I carefully stepped over Pilot, who was preoccupied with tearing a chew toy to shreds, as Lizzie reviewed yet another outfit.
“Don’t take this personally, but this is from my fat period. Whaddaya think?” she asked, holding it up for approval.
I actually thought it looked pretty good. I tried on the sleeveless black dress and surveyed the result in her mirror. Lizzie’s fat period fit my five-foot-eight frame to a tee. The ribbed cotton dress ended just above my knees, which meant it must have been down to Lizzie’s ankles. Though form-fitting, it was still flattering. Enough so to make me nervous. My stomach was already in a mass of knots over having accepted a date.
“It’s perfect, Rach. You look terrific,” Lizzie announced. “Though the high neck does make you look a bit like a nun.”
Considering the way the dress fit, I felt certain no one would accidentally mistake me for one.
“You’re sure this isn’t too much?” I asked, examining my image closely.
“This is Vegas, Rach. Too much is wearing a chinchilla coat in the middle of summer or dressing in a feathered G-string for church on Christmas Eve. Otherwise, I’d say you’re pretty safe,” Lizzie advised. “Loosen up: in a few more years, you won’t be able to fit into a dress like this. So enjoy it while you can.”
That was a cheerful thought. As it was, I wondered if I was pushing the line now.
Lizzie picked up the pile of discarded clothes and threw them into her closet. “By the way, I should have something for you tomorrow on that guy at the Center. I finally located his file. Jeez, what a pain in the ass—you’d think he was CIA or something, the way it was buried inside the system. But now I just have to access it.”
I had a hard time reconciling the Lizzie before me, in her skintight, hot-pink pedal pushers, with the computer whiz she obviously was at work.
“Thanks for helping me pick out a dress, Lizzie,” I said, glancing at my reflection.
I was still unsure if I was actually going to wear it. I knew I’d feel more relaxed in something a bit more demure. Say, jeans and a tee shirt. But I figured I’d solve that problem when I got home without hurting Lizzie’s feelings.
“On the Holmes file, why don’t I pop over tomorrow around noon and pick it up? I’ll bring lunch,” I offered.
“I’ll need a lot of energy,” Lizzie informed me.
“Okay. I’ll throw in a couple of Ring Dings.” Pilot and I headed out the door, but I wasn’t about to shake Lizzie.
“Hey, wait for me. Who’s going to supervise those all-important final touches?” Lizzie asked, closing the door to her bungalow behind us.
Back home, I fiddled with the TV until I found a show that Pilot liked, while Lizzie rummaged through my shoes and jewelry. My plan to change into something else had been foiled. I took one last look in the mirror. I had actually managed to make my hair behave so that it hung in long, loose curls reaching down past my shoulders. I prayed it would stay that way, not frizzing up until dinner was over. I grabbed my shoulder bag and automatically stashed my 9mm inside.
“Hey, Rach. You’ve got to learn to be a little bit more optimistic about things. I mean, just how bad do you expect this date to be?” Lizzie asked wryly.
I realized it didn’t go with the outfit, but ever since finding Annie McCarthy’s bones in a tub, I’d become more cautious about traveling unarmed.
“You’d be amazed how much better a guy behaves once they know you’re packing,” I told Lizzie. I walked out the door and headed for the mine.
The roar of haul paks permeated the air long before I reached the Golden Shaft. When it came into view, I was surprised to see that the entrance to the main tunnel was lit up, as well as an area that looked like an improvised landing strip.
This time the security guard with his M-16 didn’t bother to ask if I was fed or state but nonchalantly let me through the gate. I’d assumed that office personnel would have gone home by now, so I was surprised to walk in and find the receptionist, Dee Salvano, still seated at her desk. The can of peanut brittle had been replaced by a glass jar of jelly beans, which Dee scooped into her mouth by the handful.
“Long time no see,” she commented as I entered the room. “Is that your mine-touring outfit you’re wearing tonight?”
She was the kind of gal I would have loved to elbow while pushing onto a subway. But since I was the proverbial stranger in a strange land, I held my breath and behaved.
“I’m here to see Brian Anderson,” I replied, uncomfortably aware of what I was wearing.
“Lucky you.” Digging through the jar, she located a purple jelly bean and popped it into her mouth. “He’s in a meeting, so you’ll have to wait.”
That was nothing new. I carefully sat on the vinyl couch, fighting to keep Lizzie’s dress from riding up my thighs. I noticed that the reading material hadn’t changed, so I amused myself by trying to guess the number of jelly beans in the jar—a challenge, considering the rate at which Dee was eating them.
She suddenly pushed away from the desk and announced, “I’m going to the can. If anyone else pops in all dolled up, tell them to stay put and wait.”
I sat alone in the deserted reception area, realizing that I had two options: either I could tip the jar over and cheat on the jelly bean count or I could follow Noah’s advice and play by NDOW’s and the mine’s rules—down and dirty. If I timed it right, this would be the perfect opportunity to check the mine’s freezer.
I looked down the empty hallway. Evidently any office personnel still around were tied up in the meeting. The only thing I had to worry about was Dee. There was no telling how soon she’d return.
Now or never, I thought.
I quietly made my way down the hall, gingerly approaching the bathroom, certain that Dee would come barging out and find me—but all was quiet on the bathroom front. It’s hard to feel inconspicuous in a skintight black dress, but I did my best imitation of Nancy Drew, hugging the wall as I quickly tiptoed toward the freezer room. I tried the knob and let loose a sigh of relief. The door wasn’t locked. Slipping inside, I shut it behind me.
The stainless steel freezer cast a morguelike pall on the room. A shiver rippled through me and goose bumps popped out on my arms—not an attractive asset to flaunt in a sleeveless dress, but, it couldn’t be helped. Death gives me the jitters, be it human or animal.
I stood perfectly still and listened as hard as I could for any telltale signs, like the flushing of a toilet. But the building was ominously quiet. The sterile smell of rubbing alcohol pervaded the air, causing my eyes to water.
Great. There goes my makeup.
I walked across the floor and grasped the cool steel handle of the freezer, hesitating for a moment as I reflected on the repercussions of what I was about to do. It was certainly against every rule and regulation in the state of Nevada. I also knew that getting caught could very well blow my career to smithereens. On the other hand, if I didn’t go through with it, I wouldn’t be doing my job as far as I was concerned. Besides, this would even the score.
The freezer door squeaked open, sounding like an ear-shattering blast in my brain. Then I spotted the contents. An array of dead migratory birds littered the freezer, from sandpipers to ibis to sparrows. But what was hidden away on the top shelf took the prize. Five flattened tortoises lay stacked one on top of the other, looking like a short-order cook’s version of hungry man flapjacks. I swiftly pulled all five of the torts out of the freezer and shoved their carcasses inside my bag.
I closed the freezer door, my goose bumps replaced by a sheen of cold sweat as I tried to figure out what to do next. I couldn’t very well go to dinner with five tortoise patties thawing inside my shoulder bag. I wasn’t even sure if I would make it down the hall unobserved, or if I’d be caught, tarred, and feathered on the spot. There were certainly enough dead birds stashed away with which to do it.
I looked down to see a reptilian leg sticking out of my bag and quickly shoved it back inside, then I opened the d
oor a crack and peeked out. No one was in the hall. Scurrying through, I quickly made my way back to Reception, every nerve ending in my body on high alert. I expected to find Dee Salvano crouched in predatory expectation, her jar of jelly beans held high in her hand, waiting to konk me on the head. But the seat at her desk was still empty. I darted outside, hauling my booty with me.
A hot, breathless wind greeted me, working its way from my ankles to the top of my head in a binding rope of heat. I walked toward the car, fully aware that I’d have five defrosted tortoises on my hands by the time I returned from dinner. Grabbing a piece of canvas from the back of the Blazer, I quickly rolled the torts up inside. I only hoped no telltale scent of eau de torte morte would give my stash away.
Then I casually strolled back inside, where I was confronted by Dee Salvano, who stared as if aware of what I’d been up to.
“Taking an unauthorized stroll around the grounds?” she asked, smashing a black jelly bean between her thumb and index finger.
“I had a yen to hang out with the haul paks,” I replied fliply. “I didn’t think there’d be a problem with going outside to get some fresh air.”
What I wanted to do more than anything was to jump in my Blazer and take off before anyone realized that the contents of the freezer had been snatched. “Listen, if this meeting is going to go on for a while, maybe it’s best that I leave.”
Dee cut me off. “Yeah. And the air around here is real fresh, and good whiskey is still a buck a shot.”
The phrase ricocheted around my brain. Damn. Whaddaya know: I’d been right after all. I had figured Dee Salvano to be my mystery caller, with her pipeline into the inner workings of the mine and her smart-ass attitude.
I was just about to return a snappy retort when Brian Anderson rounded the corner, cutting off any chance I had to respond.
Fashionably dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves ever so casually rolled, he was wearing jeans that looked as though they had been freshly washed and pressed. A full mane of silky silver hair framed his face. It was that off-handed aren’t-I-attractive look I’d worked all my life to achieve, only to miserably fail. In my mind, the man was the image of what a modern cowboy should be: Tom Selleck and Sam Elliott rolled into one, with the perfect grin of Tom Cruise. Too bad he had a bunch of dead critters stuffed inside his freezer.
Brian took both my hands in his, squeezing them slightly as he greeted me. “Sorry the meeting went on for so long.” He stood back and surveyed me up and down before twirling me around. “I’d have been tempted to skip it altogether if I’d caught a glimpse of you waiting out here looking like this.”
Dee rolled her eyes and my face began to burn. As much as I like compliments, I never believe they’re totally true. But this time, I found myself hoping Brian meant every word. His eyes gazed into mine and a wave of heat raced through me. I was becoming attracted to the man in a major way.
“What say we get out of here? I’ve got the perfect spot in mind,” he said.
Without any warning, Brian leaned over and plucked something from my breast. Already nervous, I jumped back as if I were about to be attacked.
“A feather.” Brian laughed, holding the wispy piece of evidence up to my face. “Your job must follow you wherever you go.” If only he knew.
I wondered if Brian planned to clue me in this evening on the fact that his freezer was fully occupied. I seriously doubted it, though a girl could still dream. I turned back as we headed out the door, catching Dee’s eye. But she gave nothing away.
Brian steered me toward his Jeep. “You can leave your vehicle here,” he said, opening the car door on my side.
“That’s fine with me.” I just hoped none of his employees was as nosy as I was.
The sun was setting blood-red over the mountains as we headed down the road, the colors in the sky pulsating with the intensity of a beating heart. Just as quickly, the palette melted into shimmering twilight. This is when the desert comes alive. Purple mountains stain the landscape, as surreal as three-dimensional punchouts dropped by whimsy onto the desert floor. Gnarled and twisted Joshua trees are transformed into crusty old hermits, their bodies resuscitated by the crystalline night air. And the howls of coyotes turn your blood cold, though the temperature continues to hover at a sultry ninety degrees.
We careened down the deserted highway, passing two young girls on the opposite side of the road, their attire in startling contrast to the barrenness of the landscape around them. Flaunting iridescent blue eye shadow and ruby-red lips, they were decked out in hot pants and strapless tube tops, their hair teased into towering blond swirls. They couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. Leading a forlorn puppy on a rope, they were hitching their way to Vegas, part of the parade caught up in the hype of catching dreams.
“So how did you like my gift?” Brian asked, his eyes flickering over the girls. “Ever have a wolf dog before?”
I’d been so preoccupied with my thoughts that I’d completely forgotten to thank him. I hadn’t had a pet, since the age of thirteen, when my mother got white carpeting and life as I knew it went out the window.
“He took a little getting used to in the beginning,” I confessed. Then I thought of my confrontation with Harley and what might have happened if Pilot hadn’t been there. “But I have to admit, I feel more comfortable with him around.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brian’s teeth grazed lightly against his bottom lip, a movement I found somewhat unnerving. “Have you decided what to call him yet?”
“Pilot.” I felt an unexpected pleasure in saying the name.
Brian gave me a questioning look.
“I have lousy sense of direction,” I explained.
“You could always use a map,” Brian suggested.
I laughed. “You’ve never experienced my map-reading skills. Somehow I always end up heading in the wrong direction. Having a dog could come in handy.”
I was enjoying Brian’s company more than I felt I should. I thought of the tortoises defrosting in the back of my Blazer, and a flash of guilt hit me.
“He’s a wolf dog—there’s a difference,” he stated.
“Hmm. And what’s that?” My body temperature soared as Brian’s gaze traveled the length of my dress.
“Well, they’re smart and they’re loyal and they’ll protect you to the death. Kind of what I look for in a woman.” He nibbled at his lip again, and my nerve endings began to tingle.
“Had any luck yet?” I suddenly felt as if I were being sized for a collar.
“Nope. Not yet. But I’m hoping that will soon change.” He caught my eye and held it, slipping the collar around my neck.
A mixture of attraction and wariness made for a heady brew. I tore my gaze away, deciding to break the spell.
“So have you found any dead wildlife since my last visit?” I asked, playing my own version of Truth or Dare. “Of natural causes, of course.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Brian glanced nonchalantly out the window. “But we still hold a perfect record. Besides, don’t you think Monty Harris would fill you in if anything was found?”
“I don’t know. Would he?” I asked, going for my own casual air.
Brian turned and stared at me, his eyes a stormy gray. “Evidently you don’t think so. Is there something bothering you that I should know about, Rachel?”
I was tempted to confront him on the freezerful of critters and get the matter over with. But thankfully, logic prevailed. Even though the tortoises looked like a clear hit and run, until I had hard-core proof as to what had caused their deaths, I knew there was no case. If I was going to get myself busted, it ought to be for a rock-solid reason. Besides, Lizzie would kill me if I sabotaged the date so early in the evening.
“Sorry. I’ve just had a hectic day,” I replied. “Sometimes I forget there are other things in life besides business.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Brian exhaled a deep breath, as if expelling the day. “What’s say we
shelve shop talk for tonight? I think we could both use a break.”
His hand casually brushed along my thigh, causing my body to log in on the Richter scale.
“Where is it that we’re going?” I asked, trying to ignore the tremors.
Brian’s eyes danced, as if he could feel the vibration. “It’s a surprise. Let’s just say it’s a piece of old Nevada that doesn’t exist many places anymore.”
Brian pulled off the highway and steered the Jeep onto a secondary road that skimmed the Arizona border. By now the surrounding landscape was black but for a slip of moon and some stars glittering as shiny as gold nuggets thrown up in the sky. Then the stars hurtled to earth, transformed into the lights of an elegant old hotel that twinkled as though on fire. We pulled into a parking lot filled with pickups and vans.
“You know, you’re right,” Brian said. “You do look tense. We need to do something about that before we sit down to dinner.” His eyes gleamed in the dark, luminescent as twin moons.
“Just what did you have in mind?” I asked, my pulse liquid white lightning, leery of what the answer might be.
“Turn around and face the window,” Brian said softly.
I didn’t move a muscle, choosing instead to study the moonlight at play along the contours of his face.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He whispered the challenge.
Stars glimmered inside my body, raising the temperature of my blood to over a hundred degrees.
“Not one damn bit,” I evenly replied.
I slowly turned away from him, my body issuing one set of commands even as my mind screamed another. His hands slid onto my shoulders and I nearly jumped out of my dress.
Tortoise Soup (Rachel Porter Mysteries) Page 13
