Doing It Right (21 page)

“I’m coming with.”

“The hell.”

“But I am.”

“The.
Hell
.”

“Then why did you let me drive?”

“Because you’ve got the reflexes of a marmoset,” he complained.

“Look, Chess, my days of sitting on the sidelines like a rabbit are
over
. You have a lot better chance of walking out there without getting shot if I’m some slut you picked up on the way.”

“Why would I pick up some slut on the way?”

“Because crooks are stupid.”

He acknowledged that with a silent nod. He’d lost track of how many busts had happened with the ease of closing a door, simply because the perp was, well, an idiot.

“You don’t look like a slut.”

She shook her hair until it stood out wildly in all directions, gypsy’s hair. She reached into her purse, pulled out a slim silver tube, and glossed her mouth an even, glistening carmine red. She pulled off her sweater, revealing a black jogging bra. She wriggled out of her jeans, revealing workout leggings with lace cuffs in the same fuck-me red as her lipstick.

“How about now?” she asked, grinning at him in the gloom.

“Buh,” he replied, or at least that’s what he thought he said.

She jammed an apple-sized piece of gum into her mouth and began to masticate. “The final touch,” she drooled with her mouth full.

Meanwhile, Chess had recovered his wits enough to get out, come around the front of the car, and open the door for her. She was wearing bronze-colored kitten heels which brought out the gold flecks in her black eyes—Wait a minute. Earlier he had thought her eyes had no color at all, and now they were, what? Sparkling?

“This is fucked up,” he muttered.

She snapped her gum in reply.

“Your brother is going to lock me at the bottom of a cold, dark hole for the next fifty years.”

She blew a bubble the size of her head, sucked it in, then clicked into the garage in her cute bronze shoes. “Hi!” she said. “Are you Manny’s friends?”

There were several clangs as tools were dropped all over the garage.

I
am in love
, Chester McNamara, Detective Second Grade, thought, watching Kat’s tight ass wiggle in front of him.
So, so in love. Not because of the killer bod. And I can overlook the annoying gum snapping. No, I’m in love because she kneed me in the nads, kidnapped me, ratted me out to the D.A., then relented and drove me to the pit of all evil to keep me from getting killed, which I probably will be anyway.

Then:
Manny?

Boss Jack, a willowy man with skin the color of cream cheese, a man who could have played professional basketball if he’d shown the slightest interest in anything but crime, ambled out of the cube of his office and approached them. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Not like you at all.”

“I, uh …” He jerked a thumb at Kat, who was
cooing over a line of Michelins. “I ran into an old friend I haven’t known very long.”

Kat was running a hand over the dark tires. “They smell so rubbery!”

“You made a date you forgot about?” Boss Jack smiled, a warm, friendly smile which was usually the last thing a victim saw before the world exploded in brains and blood. “It’s not like you to double book.”

“Naw. A date I just—You know. Had to go for. I mean, right that minute.”
A date I had no choice in. A terrifying, gorgeous date who kidnapped me.

“I question your judgment in bringing her here.”

That makes two of us.
“Why?” he duhhed.

“And these … What do you call these?” Kat was oohing. “They’re so shiny!”

“Hubcaps,” one of the mechanics piped up helpfully.

“Ummm.” Boss Jack stroked his close-cropped beard—two shades darker than the white-blond hair on his head—and studied Kat, who was bent at the waist, peering into the pit. The mechanics were staring up at her cleavage, entranced. Then, “Manny?”

“Well. Had to tell her something.”

Kat was waving down into the pit. “Hi, down there!”

From below, a cheerful chorus—”Hi, up there!” Other than stripping engines and moving parts out the door, Chess figured this was the most excitement these guys probably had in a year.

“You brought what I want?” Boss Jack continued.

“Huh?” Chess had been more than a little entranced himself. “Oh, the ’Stang! Yep, it’s right outside.”

“Not just any Mustang.
That
Mustang. Yes?”

“Sure.” Chess didn’t think much of the request at the time; sometimes people arranged to have their own cars stolen, or a relative’s. That wasn’t likely in Kat’s case, but now that he had a chance to give it some thought, why would Boss Jack want Kat’s car? She sure didn’t want someone to take it, and he doubted her goody-goody family wished grand theft auto on her, either. As for her stick-in-the mud brother, he had the contacts, sure. But the motive? Nuh-uh.

“Very good,” Jack continued.
Uh-oh,
Chess thought.
Better pay attention.
“At least you haven’t lost all your faculties.” Boss Jack motioned to a man loitering by the garage wall. “Bring in, ah, Manny’s car, will you?”

“Aren’t you scared the car will fall on you?” Kat asked the pit crew, absently—or artfully—twirling a curl around one long finger. She was bent over so far, Chess worried she might fall in herself.

“You’ve done well, Manny.”

“Huh?”

“Seventeen cars in twelve days. And the only time you dropped off the radar was this afternoon.”

“Yeah, but, boss …” He gestured as Kat squatted over the pit. “
Look
at her!”

“And you told her …?”

“That I was dropping a car off for a friend, and that we’d go out drinking after. She thinks the transmission’s shot or something.”

“You doubtless could have told her the fifth wheel was flat and she wouldn’t have minded.”

“Yeah, but … you get a look at her ass?”

Boss Jack grinned. Chester grinned back. And suddenly, he didn’t want to be playing this game anymore. Fine, Kat had—probably—saved his life. Or at least the case, which he and her brother had been building for eleven months. But she was practically prostituting herself to do it, and that was just plain fucked up. God, if her brother could see her now, his entire head would pop like an enraged pimple.

The Mustang purred into the garage and, to Chess’s dislike, the garage door ratcheted down right behind it. That was a small breach of protocol. Usually he just walked out the door. What was …

“This was … a special request. I’m very, very glad you were able to deliver … ‘Manny.’ “

“Yeah, well. Hooray for American ingenuity,” he mumbled. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. And of course he had no back up, no badge, no gun. All he had was Kat, and all she had was—well, she had plenty, but he didn’t think her jogging bra was bulletproof.

“If you and your … lady friend will just have a seat in my office, I’ll get your wages.” Boss Jack crossed the garage in three long-legged strides,
grasped Kat’s elbow, and lifted her to her feet. Startled, she snapped her gum in his face. He grimaced, bloodshot brown eyes narrowing, but didn’t flinch.

“’S up?” she chewed.

“I owe your new friend some money, and then you two can dance the night away as far as I’m concerned.”

“Okey-dokey,” she said cheerfully. “Got somewhere I can freshen up?” She leaned toward Jack, snapped her gum in his ear even louder, ignored his flinch, then said, “I gotta pee something awful.”

Boss Jack managed to keep a companionable arm around her shoulders while leaning as far away from her as possible. “There’s a bathroom in my office. Manny, I believe you know the way.”

He did know the way. He could even point out the bloodstains on the floor, covered in carpet though they were. He sighed, took Kat by the hand, and led her to the abattoir.

S
he bustled out of the small bathroom and plopped down on the couch beside Chess, who was chewing his lower lip and looking rather constipated.

“So, now what?”

He threw an arm around her shoulder, ignoring her squeak of surprise, and hauled her close enough so that his lips were tickling her ear. “The office is bugged.”

“Well, duh,” she whispered back.

“Audio and video. Don’t look around.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

She shifted her weight and slung a leg over his left thigh. He stiffened—she had no idea why, he certainly seemed like the touchy-feely type—and said, “What are you doing?”

“It’s not going well, is it?” she breathed into his ear.

“Uh, no. I’m usually in and out of this place in about two minutes.”

“Well. Better put on a good show.”

“Is that Grape Bubblicious? Because I’m about to pass out from the fumes.”

She stuck a finger in her mouth and pulled out the wad of gum. “Better?”

“No.” He eyed her be-gummed finger warily. “What are you going to do—Mmph!”

Kiss him until he practically fell off the couch, that’s what she was going to do. In half a second they were wrapped in each other’s arms and he forgot about the gum as her mouth opened beneath his, as her hands groped and touched and teased, as he did a little groping of his own, as they sighed and gasped and wriggled on the couch.

Kat wasn’t sure if the wild excitement she felt was because she was doing something extremely un-Wechter-like, because Chess was an amazing kisser, or because she knew someone—probably the tall creepy guy—was watching them. Whatever the reason, she’d gone from cool to flaming in five seconds, and was ready to rip Chester’s pants off and jump him on the office floor, and never mind that the room stank of motor oil, and had a picture of Miss February—it was fall—on the wall.

“This is an excellent plan,” Chester gasped, coming up for air, “but it’s not really getting us anywhere.”

“Shut up and kiss me some more.”

“What are you, the black sheep of your family or something?”

“I’m the super-nova of black sheep. The black hole of black sheep.”

He looked fascinated, trapped beneath her leg and twined in her arms as he was. “Why? What happened? Mix-up at the hospital?”

“It’s a long story, and I come off really bad in it. Shouldn’t we be making out more?”

“I was thinking of making for the back door,” he mumbled in her ear, leaning in so close it looked, to a casual observer, as if he were nibbling on her earlobe. “This was a mistake all the way around. Jack’s no one to fuck with.”

“Neither am I,” she said smugly. “You think my brother’s bad?”

“I think your brother’s a pussycat, comparably speaking.”

“Ooooh, that made me horny all over again.”

He laughed; he couldn’t help it. The laughing cut off as the office door opened and Boss Jack stood framed in the doorway.

“Dum-dum-
dummmmmmm
,” Kat hummed dramatically.

“I’ve got your wages,” Jack lied politely. “So you can collect them and be on your way.”

Neither of them moved. They just looked up at Jack from each other’s arms. Finally, Chess managed, “Uh, great.”

“Super great,” Kat chirped. “Did you know it’s not February anymore?”

He eyed her disheveled curls with distaste. “I prefer blondes.”

“Hey,” Chess said warningly.

“Both of you chill,” Kat said. “Are we going or are we going? I’m bored out of my tits.”

Both men made a concerted effort not to stare at her chest. “In just a few more moments. Follow me, please.”

They did.

T
he first thing Chess noticed was how deserted the garage was. Most of the strippers/mechanics had left, leaving three thuglike gentlemen loitering near the Coke machine. As if enough alarm bells weren’t ringing in his head, he suddenly wanted an Advil. And his service revolver.

“Do you recognize me?” Boss Jack asked Kat with alarming pleasantness.

“No.”

“Something about the shape of my face? My mouth? The color of my eyes?”

“You look a little like my geometry teacher from tenth grade,” she suggested, sounding so uninterested that Chess almost hugged her.

“I look,” he said, “like my younger brother.”

She sucked the gum off her finger and began masticating. “That’s nice. Is he a tall weird skinny blond guy, too?”

“He’s in jail.”

“Uh-huh.” She blew a bubble, popped it. “So?”

“Yeah,” Chess said slowly, not liking this at all. “So?”

“So you testified against him. And they bitched him, so he’s going to be in Stillwater for a while.”

“Habitual offender,” Chess muttered.

“I
know
,” Kat snapped. “Oh. That brother.”

If Boss Jack was waiting for alarm, or fear, he wasn’t getting it. In fact, he sounded distinctly put out as he said, “It’s all your fault he’s locked up in a seventy-square-foot box.”

“Oh, just
stop
it,” Kat said, and Boss Jack jumped. Chess was keeping a wary eye on the thugs chugging Coke, but her tone made him snap his head around and stare at her. “Your brother? The innocent victim? My ass. He pulled me out of a party—pretended to be nice—and set me up to be gang-raped by his asshole buddies. That was almost ten years ago! If he’s still in jail, it’s not just for that and you know it. So, what? You figured out my license plate and sicced Chess on me?”

Chester silently groaned and fought the urge to slap his forehead.
Manny,
he mouthed.

She waved it away. “Forget it. He knows. The jig, as they say, is up. So, I’m here, Boss Jerk. What’s the plan? Sic your thugs on me? Get revenge for your stupid little brother, who was so fucking dumb he dragged me out of a bar in front of thirty witnesses?”

“Kat,” Chess growled, but he couldn’t help grinning.

“Tracking you down was easy,” Jack said, with the air of a man dying to tell his tale. “And you got reckless. Ever since you put my brother away, you take chances, you go your own way, you ignore good sense, and you think your shit doesn’t stink.” “No,” she said. “I just stopped being afraid.” “I knew if I sent Chester to get your car, you’d find a way to get it back. I assumed your cursed brother would help you, but I knew I’d see you again.”