by Terri Thayer
"Awesome?" I said. "I don't know if I'd call it that."
He swung around, puzzled.
I said, "After all, there was Kym" I smiled at him to let him know I wasn't really mad at him. It wasn't his fault that Kym and Kevin came as a set.
Buster opened the passenger door and helped me in. He tipped the valet and climbed in the driver's seat. He checked his mirror and pulled out. "Yeah, but you and Kevin..."
I needed to put an end to this. I didn't want a lifetime of double dates. "Look Buster, I admit that I didn't realize until tonight how much I missed just hanging out with Kevin."
He nodded eagerly. "He told me he misses that, too."
I can't do it with Kym. "Next time let's invite Kevin to come with us to the batting cages. I see enough of Kym at work. It's like me forcing you to spend more time with Sanchez."
He laughed warily. His partner was not the most fun guy.
I said, "Or worse, Anton Zorn." I said his name like Zorn did, with all capital letters. "What is it with you two, anyway?"
Buster signaled and made a right turn on Hedding. His eyes were on the road ahead, and I couldn't see them. Dating a homicide detective meant I'd become more aware of body language and facial expressions. But being a detective, Buster knew how to hide his feelings.
His voice was neutral, as though what Zorn thought didn't mean much to him, but his words told me different. "He thinks I'm a green know-it-all who relies on the computer too much."
"How long has he been in homicide?"
"I don't know-thirty, forty years. Since the last Ice Age. To him, finding a murderer is all gut and experience. Since I have very little of that, he's suspicious"
"And because he's an unevolved human being, that comes out as petty jealousy," I said.
"Something like that." Buster smiled at me and touched the back of my hand reassuringly. "He's not the only guy on homicide that didn't want to see me become a detective. I'm younger than everyone else. Proving myself is just part of the job. No big deal."
I hadn't realized things had been so tough for him. I waited for him to say more, but nothing came. He was finished talking about work.
I patted his knee. "I think you're pretty special."
We were stopped for a light. Buster broke his thoughtfulness and moved in for a kiss, smiling. I happily raised my face to his. I loved the smell of him.
He put an arm around me. "Have I told you lately how much I like having you in my life?"
"You said you had the perfect end for this evening?" I purred, moving closer to him on the bench seat. We'd been in this truck a zillion times since our lunchtime tryst six months ago, but right now, I was feeling the good vibrations we'd left behind.
"I believe I used the term stellar," he said.
"Sex, Buster. That's what I want. Full on, mind-blowing, total body contact, your naked body next to mine. So close I can't tell where you begin and I end." There. I said it. I asked for it.
"Whoa," Buster said, revving the engine, loud. The young driver in the car next to us looked frightened. Horny couples were probably not covered in Driver's Ed.
He drummed his hands on the steering wheel, looking up at the signal. He pressed the accelerator and pretended to run the red light. "Is anyone looking?"
I laughed. "If you get a ticket, that'll just slow us down more. Get us home without police intervention."
He cruised through the green light. I leaned against him, looking at the stars out the windshield. It was a clear night. My belly thrummed in anticipation of the rest of the evening. It was only eleven, so we had plenty of time for sex and a good's night sleep. I would salvage this night. I sighed happily, rubbing his arm. I didn't want to move away from him. His body was so solid next to mine.
My cell rang in my purse, jarring me. Who was calling me? I glanced at the readout and saw it was the alarm company that QP used. My heart sank.
I sat up straight and answered. "Dewey Pellicano," I said briskly. Maybe it was just a sales call, trying to sign me up for more services. I would cut the operator right off.
"You're the contact for the Quilter Paradiso?" the voice said. "Your alarm is going off. We've notified the police. Thank you," he said, hanging up abruptly.
Buster looked over, eyebrows raised in question.
I ended the call, holding the phone out for emphasis. "The alarm is going off at the store," I said. "I can't believe this. Not now. This has never happened before."
"Probably just a squirrel or a crossed wire," Buster said.
I liked those scenarios. "Or the wind. That back door, if it's not closed just right, the wind can open it up."
Buster did an illegal U-turn to head us back toward the store. Breaking traffic rules now, for such a pedestrian reason.
He said, "When I was on patrol, we got these calls all the time. Usually it's nothing. I'll have you back to your place in no time."
"You'd better," I muttered.
Officer Wong was standing outside the shop in the back parking lot, on his cell phone when we arrived. He nodded at us and continued talking, "Yes, Detective Zorn, I'll let you know if there is anything here that relates to Bascomb. Right now, it looks like a routine breakin."
Breakin? My gut tightened, and I saw worry crease Buster's face. I knew he was reflecting the look on my face.
Wong was standing between me and the back door. I tried to go around him, but he held his hand up. He closed his phone and nodded at Buster, who nodded back.
"What's going on?" I said, while the two of them did their copdance exchange of expressions. Meaningful to them, I was sure. Buster was low on the homicide food chain, but he still had more prestige than Wong, even though they were about the same age. The police hierarchy was as complicated as a bee hive.
Wong said, "The call came in. When I got here, the back door was ajar. I've searched inside and found no one," he said to me.
"Does it look like someone forced their way in?" Buster said. A cold clammy sensation set up in my stomach. Buster was examining the lock and the door jamb, touching nothing, his eyes narrowed and brow tightened.
Officer Wong shook his head. "No sign of that." To me, he said, "I'd like you to go in and see if anything is missing."
I crossed the threshold tentatively and turned the alarm off. Most days I was the first one in the store, often before first light, but now the normal shapes looked sinister. I turned on the light that illuminated the hall. Buster was right behind me. I could feel his breath on my neck. I reached back and squeezed his hand, grateful for his presence.
We went through all the rooms, slowly and methodically. Buster asked me questions about where things had been. As far as I could see, nothing looked out of place.
Buster and I stood in my office. I checked the safe. The door was closed and securely locked. Buster looked for scratches on the surface to see if it might have been opened, but it was impossible to tell if they were new ones, or old, the result of me fumbling with the key lock on it.
I opened the safe using the key on my chain and checked the contents.
"Who locked up tonight?" Buster said, after I'd determined nothing was missing. "Is it possible that they just forgot? Then the wind caught the door and set off the alarm."
"It's possible," I said. "This is a crazy week. We're all really busy. Everyone's a bit absent-minded." I called Vangie. She picked up on the first ring. I knew she'd be waiting for Letterman to come on.
I said, "Sorry, I know it's late, but did you lock the back door?"
Vangie sounded like she was eating popcorn. She chewed noisily in my ear. "I left the store before Kym did. She was supposed to lock up. I bet she forgot. You know her, she's always in such a hurry."
Last month Kym had closed up and left a customer still in the bathroom. I'd gotten a frantic cell-phone call. "Damn. She must have gone out the front without double-checking the back. Sorry to bother you. I'll see you in the morning."
I hung up. Wong had joined us. I said to him, "It does
n't look like anyone was in here. I think the door just got left unlocked. One of my employees is a little lax."
Officer Wong looked grim. "Can you please follow me? I want to show you something."
I looked at Buster in a panic. My knees weakened. What had Wong found? Oh, please, not another body. I didn't want to move. Buster applied gentle pressure to the small of my back, and kissed my hair.
Wong was waiting in the kitchen, legs spread wide apart, arms akimbo. He looked stern. "Do you usually leave the keys on these hooks?" He pointed to the metal key rack that my mother had brought back from a buying trip back East. There were six metal houses, each one painted with a different quilt design. All of our keys hang from the hooks on the front doors during the day. Two store keys hung there now.
"When people come to work, they put their purses in the cubbies and put their keys on the hooks. It's convenient," I said. I finished weakly. "People around here lose their keys. A lot."
"Most of your employees have keys to the store?" Wong said. "And the keys hang here all day, with people in and out?"
I was getting the picture. "None have gone missing," I said defensively.
Wong said, "I'm saying, it wouldn't be difficult for someone to come in while the store was open, make a duplicate, and put the key back without your knowledge."
"And it's just foolish to leave this key here." He handed me the key clearly marked "safe"
I pocketed the safe key and accepted defeat. "I'll take the rack down tomorrow," I said.
Buster said, "You need to change the door locks."
That would cost hundreds of dollars. "I can't afford that right now.
Buster wasn't letting it go. "How many people have keys to the store, Dewey?"
I tried to count. When I realized all my mother's old employees might have keys, I stopped at a dozen.
"Everyone who has a key is trustworthy. My mother never had any trouble," I said.
Buster and Wong shared a look. To them, it was a cruel world, full of people ready to take advantage. "I believe you that your employees are nice people," Buster said. "But they have sons or boyfriends or nephews or nieces who might find the key a handy way to get in and help themselves to your stuff."
Wong said, "Happens all the time."
Buster and Wong were double-teaming me. I protested, "There is no way it's one of my employees."
Buster shrugged. "Chances are we'll never know. All I'm saying is you should think about changing the locks."
Sure, right after paying off my credit cards.
We rechecked the front door. It was secure. I walked with Wong and Buster out the back, reset the alarm and locked the door.
We started to say goodbye to Wong, when we heard raised voices. They were coming from the back of the parking lot, along the fence. Most of the cars were gone, only that hulking van remained behind. A second patrol car was parked on the street.
Tim Shore was talking with a policewoman.
"What's he doing here?" I asked, still ticked off at Shore for trying to pin the damage to his van on me earlier.
Wong said, "He was in his van when I got here. The noise of the alarm woke him up."
My scalp tingled. "He's sleeping in my parking lot?" I was incensed. "Where does he get off? Did you cite him?"
Wong shrugged. "He said the vehicle won't start, and he was afraid to leave it alone. Said it already got damaged once here."
I didn't care if Shore heard me. I raised my voice. "That guy is a scam artist."
Buster and Wong exchanged another look. I was getting mad that they weren't taking me seriously. I got louder. "He tried to tell me that that dent on his side panel was fresh. It's practically rusted. Not to mention someone would have to be a contortionist to hit his door the way the van is parked."
I clenched my fists. He really had my blood boiling. Where did he get off sleeping in my parking lot? "What if his van is still there the morning of the sale? My customers are getting here very early. I can't have him here. Can I have him towed out?"
"If you want to pay," Wong said.
More money. I shook my head in disgust.
Tim Shore made his way over. "Sorry about the breakin, Ms. Pellicano. Good thing I was here. I woke up when the alarm was going off, and came out to see what was going on. I think I scared him off."
His Eddie Haskell routine was too much to endure. He was trying to palm himself off as a one-man Neighborhood Watch. I didn't want to encourage him, so I ignored his comments about the breakin. "Look, you can't sleep in my parking lot. You need to get this van out of here."
He shrugged, his apologetic tone so different from the way he'd treated me this afternoon without the presence of Buster and Wong. "Sorry. I should be able to get a new starter tomorrow and get it out of your hair."
"Fine, but sleeping out here is not an option."
"I'll be out as soon as..."
Buster stepped forward. "Okay, buddy, it's time to move on. I'll take you over to the Flamingo Motel."
That was the local fleabag by-the-hour place. Buster winked at me and hustled Tim into his truck.
"I'll be back for you," he said, rubbing my upper arms.
Wong had paperwork I needed to fill out. "I'll have Wong drop me off. Meet me at my house."
This day could not end on just a sour note. After all this, I was more determined than ever to end this night with a bang.
It was just after midnight when I got home. Buster had started a fire in the living room. He was sitting on the couch when I came in, so I joined him, stretching out and putting my head in his lap.
"Everything go okay?" he said quietly.
I nodded. "I don't want to think about the store anymore. I don't want to think about anything."
"Okay," he said. His fingers circled my temples, and I felt myself begin to relax. I sunk a little deeper into his lap. Buster shifted slightly. I realized my head was causing him growing discomfort. I liked the feeling.
The fireplace crackled, making us both jump. I laughed and sat up. I wriggled my butt against his lap, feeling the anticipated stiffness. I settled back on his chest, letting my body rise and fall with his breathing. He tightened his grip on me, pulling me even closer.
I sank into Buster's strong body, suddenly feeling heat rise in me that wasn't coming from the fireplace. I twisted and caught his mouth full on.
His eyes opened wide as he felt the intent in my kiss. He opened his arms and laid down on the couch. I stretched out next to him, so we were lying face to face, our bodies taut. I kissed him again, lingering, feeding myself from his mouth. I felt everything else drop away. The busy store, Kym, Kevin, the breakin, one by one leaving my psyche. The more we kissed, the more the world disappeared.
His hips twitched. I felt a burst of energy and tugged his shirt out of his pants. He pulled the shirt and his undershirt off in one motion. I laid my head down on his bare chest and heard his heart beating wildly.
I pushed myself up on my arms and looked in his eyes. As blue as the sky and as open and trusting. There was nothing behind them but compassion and sweetness. His eyes flashed, and I saw something else. Passion. Desire. Love?
A shift occurred, and we both felt it. The time was right. No more teasing.
I dragged my fingers along his pant leg, and felt him surge toward me. He closed his eyes and sighed.
His phone rang. His eyes flew open and to the coffee table where he'd laid it.
"It's Sanchez," he said. He looked like he wanted to answer it. The phone rang again, and I sat up. He ruffled his hands through his hair. He looked so handsome, with his blues eyes flashing.
He picked up the phone and walked into the kitchen with it, adjusting his pants. I heard a few grunts of acquiescence. I went to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of wine. I could tell by his voice, my evening fun was over. I felt like crap, like I'd been drinking too much. I went and put on my pajamas, a T-shirt and cotton pants.
When he hung up, he held the phone in his h
and, running his other hand over the countertop between us. I could hardly see him. Only the night light on the stove was on, and little light came in from outside. I could hear crickets in my backyard talking to each other.
Buster folded his phone. "I have to go to Los Angeles."
"Now?" I said.
Buster nodded unhappily. "We've got to see this inmate at L.A. County Jail first thing in the morning. It'll take us five hours to get there."
I drank my wine, trying to feign a cool sophistication I didn't feel. I would be okay with this, just another in a series of interruptions, but right now it felt shitty. I tried to remember where I'd put that Costco-sized bag of M&Ms. I was going to need it.
Buster was apologetic. "The guy has a court date tomorrow, and if we don't see him before that, we'll never get in to see him. Depending how his case goes, he might be transferred... " Buster started.
"It's okay," I said. "It's your job. I understand. We just spent two hours dealing with my job, didn't we? That's how it goes." I sounded more understanding than I felt, but I knew the score.
Buster said, "The good news is my laundry is still in my truck, so I have a change of clothes to take with me. I don't need to go home first and pack."
"Okay," I said tentatively, not knowing where this was going.
Buster moved closer. "I have to pick up Sanchez in a half-hour. So I've got twenty minutes or so before I have to leave."
He took my wine glass and set it on the counter.
"Great," I said tentatively.
"I know just what you need," he said, sliding a hand under my waistband.
"What are you doing?" I said, startled. I was trapped between Buster and the counter.
"I might have to leave, but that doesn't mean I can't leave you nice and relaxed," he said, nuzzling my neck. His hand was snaking down my pants.
I jerked away abruptly, his head and mine crashing painfully. "What? Another one of your one-way tickets to the funhouse?"
