by Mia Dymond
Ben swallowed hard at the smooth, silky female voice behind him. Allison.
“She’s quite beautiful,” Allison prompted.
Ben cleared his throat and attempted to come up with some sort of explanation for his current state. Impossible. He’d just seen several half-naked, beautiful women. Three, to be exact. His screaming hard-on was a purely normal physical reaction for any hot-blooded male.
“Yes, she is,” he agreed.
“Shopping?”
“No, you know why I’m here.”
“I do and you’re wasting your time.”
He forced his gaze from Lucy’s delectable body and turned to face Allison. Painful erection and all. “Just doing my job.”
“Do you really think we killed Dr. Smallwood or had anything to do with it?”
He was careful with his answer. “I have to rule you out.”
She laughed. “And following us is going to help you do that?”
He grimaced. “When did you notice me?”
She shrugged. “As soon as we left the clinic.”
He wanted to deny her knowledge but he knew better. Surveillance was the name of the game in her book.
“I repeat, Detective, you’re wasting your time.” She nodded at the dressing area. “That is, unless you have ulterior motives for your actions.”
His hard-on jumped. Damn, she was good. “No.”
“Well, then.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Do whatever you feel necessary to investigate. Far be it from me to obstruct justice.” She turned to leave him and then glanced back over her shoulder. “Just remember, Lucy and I aren’t the only ones being watched.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once she and Lucy were tucked safely in the privacy of their own home, Allison pulled back the dining room curtain. The detective remained parked in front of the house. With a sigh, she left the window.
“Boot your laptop, Luce.”
Scar entered the room, leapt onto the couch, and stretched out across the cushions. “Do we have a guest, child?”
Allison snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a guest. He’s spent most of the day following us.”
Scar lifted his top lip in an attempt to smirk. “You led him on a merry chase, si?”
Allison returned a mischievous grin. “Of course.”
Scar yawned and then laid his head on his paws. “That’s my girl. Now, what will you do with him?”
Allison lifted an eyebrow. “What I would like to do with him is illegal, Uncle.”
The dog lifted his snout. “It is truly against the law?”
Allison chuckled. “Yes. This time, it really is.”
Scar returned his head to his feet. “He is stubborn, my dear. Otherwise he wouldn’t freeze his backside off while watching you.”
Lucy’s fingernails clicked against the computer keys. “I’m online, Allison. What am I looking for?”
“Maplewood Police Department.” She glanced at Scar. “Personnel files.”
Scar gave a soft growl. “Brilliant.”
“Authorized access only.” Lucy’s soft giggle filled the room. “Yeah right.”
Allison peered over her shoulder. A few more clicks and Detective Ramsey’s information graced the screen. “You’re a pro! Uncle Sergio would be so proud.”
Allison read down the page. Detective Ben Ramsey, age thirty four, on the force for ten years. Three citations for bravery, and ... hmm ... six reprimands for insubordination. Detective Ramsey, you are a bad, bad boy. Parents still alive and married to each other. Impressive. Two brothers. A family man.
“See if you can get his case file on Smallwood.”
Lucy typed a few more commands until the information appeared. There wasn’t much to read other than the background checks on her and Lucy. No other suspects were mentioned and his report on the search of the clinic was pending. Darn.
Allison stood and paced. What if he actually found some kind of evidence that suggested she and Lucy killed Dr. Smallwood? Lucy was way too pretty for prison. A cold chill tickled her backbone. She picked up a palm-sized remote, turned on the gas fireplace, and glanced back at the window. Maybe she could weasel something out of Detective Ramsey. By now he was probably frozen out there. Besides, if he insisted on keeping an eye on them, he could do it from inside the house just as well.
Allison glanced at Scar, sprawled on the sofa, his head moving from side to side as he watched her. “I’m going to see if the detective wants to come inside to warm up.”
Scar raised both ears. “You are going to interrogate him.”
Allison nodded. “Yes. I need more information about his investigation.”
“And you believe he will tell you?”
Lucy breathed a heavy sigh. “Who knows? It beats pacing the floor, wondering what he’s up to.”
Scar narrowed his eyes. “Do you need my assistance? I find I can be very convincing in my animal state.”
Allison tossed Scar’s suggestion around in her head. In his human life, Antonio Scarletti could’ve absolutely assured Detective Ramsey’s cooperation, but now the fear factor had increased ten-fold. Still, she felt confident she could persuade him.
“No thanks, Uncle, I can handle him myself.”
Scar placed two paws on the floor and then eased his back feet off the sofa to stand. “As you wish. I will not go far. I will be in the kitchen. This I must watch.”
Allison turned to Lucy as Scar padded from the room. “Do you want to invite him in?”
Lucy jumped from the chair. “Yes, please!” She slipped on her shoes and coat and practically skipped from the house.
Allison stepped back to peer out the window. A few seconds later, the car window lowered and Lucy leaned toward Detective Ramsey.
Allison could almost hear the gears grind in his brain as he glanced first at Lucy then toward the house. He would crack. Any minute now. She waited patiently until the car door opened.
Round one, Lucy. Now all she had to do was get him to talk, which might not be an easy task. He was all about business. Murder tended to do that to a body. Except in her family. Drink first, then murder. She smiled to herself as she left the window. Or, Lucy could always wear the red teddy.
Once the detective stood inside the house, Lucy closed the door, handed him her coat, and gestured to a coat rack next to the table in the adjoining dining room. “You hang the coats and we’ll go make us something warm to drink.”
As Ben watched Lucy turn on one heel and sway out of the room, he rolled facts through his head and shrugged out of his coat. His earlier review of courthouse records revealed that Lucy and Allison purchased the two-story, four bedroom brick home five years ago. There was no mortgage holder and the two women were deeded as the owners. An unusual feat for two single women under the age of thirty, both of who worked in a physician’s office.
Glancing around the living area, Ben found himself impressed by the decor. The walls were covered by several paintings, all framed in rich, dark wood. Intrigued, he took a closer look at one hung over the fireplace. Two people, a man and a woman with their fingers intertwined, were seated at a small table in what appeared to be a sidewalk café. Two coffee cups labeled espresso rested on the table in front of them. A scrawling, illegible signature occupied the right bottom corner.
He glanced at another on the opposite wall. Several, tall, thin buildings, worn and losing paint, were painted along both sides of a cobblestone path, perhaps representing a small, aging village. He drew his eyes down the path and found a colorful flower garden, complete with a circular bricked structure filled with bright blue water. A naked cement woman stood in the middle of the pool and balanced a pitcher on her shoulder so that the water flowing from it created a waterfall. Again, the same signature occupied the right hand lower corner.
He didn’t consider himself a connoisseur of fine art, but Ben knew these paintings were hand painted. And expensive. Were they gifts?
Taking a moment to consider the origination
of the paintings, Ben glanced at yet other painting above the sofa. This one was considerably smaller and he stepped closer. Blood pounded in his veins. An upside down triangle occupied the middle of the canvas. Two snakes with their mouths opened wide and their forked tongues exposed wrapped themselves around the upper left and right corners of the triangle. In bold black letters, a name was centered in the middle. Scarletti.
A chill ran through his body. A family crest.
Additional text written in script appeared along the bottom in another language. Lealta´ oltre la morte. He released a deep breath. Hell. Probably a warning of some sort.
Noise from the kitchen pulled him from his thoughts and he filed his observations away for future review. Leaving the living room, he hung both coats then glanced around the dining room. Flickering light from the computer on the table stopped him. The machine rested there, open, booted, and flashing a multi-colored screensaver. One push of a button could reveal the contents on the screen. His fingers tingled with indecision. He didn’t have a warrant. Searching the computer would be illegal. Besides, he was only here to ask questions.
Anxious to leave the room before being caught, Ben accidentally bumped the desk with his hip. He stopped and glanced at the computer. The dancing colors instantly disappeared and black and white text took their place. A smile separated his lips while he read.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Lucy nearly slammed the cabinet door on her fingers as she reached for the coffee mugs.
Allison frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I left the computer open.”
“So? The screensaver will keep him from seeing anything.”
“Oh yeah.” Lucy’s shoulders relaxed. “Unless he moves the mouse.”
Allison fought the urge to laugh. No doubt he would try. “Why don’t you go see if he got lost. I’ll finish this.”
Lucy returned quickly with Detective Ramsey.
Allison handed him a cup and motioned to the table. “Is the kitchen okay or would you prefer the dining room?”
His lips gave a slight twitch. “This is fine.”
He reached for the back of a chair and froze. Allison glanced beneath the table. Scar lay there, his head cocked to one side and his eyes glowing red.
“Relax, Detective. His name is Scar. Give him a few minutes and he’ll go back to sleep.”
Detective Ramsey moved his gaze back to her. “I’m not sure.”
Scar bared a row of straight, white teeth. Allison nudged him with her foot. “That’s enough, Scar. Go back to sleep or I’ll put you out.”
The lazy beast lowered his head to the floor and snickered.
Allison shook her head and pointed at the opposite chair. “Have a seat.”
Detective Ramsey pulled out the chair and sat. “Did your dog just laugh?”
Lucy released something between a hiccup and a giggle as she sat down next to him. “That’s impossible.”
Allison folded herself into a chair and wrapped her fingers around her warm cup. The detective stretched his long legs underneath the table. Scar released a low, menacing growl.
Allison smirked. “Is something wrong, Detective?”
He glanced at Lucy then back at Allison. “Call me Ben.” He took a drink from his mug. “What’s in this coffee?”
“It’s not coffee,” Lucy explained. “We don’t go near the stuff. Too much caffeine. It’s hot chocolate.”
“What’s on top?”
Allison fought the urge to feed his suspicion. “It’s not laced with anything. Those are marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles. Would you rather have coffee? There might be some instant around here.” She twisted her lips and couldn’t resist another jab. “Scar drinks it.”
He waited for his obvious question. Instead, he released a soft chuckle. “This is fine.”
He took a long swallow and set his mug back on the table. Lucy giggled beside him. He raised an eyebrow as if he waited for her explanation.
She handed him a napkin. “You have a marshmallow mustache.”
She thought she saw the beginning of a smile tip the corner of his mouth as he wiped the foam from his lip. “I’ve never seen paintings like the ones in your living room.”
Recognizing his subtle push for information, Allison decided to play along. “Of course not. My uncle painted them.”
“The one over the couch is unique.”
“Most definitely,” she agreed. “That’s the Scarletti family crest.”
“What does the inscription say?”
She cleared her throat and looked him square in the eye. “It’s Italian. Loyalty beyond death.”
A muscle jumped at the base of his jaw and he tightened a hold on his mug. “I need a little more information about where you were on the night of the murder.”
Allison’s gaze never wavered. “I told you. I had dinner with my family.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you had dinner with your family, but then something else happened.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “You tell me. Maybe Lucy did Smallwood in and then you helped her cover it up.”
Allison couldn’t stop her laughter. He obviously had no idea who he dealt with. “You honestly believe we could do that alone?”
“I didn’t say you did it alone.”
Lucy interrupted before Allison could set him straight. “You are absolutely insane!” she screeched.
Ben appeared unaffected by her tantrum. “I believe there’s a whole helluva lot more to the story than the two of you are telling me.”
Lucy’s good old-fashioned freak out continued. “Out.” She knocked over her chair as she stood. Scar raised himself to all four feet.
“Lucy ...” Ben paused at Scar’s presence.
Lucy ignored him. “No. No more. Get out!”
Allison followed as Lucy shoved him out of the kitchen, through the living room and out the front door. “And don’t even think about coming back.” Allison handed Lucy his coat. With one last unladylike snort, Lucy threw it at him and slammed the door in his face.
Lucy’s chest heaved. “He has some nerve to come in here, take advantage of our good manners and then accuse us of offing our boss.”
Scar entered the room and nudged her hand with his head. “Calm down, little one, there is no need to panic.”
Lucy took a few deep breaths. “Detective Ramsey has me pegged as the weakest link in his investigation.” She shrugged and pushed herself off the door. “Fat chance. Throwing him out was one of the strongest things I’ve ever done.”
***
Carmine watched in silence as the four other men took their seats around the oak conference table. He lifted his glass and took a long drink of the fine wine. Each one of these men was here for her.
Again.
The pint-sized princess had them all over a barrel.
Again.
Carmine chuckled and set his wineglass on the table.
She was a tiny, powerful stick of dynamite, one that could
blow them all to Kingdom Come. Yet, all of them, including himself, loved her unconditionally. Every one of them would give his life for her.
A respected quiet blanketed the room as the Don sought
assistance from his personally-carved cane and ambled to the chair at the head of the table. Once seated, he hung the cane from the edge of the table and brought the meeting to order.
“Gentlemen, I must know what progress has been made.”
The associate seated next to the Don stood. “I have
acquired a name.”
The Don quirked an eyebrow. “Can your source be trusted?”
“Most certainly.”
“You can assure our niece’s cooperation?”
The associate pulled at the corner of his mustache. “With
all due respect, Don, one can never assure her cooperation.”
The men gathered around the table laughed softly in u
nison at the confession.
“Yet,” the associate continued, “she will accept this
source easier than most.”
The Don steepled his fingers against his chin for a brief moment and then nodded. “Proceed.”
CHAPTER NINE
Across the street from Smallwood’s clinic, Luke stood hidden behind the massive trunk of an aged oak tree with his cell phone pressed against his ear, listening to Ramsey relay facts about the previous night’s meeting with his suspects.
“You got caught?” Although he asked the question mainly to harass Ramsey, Luke wasn’t the least bit surprised about the turn of events.
Ramsey dodged the jab. “That’s why I called you, Owens.” And then took a jab of his own. “You being such a smooth operator and all.”
Luke shook his head. “I’m not sure smooth has anything to do with it. Following them is so complicated that it’s almost stupid.” Any moron would know Allison possessed exceptional street smarts and years of schooling by Scarletti. “You sure you want to try this?”
“Try? I thought you were a professional.”
Luke scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “I am, but I also value my life.”
“She’s not dangerous, for Christ’s sake,” Ramsey spat. “I just need to know she’s not hiding something.”
Luke gave a very forced half laugh. “Ramsey, believe me when I say if she’s hiding something, we’ll never find it.”
“Are you in or out?”
After several seconds of contemplation, Luke couldn’t help but admit, Allison had aroused his interest. In several ways. “You realize you can’t use anything I find.”
“I’ll find a way.”
Luke’s gut clenched when he redirected his gaze to the clinic and Allison stepped out of the clinic, casually placed her sunglasses on her face, and swayed down the block. He stole a glance at his watch. Five o’clock. Right on time.
“I’m in. Later, Ramsey.”
Luke disconnected and buried the phone in one pocket. He gave her a respectable distance ahead of him and kept a close eye on her as she zigzagged through the crowd of people on the sidewalk until she made her way into a small corner market. Luke waited several seconds and then slipped through the open doorway and tucked himself into a corner behind a display of herbs. His nose twitched at overpowering, spicy scents of oregano, garlic and basil.
