Читать книгу D.b. Hayes, Detective - Dani Sinclair - Страница 11

Didn’t it just figure? The first interesting man I’ve seen since moving back home turned out to be the lover of the woman I’d been hired to follow. I shrugged philosophically. If he was the sort who had affairs with married women, he wasn’t my type anyhow.

I let some time elapse before crossing the street. Instead of following him inside, I headed straight for the burgundy Honda. Unfortunately Elaine’s boyfriend wasn’t as accommodating as she’d been. He’d locked his car and its insides were anything but pristine. I couldn’t see much besides fast-food wrappers, empty paper cups, CD cases and a paperback whose title I couldn’t make out. Somehow that the handsome man was a bit of a slob made me feel a little better.

As I moved around the car I discovered the Honda had a broken taillight and a dent in back on the left-hand side. Since I’d followed that car when we’d left the Russos’ place, I knew that dent hadn’t been there earlier. Though I hadn’t noticed his car there, I was guessing he’d been part of the accident in the parking lot at Legacy Village that had nearly caused me to lose Elaine. That meant he’d been following her, too, which didn’t make a bit of sense. What was the point if they’d been scheduled to meet here anyhow?

I didn’t like this, not even a little. I was feeling very edgy as I noted the time and took down the plate number before heading for the main entrance. Victor’s was nothing more than an upscale bar that showcased a baby-grand piano. This being a Monday night, there was no one at the keyboard. A player piano along the far wall was belting out an old rock-and-roll tune.

There were only a handful of customers inside and most of them were sitting at the bar itself. I nodded to the bartender, ignored the other stares and strode toward the back as if I knew where I was going. Turned out I did. The restrooms were back there and so was my quarry. They were sitting in a booth conveniently close to the ladies’ room. The man glanced my way as I strode past, but I didn’t look in their direction. I didn’t think he would recognize me. How could he?

Setting my camera down on a shelf, I washed my cuts in the cracked but surprisingly clean sink. I wanted to give the couple time to forget about me. The scratches were red and angry looking, not to mention painful, but they didn’t look infected and I figured they were my own fault. The cats had only been fighting for their freedom. I couldn’t blame them. After all, I was a stranger and only one of them was Mr. Sam.

By cracking open the bathroom door, I had an unobstructed view of the couple’s table. I was glad now that I’d gone to the expense of an infrared lens for my camera. A flash would have been a noticeable problem. As it was, I snapped several pictures of them with their heads together before striding back past them. It was probably my imagination, but I felt his eyes on my back all the way to the door.

There was an ATM on the corner of the building next door. I figured I had time to use it if I hurried. As it turned out, I hadn’t even needed to hurry. They took their time inside. I got several good shots of them coming out, still looking extremely cozy. The hunk helped her inside his car while I sprinted back to Binky.

Sam Two was sitting on top of Sam One’s box. I think he’d been trying to let the other cat out. Fortunately he hadn’t succeeded. He jumped over the backseat the minute he saw me coming. I scrambled inside and started the engine.

“Okay, guys, I’m really, really sorry. Honest. We’re on our way to a motel unless I miss my guess. Once I get there, I’ll see what I can do to make things better for you. I’ll scrounge up some water and give you something to eat, okay?”

From the grumbling, it was less than satisfactory. Guilt gnawed on me as we made our way onto the highway. I like animals—sometimes more than people. I didn’t want anything to happen to these little guys, even if I wasn’t a cat person.

Since I was worried about the hunk spotting a tail, I hung back as far as I dared. Once seen, Binky was somewhat unforgettable. I really was going to have to get him painted one of these days, even if I had to buy a spray can and do it myself.

It wasn’t until the Honda headed for the Ohio Turnpike that I got worried. Were they running away together? Not that I blamed Elaine, mind you. Sexy young hunk versus balding old man with scary eyes wasn’t even a toss-up in my book. Heck, I’d be tempted to take off with the hunk, too, and I didn’t even have to go home to someone like Albert Russo. The problem was I couldn’t follow them forever. Binky wasn’t used to traveling any distance or at speeds over forty miles per hour. I had no idea what his top speed was, but I knew it wouldn’t be much before he blew something critical.

Not so the Honda. I got on the turnpike with extreme misgivings and had all I could do to keep the other car in sight. The hunk drove as if he didn’t have a second to spare.

Sweat was dribbling down my face and it had little to do with the temperature, which was cooling off even more as night claimed the sky. Getting on the turnpike for a simple tryst seemed a bit extreme.

Where the devil were they going?

If they were running away together, I was in deep trouble. After a while Binky’s oil light began flashing intermittently. Binky craves oil the way I crave diet soda, and I was pretty sure I didn’t have a can of either one in the trunk. If he broke down out here, I was in for it. Time to turn around.

Unfortunately I’d run out of exits by the time I firmly came to that decision. We’d come to the end of the Ohio Turnpike and I spotted the Honda near the head of the line to pay their toll.

I snapped a couple of quick pictures as I waited to one side of them, much farther back in my own line. As they went through, heading into Pennsylvania, I debated my options. The next exit was Beaver Falls. I had no choice. I’d have to turn around there and stop for oil so I could make it home. Even Albert Russo couldn’t expect me to follow them clear across Pennsylvania.

Could he?

Probably, I decided fatalistically, but that was too bad. He should have hired someone else. I had Binky and two cats to think about—not to mention forty-three dollars minus the toll left in my wallet.

To my surprise, the Honda turned off at Beaver Falls. I urged Binky to close the distance, hoping he wouldn’t blow a gasket or something even worse. My curiosity was going nuts, especially when they pulled into a jazzy-looking motel unit right off the highway. This was just too bizarre. They’d driven all the way into Pennsylvania for a quickie? What was wrong with the motels in Ohio? Admittedly this place looked brand new, but even so, traveling all this way for a little slap and tickle made no sense.

The hunk was inside getting registered when I pulled up with my camera and found a strategic place to park. I got some quality shots of the two of them in front of the motel, then going inside a room. Mr. Russo was going to be extremely pleased with the pictures, if not their content. He’d probably like a few more intimate shots, but I draw the line at voyeurism, even if I could have seen in around the heavy drape they pulled across the window.

It was a safe bet they’d be busy for the next half hour or so. I made a note of the time, left the car and the now silent cats and walked to the gas station on the corner for a can of oil for Binky, some water for the cats and a candy bar and a can of diet soda for me. I ate the candy on my way back and wished I’d bought more than one. I was starving.

Having dated a mechanic off and on, I’d learned more than I ever wanted to know about car engines. Replenishing the oil was child’s play. Except that sometime during my ministrations apparently my quarry split.

I couldn’t believe it. When I closed the hood and glanced over at their parking space, the Honda was gone and the room was dark. I looked at my watch and blinked. Good grief. He might look like a hunk, but he was definitely no stud.

Maybe they’d gone out for something to eat to recharge. Except that Elaine had just finished a full-course meal including dessert. As I hurried to the driver’s side and got in, I wondered if they’d had a fight and changed their minds. That’s when I realized I had a second problem. Sam One had escaped.

Oh, he was still in the car—unless he’d been able to squeeze himself through one of the side vent windows. And I sincerely doubted that, even if he was the thinner of the two cats. I peered over the seat and four green eyes peered back at me from the floor.

“You helped him get out, didn’t you?”

Neither of them so much as blinked.

“Okay, fine. If you want company that bad, you can have it. As long as you both stay back there and out from under my feet, we’ll get along fine. I’ve got some water for you, but I guess it had better wait until we stop again. We’re going home, so hang on.”

Binky started with a grinding noise I knew he shouldn’t be making. But he did start and that was what counted. So, unfortunately, did the cries from the backseat.

“Knock it off, you’re giving me a headache.”

Obviously they didn’t care.

Since there was no sign of the Honda in either direction, I decided there was little point in driving around aimlessly looking for it. I should have enough pictures to satisfy Mr. Russo for one night.

It was an uneventful trip back to Ohio if you didn’t count the ruckus the cats made. I counted it. Particularly when they started hissing and snarling at each other. One of the Sams nearly gave me a heart attack when he leaped back over the passenger seat, bounced off the box and landed on the floor beside me.

“Hey! Beat it! I’m trying to drive here.”

He hunkered down on the floor and hissed at me. It was a fun trip. Mickey had given me forty-two dollars to find the cat, but there wasn’t enough money in the world to put up with this. At least they stayed out from under my feet while I drove, but I lived in fear the whole way home.

I’d never been so grateful to park in my life—until I remembered I was going to have to find some way to smuggle the two cats inside without being seen. My apartment doesn’t allow pets. They barely allow humans.

When I reached for the nearest cat, it drew back and took a swipe at me. Since my hand was still throbbing, I decided not to argue without protection. I hurried inside the building, dug out my winter leather gloves and a jacket and went back to the parking lot to play big-game hunter.

I’m sure it looked vastly entertaining to anyone watching—as long as that anyone wasn’t the super. I hoped that nosy woman was absorbed in her television at this hour, because she and her husband lived in the building and they didn’t miss much.

Sam One was actually a pretty easy catch. He struggled briefly but almost seemed to welcome being dumped back inside the box. Maybe Sam Two had scared him. As long as he wasn’t hurt, that was fine with me.

I carried the box inside and set it on the living room floor while I went back outside for the litter, litter pan and food I’d purchased and put in the trunk. Sam One seized the opportunity to escape the box and disappeared behind a chair. Fine with me. It’s a small apartment. There weren’t too many other places he could go.

I got a dish of water and set everything on the bathroom floor before I went back out to try and catch Sam Two. He had no interest in letting me near him again, treats or not. He didn’t intend to be taken without a fight. The little beast put a hole in my jacket and ruined my gloves before I got him out of the backseat and into the box.

If there had been anyone in the lobby or on the steps as I ran upstairs with my yowling prize, I’d have been given an eviction notice on the spot.

The moment I plopped the box on the living room floor, the ungrateful little beast pushed up the flap and took off down the hall to disappear inside my bedroom. Not good. I did not want that cat in my bedroom. But after peering under the bed and being stared down by a pair of defiant green eyes, I decided he could stay. I wasn’t up for another battle.

After zapping a frozen dinner to fill my stomach, I decided I’d better download the photos before calling it a night. There was an especially good one of the hunk. I framed out the face and blew it up for a closer look. Despite the grainy texture his features were clear. He had light-colored eyes, probably blue, and rugged, sharply defined features.

I traced the square face on the screen with a fingertip. It was a strong face and very symmetrical—the face of a man who took charge and got things done.

“In a hurry,” I added aloud with a snicker as I remembered how short a time he’d spent in the motel room. “So much for gorgeous hunks. You really should get a haircut, you know.”

But instead of deleting the picture, I printed it out along with the others and set it to one side before I carefully marked and stored the memory stick. By the time I’d typed up my notes into a report, I was yawning. There hadn’t been a sound from either of my unwanted guests, so I went in search of them.

One was still under my bed. The other was squished behind the blue hand-me-down sofa in the living room. I worried that he might be stuck back there, but when I would have moved it out from the wall, he proved me wrong by wriggling even farther back from the end.

“Fine. You want to spend the night back there, be my guest.”

I wasn’t quite as happy about the one under my bed, but as long as he stayed put, we’d be fine. I set my alarm so I wouldn’t oversleep and got ready for bed.

I needn’t have bothered with the alarm. The catfight woke me before eight. Even I’m not enough of a zombie to sleep through noises like those, especially when the sounds were coming from the foot of my bed.

“Knock it off!”

The sudden silence was almost as loud as the fight had been. I swung my legs off the bed and one of the Sams streaked out of the room. The other one must have gone back under the bed because there was no sign of it.

Great. It wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning and I was wide awake. My body clock doesn’t normally start until mid-morning, after a couple of diet colas. Obviously this was not going to be a normal day. I’d be very happy when Mickey claimed Mr. Sam so I could take the other cat to the animal shelter.

By the time I was dressed and ready to leave, I decided I was risking all-out war by leaving the two of them together unattended. I made a second makeshift litter box out of the cardboard box by cutting it down and lining it with aluminum foil. I left it in my bedroom with Sam Two and a second bowl of food and water.

I actually got to the shop ahead of my aunt and Trudy and utilized the time by setting up for the morning. I had coffee brewing and had started on the first of the day’s arrangements by the time the pair arrived.

“Well, you’re here bright and early this morning,” Trudy greeted in surprise.

“How did your evening go, dear? I thought you wanted to borrow my car last night,” Aunt Lacy added.

“The evening was…interesting,” I told them, “and it turned out I didn’t have time to borrow the car, but it worked out okay. Mr. Russo is sending someone over to pick up his report first thing this morning. And if a young boy named Mickey shows up looking for me while I’m busy, keep him here at all costs.”

“A young boy?” Trudy said, raising one eyebrow in question.

I hated when she did that. I’d been trying to do it ever since I can remember, but my face just isn’t built right.

“He’s ten,” I said to head off the direction her thoughts were taking.

It was part of a grand conspiracy, of course. My entire family figured if I got married, I’d give up this silly nonsense of being a private investigator. And what their matchmaking lacked in subtlety, it made up for in sheer volume. Any male in the right age bracket was considered fair game.

“Dee,” Aunt Lacy said in an urgent whisper. “There’s a man standing at the front door. I think it may be Mr. Russo’s, uh, person.”

Her alarmed expression brought me around the counter in a hurry. The man standing on the other side of the glass door didn’t move. I had the sense he was prepared to stand there indefinitely, like the boulder he resembled. Solid, unmovable, timeworn yet sinister in a way I didn’t want to define.

A craggy gray face perched over a gray silk tie on a gray silk shirt under a light gray pinstripe suit. If he had a neck, it wasn’t obvious, but then boulders rarely have necks. Central casting would have loved this guy. Even his hair was turning gray at the edges. The only part that looked alive was a pair of incongruous light brown eyes, and they didn’t miss a thing.

He’d seen me, so there was nothing for it but to open the door and let all that sinister gray inside the colorful shop. He was going to look out of place. If that man had ever been inside a flower shop in his life, I’d eat the daisy in my hand.

“Ms. Hayes,” he said when I unlocked the door, “I’m Hogan Delvecchi. Mr. Russo sent me.”

A nervous giggle tried to break free. I suppressed the urge—barely. This was too much like some bad television show—a softly spoken gangster with an Italian last name. And Hogan? Was he kidding? No, I could see he wasn’t. There was certainly nothing humorous in his expression. And he seemed to have only the one—a blank stare that absorbed the details of everything around him without revealing his thoughts. I was pretty sure his face was incapable of smiling. Human boulders don’t have a sense of humor.

Everything about the man gave me the creeping willies. I worked hard not to let it show.

“Come in, Mr. Delvecchi. I’ve been expecting you.”

Well, not him. No one in their right mind would expect him. And the thing was I wanted him gone as fast as possible. I would never doubt Trudy or my aunt’s sources again. If this guy didn’t have underworld connections, no one did.

“I’ll just get my report.”

My heart hammered its way up my throat when he followed me back to the office. He closed the door as I reached for the folder on the end of the desk. I caught him staring at the scratches on my hand.

“Did you have any problems?” he asked.

“N-no.”

I was not going to explain about the cats, nor would I think about how the couple had left the motel when I wasn’t looking. It was all in the report. I knew it made me look bad, but what could I do? I wasn’t about to lie to a mobster. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to mention my failings to this guy if I didn’t have to.

“Good. Mr. Russo would like to have the picture of his wife back.”

That surprised me, but I pulled it from her file. Hogan Delvecchi reached a broad hand inside his suit jacket. My breath caught in the back of my throat. With slow deliberation he pulled out a slim piece of paper and extended it to me. A check, I realized in relief.

I tried not to shake as I took it from his hand, but my legs were emulating gelatin just like my insides. He knew it, I was sure. It probably gave him some sort of salacious thrill to go around scaring people by being polite. Let it. I just wanted him gone.

Less than a minute later he was.

“Well,” Trudy said, coming to stand in the open doorway. “He wasn’t much for conversation, was he?”

I sank down in the swivel chair and it tilted precariously until I readjusted my weight.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Aunt Lacy asked, coming into view, as well.

“Terrific. He even paid me.”

Except, how had he known what to pay? For the first time I really looked at the check in my sweaty palm. Once again my heart began to pound.

“He overpaid.”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“No it isn’t. It’s terrible. Now I have to call Mr. Russo and return the extra three hundred forty-seven dollars he overpaid.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, dear. A man like Mr. Russo can afford to tip generously.”

“Tip? You think it’s a tip?” When he read my report and saw I’d lost them at the motel, he’d want more than his “tip” back.

“At least he didn’t shoot anyone,” Trudy said glibly as the two of them moved out into the workroom.

No. That would come after Mr. Russo read the report. I’d placed an itemized bill right on top. He’d know exactly how much he’d overpaid. I closed my eyes and groaned.

“Dee?” Trudy called out. “There’s a young man up front to see you.”

Now what? I wasn’t sure I could put on a friendly, professional face right now. I felt sick. It wasn’t wise to mess with gangsters. I should have listened to Aunt Lacy and Trudy right from the start and turned the job down.

I stuffed the check inside the desk drawer and squared my shoulders before going out to meet the newcomer. Once again I had to look down before I spotted him.

“Mickey!”

He was dressed in green shorts and a striped top today, but other than that he looked exactly the same. The same amazing chocolate-brown eyes looked up at me with an expression of hope mixed with fear.

“Did you find him?”

“I think so,” I told him. “Actually I found two cats. I’m not sure which one is Mr. Sam.”

“I gave you a picture,” he said, sounding disgusted.

“Yeah,” I said trying not to be defensive, “but he’s gray. So are these two guys.”

He looked around the shop and started toward the back. “Where are they?”

“At my place. Come on, I’ll give you a ride over and take you home afterward.”

Doubt filled his expression.

“I’m not allowed to ride in cars with strangers.”

Great. A kid who actually listened to his parents.

“You’ll have to bring them here,” he told me, sounding extremely adult.

I didn’t even have to think about that. The back of my hand was still smarting from the last set of scratches.

“How old did you say you are?”

“Ten.”

Going on thirty, I decided uncharitably.

“If you’re ten then you’re old enough to understand the difference between getting in a car with a stranger and getting in a car with me. I work for you, remember?”

He thought about that before standing a little straighter.

“Okay, but what about my bike?”

“Trudy, would it be okay if I take the van over to my apartment for a few minutes? My client and I need to pick up a cat.”

“No problem. We don’t have any deliveries until later this afternoon.”

“Thanks. This will only take a few minutes.” To the boy I asked, “How were you going to get him home on your bike?” If those cats had seemed frantic in a car, I could just imagine their reaction to a bicycle.

“I attached a basket to my handlebars and brought the cat carrier with me,” he explained.

Reaching down, he picked up a small carrier that had been on the floor at his feet, out of my line of sight. Based on its size, Sam One was the missing cat. Sam Two would have needed a shoehorn.

I secured the bike in the back of the van and drove the short distance to my apartment. I’d be glad to have those animals gone before the super realized they were inside the building.

“What happened to your hand?” Mickey asked.

“Mr. Sam. He doesn’t like cars.”

“Most cats don’t,” the kid said philosophically. “I hope you put something on that. Cat scratches can be dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?” I asked nervously.

“You know, germs and stuff.”

“Right.” Germs and stuff. No good deed goes unpunished, as Trudy is fond of saying. In this case, I devoutly hoped she was wrong. If I got an infection because of that stupid cat, I was not going to be happy.

Mickey tensed a little as we started walking into my building a few minutes later. I hated to go against the smart conditioning his parents had put on him, but I was not going to go up there and try to cage that little monster by myself. He’d had all the skin he was going to get off my body.

I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door carefully. No blur of gray came running out to greet us.

“Where is he?” Mickey demanded.

“I’m not sure. One of them is in my bedroom. The other one was hiding behind the couch the last time I saw him.”

The kid whipped out a bag of treats. I wouldn’t have thought he could have stuffed something that size into the pocket of those shorts.

“Here, Sam. Here, Sammy.”

He got down on the floor and rattled the bag. Nothing happened.

“He always comes out for treats,” Mickey said plaintively.

“He’s probably nervous. This is a strange place for him.”

I walked over and tugged the couch out from the wall. A gray streak whipped past me to cower behind the potted palm frond near the window.

“It’s okay, Sammy, it’s me.” Mickey walked over toward the plant, and the cat scooted around the chair and took off toward the kitchen.

“That’s not Mr. Sam,” Mickey said.

“How can you tell?”

He gave me another of those disturbingly adult looks that said plainly what he thought of my inability to distinguish the difference between the picture he had given me and the cat now hiding somewhere in my kitchen.

“Okay,” I said, “then it must be the one in the bedroom.”

Mickey had to crawl under the bed with a flashlight to see Sam Two. He crawled back out in disgust.

“That’s not Mr. Sam either.”

My stomach churned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

Of course he was. I remembered the other gray cat I’d seen as I was leaving the park and my heart plunged to meet my roiling stomach. I was going to have to go back to the park.

“We’ve gotta find him. My uncle’s coming for dinner this week. We hav’ta find him before then.”

Of course we did. The kid looked ready to cry. I had no idea what to do if he started crying. He looked so upset, I heard myself telling him about the other cat I’d seen and agreeing to help him try and find it.

It was those darn eyes of his, I told myself half an hour later as we scoured the park for gray cats. I’m a sucker for soft eyes like those. But the word had gone out. Avoid the crazy lady at all costs. We didn’t even see a cat, let alone a gray one.

“I hav’ta go home,” Mickey told me, looking pathetically discouraged. “My mom’s picking me up to go shopping.”

He made it sound like a surgical ordeal.

“All right. I’ll run you home and come back. I can keep looking for a little while longer.”

Hope replaced his despair.

“Thanks! You can keep the carrier. I’ll take my bike and come to the store as soon as I get back.”

Wondering when my brain had turned to fuzz, I agreed and got his bike from the back of the van. “Where do you live, Mickey?”

“On Broadhurst.”

Two streets away.

“Maybe I should concentrate on some of the side streets between here and there. He’s probably hiding in someone’s bushes.”

“Okay. Just find him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Only, after walking four blocks in both directions, I decided to call it quits. The cat could be anywhere. He was probably up some tree laughing at me as I trudged past making kissy noises at the bushes. The day was heating up in an effort to top yesterday, and I was wilting faster than cut flowers left out of water.

As I crossed to my car, I spotted a little gray cat trotting across the parking lot. This one had four white paws. Looking at the picture Mickey had given me, I realized the paws didn’t show. I’d forgotten to ask the kid if the cat was all gray. How could I have forgotten something so basic?

The little guy came willingly when I called him Mr. Sam. He was much smaller than the other two cats and his hair wasn’t as long, but he was mostly gray and that was good enough for me. He even went into the carrier without a fuss. Elated, I headed back to the shop with my prize.

Trudy and Aunt Lacy had to hear the entire tale once I got back. They fussed over the small cat like a pair of broody hens. Mr. Sam seemed to enjoy all the attention—a refreshing change from the first two.

Trudy and my aunt sent me down the street to pick up more cat food and litter, even though I explained we wouldn’t have him more than a few hours, but when I got back, they were looking at me with the same sort of expression I’d come to expect from Mickey.

“Didn’t you say this cat was called Mr. Sam?” Aunt Lacy asked.

“Wrong sex,” Trudy said.

“What?”

“She’s a she, and if she’s over a year old, it can’t be by much.”

I groaned. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” my aunt told me. “You’ll need to make signs.”

“Signs?”

“Well, you can’t turn the poor little thing loose on the street,” she objected.

“But that’s where I found her.”

“Use your camera to take her picture and make some Found signs so we can find her owner,” Aunt Lacy insisted.

There was no arguing with that tone of voice. I went and got my digital camera. I was printing the Found Cat signs when I heard a commotion out front.

“I said you can’t go back there! Sir! You can’t go back there!”

I didn’t even have time to get up before a large shape filled the office doorway. Elaine Russo’s lover stood framed there. His eyes were a brilliant blue, I discovered, and they could shoot invisible flames. Those flames ignited a heat that started low in my belly and spread outward at an alarming rate.

“What did you do with her?” he demanded.