Tangled Up in You

by Rachel Gibson

  “Maybe she just planned to frighten them with the gun. Maybe she wanted to scare them and things got carried away.”

  That was usually the excuse, but rarely the case. “Is that what you believe?”

  “Yes. Maybe she found them naked together.”

  “They were both clothed. Alice was behind the bar and your father was in front of it. They were at least ten feet apart.”

  “Oh.” She bit her thumbnail. “I still think she went there to scare Dad and things got out of control.”

  “You think that, but you don’t know.”

  Meg dropped her hand and stood. “My mother loved my father. I just don’t think she went there with the intention of killing anyone.” She put her purse over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get home.”

  Maddie stood. “Well, thanks for your help,” she said and walked Meg to the door. “I appreciate it.”

  “If I can clear anything up, give me a call.”

  “I will.” After Meg left, Maddie moved into the living room and turned off the tape. She felt sorry for Meg. She truly did. Meg was a victim of the past just like she was, but Meg was older than both Mick and Maddie and recalled more of that horrible night. Meg also recalled more than she was willing to talk about too. More than she wanted Maddie to know, but that was okay—for now. Maddie had written the first chapter of the book but had stopped to work on the timeline. When she got the sequence of—

  “Meow.”

  Maddie leaned her head back. “For the love of God.” She moved to the door and look down at the kitten on the other side. “Go away.”

  “Meow.”

  She pulled the cord to her vertical blinds and turned them so that she could no longer see the annoying cat. She moved into the kitchen and made a low-carb dinner. She ate in front of the television with the sound turned way up. After dinner, she took a leisurely bath and scrubbed her skin with a vanilla body scrub. A white jar of Marshmallow Fluff body butter sat on the counter next to a towel. She’d received it in the mail at her house in Boise yesterday and had tossed it into her purse.

  Lord, had it only been yesterday that she’d met with Trina, had a bridesmaid fitting, and had sex with Mick? She unplugged the bathtub drain and stood. She’d been a busy girl.

  Maddie dried herself, then rubbed the creamy lotion into her skin. She pulled on her striped pajama pants and pink T-shirt, then moved to the living room and picked up the tape recorder from the coffee table where it still sat. A cell phone commercial blared from the televison and she hit the off button on the remote control. She wanted to replay Meg’s recollections of the evening her mother had killed two people and then herself.

  “Meow.”

  “Damn it!” She pulled the cord to the blinds and there, sitting like a white snowball in the darkening shadows of evening, sat her tormenter. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the kitten through the glass. “You have gotten on my last nerve.”

  “Meow.”

  How such a racket could come from such a tiny mouth was beyond Maddie. “Go away!” As if it understood, the kitten stood, walked around in a circle, then sat in the same exact spot.

  “Meow.”

  “I’ve had it.” Maddie went to the laundry room, shoved her arms into a jean jacket, then stomped across the floor to the French doors. She threw them open and scooped up the kitten. The kitten was so small its entire torso fit in one hand. “You probably have fleas or ringworm,” she said.

  “Meow.”

  She held the kitten out at arm’s length. “The last thing I need is a big-headed inbred cat.”

  “Meow.”

  “Shh. I’m going to find you a good home.” The dang kitten started to purr like they were going to be friends or something. As quietly as possible, she moved down the steps and tiptoed across the cold grass to the Allegrezzas’ yard. A light in the kitchen burned and through the sliding glass door, she watched Louie make a sandwich. “You’re going to love these people,” she whispered.

  “Meow.”

  “Really. They have a kid, and kids love kittens. Act cute and you’re in.” She set it on the deck, then ran like hell back to her house. As if she were escaping a demon, she closed the door, locked it, and shut the blinds. She sat on the couch and leaned her head back. Quiet. Thank God. She closed her eyes and told herself she’d just performed a very good deed. She could have chased it off by throwing something at it. Little Pete Allegrezza was a nice kid. He probably wanted a cat and would give it a good home. It obviously hadn’t eaten in a while and Louie would no doubt hear it and feed it a hunk of lunch meat. Maddie was practically a friggin’ saint.

  “Meow.”

  “Are you shitting me?” She sat up and opened her eyes.

  “Meow.”

  “Fine. I tried to be nice.” She stormed into her bedroom and shoved her feet into a pair of black flip-flops. “Stupid cat.” She returned to the living room, threw open the back door, and scooped up the kitten. She held it up in front of her face and glared into its spooky eyes. “You’re too stupid to know I found you a good home.”

  “Meow.”

  This was karma. Bad karma. Definitely a payback for something she’d done. She grabbed her purse with her free hand and flipped on the outside lights by the laundry room door. Once she was outside, the transponder in her purse unlocked the car’s door. “Don’t you even think about scratching this leather,” she said as she set the cat on the passenger seat. It was Sunday night and the animal shelter was closed. So dropping off the cat was not an option. If she drove to the other side of the lake and dumped it on a doorstep over there, the damn thing would not be able to find its way back.

  She hit the start button on the gearshift. She wasn’t totally heartless. She wouldn’t dump it somewhere with a big pit bull chained in the yard. She didn’t want that kind of karma.

  She put the car into reverse and glanced over at the kitten sitting on her expensive leather seat and staring straight ahead. “

  Hasta la vista, baby.”

  “Meow.”

  Mick drove his Dodge into the parking lot of the D-Lite Grocery Store and parked in a slot a few rows from the front doors. Pulling in, he’d seen the black Mercedes parked beneath one of the lot’s bright lights. Although he’d never personally seen the car, everyone in town knew Madeline Dupree drove a black Mercedes like Batman. Within the slightly tinted windows, Mick could just see the outline of her head and face. He walked to the car and knocked on the driver’s-side window. Without a sound, the glass lowered inch by inch. The parking lot light shone into the window and suddenly he was staring into the dark brown eyes of the woman who’d wrung him out the night before.

  “Nice car,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Meow.”

  He looked down past her face to a white ball of fur in her lap. “Why, Maddie, you have a pussycat on your—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  He laughed. “When did you get a cat?”

  “It’s not mine. I hate cats.”

  “Then why’s it on your…lap?”

  “It wouldn’t go away.” She turned and looked ahead; her hands gripped the steering wheel. “I tried to find it a home across the lake. I even had a house all picked out. A nice one with yellow shutters.”

  “What happened?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was sneaking up to the porch, ready to toss the cat up there and run, but the damn thing purred and rubbed its head on my chin.” She looked up at him as a frown settled between her brows. “And here I am, thinking about all the cat food commercials on TV and wondering if I should buy Whiskas or Fancy Feast.”

  He chuckled. “What’s its name?”

  She closed her eyes and whispered, “Snowball.”

  His chuckle turned to laugher, and she opened her eyes and glared at him. “What?”

  “Snowball?”

  “It’s white.”

  “Meow.”

  “It’s so girly.”


  “This from a guy who named his poodle Princess.”

  His laugher died. “How do you know about Princess?”

  Maddie opened her car door and he stepped back. “Your sister told me.” She rolled up the window, grabbed the kitten with her free hand, and got out of the car. “And before you get all bossy, your sister showed up on my porch this afternoon and wanted to talk to me about your parents.”

  “What did she say?”

  “A lot.” She locked the door and shut it. “Mostly, though, I think she wanted me to think that growing up you were all happy as clams until Alice Jones moved to town.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “Of course not.” She shoved the kitten inside her jean jacket and hung a big purse over one shoulder. The same big purse that carried her Taser. “Especially when she let it slip that your mother set a pile of your father’s clothes on fire.”

  “Yeah. I remember that.” It was certainly no secret. “I remember the grass in the front yard didn’t grow back for a long time.” He’d probably been five at the time. A year before his mother had completely lost it.

  “And in case you’ve heard the rumor, no, there is not going to be a movie starring Colin Farrell and Angelina Jolie.”

  He’d heard the rumor and was relieved to hear it wasn’t true. “Are you wearing your pajamas?”

  The kitten poked its head out of her jacket as Maddie looked down. “I don’t think anyone will notice.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Yeah, but I was wearing pajama pants like this last night.” She looked up and a sexy little smile teased the corners of her lips. “For a little while anyway.”

  And she didn’t think they were going to have sex again. Right. “Is that you?” he asked.

  “Is what me?”

  “I smell Rice Krispies treats.” He took a step toward her and dipped his head. “Of course it’s you.”

  “That’s my Marshmallow Fluff body butter.”

  “Body butter?” Oh, God. Did she really think they wouldn’t end up in bed together again? “I’ve thought about you all day.” He put his hand on the side of her throat and pressed his fore head to hers. “Naked.” Beneath his thumb, her pulse pounded through her veins almost as hard as his beat through his body.

  “I’m back on the wagon.”

  “You’re back to being sort of, kind of, celibate?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can change your mind.” He was trying to convince a woman to be with him, something he didn’t normally do. Either they wanted to or they didn’t.

  “Not this time,” she said, although she didn’t sound particularly convinced.

  But when it came to Maddie, nothing was normal. “You love the way I kiss and touch your body. Remember?”

  “I, ahh…” she stammered.

  Normally he didn’t think and obsess about a woman all day. He didn’t wonder what she was doing. If she was working or finding dead mice or how he was going to get her naked again. “You’re already dressed for bed.” He brushed his mouth across hers and her lips parted on a little gasp. Normally he didn’t waste his time because there were others he didn’t have to try and convince. “You know you want to.”

  “Meow.”

  She took a step back and his hand dropped to his side. “I have to buy cat food.”

  Mick lowered his gaze to the white furry head poking out of Maddie’s jean jacket. That cat was pure evil.

  “Good girl, Snowball,” she said and patted her kitten’s head. She looked up at him, then turned toward the front of the store. “Watch out for him. He’s a very bad man.”

  Chapter 13

  The little collar had pink sparkles and a tiny pink bell and when Maddie had walked to the road to check her mail at around three, she’d found it in her mailbox. No note. No card. Just the collar.

  Mick was the only other person who knew about Snowball. She hadn’t told any of her friends for fear they’d all die of shock. Maddie Jones—cat owner? Impossible. She’d spent most of her life hating cats, but here she stood, pink collar in hand and staring down at a white ball of fur curled up in her office chair.

  She scooped the kitten up in both hands and brought it face level. “This is my chair,” she said. “I made you a bed.” She carried the kitten to the laundry room and set her on a folded towel inside an Amazon box. “Rule number one: I’m the boss. Number two: you can’t get on my furniture and get it all hairy.” She knelt down and placed the collar around Snowball’s neck.

  “Meow.”

  Maddie scowled.

  “Meow.”

  “Fine. You look cute.” She stood and pointed a finger in the kitten’s direction. “Rule number three: I let you in and gave you some food. That’s where it ends. I don’t like cats.” She turned on her heels and walked out of the laundry room. The tinkling of a bell followed her into the kitchen and she looked down at her feet. She sighed and pulled a local telephone book out of a drawer. She turned to the yellow pages, reached for her cell phone, and punched in the seven numbers.

  “Mort’s,” a man answered, but it wasn’t Mick.

  “Is Mick available?”

  “He usually doesn’t show up until eight.”

  “Could you give him a message for me?”

  “Let me grab a pen.” There was a pause and then, “Okay.”

  “Mick, thanks for the pink collar. Snowball.”

  “Did you say ‘Snowball?”

  “Yeah. Sign it ‘Snowball.’”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks.” Maddie disconnected and closed the phone book. At ten minutes after eight while Maddie glanced through a crime magazine, her phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Your cat called me.”

  Just the sound of Mick’s voice made her smile, which was a very bad sign. “What did she want?”

  “To thank me for her collar.”

  Maddie glanced at Snowball lying in the red chair, licking her leg and in flagrant disregard of rule number two. “She has good manners.”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Teaching Snowball which fork to use.”

  He chuckled. “When is she going to bed?”

  She flipped a page in the magazine and her gaze scanned an article about a man who’d killed three of his trophy wives. “Why?”

  “I want to see you.”

  She wanted to see him too. Bad. And that was the problem. She didn’t want to feel all happy inside just at the sound of his voice on her telephone. She didn’t want to see him in a parking lot and remember the touch of his hands and mouth. The more she saw him, thought about him, wanted him, the more their lives became entangled. “You know I can’t,” she said and flipped a few more pages.

  “Meet me at Hennessy’s and please bring your camera.”

  Her hand stilled. “Are you offering to let me take photos inside your bar?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t usually take the photos for her books, but there wouldn’t be a problem if she did.

  “I want to see you.”

  “Are you bribing me?”

  There was a pause on the line and then he asked, “Is that a problem?”

  Was it? “Only if you think I’ll have sex with you for a few photos.”

  “Honey,” he said through what sounded like a sigh of exasperation, “I wish getting you naked was that easy, but no.”

  Just because she went to Hennessy’s and took some photographs didn’t mean anyone was going to end up naked. She’d lived without sex for four years. Clearly she did have some self-control.

  “Why don’t you come here around midnight? The place will be cleared out and you can take as many pictures as you want.”

  If she went, she’d be using the undeniable attraction between them to get what she wanted.

  Just as he was using her desire to photograph the inside of the bar to get what he wanted. She wondered if her conscience should rise up and decline the tempting offer, but as had h
appened from time to time in her life when it came to her work and her scruples, her conscience was silent.

  “I’ll be there.” After she hung up the phone, she took a deep breath and held it in. Entering that bar would not be the same as every other crime scene she’d walked and explored and stood within. This was personal.

  She let out her pent-up breath. She’d viewed the crime scene photos and read the reports. Twenty-nine years after the fact would not be a problem. She’d sat across a mesh barrier from killers who told her exactly what they’d do to her body if they ever got the chance. Compared to that nightmare, walking into Hennessy’s was going to be a piece of cake. No sweat.

  Hennessy’s was painted a nondescript gray and was bigger than it looked from the outside. Inside it had two pool tables and a dance floor on either side of the long bar. In the middle, three steps led down to the sunken floor surrounded by a white railing and fitted with ten round tables.

  Hennessy’s had never had the unruly-girls-gone-bad reputation of Mort’s. It was more laid-back and was known for good drinks and music. And for a time, murder. Hennessy’s had finally lived down the latter—until a certain true crime writer had blown into town.

  Mick stood behind the bar and poured South Gin into a cocktail shaker. He glanced up at Maddie, at the light shining in her hair, picking out reddish brown strands in her ponytail. He returned his gaze to the tall clear bottle in his hand. “My great-grandfather built this bar in 1925.”

  Maddie set her camera on the bar and glanced about her. “During Prohibition?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed to the sunken middle. “That part was a restaurant dining room,” he said. “He made and sold grain alcohol out of the back.”

  Maddie looked at him through those big brown eyes that turned all warm and sexy when he kissed her neck. At the moment her eyes were a little wide, like she was seeing ghosts. “Was he ever caught?” she asked but looked about once again, her mind clearly not on his masterful attempt at conversation. When he’d opened the back door and seen her standing there, she’d looked so tense, he’d had to check his first impulse to push her against the wall and kiss the breath out of her.