Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  She pulled her attention away from him and focused on Harold. After all, he was her story. “What places have you visited in your efforts to help people?”

  He talked while she listened and tried to remember all the places he said he’d been so she could follow up and find out if he’d pulled any cons in those places, but it was hard to remember them all without her recorder or her notebook.

  She was concentrating on Harold as she forked up some grains of rice, but her attention strayed when she saw the scruffy old guy at the next table pull a small blue notepad from his pocket and open it before him.

  “Oh!” Jo gasped, got a throatful of rice, and began to cough. Grains of rice spewed across the table just as Harold leaped to his feet and swept his plate out of the way.

  Hurriedly, he checked to see if she’d managed to soil his jacket, or his dinner, then he glanced at her. “Jo, are you all right, my dear?”

  Jo, choking for air, swiping water from her eyes, and grabbing for her cup of tea, could only nod and croak, “Fine, Harold. I’m fi-fine.”

  Belatedly, he came around the table to lean over her and pat her solicitously on the back. The people nearby were staring, including the grizzled old guy at the nearest table, who gifted her with a wink from one of his dark brown eyes.

  While Harold was patting her back, Jo lifted her head and glared. Case Houston. She didn’t know why she was surprised. He’d been worried that she couldn’t do this, so he’d shown up to keep an eye on her.

  Well, that was fine, she thought furiously. That was just fine. He had his little notepad out and he could take notes to his heart’s content while she pumped information out of Harold for all she was worth.

  But later, Case had better be ready for an earful!

  Harold reassured the people around her that she was all right, but he paused when he saw Case and gave him a long look.

  Case responded to Harold’s scrutiny with a slow nod, hid his small notepad with one hand, and reached for his water with the other. Still, Harold stared at him.

  Alarmed, Jo patted her chest and by some odd quirk, several of her buttons came undone. “Thank you, again, Harold,” she said in a breathy tone that pulled his attention away from Case.

  At the next table, her partner’s eyes narrowed, but when Harold sat down across from her, his widened appreciatively.

  “My goodness,” she said, batting her eyelashes and fanning herself with her napkin. She tilted her head and smiled her most winning smile. “I don’t know what came over me. Thank you, Harold, I think you probably saved my life. I might have choked to death if you hadn’t been there to save me.”

  He lifted his hands as if to deflect her gratitude. “Think nothing of it, Jo. I’m honored to be the one here to help you out when you need it.”

  “Yes,” she sighed as if he was a gift straight from the gods. “I was wondering, though, if you could do one more tiny favor for me?”

  “Anything. Anything at all.”

  “Could you ask the waitress for some more ice water? With lots of ice? I feel quite…flushed.” She ran her fingertip down her throat and into the V created by the open buttons. Another worked itself free.

  Harold’s eyes nearly popped from his head. “Certainly.” He nodded and signaled for the waitress. While his head was turned, Jo wrinkled her nose at Case, who lifted a dusty gray eyebrow at her. Grumpily she wondered if those were his eyebrows or if he’d given a trim to someone’s sheepdog.

  When the ice water arrived, she drank some, then fished a piece of ice out of the glass and popped it into her mouth. Pursing her lips around it, she said, “Now, what were you telling me about all the places you’ve been, Harold?”

  8

  WHAT MAN COULD RESIST such an eager and appreciative audience? Jo knew she was hitting the right note with him when he launched into a travelogue of the places he’d been. Behind his shoulder, she glimpsed Case busily writing down everything Harold said.

  She hoped it helped in the investigation, and she knew the information would be helpful for her as well when it came time to flesh out her story on Harold.

  Still, it rankled that Case had followed her and was actually getting the information that she, the reporter, was supposed to get.

  Jo and Harold both finished their dinners during his monologue. She was amazed to see that anyone could talk, eat, and project that much charisma all at the same time. She thought it must have taken years of practice before a mirror.

  For her part, she’d had no practice in the art of being a brainless femme fatale, so she had to constantly remind herself to look absorbed by what he was saying, moisten her lips occasionally with her tongue, suck provocatively on ice from her water glass, and give him occasional glimpses of her peekaboo buttons. It was exhausting. If she had to do this every evening, she would need a nap each afternoon. However, it was worth it because it kept Harold’s attention firmly fixed on her and he didn’t notice what the man behind him was doing.

  Case was going to owe her big-time for this one.

  As they sipped green tea, Harold turned his laser-blue eyes on her. “What about you, Jo?” he asked. “It must be hard for a woman of your obvious intelligence and talent to stay here in this little town.”

  “Oh,” she said breathlessly. “It is.”

  “I doubt that there are many men who appreciate what a treasure you are.” His eyes were all but glued to her cleavage, telling her exactly what treasure he meant.

  She lowered her eyes demurely. “You have no idea, Harold, how difficult it is, but it’s wonderful to have someone like you to appreciate me.”

  Case looked up and rolled his eyes. Jo ignored him.

  “Especially after that cad, what was his name? Steve? Yes, Steve, after he dumped you so callously.”

  “It did hurt, Harold,” she admitted, tightening her lips in a show of bravery and batting her eyelashes.

  Case held his nose. She looked away. Harold reached to cover her hand with his. “You have such courage,” he said. “What about that rather dim-witted young man who seems to be so taken with you?”

  She gave a theatrical sigh. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we have many odd characters here in Calamity Falls, with strange and unusual interests. Case’s is the strangest of all and many of us are trying to help him overcome his obsession with…” She stopped as if she were embarrassed.

  Harold began to stroke her hand. “What is his obsession?” He leaned forward, projecting warmth and inviting her to confide in him.

  Jo sighed. “You see, he’s afraid he’s never going to measure up.” Feigning embarrassment, she looked away. “He’s heard that there are certain things a woman wants in a man and well, frankly, he just doesn’t have what it takes.”

  Harold was all but kneading the skin off her hand. “Most distressing.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” Her free hand fluttered up to cover her eyes. From beneath its protection, she could see Case glaring at her in outrage.

  “You’re a good woman to take on his worries and try to reassure him. But, you know, my dear, sometimes there are things that can be done. Medical procedures and such.”

  She turned grateful eyes on him. “Do you really think so, Harold? That’s comforting because so many of us are worried about Case and his obsession with…” She rolled her eyes apologetically.

  Case nearly fell out of his chair in his effort to hear her breathy response. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Harold’s as she said, “Facial hair.”

  Harold stared. Case gave her a dirty look. Jo smiled sweetly.

  “FACIAL HAIR?” Case was seething. “You told him I don’t measure up in the area of facial hair?”

  He’d accosted her as soon as they met outside Purdy’s house. Several people had been waiting for Harold when they had arrived, and he had hurried to invite them inside. Jo was following them into the house when Case slipped out of the darkness and pulled her aside.

  He’d ditched his dirty-old-man disguise, probably
in the nearest trash can, she thought, and was dressed in his usual black outfit, biker boots and leather bomber jacket. He’d combed his hair by running his fingers through it several times so that it looked ruffled and messy and infuriatingly irresistible.

  She shrugged innocently. “I was sitting there looking at that dog’s ruff of hair around your face and it was the only thing I could think of.”

  “Next time, think harder.” He ran his hand over his smooth jaw and said, “I told you he wouldn’t talk into that tape recorder. He doesn’t want to leave a trail of information behind him anywhere he goes. That’s how he’s stayed in business, by leaving as little evidence behind as possible.”

  “So you felt like you had to show up and take notes?” she whispered. She’d been put out with him almost constantly since they’d met. Now she was incensed. Grasping his arm, she pulled him into the shadows at the corner of the house and said, “I was handling things just fine, thank you. I didn’t need you to cover me.”

  “Oh, really? You were able to instantly memorize everything he said?”

  Jo didn’t answer since they both knew she hadn’t, but she lifted her chin anyway, thinking that if all else failed, she at least had bravado. “I was doing my best.”

  Case tapped the front of his jacket to indicate where he kept his notepad. “I’m sure you were, but now I’ve got a list of every place he’s been in the past few years, so I can check out what he’s been doing.”

  “We’ve got the list,” she said pointedly. “If you think you’re going to keep me out of this story now…”

  “No, I’m not going to do that,” he answered with an impatient little slicing gesture of his hand. “Not now that we’re getting close to the truth.”

  “If he was telling the truth.” That had occurred to her while she’d been breathlessly questioning Harold and he’d been ogling her.

  “Honey, no man could lie when faced with the possibility of getting you to sleep with him,” Case said dryly, and even in the near blackness of the shadows she could see his ferocious scowl.

  She clapped her hands onto her hips. “Sleep with him? Oh, please! That is so lame.”

  “Is it? Then what was the signal you were trying to give him by airing out your cleavage for him?” He did an imitation of her fanning herself and his voice took on a falsetto note. “‘I feel so flushed, Harold, darling. Could you pour some ice water right here between my breasts?”’

  Heat rushed into her face. “I said no such thing. For your information, I was trying to distract him from looking at you and seeing who you really were.”

  “He wouldn’t have known. It was a good disguise.”

  “Yeah, if you can believe anyone would actually choose to look like a sheepdog.”

  “It was the best I could do on short notice, and it was all the thrift store had on hand. Apparently, you shop there on better days than I do.”

  “Well, here’s something you can take back to them,” she said, reaching up and tugging at his eyebrows, which were still frosted with gray.

  “Ouch!” His hand grabbed for her wrist.

  The stuff wouldn’t come off. “Case, what did you do? Glue something to your own eyebrows?”

  “Yeah, I trimmed that fake beard I got and used rubber cement to stick it on my eyebrows,” he said. “Worked pretty good, too.”

  “Except that you didn’t get it all out and everyone’s going to see something’s fishy once we get inside.”

  “Nah,” he answered in a peeved tone as he brushed at his eyebrows. “They’ll just think it’s all part of my obsession with facial hair.”

  Jo fought a grin. “Since I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping you learn to control the obsession, lean down here and let me get that stuff out.”

  Reluctantly, Case lowered his head so she could pick out the remaining fragments of artificial hair and glue. His breath hissed in with each bit she pulled. “Ow! Hey, I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

  “Oh, quit being such a baby,” she scolded. “I thought investigators like you would know how to do a better disguise than this.”

  “What the hell makes you think I’ve ever needed a disguise before? This is new for me. Everything’s new for me since I met you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, finishing the trimming job.

  “Jo, is that you?” A cautious voice spoke in the darkness, followed by scurrying footsteps. A small woman dressed in mechanic’s coveralls came out of the darkness. She was a fierce-looking little thing with short white hair that stood up around her head in a crazed sort of halo.

  “Starina,” Jo said, startled. “Hello.”

  Starina came up close and squinted at them. “What are you doing to this guy? Is he bothering you? Need some help taking care of him? I’ve got a monkey wrench that’ll put a goose egg on his head the size of Nebraska.” She hefted it and waved it menacingly.

  Case held up his hands and stepped back. “Whoa, there. Jo, call her off.”

  “It’s okay, Starina, he’s a friend of mine—in a manner of speaking,” Jo murmured. She introduced the two people who regarded each other warily.

  “Hmph,” Starina said. “You here to listen to what His Royal Fakiness has to say?” she asked, nodding toward Harold’s house.

  “Yes.” Jo exchanged a glance with Case. “What makes you think he’s a fake?”

  “I’ve tried to have a few conversations with him, but he doesn’t have anything to say worth listening to. Doesn’t know beans about science. He travels light, too. Doesn’t even own so much as a hammer.” Her voice was ripe with disgust.

  Case looked to Jo for an explanation, but she held up her hand to forestall his questions. “I see. Starina, what else have you noticed about him?”

  “I’ve heard strange noises coming from this place late at night.”

  “Strange?” Case asked. “In what way?”

  “Sounded like ripping wood.” She leaned close. “And I say, why’s he working with wood over here if he claims not to have any tools? He had to come over and borrow my crowbar.”

  Case and Jo exchanged glances, but before they could ask any more, Charlotte Quail called from the front porch steps.

  “Jo?” The older woman squinted into the shadows, searching for them. “Are you and your friend coming in?”

  “Uh, yes, Charlotte,” Jo called back. “We’ll be right there. We wouldn’t miss Professor Purdy’s talk for anything.”

  Starina snorted derisively and headed back to her own house next door. “Darned fools,” she muttered as she went.

  Jo and Case hurried around to join Charlotte.

  “I wouldn’t miss it, either,” Charlotte twittered as she rushed back into the house. “Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Riveting,” Jo agreed. She gave Case a quick look to see if his eyebrows appeared to be back to normal. They looked a little sparse in places, but she thought no one else would notice. “We’ll talk to Starina some more later. You’d better pull your feeble-witted look out of your bag of tricks now.”

  He grumbled something under his breath, took her arm, and hauled her up the front steps and into the house.

  If they’d hoped to get lost in the crowd, Case saw right away that wasn’t going to happen because there wasn’t much of a crowd. In spite of the number of men at the Unbroken Man rally, and the throng at the women’s meeting, the only ones who were present were Purdy himself, the two of them, Charlotte, Freida, Cedric, and about half a dozen others he didn’t yet know.

  Maybe that was all Purdy needed, though, Case thought as he donned his eager, good-old-boy expression and found seats for himself and Jo in the sparsely furnished living room.

  Purdy didn’t seem dismayed by the small number of people his message had attracted.

  Case thought it was odd that Purdy hadn’t rented a nicer house. This one was in a nice setting, near the top of the falls themselves and near the old mine offices, but the house was rundown and dismal inside. />
  In his experience, Case had known confidence men to use only the best they could afford in order to project a well-off, and therefore trustworthy, image. Purdy had that part of the con down perfectly with his clothes and his manner.

  This house didn’t fit the image at all. He still wasn’t precisely sure what kind of con Purdy was working, but it was related somehow to money. It always came down to money.

  Case knew for sure that Freida, Charlotte, and Cedric had money. If the others did, too, then it was possible that Purdy only needed a few followers who were willing to give him what he needed.

  He would have to share these thoughts with Jo once the meeting was over. Case gave her a sidelong glance. If she was speaking to him, that is. It was just barely possible that he’d been wrong to disguise himself and follow her on her date with Purdy. He’d been able to justify it by telling himself that Purdy would never agree to their conversation being taped.

  In truth, he’d been worried all day, an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. He’d left that kind of thing behind when he’d quit the attorney general’s office and started working on his own. Three days of knowing Jo Ella Quillan had brought it all back.

  He shifted in his seat so that he could look at her. She was busily glancing around, studying the people who were there and talking to Charlotte, who was seated on her other side.

  She’d buttoned her blouse, he noticed thankfully. Seeing her slip those buttons open had nearly given him a stroke, even if she did claim that she’d done it only to help keep Harold’s attention on her and away from him. At one point, he’d thought he was going to have to grab Jo’s ice water and pour it down Purdy’s pants. Remembering it made him grind his teeth together. He couldn’t believe she’d resorted to using an enticement like that.

  He vowed that the two of them were going to finish their conversation about that subject as soon as they got out of this meeting. He’d add a few choice words regarding his “worries” about not measuring up in the area of facial hair.

  Purdy was standing in front of them now with his arms upraised and his beneficent smile in place. “The universe is not what you’ve been lead to believe it is,” he began. “There’s much more to it, and to yourselves, than mankind has yet dreamed.”