An Affair to Dismember (12 page)

“Did you touch something?”

“No,” I lied. I coughed and sputtered and sweat rolled down the side of my face. I stood up. “Look, I have to go home and work. I’ve taken off way too much time today. Love calls, you know.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Pinkie, until my men arrive and we get this wrapped up. Sit down.”

“Hands up, punk!”

The super crashed through the open door, the biggest gun I had ever seen in his trembling hands, his finger on the trigger. Spencer didn’t lose his cool.

“Whoa, buddy,” he said, calmly. “Take it easy.”

“I will not take it easy. Get your hands off the girl before I blow a hole through your middle so big they’ll be able to drive trucks through it.”

Spencer removed his hand from my shoulder. “It’s not what it looks like. I’m a cop. Let me show you my badge.”

But the super wasn’t listening. Instead, he was looking down at Jimmy the Fink’s corpse. “What’d you do to Jimmy? Jesus Christ, you got a gun!” Spencer had reached for his badge but in doing so, had revealed his sidearm.

“Sir, I’m a cop. I’m the chief of police. Let me show you my badge.”

“Is that true?” The question was directed to me.

“Well …,” I said, shrugging.

This seemed to be the answer the super was looking for.

“Freeze! Don’t move a muscle,” he shouted at Spencer.

“May I go now? I’m not feeling very well,” I said. And just like that, I left the room, the super’s gun pointed at Spencer’s head, Jimmy the Fink dead on the floor, and Jimmy’s mail stuffed in my purse. In a few minutes the police would arrive and everything would be settled. In the meantime, was my presence really necessary?

I hopped in Spencer’s car and drove home.

I PARKED Spencer’s car down the block from my grandmother’s house and walked the rest of the way. Despite the heat of the afternoon, I was chilly and exhausted. The reality of seeing my first dead body hit me hard. In the adrenaline-filled moment of investigating a murder, I had forgotten about the humanity of the lifeless
form on the floor of that room. Now it was rushing back at me, and I felt light-headed and weak.

Grandma’s parlor was quiet for a change. She met me at the door, taking my hands in hers. “There, there,” she said. “You’ve had quite a day. There’s fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese for dinner with peach pie à la mode for dessert. That will pick you up.”

“Thank you, Grandma,” I said. My eyes welled up and a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

“And we have company,” she added. “He’s such a nice young man. I think you’ve met.” We walked into the kitchen, and the man rose from his seat at the table to greet us.

“Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting your granddaughter. Gladie, how nice to see you again.”

Holden was dressed in a button-front shirt, worn Levi’s, and work boots. He was tall and took up a lot of space in my grandma’s kitchen, but he looked like he belonged there, like the house was built around him. The evening light shined through the windows, highlighting him like a saintly figure in a cathedral. An image of Holden dressed as Sir Galahad flashed through my mind. Only a few hours before he had saved me from Peter Terns. My very own Sir Galahad, and I hadn’t thanked him.

Here he was now in my grandmother’s kitchen, perhaps to save me from the rest of my day. His eyes focused on me with caring, concern, and something else. Attraction. Or maybe hunger. I was hungry, too. The fried chicken smell was awfully strong. But I didn’t think it was the aroma that had Holden’s appetite up. His eyes flicked to my cleavage, and his eyes grew dark. My breath hitched.

“Thank you,” I told Grandma. What better to go
with all my favorite comfort foods than a man I wanted to melt into and forget my troubles?

“Holden brought the food,” Grandma said. “Wasn’t that kind? A man who brings mashed potatoes is a keeper.” She smiled big and gently slapped Holden’s cheek. He gave me a crooked smile.

“We were talking outside earlier, and your grandmother mentioned you might need a good meal,” he explained.

We ate dinner together. Me in my red dress, Holden in his rugged Levi’s, and Grandma in her pink faux Galliano off-the-shoulder gown and blue-feathered hat with black lace veil. We didn’t discuss the police, dead people, or even matchmaking but stuck to cozy subjects like Paul Newman movies, old roller coasters versus new roller coasters, and Grandma’s roses. It was comfortable, easy, with an undercurrent coming from Holden that made me warm all over.

After dinner I walked Holden to the door, and he took my hand. “Thanks for a beautiful evening,” he said.

“My grandmother likes you.”

Holden chuckled. “After I promised not to dig up her roses, she positively loves me. Do you think we can do this again?”

“Dinner with my grandma?”

“Dinner with you, just you and me. Maybe you could wear this dress again.” He slipped a finger under my shoulder strap and ran it over my shoulder. My body went warm. My throat constricted.

There was a reason we weren’t supposed to be standing so close, but I couldn’t think of what it could be. There was a reason I shouldn’t allow him to kiss me, but I couldn’t think of what that could be, either. Too late. He bent down, an unmistakable look in his eyes, his lips centimeters from mine. I closed my eyes and felt the electricity between us as he grew closer.

“Leftovers!” Grandma’s voice sang out. She skipped into the parlor, carrying a large package. “I’m so glad I caught you. Boy, you take a long time to say goodbye. Oh, Gladie, you look flushed. Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down.” She handed the package to Holden. “There you go. Perfect for your lunch tomorrow.”

Holden left with a handshake and his package of leftovers.

“Grandma, you’re bad for my sex life,” I said.

“That’s the first time anybody has ever said that to me, dolly.” She was wide-eyed innocence with a devilish grin.

I should have thanked her. It wouldn’t do to kiss my first client. Besides, I was completely exhausted. I took a quick shower, put on my comfiest sweats, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The good thing about having two sexy men enter your life is the dreams they provoke. That night I had a stellar dream about Spencer and Holden. They were naked, and I was eating ice cream. They pleaded with me to choose one of them. I pointed and did the eenie-meenie-miney-moe routine, even though I knew which one I would pick.

“Don’t scream.”

His voice was calm and quiet, but gravelly. The images of my dream disappeared, leaving me half awake, cuddled under the covers of my bed, lying on my side in a fetal position. I squirmed, trying to get back to sleep. That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone.

“No, don’t scream.”

My eyes fluttered open. Lying next to me on his side was Spencer. Our noses nearly touched. His sleepy eyes watched me with great interest.

“I’m going to scream,” I said.

“Don’t scream.”

“The scream is bubbling up in the back of my throat.”

“Hold it back. Swallow it.”

“It’s too big. I can’t stop it. Here it comes.”

“Gladie, do not scream,” Spencer said in his best cop voice.

“Hey, this is my bed. You’re in my bed,” I said, stating the obvious.

“It’s nice,” he said. “The mattress is a little soft for my taste, though.”

“Spencer, get out of my bed.”

“Not just yet. We have unfinished business.”

“Yep, I really think I’m going to scream.”

“If you scream, you’ll wake up your grandma.”

“What time is it?”

“Four-thirty.”

I had a sudden realization about my morning breath and put the blanket over my mouth. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Well, for starters, you stole my car.”

“I parked it down the street.”

“With the keys in it. Very thoughtful. It was a miracle it was still there. Grand theft auto aside, you almost got me shot. The super had his gun to my head for twenty minutes. I should throw your little behind in jail.”

As much as I was thrilled he thought my behind was little, I was tired of our early morning chat.

“This is breaking and entering,” I pointed out.

He pulled the blanket down away from my face. “You want to call the cops?” he asked. “Seriously, you need to listen to me. Stay away from this case. Randy Terns’ gang members are serious business.”

“It’s down to one gang member,” I reminded him.

“All the more reason to stay away. Whoever’s out there is impatient and making things move fast. If you get in his way, he may not like it.”

I chewed the side of my cheek. Spencer knocked gently on my head.

“Am I getting through to you? Are you going to back off? Curiosity killed the cat, you know. Aren’t you supposed to be fixing up people? Doesn’t that keep you busy enough?”

“Business is slow.”

He arched an eyebrow, and his lips curved up in his signature smirk. “You didn’t answer me, Gladie. Are you going to back off?”

“Uh …”

“Look, as far as you’re concerned, this case is over. So, say goodbye, adios, au revoir, ciao, sayonara, baby.”

“How did we get on the It’s a Small World ride?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I promise you’ll be the first to know when I find out anything.” He kicked his shoes off the bed and turned onto his stomach. “I’m beat. I was up all night processing the scene. If I play my cards right, I can get three hours in before I have to go back to work.”

“You’re not sleeping here in bed with me.”

“Fine, you can go. I need some sleep.”

Spencer’s breathing grew deep. I gave him a shove. “Spencer, how was Jimmy the Fink killed?” I asked.

“Undetermined. Waiting on a tox report. Go to sleep. And don’t snore.”

“You have to go. I’m serious.” Spencer yawned and punched his pillow.

“Is that what you normally wear to bed?” he asked. I pulled the blanket closer to me.

“Did you look under the covers?”

“Just a peek,” he muttered.

I gave him another shove, but he was dead to the world. I closed my eyes, but sleep was hard in coming. Something Spencer said would not leave my brain. Randy’s gang meant business. Tomorrow was Sunday, and I knew what I had to do.

I WOKE up before Spencer. We lay glued together, my head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me, my left leg draped over his hard belly. I was horrified and clueless on how to extricate myself from the embarrassing position when he woke. His eyes popped open, and he took stock of his place on my bed. He stretched and removed my leg like he was removing lint from his shirt and this sort of thing happened to him all the time.