“Thomas made this one easy for us,” she said, gesturing to the paper. “The Case of the Cocky Dick took place in Seattle. The villain of the story was a cop who used his uniform off-hours to approach women and question them about some facetious crime, then kill them. I’m guessing the clue is at one of the Seattle precincts.”
“Which one?”
At Max’s words, Evie made the mistake of lifting her gaze and looking into his eyes. There went that brain stutter thing again, she realized, then swallowed and tried to gather her wits about her.
This sexual attraction problem was almost more than her system could support and still maintain primary functions. Her mind and heart were in constant turmoil over what to think of him. There was so much about Max she found appealing, yet Thomas had despised him, and he had hated Thomas. According to Thomas, Max had abandoned his own mother. And when things didn’t go his way, he became sullen and snappish and downright surly.
Reminding herself that sexual attraction did not necessarily mean a man was right for you, she resolved to fortify her resistance to him. Sure, she could acknowledge that she desired him physically, but emotionally, unless she found out what drove him, what made him tick—what, if anything, he hid behind his churlish behavior—he was off limits.
She returned her attention to the clues. “I’d say it’s at the North Precinct since that’s where the villain in the story committed his crimes. Most of his victims were college girls, and that precinct is near the university. He’d target a girl while making his rounds, follow her and find out where she lived, then come back later.”
Max seemed to mull this over for moment. “Heyworth hid one of the clues inside a police precinct? I find that really hard to accept.”
Evie crossed her arms and quirked her lips. Such a know-it-all. Here he’d asked for her opinion, and when she gave it, he decided to ignore it.
“You got a better idea, Detective?”
With a bit of a shrug, he smiled and said, “Well, you’re the expert. Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. Where in the North Precinct?” The sparkle in his eye told her he didn’t believe her, but it was the only lead they had.
She quirked her lips again. Boy, just when you thought you had somebody pegged, they went and surprised you.
“I’ll tell you that, Detective Smartass,” she said, “when we get there.”
Chapter 9
Dear Diary:
Today was Saturday, and Pete, that's my mom’s boyfriend, took us to the Woodland Park Zoo! It was awesome! And Pete bought us hot dogs and ice cream, and I got a balloon, and peanuts to feed the elephants, Pete’s really nice and he has kind eyes and I asked my mom if she was going to marry him. If she did, then he could be my dad! I think Pete would make a great dad, so I hope he falls in love with my mom!
Evangeline—age 10
The first ferry out of Port Henry sailed at six o’clock in the morning, so by the time they reached Pier 52 in Seattle, it was nearly nine. As Max drove off the boat and into the heavy morning traffic on Alaskan Way, he was feeling the effects of only three hours’ sleep.
“Is there a drive-through Starbucks around here somewhere?” he said, making eye contact with Evie in the rearview mirror where she sat just behind him.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We can stop and ask.”
“That’s okay. It can wait. We’re cutting it pretty close as it is. I alerted the precinct to be on the look-out for Edmunds and the woman, but if they caught the ferry last night, they’ve been in Seattle for hours. If their clue is not at the precinct, they may already have found it, and are well on their way to Number Three.”
In the seat next to Max, Nate yawned. “I think you should turn left here.”
“Why? Do you know where the precinct is?”
“No, but we’re supposed to proceed north and—”
“We can stop and ask,” Evie said from the backseat. In the mirror, he saw her nudge Lorna.
Max downshifted and moved in front of a Metro bus. “I’m sure it’s up this way.”
“Do you have a map?” she persisted.
“No, but I’ve been in this part of Seattle before. I’ll find it.” He put on his signal to turn.
“I don’t think you can turn here. It’s one-way.”
He flicked her a glance in the mirror. “Then I’ll turn on the next one.”
Lorna blinked sleepy eyes and looked out the window. “Didn’t we pass that sporting goods store once already?”
“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions,” Evie said, an evil gleam in her eye. “You’re not the kind of man who refuses to ask for directions, are you?”
“I am fully capable of asking for directions, Ms. Randall,” he groused. “But it just so happens I know exactly where I’m going, so I don’t need to stop and ask for directions.”
Nate sighed. “Up one hill and down, driving through the town, ignoring suggestions that do vex, coming from the fairer sex—”
“Give it a rest, Keats. I liked you better when you were reclusive.”
Lorna leaned forward and put her hands on the back of Nate’s seat. “Oh, that was wonderful, Dabney. You can make up poems right on the spot, just like that. I’m so impressed.”
Was this woman nuts, or thoroughly devoid of any kind of taste, or was she so smitten that her ears had clogged up?
Nate pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned to her. “Thanks. It’s not so hard,” he said gently, then looked over at Max and frowned. “Especially when you’re highly motivated.”
Due to the time of day and the amount of traffic they had to deal with, it took nearly an hour to reach the North Precinct. When they pulled up in front, Max caught Evie’s gaze in the rearview mirror and sent her a look that said, See? I got us here and I didn’t have to ask for directions.
She sent him a look in return that said, Idiot. Max opened the car door for Evie, then reached in and took her hand, helping her from the backseat of his midnight-blue Lexus IS sedan. Her fingers curled around his in a reflexive action, which he in no way took for flirting but wished he could.
Her skin was warm, her hands soft, and as she stepped out of the car, he made certain to stand his ground, not move back, not give her enough room so she’d have to come into close contact. He had her trapped between the open car door and his body, and for a moment let himself enjoy her clean, soapy scent, the gleam of morning sunlight on her glorious red hair, the flash of irritation in her blue eyes.
She was on to him and didn’t budge. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze with a challenge. “So, here we are. Amazing. Do you ever ask for directions, Detective?”
“I do,” he said softly, locking gazes with her. “When I’ve never been… somewhere before with… someone. Unfamiliar territory, so to speak. I’ll ask if there’s anything I can do to make her journey better. If she directs me to shift my attention a bit more to the left, I will. Or perhaps I’m doing lickity-split through a narrow tunnel, and she asks me to slow down. I can go very, very slow. Exquisitely slow. You may not guess it to look at me, but I’m highly responsive to… directions.”
Evie swallowed and pressed her plush lips together. She took a deep breath, which made her breasts rise and fall under the thin blue sweater she wore.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve obviously underestimated you. And here I was prepared to give you a good tongue lashing.”
His heart stopped, then jumped ahead. Without thinking, he moved his hands to cup her shoulders. His gaze dropped to her soft mouth, then back up to her eyes, which were gleaming with satisfaction.
“I’ll take a rain check on that,” he murmured as Lorna and Nate came around to stand behind them.
Letting his hands fall away from Evie’s shoulders, she moved away, and he closed the car door, took her arm, and started toward the precinct. “I still can’t imagine how, with all these police officers and patrol cars around, Heyworth would have been able to hide three clues somewhere inside the station.”
&nbs
p; “He didn’t.”
At Evie’s words, Max stopped and turned her to face him. “What did you say?”
She looked dynamite in her sweater and blue jeans, but he forced himself not to notice the sweet curves of her body as she put her hands on her hips and said, “The clues aren’t in the precinct. At least, I don’t think they are.”
He bit down on his temper, which had more to do with acute sexual frustration than with actual anger. “Well then where the hell are they, Miss Marple?”
“My, my,” she all but purred. “We really do need our coffee, don’t we?” Lifting her arm, she pointed across the street. “Tawy’s Tavern is open. I’ll bet they have coffee.”
Nate murmured, “A tavern. Right across the street from the precinct. I’ll bet a lot of cops hang out there.”
“The passage in one of the clues,” Lorna said, “referred to a bar. The villain walked into a bar…”
“Since The Case of the Cocky Dick was fiction,” Evie explained, “I wasn’t sure there’d be a real tavern near the station or if Thomas had made it up. That’s why I couldn’t say much until we got here. I don’t think the clue is in the precinct house. I think it’s in the tavern.”
They entered the old brick building and walked across the highly polished hardwood floor. An ancient man behind the bar stood peering into an open ledger.
“ ’Morning,” he said as the four of them approached. “You folks want coffee?”
“That’d be great,” Max said.
“Suze!” the old man shouted over his shoulder. “Four on the floor! You can sit anywheres. Suze be out in a minute with your coffees.”
“Thanks,” Max said, showing his badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions first.”
The old man looked at the badge, then at Max. “You know, son,” he said with a slight chuckle, “police station’s right across the street. I seen more badges than Carter’s got pills. You got a question, ask it.”
Behind them a few of the round tables were occupied with uniformed officers sipping coffee, digging into a hot breakfast, bullshitting about a good or a bad bust they’d made last night.
The woman named Suze appeared with four steaming mugs of coffee on a tray. As Max gratefully took one, he nodded his thanks and took a long gulp, letting the scorching liquid warm his insides all the way down.
“We’re looking for a man and a woman, may have been in very late last night or early this morning.” Max took another slug of coffee. Not bad. Not half bad. “Tall, thin man, short, round woman. She’s Russian and—”
“They was here. I gave ’em their envelope and they left.”
“Envelope?”
“Sure. Tommy Heyworth gave ’em to me, oh, must have been a good six months ago, with instructions to pass ’em along to the right folks when they showed up and asked.”
“Them,” Max repeated.
“Sure. Had three of ’em. Now, I only got two.” The old man smiled, showing crooked yellow teeth. He had gray hair, what there was of it, and sharp black eyes. “The envelopes is marked with the names, I didn’t know what it was all about, but Tommy was an old friend of mine, son of a bitch that he was. Told him I’d do as he asked when the time came.”
“How long ago did the man and Russian woman leave?”
“Was waiting for me when I opened this morning, ’bout five-thirty.”
Great. Edmunds and Madame Grovda had a nearly five-hour head start on them for Clue Number Three, wherever in the hell it was.
Evie stepped forward and put her hands on the smooth bar. “Is there one for Evie Randall and Max Galloway?”
He presented Evie with a charming smile, then slid his glance over to Max and frowned.
“There’s one marked ‘My Darling Evie and Detective Dickhead.’ That’d be you, I figure.”
Max scowled. “Yeah, that’d be me.”
The old fellow opened a drawer, removed an envelope and slapped it down on the bar.
“The other one’s for us,” Lorna said softly. “Lorna and Dabney, or whatever he may have called us.”
Another envelope smacked wood. Nate reached over and picked it up.
Max tossed some bills onto the bar to pay for the coffee. “You’ve been a great help. Thanks.”
The man nodded as he collected the money, grinning like a cat that had just popped a canary. “By the way,” he said, chuckling low in his throat, “Tommy said to give you a message.”
“All of us, or just me?”
“Just you.”
Evie, Lorna, and Nate took their coffees and moved to a table in the corner by the front window.
“Let’s have it.”
“Said to tell you that this one was easy. They get harder from now on. Lots harder.”
Max took another swig of coffee. “He say anything else?”
“Matter of fact, he did. Didn’t make no sense to me until I seen you come in.” He flicked a glance at the table where Evie was sipping her coffee, smiling at Nate and Lorna. “Said if you was after a real treasure, you might start by looking right under your nose.”
As Max walked to the table, he kept his eyes on Evie. Sunshine filtered through the window, casting her profile in silhouette. The old man had called her a treasure, and maybe she was. And maybe that wasn’t the problem. Maybe the problem was, he didn’t deserve to be rich.
She stared up at me, all innocent and soft. But I wasn't no dummy. I’d seen her kind before. The kind that likes to sucker you in, make you think about things a man’s got no business thinking about with a broad like that. Then, wham. She pulls the rug out, see? And you're left flat on your back with a ring in your pocket and mud on your face.
T. E. Heyworth, 1959
The Lady Takes No Prisoners
Everyone was hungry, so Suze came by the table and took their orders. While they waited, Evie sat back in her chair, idly stirring her coffee with a spoon, letting Thomas’s words stir around inside her head.
Suze arrived with plates heaped with food and placed them in front of each of them. After she’d departed, Max said, “Any ideas?”
Evie picked up her fork, resting her hand on the table. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’m still thinking.”
Max doused his eggs with salt and pepper then heaped strawberry jam on his toast. “Where is The Lady Takes No Prisoners set?”
“Seattle mostly,” Lorna offered. She lowered her lashes and blushed. “I read a lot of Mr. Heyworth’s books in preparation for working for him. Unfortunately, since he was killed so soon after I arrived, it didn’t really do much good.”
“But you read this book,” Dabney said, as he added ketchup to his hash-browned potatoes. “And it takes place in Seattle. What part?”
Lorna gave a delicate shrug. “All over the place. The villain of the story is a door-to-door brush salesman who approaches housewives, then kills them.”
“Does he get caught?”
She nodded. “He falls for an undercover policewoman who sets him up.”
They were all silent as they ate their breakfasts and pondered the meaning of the clues. Finally, Evie said, “We might not be able to figure this one out as easily as the first one. If Lorna and I can’t decipher our clues, maybe Edmunds can’t figure his out, either, and he’ll head back to the island.”
Max tossed down his napkin. “I think we should go to the library, get a copy of the book, and go through it page by page. Maybe something’ll pop.”
“Oh, dear,” Evie drawled, sending Max a sardonic look. “I think I actually agree with you.”
“Hmm. I just may have to note that in my memoirs.”
“That might be a good idea,” she quipped, “since it will probably never happen again.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that, sweetheart.” Then he winked.
Damn, she wished he’d cut that kind of thing out! Just when she had it in her head to dislike him, he’d do something charming. She wished he’d make up his mind on how to be, so she could figure out just how
she felt about him.
They finished breakfast and rose from the table. The men paid the bill, then the four of them headed for the door.
Outside, the late morning sun had decided to hide behind a layer of dense clouds. A breeze had come up, carrying the scent of rain with it. Evie stopped at the curb and looked over at Max, who was deep in conversation with Dabney and Lorna. Though she didn’t know Lorna very well, it was obvious the woman had developed feelings for the handsome poet, who didn’t look like a poet at all—at least, not like any poet Evie had ever seen. He seemed shy and sweet, and very attentive to the equally shy and sweet secretary.
Out of the corner of her eye something caught her attention. A flash of light—then the window behind her shattered!
Evie screamed and lifted her arms to cover her face. Another blast, and wood splinters from the door behind her spiked through the air.
She felt an impact, like a locomotive knocking over a rag doll. The air whooshed from her lungs as she landed hard on the sidewalk, a heavy object covering her body.
Max.
His arms were around her back, her head cradled in his hands so her skull wouldn’t slam against the cement.
Another blast, and the sidewalk beside their heads spit pellets into her exposed scalp. She buried her face in his shoulder.
Arms still wound around her, Max rolled the two of them into the gutter behind a parked car. His weight felt solid and secure against her as he shielded her from the gunfire.
A second passed, then another. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and his open hand brushed her breast. For a moment she stopped breathing.
He punched a button. “Shots fired!” he shouted into the phone. “Tawy’s, across the street from North Precinct. Location of shooter unknown. Exit precinct with caution. Four individuals on the ground… Yeah, affirmative.”
She could feel his chest expand and contract with each labored breath. He had one arm around her, the other free to hold the phone, but he seemed in no hurry to let her go, even though the gunfire had ceased.
Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie Page 9
