Back to the Bedroom

by Janet Evanovich

  He double-parked the truck in front of Kate’s house and watched the men pile out behind them. “You order the pizza, and I’ll get the furniture squared away.”

  Kate gave him a thumbs-up sign. “I’m going to put Elsie in the guest bedroom on the second floor until I get the roof and ceiling fixed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Half an hour later the Potatoes had installed a double bed and small dresser for Elsie, and had removed the debris from Kate’s room and set up her new queen-size bed. She stood with a stack of linens in her arms while the men trooped out her door, over to Dave’s house.

  “We have to do men’s stuff now,” Dave told her. “We have to go over to my place and watch a hockey game on the tube and drink beer and bore the hell out of one another.”

  “If it’s so boring, why do you do it?”

  “It’s traditional. Only married guys get excused from having this much fun.” He thought about it a minute. “Want to get married?”

  “I’d sooner get boiled in oil. Nothing personal.”

  “And after everything I’ve done for you, you won’t do this one small favor for me. Okay, so you won’t marry me. How about taking me to the concert.”

  She looked skeptical. “You really want to go to the concert?”

  “With all my heart. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than go to your concert.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Actually, it’s my second choice,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you’d go for the first.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he took her arm. “Wait! I swear, I really want to go to the concert.” It was the truth. He needed to know more about her. He was besotted! He wasn’t even sure he’d been joking when he’d asked her to marry him. “I love cello concerts,” he told her earnestly. “How many celli will be playing?”

  “It’s a chamber music group, and I’m the only cellist.”

  “That’s even better. I love chamber music.”

  Kate suspected he didn’t know chamber music from white bread. She thought he looked like the type to nod off and fall out of his seat five minutes after the lights were dimmed, and she found that prospect devilishly appealing. Sometimes these things could get a little dull.

  “I’m going to make the beds, take a shower, then I’ll be ready to go. About half an hour. It’s at the National Academy of Sciences, and the dress is casual.”

  An hour later Kate walked onstage in the intimate NAS auditorium. She looked past the footlights and found Dave on the aisle in the sixth row. She was accustomed to people watching her, but not with such unwavering curiosity, not with such indolent sexuality. He looked very handsome in a tweed sport coat, khaki shirt, and matching tie.

  He was sitting behind and slightly to the side of Sydney Mellon, the music critic assigned to the concert. Mellon was a lump of a man. A pear-shaped blob of middle-aged flesh in a gravy-stained camel’s-hair blazer. He knew music in and out and would have been a decent critic if it weren’t for his habit of falling asleep in the middle of every concert.

  Kate acknowledged the audience and sat on the plush padded folding chair. She positioned her cello between her legs and cleared her mind of everything but the job at hand. In some ways she liked these small concerts best. Each nuance of tone, each phrase, was critical. She liked being directly responsible for the mood of her audience. She was a woman who rose to a challenge, who enjoyed the pleasures of a task well-done.

  If Kate was a born performer, David Dodd was a born observer. He noticed details and added them up like a mathematician. He wasn’t necessarily judgmental, but he formed opinions, changing them when necessary and storing them away for possible future use.

  He found Kate to be an especially intriguing personality. Not only had she stolen his heart, but she filled his mind as well. And he was enthralled as he watched the artist quietly but firmly take over the woman. Her face became a professional mask of total concentration. Her curly red hair had been swept back. Her eyes were enhanced with a smudge of shadow. Her outfit included a floor-length black taffeta skirt that rustled when she walked. Her white blouse had a high neck and puffy sleeves. A column of small pearl buttons marched down the back of the blouse. Dave couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten herself into it, and couldn’t imagine how he’d ever get her out of it. It was a chastity belt of sorts, he decided. A would-be lover’s nightmare.

  As the opening duet ended, and the audience applauded, Dave shifted in his seat. He’d been so absorbed in watching Kate that he hadn’t heard a single note.

  In front of him, Sydney Mellon’s soft pink chin sank to his chest, his eyes drooped closed, and his lips rhythmically pouted and parted in little puffs of breath. His pad and pencil remained poised on his small paunch, held tight by a hand that had developed a reflex grip much like a bird uses to sleep on a perch.

  There were artists who’d been mortally insulted by Mellon’s catnaps, but Kate was oblivious. Even if she’d known the critic was sleeping, she wouldn’t have cared. She was alive with the beauty of the moment; Gioacchino Rossini’s music flowed from her cello in resonant waves of controlled emotion. Dave leaned forward, totally entranced by the music and the woman.

  Kate paused, turned the page, and began the final allegro. Mellon’s eyes flashed open and his head snapped up with a snort that could be heard fifteen rows back. It was the first time Kate could ever remember being jolted out of place in the middle of a piece. She improvised a few bars and almost dropped her bow when she saw Dave roll up his program and smack Mellon on the top of his shiny bald skull.

  Later, when they were in the car, driving home, she turned to Dave and grinned. “That was a nice shot you gave Sydney.”

  It took a minute for Dave to connect. “Sydney?”

  “The somnolent sitting in front of you.”

  Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you believe that guy? He fell asleep. He’s lucky I only smacked him on the top of his head.”

  “That was the music critic for the paper. He always falls asleep. Usually he doesn’t wake up until intermission. I must have been a little loud on the allegro.”

  Dave parked in front of the house and cut the lights. “You were perfect on the allegro. I can’t ever remember hearing anything more beautiful. I can’t remember ever seeing anything so beautiful.”

  She was used to receiving compliments, but she wasn’t used to having them whispered to her in the dark intimacy of a Porsche. The words were as much of a caress as the touch of his hand. They flowed over nerves still strung tight from the concert and sent ripples of excitement coursing along her spine. She knew exactly what she was feeling. She’d experienced it many times before. Stage fright, she thought. He was going to kiss her, and she was scared to death. It was great. The best part of a performance… anticipation. She sat perfectly still, barely breathing, feeling deliciously intoxicated with the moment.

  His fingertip traced a feather-light line from her temple to the curve of her chin, and slipped along the nape of her neck. Her floor-length black velvet cape felt cool and slick under his hand, the woman beneath warm and pliant. She shifted toward him, and he thought the sound of her skirt rustling in the dark car was intensely erotic. A passionate woman all wrapped up in a chaste package. Fire and ice. He’d recognized the combination onstage, where she held her audience with her presence as much as her playing.

  She curled into the circle of his arms, tilted her face to him, she felt his hands tighten at the small of her back. His mouth moved across hers with gentle urgency. If she’d known him longer, she could have admitted to the love that was so obvious in the kiss. And she could have admitted to the love it generated in her.

  There was a faint rapping, and he pulled back from the kiss. Outside the car Elsie was shaking her head. “What are you two doing in there? I can hardly see anything with those windows all steamed up.”

  Dave leaned over Kate and cracked the window. “You have a problem, Elsie?”
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br />   “Not anymore. I got rid of the guy on the roof. And I took care of the wimp in the backyard, too. But with all the slimeballs you’ve got running loose in this neighborhood, I don’t know if I’d want to sit out here, fogging up the windows of this fancy car.”

  Dave narrowed his eyes. “Guy on the roof? Wimp in the backyard?”

  “Listen, I can’t stay out here holding a conversation. I’m missing my TV show. I just thought if you two were gonna diddle around out here, you should have this.” She lifted a revolver with a Dirty Harry-size barrel to window level and passed it through to Dave.

  Kate shrieked and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Holy crap!” Dave pointed the gun toward the windshield and emptied the cylinder. “What the hell are you doing with this thing?”

  “Picked it up at a yard sale. I was gonna use it on the cook at the old people’s home but never got around to it.”

  “You have a license for this gun?”

  “Say what?”

  Dave hefted the .45. It was of World War II vintage, weighed about five pounds, and he thought it could probably make a hole in a target the size of an orange. Not exactly a lady’s gun.

  “I think we should go in now,” he said to Kate. “I’d never get past those buttons on the back of your dress anyway.”

  Kate opened her eyes. “Shame on you. We’re not at the buttons stage.”

  “I know. I was just thinking about being at the buttons stage.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It must take you hours to get out of this thing.”

  “More like seconds. The buttons don’t open. They’re just for appearance. There’s a zipper underneath. Actually, the blouse and the skirt are all one piece. I had it made that way because I’m always late. Clever, huh?”

  “Clever doesn’t even come close.”

  Kate acknowledged his appreciation of her easy-to-get-out-of dress with a grim smile. Like Elsie said—the man had plans. The fact that she found those plans appealing was a little frightening. She locked eyes briefly with Dave in a mutual, silent admission of attraction, then she followed Elsie into the house.

  Dave trailed Kate into the kitchen. “So what’s this business about someone on the roof?”

  Elsie took a seat opposite the portable television on the kitchen table. “It must have been about five-thirty because it was just dark out, and I was putting my stuff away when I heard footsteps up there. They were soft. Someone was being real careful, but I got ears like an elephant. I hear everything. So I went up to the third floor, and sure enough, someone was sliding that piece of fence back. I said, ‘Hold it right there, or I’ll blow your damn brains out,’ then I decided I didn’t like the way he looked, so I blasted him one.”

  Kate felt the blood drain from her face. “My Lord, did you kill him?”

  “Nah, he jumped back. Besides, I never shoot to kill. It’s better if you get them in the privates. Nobody bothers you once you shoot someone in the privates. Word gets out.”

  Dave crossed his arms loosely over his chest and tried not to smile. “It’d slow me down.”

  “I looked out the back window, and there was another one, standing in the yard,” Elsie said. “Soon as he saw me he took off.”

  “You didn’t shoot at him?” Dave asked.

  “Well, yeah, I did. Dug up a little ground about six inches in front of his shoe. I was aiming for his foot, but I missed. You see, it’s one thing to shoot people in the privates when they’re breaking into your house, but you gotta be careful about people that’re just in your yard. The police don’t like it.”

  Dave’s mouth twitched at the corners. “How’d the guy on the roof escape?”

  “He hopped from house to house, and I lost sight of him. This sort of thing happen a lot?” Elsie demanded, looking at Kate.

  Kate groaned. “I need a cup of tea.”

  “I think it’s got something to do with the helicopter part,” Elsie said. “Those two were looking for something.”

  Kate put a pot of water on to boil. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve seen homeless people with more stuff than you. You’d have to be nuts to try to rob this house.”

  “Maybe they thought I sold all my furniture to buy drugs, and they were after the drugs.”

  Elsie snorted. “Are you kidding? Look at you. You dress like Mary Poppins. Everyone knows Mary Poppins doesn’t do drugs. That chick took sugar to get her through. You ever hear of someone robbing for sugar? Besides, how’d they know there was a hole in the roof? You think druggies use aircraft to figure these things out? No sir, I tell you those guys were after something. You look around real good when that thing landed in your bed? You find anything else?”

  Kate exchanged glances with Dave. “We never really looked for anything else.”

  Dave slung an arm around Kate. “I’d like to see you over at my house for a minute.” He turned to Elsie. “Excuse us.”

  “Take your time. I’m going to watch the end of this TV show, then I’m going to bed early. Tomorrow I have the morning shift at the café.”

  Dave wrapped the cape around Kate and hurried her next door, wondering what the devil he was going to say to her when he had her alone. He was having an anxiety attack thinking about leaving her tonight. Her house was disaster-prone. Airplane parts fell into it. Then there was the business about the man on the roof. That presented very scary possibilities. Elsie could be right about someone looking for more parts. On the other hand, Elsie could have lied about a man on the roof… in which case Elsie was dangerously crazy.

  No way did he want Kate to stay in that house tonight. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a clue how to prevent her. He couldn’t just forbid a grown woman from staying in her own house. He could tell her the truth—that he had gone completely looney tunes over her. That would be his last resort, he decided. He’d already asked her to marry him, and she’d declined. Of course he hadn’t been serious about the proposal, not completely serious anyway. Still, saying she preferred to be boiled in oil was a tad insulting. Maybe he could appeal to her good judgment. Maybe he could lock her in the hall closet.

  He closed the heavy oak door behind them and hit the light switch. “Listen, Kate, about tonight…”

  “My Lord, did you see that gun? It was big! It was the biggest gun I’ve ever seen. It was the only gun I’ve ever seen. She’s probably got more of them, too. She’s probably got a whole arsenal in her bedroom. Grenade launchers and submachine guns.” She hung her cape on the hall coatrack. “I knew I should have asked for references. I should have required a psychiatric profile, a urine test, fingerprints…”

  “Maybe you should refund her money tomorrow.”

  Kate rustled into the kitchen. “I can’t refund her money. I spent her money… on the furniture.”

  “I’ll loan you whatever you need. I have lots of money. I don’t know what to do with all my money.”

  Kate paced in front of the refrigerator. His jacket probably cost five hundred dollars, she mused. He drove a megabucks car. And this afternoon he disposed of a case of imported lager without blinking an eye. Either he’d robbed a bank, or else he’d grown up in Toad Hall, and the senior Toad had recently died. “Wedding pictures must pay well.”

  “Weddings pay next to nothing.” He gave her a cat-that-caught-the-canary smile. “I won the lottery.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I did!”

  “Nobody wins the lottery. It’s all a hoax. It’s done with mirrors.”

  “Honest. I won the lottery. Thirty-five million. Of course, after taxes it was a lot less.” He took a small framed photograph from the wall and held it out to her. “My commemorative keepsake.”

  “Son of a gun. You actually won the lottery.”

  He put the picture on the counter. “I immediately quit the photography business and haven’t had a real job since.”

  “Then what do you do all day?”

  “Whatever I want. Mostly nothing, I guess. Except for m
y drawing. I spend a reasonable amount of time drawing.”

  Kate wrinkled her nose. For as long as she could remember, there hadn’t been enough hours in her day, and she’d always considered anyone who didn’t work a slacker. She had a mental image of David Dodd with a two-day-old beard, drinking beer and reading comic books. Not a pretty picture. His business, she reminded herself. She had no right to sit in judgment on his lifestyle. If he’d turned himself into a shiftless spud, it was no skin off her nose. She found a knife and whacked off a piece of spice cake.

  Dave winced and removed the knife from her hand. “There’s something about women and weapons that makes me nervous.”

  “Chauvinist.”

  “Not at all. I also get nervous about men and weapons.”

  Kate’s thoughts returned to Elsie. “So what do you think of my roomie? Is she crazy?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not excited about her packing that cannon. And I don’t know if I buy the story about the guy on the roof.” He gave Kate a plate for her cake. “I hate to say this, but underneath it all… I like Elsie.”

  Kate took a swipe at the icing with her finger. “I guess I do, too. But if I believe Elsie, then what about the helicopter pod?” She forked a piece of cake into her mouth. “I can’t believe someone intentionally bombed my house, but her theory about something else falling down… that caught my attention. It would make sense that there was a camera on the camera mount.”

  Dave pulled food from the refrigerator and lined it up on the counter. Lettuce, roast beef, mustard, horseradish, tomatoes, provolone cheese. He took two rolls from a bakery bag and sliced them. “Smitty and I dragged your bed out and cleaned up the room, and there wasn’t anything unusual there.”

  “How about the third floor?”

  Dave piled roast beef on the rolls. “We didn’t do much to the third floor. We just made sure nothing else was going to crash down on you.” He slapped on cheese and tomatoes. “Still, I think we would have noticed if something extra was lying around.”

  Kate took the sandwich from him. “Boy, this whole thing is pretty creepy, huh?”