What had Tim Pinter been doing here? He'd had a toolbox. Had he tried to install bugs? For now that would have to wait. I started with the light fixtures in the kitchen, taking them apart and looking them over. I didn't find anything there. Or in the living room. Or the hallway. I went through every drawer and lightbulb socket in the bathroom and both bedrooms but came away empty-handed.
Alright. So he wasn't here to spy on me. What else? The theory was that this guy had killed Dewey Barnes, so my next thought was that maybe he'd come to kill me. But how would he have done that? Most likely he had been planning to lie in wait and shoot or stab me. There's the possibility that he'd have attempted to strangle me, but that didn't seem likely. It took a lot of strength and stamina to strangle someone. And with me being a former spy, he'd know I'd fight back.
No, if he was going to ambush me, he'd shoot. That method was good for maintaining a distance from the victim and not getting as much blood on you. If he'd tried to stab me, he'd have to get close, risking combat. And there'd be blood. Everywhere.
Okay, so if he was after me, he was going to shoot me. But why set up in the guest room? I never went in there. Riley had stayed in that room from time to time, with and without my permission. But I rarely so much as opened that door.
He could be a moron. That might explain why he'd been fired by the CIA. Or he'd been planning to kill me in my sleep. Something like that took patience though. He wouldn't have known I was across the street. He'd have been there a very long time.
I wandered the house for an hour, trying to see if there was anything he'd left behind that would tell me what was going on. It would've been nice to have dropped a digital recorder with a complete monologue of what he'd intended to do, or left behind notes of some sort. Unfortunately, there was nothing.
I examined the guest room. Oh sure, I knew that if there'd been so much as an expended cartridge or anything larger than a piece of lint, Rex would've taken it. I crawled through the closet, shoving aside my winter clothes. I looked under my bed, but other than thwarting an assault from a rabid pack of dust bunnies, I found zip. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
This was driving me crazy. I'd been shut out of Rex's investigation. The CIA agents here in town were avoiding me, and neither Maria nor Riley were accepting or returning my calls. I'd never been so much in the dark in my whole career.
It would have been nice to just wash my hands of the whole matter and let everyone else deal with this…whatever this was. But that was absurd. I needed to know if I was in mortal danger. I needed to know why there was a movie flaunting all the details of my career. And I needed to know exactly what my former employer had in store for me.
I collapsed on my bed and tuned into my surroundings. It was quiet. No cats howling or depositing mice in the bathroom. The TV wasn't on. It was just quiet. I stared at the ceiling and turned this puzzle around in my head over and over, but with the same result each time. I had nothing.
So I got up and looked for anything I'd forgotten to take to Rex's house. I came up with a jacket, a couple of T-shirts and sweaters, and Philby's pills. Poor cat. I'd forgotten to bring her meds, and I'd forgotten to feed her last night. No wonder she'd wanted to sleep with Rex. I couldn't blame her.
I carried the stuff back to Rex's house, grabbed my car keys, and drove off. I couldn't stay here staring at my house and waiting for someone to kill me. Besides, I needed to pick up some junk food for Rex's fridge. No way was I staying there with all that healthy stuff.
I usually went to Clinton's Grocery at the west end of town but today decided to shake things up and go to Marlowe's. Yes, Who's There, Iowa had two grocery stores. And people either went to one or the other. But no one ever went to both.
My parents were Clinton's people. Kelly's family shopped at Marlowe's. It was so strange how I hadn't ever set foot in Marlowe's. But today was the day. I needed a change of place. It might as well come in the form of visiting the "wrong" grocery store.
I pulled into the parking lot and got out. Marlowe's had a very different vibe to it. The setup was like a big store with side-by-side checkout registers. Produce was the first section you entered, and you ended up in the bakery. It was like shopping on a different planet.
My cart was full after I got the hang of the place. I liked it. I'd have to shop there again…I just had to make sure my parents didn't find out. Or Kelly. Marlowe's people liked to gloat when you changed stores.
I was just putting a couple packages of Oreos into my cart when I heard a man's voice on the other side of the aisle. I knew that voice. It was Riley. I'd heard it, in every accent and language, almost every day of my life in the CIA.
Letting go of the cart, I ran down the aisle, skidding across one area where someone had mopped. I turned the corner just in time to see a flash of blond disappear to my left. I ran a few feet to my left, but he wasn't in that aisle. I raced to the next one, but he wasn't there either.
"Miss?" A stock boy had hold of my cart and was shoving it toward me. "You forgot your stuff. We aren't allowed to have unaccompanied carts in the aisles."
I didn't have time for this. "I just need to grab something from the other end of the aisle. Give me a moment, and I'll be back," I shouted as I ran away from him down the other aisle.
"But, ma'am!" he shouted.
I ignored him. As I rounded the end of the aisle, I collided with someone, and we both fell to the floor. I was on top of Riley Andrews. He wasn't going anywhere.
"What the hell?"
I couldn't say much more because Riley threw me off of him and started to get to his feet. Lying on my side, I swept my left leg under him, and he crashed to the floor. This time I flipped him onto his stomach and yanked his arm hard up behind him.
To his credit, he didn't cry out.
"Get off of me, Merry!" He squirmed beneath me.
A crowd had formed. Anxious shoppers looked like they were trying to figure out what to do. I got up and dragged Riley to his feet.
"Are you alright, lady?" a little boy in a Scout uniform asked me. He had to be eight or nine, but he looked like he was going to take Riley out if I answered in the negative. Which was totally adorable.
"Yeah. Fine. Sorry. We were just arguing about the ketchup."
People looked at each other confused.
"I'm a loyal Heinz fan. Go, Heinz!" I cheered as I dragged Riley around the corner to where the stock boy was waiting with my cart.
"Thanks," I said to the boy. He shook his head and walked away.
No one saw as I slammed Riley up against the canned goods. "You are in big trouble."
"Merry, I…" he started.
I interrupted, pulling him down the aisle with one arm and pushing my cart with the other. "You are coming with me now. You will not struggle or escape. In fact—" I eyed the cart. "You are paying for my groceries."
Riley acted like nothing was wrong as he paid for six packages of cookies, four bottles of wine, two cans of squeezy cheese, two boxes of cheddar crackers, a box of cereal that largely consisted of sugar, and several boxes of Twinkies. I even made him load the car.
I was furious and relieved at the same time. On the one hand, Riley really was here. I'd seen him, and he'd avoided me. And he hadn't taken my calls. On the other hand, Riley was here. Someone connected with the CIA. He could help me by handling all this unwanted Agency attention.
"I wanted to tell you," Riley said once we were buckled into our seats.
"Why didn't you? You've been here all this time, and you never let me know. In fact you wanted me to think I was crazy and hallucinating."
He shook his head. And that's when I noticed his hair was short. Really short. Riley had always rocked a surfer vibe with thick, wavy blond hair just a bit longer than was allowed.
"You cut your hair!" I accused.
"I know this looks bad," he said as he ran his hand through what was left, "but I can explain."
I folded my arms over my chest. "Well?"
Riley's eyes darted a
round the parking lot. "Not here. Somewhere else."
"Do you honestly think they bugged Marlowe's? Impossible! I've never shopped here before today, so the joke is on them!"
"I'm more worried about being watched than overheard."
I thought about this for a moment. We couldn't go to my house because I'd already done that and didn't want to run the risk of Rex finding out. And we couldn't go to Rex's house because that seemed…inappropriate somehow.
"Okay," I growled as I slid the key into the ignition. "I'll take us somewhere private. But you are going to spill it when we get there."
"Agreed." Riley seemed relaxed, but he scanned our surroundings as I drove across town to a playground.
"Here?" Riley asked. "Why here?"
"Because no one would ever think of looking for either of us here." I shut off the engine and locked the doors. Just in case.
"So." I turned toward him. "What do you have to tell me? And remember, I have a mean right cross."
Would I have hit him? Probably not. But I was really mad. His excuse had better be good.
Riley moved to run his hands through his hair—a gesture I'd seen at least a million times. Unfortunately his hair was too short to do so now, so he stopped in mid-gesture and turned to look at me.
To be completely honest, he didn't look half bad with shorter hair. It somehow made his eyes look even larger.
"Okay," he said with a little shake of his head, "I'll tell you what's going on. I'm not here at the behest of the Agency."
"Oh," I said quietly. "So you're here because…why, exactly?"
Riley frowned, and I realized he was starting to develop frown lines between his brows. Wow. That was telling. This guy took better care of his skin than I did. Something's been eating away at him.
"Well…" He started fiddling with his shirt. This was a red flag also as Riley never fiddled with anything. The man oozed confidence. "I think I might be the cause of the movie leak."
You could've knocked me over with a butterfly's wing. Riley was the reason for the movie? Now I really wanted to hit him.
"This is your fault? You put my whole life up there on the big screen? Are you nuts?"
He held up his hands defensively, but I wasn't going to deck him…yet.
"It's maybe possible that some of my notes have disappeared."
"You're saying that a few notes are missing?" I crushed the steering wheel between my fingers. "Riley! That was my whole career in that movie! I think 'some of your notes' doesn't cut it!"
"I know." He chewed on his lip—another completely bizarre thing for him to do. "I'm not really sure how it happened. I thought everything was locked up."
"What? Did you keep your notes under your pillow? And why did you even have those notes? All of these cases are still classified!"
"Um…well…that's a very good question…" He stared off at the playground.
"And the answer is?"
He shrugged. He actually shrugged. My life and career were falling apart in an episode that one critic called "the most unrealistic movie ever," and he shrugged.
"Why hide from me?"
Riley ran his hands through his now very short hair. "I wanted to see if you were behind this."
I put the car in gear and backed out of the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" my former handler asked.
"To Rex's house. I have a lot of questions, and I'm sure the police do too." I pulled out onto the street. "But I think the Agency is watching the police, so we're going to the one place I think we might be safe."
To his credit, Riley didn't argue. He just sat there in the passenger seat, eyes on the road, as I drove. We pulled into the alley behind Rex's house minutes later, and I made him bring in the groceries.
Philby and Martini came running and, when they saw Riley, rubbed against his leg, moaning loudly. For the first time, I saw him smile as he bent down and scooped up the cats. Either he'd missed them, or he figured I wouldn't punch him if he was holding twenty pounds of adorable.
He was right. I led him into the living room and pointed at the couch. He sat. Then I sat in the chair facing him. I was pretty pissed off. There was no way I was going to give him a chance to use his charms on me.
That tactic had worked before. I wasn't going to give in to them this time.
"Talk," I said.
Riley gave a loud sigh, and the cats looked up at him expectantly. He stroked their little heads until both cats were asleep on either side of him.
"Now," I insisted.
"I'd made a few notes about our experiences in the field."
"Why would you do that?" I asked. "You know we can't do anything with that intel. It's classified for, like, ever."
"I'd kind of thought that maybe someday I'd write a book," he muttered.
CHAPTER TEN
"You what?"
My cell buzzed. I was about to turn it off, in light of the huge disagreement Riley and I were about to have, when I saw the text message: Leaving now to drop Finn off.
Oh crap. I forgot I was supposed to babysit Finn today. I couldn't back out. Kelly really needed a break.
"You have to go." I got up and pulled Riley off the sofa. Philby and Martini woke up and complained loudly. "We will resume this later. But I'm babysitting Finn in a few minutes, and I don't want our goddaughter to see us fighting."
"Fine." Riley sniffed. "I'll go to your house."
I was about to protest, but then realizing that he'd have to sleep on a mattress full of bullet holes seemed strangely satisfying, so I handed him a key.
"When I'm done"—I glowered at him—"you're coming back here and explaining this to me."
Riley said nothing. He just walked out the front door of Rex's house and into the front door of mine. I heard the door slam just as Kelly pulled up.
I ran outside, shoving all of my anger aside and pasting on a smile. Kelly got out and handed me my sleeping namesake, still in her carrier. All of my fury melted away, and my heart was filled with warm, fuzzy thoughts. Finn was so adorable! I'd show her and her mother that I could handle responsibility. Riley could stew across the street. He could wait. I needed a few hours with this baby.
"Hold on." Kelly walked around to the trunk. "I've got the rest of the stuff."
Rest of the stuff? Oh. She was talking about bottles and that kind of thing. That would be easy too. I'd googled formula and found out the ratio to mix is on the container. In fact I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Whatever else she had in the car, I could handle it.
I was wrong.
Kelly pulled out a pink bag that looked like something a soldier would take with him on a two-year international assignment. I wasn't even sure I could lift it. Okay, I could handle that. She was just being thorough. I probably wouldn't need it much.
"Here's her special chair." Kelly grunted as she lifted something that looked like fabric flung across two bent wires. "I usually feed her in this. Just don't set the vibration too high or she'll spit up."
Vibration?
A long, large basket came next. It was white wicker and had a little mattress inside.
"She sleeps in this." Kelly set it on the sidewalk next to the other stuff.
"She can't just sleep in her car seat thingy?" I asked.
"Is that a baby?" I hadn't noticed that Ethel, the old deaf lady next door, had joined us.
"She's sleeping!" I hissed.
"Ethel?" Elmer called from inside the house. "Someone stole my pants!" He stepped out on the stoop wearing boxers and a T-shirt.
In spite of the fact she was sleeping, I covered Finn's little eyes, thus demonstrating to Kelly that I was responsible.
"It's a baby!" Ethel clapped her hands together in glee.
"I'll come out…" Elmer started down the steps toward us.
I scooped up the giant pink bag in one hand and, with the baby in the other, fled into the house. I set the carrier down and did the fastest run ever to the sidewalk to get the chair and basket. Kelly had a
lready driven away. Apparently, she didn't want to see Elmer and his missing pants.
By the time I got back inside, Philby and Martini were sitting next to the carrier staring at Finn, who was fortunately still asleep. These three had been acquainted for some time, but the cats looked confused that the baby was on their turf.
"Let her be, guys," I whispered as I gently lifted the carrier and put it on the dining room table.
Philby jumped up beside the baby while Martini found a sunny spot on the floor and passed out.
"Kelly won't be back for a few hours," I told the cat for some reason. "We need to take good care of Finn, okay?"
I wasn't sure why I was asking my cat to do this. But hey, she was a mom. Maybe she'd had some experience in this area. Not that I needed any help. The baby was snoozing peacefully and would probably stay that way until Kelly returned. Easy.
Philby walked over to the giant pink bag and sniffed gingerly. Which peaked my curiosity. What was in there that was so important that Finn couldn't be without it for even two hours?
After a glance at the baby to make sure she was still asleep, I sat down on the floor next to Philby and unzipped the bag. It was packed so tightly that it burst open. Dozens of tiny diapers, two huge boxes of wet wipes, one large canister of formula, a gallon of distilled nursery water, and ten baby bottles popped out of the opening.
Take a deep breath, Wrath. You'll be fine.
I picked up one of the diapers. At least these were disposable. I don't know what I'd do if they were cloth. I opened it up and saw that one side had little tape thingies and there was elastic around the leg holes. But how did it go on the baby? With the tape in front or back? I gave Philby a look.
She didn't go anywhere. In fact she just lay there on her back as I proceeded to put the diaper on her. Hmmm…the tail would be a problem. Jumping to my feet, I ran into the kitchen and returned with scissors. I cut a hole on both sides that I thought would be generous enough and reapplied the diaper to my cat.
Philby made no complaint. Either she understood that with her help a major crisis would be narrowly avoided, or she was plotting my murder in the middle of the night. It only took a few tries to realize that the diaper worked best with the tabs in the back. Philby stood, and after arching her back, strutted around the house wearing the diaper—her tail flicking wildly back and forth.
Mud Run Murder Page 8
