Skating Around The Law (17 page)

I struggled out of bed trying to recall why I'd chosen to get up at eight o'clock. It was Sunday. Sunday morning I usually slept in unless struck by guilt. Then I attended church.

I slapped my forehead. Last night, I'd set the alarm so I could go to mass this morning. Brittany and her grandmother would be spying at the Lutheran church, and I figured I should cover the building across the street.

I grabbed the only dress in my suitcase. Glancing at the mirror, I sent up a prayer that the Ladies' Guild would have something better to talk about than my attire. Not that I looked bad. In fact, I looked too good. The dress was scarlet red with a just-above-the-knee hem and spaghetti straps. I'd bought it because it made my waist look smaller and my breasts bigger. Today it was doing both. I grabbed a white cardigan and sighed. The fashion gods would frown on covering up such a great dress, but successful snooping required blending in. Something I was bad at even on my most understated day.

The church was near capacity by the time I arrived. Pop was up in front sitting next to Mrs. DiBelka and her husband. No Lionel. He must not be Catholic, I thought, feeling mildly disappointed. I took a seat in the back and waited for someone to act incriminating.

Sadly, nothing suspicious happened. Not much had changed since I'd last attended Sunday mass in Indian Falls. The organist was loud, the soloist slightly off key, and the priest, while kind and good-natured, was long-winded. During the moments of silence, I plotted my next course of action.

 

I spotted Lionel walking a gray stallion in a fenced-in area next to the barn. Hips swaying, I stripped off the modesty cardigan and walked over to lean on the fence. I could tell the moment Lionel spotted me. For a second he went still. Then his eyes traveled up my entire body. He smiled, and my skin started to tingle.

Okay, I admit that coming here had nothing to do with the investigation. The priest had talked about Sunday being a day of rest, so I was following instructions and taking a break from Mack's murder. A little flirting seemed like a great way to recharge my batteries.

I smiled as Lionel crossed the grass. He was wearing faded jeans, a worn flannel shirt, and a pair of leather boots. Add wind-tossed hair, and I had the sexiest man in the Midwest approaching.

“I like the dress,” he said.

“The women at church think I'm scandalous.”

Lionel's eyes smoldered. “Am I supposed to help you live up to expectations?”

I bit my lip. Maybe playing with fire wasn't such a good idea after all.

His finger hooked one of the dress's spaghetti straps, and he gave it a tug. I had to take a step closer or lose my dress. “What's wrong?” he asked. “Scared?”

Scared? Me? “Never,” I fibbed.

I saw a brief smile twitching at the corner of his lips a second before they touched mine and I stopped thinking altogether. Dr. Lionel Franklin's lips were potent. I dropped the sweater. My arms snaked around his neck, and I pressed myself close. The length of my body rubbed up against his. The friction made parts of me zing with excitement.

Lionel's hands ran down my hips. That's when I seriously contemplated dragging him into the barn.

Then he was gone. Lionel's hands left my hips. His mouth disappeared from mine. My eyes popped opened just in time to see a fist connecting with Lionel's jaw. Seeing Lionel go down made me fly into action.

Without thinking, I leapt onto the back of Lionel's attacker. We both fell to the extremely hard ground with a thud. I rolled to my knees and grabbed the bad guy by the shirt. Yanking him up, I looked into his face and sucked in my breath. Looking back at me was the pasty, pockmarked face of my boss.

“Neil,” I yelled.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

Neil struggled up to a sitting position. He picked a piece of grass off his green-and-yellow plaid button-down shirt. “What am
I
doing here?” he demanded with a huff. “I should ask you that. I needed to talk to you, and since you weren't coming back to Chicago, I came here. Good thing I spotted your car and followed you, otherwise you would have been mauled by this cowboy.”

Yeah. Good thing. I might be naked and happy right now.

I got up and stood beside Lionel. He was rubbing his jaw and glaring at my out-of-shape, pencil-pushing boss, who apparently had a decent right hook.

“Are you okay?” I touched the red spot on Lionel's face, and Neil growled behind me.

Lionel gave a clipped nod. “I'm fine. Thanks for defending me against Captain America here.”

His jaw tightened as Neil awkwardly climbed to his feet. Lionel took a step toward him. “Now, if you don't mind me asking, who the hell are you? More important, why are you on my property?”

Neil pushed out his chest and shoved his hands into his beige Dockers pants pockets. “My name is Neil Capezio. Rebecca here is my employee and a very close personal friend.”

Lionel looked at me with one raised eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“Yes, he's my boss.” Neil wrote out my checks and helped with some of my more complicated mortgages. Once in a while we talked. I didn't think that counted as a close personal friendship, but I didn't want to say that and hurt Neil. Clearly, family problems were affecting his judgment.

Neil grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Lionel. “Look, I forgive you for being with this guy. Being in the middle of a crisis can make you do impulsive things. Now, is there somewhere we can go and talk? I really need to talk to you.”

I shot Lionel a “please be patient” look and asked, “Is it your brother?”

Neil's eyes widened.

“Jasmine told me about the accident,” I explained. “Are your brother and sister-in-law okay?”

Neil smiled. “They're both out of the woods. The doctors say it's a miracle.”

I let out a sigh. “That's great, Neil. I'm really happy for you.”

“I knew you would be. You know, since the accident I've been taking a hard look at my life. Time passes so quickly. It's easy to take people for granted. You only realize how important they are when they're gone.”

My mother's warm smile popped into my head. “I know how you feel. It's important to appreciate the people you love and stand by them while you can.”

“See, I knew you would understand.” Neil's smile grew wider. “That's why when you didn't come home I knew I had to come find you. Life doesn't wait. So will you marry me?”

I blinked. “What?”

“I want you to marry me. This whole thing with my brother made me realize there was more to life than money. I want more. I want you.”

I heard Lionel chuckle, but I didn't have time to deal with him now. Not while Neil was sinking down onto one knee with a goofy smile plastered on his face. He had to be on drugs. Either that or he needed a shrink to give him some.

“Look, Neil,” I said, pulling the guy back up to his feet. “I'm really flattered, honest, but I don't want to get married.” At least not now, and definitely not to him.

Neil's eyes narrowed, and his face turned three different shades of red. “This is because of him, isn't it?” His jaw tightened as he glared at Lionel.

Lionel took two steps toward Neil and cocked his head to one side as if daring Neil to take a swing. Neil's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as the two men locked eyes. Yikes!

I stepped in between them and gave Neil what I hoped was a sweet, understanding smile. “Look, Neil, I think you're a really great guy. I like working for you. But getting involved with someone you work with is a bad idea. You should look for someone who doesn't work at the office.”

Neil's face scrunched up. For a second I thought he was going to throw a tantrum. Then he surprised me by nodding.

I sighed my relief. Neil was going to return to earth from whatever dimension he had been visiting.

“You're right,” he admitted. “Married couples shouldn't work together.” Neil looked at Lionel, then back at me. “Rebecca, I hate to do this, but you're fired.”

“What?” I gasped. Okay, I was pretty sure he was going to fire me a week ago, but the indignity of hearing the words hit hard. My stomach dropped into my shoes.

My ex-boss's mouth spread into a goofy grin. “I agree with you, Rebecca, and I still intend to marry you.”

Was this guy for real?

Before I could recover from another trip to Neil's alternate universe, my ex-boss started toward his Volvo. With a glance at Lionel he said, “Sorry I had to hit you, but I care about Rebecca. I don't know what I'd do without her.”

Lionel crossed his arms while I wondered what I'd done to deserve this. We both watched Neil climb into his car and drive away.

“Well, that was interesting.” Lionel gave me an indecipherable look.

I shook my head. “Interesting is a book or a movie. That was a disaster. I don't know why he would ever think I'd marry him.”

“Could be because you're sexy as hell and not smart enough to realize when a guy is getting the wrong signals.”

I sputtered my indignation. Lionel added, “Next time your boss attacks me, I'd appreciate you staying out of it. I don't like women fighting battles for me.”

He turned on his heel and stalked back to the barn, leaving me alone to consider giving up men entirely. I didn't need stubborn and irritating in my life, which meant it was good Neil showed up when he did. Sexual exploits with Lionel would have only confused me. Right? Now I could focus all my energy on solving Mack's murder and getting myself out of town and back to Chicago where I belonged.

•  •  •

Memorial Day dawned, and I was up and out of Mom's apartment early. Indian Falls believed in celebrating Memorial Day in style. Ever since I was a kid, everybody turned out for the Memorial Day parade, which included floats made by the Elks, the Masons, the various women's guilds, and almost every extracurricular group at Indian Falls High. The best float won a traveling trophy. When I was a kid the thing looked worn and dented. Now it probably resembled shrapnel.

Following the parade was an all-day picnic held in the park, complete with music and a softball game. The senior citizens' group always played bocce ball. Major excitement.

I would have stayed on my sofa watching Bob Barker instead of the parade, but Pop never would have forgiven me. Besides, I reasoned Tom Owens would be one of the first to show up for the softball game. When he did, I'd be there in a pair of flattering red shorts and a low-cut white tank to cheer him on. If I didn't get a reputation after yesterday's dress, today's outfit would do the trick.

The streets were filled with people when I stepped outside. I staked out a shady spot underneath a tree and from there watched the floats stream by. As the high school marching band stumbled past, I studied the crowd. No Lionel. No Pop. Annette, resplendent in a flag T-shirt and blue platform high heels, was standing two trees away. After the way she acted the other day in the salon I wasn't sure she'd welcome my presence, but I trotted down to join her anyway.

Annette looked surprised to see me, then smiled at my outfit. “Someone's trying to get a certain vet's attention.”

“Nope,” I said, relieved my friend was back to acting normal. The Girl Scouts waved as they marched by. “But I am looking to catch the football coach's eye.”

Annette's jaw went slack. “Tom Owens?” I nodded, and she perched a hand on her hip. “What happened to Lionel?”

I shrugged. “He got a little irrational yesterday.”

“Honey,” Annette put one French-nail-tipped hand on my arm. “Guys get irrational when a woman's would-be fiancé turns up.”

“Okay,” I said. “How do you know about that?”

“Your boss stopped by the diner. Doreen was there.”

Oh God, I thought. Doreen put Paul Revere's communication skills to shame. That meant everyone within a hundred-mile radius knew about Lionel getting decked.

Annette's laughter made me turn my attention back to the parade. The senior center's float was rolling by. I did a double take. In the middle of the float was my grandfather, wearing an enormous black wig and strumming a guitar. Several blue-haired women lounged on the float, batting their eyes at Pop. Elvis's version of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” blasted from the sound system. Thank goodness the real King drowned out most of Pop's enthusiastic rendition. Pop sang like a hedgehog.

Annette commented, “Well, that's not something you'd ever get to see in Chicago—and neither is that.”

Trotting happily down the parade route was Elwood, resplendent in his Uncle Sam top hat. Lionel walked next to the camel, holding his lead rope. Not that Elwood needed to be led. The camel walked confidently down the road, swinging his head from side to side. Kids cheered and waved, and the camel rolled his eyes in response. Elwood was in his element.

When the parade mercifully came to an end, Annette and I strolled over to the park. Even though it was only eleven o'clock, the grounds were jammed with people. The smell of grilling meat made my stomach grumble.

“So,” Annette asked. “What's got you interested in Tom Owens?”

“He's Agnes's nephew and was a friend of Mack's. I thought it might be a good idea to chat with him.”

“He was Mack's best friend, but you should watch yourself,” Annette warned. “Tom is a lot like the football players he teaches—loud, immature, and aggressive. He hates when he doesn't get his way.”

Sounded like most of the men I'd known. Thinking about that reminded me to ask, “Hey, Annette, do you know of anyone who sees a psychiatrist? I know people around here don't typically talk about it if they do, but I thought you might know.” Precious's pills might not be the only clomipramine in town.

Annette gave me a funny look. “Rebecca, are you looking for yourself? Do you need someone to talk to?”

“Well, it's not—”

“Talking to a psychiatrist isn't anything to be ashamed of. After everything you've been through, I think it's a good idea that you see a professional.”

I shook my head at her assumption. “I don't really need to talk to anyone. Honest.”

Annette wasn't listening. She dug through her purse and smiled as she came out with a bent business card. “Here, call Dr. Skinner. I see him every week.”

The admission made my feet stumble, but Annette didn't seem to notice as she gushed, “He's a great listener, and he really helped me through some tough times. You don't know this, but I suffer from panic attacks. Not as much now as I used to, but Dr. Skinner's helped me by prescribing a couple of different medications to prevent them. The most recent one works great. I haven't had an attack in over three months. The man's a genius.”

Part of me wanted to ask what drugs she was taking, but I wasn't sure what I would do if the answer was clomipramine. Probably throw up. I took the card and shoved it into my pocket. That seemed to be all the answer Annette required. She beamed at me before looking around the park for a place to sit. Annette spotted something glittering in the sunlight and pulled me toward my grandfather. How I missed seeing him was a testament to how dazed her admission had left me. Only the Vegas strip and Pop's tacky suit could generate that kind of wattage.

Pop waved to us from a picnic bench. He had ditched the wig and now looked less like the King and more like Liberace.

“So what did you think of the float?” he yelled as we approached.

I perched on the weathered picnic bench, trying to ignore the icky feeling growing in my stomach since Annette's admission. “You got our attention,” I answered Pop.

Pop grinned. “The center went all out this year to win best float.” He looked up Annette. “Think we got a chance?”

She tilted her head to the side. “You were definitely the most original float out there.”

“That's what we were going for.” Pop turned back to me. “You disappeared awful fast after church yesterday. Louise and I wanted to invite you to lunch.”

Boy, was I ever sorry I missed that. “I had some things to take care of.”

“Like your former boss?”

“Did Doreen tell you?” I demanded.

“Nope.” Pop stripped off his Elvis scarf and used it to pat the sweat off his forehead. The temperature was on the rise. “Ran into the boy myself. There he is now.”

A lead weight settled into my chest as my eyes followed Pop's bony finger past the hot dog stand and cotton candy booth. Sure enough, there was Neil in purple plaid shorts and a yellow polo shirt. To make matters worse, he was heading right for us.

“Hi, Rebecca.” He strolled up to the picnic bench. To Pop he said, “Hello, Arthur. Your name is Arthur, right? I sometimes have a hard time remembering people's names, but I always remember faces. Your face is one I'd never forget.” Neil's excited voice tapered off.

Pop blinked. He gave me a look as if to say “I can't believe you actually associate with this guy.” Like Pop was one to talk.

I stood up. Looking my ex-boss in the eyes, I said, “Neil, what are you still doing here? I thought you were going back to the city.”

“I like parades,” he said with a shrug. Two bright red stains marched across his cheeks, killing his attempt to look casual. “The motel had a sign posted advertising the parade and picnic, so I decided to stay. Gives me a chance to get to know the place where you grew up. I should know about the woman I plan on marrying.”

“I said no.” And got fired for it.

Neil folded his arms across his chest. “Only because you haven't had a chance to think it through. You're going to realize how compatible we are and change your mind. I want to be right here when that happens.”