“Well, pardon me if I’ve inconvenienced you. It’s not like I go around looking for them, you know.” She glared at him. Her throat hurt. This was their first real fight since becoming a “couple,” and with her nerves already shredded, tears would be just too humiliating.
“Don’t bother giving me a ride. I’ll call a taxi,” she said stiffly, and turned to walk away.
Mike grabbed her arm right above the elbow and turned her around. “Christ, let’s not argue about it. I’m giving you a ride.”
She pushed his hand off her arm and squared off from him, bristling. “Touch me again and I’ll punch you.”
His brow shot up, but he didn’t reach for her again. “Okay. So it’s going to be like that. If I say I’d like to take you home, please, does that sound better?”
“That depends. Is this an ‘I want to take you home because you’re upset’ thing, or an ‘I have to take you home to make sure you don’t find another body’ thing?”
“Mostly the first one. Some of the second one.”
She thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay. That sounds fair.”
The ride home was quiet, except for the radio. Uncle Kracker sang Follow Me, and Harley drummed her fingers to the beat and stared out the window. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far to her apartment. Pea gravel crunched under the Corvette’s tires when he came to a stop in back of the red brick house divided into four apartments.
“You don’t have to come up,” she said, opening her door and putting her feet out before he even had the brake set. “I’m fine.”
“I’m sure you are. I’m coming up anyway. Unless you tell me I can’t.”
“No, I’m not saying that. I have a feeling it wouldn’t do me any good if I did.” She looked at him over her shoulder.
He turned off the ignition. “You know better than that.”
“Yeah. I guess I do. Okay. Come up if you want.”
It felt so awkward and stiff, when she really wanted it to be like it’d always been before. She wasn’t good at this kind of thing. She did just fine as long as things went along smoothly, but the first bump in the relationship road, and she came unraveled. There was a string of past boyfriends to prove that. Only one long-term love in her life before Morgan, if she didn’t count George, the fish she had released in the Audubon Park koi pond. And, of course, Sam, who’d wheedled his way into her life with a pair of big blue eyes and a few moves that had twice saved her from disaster.
But she’d begun to think Morgan might just be The One. She should have known better. Her track record of failed relationships was nearly as bad as Bobby’s.
Sam greeted her at the door with a disapproving miaoow that escalated into a chorus of complaints until she poured more dry food into his bowl and added a little canned food to the top of it. Siamese cats could be very vocal, not that she minded too much. She and Sam made a nice duet.
“I have leftover takeout,” she said to Morgan, “if you want anything to eat.”
“If it’s Taco Bell, no thanks. That’s better fresh.”
“Chinese.”
“Sounds good.” He seemed to feel as awkward as she did, and she didn’t know quite how to take that. Was he working up to a break up or just still upset about the dead Elvis in her van?
Only one way to find out.
“So,” she said when she put the heated plate of fried rice and egg rolls in front of him, “is this a break up?”
He gave her a startled look. “What are you talking about?”
“Me finding bodies. You not liking that. Us. Maybe we need to talk about it.”
“Yeah. Well. I’m not really good at that kind of conversation.”
“Me either.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, and Sam immediately jumped up on the cushioned arm to sniff her plate. He purred. Little beggar. She gave him a piece of rice and he gave her a horrified look. Then he leaped down to cross to Morgan, who had chicken fried rice.
Morgan obliged the cat with a piece of chicken, and then looked over at Harley. “Maybe we just need a break from each other. Just for a couple weeks or a month. Something like that. Give us time to think about ... things.”
Her throat got tight, but she nodded casually. “I think you’re right. I don’t want you to feel like I’m jeopardizing your job, and lately I can’t seem to stop tripping over bodies. I don’t know what it is. Some kind of murder magnet, I guess.”
One corner of his mouth tucked into a wry smile. “Any chance you can get rid of it?”
“Always a chance, but since I don’t know how I got it, I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
After a moment of heavy silence he said, “It’s just that we’ve got this big case going on, it takes a lot of time and all my concentration. Sometimes it’s a good thing that you’re a distraction. This isn’t one of those times. I think about you when I should be thinking about the case. Now you’re mixed up in another screwy murder case, and I’ll be worrying about you. If I knew—”
“No, it’s okay. Really. I understand. And I don’t blame you. I worry about you, too, and when you’re on an undercover assignment, you don’t need to be thinking about anything else. I couldn’t stand it if I caused you to be hurt or killed.”
It was even more awkward after that, and when he left, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and closed the door behind him. Sam, perched atop the back of the off-white cushioned chair in the living room, paused in washing his face with his paw to look up at her quizzically.
“Looks like I blew another one,” she said, but it didn’t seem to make any difference to the cat. He went back to washing his face. She threw out the rest of the Chinese, washed up the dirty dishes, cleaned cat hair off the chair and poured herself a glass of sweet tea from the pitcher she kept in the refrigerator. Then she went out to sit on the small balcony that overlooked Overton Park and the zoo. White concrete banisters curved into graceful knots next to red brick walls. She sat in her chair, propped her feet up on the railing, and sucked down nearly half of the tea in one or two gulps. Early evening silence began to settle on the neighborhood. Rush hour traffic had eased, joggers and mosquitoes came out, and people walked their dogs in the park.
It was a great place to live. A stately, dark-red brick structure that looked more like an old house than an apartment building because it had once housed a single family, it now held four separate apartments. Concrete balconies and curvy masonry trim were kept a bright white, and the magnolia tree in the front yard looked to be at least thirty feet high. It had survived all storms so far, and creamy blossoms that smelled lemony sweet grew big as dinner plates every year. Oak trees shaded the back, and hedges along each side of the green front yard muffled noise from the street and provided shelter to so many birds it sounded like an aviary most of the time.
The neighborhood was a mix of one-family homes and apartment buildings like this one, a quiet area of Memphis, or as quiet as it could be with the busy thoroughfare of Poplar Avenue only a stone’s throw away. At night, she heard the shriek of peacocks and the roar of lions and tigers in the zoo. During the day, the grumble of city bus engines drowned out other sounds. In the summertime, the nights held the busy whine of mosquitoes looking for their next meal. She slapped at one on her arm and thought about going inside.
Her house phone rang. Suddenly, going inside wasn’t that appealing. Phone calls these days rarely held good news. There was the chance it could be a harmless call, but why be foolish? While she debated, it rang again and her answering machine clicked on. Diva’s husky alto drifted out the open doors. “Harley, nothing is forever, not even the bad times.”
That was so Diva. She always seemed to know things. Very disconcerting. Of course, Diva could mean anything from Sorry you found a dead body to Sorry you can’t find that ten dollars to balance your checkbook. But knowing Diva, it was about the other calamity in her daughter’s life. Morgan.
Sighing, Harley got up and went inside to pick up the phone. “I know,” s
he said.
“This will pass, Harley. Then all will be well again.”
Sam jumped onto her lap when she sat down in the chair, and she started stroking his soft fur with her free hand. He began to purr loudly and, oddly enough, it made her feel better. “Any chance I can hold you to that?” she asked her mother.
Diva laughed softly. “See? You’ll be fine. The circle must be completed.”
A soft throb started behind her eyes, and Harley put her fingers to her temples. “What circle? Or do I want to know?”
When Diva went off into her talk of mantras and chakras and chi and spirit guides and all that other stuff she believed in, Harley thought about the baker’s dozen of Elvises that had been on the van. One of them had to be the killer. The guy didn’t stab himself in the back. If she went over the list of passengers to be picked up at the hotels, maybe she could remember who got on where. The odd man out would be the killer. This time, though, she intended to give the info to Bobby and not go off on her own. It only caused more trouble.
And right now, that was the last thing she needed.
Maybe she should go on vacation. Get some fresh air, see new sights, leave town for a while until this all blew over.
“Harley?” Diva said, sounding like she’d said her name a few times before.
“Sorry. Just focusing on what I should do instead of what I did do.”
“You didn’t cause anything. It’s just that your life force is so strong it generates energy that attracts negative as well as positive. There’s a reason for that.”
“What is it? I’d give a week’s pay to know.”
Diva’s laugh was soft. “It will come to you.”
“Right. Let’s hope it comes in time.”
“It will. Your spirit guides are keeping you safe.”
“I think my spirit guides took a flight to Vegas. How come they never show up when I need them?”
“But they do, Harley. They’re always with you.”
“Today they’re on a winning streak at the blackjack tables. Looks to me like it’s time to get them back on the job.”
“No need. It was the Elvis who died today, not you.”
Diva had a point.
Harley thought about that while she was brushing her teeth before bed. There had been some narrow escapes lately. Bobby had said it was sheer dumb luck that kept her alive, but what did he know? He never gave her enough credit. And Morgan—well, obviously he didn’t give her much either.
Not that she could blame him. A brief inspection in the bathroom mirror was reason enough for any man with half-decent eyesight to run the opposite way. The gelled blond spikes of her favorite hairstyle had gone limp. She looked like a drowned hedgehog. Her hair was a little too long to stick up like it should, anyway. Maybe it needed to be cut again. Or grown out. Such a major decision required another opinion. She turned to look at the cat sitting atop the closed toilet lid.
“What do you think, Sam? Should I let my hair grow out or get it cut?”
Sam offered no opinion either way. He continued to clean his face with a paw and ignore her plight. Just like a male. Never there when you really needed them.
That made her think of her latest purchase. A sexy pair of red silk panties she’d bought at Victoria’s Secret and tucked into her underwear drawer for a special occasion. She’d planned on wearing them for Morgan. A surprise for him since her usual choice was plain white cotton bikinis and a sports bra. Not exactly sexy, but she’d never heard any complaints.
Now, of course, he’d miss the red silk panties. Damn him.
Chapter Three
“Leave it alone, baby.” Tootsie frowned and leaned closer to her. “It never works out good when you start meddling.”
“I’m not meddling. I’m investigating. And I intend to turn over anything I find out to the police, so you don’t need to worry about me going off on my own anymore.”
“Uh hunh. I seem to remember you saying that a time or two before. And look how that turned out.”
Sitting in a chair behind the reception desk with the printouts he’d gotten for her, she dismissed the reminder with a wave of her hand. “This time is different. I’m only going over this list of passengers to see if I can match the name to the face. The one I don’t recall will be the killer. It’s very simple. Some guy snuck on the van in the middle of the other Elvises, and for some reason, killed one of them.”
“Right. And this became your problem how?”
“When I found a dead Elvis with a knife in his back, for starters.”
“You know what I mean, honey. Let the police handle it. They’ll match names to faces and figure out who was supposed to be where. Somehow, they usually manage to find the perp.”
“The perp? I love it when you talk cop to me. So how is Steve?”
Steve was Tootsie’s significant other, though Harley had never met him and had serious doubts as to his existence.
Still, it was polite to ask about him, and a good way to change the subject.
Tootsie grinned. “Gorgeous as always. How’s your cop?”
“Gone.” She tried not to flinch when she said that. For some reason, Morgan had gotten to her more than any guy ever had. That should have been her first clue that he’d take off.
Tootsie sat back in his office chair and stared at her. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Like the wind, you know—pfftt! Off to play with the bad guys and leave us bad girls behind, I guess.”
“I don’t believe it. He’s crazy about you.”
“Apparently not. I think it’s my habit of hanging around with dead guys. Seems to make some cops nervous.”
“Understandable. Harley—what’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just time for us to be over. We had a pretty good run, I guess. May until July isn’t too bad.”
Tootsie rolled his eyes. “And they say men aren’t monogamous. What are you going to do now?”
“Figure out which of these guys wasn’t supposed to be on that van, and then call Bobby. After that, I’ve got a run to Graceland, right?”
“Right. But if you aren’t up to it—”
“I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world, just a guy.” She left it like that, and after a minute Tootsie went back to work at the computer and answering the phone. Good thing. She wasn’t at all sure she felt that way this time. Dammit.
The best antidote for uncertainty was work. Or so she’d heard.
It was harder than she’d thought matching the names to faces, especially when she hadn’t really looked at them. They all looked the same, some taller, shorter, thinner, fatter, but basically all alike. And photos on driver’s licenses were notoriously bad anyway. Her photo looked like a demented David Bowie, for instance, her lip curled in a sneer that she’d meant as a smile, and hair standing up atop her head like she’d stuck her finger into an electrical socket. It was the only picture of her where the resemblance to her brother could be seen. Except Eric’s eyes were blue, hers were green, and he had chameleon-color hair while hers usually stayed light blond with a few darker streaks.
By the time she had to leave to pick up the van for her run to Graceland, she still hadn’t figured out who was who. She’d only matched four names with Elvis faces, and that was because she figured out the tallest, shortest, fattest, thinnest. Maybe she couldn’t help out after all. Not a bad thing. Her efforts at help in the past had only led to disaster anyway. This had to be a karmic sign. She needed to think about something else for a change, so she picked up her van and headed out.
One good thing about driving in Memphis—it required the concentration of a NASCAR driver to get to a destination without playing bumper cars. An excellent distraction.
Poplar Avenue traffic was always heavy. Today, as always, there were Memphis drivers who celebrated sunshine with their usual disregard for courtesy or traffic lights. A driver with Tennessee plates on his rusty El Camino leaned on his horn and yelled “Mississippi driver!
” at a transgressor, and the driver in the shiny new SUV from DeSoto County, just across the Mississippi state line only a few miles south of Memphis, returned the welcome greeting with a snappy one-finger salute. Tourism at its best. West Tennessee, North Mississippi, and a wide strip of eastern Arkansas formed the Mid-South, or Tri-State area. Memphis was the crossroads for trucks, trains, and planes delivering merchandise in the Southeast and up the Eastern Seaboard. Home of Federal Express, Nike, a Northwest Airlines hub, Elvis Presley, BB King, and the Grizzlies basketball team—all lucrative enterprises—Memphis was the last stop before I-55 dipped into the Deep South. It also made quite a handy route for drug traffickers transporting their products out of Mexico to customers up north.
Changes in the past three decades included a lot more than integrated schools and a black mayor. Martin Luther King had died in a shabby motel downtown, bringing Memphis infamy back in the sixties, but Elvis had already integrated music with his love of gospel and the blues. Once known as just a “big country town,” Memphis had imported more than its share of residents from as far away as China, and quite a few from places like New Jersey and Michigan. Chinese restaurants and Sharp manufacturing employees were welcomed, and longtime residents greeted them with friendly curiosity.
Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis Page 3
