Braking for Bodies (14 page)

Can't wait to C U,
I lied back.

When I got to the bike shop, a working dray with two behemoth brown horses pulling the wagon sat parked at the curb. Big guys muscled boxes marked
Furniture by Design
off the wagon, as Mother pointed the way up the side walkway to her office. She turned
to me, beaming. “My own office.” I'd never seen Mother happier. “Law Office 101 is now official. Guess you're never too old to have your dreams come true. Angelo's taking me to dinner at the Grand tonight to celebrate, and you should join us, Evie. I wouldn't be here without you.”

I kissed Mother on the cheek and gave her a hug. “And I wouldn't be here without you. Have fun tonight.”

I took the ramp into the bike shop, where Cal was rolling back and forth across the floor . . . pacing wheelchair style. “Good, you're back,” he said as I parked Nancy next to the workbench. “The ferries are running now and we had a big crowd in here and two little girls would like you to paint a couple of”—he pulled a paper from his jeans pocket—“My Little Pony bikes, one pink, one purple, and if you could find a way to add a swishy tail off the back they'd love you forever. Rudy had to leave to make more fudge and it's almost ten, I got to get out of here.”

“You turn into a pumpkin at ten?”

“I have to get up to the fort and fire the cannon, it's one of my duties.”

“Right, what would we all do around here without a good cannon blast to scare the crap out of us at ten o'clock every day.”

Cal grinned, his sandy hair falling over his forehead. “You're cute when you're sarcastic, but at the moment you kinda look like roadkill.”

“Ah, Cal, you're one sweet-talking son of a gun.”

“And don't I know it.” He swaggered and held up his arm to show off his very fine muscles. “Me and the guns here got serious juice. We'll make it up to the fort in time to scare the crap out of you at ten, you can count on it. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Cal zoomed off and I plopped down on the stool and sprang right back up like a jack-in-the-box. It hurt to stand, it hurt to sit. The only good thing was that the worst part of the day had to be behind me, literally, right?

“Stick a fork in me, I'm done,” Irma blubbered as she barged into the shop. “Now the Happily Ever After quartet can't make my wedding. They're in Canada and can't get out. Got arrested for taking smoked salmon across the border.”

“Seems a little extreme for a few fish.”

“Try a semi full, and the Happily Ever Afters sure aren't happy and neither am I. It's a sign, the final one in the long list of no dress, no flowers, no minister, no venue, no food.”

“The caterer?”

“Max eloped with Eugene that bartender over at the Pink Pony. We all saw it coming and that's good, but it's another sign that I'm not supposed to get married. The wedding's off.”

“W
ait a minute.” I put my hands on Irma's shoulders. “There's no such thing as a sign; Rudy told me that a long time ago.”

“That's 'cause he's a sweetie and didn't want to upset you. You got the black cloud for sure. Just look at yourself, you're a mess. And now I got the sign too, only mine is a smoked salmon in Canada. You can't buck a sign like that.”

Two customers came in, took one look at me and stopped dead. “I got run over in the fog,” I explained, needing to say something. I pointed to Nancy Drew. “It was a wreck, all because of the low visibility this morning, but it's nice out there now; you can see for miles. Riding a bike is really safe and a lot of fun.”

“Doesn't look safe.” The customer in a straw hat started for the door.

“What about these terrific Downton Abbey bikes? I have two left. See, there's the castle there on the bumper.”

After more fast-talking I rented the Downtons, demonstrated how to strap on helmets and even threw in kneepads and elbow pads and directions to the medical clinic just in case. I turned back to Irma sitting in Rudy's white wicker rocker with Bambino and Cleveland snuggled in her lap purring their heads off.

“See,” she sniffed, “this proves it.” She petted one, then the other. “I'm destined to be a crazy cat lady and these two know it. It's over for me. My window of marital opportunity has closed.”

“Irma, you were making fudge, you smell like butter and cream. These cats would snuggle with Godzilla if he smelled like that. Go talk to Rudy and I'll think of something to make this wedding happen.”

Irma looked up at me with watery eyes. “Here on the island tomorrow? Tomorrow's my wedding day; we've been planning for months.”

“Of course, here on Mackinac. Tomorrow.” I had no idea how to pull it off in twenty-four hours, but Irma looked so sad I had to say something positive. She and Rudy were the perfect couple and they deserved to be married their way. But by six thirty I had no idea how to pull it off. Irma could get married in any nice dress, but what about food, venue, minister and music? I had no idea how to handle any of those problems.

I locked up, grabbed the box of Cocoa Puffs from the kitchen for dinner and headed for my bedroom upstairs. I wanted to stay open till seven with business being so good, but Idle's show started at nine and my plan was to catch her before and talk so I could follow Penelope after.

I didn't want to talk and I didn't want to follow. I wanted to take a bath, eat peanut butter right out of the jar and watch reruns of
Gilmore Girls
and then go to bed. I wanted this day to be over.

Instead I pulled out my blue silk dress with the flippy skirt that I hadn't worn since my Chicago days, dug my strappy heels out of the back of the closet and trashed my old mascara that had congealed into a clump of goo. I had to go glitzy to blend in with the evening crowd at the Grand. And after one shower and a half bottle of Cover Girl to cover scratches and bruises on my face and arms, followed by wiggling into panty hose to hide the scrapes on my legs, I caught a taxi. I never took taxis; they were expensive and someone else did the driving, not that I was a control freak or anything. Tonight I was just too tired to freak.

*   *   *

“Hey, lady,” a
voice said, as someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Wake up.” I cranked open my eyes, gazing into dark brown ones. “You said you were going to the Grand. Well, rise and shine, this is your stop. You were really zonked.”

“Been a tough day.”

“That explains the snoring.” He offered his hand and I climbed from the wagon into the milling crowd on the sidewalk. The yellow crime scene tape still cordoned off the path at the far end of the hotel, and a cool lake breeze ruffled through the trees. I pulled the lace pashmina over my shoulders—
thank you, Mother
—and took the steps to the porch. Piano music drifted from the big open doors, servers scurried about taking drink orders and I caught sight of Penelope working the front desk. If she saw me after our knee-to-knee confrontation this morning, she'd be suspicious as to why I was here again. I didn't need suspicious. I needed Penelope feeling perfectly safe so I could follow her and find out what the heck was going on.

To stay out of Penelope's sight I ducked behind a feathery palm, then shuffled over to a portly porter. I edged my way past the Terrace Room with a wedding reception in full swing and made my way to the elevators and rode up. The Cupola Bar was to the right, a long hall to the left. A murmur of voices and clinking glasses came from the bar side, but since the show hadn't started yet I figured Idle would be in her dressing room getting ready. I took the hall to the left. The first door was storage for the bar; the second door had a gold star.

“Wow, I love that dress,” I gushed as Idle opened her door, her perfectly penciled brows raised in surprise at seeing me. “You look great in coral, and before you slam the door in my face I'm here to talk about Fiona. What's going on with you two? Whatever you're
hiding that Peep knew about, it's making Fiona look guilty. You need to come clean to Sutter for Fiona's sake; it's the right thing to do.”

“I'll be the judge of that,” Fiona said, coming to the door and standing beside Idle. “And we won't have to wait for Nate to hunt me now because everyone's going to see me if you keep that door open much longer.”

Fiona nodded down the hall to Gabi and one of the Corpse Crusaders getting off the elevator, and she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. My foot caught on the carpet and I stumbled against a side table, knocking a box to the floor. A Hello Kitty sweatshirt, PJs and a fuzzy pink HK purse tumbled out. Idle dropped down and scooped the goodies back in the box and closed the lid, shoving it all under the table.

“It's for my niece,” Idle blurted at the same time Fiona said, “It's for her cousin.”

“It's my second cousin who I think of as a dear niece.” Idle faked a smile.

“In L.A.?” I prodded trying to get to the truth. Idle might be a terrific singer but she sucked at lying.

“Yes, right, L.A.” Idle nodded, looking like one of those bobble-head dolls, but the strangest part was that the address on the lid read
Lisa Willis in Wisconsin
. “Look, I really have to get ready,” Idle went on. “Fiona was helping me button and zip; you know how hard it can be to button and zip. You should leave.”

“This room has a fantastic view,” I said, gazing out the back as the last rays of sun caught the treetops of woods below us. “This is really high up. Is that
scaffolding right outside your window? I thought construction was a no-no this time of year.”

“The hotel is adding rooms and the bad winter kept them from getting it all done. It's the back so no one can see the scaffold, and you should leave now.” Fiona backed me toward the door, gave me a little shove out into the hall and closed the door.

Okay, what was that cousin/niece thing all about and that address in L.A. when it was Wisconsin? Why lie about that and who the person was? I could have called them on it, but then they'd know I was on to them. Idle and Fiona were up to something together, but was it a big enough reason to get rid of Peep permanently?

I headed for the Cupola Bar on the other side of the hall, perched on top of the hotel facing the lake. The lounge was dimly lit with intimate round tables occupied by couples, and here I was the conspicuous single. So much for blending in. I took a table off to the side and ordered a glass of Chardonnay. What I really wanted was a burger, fries and a Bud Light.

Big windows all around offered a terrific view of town below and the long sweep of the Mackinac Bridge twinkling in the distance. There was a really cool white bar with floral padded stools, a glass chandelier overhead made in Venice back when gondolas were more than a tourist attraction and a dance floor. On a small stage toward the front, a trio was playing Duke Ellington. The Duke was before my time, but Grandpa Frank had a collection of thirty-three-and-a-third
vinyls. I never got the number thing, but the music was great and—

“Hi there, gorgeous,” a man said, standing beside my table. I looked around for the person he was talking to but . . . but . . .

“You're talking to me?”

He laughed and sat down. “Humor, I like that.”

Idle came out on stage, introduced herself and opened with “You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You.” The guy signaled for the waiter and ordered champagne. I was a Nutty Buddy connoisseur to be sure; champagne not so much, but it sounded French and expensive and I couldn't place this guy to save my life. He was in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, and his suit could probably pay for my bike shop. Maybe I'd run into him over at Doud's or here at the Grand? Why would he buy me champagne?

“My wife's off at some lilac lecture this evening,” the man explained. “And here I am all alone.”

“So, you came over for the lilac festival. Ah, you're a customer. The island is a great place for a good time and a nice ride.” I held out my hand. “Evie.”

“I'm . . . Johnson and I'm always up for a good ride.” He put his hand on mine and smiled, except it was kind of a weird smile, and he laughed deep in his throat, and why hold my hand? I reclaimed my hand and Idle ended the “Nobody” song and started in on “Georgia on My Mind.”

“Hey,” Sutter said to me, drawing up to the table as the waiter poured the champagne. “Who's your friend?”

Sutter had on a jacket and it wasn't the black Windbreaker with the
I AM THE POLICE
patch. It was a blue blazer and he had on a tie. Sutter owned a tie? “This is Mr. Johnson,” I explained. “He's a customer of mine and here on the island for a good time and a nice ride of course, and he bought me champagne, isn't that sweet.”

“I was here first, buddy,” Johnson said good-naturedly, holding up his glass to Sutter. “Better luck next time. Get lost.”

Sutter looked from me to Johnson, a slow grin breaking across his face like he was really enjoying the moment. “Mind if I join you?” Sutter didn't wait for an answer and took a seat. “I'm Nate Sutter, chief of police on the island, and there will be no riding.”

Johnson froze with his glass halfway to his mouth, eyes bulging. He choked and sputtered, then jumped up, knocking his chair backward on the floor, and raced for the door.

I looked from Johnson to Sutter. “You know him?”

Sutter's smile broadened. “You really don't get what's going on here?”

“Holy cow! He's on the most wanted list?”

“You'll figure it out.” Sutter righted the chair, took the champagne from my hand and set it on the table. “We should dance.”

“You . . . dance?”

“On occasion. I think this is one of them.”

Sutter led me onto the floor as Idle broke into a swing version of “All of Me.” Okay, I'd taken dance
lessons as a teen; it was one of the social graces in the Bloomfield household along with what fork to use when and how to select the best 401(k). I could shuffle my way around, but Sutter . . .

“How'd you get so good at this?” I asked as he added some footwork and gave me a twirl. I hadn't twirled in years.

“Practice.” Idle flowed into “Old Devil Moon” and Madonna strolled out on the stage with her, the two of them now singing a duet.

“Madonna said she had plans, but I never suspected this.” And another thing I hadn't counted on tonight was my hand in Sutter's, his hand at my back and us together . . . close. Chest to chest close. His chin touched my cheek. He'd shaved . . . close. And he smelled like . . . a man. My leg brushed his. My hip grazed his. My stomach flipped and I couldn't breathe. I went hot all over.
Okay
, I said to myself.
Get over it.
I'd had these feelings before with Sutter and they went nowhere. No follow-up phone calls, no texting, no stopping by for a cup of sugar or anything else that came to mind. Not that the guy ever said he would. It was me; I was reading too much into a few kisses and a dance, a really sexy dance.

“The woman can sing,” Sutter said, his warm breath across my cheek. “Who would have thought?”

And that was the problem; I couldn't think about anything but Sutter. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to Idle after the show. What brings you here?”

“The elevator. I need to powder my nose.”

I cut across the dance floor, leaving Sutter alone in the middle. I needed to get a grip. And I needed to warn Fiona. If Sutter found her and Idle together it would look like they were up to something. IMO they were, but Sutter didn't need to know that.

I took the steps to the second floor and spotted Penelope at the bottom of the red-carpeted staircase, jacket and purse in hand, walking across the lobby. She was leaving now? No, no, no! What happened to her shift ending when Idle finished the show? Hey, the show wasn't finished! Do I warn Fiona about Sutter or follow Penelope?

I crossed my fingers that Fiona had already left, and I headed down the steps and out the front door. Penelope climbed into a taxi, the one headed to the East Bluff and Mission Point and up to Arch Rock.

Huffing and puffing and stumbling in heels . . . blast heels . . . I power-walked beside the taxi as it circled to the back of the hotel to catch Annex Road. I needed a bike. What I needed was a car! How was I going to keep up with the taxi?

“Evie?”

I spun around to Mother running after me, though with auburn curls flowing out behind her and her lovely red dress swishing at her knees she was definitely more Carman than Mother tonight.

“Where are we going?” she panted. “And we're going somewhere for you to be following that taxi like a hound on the scent.”

“This might be one of those questionable situations, and you're a lawyer,” I said to Mother. “You uphold the law. This might be more breaking the law. You don't want to get involved in that.”