“And why are you trying to track them down?” Eliot asked. “I assume it’s because you’ve convinced yourself that someone with the carnival company is a murderer.”
“Who else?”
“We don’t have proof that the two women were killed by the same person.”
“We don’t have proof they weren’t,” I pointed out. “All we seem to know is that two black women, both under the age of twenty-four, were found dead in close proximity to this carnival. Now, Port Hope doesn’t have a lot of color to break up the sea of white, so that makes the choice of victim stand out.
“If you want to look at Mount Clemens as a separate entity, it becomes more difficult,” I continued. “There’s a diverse population in Mount Clemens, so Teyona Davidson could’ve been a victim of opportunity. I think it’s only possible to believe that if you’re a fan of coincidences.”
“And you’re not.”
“Only if I can use the word ‘coincidence’ to get my mother off my back,” I replied. “I need you to be honest here. Don’t say something because you’re afraid to set me off or hurt my feelings.”
“Okay.”
“Can you honestly look at those two girls and say that you don’t think they’re connected?”
“I … .” Eliot worked his mouth as he considered the question. “I don’t know. I don’t want to jump to the conclusion that they’re connected if they’re not because that means you’ll be heading in the wrong direction. On the flip side, you’re pretty good at figuring things out and your gut is rarely wrong … except for the time you convinced yourself that you were dying of a French beetle disease.”
“Oh, I’m over that,” I offered. “The symptoms would be obvious by now. I’ve moved on.”
“Whew! That’s a relief.” Eliot tossed me a rueful smile as he mimed wiping sweat from his brow.
“Now I think the new house might be haunted.”
Eliot’s mouth dropped open.
“I’m serious,” I prodded.
“Part of me wants to ask why and yet I think it’s a mistake.” Eliot was obviously talking to himself, so I let him carry on to his heart’s content. “Okay, I’ll bite, why do you think the new house is haunted?”
“I saw something move out of the corner of my eye when we were there this morning. It’s been bugging me all day. It was definitely a spirit.”
“Where did you see it move?”
“In that mirror above the fireplace.”
“You mean the one that kind of points at the front door – the door I used to move boxes in and out?”
“Oh, good point. Maybe the house isn’t haunted.”
“Great.” Eliot opened the food bag and handed me one of the containers. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”
I nodded, taking a moment to rub my fingers over his when I took the food. “I want to move in with you. I’m sorry you’re so worried that I’m going to freak out and ruin this. I’m doing my absolute best to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”
Eliot’s expression softened. “You’re not going to ruin anything. You’re a passionate person with extremely odd whims. I’ve gotten used to that. Heck, that’s what attracted me to you in the first place.”
“Most guys would’ve run the other way,” I said. “The day you met me I was going to see the Star Wars Symphony at an outdoor concert venue.”
Eliot smiled at the memory. “I remember. You came into my shop, demanded a gun because you were being threatened, and then took off to a Star Wars concert. From the moment I saw you I knew you were different, and that’s what I liked about you.
“I’m not going to pretend you’re perfect, because we both know you’re not,” he continued. “You have a tendency to run off at the mouth and leap before you look. Even your bad habits are somehow … charming … at times.”
“You should put that in writing, get it notarized and hand it over to my mother at the next family dinner,” I suggested.
Eliot smirked. “That would be an example of you running off at the mouth.”
“You should’ve seen me schmoozing the chick at the carnival. I pretended I was interested in the migratory patterns of carnivals. I was so good she believed me.”
“That’s my girl.” Eliot squeezed my hand. “You’re a difficult woman. You are. Don’t bother denying it.”
“I would never.”
“You’re also worth every second of difficulty,” Eliot said, his expression earnest. “I never thought I’d fall in love with a woman like you, but now I can’t imagine living without you. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“All of that said, you tend to chafe when it comes to change,” he continued. “I love you dearly, but you’re set in your ways. That’s not to say that you won’t compromise – because you will – but you always try to force everyone to your way of thinking before you even consider it.”
“I think you’ve gotten off track,” I observed, cutting into my beef kebab with the plastic utensils the restaurant provided.
“I haven’t gotten off track,” Eliot countered. “You’re going to have a couple of mini-meltdowns before this is all said and done. Moving is stressful. Taking control of a household and making it so two people are comfortable is stressful. We’ll get through it. I have faith we can get through anything.”
“That’s very sweet. I think I’ll be fine. I have no intention of letting you down.”
“You won’t let me down even if you freak out.” Eliot leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth before snagging the warm pita bread I had slathered with garlic butter from my hand.
“Hey!”
“Compromise, Trouble. You need to work on it.” Eliot bit into the bread and smiled. “This was a good choice.”
“It was.” I grabbed another piece of bread. “So, can we talk about the weird Jess dude or are we still being mushy and focusing on the relationship stuff?”
Eliot smirked. “Let’s talk about Jess. He’s the dart guy, right?”
“Right. So, after running into him this afternoon – and him telling Jake the truth about why I kicked Tad in the nuts – I found out he’s the manager’s nephew. He’s been with the carnival only a year.”
“Hold on a second.” Eliot held up his hand to quiet me before I could get up a full head of steam. “You didn’t mention this guy was with you when you fought with Ludington. Why?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know it was important.”
“But … how did you end up together? We’re talking about the guy you said was hot, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, puh-leez. I don’t care how hot he is, the guy is a carnie and he may be a murderer.”
“Which one of those things bothers you more?”
“The carnie part.”
“Of course. Continue.”
“Anyway, I was sitting on the bench by the art festival booths when he came up to me,” I supplied. “We traded barbs about how I was a ballbuster. He was kind of rude, but he did laugh at a few of my insults. Then Tad came up and I got distracted.”
“With kicking Tad in the balls.”
“Exactly. So I kicked Tad, and that’s when Jake showed up and got between us. Jess told the truth, which infuriated Tad, and he took off. When I went to the carnival a woman named Stella approached. She’s tall … like freak show tall … and was suspicious of me at first.”
“Not my little angel,” Eliot teased.
“She was definitely suspicious, so I poured on the charm and convinced her I was writing a fluff piece,” I said. “She fell for it, so I asked about how the carnival moves and to what regions they travel.”
“That was smart, my little genius,” Eliot said, licking the garlic sauce from his thumb. “By couching it as a fluff piece she probably believed you were simply curious.”
“That was my goal. She said that Don Hamilton is the owner, but a little online checking leads me to believe he’s a manager and nothing more. Ste
lla said that Jess is his nephew and has only been with the carnival a year.”
“That’s the second time you said that.” Eliot opened his food container and handed me the pickles from the side of his plate. He’d ordered the shawarma, knowing how crazy I am for those tiny pickles. “Why is that important?”
“Because I tracked the carnival as well as I could through festivals,” I supplied. “I need to spend more time on it tomorrow, but it’s mind-numbing, so I gave it up for the time being. I think that whoever killed these girls can’t be an old face. Someone would’ve caught on by now. It has to be a newer member of the carnival troupe.”
“I get where you’re going, but this Jess guy has been around for a year,” Eliot reminded me. “That’s hardly new. If he is a serial killer – and I’m not saying he is because that term comes with a lot of crazy connotations that I’m not quite comfortable with – but if he is, wouldn’t there be a string of bodies in the carnival’s wake?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
I beamed as I caught his gaze, flashing my prettiest smile. “Well, I was thinking … .”
“Oh, man.” Eliot shook his head. “You want me to track their route, don’t you?”
“Please?” I rubbed my hands together and adopted a pleading expression. “It’s so much work, and I’m not even sure I’m doing it right. You’re a security guru. Heck, you’re a security god. You know about running tailored searches. You’ll be able to do it faster.”
“And what happens if we do find a trail of bodies?”
“Then we have a pattern of behavior. As it stands, I’m going to scoop everyone because I had inside information on the Port Hope murder. I know Jake heard us talking about it at lunch, but I don’t think he put the two cases together after we discovered the body.”
“But he will tomorrow when your story hits with a big bang,” Eliot surmised, heaving a sigh. “You’re ahead of everyone, and you want to stay that way.”
“Yes.” I enthusiastically nodded. “I’m going to track down Teyona’s mother tomorrow. There’s a news conference at the sheriff’s department in the afternoon. If you could help me with a search to track the carnival workers, I’d be way ahead.”
“I have my own work to do.”
I jutted out my lower lip. “But … your help on this very important story will make me feel so much more comfortable when it’s time for us to move and start our new life together.”
“Don’t do that.” Eliot extended a warning finger. “I’m not falling for that. I hate it when you try to manipulate me.”
That was a fair point, so I squared my shoulders. “I’ll dress up in the naughty outfit of your choice for our first night in the new house if you help me.”
“Oh, well, a negotiation.” Eliot tipped his head to the side, considering. “I might want you to do a dance, too.”
I blew out a sigh, resigned. “Fine. But I’m not rapping again! I have terrible rhythm.”
“Deal.” Eliot gripped the front of my shirt and hauled me in for a kiss. “I’ll help you as long as you don’t keep me in the dark. If we are dealing with a serial killer … .”
“I’m not black,” I reminded him. “Serial killers have a type. I don’t fit that type.”
“That doesn’t mean the killer won’t kill you to keep a secret,” Eliot pointed out. “You have to promise to be really careful and keep me constantly in the loop.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“You haven’t even heard what outfit I’m going to make you wear.”
I didn’t want to grin – it was only encouraging him, of course – but I couldn’t stop myself. “I promise.”
“Good. Now, eat your dinner. We’re finishing the packing tonight and then going to bed early. I expect a little preview for being so agreeable.”
I thought about arguing, but there was no need. It was definitely the best offer I’d had all day.
15
Fifteen
Eliot was still asleep when I woke the next morning, his arm resting on my waist as he snored lightly. I didn’t want to wake him – moving was going to take it out of him over the next few days, and I wanted him to have enough energy to deal with me and domestic stuff – so I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and started texting Marvin with instructions.
After two long and detailed messages full of lofty orders, he texted back that he was sleeping and to shut up. That only made me angry, so I called him.
Marvin didn’t even bother saying “hello” when he picked up the phone. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because you’re a lousy texter.” I did my best to keep my voice low so as not to wake Eliot. “I need you to do me a favor today.”
Marvin ignored the request. “I was out late last night. I was at a bar … that one down on Eight Mile by the freeway. You know the one, right?”
I searched my memory. “The Kitty Cat Club? You went to a strip club on a Tuesday? What’s wrong with you?”
“First, there’s no reason to limit yourself to weekends when it comes to visiting strip clubs,” Marvin snapped. “Second, I met a woman there. She really likes me. I think we might be soul mates.”
Marvin meets his soul mate once a month – usually when he’s hit the bottom of a Disaronno bottle and she’s hit the top of his wallet. He absolutely loves women in the service industry. That can be any kind of service, like waitresses, strippers, nurses, Laundromat attendants, bankers, etc., as long as they wait on him. Then, when he finally gets them in bed, he turns into a walking doormat and lets them trample his heart. It’s a finely honed system in which he meets his soul mate one day and she breaks his heart three weeks later.
“You didn’t meet your soul mate,” I challenged, working overtime to tamp down my irritation. “She’s a stripper and you were paying for a service.”
“That shows what you know,” Marvin challenged. “She gave me a lap dance for an hour last night even though I only paid for forty-five minutes. That’s fifteen free minutes! We talked – about deep stuff – while she was doing it.”
“Really? Deep stuff? Were you shoving dollar bills in her G-string while discussing the nature of the universe? Perhaps that’s why she hung around for so long. It was a Tuesday. She probably didn’t have a lot of options.”
“Don’t even bother trying to rain on my naked parade,” Marvin shot back. “She’s falling in love with me.”
“I’m falling in extreme dislike with you.”
“You say that like it should mean something,” Marvin sniffed. “You don’t give me sex. Why should I care?”
“Do you want me to give you sex?”
Eliot stirred next to me, opening an eye and staring. It was my first clue that he was awake. I pretended not to notice.
“Of course not,” Marvin replied, his voice so shrill I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Eliot smirked when he heard the outrage. “I would never touch you. Do you want to know why?”
“Not really.”
“I want to know,” Eliot whispered, snuggling nearer and burying his face in my neck so he was close enough to hear the conversation from the phone pressed to my ear.
“You’re mean,” Marvin plowed on, oblivious to my growing irritation. “You’re a mean girl. You say horrible things and then sit back and wait to see if you can make people cry.”
“I don’t try to make you cry.”
“Not me, but other people.”
“I thought you found that to be a turn-on.”
“When you’re being mean to other people, I find it entertaining,” Marvin clarified. “I often find it somewhat … titillating when you make Duncan’s head spin around or you make the sports guys cover their junk until they find cups … but I don’t like it when you’re mean to me.”
I felt Eliot’s lips curve against my neck as I struggled to maintain a calm façade. Exploding at Marvin right now wouldn’t fix my problem. It would only m
ake things worse.
“I don’t mean to upset you. If it helps, I’m sure the stripper is your soul mate and you’ll live happily ever after.” I’m a terrible liar at times, but Marvin hardly ever notices because he’s too wrapped up in his own drama.
“Her name is Rainbow Bridge,” Marvin said.
“Whose name is Rainbow Bridge? The stripper’s name is Rainbow Bridge?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m going to guess that’s not her legal name,” I muttered. “Her real name is probably Gertrude … or Francine … or Helga.”
“Rainbow is the name of her heart.”
Something occurred to me. “Isn’t the Rainbow Bridge where pets go when they die?” I shifted so I could meet Eliot’s gaze. He was too busy biting his lip to answer.
“I don’t believe that’s true,” Marvin said primly.
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s true,” I countered. “Why would a stripper name herself after a place where pets go when they die? Ooh, maybe she has some sort of Pet Sematary fetish. Did you see that movie? I’ll bet she’s going to make you sit in a cold bath until your skin is cool to the touch before having sex with you. I’ll bet that’s what she gets off on.”
“That is not true!” Marvin was beside himself. He’s afraid of dead things, including people. I’ve seen him cause more than one scene at a funeral home. When one of our co-workers lost a parent, Marvin spent an entire hour in the wrong room talking to people because he was afraid to look at the body for location confirmation. I believe he got a date that day, too. That woman wasn’t a stripper, but Marvin made her wash her hands with alcohol to get off the formaldehyde before letting her anywhere near the stiff parts of his body.
“It’s probably true and she’s going to make you pretend to be dead before she’ll have sex with you.”
Eliot’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Marvin made a series of disgusted sounds on the other end of the phone. I waited until he was finished to return to the task at hand.
“I need a favor,” I repeated.
“Why would I possibly do you a favor after you ruined my love affair?” Marvin’s voice was shrill. “You’re officially my least favorite person in the world. I’m glad you got stuck with the festival.”
Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10) Page 14
