Arouse Suspicion

by Maureen McKade

  "I wonder what they were looking for," Nick said, standing in the middle of the living room.

  Confused, Danni glanced at him. "What?"

  Nick motioned to the newspapers, magazines, and pieces of mail scattered across the sofa, dishes lying on the kitchen counters, and the piles of clothes on the living room floor. "Look at the mess. Whoever trashed my place obviously did the same to yours."

  Danni's face burned. "Not exactly."

  Nick's quizzical expression would've made her chuckle if she weren't so embarrassed.

  "This is what it looked like when I left yesterday morning," she muttered, looking everywhere but at him.

  So she wasn't the poster child for Neat Freaks Anonymous. Why did she care what he thought about her house-cleaning abilities anyhow?

  Nick stared at her like she'd just announced she was a mass murderer. "You actually live in this?"

  Danni surreptitiously nudged a pair of black lacy underwear lying on the floor beneath a blue T-shirt. "It's not usually this bad. I was in the middle of sorting my clothes so I could do the laundry when—" She broke off, irritated with herself. "Look, I don't have to explain anything to you. I can do whatever I please in the privacy of my own home."

  Nick only grunted, which might have meant he agreed. Or it might have meant he thought she was Oscar Madison's female counterpart. Either way, she didn't care... much. A woman's home was her castle.

  "You know what this means?" Danni asked.

  "You don't have any clean clothes?" Nick's expression oozed innocence, but his eyes twinkled.

  Danni glared at him; then she remembered what she was about to say. Her exasperation fled, replaced by apprehension. "It means you're the one they're after, not me."

  Nick turned away. "I know."

  Troubled more than she cared to admit, Danni wandered into her kitchen and began to move the dirty dishes from the countertop to the dishwasher. She always thought better when she had something to occupy her hands, and she had plenty to think about. The most important was Nick's welfare. He'd stirred up a hornet's nest, and these hornets didn't just sting—their venom was deadly.

  Since she liked Nick more than she should, it made the situation even more difficult. It wasn't every day a woman got up close and personal with a boy she'd had a crush on fifteen years ago. Little Danni Hawkins had both despised and envied seventeen-year-old Rocky. Adolescent hormones and father issues had confused the hell out of her then. But it seemed grown-up hormones were still doing a number on her.

  "Do you want me to do anything?" Nick asked from directly behind her.

  Startled, Danni swung around. She wasn't a small girl—not with sturdy Irish bones and muscles honed from hours at the gym and self-defense techniques—but Nick's solid physique and broad shoulders made her feel like a sapling in the shade of a towering oak tree. It was both comforting and disconcerting.

  She raised her head to meet his eyes. "Like what?"

  Nick shrugged. "Do your laundry?"

  Danni crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. "What would you do if I said yes?"

  "I'd ask where you kept your laundry soap."

  He sounded serious, which only confused Danni more. She was accustomed to figuring people out within five minutes of meeting them, but Nick defied her intuition. Or maybe old feelings were mixing with new, clouding her judgment.

  She suddenly realized Nick was waiting for an answer. "Uh, no, that's okay. I'll take care of it later."

  "Suit yourself."

  He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing Danni's attention to his hips. The man definitely filled a pair of jeans nicely. Irritated by her wayward thoughts, she jerked her attention back to his face, but not soon enough.

  Nick grinned knowingly, and Danni held her breath, expecting some lascivious comment. Instead, he picked up a dirty plate and glass from the counter and piled them in the dishwasher.

  "If you want, we can stay here instead of your dad's place," Nick suggested, continuing to clear the counter-tops.

  The offer was tempting. There were emotional land mines in the house where she'd been raised, not to mention it was the place her father had died. She glanced at Nick, suddenly noticing how small the kitchen—hell, her whole apartment—was. Being in such close proximity to Nick Sirocco when night fell was not a good idea.

  "We've got more room at my Dad's," she said. "And a yard for Gus."

  Nick shrugged. "Suit yourself. If we're going to be there, why don't you put your dirty clothes in a basket and wash them at your dad's? We might be there awhile, and you'll need some clothes."

  Startled, Danni pushed away from the counter and headed toward the living room. "Good idea."

  "And don't forget those little black panties," Nick called.

  Danni spun around and found him grinning like a cat that found the entire pitcher of cream. For the second time in less than ten minutes, her face flamed with embarrassment. Unable to come up with a snappy retort, she harrumphed and hurried to carry out her task... before he spotted her white lace thong, too.

  Wilhelmina Warner fanned the stack of explicit photos across Danni's desk. "Willy told me a customer hit his head with a car door." The woman glared at the pictures as if everything was their fault. "I'm going to string him up by his balls."

  Danni glanced at Nick, who sat in the back of her office. He caught her gaze and crossed his legs, then shuddered melodramatically. She coughed to stifle a rising chuckle.

  "Better yet, I'll hire one of them Sopranos to take him out," Mrs. Warner continued ranting. "Maybe leave a horse head in his bed like they did in that movie—what was it?"

  "The Godfather," Danni supplied. She kept her clasped hands resting on her desk, keeping her amusement hidden behind a calm, professional mask. "Mrs. Warner, it is against the law to hire someone to commit murder, and if you continue to talk of doing so, I'll be obligated by law to report you to the police."

  Wilhelmina snapped her mouth shut and looked like a thirteen-year-old who had been told she couldn't hang out with her friends at the mall. Her chin quivered.

  Stifling a sigh, Danni reached for the tissue box behind her and passed it across the desk to the woman. She'd had more than her share of tawdry cases, and each one followed the same pattern when the truth was revealed: anger, tears, then depression. It didn't matter if the client was male or female, each reacted the same. Just like grief, except for the denial stage. Danni provided the undeniable proof. She only wished she could offer some morsel of comfort.

  By habit, she picked up a paper clip and proceeded to unbend it. She unbent another while Wilhelmina dabbed at her mascara-streaming eyes and cringed when the woman blew her nose. It sounded like a party noisemaker reject.

  "Why? After giving that worm thirty-two years, why would he do this to me?" Mrs. Warner gazed at her with wounded eyes, obviously wanting Danni to give her an answer she could accept.

  Danni fumbled around for some well-meaning platitude but came up empty. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Warner, but I don't know." She shrugged. "Why do men do anything?"

  She tossed another straight paper clip with more force than necessary onto her desk and glanced at Nick, who sat quietly in a corner. She'd told her client that he was a writer researching his next book, and the fifty-something woman had reluctantly agreed to let him observe.

  "Maybe he was bored," Nick suddenly said.

  Danni tensed and aimed a glare at him. The deal was that he could stay for the meeting but was to remain silent. She should've known that was beyond his abilities.

  "Now—" Danni began.

  Mrs. Warner turned in her chair to peer at Nick. "What do you mean?"

  Nick came to perch on a corner of Danni's desk. Danni felt the urge to give his nice-looking backside a poke with her letter opener.

  "Your husband sells used cars day in and day out. Maybe he just wanted some excitement in his life," Nick said.

  Mrs. Warner's double chin quivered again. "I-I've never
refused him."

  Danni wanted to bury her face in her hands. She could live without knowing any more sexual exploits of Willy and his wonder wurst.

  "When was the last time you tried something different? Have you ever told him your fantasies?" Nick asked.

  Feathers and handcuffs flitted through Danni's mind, jolting her libido. She tried to concentrate on her exasperation at Nick for playing sex counselor, but the pictures his question conjured—especially when he was starring in her fantasy—made it nearly impossible to focus.

  Mrs. Warner's gaze turned inward even as her plump cheeks reddened. "But I thought Willy loved me."

  "I'm certain he does." Nick spoke with so much certainty that Danni almost believed him. "Do you still love your husband?"

  Mrs. Warner glanced at the pictures in her hands, and a tear rolled down her face. "After seeing these, I shouldn't, but I just can't help myself. Yes, I love him, but how can I compete with that?" She pointed at a picture of the spread-eagled Bambi.

  "You don't have to compete. You're married to him. Your husband has clearly made a serious error in judgment, but that doesn't have to mean your marriage is over."

  Mrs. Warner raised moisture-filled eyes. "What can I do?"

  Danni cleared her throat.

  He ignored her.

  What else is new?

  "Buy something sexy," Nick replied. "When your husband comes home from work, pretend it's your first time together, and give him an evening he won't forget."

  His voice had dropped to a low, seductive tone that sent a shiver down Danni's spine, but this wasn't about him or her. And he had no right sticking up for some two-timing twit.

  "He cheated on you, Mrs. Warner," she reminded her client. "He's the one who should be making it up to you. Five minutes ago, you were ready to string him up by a sensitive part of his anatomy."

  "We've been together for over half my life. I have to try," Mrs. Warner said.

  Danni wanted to scream in frustration. Nobody should have to put up with being treated like pond scum. She sighed. "It's up to you, Mrs. Warner. I did what you hired me to do."

  Mrs. Warner stuffed the incriminating pictures back in the brown envelope and stood. She lifted her chin. "Thank you, Ms. Hawkins. At least I know what I'm up against now." She turned to Nick, and her stern expression softened. "And thank you for your advice, Mr. Sirocco."

  "My pleasure, Mrs. Warner." Nick shook her plump hand. "I hope you're able to work things out."

  "Me, too," she said wistfully.

  Danni escorted her client out, then returned and closed the door behind her. She propped her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "What the hell was that about?"

  Nick frowned. "What?"

  "Do you see a sign anywhere—anywhere—in this office that says Marriage Counselor?"

  He crossed his arms. "She doesn't want a divorce."

  Danni gave herself a shake, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "And you know this how? Did she tell you?" She feigned surprise. "But how could she have? I was with you the entire time."

  "She's been married to the guy for over thirty years. She doesn't want to throw that away without a fight, and I don't blame her."

  "Dammit, Nick, when people break their marriage vows, they don't deserve forgiveness. They'll never change."

  Nick studied her, and Danni had the insane urge to escape his keen gaze. What was he seeing?

  "Is that what happened with your mother?" he asked, his tone and expression surprisingly gentle.

  The air gushed from Danni's lungs, and her heart raced. The room dipped in and out of focus, until all she could see was the past.

  "Go to your room, Danielle," Daddy ordered.

  Six-year-old Danni pouted, but when Mommy glared at her, she skipped out of the living room and up the stairs. Only she didn't go to her room. She sat at the top of the stairs, where her mommy and daddy couldn't see her. But Danni could hear them.

  "So who were you sleeping with this time, Glenda?"

  Daddy's voice boomed, and Danni shrank back but couldn't stop listening.

  "As if you care. You'd rather work eighteen hours a day than come home and take responsibility for your own family." Mommy sounded mad.

  "If I didn't have that job you hate so much, you wouldn't be able to afford your fancy clothes and fancy fingernails."

  Danni stuck her thumb in her mouth, not caring that she was a big girl now and wasn't supposed to do that anymore. She had never heard Daddy and Mommy yell at each other before, and Danni was scared.

  "If you weren't so tired every night, I wouldn't have to go out and find someone who treats me like a woman."

  "How many men have you been with?"

  "Ten or twelve. Who keeps count?"

  Danni heard a funny sound, like when Mommy would slap her face, but a lot louder.

  "I bet you feel like a real man now, don't you?" Mommy said, her voice shaking.

  "Goddammit! I've put up with more than any other man would have. Get out!"

  A tiny sob made it up Danni's throat, but the thumb in her mouth prevented it from escaping. There was the sound of the door opening and slamming, then silence.

  Scary silence.

  Danni rolled onto her side and curled into a tight ball.

  "Danni, did you hear me?"

  She shook herself free of the vivid flashback and found Nick's hands on her arms, his worried face close to hers. "Wh-what?"

  "Are you all right? You're white as a sheet," Nick said.

  Danni's mouth felt like ashes, and her head pounded. "I'm fine. I'm just getting a headache." It wasn't exactly a lie. It just wasn't the entire truth.

  It was clear by the clenching of his jaw that Nick didn't believe her, but he didn't press.

  Danni moved around him to her desk and sat down, grateful that her trembling legs didn't have to support her any longer. She'd carried only vague memories of the night her mother had left.

  What had triggered that repressed memory?

  It must've been a combination of the adultery case and Nick's quiet question. At some level, Danni had known her mother had been unfaithful, which probably accounted for her wariness of commitments. But she never knew her father had kicked her mother out of the house. She'd always believed her mother had simply abandoned them.

  "Is there anything else you need to do here?" Nick asked.

  She'd almost forgotten he was in the room. "I-I don't think so. I'll check with Cathy to be sure, though." Instead of walking out to the receptionist's desk, she picked up her phone and punched the intercom. "When is my next appointment, Cathy?"

  "Nothing until Monday at ten a.m.," the receptionist replied. "Is Mrs. Warner's case closed?"

  "Yes. Go ahead and send her the final bill." She placed the phone back in its cradle, feeling somewhat calmer. She glanced at Nick, who'd sat down in the chair Mrs. Warner had occupied. "Nothing until Monday."

  "That gives us five days to concentrate on Paddy's and Matt Arbor's deaths."

  Danni swallowed the acid in her throat and focused on Nick's words. "We should talk to Matt's parents."

  "His mother. From what he told me, his mom never married his father. In fact, I don't think he even knew who he was."

  Danni wasn't surprised. She pushed herself upright and was relieved when her knees didn't buckle, although her head was throbbing. "Let's go talk to her now. Maybe she can tell us who he hung out with."

  "Maybe we should go back to the house so you can lie down." He paused. "You've had a rough week."

  She glared at him, irrational anger catching her off guard. "I've survived over twenty years without a mother. I don't need one now."

  Nick held up his hands, palms out. "I was only trying to help."

  "Don't."

  She scowled at the straightened paper clips on her desk and swept them into the wastebasket impatiently. After ensuring her desk drawers were locked, she led the way out of her office. She stopped by Cathy's desk. "Do you have Matt Arbor's addres
s?"

  "I can get it." The administrative assistant typed in some commands on her computer. She scribbled an address on a Post-It note and handed it to Danni. "What're you going to do?"

  "Talk to his mother."

  Cathy's pixie face was somber. "He had an appointment with Beth the day before he died."

  "What was it about?" Nick asked.

  With unusual seriousness, Cathy answered, "He wanted to cut a deal."

  "Beth told me," Danni said. "Do you know if he went into any details?"

  "I don't think so, but you should probably talk to Beth."

  Danni pointed at her closed door. "Does she have a client?"

  Cathy nodded apologetically. "It's going to be at least an hour, but you can wait if you want."

  Danni caught Nick's eye, but he was strangely noncommittal. She shrugged and said to Cathy, "We'll talk to her tomorrow. When is she free?"

  "In the morning. Her first appointment is at eleven."

  "Pencil me in for ten." Danni rubbed her brow, hoping that she wasn't getting one of her rare migraines. "We're going to talk to Matt's mother."

  She was aware of a pair of identical worried glances but didn't acknowledge them. Although she was accustomed to Cathy's mother-henning, she wasn't used to having anyone else—especially this man—care about her well-being.

  "It can wait until tomorrow," Nick said.

  She shook her head, then realized what a dumb move that was as the ache behind her eyes increased. With any luck, the migraine would hold off a few hours, until she'd interviewed Ms. Arbor, as well as Levin and Tygard at the station.

  After that, she could collapse for the night and her usual nightmare would give her a respite.

  Chapter Eight

  Nick followed Danni into an apartment building that had graffiti liberally splashed across its tired brick facade. The grease-stained walls and crumbling plaster in the entrance, as well as the smell of stale cigarettes, dirty diapers, and rotting garbage, reminded him too much of the place where he'd grown up. He'd worked hard to shed his past, but it still lurked within him, eager to emerge when waylaid by such powerful sensory triggers.