“That would be the one, if you like that sort of look.”
“Oh, trust me, daddy like,” Rocco purred, then added, “No-Classy is making over Sassy, and you’re not worried?”
“It’s just a makeover.”
“Riiight. Remind me what happened the last time you left them alone together.”
“They had lunch.”
“Last time I had lunch, it didn’t involve the Our Father and rosary beads. Blessing the senator’s campaign office, my ass.”
Ace shot his partner a look. “Well, shit.” Then he whipped his truck around in the other direction, but he wasn’t too happy about going over the river and through the woods to Granny’s house.
And he sure as hell wasn’t bringing cookies.
Chapter 6
By the time Ace and Rocco knocked on the Monroes’ door, the sun had almost set. Once again, Ace hoped Cece would answer. Last time, he’d gotten lucky. The door swung open, and this time Candy stared at him with a smirk on her flawless face.
He guessed today wasn’t his lucky day.
“Why, if it isn’t Detective Hardass standing there, groveling at my door. What can I do ya for?”
“You can’t ‘do’ me for anything.”
“Dang, darlin’.” Rocco’s gaze traveled the long length of her. “You could do me any day of the week.” He grinned like a buffoon.
“In your dreams, Loverboy.”
He slapped a hand over his heart, smiling wider. “How’d you know you were in my dreams every night? Must be magic.”
Ace looked between the two of them. “You two need a room?”
“Actually—” Rocco started.
“Hardly!” Candy flat out cut him off at the knees with her ice-blue laser beams. “I don’t need magic to tell me you’re a player.”
“Magic? Who said magic?” came a raspy voice from behind Candy. “Who’s at the door, Charity?”
“Oh, shit,” Ace muttered.
“No one important, Gran.”
“Charity?” Rocco’s lips formed a shit-eating grin. “Interesting.”
“Oh, stuff it, Rockstar,” Candy said.
He touched her arm. “Rockstar, huh? I’m getting to you. Admit it.”
“Puh-lease.” She shrugged off his hand. “You know what they say: Men who are cocky don’t have much of one.”
“Would you two cut it out,” Ace huffed.
“He’s back, Kitty!” the raspy voice hackled. “Now’s your chance. It’s Satan.”
Rocco burst out laughing, and Ace smacked him on the shoulder. “Can it, Antonelli.”
“Yeah, just wait until she gets a load of you.” Candy stepped aside and crossed her arms over her small, perky, braless breasts. “This I gotta see.”
The door flew open wide, and Rocco’s shit-eating grin vanished. Granny stood with a wand in one hand and Kitty in the other. She set Kitty down, but the dog just blinked at Ace with his one eye, then trotted back into the house, whining all the way.
“It’s okay, Kitty, you’ll get him next time.” Granny hobbled behind Ace and bent low, squinting at his ass, then let out a shriek. “Still no tail! I must’ve done something wrong.” She held up her hand and counted off on her fingers. “Frog’s tongue, squirrel tail, raccoon tooth, and gunpowder,” she said.
Ace narrowed his eyes. That was the second time she had mentioned gunpowder. But then she distracted him with her next words.
“Nope, those are the right ingredients. Maybe I just need to repeat the spell.”
Oh, hell, that didn’t sound good.
She started screeching some chant over and over and over, twirling around in circles, her long, gray, frizzy curls looking as though she’d stuck that wand in a dozen light sockets. Stopping suddenly, she closed her eyes tightly, and her body stiffened.
“Jesus Christ, forget who … what the fuck is she?” Rocco said in barely more than a whisper.
But a whisper was all it took.
Granny’s eyes snapped open wide and locked onto Rocco’s, sending the fear of God into him by the looks of it, but Ace could relate. He’d been there before. Still was, every time he came in contact with the nutcase.
“Satan’s sidekick! Straight to the depths of hell with you. Be gone!” She held up her wand and ran toward Rocco, her black cape billowing out behind her.
Rocco let out a scream—an actual high-pitched scream, bolting for the truck as though the crazy old crone were a rabid dog. Jumping inside, he slammed and locked the doors. Granny circled the truck, banging on the hood, casting chant after chant.
Rocco dialed Ace’s cell. “Get the hell in here, man. I’m calling for backup.”
“No need. You just cover me by keeping Granny occupied. And try not to let her dent my truck. Think you can handle that?”
“As long as she stays out there.” Rocco glanced at Candy, still standing in the doorway, and tried for a smooth smile, then slicked back the strand of hair that had flopped forward in his mad dash to save his ass. “Hey, yo, man. I gotcha covered.” He cleared his throat. “Tell Candy I’ll call her.”
Ace looked at Candy, who must have heard Rocco through the phone because she stuck her finger in her mouth and made a gagging noise. “I’m not a betting man, but I’m guessing from the look she’s giving you, that ship has sailed. Sorry, buddy.” Ace flipped his phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket. “Listen, I didn’t come to argue with you; I came to talk to your sister.”
“She’s not here.”
“What do you mean, she’s not here?”
“Don’t get all snippy with me. You’re the one who’s supposed to be nun-sitting.” She tucked her sleek, brown bob behind her ears.
“And you’re the one who told me to beat it because you were giving her a makeover.”
“Well, I finished early.”
“Do you have any idea where she went?”
Candy stared at him for a long moment and then finally shrugged. “She said something about going for a drive in the country.”
“And you let her go? Don’t you know she could be in real danger? There’s still a killer on the loose, and your sister has information that could lead us to that person. How could you let her go alone?”
“Uh, hello, I’m not stupid. I didn’t let her do anything. First off, she’s a grown woman. She makes her own decisions. And second, she told me she was going with you,” Candy growled. A second later, she groaned as she slapped the palm of her hand on her forehead. “If she didn’t go with you, then she’s driving Gran’s Witchmobile. Cece hasn’t driven a car in ten years. She’ll be lucky if that old black station wagon gets her there.”
“Do you have any idea what building out in the country she might be talking about?”
“How would I know? You’re the cop.”
Ace remembered Sloan’s widow saying they had an old barn in the country. Damn! Knowing Cece, she probably planned to create her new charitable foundation in the senator’s name because she blamed herself for his death. “Don’t worry. I think I know where she is.”
“You’d better, because if anything happens to my sister, Granny will be the least of your worries.”
Ace nodded once and then headed for his truck. Cece had no business being out there, especially now that it was getting dark. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. When he saw her again, he planned to wring her neck, but first he had to rescue Rocco. Maybe he’d make the smart-ass sweat a little more with the crazy old witch lady.
Nah. Even he wasn’t that cruel.
***
Thirty minutes later, after dropping his traumatized partner off at the station, Ace used his GPS system to find the farm in question. He thought a car was following him, but he managed to ditch it before maneuvering his truck back on track. “Out in the country” didn’t begin to describe where this place was located. Out in Podunk was more like it.
Rounding a corner, he came upon what had to be the barn on some unused farmland. Probably belonged to Sloan’s fa
mily for generations, and he’d just let it sit empty.
Cece was crazy if she thought the town would go for setting up a charity way out here. Her story didn’t ring true. His gut told him she’d found something the cops had missed in the senator’s campaign office, but like with the confessional thing, she wasn’t talking.
“What the hell?” He pulled his truck to a stop next to a black hunk of junk with a dent in the side and a missing taillight. This had to be Granny’s Witchmobile. He grunted. Candy was right. Cece obviously hadn’t driven in years. She’d parked the sucker right in the middle of a ditch.
Mental order: Never let her touch your truck.
He scanned the area through the darkening sky but didn’t see anything amiss, and there were no new tire tracks other than hers. Still, someone was out there. He’d stake his career on it. Damn, he had been so sure he’d lost whoever had been following him. He must be losing his touch. Getting out of the truck, he shoved his keys in his sports coat pocket and made his way to the front of the barn to peek inside.
Jesus, what the hell was she doing?
There she was on her goddamn hands and knees again, crawling around behind empty crates and boxes, tossing items aside, looking for Lord knows what. The place was empty, but it was obvious something had been there recently. Someone had cleaned it out in a hurry by the looks of it, but what the hell could have been stored in there? And could it have anything to do with the mayor possibly blackmailing the senator’s father?
Cece distracted him by making enough racket to draw a whole arsenal of bad guys—that was for damn sure. She struggled to her feet and dusted off her hands. He squinted to make out her form as dusk settled around them, and his groin instantly tightened.
“Christ almighty, what the hell did she do to you?” he boomed out louder than he’d intended. He strolled in and flicked on the lights. Coming to a stop right behind her, he had to get a better look.
“Eeeeek!” Cece whirled around on platform shoes, her big hat flopping about as her feet tangled and arms windmilled.
Ace reached out to steady her, his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders, and it somehow felt right. He frowned.
“You scared me. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I followed you,” he muttered, still in shock from seeing her like this. “New shoes?” was the safest thing he could think to comment on.
“Oh, these silly things?” She dropped her hands, taking a step back until his palms—which were dangerously close to touching her breasts—fell away. “The shoes and clothes are Charity’s,” she said, and he balled his hands into fists to keep from doing something stupid. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her no, though as you can see, we’re not even close to being the same size.”
Oh, he could see, all right. Candy’s “skinny” jeans were more like painted on as they clung to Cece’s form, and her skin-tight shirt pushed Cece’s generous breasts over the top. He had to admit, he didn’t mind Candy’s taste in clothes at the moment, but then he remembered Cece was a nun. Ex or otherwise, it was all the same to him. His appreciative thoughts cooled in an instant.
“Right, well, it does look kinda hard to move in that getup.” His gaze traveled back to Cece’s face, and he winced. Her natural beauty had been covered up with heavy makeup, and her hair … he let out a gasp.
Another frigging gasp. For chrissake.
Where had her hair gone? Horror filled him at the thought that she’d let her sister chop off her curls. Nun or not, she still had the best hair he’d ever seen on a woman, and it would be a damn shame if she’d let her insane sister cut it off.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Cece asked.
“I’m fine.” He stroked his whiskers, reminding himself he needed a shave, as he tried to act nonchalant. “Did you, um, cut your hair?”
“Oh, that? No.” She reached up and pulled off the big, floppy hat she wore. The long glorious strands fell to her hourglass waist once more. “Why?” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes.
“Oh.” He stifled a sigh of relief and rocked on the balls of his boots, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “No reason. Just curious.”
“I didn’t want it to get dirty while I was …” Her gaze met his, and her wide eyes looked nervous. Nervous and guilty. “While I was praying, that is.”
“Praying?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m supposed to believe you came all the way out here to pray? Not buying it, Sister. You’re up to something, and I’m going to find out what.”
“Don’t be silly.” She marched over to her tote bag, her ankles wobbling all the way, then pulled out her prayer book and rosary beads again. “See?”
“That might have worked once, but I’m no fool. Start talking. What’s the real reason you’re here, and it better not be what I think it is.”
“I have no idea what you’re getting at. I was simply trying to think of a way to make the senator’s name live on forever. When I found out he owned an old barn he never used, I figured I’d better see what it was like before I approached his wife. She’s not too happy with me these days, so I thought this might be a way to form a new bond of peace between us.”
“And what kind of building were you thinking of making it into, exactly?”
Her eyes surveyed the room and then lit up. “A boys’ and girls’ club.”
“A place for city kids way out in Podunk? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
“Well, I can’t worry about what makes sense to you, Detective. I’m on a mission.”
“Oh, I get that. It’s the mission you’re on I’m not so sure about.” He poked her collarbone.
She sucked in a breath. “How dare you.”
“How dare you lie to me!” he retorted. She lowered her eyes, just like a guilty person would. “When I came in, you were crawling around on the floor looking for something.” He leaned way down until their noses almost touched. “I want to know what.”
She stepped back, squared her shoulders, and walked away. Pulling out a small bottle of water, she said, “I told you, I was blessing this place. I couldn’t possibly send children in here without saying a prayer or two.”
“Right. What is that stuff, anyway?” He followed her.
“Um, well, it’s … holy water.” She smiled brightly. Too brightly. “Yes, you heard me right.” She nodded once. “Holy water.”
Looked like ordinary bottled water to him. “You’d better only be praying. Because if I find out you were doing something else, I’d be forced to haul your ‘holy’ ass off to jail for your own safety.”
She opened the water, sprinkling it about the room as she recited some prayer. When she finished, she turned to him and said, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not in any danger.” She took a step back before losing her footing and falling to the floor.
Something whizzed by Ace’s ear. His cop instinct kicked in, and he dove on top of the stubborn little nun, knocking the wind out of her. Seconds before, a thud had splintered the wood behind where her head would have been if it weren’t for those ridiculous shoes. Another second later, a loud boom rang out through the night.
“Wh–What was that?” she wheezed, her face pale as the moon streamed in through the window.
Ace’s heart raced right along with hers. His face a mere inch from hers, he was unable to disguise his concern as he stared down into her frightened eyes. Maybe now she would finally listen to him. “Put it this way,” he said when he found his voice. “It sure as shit wasn’t the mechanic’s car.”
***
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Sinned in ways I never imagined. Eavesdropping and gossiping and stripping, Oh my! Yes, you heard me right, Father. Actual stripping. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. All in the name of justice, mind you, but trust me, it won’t be pretty. I feel like Dorothy lost in Oz, completely out of my element, as I flounder about in search of a way home. Unfortunately, home as I knew it no longer exists.
Cece opened the front door to her counseling clinic, and the aromas of basil, oregano, and garlic welcomed her. At least something did, because her sister sure didn’t.
“Where have you been?” Candy grilled her, brushing spices off her apron.
“What are you doing?” Cece asked.
“I’m knitting you a sweater.” Candy whacked the wooden spoon she held on the kitchen counter. “What in the hell do you think I’m doing?”
“Well, where’d you get all those ingredients,” Cece asked.
“Hel-LO, you had it all in the kitchen. Ya know, the kitchen, where you can put stuff with other stuff and make a meal that doesn’t say ‘Remove film from tray’?”
“Charity, how on earth did you get in here?” Cece walked inside, followed closely by her ever-present shadow, the good detective.
“Oh, please. A child could have broken into this dump.” Candy stirred the sauce.
“Told you to get those locks changed.” Ace pushed his way past Cece and proceeded to do a sweep of her place.
After someone had taken a real shot at Cece, he had sent his partner to check out the area while he’d whisked her away to safety. It was going to be harder than ever to lose Ace the next time she went “snooping.” And there would be a next time. She had to admit, getting shot at had been quite terrifying, but she had to be strong. Her guilt would never ease if she didn’t help the senator. She hadn’t found anything at that old barn—other than trouble—which meant she needed to follow up her only other lead.
The senator’s little black book.
“I told you, I went for a drive in the country,” Cece answered her sister. She hung up her coat and kicked off those platform shoes. “And thank you for making dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”
“You gotta eat, right?” Candy dropped some pasta in a pot of boiling water. “As far as your little drive into the country goes, you told me Jacko here would be with you.” Candy paused to plop a hand on her hip. “When I found out he wasn’t with you, I was worried sick.”
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
Kicking the Habit Page 8
