Killer Chameleon (9 page)

I found I could manage two boxes, and Tina grabbed the big shopping bag in which my robe and slippers were crammed.

“I hear you've met my auntie,” she said, as we stepped on the elevator.

“Your auntie?”

“Clarissa. She's actually a great-aunt of a second cousin or something. I'm the one who steered Duck to my family's cleaning company. It was a good match. He loves her.”

I was trying to formulate a response when the elevator jerked to a stop at the first floor and Mrs. Luby, a neighbor of Duck's, got on. A member of what he'd tagged the Gang of Four, she was the reigning queen of a quartet of elderly ladies who camped out in the lobby to watch the soaps together and meddle with whoever came in and out.

“More things?” she asked. “Well, you're smart to bring only a few at a time.” She eyed Tank and smiled flirtatiously. “And just who is this?” She and Janeece might be generations apart, but they were sisters under the skin.

“My husband.” Tina managed a dangerously sweet smile in return. Mrs. Luby might be shifting gears toward eighty but she was still a woman, and Tina didn't take kindly to females, no matter what age, moving in on her territory.

“Detective and Sergeant Younts,” I said, “this is Mrs. Luby, one of Duck's favorite people. She lives across the hall.”

“Ma'am,” Tank said, nodding his head in greeting. He scowled at Tina, who, after a moment's hesitation, shook Mrs. Luby's hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” she murmured.

“Likewise. How much more do you have coming?” Mrs. Luby asked me. “I wouldn't think there'd be enough room over there.”

“This is almost the last of it, thank heaven. How are the grandbabies?” I regretted the question almost immediately, since Mrs. Luby was known to wax ad nauseam about them.

“They've got the chicken pox, every last one of them,” she said, as the elevator door opened. “I just hope they'll be done scratching by Christmas. Y'all will have to pardon me but I've got to hurry. Time to take my pill. You all have a good day.” She hurried toward her door, a vision in Barbie-doll pink, from the fancy comb in her hair to her ballet flats. Mrs. Luby believed in monochrome, the more intense the better.

“Clarissa was here the day before yesterday,” I said, as we neared Duck's door. “I didn't realize she was a relative of yours.”

“One of my favorites,” Tina said, “and Aunt Sister, of course.”

“Wonder if she made anything for Duck.” Tank waited while I dealt with the deadbolt. “Man, that lady can cook.”

“She brought barbecue,” I said, “but Duck has probably wiped it out.”

The apartment was empty. The refrigerator, however, was not. Tank deposited the boxes in the guest room, returned to the Explorer for the two remaining, then made short work of the last of the barbecue. I wasn't hungry, and Tina declared that she'd hold out for pizza. The two of us camped out in the living room while Tank ate.

“So,” Tina said, “what's with this trouble you've been having? Why did Duck send us to keep an eye on you?”

My heart sank. I had hoped he'd simply asked them to help me with the last of the things to be moved. If he'd put them on guard duty, the rest of my day really was shot. They'd stick to me like lint on wool.

“Duck may be overreacting,” I began. “It's not such a big deal that I need bodyguards.”

Tank moved his chair close enough to the door that he could peek around the corner from the kitchen.

I ran down the list of pranks, omitting editorial comments to facilitate an objective opinion from them. Granted, the call that had sicced the cops on me had been over the top, but the deposits outside Neva and Cholly's door and the one about Duck having an accident, although malicious, were, for the most part, harmless. The e-mail was unnerving and a nuisance, but when it came right down to it, all I had to do was hit the delete key.

“Well, hell,” Tina said, her elfin features uncharacteristically solemn. “I don't like the sounds of this. Add the damage to your car and you've got to figure some female is going to an awful lot of trouble to make your life miserable. You're sure you haven't made an enemy recently?”

“Positive. Shoot, girl, I haven't had time. I've been too busy with Christmas and keeping an eye on the renovations of the police station in Umber Shores and trying to get myself married.”

“I thought the place was called Ourland,” Tina said.

“Well, it is, on the east side of town. Blame it on a long-standing family feud. I'll explain later.”

“Maybe it didn't happen recently,” Tank said, midchew. “Whoever you crossed, I mean. Think back.”

“I have. I still come up empty. It may sound like I'm a goody two-shoes, but I try to be nice to everybody. I really do. I try to treat everyone with respect. Always have, even when I was in uniform.”

“Much more of this,” Tina grumbled, “and I'm gonna throw up. The fact remains, some woman's pissed at you. She made a big mistake, getting the cops involved, and should realize it by now. Let's hope that the paint job, assuming she did it, is her swan song. So. What's next on your agenda for the day?”

So indeed. Tina might think the pranks were history, but she obviously intended to fulfill her contract with Duck to hold my hand for the rest of the afternoon.

It was pick-and-choose time. The Bridal Bower. Hmm. I'd left the peau de soie for minor alterations, which meant I'd need to try it on, just in case. With the undies I'd put on this morning in mind now, I scratched the bridal shop. I could imagine their expressions at seeing my well-worn old faithfuls. It would make more sense to go decked out in the ridiculously fancy ones I'd wear on the big day.

Instead, I explained my need to get to the travel agency to pick up the tickets to Hawaii. “They're closing early today for the office Christmas party. And I hate to impose, but I need to run over to Ourland to see my grandparents. Don't know what's up, but my grandmother was kind of insistent, and I promised I'd come today.”

“Let's hit it then,” Tank said, downing the last of the barbecue. “We'll stop and get pizza first. This was just an appetizer.”

“Goody.” Tina hopped up and grabbed her coat. She lived to eat, not the other way around.

 

The sign on the door of Graystone Travel announced that the agency was closed, and I indulged in some sotto voce swearing before I detected movement in the back behind a translucent panel. Taking a chance, I rapped on the glass and crossed my fingers. A second later, a familiar face peered around the panel. Margie, still here, thank God, but lacking her usual smile of recognition. She hesitated for a second, then strode to the door.

A former cop who had decided the stress wasn't worth it, Margie was a substantial woman, taller than average, with shoulders like a linebacker. She had intimidated any number of juvenile offenders in her day and seemed to assume much the same attitude as she unlocked the door and stood there, blocking the way. “Yes?”

“Sorry I'm late, okay?” I said, guessing that she was miffed at me for showing up after hours. “Car trouble. But it's not three yet. I thought you weren't closing until three.”

“No reason to hang around,” she said, not moving. “Everyone slated to pick up tickets has been here and gone. If you've got new travel dates, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. We've signed off for the day.”

“Come on, Margie,” I said. “I appreciate the trouble you've gone to to reschedule us twice, but it couldn't be helped. December twenty-sixth is it, so just give me the tickets and you can go on to your party.”

Her eyes narrowed a trifle. “What do you mean, the twenty-sixth is it? You called and canceled. I don't mind telling you—”

“Wait a minute. Just hold it,” I said. “What do
you
mean, I called and canceled? The wedding's set for the day after Christmas and we're leaving for Hawaii that evening come hell or high water.”

Margie stared me down, literally, for several seconds, then jerked her head for me to come in. She locked the door, then led me back to her station behind the panel. Dropping into her chair, she pulled a folder from the shelves attached to the wall behind her, opened it, and skimmed a pink “While You Were Out” message slip across the desk toward me.

I caught it, turned it right side up, and felt my jaw and innards spasm. In flowery letters, the kind with little circles above the i's, someone had written last Wednesday's date, ten-twenty
A.M.
as the time, Lee Warren as the caller, and “Honeymoon trip is off, she'll be in touch,” as the message.

“Margie,” I said, lowering myself into a visitor's chair, “I didn't make this call.”

She was clearly insulted, her features rigid. “Dolly Cranston may look like an airhead but when it comes to taking messages, she gets them right.”

“And I'm here to tell you that this time,” I said, with a death grip on my temper, “she got it wrong. I didn't make this call. Dammit, Margie, I know how much of a pain in the butt these arrangements have been for you. And each time they've had to be changed, as much as I dreaded it, I've come in and talked to you personally. It was the least I could do. I did not make this call. Someone's been pulling practical jokes on me and, dammit, this looks like another one.”

For the first time, a measure of uncertainty peeked from beneath her hard shell. “She did say you weren't specific about the date you and Duck were to have left, only that I should cancel it. And I did. Figured you two had had a fight or something.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, and massaged my temples. I felt sick, nausea roiling in my midsection. All our plans down the toilet.

I pulled myself together. First things first. “Any chance we could still get those reservations?”

She snorted. “You jest. Christmas in Hawaii is usually sold out weeks in advance, airlines and hotels. I moved heaven and earth to get that last date for you. I might be able to get you on a flight to the West Coast but you'd have to swim from there and honeymoon on the beach because I can guarantee you, there's nothing available left, at least no place fit for human habitation.”

“How many toes would I have to kiss to ask you to at least check?” I ventured.

“Thanks all the same but I've got a husband who takes care of that for me.” She made a face and sighed. “All right, I'll see what I can do, but it'll have to wait until after the party today. A couple of corporate clients are invited and I've got to be there to welcome them and kiss their toes if I want to stay in business. I'll give you a call tomorrow morning at the latest.” Rising, she removed her purse and coat from the coat tree in the corner and turned off her desk lamp. “Sorry about all this, Leigh, but we had no way of knowing.” She hustled me out, said a hurried good-bye, and disappeared into the passing crowd.

Tank and Tina were parked around the corner. I wasn't quite ready to face them yet. Taking advantage of the niche afforded by the recessed doorway, I fished in my purse for my cell phone.

Surprise, surprise, Duck answered, and on the first ring.

“Kennedy,” he announced.

Hearing his voice brought me close to tears. “Duck, I'm outside. Graystone. She's done it again, called here last week and had them cancel all our reservations for Hawaii.”

“WHAT?” His usual baritone soared into coloratura range.

“You heard me. Margie was plenty pissed until she realized I was serious about not having canceled anything. She says she'll do the best she can to find a flight and hotel for us but she's not hopeful.” I dreaded doing it, but it was time to bite the bullet. “Duck, I hate to ask, but is there any way one of your former girlfriends might be doing this?”

The ensuing silence made me wonder if I'd struck a nerve. He had had quite a reputation as lady-killer in the earlier years of our acquaintance, allegedly unwarranted. “Duck? You still there?”

“Oh, yeah, still here and trying to decide who I'm more pissed at, you for asking that question, or whoever made that call. How the hell did she know what our plans were? I mean, she might have lucked up on someone who'd tell her we were going to Hawaii, but how could she know which travel agency we used? When did all this happen again?”

“Last Wednesday. And somebody spray-painted my car. It's a mess. Tina's brother does detailing and will see if he can remove it, so Tank's playing chauffeur. I'm sorry, Duck. I'm just so mad I could spit. What'll we do if Hawaii's a bust?”

“Keep it down, dammit,” he yelled at his coworkers, inflicting considerable damage to my right ear. “Sorry, babe. Look, push comes to shove, there are plenty of other places we can go—the Caribbean, maybe. We'll talk tonight. Don't sweat it. At least we had cancellation insurance so we won't lose that much—I hope. Everything will work out okay. I haven't caught up with Willard yet but I'll damned sure keep trying. This shit has to stop. Look, honey, gotta go. See you tonight.”

He had disconnected before I could say good-bye. At least he hadn't flipped his lid, leaving that to me, I guess. It was just as well someone was keeping a cool head. I sure as hell wasn't.