hold the phone away from his head to keep his ears from ringing.

  “Okay,” he muttered when silence finally reigned once more. “So that was a stupid assumption.”

  “Who is the woman you want to understand?” Carlo asked.

  Without giving any particulars about the job, Antonio told Carlo about Ruby and all her seeming contradictions.

  “You like this woman, don’t you?”

  A loaded question if Antonio had ever heard one. “Like isn’t exactly the word I would use. We don’t have that much in common.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “Hell, I don’t even respect her.”

  “But she keeps you off balance.”

  “Put it this way. If I were a tightrope walker, I would definitely need a net.”

  “And you’re attracted to her.”

  Antonio gave a long sigh. “That’s the hell of it.”

  “Why does it bother you so much to feel that way?”

  “Wouldn’t it bother you?”

  There was a brief pause. “Well, I am married.”

  “Seriously, Carlo. You’re a cop. If you found yourself attracted to a woman who was the antithesis of everything you found admirable in a person, wouldn’t it upset you?”

  “Yes, I suppose it would.”

  “Well, there you have it.”

  “Especially if I were interested in something other than a one-night stand,” Carlo added.

  Antonio felt his back go up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’ve never asked my advice about a woman before.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you think that’s significant?”

  There were many advantages to coming from a large family. One of the major disadvantages was that his siblings tended to stick their big noses in his business whenever it pleased them to. And it pleased them a lot.