“Got it.”
I ordered onion soup and the tarte du jour. Logan ordered the escargot.
I was impressed. I’d met a few cops who were adventurous enough to eat snails, but not many. For most, French cuisine begins and ends with freedom fries.
“I can only assume you haven’t cracked the case or you would’ve mentioned it before they brought the breadsticks,” I said.
“You assume right, but I am making progress. And I still don’t need help, Alanis.”
I looked around the restaurant with wide eyes.
“Jinkies,” I said. “I suddenly have the strongest feeling of déjà vu. As if I’d been here before having the same conversation…”
“I checked in with the Fourth Street Pawn Shop a little while ago. I had some questions related to another case. And do you know what the manager said to me?”
“He’d give you twenty dollars for that watch?”
“He wanted to know why I hadn’t sent my new partner over—the one who’d come in that morning. He preferred to deal with her from now on. She was a lot cuter than me.”
“It’s nice to know pawn shop managers find me attractive. I never said I was a cop, though.”
“Because you didn’t have to. He assumed you were, so you let him.”
“It’s illegal to let people make an ass out of u and me?”
“No. But it is dumb.”
“So dumb the guy answered my questions and I could move on to the next place and that’s where I found a bunch of jewelry my mom was wink wink ‘cleansing’ for her clients. And I was able to buy the stuff back and start returning it this afternoon.”
“Hey, that’s great. I’m happy for you. You’re a regular Robin Hood. Now would you please stop?”
“Don’t you even want to know where I found the jewelry?”
Logan sighed. “Where did you find the jewelry?”
“Jones Pawn & Loan in Flagstaff. I assume you already checked there for the electronics that were stolen from my mother?”
“Of course I checked there. Days ago. Now may I ask a question that you haven’t put in my mouth for me?”
I mulled it over.
“I shall allow it,” I pronounced.
“Where were you last night?”
“Are you asking me as a policeman or the guy taking me out to dinner at a swanky French restaurant?”
“Would it make a difference?”
“No. I was at Mom’s place, of course. What’s up? Did someone steal the Pink Panther diamond again?”
Logan looked deeply puzzled.
Sometimes I forget that not everyone had a sociopath for a mom and a television for a dad.
“Why do you ask?” I said.
“This morning William Riggs was arrested for possession of a controlled substance, resisting arrest, and aggravated assault on a peace officer.”
“Wait—what about the concealed weapon?” I wanted to ask.
But I let it go. This was Arizona. Maybe anything less than a bazooka didn’t count.
I rolled my eyes up and tapped a finger against my chin.
“William Riggs…William Riggs…William Riggs. Why does that name ring a bell? Say! He was one of the guys on that list you gave me, wasn’t he? Had some kind of bug up his butt about Mom?”
Logan glowered at me.
“What a coincidence,” I went on. “Does he have any priors? Assault, drunk and disorderly, that kind of thing?”
“He says he was framed.”
“For drunk and disorderly?”
“For the drugs.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“I don’t know. They’re crazy?”
“Hmm. I can’t say that’s very convincing, as conspiracy theories go. No, it’s more likely the guy’s just hopped up on goofballs. Thanks for the heads-up. I feel safer knowing he’ll be off the streets for a good long time.”
“We also got a call from Victor Castellanos yesterday.”
I started tapping my chin again. “Victor Castellanos…”
Logan’s scowl deepened.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Him.”
“He said you’ve been harassing him and his mother.”
“If a few friendly visits constitute harassment in your jurisdiction, then I’m guilty as charged. Ooo—I think that lady at the other table just smiled at me. Help, officer! I’m being harassed!”
“You don’t want to mess with Castellanos, Alanis.”
“What’s he going to do? Make me run twenty laps around the gym?”
“A few months back, he got into a big blow-up with the owner of one of the nursing homes in town. Claimed they hadn’t been taking proper care of his mother—let con artists in to swindle her and the like.”
“Fascinating. Do go on.”
“The nursing-home guy ended up with a broken collarbone.”
Fascinating indeed.
“And Castellanos is still teaching at the high school?” I said.
“No charges were filed. The guy claimed he just tripped and fell.”
“On his collarbone.”
Logan nodded.
“During a big blow-up.”
Logan kept nodding.
“Well, lucky for him,” I said. “If Castellanos had assaulted him, it could have led to some very, very bad publicity. Maybe even an investigation of his business practices.”
“Oh, that’s happening anyway. But it’s not the point.”
“And the point is…what? Don’t let Victor Castellanos near my collarbone?”
“Yes, Alanis. That is the goddamn point. I was stupid enough to give you three names, and two of them have turned out to be trouble one way or another.”
Actually it was three for three, but I didn’t feel like mentioning Ken Meldon’s pop-in with a souped-up BB gun.
“You won’t be getting any more help from me,” Logan said. “If you bring something nasty down on yourself, you’re on your own.”
“You think that’s anything new for me?” I snapped back.
I showed him how strong and self-reliant I am by snatching up a breadstick and snapping it in two with my bare hands.
Before I could take a big, savage bite and really prove how tough I am, Logan reached out and gently put a hand over one of mine.
“Look, Alanis,” he said. “I don’t really know you. You’re so cagey I don’t even know if you’re knowable, if that makes any sense. But I know I like you, and I’m worried about you. Your mother just died and you’re working through some pretty complicated feelings and I think that’s got you so confused you can’t even see how reckless you’re being. You’ve told me you’re here to make amends, but all I really see you doing is stirring up trouble—mostly for yourself. You’ve already had one complete stranger threaten your life. Do you really want to take that to the next level? I mean, I hate to say it, but you went to the morgue yesterday, didn’t you? You saw what someone did…”
I started to pull my hand away.
Logan clamped down hard.
“I’m not asking this as a cop,” he said. “I’m asking it as the guy sitting next to you in the swanky French restaurant. Will you back off, Alanis? Please?”
And then he let go.
I thought about lifting my hand up again and taking that big bite out of my breadstick. Defiantly, Bugs Bunny-chomping-on-a-carrot style.
Instead I just dropped the two halves onto the table.
I don’t even like breadsticks. Who enjoys edible pencils?
“It’d be easy to tell you yes,” I said. “You’re asking so nicely, and I appreciate that. Truly. But it’d be a lie. I’m closing in on something—a few somethings, it feels like—and I’m not going to give up now. For instance: five thousand dollars in cash was disappearing from my mother’s
place each month. That’s not just a run of bad luck at the bingo hall. I’m thinking someone was shaking her down. Why don’t you throw that at Grandi and see if he blinks? And another for instance: I bought back more jewelry this afternoon than Ken Meldon and Victor Castellanos’s mom can account for. There are a lot more disgruntled customers out there than the three you know of, and I’m going to keep looking for them. So, no. I’m sorry. Stopping isn’t an option.”
When I was done, Logan didn’t seem angry or disappointed. He just looked very, very tired.
Our waiter swooped in and slid a plate of escargot under his nose.
“Hey, look—your chicken entrails,” I said. “What do you see in your future, O wise one?”
Logan picked up a fork and gave one of the glistening shells a glum tap.
“Snails,” he said.
We cheered up after that. No one was trying to get anything out of anyone anymore. Not information, not cooperation, not a concession. We could just enjoy the food (or not, in Logan’s case—he’d been trying to impress me with his order) and the company.
It was very date-like, and I enjoyed it, which was rare for me and date-like experiences. Most of mine had felt like con jobs.
Don’t say the wrong thing. Stay in character. Convince him you’re normal.
About fifteen minutes into the actual meal, just as I gave in and traded what was left of my tarte in exchange for a bunch of dead mollusks I didn’t really want, Logan put a hand over his heart and said, “I’m vibrating.”
“Are you declaring your love or having a heart attack?”
“Neither.”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his BlackBerry.
“Sorry. I’ve gotta take this,” he said after a quick glance at the screen.
He pressed the BlackBerry to his ear and hustled off.
I made use of the time alone to eat more of my tarte. When Logan returned a few minutes later, there were only two bites left.
“Hey!”
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” I said. “Tell you what: you can have what’s left, and you don’t even have to give me any escargot for it.”
“Screw it. I’m going straight to dessert.”
Logan started looking around for our waiter.
“So…?” I said. “The call…?”
“I was gonna get to that. I thought you’d find it interesting. William Riggs’s bond hearing has been scheduled for next Monday morning. He’ll be before Judge Crowell.”
Logan waggled his eyebrows.
“And this means…?” I said, waggling mine, too.
“Judge Crowell is a hardass. One of the hardest hardasses in Arizona, and we make ’em hard here. Riggs isn’t going to catch any breaks. He’s going to get himself a nice little vacay in the county lockup—and maybe a long one if he can’t make whatever crazy bail Crowell sets.”
“Oh. Bummer for him.”
Our waiter stepped out of the kitchen with a plate, and I raised a finger and caught his eye.
Suddenly I was in the mood for dessert, too.
It was dark out when we finished dinner, and Logan offered to escort me back to my mom’s place.
“You don’t think I’m safe on the mean streets of Berdache?” I asked.
“I just like walking with you.”
I was grateful it was dark out. Turns out a girl can commit over a hundred felonies before she hits puberty and still blush when the right guy acts starry-eyed.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to come between you and a good time,” I said. “Escort away.”
When we got to the White Magic Five & Dime, he kissed me.
He was quick about it and gentle. There was no clinch, no groping. No tongue, thank god. He just leaned in quick—but not too quick—and put his lips to mine.
I shivered, but in a good way. Like when you take that first taste of something so rich and sweet and delicious your whole body wakes up tingling and says, “Nice!”
“Whoa,” I said when it was over.
“I hope it’s all right that I did that.”
“Yeah. Oh yeah. It’s all right. It’s just…whoa.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna see us?”
Logan shrugged. “We’re the talk of the town anyway. Why fight it?”
“Good point.”
I kissed him.
It ended after the second kiss. Logan was very gentlemanly, very proper, and I understood entirely and could have kicked his ass for it.
We parted wistfully.
“Promise you won’t get into any trouble?” he said.
“Promise you won’t arrest me if I do?”
“I can’t.”
“Me neither.”
There was nothing left to say after that but good night.
From outside, I’d noticed that the light was on upstairs. Clarice was home. Probably doing her homework, perhaps with Ceecee.
I hoped she was alone. I was looking forward to trying this sister thing on for size.
Big Sister: You’ll never believe who just kissed me!
Little Sister: Oh my god! Who?
Big Sister: Guess!
Little Sister: I don’t know!
Big Sister: Detective…Josh…Logan!
Little Sister: Squeeee! OMFG!
Both jump up and down, giggling hysterically.
Cut to montage of talking, laughing, baking cookies, combing hair, putting on makeup, dancing in pajamas and singing along to “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge.
“Hey, Clarice,” I said as I reached the top of the stairs. “You’ll never guess—”
“Never guess what?” said the man with the gun.
He had a deep, croaky voice and a cueball-bald head.
The woman with him had a gun, too.
It was pointed at my little sister.
A new day has dawned, and today the whole world looks different. Just take a peek out your window. You never noticed all those sunflowers in your yard, did you? And check it out: a naked kid on a horse! Wow! You sure didn’t see that when you peeped out through the blinds at midnight. In fact, you didn’t see anything at all but the blackness of your own despair. Well, it’s always darkest before the dawn, they say. And they’re right. The trick is surviving the night.
Miss Chance, Infinite Roads to Knowing
“I’m sorry,” Clarice said, her voice warbly, her face wet with tears. “I should’ve said something. I shouldn’t have let you come up the stairs.”
She was sitting on the couch, handcuffs around her wrists.
Anthony Grandi tucked his gun away, then stepped up and cuffed me, too.
The woman kept her gun trained on Clarice. She was a short, stout, fortyish woman with bright red hair and a face that was both cherubic and churlish. Her eyes were cold, her hand steady.
“It’s okay,” I said to Clarice. “You did the right thing.”
“Move.”
Grandi turned me around and shoved me toward the stairs. He wasn’t as big as I’d pictured him—that rumbly-growly voice of his made him sound like Chewbacca—but he shoved hard.
“Now, just hold on a second, Grandi. Why don’t we—?”
He shoved me again.
This was my we-meet-at-last moment with the man, but all I could get out was, “All right! Stop it! I’m going!”
I was scared he’d push me down the stairs, though that wouldn’t have made any sense. Why risk breaking a leg when there was a cornfield somewhere I had to walk to?
We were marched out the back door once Grandi was sure no one was around to see us. He’d confiscated the keys to my mom’s black Cadillac, and soon he was driving us out of town in it. I hadn’t even been in it before then. It looked too much like a hearse.
They made Clarice and me get in the back.
The woman watched us from the front passenger seat. She’d given us a little speech I remembered well, though it had been twenty-something years since I’d first heard it. You know—the one about being dead before we hit the asphalt if we tried to get out.
There weren’t really any cornfields around Berdache, of course, but there was plenty of desert.
It would do.
Grandi was good at making snatches, I had to give him that. All that skip tracing had paid off, apparently. He’d whisked us out of town before even I could get my mouth working. By the time I had a thought in my head other than shit, we were cruising past the turn-off for Devil’s Ridge.
I put a hand on Clarice’s knee and gave it a squeeze. She looked back at me with wide, frightened eyes.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’re not dumb enough to hurt us.”
Clarice nodded, but her eyes didn’t look any less wide or any less frightened.
I turned toward the front seat.
“I was talking to Detective Logan not fifteen minutes ago, you know. Over dinner. If anything happens to us, the first door he’s gonna kick in is yours.”
Grandi didn’t even glance at me in the rear-view mirror.
The woman smirked.
Obviously, the words “Detective Logan” didn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of Arizona’s evildoers. I resolved not to mention it if I ever saw Logan again. Every cop secretly believes he’s Batman.
I jerked my chin at Grandi.
“Tony I know,” I said to the woman. “Who are you?”
“Someone who doesn’t answer questions from dumbasses who don’t know when to shut up.”
“Wow. That’s a mouthful. How do you get all that on a driver’s license?”
The woman’s smirk turned into a sneer. I got the feeling she was good at scowls, glowers, and glares, too.
“You’re not scared, huh? Well, good for you.” She brought her gun up to show me what it was pointed at: my heart. “Now show me you’re not stupid.”
As it turned out, I did know when to shut up.
Right then, that was when.
“Watch out for potholes,” I said to Grandi.
The White Magic Five & Dime (A Tarot Mystery) Page 21
