Harley smiled. “I’m not talking. I’m like a reporter. I can’t divulge my sources.”
“You’re ‘not talking’ yourself right into jail time.”
“But I’m not doing anything illegal. Don’t be so grumpy. You’re not at all cooperative these days. Trouble at home? Love life gone bad?”
“Shut up.” Bobby leaned back in his chair and locked his hands behind his head. He had dark brown eyes that could be warm with humor or black with anger, and right now they were somewhere between those two shades. This conversation could go either way quickly.
“I think Cami’s avoiding me,” she said. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls today.”
“It’s about time one of you showed some good sense.”
“I kinda thought you might have something to do with that. Did you tell her to avoid me?”
“Since when has any woman ever paid attention to anything a man ever says? That’d be like expecting the Mississippi to run backward.”
“It did once, you know,” Harley said reflectively. “Back in the early 1800s when there was an earthquake—oh, never mind. I see that doesn’t cheer you up.”
“Harley—and I say this in friendship—go away. While you still can. Before I have to arrest you on obstruction or any other charge that applies. Go home. Lock your doors, stay inside and don’t come out for any reason whatsoever.”
“But what about my stalker?”
“Apparently he has better sense than you do. He’s avoiding you.”
“But he was outside my apartment today. I saw him. Did you talk to Morgan?”
“Twice. He confirmed you were assaulted. Doesn’t that give you a hint that it’d be safer for you to stay home?”
“Where my stalker can get me? Please. He knows where I live. He followed us last night to the club and grabbed me in a public place. If he’s ballsy enough to do that, just think what he’d do if he caught me by myself.”
“Then stay with your parents.”
“You think I’ll be safer with them?”
Bobby grinned, and Harley felt a little better when he said, “Sorry. Temporary insanity. Diva would probably invite him in for herbal tea and a tarot reading.”
“Maybe she could cleanse his aura while she’s at it.”
“Some things just don’t change much. Okay. I see your point. But you’ve got to know it isn’t safe for you to be taking risks. Look, you can stay at my apartment if you want.”
“Is Angel still there?”
“No. Not as much.”
Aha. Trouble on the home front. Well, Bobby never stayed with one woman for very long. It was bound to end like all the others, with everything short of a restraining order being filed and lots of verbal fireworks. That good, hot Italian blood made for high drama at times. Exciting and exhausting.
“Maybe I should go stay with Cami for a night or two,” she said just to see what he’d say about Cami, but to her surprise he nodded.
“Yeah, that might be best. At least she’ll listen to reason.”
“Cami’s easily swayed. I’m sure I can convince her to cooperate. Now look, I’ve given you all this good information about Cheríe Saucier and Harry Gordon, and you won’t even follow up on it. Why won’t you get a warrant to search Anna Plotz Merritt’s house?”
“Dammit, Harley.” Bobby had been leaning back in his chair, balanced on the two rear legs, and now he abruptly leaned forward so that the chair slammed down with a loud smack. “If you hadn’t gone out there and meddled where you shouldn’t, we just might have been able to get enough evidence together to justify a search warrant. You don’t really think that box is still going to be there when we do get a warrant, do you? Not if it’s important. No doubt, Anna Merritt is on the phone right now with her sister, and they’re buying two airline tickets to Greece.”
“Then you’d better hurry. That box is important. I don’t know why or how, it just is.”
Bobby stared at her. “When I wind up arresting you, take an insanity plea. No one will be able to prove otherwise.”
“You can be so melodramatic. Look, I got the impression Anna didn’t even know the box was there, so she doesn’t know what she has, if she has anything. But obviously her sister thought that box was important enough to take it out there and leave it. I’ll bet anything it ties in somehow.”
“We may never know, now that you’ve warned her.”
“I can see where that’d be a problem.”
“Somehow, that’s not as gratifying as it should be. Will you just stay out of this?”
“What about all the stuff Harry smuggled into the shop? Where is it now? Who bought it? And where’s the money they had to make off it?” she asked.
Bobby scowled. “What, do you really think the MPD is stupid? And do you really think I intend to tell you anything? If you’d read the papers, you’d know there were artifacts found suspected of being stolen from museums in the UK as well as Mayan and Egyptian ruins. That’s all I’m going to tell you and all you need to know.”
“One more question. Was all of that found in Aunt Darcy’s basement? Never mind. I see I’m right. So you’re trying to clear her? I thought she’d been arrested.”
“Let’s just say she’s in protective custody. Where you should be.”
She stood up quickly. “No thanks. As I’ve said before, those orange jumpsuits aren’t very flattering.”
“It might be an improvement. What’s that on your shirt?”
Harley looked down. Something brown and gooey was stuck to the front of the tee shirt she’d borrowed from Eric. She pulled out the shirttail to look at it, then realized what it was and said, “Dammit! Goose shit.”
“What?”
She looked up at Bobby. “Be careful when you go to Atoka. There’s a killer goose on the loose.”
Something flickered in Bobby’s eyes and she prudently left before he could act on it. There were times Bobby went pure cop on her and forgot all about their long friendship.
Cami was home when Harley arrived.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Harley asked when Cami opened the front door. “I’ve tried to call you all morning.”
“I just got here. I do work, y’know.”
“Oh yeah. I forget about that. You keep weird hours.”
“Split shifts. Not so bad. I can come home and tend to my animals during the day, and still get home fairly early at night. What’s up?”
“I need a clean shirt and I can’t go home. Can I borrow one?”
“Sure. Do I want to know why you can’t go home?”
Cami hopped over the baby gate she used to keep her dogs in the den, and Harley followed more slowly. “Not really. Did you get more cats?”
“No, just traded a few. Some of them got adopted this week.”
Harley looked around the den as they passed through on the way to Cami’s bedroom, where cats in various stages of serious sleeping were draped on the back of couches, chairs, and curled up in furry balls on the floor. None of them seemed to care about the dogs, and the dogs were smart enough not to push it.
“Which ones got adopted?” It wasn’t that she really wanted to know. It was just idle conversation while she tried to think of a way to tell Cami that she needed to stay for a while because she was being stalked by a possible killer.
“Winky, Sprite, and Doodles. The calico, tabby, and tuxedo.”
“I have no idea what you just said. Have you learned a foreign language?”
Cami grinned and tossed a clean tee shirt at her. “Yep. I speak Cat. Now why are you really here?”
“I always knew you were smart. I have goose shit on my shirt and need a clean one. Well, it’s really Eric’s tee shirt, but I still don’t want to wear it.”
“Should I ask how you got goose shit on your shirt?”
“It’s a long story. I was trying to find out something about Cheríe Saucier. So I went to ask her sister. She has a goose on guard duty. Or maybe that’s doody.”
>
“Good lord, Harley. When did you become officially insane?” Cami ran a hand through her hair. It fell in silky soft strands into her eyes, making her look like a perplexed pixie.
“I’m not sure. Somewhere around puberty, I think.”
Cami nodded in understanding. “So what are you doing now?”
“If you say yes, staying here tonight.”
“I have to go back in to work at four-thirty, but I get off at eight-thirty. You can stay here with the creatures while I’m gone.”
“Oh joy.”
Cami grinned. “You survived last time.”
“Only because I was numb.”
“Come to the kitchen and you can tell me what you’ve been doing while I fix us some lunch.”
While Cami did her microwave magic, Harley perched on a chair and gave her a recap of what she’d found out. Somehow, saying it aloud helped her put things in perspective, and just as she was telling Cami how Anna Plotz Merritt had seemed upset to hear about Harry’s death, she had an epiphany.
“Damn!” she said, balling up her fist and smacking it into her other palm, “of course!”
Cami slid something from the microwave onto Harley’s plate and gave it to her. “Of course what?”
“Harry Gordon was involved with Anna, too. Maybe that’s why Cheríe killed him.”
“I thought Cheríe was dead.”
“She is. Frieda’s using her sister’s name.”
“Why?”
“Maybe she doesn’t like her name. Maybe she was named for a crazy old aunt or a brand of beer, and she thought Cheríe Saucier was sexier. People should watch what they name their kids. It can be demoralizing.”
Cami arched a brow. “So says Harley Davidson.”
“Exactly. I’ve considered changing my name. It was a decided detraction when I was in corporate banking, but it’s been a bit of an asset since I’ve been a tour guide. No one ever forgets it. What is this?” She stared down at her plate. It had two preformed brown things on one side, and long, limp green sticks on the other.
“Mesquite grilled chicken breasts and asparagus. It’s very good. And low carb.”
Harley looked up at her. “You’re still on a diet?”
“Yep. I’ve lost seven pounds already.”
“Cami, you aren’t fat.”
“Not anymore.”
Harley sighed. “Would it be rude to refuse a meal?”
“Nope. I’ll heat it up for my dinner tonight. By this time next week, I should have lost at least ten pounds.”
“That should come in handy if you ever want to get a job as a shadow. You’re doing this for Bobby, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I put on some weight and I want to look good for the summer.”
“Uh hunh. And it just happens that Bobby Baroni has been coming by to see you. Don’t bother to deny it. You already confessed. And he said Angel isn’t staying at his apartment much anymore. I’m assuming you’re ignoring all my previous warnings about him, so I won’t add any more you’ll ignore. Just be careful. Bobby’s track record isn’t so good.”
“I know that. And it’s not like that with us. I just . . . enjoy his company without any kind of expectations.”
“Cami, you have expectations from your cats. Which, by the way, are eying your dinner for tonight. I’ll put it in the fridge.”
She got up and covered the plate and stuck it on a shelf in the fridge, right beside a can of tuna and egg cat food covered with a cute green lid with a cat face on it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Cami started seeing Bobby. He was the first man she’d shown a real interest in since her divorce, and the alternative might very well be a descent into the Crazy Cat Lady syndrome. That would be tragic.
After she’d made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—using low carb bread that wasn’t really too bad—she helped Cami clean up the kitchen and they went into the den. Several cats decorated the chairs, and having experience with their reluctance to be dislodged, Harley sat on the end of the couch.
“So why didn’t you stay with Morgan?” Cami wanted to know, and Harley shrugged.
“I don’t know. Probably because he’s always on one of his secret undercover missions, and maybe because I don’t want to get too close.”
“Wait. He stays over at your apartment. You sleep with him. Can you get any closer?”
“Oh, you know what I mean, Cami. There’s just something too personal about putting your tampons in a guy’s bathroom. It seems . . . permanent.”
“And that’s bad?”
“No, it’s just scary. What if we wake up one day and decide we’ve made a mistake?”
“Then you split up,” Cami said, “and go on with your life. My life didn’t end when Jace and I divorced.”
“Not so you could tell, anyway.” Harley looked around at all the cats and dogs strewn about the room like furry shoes. “But something happened to make you collect all these things.”
“They’re not things. They have emotions, and most of them know just what it feels like to be unloved and unwanted. Some of them have been abused, and all of them were scared. I knew just how they felt. They only want what we all want, love and security.”
Harley looked at her a moment. Why had she never seen how deeply affected Cami had been by her divorce? Some friend she was, not to have noticed.
“You’re right,” she said. “Maybe we all go about it differently, but it’s pretty universal to want to be loved, I’d say.”
“And to feel safe.”
“That too. Cami, are you sure you’re all right? Because if you want to talk about Jace or anything, I’ll be glad to listen. I can’t give good advice since I’m obviously not that successful in the commitment part of a relationship, but I can nod in all the right places.”
Cami grinned. “I’m fine. Really. It took a while for me to get past the divorce, but you were always there for me when I called. You were a great distraction. You didn’t rehash all the drama and trauma and let me forget about it for a while. Don’t think just because I’ve become involved in animal rescue that I’m in danger of ending up like Mrs. Trumble, crazy and spiteful.”
“Don’t forget dead.”
“See? If she’d been nicer to animals, she might still be alive.”
“That’s not a recommendation, Cami. Think of the poor animals.”
“We are horrible people, you know that? We shouldn’t be so mean about Mrs. Trumble.”
“That’s one of the main differences between me and you, Cami. You think about things like that and I don’t.”
“You just like to think you don’t. You’re much nicer than you pretend to be. So, what are you going to do while I’m at work tonight?”
“Probably watch TV and catch up on phone calls. I’ve had this new cell phone for several days now, and it’s still in good shape. Isn’t that amazing?”
“I’m astonished. This must be a record for you.”
“It’s close.”
While they’d been talking, one of the cats crept up beside the end of the couch and stared up at Harley, the end of its tail twitching back and forth. When she looked down at it, blue eyes looked back up at her. “Ah. Sam. Bitten any more guests lately?”
“He likes you,” Cami said, and Harley shook her head.
“Forget it. I told you, I don’t like cats. They don’t like me. It’s a mutual thing that works quite well.”
“Uh hunh. Sam is pretty picky. He’s been known to attack some people. It’s made it hard to place him. He’s very, um, energetic in his dislikes.”
“You mean he bites.”
“Oh yeah. He doesn’t like children at all. I think whoever had him at first had small kids that tormented him pretty badly.”
“I share his sentiment. Most little kids are selfish beasts. Come to think of it, most men are, too. I think they let their inner child out far too often.”
“There are exceptions,” Cami said, and Harley nodded.<
br />
“Thank God.”
That led her to thoughts of Mike Morgan, and they talked about him for a while before Cami got up to do her litter box routine. Harley let the dogs out into the back yard, and stood for a moment on the large wooden deck under the shade of a huge weeping willow that draped over one half of the deck. Roses bloomed, and a wisteria, crawling over an arbor and along the fence, dangled soft clusters of flowers that smelled like grape. Very nice. Refreshing. It had a lush feel to it that she liked. Cami had done well.
“So you do all your own yard work?” she asked when Cami came out onto the deck to sit in one of the padded chairs under the willow.
“Not all of it. I pay someone to mow and edge, and I do the flower beds when I have time. Most of the stuff coming up is perennials that return every year. My yard guy should show up any time now. He’s really good, comes by regularly to mow and I send him a check once a month. If he comes by today, just let him in the back yard. There’s a lock on the inside gate you can undo.”
“I think I can manage that. How will I know it’s him?”
“Easy. He’ll have a truck with a lawn mower and gardening tools in my driveway.”
“I guess that would be a good clue.”
“Harley, you won’t go off on your own or anything, will you? You’ll stay here?”
“You’ve been talking to Bobby.”
“Well, he did call a couple of minutes ago. He’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I’ll stay here. If only because I’m tired of getting whacked in the head and pooped on.”
“These last few weeks have been—unusual. Even for you, Harley.”
“I have to agree.” She reflected for a moment, then said, “I blame it all on King. If he hadn’t eaten half of Mrs. Trumble’s car, none of this would have happened.”
“And you wouldn’t have met Morgan.”
“The only bright spot.”
“Or been in a position to try to help your aunt.”
Harley, who had closed her eyes against the sunlight, opened one to peer at Cami. “Are you saying this is a good thing?”
Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) Page 18
