Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis (46 page)

A heavy weight on the side of her bed woke her with a start and she reached out for some kind of a weapon, her heartbeat escalating into a Flight of the Bumblebee pace.

“Hey, I’m part of the cavalry,” a familiar voice said, and she flopped back onto her pillow.

“How the hell do you always get in through a locked door?”

“Simple. I still have the key you gave me.”

“Oh. I could have shot you, you know.”

He bent and kissed her until her head started to spin and tingles popped up in vital places. “You don’t have a gun,” he said after a moment.

“You don’t know that.”

Morgan curled his fingers into hers and pushed her arms up over her head and deep into her pillow. “Yes I do. If you did, you’d have shot Horton instead of kicking him in the crotch.”

“I liked kicking him in the crotch. He was obviously a slow learner. I did it a few times.”

“Are your lips still swollen?”

“Tootsie put ice on them. I’m good to go.”

“How handy,” he murmured deep in his throat. “Want to take a shower with me?”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“Yeah. But that’s okay. So do I.”

Before she could think up an appropriate insult, he lifted her into his arms and walked toward the bathroom. It took him no time to strip off her clothes and his, and they were in the shower with hot water beating down on them and slick soap making things nice and slippery.

“I thought you wanted your space,” she murmured through the pelting water.

“I just said that so you wouldn’t snoop around in my case too much.”

“And what was your case?” She shuddered when he slipped his hands down over her well-lathered body.

“Hughes and Williams. They were running a scam on the charity and the tourists.”

“I knew it! I knew there was something wrong about those guys!”

“Sometimes you scare me.”

“You love it.”

He laughed softly. “I guess I do.”

It was the best shower she’d had in a long time, Harley reflected a few hours later as her bedroom started to get light enough for her to see the wet towels on her floor.

Mike was asleep. That was okay. He’d worked pretty hard these last few hours. She smiled and turned over to throw a leg over him. Not a bad ending to the night.

Not bad at all.

* * * *

Diva
called at noon. “Yogi’s on the front page of the paper. He’s credited with capturing the serial killer. I think you should come over and congratulate him. Most of the neighborhood has shown up this morning.”

“So he’s famous, huh.”

“As I told you he’d be.”

“You’re scary.”

Diva ignored that and said, “It’d be nice if you’d stop by to pick up Nana on your way. She wanted to be here, too.”

Harley closed her eyes. Serenity was so short-lived.

“I’ll pick up Nana,” she heard herself sigh, and Morgan turned over and started doing things with his fingers that made her speechless.

“I’ll expect you in a few hours,” Diva said, and Harley hung up. Her mother knew too many things she’d rather she didn’t.

She didn’t show up at Whispering Pines until 3:00. Nana met her in the lobby.

“It’s about damn time you got here. I was just thinking about a quickie with Julio.”

Harley winced at the images that summoned. “I thought his name was Rico.”

“Oh yeah. So it is. No matter. Let’s get out of here, chickie.”

Chickie and Nana got to the house on Douglass Street by three-thirty. Eric met them at the curb. “When are you going to get your car back?” he asked. “This one looks pretty ragged.”

“It’s a theft deterrent. And I get my car back day after tomorrow. Once I raid my savings account.”

“Stop chattering and come inside,” Nana said as she opened the gate in the picket fence, marching up the sidewalk. Long-stemmed sunflowers banged against her head and she shoved them to the side. Bumblebees swarmed around her head. She took a few swats at them and they buzzed off. Not much intimidated Nana.

Yogi met them at the door. His chest was all puffed out and his knuckles had a few cuts. He must have taken some swings at Horton.

“I hear you’re famous now,” Nana said.

Yogi nodded. “So everyone says.”

“You captured that killer, didn’t you? Good thing. He was starting to get on my nerves. Is that Sadie in there? I hope she brought some pie.”

Without waiting for an answer, Nana went into the kitchen. Harley looked at her brother and Yogi. “Now do you understand why I couldn’t stop her from stealing that horse and carriage?”

“Cool chick, no one can stop Nana when she’s set her mind on something,” Eric said.

Yogi grinned. “She told Diva she wants her gun back. I hope they don’t give it to her.”

“Don’t worry. Bobby isn’t too anxious to arm her again. Things happen.”

“That’s a relief. Did you see the morning paper?”

“Not yet.” Yogi held it out to her. “Hey, you’re really famous.”

Shrugging, her father said, “Not quite the way I thought I’d be, but I guess this is pretty good.”

“You saved my life! I think it’s much better than pretty good.”

Yogi’s grin got so wide she thought his face might never be normal again.

“Come on into the kitchen,” Eric said. “There’s pie and cake. Aunt Darcy sent over some of those good cookies Janet makes. They have lots of icing on the top.”

“I’m sold.”

They wandered into the kitchen where Sadie Shipley sat on a stool by the breakfast bar and told anyone who’d listen that she’d always known Yogi had it in him to tackle a killer. Yogi rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Diva just smiled her serene smile.

Harley stuffed her mouth with Janet’s cookies. No one made them better. Aunt Darcy was the bomb; Janet was worth every penny she paid. Darcy had changed a lot in the past months and become much nicer. Madeline and Amanda still had a ways to go.

A pleasant buzz filled the kitchen, reminding Harley of her childhood. Diva had never closed her door to anyone. Over the years, a long line of hippies, drifters, and the adventurous had been invited inside. Some of them, Harley recalled, were former residents of the communes they’d lived in from time to time. It was a mystery to her how they’d found her house, but maybe Diva gave off some kind of vibe that drew them in.

“This isn’t sweet tea,” Nana said, looking into the glass she’d been given. “What is this crap?”

Diva said calmly, “Chamomile. It’s soothing.”

“It’s crap. Use real tea. This stuff tastes like watered-down flies.”

While Harley was trying to remember if chamomile really did taste like watered-down flies, Morgan showed up.

Nana immediately got all flirty. “Hey handsome, where’d you come from?”

Morgan took it in stride. “Midtown, Mrs. McMullen.” He looked over at Harley. “Baroni said to tell you he still expects you to show up and give your statement.”

“Bobby Baroni?” Nana snorted. “He still hasn’t given me my gun back yet. I’m thinking of suing the entire police department.”

“I hope you have a good lawyer.”

“I do. He’s a real pip.”

“By the way, Nana, I brought you something.” Harley held out a flowery gift bag.

Nana looked at it suspiciously. “It’s not something unpleasant, is it?”

“Why on earth would you think that? It’s just something I think you might like.”

Nana took the bag and peered into it as if afraid the contents might bite. Then her face lit up. “Hot damn!”

She pulled out the gift and waved the wooden penis in the air. Mrs. Shipley looked puzzled, then shocked.

“Anna Mae? Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep, and a good, big one. Not that I can do anything with it, but it does give me nice memories. Oughta give Rico something to work towards. Why’d you give this to me, Harley?”

“When I was in that casket and vault, I wished I’d made a will. Then I thought—why wait? I’d just give it to you now.”

“Did you leave me your bike?” Eric looked hopeful until she shook her head.

“I’m keeping that for a while longer.”

Silence had fallen, with Mrs. Shipley still looking shocked, Nana gloating, and Morgan looking bemused. Diva must have thought it was time to say something innocuous.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Diva asked Morgan, and before he could answer Nana said, “Don’t drink the tea. It tastes like crap.”

Yogi handed Mike an organic root beer. “Try this.”

“Thanks. There a lot of talk about you down at the precinct.”

Yogi’s eyes got wide. “Are they going to charge me with something?”

“Nothing like that. You were pretty amazing. Especially since you didn’t know if Horton was armed. He could have had a gun, or used the knife we took off him.”

Yogi went pale. “He had a knife?”

“A good-sized one. Could have done a lot of damage.”

Swallowing hard, Yogi said in a weak voice, “Well, I had to save my little girl.”

“You did a bang-up job. Horton’s going to be in the hospital a day or two.”

“Come along, officer,” Harley said, and took him by the arm. “Let’s go sit on the porch.”

One of the swinging settees was covered with flowery cushions, and they sat on that. It was a nice afternoon as long as they stayed in the shade and under a ceiling fan. Cicadas sang and crickets made chirping noises. The hum of bumblebees mixed in with the other sounds. They sat for a while in silence, until Harley got drowsy.

“This root beer isn’t too bad.” Morgan took another drink from the bottle.

She roused. “It tastes like crap.”

They both laughed at her imitation of Nana. Then Morgan leaned close.

“We could sneak out of here if we’re quiet.”

“I can’t. I brought Nana and I have to take her home.”

“Eric can do it. By the way, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Her stomach got tight. Surely he wasn’t going to ask her to marry him. That was something she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to do.

He didn’t. Instead he asked, “Why does your brother have a normal name and you don’t?”

“I do too have a normal name. It’s just that Harley and Davidson sound funny said together. Besides, Eric doesn’t exactly have a normal name.”

“What’s wrong with Eric as a name?”

“Nothing. But his middle name is Toke.”

“Strangely enough, that’s not very surprising. So go get Toke to take Nana home. I’ve got something I want to do with you.”