Ride a Painted Pony (Superromance)

by McSparren, Carolyn

  “After last night—”

  She flipped a hand. “Last night won’t happen again. I’m shamed and embarrassed but I’ll get over it. Could have happened in the grocery parking lot. It’s a fact of life—women get attacked. Housewives and bank executives and corporate lawyers are just as much at risk. Are you saying they ought to enter your friendly neighborhood cloistered nunnery?” She considered. “Cloisters aren’t safe either these days.”

  “The risk is much higher when you’re out stalking someone who’s already killed two people,” Veda said.

  Taylor turned on her. “Don’t you start. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I’m not on anybody’s side. You had a bad experience. Acknowledge it.”

  “I do acknowledge it! But don’t you see, if I quit now or if Nick fires me, Eugene wins! The murderer wins! He controls what we do and how we think.” She drew herself up. “Nobody controls me. Nobody. Never again.”

  Nick found himself wavering. His head told him that she made sense, that she needed to keep on, to fight back over what had been done to her. His heart told him to keep her safe—and to hell with her self-esteem.

  The gate alarm buzzed. “Oh, damn!” Taylor said and went to the intercom.

  “Taylor. It’s Danny. Open up.”

  “That’s all we need,” Taylor said and punched the buzzer. She turned to the three people at the table. “If I have to tell Danny every dirty detail of yesterday, I will. But for pity’s sake, don’t help!”

  She opened the door and went outside to wait for him.

  “She’s right,” Mel said and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Mr. Lewis will tell the police everything he knows. His actions do not speak of a man who is willing to keep a vow of silence when faced with prison.”

  They listened to the murmur of Taylor and Vollmer’s voices outside the door. Nick closed his eyes. He wasn’t certain he could put up with Vollmer’s attitude. Whether Vollmer said the words or not, they’d be implied. Nick had done a lousy job of protecting his woman.

  Taylor opened the door and came in with Vollmer. Nick was afraid she was going to faint. She shook her head at him and closed her eyes for a moment. “I was wrong,” she said. “It’s not over.”

  Vollmer walked in with the authority of a banty-rooster and a grin without a trace of merriment. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Have I interrupted a party? Fancy brunch at the country house?”

  Taylor stood by the door with her hand on the knob. Nick went towards her, but Vollmer neatly sidestepped to block his way. He looked up at Nick but spoke to the group. “At one-thirty this morning the charred remains of a stolen blue four-door Mercury sedan were found in a ditch in the county. Upon investigation of said remains, the partially charred body of a male was found in the front seat. Said body’s butt wasn’t sufficiently charred to destroy his wallet, which bore a Mississippi driver’s license in the name of one Eugene P. Lewis late of Oxford.”

  Veda moaned.

  “One more thing. Said Eugene P. Lewis’s body had no smoke in its lungs largely because said body had taken a slug sometime before the fire started.”

  Taylor leaned against the door frame. Her face was gray.

  “How long had he been dead?” Mel asked.

  “Won’t know until the autopsy. Won’t know about the slug either.” Vollmer stared belligerently at Nick. “You like to tell me where you were from seven last evening until two this morning?”

  “Nick,” Veda said, “you don’t have to answer any of this man’s questions.”

  “He and I were together from late yesterday morning until you got here,” Taylor said.

  Vollmer glanced at Taylor and then back at Nick. His eyes narrowed, and Nick saw his fingers flex. “You sleep in the same bed?”

  “What do you think?” Taylor asked. She glared at Met and Veda as though daring them to contradict her.

  “Mel and Veda were here until midnight,” Nick said. “After that I didn’t leave the house.”

  “You went to sleep sometime, didn’t you?” Vollmer asked, turning to Taylor. “I seem to recall you sleep real hard after you make love. If it’s been good, that is.”

  Nick drew in his breath. He knew Vollmer was baiting him, trying to make him do something stupid.

  “How would you know?” Taylor asked sweetly.

  Veda covered her snicker with a cough.

  “I didn’t sleep hard enough for Nick to slip away from me long enough to go to the bathroom or to find another condom.” Taylor arched her eyebrows prettily at Vollmer.

  Nick watched the blood rush up the man’s neck and suffuse his face. Oh, yeah, he still wanted Taylor all right. And now he had real reason to want Nick in prison for a long stretch.

  “Of course,” Taylor said, “there’s another reason I know he didn’t go anywhere.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He doesn’t know the gate code.” She smiled triumphantly. “He could drive out, but he couldn’t get back in unless he knocked the gates off their hinges.” She turned to Mel.

  Mel relaxed, leaned back in his chair and nodded at Vollmer. “You didn’t notice anything amiss, did you, Detective, when Taylor buzzed you in?”

  Vollmer didn’t give up easily. “Maybe Eugene picked him up and he climbed back over the fence.”

  “Oh. Danny, get real.”

  “Maybe he hitchhiked.”

  “Sure. Would you pick up somebody his size at two in the morning on a country road beside a burning car?” Taylor laughed.

  Nick smiled. He could take care of himself, but Taylor needed this confrontation.

  “Smart-ass,” Vollmer said with forced amiability, then turned grim. “Smart enough to get that pretty little tail in a crack you can’t get it out of one of these days.” To Nick he said, “Once the autopsy comes in, you and I are going to have a little talk without your mouthpiece over there.”

  “I’ll bring my other mouthpiece instead—the one with the Boston accent.”

  Vollmer gave a strangled snarl, turned on his heel and stalked out.

  Nick knew Taylor’s pattern now. Smart-mouth the authority figure, stand up to the bully, and then the moment the danger was over, collapse into heart palpitations and nausea.

  He took her in his arms without a thought for Veda and Mel. He could feel her heart beating frantically against him and hear her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

  He relished the feel of her against him and knew it might be the last time. Eugene died because Nick Kendall had shot him as he ran away from the Eberhardt warehouse. Sooner or later Nick would have to tell Vollmer. Maybe they’d call it self-defense, maybe voluntary manslaughter. In any case he needed to talk to Rico Cabrizzo first.

  He had to stay out of jail long enough to make certain that Taylor was safe. That meant she had to stay as far from him as possible.

  Taylor slipped out of his arms quickly and went to stand behind Mel. “So, we’re still on the job, right?”

  Nick shook his head. “Wrong.” He spoke to Mel and pointedly ignored Taylor. “I meant what I said.”

  “How about if Mel takes over?” Taylor asked. Nick heard the edge of desperation in her voice.

  Again he shook his head. “You couldn’t stay out of it.”

  Mel nodded. “He’s right.” He patted Taylor’s hand. “The Paradise Café thing is hotting up. I can use you to check some credit references for me.”

  “No!” Taylor turned to Veda. “You tell them.”

  Veda shook her head. “Leave me out of it.” She raised her eyebrows at Mel and went to the door. Mel followed. “Whatever personal is going on between you, work it out without us.”

  Taylor followed. “He may still be in danger. After all, he can identify the animals.”

  Mel kept his tone even. “The remaining animals are off the market, the killer has nothing to fear from either of you. All he has to do is keep his head down and write the whole thing off as an investment that went bad.”

 
“Meanwhile Nick pays thirty-five thousand dollars to Pete Marley.”

  “That was always a possibility,” Nick said quietly.

  “We’re already working on that little problem,” Veda said. She touched Taylor’s arm. “Don’t worry, dear. It’ll all work out.”

  “Take a couple of days off,” Mel said. “Then come back raring to work.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, something he had never done before.

  She flinched.

  He gave Veda a baffled glance. She shook her head, stood on tiptoes to kiss Nick on the cheek, and dragged Mel to his car.

  Nick closed the door behind them. Taylor wouldn’t give up without a fight. She stood with her back to him, her arms wrapped around her body.

  He could tell she was battling for control.

  “It’s no thanks to me either of us is alive,” she said

  “Not true.”

  “Don’t be kind and don’t condescend.” She whirled to face him. The tears in her eyes shone like stars.

  He longed to go to her and kiss those tears away, heal her bruised ego and her wounded spirit. But he stayed where he was and tried to keep the anguish out of his voice. “I’m not condescending. You found the animals. That was something.”

  “Thank you very much. I didn’t, however, find the thief. I seem to recall that was my assignment, wasn’t it? I’ve cost you thirty-five thousand dollars and possibly Rounders.” She pointed at the side table. “I’m always telling my mother I carry a gun, but it hasn’t been much help, has it? It’s either not available or I get the stupid thing taken away from me. What good is it? Come to think of it, what good am I?”

  “You’re damn good. You weren’t supposed to fall over a dead body the first day.”

  “Really? You warned me this could be dangerous, but did I listen? Nooo.” She turned away from him. “I didn’t tell Mel about Eberhardt or Eugene.” She took a deep breath. “I am not a team player.”

  “Everybody makes lousy decisions sometimes. Hey, you can play on my team any day.”

  “Can I really? Even with Eugene’s handprints on my ass?” Suddenly all the spirit seemed to drain out of her. “I understand what this is really about. You’re dealing with it intellectually like a nice, intelligent modern man who doesn’t believe women ask to get assaulted, being supportive and thoughtful and all the rest of the psychological buzzwords. The reality is that the thought of taking me to bed after what went on yesterday probably revolts the hell out of you. Every time you look at me you see me on that bed with Eugene’s hands on me, and you remember that you couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.”

  “Taylor!” He went to her then, grabbed her arms, spun her around and held her at arm’s length. “It’s eating me alive that I couldn’t protect you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you every bit as much as I ever did. Goddammit, I want you alive! The first day we met, you said if things got tough you’d run like hell and let the police handle it. Do it!”

  She pulled away from him. “Fine. You’re right, Mel’s right, Veda’s right, and I’m whining like a kid whose lollipop got stolen. I agree. I’m not rational. I’m mad as hell about this. I have a score to settle. But it’s your call, buster, and you’ve called it. Now get out of my house and out of my life until I come to terms with my failure.” She spun away. “Shouldn’t take long. I’ve had plenty of experience.”

  “Taylor, baby—”

  “Get out, please. Right now. I cannot take one more minute of this.”

  He knew the instant he walked out the door that she’d slam it behind him and fall apart. But this time he’d lost his privilege to hold her while she retched.

  His plan had worked, oh yeah, it had worked all too well. She’d be safe away from him.

  Somehow when this mess was over, he vowed, he’d get her back.

  That is, if he wasn’t sitting in jail convicted of murder.

  This time he felt as though he were the one who was going to throw up. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said and opened the door.

  “Don’t.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “MOTHER, IT’S TAYLOR.”

  “Oh, Taysie, darling, I’ve been so worried, but at least I haven’t seen anything else about you in the papers. Bradley was terribly upset. I do think you owe him an apology.”

  Elmo climbed up to Taylor’s shoulder and tried to stick his nose between the telephone and her hand. Taylor shoved . him off. He stalked away grumbling. “Wrong way round. He owes me one.”

  “You’re always so hard on him.”

  “Maybe that’s because you’re always so easy.”

  “Taysie, you know your father didn’t believe any woman should ever correct a man—even her own son.”

  “And look how he’s turned out.”

  “He’s turned out very well.” Irene sounded as though she were trying to convince herself as much as her daughter.

  “Mother, he’s been up on disciplinary charges by the bar association twice, he is a dangerously unfaithful husband who may one day bring home more than the bacon to his wife, and he—like his father before him—beats both his wife and his children.”

  “Taysie, how can you say things like that?”

  “Because I’m tired, miserable, wallowing in self-pity and sick to death of secrets. Not that they’re secrets from you.”

  “Bradley has promised me—”

  “Mother, I didn’t call to talk about Bradley.”

  “No, of course you didn’t, Taysie.” There was a silence before her mother asked, “Why are you tired and miserable?”

  “Long story. I wanted to hear your voice, reassure you.”

  “I wish your uncle Mark had never left you that place! What was he thinking, leaving his hunting cabin to a woman!”

  “He gave me sanctuary.”

  “What a strange thing to say. Paul’s death ruined your life.”

  Taylor took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to give her mother a little reality therapy. “If he hadn’t been killed, he’d probably have been divorced citing the secretary whose apartment he paid for.” The moment the words left her mouth Taylor regretted them.

  “Taylor Hunt, only a very weak woman divorces a man over mistresses. We Maxwell women have never been weak.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your father kept every secretary he had until his prostate gave out, and he slapped me every bit as often as he took after you and Bradley. Any southern woman knows that sort of thing is the price one pays for a fine home and a decent life.”

  “A decent life?”

  “Of course. All my furs and jewelry are out of guilt.”

  “Mother,” Taylor said with wonder, “you and I are on different planets, but God help me, I’m your child. I put up with it from Paul for six years.”

  “And would have continued for the sake of your children, just as I did.”

  “No, mother, I would not.” Taylor leaned her head back against the chair and checked the clock. Nine-thirty in the morning. The day already seemed a millennium long. She took a deep breath. Maybe secrets were better in the long run.

  “Look,” she said, “let’s not quarrel. You bought me lunch, how about I buy you lunch to reciprocate?”

  “Oh, Taysie darling, I can’t, not today. But I’ll tell you what, meet me about four and we’ll have a gooey desert, just the way we used to.”

  Taylor laughed. “Sure. Yes, I’d like that. Life may let you down, but chocolate hangs in there.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll be at CeCe Washburn’s new shop in Germantown.”

  Sandbagged again. Taylor dropped her head into her hand and acknowledged defeat. “All right, CeCe Washburn’s it is. But I’m still not taking that job.”

  She hung up the phone, leaned back in the leather chair, then nestled her cheek against the leather. It still smelled like Nick—fresh-cut wood and pine straw. Her heart lurched. She missed him already.

  Before she lost her nerve, she picked up the phone again an
d dialed Mel’s number. When he answered she said without preamble, “Consider this my two weeks’ notice, Mel. That should give you time to find another investigator.”

  “Taylor? Don’t be silly, girl. This is only one case.”

  “No, Mel, it was my case. I wanted to show off how great I was, and I screwed up every step of the way including going to bed with the client and almost getting us both killed. But I’m not going back to sitting in front of a computer screen staring at little green letters until my eyes cross.”

  “Nobody says you have to.”

  “At the moment it’s all I’m good for. My worst mistake was putting Nick in jeopardy. And I fell in love with him. I had no right to do that.”

  “Taylor, honey—”

  “Please, listen. Consider me off the clock for the next two days, then I’ll give you ten working days on the Paradise Café thing. If by the end of that time the police haven’t caught Nick’s thief, then I’m going to do their jobs for them—free, gratis, no client.”

  Mel sighed. “Take your two days. Get your head straight. But I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

  “Fight away. You can’t win until I do.”

  She longed to go straight back to bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep for the whole two days. Not possible. Mel said somebody always knew the truth. She dragged out her tape recorder, turned on her computer, set up her files and began to transcribe her notes.

  The moment she heard Nick on the tape, she hit the “stop” button. The sound of his voice enveloped her in warm honey. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on her computer desk, then raised it with a jerk when she realized she’d deposited three lines of Ks across the screen.

  “Deal with Nick later,” she told herself sternly, fast-forwarded and began to transcribe Estelle Grierson’s discussion of Clara’s wild days at Ole Miss.

  Two hours later she got up to go to the bathroom, eased her aching back, shook out her shoulders and arms. She was too stupid to see what must be there. So she called Danny Vollmer and asked him to lunch.