Before she could answer, the young woman from behind the counter approached with two glasses of ice water. She set one before each of them, dropped two straws on the table, and then pulled an order pad from her apron pocket. “May I take your order?” asked the woman whose nametag read “Tina.”
“Yes,” Darci readily answered, happy for the break in conversation. “I’ll have an order of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream, and a large sweet tea.”
Tina scribbled Darci’s order onto the pad. “And you?” she asked Steed, never once looking at either of them.
“I’ll have the rib plate with string beans, macaroni, sweet potatoes, and tea,” Steed answered.
“All right, I’ll put this in and it’ll be right—” Tina’s words ended when she finally made eye contact with Darci. The pencil dropped to the floor. “Oh, my goodness, you’re…Do you know who you are?”
Darci laughed. She didn’t think the waitress was capable of this much excitement. “Yes, I do,” she answered. “How are you, Tina?”
Tina’s brown eyes widened. “You know who I am?”
“It’s on your shirt,” she said, motioning to the nametag.
“Oh.”
“I guess you all have been busy today,” she said, reaching to the floor and handing Tina her pencil.
“Very. I apologize for not noticing you sooner.”
“Please, don’t apologize for that. I’m just me. I don’t need special treatment because I report the news. Is Miss Sophie around?”
“She’s in the kitchen. I’ll get her for you.”
“Thank you, Tina.”
“Thank you.” Tina’s smile grew wider, her face the picture of awe. “I’m a communications major at the university, and my friends won’t believe it when I tell them I met you. You’re even nicer in real life than you seem on TV.”
“That’s very nice of you to say.” Darci couldn’t help smiling back. She worked in the TV news industry, so she wasn’t acting, just being herself. For Tina to say she seemed even nicer was a pretty good compliment. Especially when the cop sitting across from her had all but called her a pain in the butt to her face.
“I’ll place your orders and tell Miss Sophie you’re here.”
Darci placed her straw in the water and drew a sip as Tina made tracks to the kitchen. “She seems like a nice girl.”
“And you wonder why I stare,” Steed remarked.
She took another sip and met Steed’s gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“You. Lady, you are a walking contradiction. You’ve been on my back all day, but in between all that, you have time to be pleasant to the chief and make the day of one of your adoring fans. Why can’t you be easygoing like that all the time?”
“I am like that all the time.”
“The hell you say! You’ve barely been civil to me.”
“I haven’t been unkind to you. If anything, I’ve just been responding to your lack of warmth. I happen to have a lot on my mind.”
“And whose fault is that? You heard what Lorene said. You know how Warwick died. You were just about to explain yourself when Tina came over. I would very much like to hear what’s going on in that mind of yours.”
“You think you do, but you don’t.”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You also said I was crazy—no—ridiculous to think what I’m thinking. So, maybe I should keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t need you to humor me.”
“Have you taken a moment to think that maybe I need me to humor you?”
Darci frowned. Why was he speaking in riddles? “What?”
“I need to understand why you feel the way you do. All signs say Kenneth Warwick committed suicide, but you want to call it a murder, and you’re determined to do so regardless of what the facts show.”
“I’m a reporter, Detective, facts are important to me, too. However, unlike you, I have another fact. A fact you are unwilling to take under consideration. That being, Kenny wouldn’t kill himself. You know, if I were given a dollar for the number of times I’ve said those four words today, I would be able to pay for your lunch and mine several times over.”
“Perhaps you should use that figurative money for some sessions on a psychiatrist’s couch,” he mumbled.
Darci’s jaw tightened. Her fingernails tapped an anxious beat against the tabletop. “You know, it’s those kinds of comments that make telling you what I think impossible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that!” She sucked in a breath. “What are you apologizing for, huh? Being a smart-ass or just lacking tact?”
“Well I’ll be!”
“Miss Sophie!” Darci set aside her hostility toward the irritating detective as the owner/operator of the restaurant approached with two glasses of tea and her megawatt smile. Darci set the drinks on the table and slid from the booth to greet Miss Sophie. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said, giving the woman a bright smile and big hug.
Darci pulled back to take a good look at the woman. Seventy if she was a day, Miss Sophie looked at least fifteen years younger, and at about five feet-four, carried her twenty extra pounds like a medal of excellence for her culinary expertise. Her milk chocolate complexion glistened from the heat of standing over a stove all afternoon, and per the norm, a hairnet covered her shoulder-length wavy mane.
“You look good, child.” Miss Sophie clasped Darci’s hands and pulled her downward to kiss her cheek. “Tina told me you were out here.” She shook her head. “It’s a shame about that poor boy.”
Darci nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“Steed!” Miss Sophie held her hand out to the abrasive detective. “Come give me some sugar, baby.”
Darci watched in stunned silence as Steed happily slid off the seat and brought Miss Sophie into his arms. He seemed more like a steak and potatoes kind of guy, with the hint of a Texas accent and cowboy boots, not someone who’d frequent Sophie’s.
“It’s good to see you, Miss Sophie,” Steed said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then releasing her.
“Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“At my desk.” His eyes cut to Darci. “There’s been a lot keeping me busy.”
Not missing the visual dig, Darci returned his evil eye before taking one of the two glasses of tea. Iced tea you got in the North, sweet tea you got in the South. And nobody’s sweet tea could beat Miss Sophie’s. Darci savored a long sip. Lemony sweetness blended with perfectly brewed tea. She drank more. It was like rapture in a glass.
“Well, I’m just glad to see you.” Miss Sophie patted Steed’s muscular upper arm. “It’s not good to work too hard. I’m glad to see you out and about, and with such a nice girl, too.” She smiled brightly. “You two look real good together.”
Darci almost strangled on the tea. “Miss Sophie, you couldn’t be more wrong,” she said in the midst of her coughing fit. “We are not together.”
“Of course you are, baby.”
Steed shook his head. “No, ma’am, we’re not,” he said. “I was in charge of Kenneth Warwick’s case, and Ms. Clarke is having a little trouble accepting the facts behind his demise.”
“You telling me you don’t think she’s a pretty girl?”
Steed poked around the shell of his ear. Darci couldn’t help wondering about his strange reaction as she waited for his reply.
“No, ma’am, I’m not saying that,” he said.
“So, you think she’s pretty?”
“Yeah, I guess she’s pretty, sure,” he mumbled.
Darci’s eyes widened. Did Steed McGraw admit, half-heartedly, he thought she was pretty? The smile encompassing Miss Sophie’s face said he did. Why did that make her feel so good?
“And what about you, Darci?” said Miss Sophie.
Darci blinked. “Me?”
“Uh-huh.” Miss Sophie nodded. “Steed is a handsome young man, don’t you think?”
Darci took a sideways glance in his direction
and noted the wide grin on his face. She didn’t like lying, but she definitely didn’t want to answer that question right now.
“Well, baby?”
“Miss Sophie, if you think so, is there any way I can disagree with you?”
The smug grin on Steed’s face vanished. Darci smirked, pleased with her quick thinking and Steed’s unhappy response to it.
“Anyway, I’m not looking for romance,” Darci said, “just some insight as to what happened with Kenny.”
“When you look for love, you never find it. I’m just telling you young people to keep your eyes open. Sometimes you find things staring you right in the face when you think you’re looking for something else. Now, I’m gonna go on back and get your food. I’m bringing out more than peach cobbler for you, Darci.” She gave Darci’s hip a pat. “Baby, you’re just about skin and bones.”
Skin and bones? At five-eleven and a size ten, she was straddling the obese line in terms of female television newswomen, but hearing someone call her skin and bones made her feel good. Miss Sophie and her staff were just full of compliments today.
“You two sit on down.” Miss Sophie pushed them back into the booth. “I’ll be right back.”
Steed gave Darci all his attention when Ms. Sophie disappeared into the kitchen. “You are quite the evasive one, aren’t you?” he said, taking a drink from his sweating glass of tea.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Yes, you are, but I don’t expect you to own up to it. It would go against your nature.”
“Speaking of going against nature,” she said, ignoring his little crack, “I didn’t know you knew Miss Sophie.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You don’t seem like the soul food type to me.”
“Lady, I think you’ll have a better chance at proving Kenneth Warwick didn’t kill himself, which is impossible, than you’ll ever have at trying to figure out what type I am. I’m an open book to no one. Now, why don’t you tell me about your reaction to Lorene’s report.”
Darci shook her head. After roughly ten minutes with Steed McGraw, she’d had enough. Looking at a handsome face and buff body could keep one entertained for only so long, and fun time was long over for her.
“Fine, you want to know, I’ll tell you. I can’t refute what Dr. Kellogg’s report shows, but I still don’t buy it. You can call me crazy, in fact, you can call me whatever the hell you want, but I cannot accept this.” She grabbed her purse and eased out of the booth. “Thank you for your invaluable help, Detective, but I’ll no longer be needing your services. I’m the only one in this town who doesn’t believe Kenny killed himself, and I’ll be the only one who proves it.”
CHAPTER 5
Steed considered letting her leave, with a suggestion she not let the doorknob hit her on the way out. But he couldn’t do it for two reasons. One, he didn’t want to lose his promotion, and two, he truly felt bad for her and didn’t get any pleasure in seeing her in so much pain.
“Ms. Clarke, wait.” Steed slid from the booth and took her hand. Electricity crackled in the air from the sizzle of the simple touch. He met her gaze. “Don’t leave in haste.”
Darci looked at their joined hands, and after a fleeting moment pulled hers away. Her dark eyes shone with equal parts fascination and frustration. Steed laughed to himself. He could definitely relate to her feelings. No woman had ever stirred up such conflicting emotions in him all at the same time. Half the time he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, and the rest of the time he wanted to take her over his knee and spank her until she started thinking like the rational woman he knew she was.
“Haste?” she repeated. “This is not hasty. I’m just really tired of explaining myself.”
“I understand that.” Steed sighed. “I’ve not been very understanding of your pain and I want to try to rectify that.” He slid back into the booth and gestured to the other side of the table. “Let’s start over. Tell me everything you think I should know, and I promise not to judge or make snide comments.”
She folded her arms over her full breasts. Her mouth twisted into a dubious smirk. Steed bit back a grunt. Darci was just too sexy, even more in this case, when she wasn’t trying to be.
“I think a snowball has a better chance in hell than you do of keeping that promise.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior, and if I don’t keep my word, I’ll pay for your lunch.” He smiled. “Deal?”
After what seemed like forever, she returned to the booth. “What do you want to know?”
Why I can’t stop thinking about you. “I think I mostly want to know why you won’t believe Warwick didn’t kill himself,” he said. “You’ve heard and seen the evidence and you’ve seen pictures of after the fact. Why do you still question it?”
“Because I know Kenny.”
Steed fought hard not to roll his eyes and practically bit his tongue to keep from being curt with a response. How well could she have known Warwick if she didn’t know he was capable of killing himself? “Go on,” he said.
“Kenny and I met when we were seven. Thomas, Kenny’s father, got hired as plant manager at Sterling Steel, and they moved to town during the middle of the school year. Kenny was the new kid, braces and overweight, and I was the smart girl, the nerd of the class.”
“I’d heard about Warwick overcoming his chubby years, but you a nerd?”
“It’s true. My parents instilled the importance of education and hard work, and it became important to me.” She smiled. “My folks. A stay-at-home mom who baked cookies for school functions and helped me with homework, and a dad who worked hard to give Mama and me everything we needed and most of the things we wanted. I was an only child, and they gave their all to me, so I figured I could do the same for them.”
“Your parents sound like good people. Chief Rogers seems to think a lot of your father.”
“They’ve been buddies since high school, and Daddy is a wonderful man. He just needs to remember he’s not twenty-five when he gets the hankering to play football.” She chuckled and took a sip of tea. “Anyway, I think being isolated drew Kenny and me together, because we became fast and very close friends and stayed that way for twenty-five years.” Her expression became more serious. “Twenty-five years of laughter and tears, triumphs and tragedies, successes and failures. There was nothing we couldn’t and didn’t tell each other. Nothing. I talked to him almost every day, and saw him more than my folks. We were like this,” Darci crossed her fingers, “until three days ago. I think that gives me a pretty good idea of the person Kenny was,” she said. “He wouldn’t take his own life.”
Steed almost wished he hadn’t asked the question. The passion in Darci’s voice and the determination in her eyes made it clear anything he said contrary to what she believed would go in one ear and out the other. But facts didn’t lie, and the facts showed Kenneth Warwick had killed himself. Somehow, someway, he had to get her to see reason.
“I hope you two are ready to eat,” chimed Miss Sophie, exiting the kitchen carrying two full, steaming plates of food.
Steed waved her over, welcoming the interruption. “I am,” he said, filling his lungs with the mouth-watering aromas Miss Sophie set before them. Maybe a little food and a break from talking about Warwick and his death would do them both some good. At the very least, it would give him time to figure out how he could get Darci off this path that would otherwise lead to more pain.
“You don’t mind if we stop talking about death, murder, and suicide for a little while, do you?” Steed slipped on his puppy dog look. He’d been told by his grandmother and a couple of ex-girlfriends that casting down his eyes and pouting the slightest bit made telling him no impossible to do. He sure hoped that worked now. “I’m starving,” he said.
Darci looked at him for a moment before gazing at the chopped barbecue plate—Miss Sophie’s signature dish. Steed watched her closely. It would be just his luck she’d be immune to his charms.
After what seemed like forever, Darci shrugged. “I guess I could eat a bite or two,” she said, unwrapping the paper napkin holding the silverware.
Steed smiled. She wasn’t immune. “Good,” he said.
“I’m goin’ on back to the kitchen now. It’s usually real quiet here until dinnertime, so y’all will have the place to yourselves.” Miss Sophie flashed a grin that said as much as the gleam in her eyes. The woman was about as subtle as a boulder. “If ya need anything, just holler.”
“We will, Miss Sophie, thank you.”
“All right. Don’t y’all worry about paying for this. Your money ain’t no good today. Just enjoy yourselves.” She gave each a pat on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen.
Darci stuck her fork into the chopped barbecue meat and mixed it with the small mountain of hash and rice on her plate. “Miss Sophie has got the wrong idea about us,” she said.
“Ya think?” Steed laughed, biting into a rib.
“How is it she knows you so well, Detective?”
He chewed and swallowed. “Since we’re not talking about the case right now, you think we can drop the formalities? You can call me Steed.”
Her face scrunched. “About that,” she said. “Is Steed your real name? I’ve never met a man named after a horse.”
He laughed. “Yes, Steed is my real name.”
“There’s got to be a story behind that. I’m named after my parents Darlene and Charles, at least the ‘C’ in Charles, but I don’t understand how you could get a name like Steed.”
“Allow me to explain. When my mother was pregnant, she and Dad made a friendly wager on a horse race. If he won, he got to name me on his own, and if she won, she would get to name me Francis—as in Old Blue Eyes.” He chuckled. “Dad did not want me to be named Francis.”
“I take it your father won the bet.”
“Yeah. But he was a sport about it. He let Mom use the letter “F” as my middle name. It’s an initial, but it worked to keep things harmonious.”
Darci laughed. Steed wondered where she kept this fun side hidden when she wasn’t making his life miserable. If the nerve-wracking Darci hadn’t been in his presence minutes before, he would swear she was a twin or had a clone running around town.
Not Quite Right (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 4
