CAPTURING CLEO

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She was peeking through the new peephole in her door when he caught up with her. “It’s your partner.”

  “Mikey?” He reached past her and unlocked the door, swinging it open.

  Detective Russell was not happy. He stood there in his neat suit and expensive shirt and tie, and glared.

  Caught. “What do you want?”

  Russell didn’t wait to be invited in. He brushed past Luther, glanced at a disheveled Cleo, and groaned.

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” Luther said.

  “You’re not sleeping together?”

  “Okay, it is what it looks like, but I’m going in this morning to take myself off the case.”

  Russell shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

  “I have to.”

  “Remember Willie Lee Webb?”

  Luther nodded, and Cleo moved to his side. “Who’s he?”

  “He was your heckler Friday night,” Russell answered.

  “Did he file a complaint when he picked up his car keys?” Luther asked, running his fingers through his hair to tame it.

  “Not that I know of.” Mikey headed away from the door; Luther and Cleo followed. “Willie Lee Webb was found murdered this morning.”

  “What?”

  “At just after five this morning, his body was found draped around a plastic clown at a fast-food drive-through. Someone had stuffed what appears to be several large orders of French fries down his throat.” He turned to watch Luther and Cleo enter the living room behind him.

  Cleo gasped and automatically leaned into Luther. He placed his arm around her.

  Russell continued. “Someone choked him with French fries. What do you want to bet he was drugged with the same stuff Tempest was, so the deed could be accomplished?”

  “Luther,” Cleo whispered, “oh my God, this is all my fault.”

  “No,” he said, pulling her close. “It’s not.”

  The kid shook his head and groaned again. “You guys can’t do this, not now. I covered your ass this morning when you didn’t turn up at home where you were supposed to be.”

  “Thank you, Mikey.”

  “If you want to thank me,” the kid said sharply, “stop calling me Mikey. And don’t expect me to continue to cover for you.”

  Luther glared at the oddly indignant Russell. “Why didn’t you just call here? Or page me?”

  “Wanted to see for myself if I was right when I guessed where you were.”

  “Great detective work,” Luther said sharply. He had to remind himself that Russell hadn’t done anything wrong. “Like it or not, I have to take myself off the case.”

  Russell shook his head. “You can’t. We’re shorthanded, I haven’t been in homicide long enough to handle a case like this one on my own, and the captain is not going to let his senior detective off what has the potential to be a serial killer case.”

  “Bohannon in burglary...”

  “Is a good cop who has no experience in homicide. Come on, Luther, you know you can’t step down now.”

  Like it or not, Russell was right. Someone had killed twice, and both bizarre murders had come right out of Cleo’s act. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking that maybe Tempest’s murder was committed by someone unrelated to her, someone who chose her as a convenient patsy. The damn grapefruit hadn’t been a red herring, after all.

  His list of suspects had just gotten smaller.

  He looked down at a terrified Cleo. “I’m going to get a twenty-four-hour detail on you. I won’t leave until it’s a done deal and the uniformed officers are here.”

  Russell piped up again. “The captain will never authorize—”

  Luther sent the kid a silencing glance. “For twenty-four hours, he will. By tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone else on bodyguard duty.” He wished Grace wasn’t due to deliver any day. Ray would be perfect for this.

  “Bodyguard?” Cleo said softly.

  Luther turned to her and placed his hands on her face. “‘Round the clock, until this guy is caught.”

  Russell passed them. “I’ll call a unit in from the car, and then I’ll wait. Try not to be too long, Malone.”

  The door slammed behind Russell. When he was gone, Cleo reached up and touched Luther’s face. “You need a shower and a shave. Better hurry.”

  “I’m not leaving until a patrol car gets here.”

  She let herself fall against him, gently and easily. “Now I’m scared,” she confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said. “Jack, that drunk heckler who just wanted to hear some old song...”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She lifted her head and stared up at him with frightened golden eyes. “Will you be with me tonight?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “I didn’t ask if you should.”

  He brushed a curling strand away from her face. Who was he kidding? Staying away from her would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I’ll be at the club this afternoon, as soon as I can. If nothing else, we have to keep putting on a show for your secret admirer.” He let his fingers tangle in her hair.

  “And when the show is over?” she pressed.

  He didn’t like this, he didn’t want this, but what choice did he have? “We’re going to have to put what’s happening with us on hold until the investigation is over.”

  She obviously didn’t like the idea any more than he did, but she nodded and sighed in acceptance.

  “Hurry up and find this guy, will you, Malone?” she said, not nearly as brusquely as she obviously intended.

  “Count on it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Crime scene tape and well-positioned patrol cars with dashing lights kept the public away from the area. Good thing they’d gotten to the victim before the television stations and newspaper arrived. This was not a picture anyone wanted on the front page or the noon news.

  Luther stood back and studied what was left of Willie Lee Webb, while crime scene photographs were taken. Webb had been draped around the plastic clown and tied in place with sturdy rope. His legs and arms were in unnatural positions, so he’d most likely been unconscious or already dead when he’d been placed here. A few fries peeked out from Webb’s mouth, a hint at the bizarre murder method.

  Most murders were cut and dried. Robbery, crime of passion, execution. This was different. He thought he’d seen everything, but this gave him a serious case of the creeps.

  Russell stepped up beside Luther. “Sorry I lost my cool earlier,” the kid said, calmer than he’d been when he’d come to Cleo’s door.

  “You had good reason,” Luther said, his eyes never leaving Webb.

  “I was just surprised, that’s all,” Russell explained. “I always thought of you as a strictly by-the-book cop.”

  “I am,” Luther muttered. “Usually.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a peppermint, played with it a moment and then dropped it back into the pocket. “It’s not what you think.”

  Russell sighed, and Luther turned his head to look at his young, optimistic, gung-ho partner. Yeah, Mikey was just a kid.

  “It’s never happened before,” Luther said. “I don’t make a habit of getting involved with women who are a part of a murder investigation.” It was the cardinal rule, the one he’d never thought he’d even be tempted to break. What was happening with Cleo wasn’t casual or careless. It was so much more than that.

  The kid scoffed. “You’re gonna marry her?” he said sarcastically.

  Luther returned his attention to the body. The crime scene techs were almost finished. Married? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t been able to think past the fact that Cleo was somehow different. That she’d crept beneath his skin and would be there always. It wasn’t like him to be so sentimental, to think about a woman when he had work to do. Webb had a family. Co-workers. Neighbors. Even though Luther knew this murder was related to Cleo, somehow he had to cover all the bases.

  �
��That’s what I figured,” Russell said, taking Luther’s silence as a negative response. “You know, she’s a nice lady. You shouldn’t take advantage of her like—”

  Luther snapped his head around. Russell stood there, indignant and righteous and stiff-spined. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried about Cleo. You think I’m taking advantage of her.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You expect me to believe this thing with her is serious?”

  Photographs done, evidence collected, the techs began to untie the latest murder victim. “Ask me again after we catch this guy.”

  Luther stood back and watched as Webb was bagged and tagged. Russell knew him well enough to keep his mouth shut while the wheels turned. Webb’s death changed the focus of the investigation. There was no longer any reason to look at Randi Rayner, Tempest’s business associates, or musicians he’d cheated out of their rights the way he’d cheated Cleo.

  Someone was killing the men who hurt her. Jack, with his constant harassment, and Webb with his unkind words. The method of murder in both cases said I’m doing this for you. Sooner or later the killer would expect Cleo to thank him for his work. That realization scared the crap out of Luther.

  Both murders had taken place on a Sunday night. The murderer had been in the club on Friday. He’d witnessed Webb heckling Cleo.

  “Compare their phone records,” he ordered. Tempest had gotten several calls on Sunday afternoon. One had been from a pay phone not far from the building he’d been thrown from. All the other calls had been traced to business associates and personal friends. “See if Webb got a call from a pay phone last night.”

  Russell nodded, taking mental notes.

  “I don’t want the coroner dragging his feet on this one,” Luther said. “I’m not going to wait days for the results this time. This case gets priority. If I have to stand over him—”

  “Got it,” Russell said.

  “I want to talk to Eric and Edgar this afternoon. Not at the club. I want them downtown where I can make them sweat.”

  “Do you really think—”

  “I think we can’t rule them out.” Even though Cleo had told him the truth about the alibi her friends had provided for her, and for themselves, they were sticking to their story. When Jack had been killed, Edgar was cleaning the bar and Eric was practicing on Cleo’s piano. Luther didn’t believe either one of them.

  The only other possibility was that the killer was a stranger. Someone who sat in Cleo’s club and fabricated a relationship with her. Luther didn’t care for that possibility: if that was the case and the secret admirer simply disappeared, they might never catch him.

  Cleo jumped when the door opened, as she’d jumped all evening every time a customer entered the club. Monday nights weren’t the busiest, but she usually had a decent crowd in here six nights a week. Lately, she’d been looking at all her regular male customers and wondering… is it him?

  Watching Luther walk into the club, so at home here and so undeniably beautiful, eased her heart and made her smile for the first time today. He headed first for the cop that was seated in the corner. A word or two from Luther, and her guardian for the day was dismissed.

  When Luther turned and came toward her, their eyes met and her heart melted. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until now. How did a man become so important so fast?

  “How are you?” he asked as he reached her.

  “Better, now.”

  He placed his hands on her face and kissed her, once quickly, and then more deeply. The touch of his mouth on hers was a relief, and more. She needed it. Craved it. How had she made it through the day without this touch?

  “Just for show,” he said unconvincingly as he took his mouth from hers. “People are watching.”

  “How was your day?”

  His eyes darkened. “I got nothing from Webb’s family and acquaintances, but then I didn’t expect to. We know who did this.”

  She shivered, and he answered by placing his large hands on her upper arms and stroking gently, warming and soothing her. “I understand you spoke with Eric and Edgar this afternoon?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  They had told her all about it, indignant that their alibi was being questioned, incensed that Luther thought either of them would dare to frighten her. They’d both confessed that they had no alibi for last night. Both had been home alone. But they’d been here when Jack was murdered. They’d both told her so, and she believed them.

  “Why would you suspect my friends? They would never—”

  “I can’t talk about this,” Luther said gruffly. “Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer.”

  She rested her head against his chest. “All right,” she said gently, accepting his limitations easily as her cheek settled against the crisp whiteness of his shirt. Maybe it was good for the show for her to reach for Luther this way, but that’s not why she listed into him and held on. She needed this. Needing Luther, needing any man, frightened her. She’d guarded her heart for so long. Why did she capitulate now?

  “I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet box.

  Cleo backed up slightly and touched her fingertips to the soft case. “This box is much smaller than the one the coffee-maker came in.”

  “Yes, it is.” The velvety box remained on his palm, offered and waiting. “I was going to give it to you on Valentine’s Day, but...” He hesitated, and even in the dim light she could swear he blushed. “I couldn’t wait.”

  She opened the box, expecting anything, and still her heart jumped when she saw the pendant inside. A gold treble clef studded with diamonds hung from a delicate chain.

  “They had lots of hearts,” Luther said, his voice too low for anyone listening to hear. “But I saw this and it reminded me of you.”

  “It’s beautiful. And perfect.” She would not cry, not over something like this! She fought back the tears. “Put it on.” She spun around and lifted her hair, taking the time to gather her wits about her while her back was to Luther. She only sniffled once, very softly, as he fastened the chain around her neck.

  When she turned back around, calm and dry-eyed, he reached out and picked up the diamond-studded treble clef that hung on her chest, the backs of his fingers brushing familiarly against her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love it. I have something for you, too.”

  Luther’s smile faded. “Uh-oh.”

  Cleo grinned and signaled Edgar with a wave of her hand. The bartender knew what she wanted, reached beneath the bar for the purple-foil wrapped box and placed it on the counter. Instead of carrying it to them, he gave it a shove that sent it sliding down the bar. Cleo stopped the sliding package with her hand.

  “Don’t you trust me?” she teased.

  “Let’s see,” Luther muttered. “Cherry-red tie, purple shirt. I’m terrified of what might be in that box.” He unwrapped it anyway, and lifted the lid cautiously. He peeked inside, then replaced the lid quickly.

  “Aren’t you going to study your gift more carefully?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Malone. It’ll be great for the show.”

  He sighed and flipped the lid off. Using only two fingers, he lifted the silk boxers. “The hearts match my new tie.”

  “I know,” she said with a grin. “There’s another pair in there.”

  “I’m afraid to look,” he said, glancing into the box. “Hmm. I didn’t know they even made cowboy underwear for grown men.”

  “See?” Cleo said, lifting out the second pair of boxers. “Little sheriff’s stars, and six-shooters, and horses...”

  “Put that back,” he ordered gently. “People are watching.”

  Cleo dutifully laid the silk cowboy boxers in the box, and Luther dropped the gray silk boxers with the red hearts on top, replacing the lid as quickly as possible.

  “I wish you were going to stay with me tonight,”
she whispered, fiddling with the pendant Luther had given her.

  “So do I.” He reached out to run his fingers through her hair, barely touching a long curling strand. “But until this is over...”

  “I understand.” She leaned in so close, her nose was almost on his shoulder. She felt the heat radiating off his body, and closed her eyes as she breathed deep and he filled her. His scent was arousing and she remembered, too well, what it was like to have him close. Closer than this. Closer than anyone had been in a very long time.

  “I want you to know something,” she whispered. Her heart climbed into her throat, but this was important. He needed to know, and she needed to confess. It had been so long since she’d trusted anyone with the truth, letting it go was more difficult than she’d imagined. “I haven’t been with anyone since the divorce. Not until last night.” Luther said nothing, but his hand settled more firmly in her hair.

  “For a long time, I didn’t trust any man enough to let him that close. If you’re just...” Her heart clenched. She couldn’t bear it if he didn’t feel the same way she did, if she was nothing more than a quick, convenient lay. But she had to know. “If this is just...”

  “It’s not just anything,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t like waiting, but dammit Cleo, I want to do this right.”

  She smiled and rested against his shoulder, her cheek against his conservative dark jacket, her hands settling on his waist.

  “Right is good.” She hadn’t had anything right in her life in so long, would she recognize it? Appreciate it properly? Yeah, as long as Luther was a part of that right she would love it. She would love him.

  She hadn’t thought she’d ever love anyone again, and what she felt now scared her. But she also knew, without reservation, that it was worth the risk. She would risk her heart, her life, her soul, for the rightness Luther promised. “Will you break all the rules and stay with me tonight?” she asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

  Luther shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll take you home, but I can’t stay.”

  She sighed.

  “I’ve hired someone to keep an eye on the house overnight. You’ll be safe.”