Little Shop of Homicide (7 page)

“Your situation.” Jake took a seat on the middle stool across the counter from me and unbuttoned his coat. “Tony said you’re the prime suspect in the murder of a local woman.”

My heart sank. If that cat was out of the bag, it would claw my reputation to shreds by dark.

“I take it you’re not guilty?” His tone was quizzical.

“Of course not,” I responded automatically, then got back to what I considered the most important question. “Who told Tony that I was under investigation?”

“It’s a long story.” Jake took off his Stetson and ran his fingers through his coal black hair, making me itch to do the same.

He was the type who made even shy women want to get naked with him—and I had never been accused of being shy. I was completely ambushed by the intense attraction I felt for this guy. No one else had ever made my knees go weak or produced such a kaleidoscope of sensual images flashing through my mind.

Oops!
I must have been silent too long, because now he was looking at me strangely, and I quickly said, “Go on.” What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah, me being a killer.
Duh.
I couldn’t believe that a guy, even one as attractive as Jake, was distracting me from the fact that a revenge-crazed cop was trying to send me to prison for something I didn’t do.

“Your grandmother called Tony and told him all about that KC detective who was nosing around yesterday.”

“Fu— I mean, shoot!” I came out from behind the counter and took the stool next to him. “Why would she do that?” As far as I knew, Gran and Tony had a neighborly but not close relationship. She’d never asked him for help before, so why had she turned to him now?

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” I absentmindedly ate one of the cherries from my shake.

“Well.” Jake snagged the second cherry and popped it into his mouth. I watched as he chewed and swallowed. “After Tony took your grandmother’s call, he told me that he and Birdie were an item back in the day, which is why he wanted me to help you.”

“You’re kidding me. What happened between them?”
Please, please, please don’t let Tony Del Vecchio be my real grandfather
, I begged silently. I so didn’t want to be related to Jake.

“According to Tony, he and your grandmother dated when they were teenagers, but since he’s a couple years older than Birdie and she wouldn’t marry him until she graduated, after he finished high school he enlisted in the Marines.”

“What happened?”

“Near the end of the Korean War, Tony was reported MIA and Birdie married someone else.”

“Oh.” That explained why Tony and Birdie had kept their distance all these years.

“Yep.” Jake’s tone was neutral, but I could see the disapproval in his expression.

“What? You think she should have waited for him even though there was no way to know if he was alive?” I didn’t think either of us should judge Gran without knowing all the facts.

“She got married three months after hearing that Tony was missing in action.” Jake shrugged. “Seems like she could have hung in there a little longer than that.”

“Well, since Gran felt she could confide in Tony about my problem, and he asked you to help me, I guess he doesn’t hold a grudge,” I pointed out. “Maybe you should follow his example.”

“I doubt anyone really gets over being betrayed.” His glare burned through me.

“Nevertheless, we don’t know the whole story, so there’s no use discussing it.”

Jake seemed a lot angrier than the situation warranted, and I was trying to figure out why when suddenly his heated expression cleared and he said, “You’re right.”

“I am?” I gave myself a mental shake. Why was I acting like a ditzy blonde from a bad chick flick? “I mean, of course I am.”

“The last thing I want to do is fight with you.” He gave me a lazy smile that had no doubt obliterated the defenses of many otherwise sensible women in his past. “Although I bet making up would be fun.”

“Oh.” That pickup line might have sounded cheesy if another guy had said it, but from Jake, it made my mouth go dry. Forcing myself to focus, I said, “Okay, now I know how Tony found out, but what makes him think you can help me?”

I was gearing up to be angry with Gran and Tony for assuming I needed a man to save me, but for the first time since entering my store, Jake’s air of utter confidence faltered. He got up, moving stiffly, and I noticed the taut, controlled lines of his face that indicated that he was in some kind of pain.

Before I could ask him about it, he said, “I’m a deputy U.S. Marshal.”

“Are you taking a leave to help your uncle on the ranch?” Okay. That explained why Birdie had asked for Tony’s help now but hadn’t when my father was arrested. Considering that Jake would only have been in his late teens, he wouldn’t have been a Marshal back then.

“No. Eighteen months ago my leg was injured in the line of duty. Now that I’ve finished all the surgeries and physical therapy, I’m on leave until the docs decide whether I’m fit for service.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” The idea of Jake being wounded made me cringe. “How did you get hurt?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” He paced between the soda fountain and the candy case, stopping directly in front of me. “Let’s just say it was my own stupid fault.”

“Okay.” I didn’t press him. Whatever had happened must have been traumatic both physically and emotionally.

“One other thing before you accept my help.” He eased back onto the stool next to me. “Being around me might be dangerous.”

“Why?” Was he talking about the chemistry zipping between us like an exposed electrical wire?

“A bad guy I helped convict was recently paroled and might be coming after me.”

“Then what are you doing in Shadow Bend?” The thought of him being hurt or killed tore at my insides. “Shouldn’t you be in witness protection or something?”

“Marshals don’t go into witness protection; they provide witness protection.” He grinned. “Besides, the scumbag is too stupid to figure out how to find me. He’s probably already in Mexico.”

“Then he isn’t exactly a Moriarty clone?” I tested Jake’s knowledge of the greatest criminal mastermind ever.

“No, but I’m a pretty decent Sherlock Holmes, so how about I poke around and see if I can’t find out who killed your ex-boyfriend’s fiancée?”

“Noah isn’t really my ex-boyfriend.” I truly wished Gran hadn’t included that part in her report to Jake’s uncle. “We dated in high school for a little while—that’s all.” I hoped Gran hadn’t told Tony the whole sordid tale.

“Sure.” Jake’s expression was hard to read. “I understand he dumped you when your father went to prison.”

“You know small towns—” I tried for a little damage control. “It’s not what really happened that counts. It’s what makes the best story.”

“Right.” Jake drummed his fingers on the counter.

I stared at his left hand, ridiculously pleased to see that there was no wedding ring. Not that the absence of a piece of jewelry proved he was single, but at least there was still the possibility he was unattached.

“So, how about letting me investigate?” he asked.

My first inclination was to turn him down. I wasn’t used to people wanting to help me, and it felt weird putting my trust in a stranger—even if he was better-looking than most of today’s movie stars. Then again, I wasn’t in a position to refuse any assistance. If I was sent to jail, Gran would have no one.

“Okay. Here’s what my friends and I have come up with so far.” I filled him in on the information Boone and Poppy had given me, finishing with, “I’ve been thinking. It seems to me Poppy can probably get the most out of the mayor since he’s a letch and she’s gorgeous. My other friend is good with mothers, so he should chat up Mrs. Underwood. That leaves Joelle’s friend Anya Hamilton, and I’m betting she would be putty in your hands.”

“Are you saying you think I’m attractive?”

I blushed and quickly retorted, “You’re a male with all your own teeth and hair. I understand that’s enough for the Country Club Cougars.”

“Ouch.” He touched his chest. “That hurts.”

“I doubt a big bad U.S. Marshal like you can be wounded by mere words.”

“That all depends on who says them.” He seemed to be looking inward for a moment, then straightened and got back to business. “This afternoon I’ll do some digging into both the victim’s and the suspects’ backgrounds and speak to this Anya woman. Any idea where I can find her?”

“Let me make a call.” I found myself studying his profile as I spoke to Poppy. Once I assured her that I’d fill her in later, she told me that Anya would most likely be at the country club, since her group played Bunco there every Tuesday afternoon from two until four.

After I described Anya and shared her probable location with Jake, he wrinkled his brow and asked, “What on God’s green earth is Bunco?”

I explained about the dice game.

“Okay.” He twitched his shoulders. “I’ll aim for the end of their party so I can talk to her alone.”

“Great.” His massive self-confidence made me feel almost optimistic. “And I’ll give my friends their assignments.”

“Good.” He put on his hat and stood. “I’ll call you tonight with anything I find out.”

I got up, too. “Excellent.” We both started toward the door.

We were passing a wire rack of paperback novels when he said, “You and I should talk to Dr. Underwood together.”

His words made me feel as if someone had slammed me into a concrete barrier. I hadn’t spoken to Noah in years. In fact, I had spent an embarrassing amount of energy avoiding him. The thought of now confronting him made me stumble over my own feet, and I grasped the book rack for support. At the same time that Jake tried to steady me, the shelves spun me around and crashed me into his chest. He automatically put both arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

Great!
I had always made fun of the heroines in Poppy’s romance novels for conveniently “falling” into the hero’s arms, and I had just done the same thing.

But when our hips locked together like Lego blocks, I forgot all about what a cliché the whole scene was, and groaned. It had been ages since I’d had anything pressed against that part of me except me, and it felt darn good.

“Are you all right?” His voice washed over me like molten sin.

My breath snagged in my throat, and all I could do was nod.

“Good.” His whisper was ragged.

I could feel his lips not quite touching my ear and his uneven heartbeats against my chest. The slight citrus scent of his aftershave was intoxicating. There was an undeniable attraction between us, and while I knew I
should step back out of his embrace, I couldn’t make myself move.

What had gotten into me? I didn’t know this man from Adam, and at the rate we were going we would end up having sex right here, right now—the unlocked door and OPEN sign in the window an invitation for anyone to walk in and catch us in the act.

What was I getting myself into? More to the point, did I care?

I
wasn’t sure if I was grateful or disappointed that Boone chose that exact moment to arrive. Either way it stopped me from seeing just how spick-and-span my cleaning service kept the store’s hardwood floor.

Boone’s cheerful tenor preceded him over the threshold. “Dev, I just had a perfectly marvelous idea and couldn’t wait another minute to tell you. Why aren’t you answering your cell ph—?” His words stuttered to a standstill as his gaze fastened on Jake.

At the first sound of the sleigh bells, Jake had released me and taken a discreet step away. Now he touched the rim of his Stetson and said, “I’ll call you tonight.”

As Jake sauntered out the door, Boone demanded, “Who was that?” Without waiting for my answer, he leered. “It sure didn’t take you long to find some arm candy to convince that cop you aren’t still hung up on Dr. Dud.”

Uh-oh!
Boone was staring at me, a smirk on his handsome face. When I’d accepted Jake’s offer to help, it hadn’t dawned on me that my friends would tap him to play the part of my Romeo in their scheme.

Crap!
I knew if I didn’t say something to stop him, Boone would be booking Jake and me a hotel room and posting about us on Facebook. My mind raced, searching
for something that would distract him, but I couldn’t get my brain out of neutral, so no great idea came to me.

“Dev?” Boone poked me in the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” My voice came out funny, sort of strained and scratchy. “I’m fine.”

“So, enlighten me about the cowboy cutie that just exited stage right.” Boone waited expectantly.

I cleared my throat. “That was Jake Del Vecchio, Tony Del Vecchio’s grandnephew. He’s working on his uncle’s ranch while on leave from his job as a U.S. Marshal.”

“I heard a relative was staying with Tony.” Boone unbuttoned his camel hair topcoat. “But since the old guy doesn’t socialize, no one had any details.”

“Jake’s going to help us find out who killed Joelle.” Hoping to distract Boone from Jake, I continued. “But we can talk about that later. What’s your great idea?”

“Dev, Dev, Dev, Dev, Dev.” Boone gave an elegant snort. “How long have we known each other? Oh, yeah. Since our paste-eating days in kindergarten. Do you really think you can drop a bombshell like that and then change the subject?” He shook his head. “Seriously, girl?”