Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) (27 page)

“He likes you,” Cami said, and Harley shook her head.

“Forget it. I told you, I don’t like cats. They don’t like me. It’s a mutual thing that works quite well.”

“Uh hunh. Sam is pretty picky. He’s been known to attack some people. It’s made it hard to place him. He’s very, um, energetic in his dislikes.”

“You mean he bites.”

“Oh yeah. He doesn’t like children at all. I think whoever had him at first had small kids that tormented him pretty badly.”

“I share his sentiment. Most little kids are selfish beasts. Come to think of it, most men are, too. I think they let their inner child out far too often.”

“There are exceptions,” Cami said, and Harley nodded.

“Thank God.”

That led her to thoughts of Mike Morgan, and they talked about him for a while before Cami got up to do her litter box routine. Harley let the dogs out into the back yard, and stood for a moment on the large wooden deck under the shade of a huge weeping willow that draped over one half of the deck. Roses bloomed, and a wisteria, crawling over an arbor and along the fence, dangled soft clusters of flowers that smelled like grape. Very nice. Refreshing. It had a lush feel to it that she liked. Cami had done well.

“So you do all your own yard work?” she asked when Cami came out onto the deck to sit in one of the padded chairs under the willow.

“Not all of it. I pay someone to mow and edge, and I do the flower beds when I have time. Most of the stuff coming up is perennials that return every year. My yard guy should show up any time now. He’s really good, comes by regularly to mow and I send him a check once a month. If he comes by today, just let him in the back yard. There’s a lock on the inside gate you can undo.”

“I think I can manage that. How will I know it’s him?”

“Easy. He’ll have a truck with a lawn mower and gardening tools in my driveway.”

“I guess that would be a good clue.”

“Harley, you won’t go off on your own or anything, will you? You’ll stay here?”

“You’ve been talking to Bobby.”

“Well, he did call a couple of minutes ago. He’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll stay here. If only because I’m tired of getting whacked in the head and pooped on.”

“These last few weeks have been—unusual. Even for you, Harley.”

“I have to agree.” She reflected for a moment, then said, “I blame it all on King. If he hadn’t eaten half of Mrs. Trumble’s car, none of this would have happened.”

“And you wouldn’t have met Morgan.”

“The only bright spot.”

“Or been in a position to try to help your aunt.”

Harley, who had closed her eyes against the sunlight, opened one to peer at Cami. “Are you saying this is a good thing?”

“Well . . . I have to admit, you’ve somehow managed to help despite yourself. If it wasn’t for you, maybe the police would never have found that other body.”

“True. No one even remembered that old cellar was there. Except, obviously, whoever killed Harry and Julio.” She thought for another moment, then said, “It all comes back to Cheríe Saucier. She worked with Harry. She knew that cellar was there. It had to be where they hid the stuff they were smuggling into the country. Homeland Security isn’t checking all the cargo brought in on ships, so anything brought in like illegal ivory and endangered animal skins, or a few artifacts or any of that stuff would just be invoiced as merchandise. I’ll bet there’s a shipping manifest of some kind in Harry’s home office.”

“Harley—
no
.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure the police have already searched. Wait a minute!” She sat up straight and smacked her forehead with her open palm. “Of course! It must be in that ivory box that Anna got from Cheríe. Or Frieda. Or whatever name she’s using at the moment.”

“Shipping manifests? Is it a big box?”

“Oh. No. It’s a small box.” Harley leaned back into the chair again. After a moment she said thoughtfully, “Though it’s completely possible that the box has a key in it, to a safety deposit box, or a safe, something like that.”

“So tell the police.”

“I did. I told Bobby all I knew about the box. Maybe I should call back and tell him why I think it’s important.”

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Harley.”

Already reaching for Cami’s cordless phone, Harley shrugged. “All he can do is hang up on me.”

After five minutes of listening to Bobby tell her to butt out of police business or he’d have her arrested for obstruction, interference, and God only knew how many other threats, Harley said, when he paused for breath, “I take it you’re no longer interested in my assistance.”

There was a long silence, then Bobby said tersely, “Give the phone to Cami.”

She handed it over, sipped at her watered down sweet tea and stared glumly at one of the dogs lying in the shade. It was discouraging to be so unappreciated.

Cami mostly listened, said a few “Uh huhs,” then hung up from Bobby and looked at Harley. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I’m fine. I should have known he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that . . . well . . . ”

“I know. He’s hampered by things like search warrants and proper police procedures. I’m not.”

“Oh God. Please don’t go anywhere. Bobby said he’d arrest you himself if you didn’t stay out of this. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“Don’t worry, Cami. I’m not really up to it right now. I’ll hang around here for a while.”

“If only I could believe that.”

“It’s true. I’m not going off. In fact, I’ll walk your dogs for you while you’re at work.”

“I have four dogs, Harley.”

“Two at a time, then. Just show me where you keep their leashes. Isn’t there a lake behind your house somewhere?”

“In the apartment complex down the block. There are also ducks and geese.”

“Diva is so uncanny. She warned me about the goose, just like with the pug.”

Cami nodded in understanding. “I remember her doing that kind of thing.”

“If only she could be more specific, it’d certainly help. Of course, she likes to think she’s helping with my mental and emotional growth when she tells me just enough to get me in trouble and not enough to help me avoid it.”

While Cami got ready to return to work for her second shift, Harley chose the first two dogs she’d volunteered to walk. A fat beagle named Ranger and a frisky golden retriever mix named Baby barked excitedly when she waggled the leashes.

“Sure you can handle this?” Cami asked rather dubiously, and Harley shrugged.

“Of course. Nothing to it. Dog walking is not brain surgery.”

“As long as you don’t run into some guy walking his Doberman. Then it might require surgery.”

“Ah, I’ll get my pepper spray.”

“Take the garage door opener with you. Here. And go out the back door so the other dogs don’t try to get past you. They think they should all go at the same time. Oh, and watch for cats. They regularly try to get out.”

“Jeez, Cami, do you have to go through this all the time?”

Cami just smiled. “So, want to put your car in the garage?”

“I’m on my bike, but yeah, maybe I should. Hold back the hounds.”

Harley went outside while Cami hit the button to raise the garage door, then wheeled her bike inside. She parked it next to Cami’s green Saturn. A fan in the middle of the garage ceiling kept it from getting too hot in there, and though there was lots of stuff stored alongside the walls, there was plenty of room. A long window let in daylight, and looked out on Cami’s next door neighbor. Except for traffic, the neighborhood was fairly quiet.

It all seemed so safe.

Dog walking was not her forte, Harley decided. Or Cami’s dogs were particularly ill-trained. They wanted to go in opposite directions at the same time, had no concept of the words
heel
, or
stay
, or even
no
, and the elderly fat beagle had peed on her shoe instead of the bush he was aiming for. Her arm sockets ached from where they’d tried to do a two-minute mile and she’d tried to slow them down. She was in no mood to walk the other two, but there didn’t seem to be much choice. They stood at the door waiting and wagging, with feral gleams in their eyes that vowed trouble if she reneged on her promise.

When she got back to the house, staggering from the drag on her arms by two energetic dogs that seemed determined to run instead of walk, the yard man was there. His pickup truck held a lawn mower and gardening tools, and he’d parked in front of the house. Harley managed a nod in his general direction as she stumbled toward the garage door and pushed the button on the opener. It whined upward and the dogs dashed inside toward the back door, dragging her with them. She barely got the door opened before they were both at the water bowls Cami kept filled. Harley headed for the fridge. A cold beer might undo some of the damage her bright idea of dog walking had done. Then she remembered that Cami kept the beer and wine in the old fifties GE refrigerator in the garage, and stepped into the garage to get one.

One of the two yard men stood in the driveway wearing a loose shirt and big straw hat that shaded his face from the sun. She gave him a wave and said she’d unlock the gate for him to mow the back yard. Sweat dampened her hair and shirt. It hadn’t seemed that hot before she’d started, but maybe having to run the entire way back made a difference.

On her way back into the house, she hit the garage door button to close it against the west sun. It cranked noisily down as she went inside. After opening the gate for the yard men, she hit the couch with a sigh and her beer. The ceiling fan was on high, the wooden blinds were closed against the sun, and the remote was within reach on the glass-topped coffee table.
Heaven
.

Outside, the roar of the mower kept the cats glued to the wide kitchen window, but in the cool shade of the den, the dogs lay exhausted and too content to bother barking. She found an episode of People’s Court that she hadn’t seen, and settled on that.

She must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, Cami was home. Harley sat up in surprise, almost spilling the rest of her beer.

“Hey, what time is it?” she asked as she set her beer on the coffee table.

“Nearly nine. You look rested. Or is that exhausted?”

“Both, I think. Your dogs are manic. They dragged me to the lake and back, and one of them—the fat beagle—tried to tree a duck. It wasn’t pretty. Even the squirrels were laughing.”

Cami grinned. “Ranger’s eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but his sense of smell is still good. So, have you eaten yet?”

“Nope. After walking the dogs, I fell asleep. Didn’t even wake up when the yard guy left, so you might want to check the gate and be sure it’s locked.”

“Is that a new pillow beside you?”

Harley looked down, and to her surprise, Sam the Siamese lay curled up next to her. He was purring, a steady vibration that she could feel as well as hear. When she moved, he opened a sleepy blue eye but didn’t stir until she stood up. Then he stretched, yawning so wide she could see the back of his throat behind the pink tongue.

“He likes you,” Cami said, and Harley shook her head.

“He just likes lying next to a warm body. Sometimes I feel the same.”

“Whatever. One of these days you’ll have to give in.”

“That will be right after hell freezes over. I’m not a cat person.”

Sam chose that moment to bump her free hand with his head, sliding under her fingers in an obvious demand to be petted. Reluctantly, she stroked his head a few times, then caught sight of Cami’s smile and stopped.

“Frozen hell, right,” Cami said when Harley walked past her on the way to the kitchen. “I feel the chill already,” she called after her, but Harley managed to ignore that.

“Is there a Taco Bell near here?” she asked instead. “I’m feeling peckish, as Janet would say.”

“Janet?”

“Grandmother Eaton’s housekeeper. You know, Amanda and Madelyn know more than they’ve said so far. Cousin Maddie was there to see Harry, after all. She must have seen some little thing. Heard something odd. Maybe she didn’t notice it at the time. It might have seemed unimportant. Or maybe she doesn’t want to say who and what she saw there.”