Plum Girl (Romance) (24 page)

Suddenly she remembered what B.J. had said at the staff meeting the day before—that he was glad Twit was the one in charge now—which she'd thought was very odd at the time. Now it made more sense.

"Why didn't he get fired?" Dominick asked, although Lonnie sensed that he was only politely curious about B.J. She, on the other hand, was fascinated.

"I don't know. Lunther was probably going to, but—"

Matt didn't need to finish the sentence; everyone was thinking the same thing. Lunther died before he had the chance.

* * *

"Sorry about interrupting you and Dominick tonight." The apartment was pitch-black, and Peach and Lonnie were lying in their beds, wide-awake.

"Oh, it's okay."

"No, really," Peach went on, "Matt asked me if I wanted to watch the news coverage of the game at his place, but I didn't know if I wanted to go to his apartment yet."

"I'm glad you came back here." Lonnie was grateful that Peach, for all her free-spiritedness, was still cautious. They were both like their father that way. Lonnie asked, "So, do you like him a lot?" She couldn't help but wonder what her sister thought of Matt after tonight. Had she noticed the profound enjoyment that Matt seemed to get out of his so-called friend's misfortunes?

"Umm... he's okay. I don't know." She paused. "He bought a chili dog."

"Huh?"

She sighed and repeated, "He bought a chili dog. At the game." Lonnie rolled to face the partition screen, and Peach finished with, "I just don't know if I can be with someone who eats that. A hot dog's bad enough, but then cow flesh on top of it? I just don't know if I can make a relationship like that work."

"Oh. Yeah," she agreed gently, because she admired Peach's vegetarian principles, even if she couldn't relate. Not only were cheeseburgers a weakness, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her conscience to engage the red-meat issue beyond the calorie count.

"Did you have fun with Dominick tonight? I mean, before Matt and I busted in on you?"

"Yeah." Especially the half-naked writhing part. Not that she had tons of experience with fully naked writhing, but inexperience seemed easy enough to fix. She said good night to Peach, and soon they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Early the next morning, Lonnie met Detective Montgomery at Espresso Royale to discuss what she'd observed around the office since they'd talked on Monday. She'd written down a few notes, but was still unsure if there was much purpose in it. On top of that, now he was getting on her case about her large cafe mocha.

"How can you drink that
crap?"

"It's good; I like it."

"You got so much sugar and chocolate in that, it's not even coffee anymore." He winced as if her drink was the foulest concoction he'd ever seen.

"Sorry, we can't all be 'manly' and order black coffee, pretending it's the best thing we've ever tasted," Lonnie replied. Normally, she was more polite, but Montgomery had been teasing her for the past five minutes. The man seemed to get a big kick out of rattling her, but now that she wasn't afraid of him anymore, he was getting a reaction another way. Namely, by acting like an obnoxious punk. And here she was doing him a favor!

He chuckled and said, "What happened to the nervous little girl from the other night? The one who thought I could cart her off to jail without a moment's notice? I think I like her better."

You would,
she thought. "I'm twenty-seven. I think that qualifies me as a woman."

He sighed. "Ah, God. So you're one of those?"

Those?
By now she knew he wasn't out to get her. But he was still a royal pain.

"I only mind being called a 'girl' when it's meant to reduce me. Now, can we get back to the case?" She kept her tone even, because something told her that if she encouraged Montgomery's badgering, he'd be merciless.

"Okay, okay. What d'ya got?" He took out his notepad and waited for her report.

"Let's see...," she began. "Well, I'll just give you the list." She handed a sheet of paper across the table to Montgomery and explained, "See, I've numbered things in terms of abnormality, with 'one' being 'very odd' and 'eight' being—"

"I get it, I get it," he cut her off, and scanned the list. "What
is
this?"

"What?" She straightened up in her seat, a little indignantly.

"What's this—'Bette's bragging reduced'? 'Twit stayed in office a lot'?" Well, sure, with
that
inflection, of course it sounded dumb. " 'Hang-up calls'?"

"Yes. I've been getting hang-up calls ever since Delia forwarded Lunther's phones to me."

"Uh-huh." His expression was bland. "Solicitors and anyone else who would have no reason to know Bell died. Next"—Lonnie's blood was boiling—" 'Delia spills soda'?"

"Wait, I didn't get to finish writing that! What happened was—"

He held up his hand to silence her. "Really, that's okay." He shook his head and waved the paper, as if demanding an explanation. "You call this helpful?"

"Hey, what's your problem?" Lonnie asked, annoyed. "Those are perfectly valid observations."

She went on to explain why, and finally he nodded, half convinced.

"Okay, okay," he said. "What's this one? 'Mail delivered late on Thursday.' " He cracked up laughing.

Lonnie gritted her teeth. "That's why it's number
eight.
If you were listening before—"

"Okay, I'm sorry," Montgomery said, still chuckling. "This is... this is good, really. But I think from now on, look for things that are a little more tied into
motive."

Lonnie scoffed, "What makes you think there'll be a next time?" She snatched her list out of his hand. "Is this my tax dollars at work?"

Montgomery laughed, and leaned in closer across the table. He softened his tone. "Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Yet he was still beaming with amusement at her expense. She just scowled. "Really, this is helpful. I'm giving you a hard time this morning, I know."

"Why are you?" Lonnie asked, relaxing her posture a little.

"I don't know. You're like the little sister I never had." He squinted his eyes, and appraised her with blatant cockiness. "Actually," he corrected, "you're not
exactly
like a sister." Either he was trying to annoy her or come on to her, but either way, it gave him far too much pleasure.

"Please, you're old enough to be my butler. Can we get back to the case now?"

"I'm forty-three," he said, mildly indignant. "But you can relax. You're not my type, anyway." He leaned back and flashed the confident smile of a middle-aged hunk who knew he still held appeal. "I like my women compliant."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"You're a little high maintenance for my taste."

"Fascinating. I'm crushed, by the way. Now, about my notes—"

"And you're high strung, but you just don't know it."

"Well, you're overbearing and overdeveloped," she said without thinking. Then a giggle burst from her throat. "Hey, now you've got me doing it!"

He just grimaced. "Yeah. All right, so what else d'ya got?" She gave him a saccharine smile and took the folded-up copy she'd made of Twit's fax from her bag.

"Here," she said, passing it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, as he took it.

She shrugged. "I don't know what it means, but I just know Beauregard asked me every day if this fax had come in, and then since Lunther died, he hasn't mentioned one word about it. He hasn't seen it yet." He scanned the contents, and she added, "Ann Lee was Lunther's assistant. One day she just stopped showing up for work."

Detective Montgomery folded up the paper and slipped it into his front pocket. "I'll look into it. Thanks. I mean it." He seemed completely sincere.... What was the catch?

"No problem," Lonnie said, and decided to take advantage of his gratitude, which promised to be ephemeral, at best. "Detective, I just have to know," she probed. "What did you mean the other night when you said there had been threats against Lunther?"

"Kid, I can't get into all that with you."

"Why not? You can trust me! Anyway, how do you expect me to keep an eye out when I don't even know what's going on?"

He pondered that for a moment, and then yielded. "It was nothing specific," he explained. "But we had it on file. Bell's brother—"

"Henry."

"Right. A couple weeks ago, Henry comes into the station and wants to file a report, saying his brother had gotten some death threats. But the problem is, the guy doesn't have any real information. All he knows is what Bell told him—that someone he knew had threatened to kill him more than once."

"Oh, God," she muttered to herself.

Montgomery continued. "But Bell wouldn't tell him who it was—claimed they were empty threats. Apparently, he'd told Henry in passing, never realizing he'd take it any further."

"But why was Henry worried?" Lonnie asked. "I mean, if Lunther didn't think the threats were serious...?"

He shrugged. "I can only assume that Bell was a real asshole, because, I gotta tell you, Henry believed it. He was absolutely positive that if someone had the chance, they wouldn't hesitate to kill his brother. And as it turns out, he was right."

Lonnie had always thought there was something underlying Lunther's disingenuous good-ol'-boy bit, but was it even more than she thought?

"Then when we got the call about his death," Montgomery continued. "Well, the way he was found... let's just say, it didn't feel right." She thought about the way Lunther had been backed up against the coatroom wall, and undeniably, it
was
strange.

Montgomery gave her notes a once-over. "There's nothing here about Macey Green." He looked up at her. "So you didn't notice anything off about her? Nothing at all?"

"N-no."

"Think, Lonnie. Anything at all?"

"No,
Detective. I can't think of anything." Why was he so suspicious of Macey? Was he still zeroing in on her just because she'd left the holiday party before the police had arrived? Lonnie realized that she'd have to snoop around a little more if she wanted to get information that would get Montgomery to give up his Macey theory. If she could just find evidence against the real killer... Hopefully the fax would turn up something important.

"Okay," Montgomery said. "Now, before I go, is there anything else? Anything at all?"

Lonnie considered telling him what she'd learned the night before about B.J. But she couldn't do it. B.J. was too harmless to commit murder, and the last thing she wanted was to mar his career any more than
he
already had. She couldn't implicate him with a clear conscience when she didn't believe for a minute he could be a murderer. So she just shook her head.

Montgomery got up to go. "I'll be in touch. Thanks again."

Lonnie knew she'd have to look a lot harder if she wanted to find out who the real killer was, and keep Montgomery from coming down hard on the most convenient scapegoats. But how would she do that without attracting attention and making herself a target?

She half smiled good-bye to the detective, took a final swig of her mocha, and told herself it was just the sugar making her shake.

Chapter 18

"Are we gonna kiss, or are we gonna eat?" Lonnie was sitting on Dominick's lap, with his office door firmly shut. She snuggled closer. She knew she should get back to work, but since it was Friday, she was feeling lazy.

"You choose," Dominick murmured, and kissed her jaw softly. He tightened his hold on her, and she squirmed just enough to feel him hard underneath her. She sighed languorously, and kissed his mouth. Slowly and deeply.

"That's not fair," she whispered into his mouth after they broke the kiss. "You know what I'll choose every time." He smiled against her lips, and ignored his ringing phone. "Aren't you going to get that?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair and over his ears. He just made a low, husky sound, and nuzzled her hair.

She'd told him last weekend that Lunther had been murdered, and he'd suggested that she get a new job, just to be on the safe side. When she told him she couldn't yet, because she'd said she'd help with the investigation, Dominick had made her promise to meet him for lunch every day so he could keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay. That annoyed her a little at first, because the last thing she wanted was for her dating companion/potential lover to
coddle
her. However, it didn't take long to see that what Dominick was really trying to do was manipulate her into coming downstairs to make out with him every day. She could live with that.

"So, how's it going upstairs?" he asked, strumming her spine with his fingers. "Have you found out anything incriminating about anyone?"

Lonnie had debriefed him on her coworkers more than once, and—unlike a certain ungrateful detective—Dominick found her observations interesting
and
valid. Now she shrugged. "Not really. You know that fax I told you about?" He nodded. "I gave a copy of it to Montgomery yesterday, but I haven't heard from him yet about what he's turned up."

"I know I've said it before, but that guy has nerve asking you to get involved in all this. He should do his own damn job," Dominick said.

"Well,
technically,
I'm not supposed to investigate—just to pay closer attention to what goes on around the office."

"I know, but still," Dominick said, and brushed some silky hair away from Lonnie's face.

"I should probably get up before I break your kneecaps," she said apologetically.

"I think this guy has the hots for you," he said, either ignoring what she'd just said, or not registering it at all.

"Who, Montgomery?"

"Yeah."

"Get outta here. He loves to annoy me, but that's about it."

"I'm serious," Dominick said. "I think this whole informant thing is just his excuse to put the moves on you."

She laughed. "Where are you getting this?"

One hand slid up through her hair, and another tightened around her waist. "Because... who
wouldn't
have the hots for you?" he asked huskily, and her heart liquefied. Somehow, Dominick's sweet talk always struck her as far more sincere than Jake's. And as far as another man being interested in her, well, he had absolutely nothing to worry about.