Skating Around The Law (8 page)

Today Lionel was dressed
in snug jeans and a green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I couldn't help noticing how the shirt brought out the color in his eyes. Too bad he was wearing a superior smile. Although he almost made it work, smug wasn't a look I found attractive.

“Sorry. I didn't see you.” For once I was telling the truth. Had I seen him, I would have steered in another direction.

He crossed his arms, and his smile grew wider. “I'm not surprised. You were in a real hurry. Trying to get out before Sean sees you?”

“No.” Maybe.

“Worried Sean might want to talk to you about your visit to Mack's house?”

I plunked my hands on my hips and gave Lionel a stern frown. “How did you hear about that?”

“Becky,” he grinned, “I hear about everything.”

My irritation went up another notch as I backed my cart up and started to roll it around his. Lionel stepped into my path. Now I was wedged in between his cart and the shelf of cereal. “Would you get out of my way?” I asked. When he didn't budge, I clenched my teeth and said, “Please?”

I was surprised when he stepped aside. “It's nice to know you can be polite. That might come in handy when you want extra toothpaste in jail.” He smiled before adding, “Trespassing is a crime Sean Holmes takes seriously.”

I blinked. Trespassing? Being arrested for trespassing would be bad, but it was better than breaking and entering. Sean must not know I'd been inside Mack's house. That made me smile. “Can I count on you to bake me a cake when I'm in jail?”

“No, but I'd be happy to testify. I could be a character witness.”

“Really?”

He gave me another annoying smile and started rolling his cart down the aisle. “Sure,” he said over his shoulder. “Far as I can tell, you're completely nuts.” With that parting salvo, he disappeared around the corner and left me and Captain Crunch alone.

I avoided both Deputy Sean and Lionel at the checkout counter and was loading groceries into my car when I heard a distinctive “tsk” behind me. I let out a mental groan and turned. Doreen's eyes glared at me from behind her glittering glasses. Funny, but I couldn't help noticing that the yellow blouse she wore made her skin looked a bit jaundiced.

“Hi, Doreen.”

She pushed her glasses up and sighed. “I tried to call you at the rink, but you didn't answer.”

“The rink is closed on Mondays.” I was certain Doreen already knew that.

She waved off my words, saying, “I think we should officially pull the rink off the market until Mack Murphy's murder is solved. No serious businesspeople will give me the time of day until then.”

I should have expected this. Only I hadn't. Somewhere inside I'd continued hoping that the rink would sell in spite of everything.

“Pull the listing,” I said with a wince. “Hopefully the case will be solved in a couple of days and we can put the rink back on the market.”

Doreen gave a sharp nod. “The minute the murderer is arrested, I'll start making calls.”

Thoroughly depressed, I thanked her and turned back to my trunk full of groceries, feeling faint. My vacation time from work only lasted another week. If I didn't figure out who killed Mack soon, I was going to be stuck in Indian Falls for good.

Ten minutes later, I lugged five heavy plastic bags into Pop's kitchen and began loading up the cupboards. As soon as I finished, my grandfather shuffled into the room. Typical male, I thought.

“Missed you at church yesterday morning, Rebecca.” He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the lunch meat I'd just purchased.

“I decided God would understand if I slept in.”

“God might, but the neighbors aren't so forgiving.” He pulled the newly stocked bread out of the pantry. “Marabelle Thomske got the whole women's group asking me where you were. I told them you were sick. So if anyone asks, you tell them that, or I'll never hear the end of it when I go to bingo.”

I sat down at the table and watched him assemble two large sandwiches. Why a salesperson thought it was a good idea to sell my grandfather stonewashed jeans and a tight black T-shirt was beyond me. Pop looked like he was trying to recapture the eighties—and failing.

“If you're worried, don't go to bingo,” I offered.

Pop turned. “Don't go?” He gaped like a largemouth bass. “I have to go. It's my turn to pull the numbers. All the women are real friendly to a man handling the balls.”

I choked back a horrified laugh while Pop finished making his lunch. He pulled two plates out of the cabinet, piled on the sandwiches, and put both plates in the refrigerator. My stomach grumbled in protest as lunch disappeared behind the door.

“Isn't one of those for me?”

Pop shook his head. “Louise is coming over for lunch. I can make another for you if you want to join us.”

I tried to come up with a polite way of saying “no way in hell,” but nothing came to mind. I started to sweat as Pop stared at me expectantly. Lucky for me, loud knocking on the kitchen door saved me from agreeing.

“Hello. Is anyone home?”

I knew that voice. It was following me. I put my head down on the table, convinced I should never have gotten out of bed this morning.

I heard Pop shuffle over to the door. “Can I help you with something, Dr. Franklin?”

“Actually, I'm here to see your granddaughter.”

I turned my head and opened one eye. Lionel was perched just inside the door, staring right at me.

Pop shuffled back into the kitchen, and Lionel followed behind him. I lifted my head and waited for my grandfather to turn his back. The minute he did, I glared at Lionel. “What are you doing here?”

Lionel smiled. “After you ran into me at the market, I got to thinking that if you hadn't eaten yet we could have lunch together.”

“I'm not hungry.” My stomach growled on cue. I felt my cheeks grow warm, but no way was I going to take my words back and agree to have lunch with him. Lionel was way too cocky. Being turned down would be a good character builder for him. Come to think of it, my saying no would be a public service for the entire female population of northwestern Illinois.

Lionel's smile widened as my grandfather said, “Rebecca is always hungry, only she doesn't want to hurt my feelings. Louise is coming for lunch, and I invited Rebecca here to join us. If you want, I can make more sandwiches. We're going to be eating in the living room. Louise has a daytime show she likes to watch, and I like being around when she does.” Pop winked at Lionel. “There's one character on the show that makes her real frisky.”

Visions of my grandfather and Louise getting frisky on the couch made my neck break out into a cold sweat. I had to get out of here. Fast.

I raised my eyes to meet Lionel's. His were crinkled with suppressed laugher, while mine, I knew, were filled with panic. He leaned against the wall, shoved his hands in his back pockets, and raised an eyebrow. I got the message loud and clear. Lionel was waiting to see how desperate I was to get out of here. I clenched my teeth. I was really desperate.

“You and Louise already have plans,” I told my grandfather. “I don't think Lionel and I should intrude.”

“You wouldn't be intruding.” Pop opened the refrigerator and began rummaging through the cold-cuts drawer. “No trouble to make two more sandwiches. You bought more than enough meat at the market.”

I mouthed the word “help” to Lionel. For a second I thought he was going to let me suffer. Mercifully, he said, “With work and all, I've been inside a lot lately, so I was hoping to eat lunch outdoors. I even brought a picnic blanket. What do you say, Rebecca? Will you have lunch with me?”

If I'd been sitting on an erupting volcano I couldn't have gotten up faster. “After all the trouble you took, how can I say no?”

Lionel shot Pop an apologetic look. “Maybe next time,” he said as he took my arm and steered me out of the kitchen.

Five minutes later, we were traveling out of town in silence. Lionel's enormous black pickup truck looked like it was on steroids, and I had to wonder if its owner was compensating for something. Finally, curiosity got the best of me, and I asked, “Did you really bring a blanket?”

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to grin at me. “Yes, along with a bottle of wine. Both necessities for a good picnic.”

That sounded about right to me, and I gave him a tentative smile. “I guess I should thank you. I couldn't have handled a double date with my grandfather and his girlfriend.”

“I think you would have survived. How bad could watching daytime television with those two be?”

“Picture
Wild Kingdom
with cheesy background music and old people.” Lionel's eyes widened. “Got the picture now?”

“Your grandfather has to be eighty years old.” His voice held an almost reverential quality at the idea of a guy Pop's age getting it on. I rolled my eyes.

“Actually he's seventy-six, but he's acting like he's found the fountain of youth. This is the second woman he's gone on a date with this week. The first one slept over.”

Lionel chuckled. “That must have been fun.”

I shuddered. “You have no idea.”

Lionel parked his testosterone-fueled truck, and I hopped down. Wildflowers grew near a small lake sparkling a bright blue, the occasional tree guarding its shoreline. The spot was beautiful, perfect for a picnic. Problem was, I'd been paying more attention to the driver than the roads. I had no idea where we were, and the disorientation was unsettling.

I went to the back of the truck, where Lionel was unloading a large picnic basket. Making myself useful, I grabbed the blanket and followed him down to the lake's edge. I unfolded the blanket while Lionel unpacked the food—and it was a lot of food. The basket reminded me of one of those clown cars. Food, wine, plates, and more food kept coming. Good thing I was starving. There was no way the stuff piled on the blanket was ever making it back in that wicker basket.

Lionel uncorked the wine. He poured me a tumbler, and I took a sip of the burgundy liquid. My entire body sighed with pleasure. The vet knew how to pick camels and a good merlot.

I leaned back and studied Lionel over my glass. “So, do you take all your picnic dates here?”

“Only the ones avoiding law enforcement,” he said, opening a carton of colorful pasta salad. “Mostly I come here to fish. I didn't bother to bring my poles today. You don't look like the fishing type.”

I sat up straight. I was pretty sure I'd just been insulted. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, handing me a plate. “City girls don't like baiting hooks or touching squirming fish. I tried fishing with a city girl I dated in college. By the end of the day I was tempted to throw her into the water.”

“What stopped you?”

“I didn't think the fish would appreciate it.”

I filled my paper plate with fried chicken, pasta salad, grilled veggies, and crusty French bread. Then, leaning on my elbow, I started to feast. The food was perfect, and my stomach thanked me with every bite. After a minute, I looked at Lionel and reminded him, “I'm not technically a city girl. I grew up here, you know.”

Lionel smirked at me. “That doesn't mean a thing.”

I blinked. “I lived here year-round for eighteen years. That should count for something.” For some reason it was important to me that he agree. Yes, I like the city, but this was my hometown. I felt like Lionel was cheating me out of something I'd earned.

The jerk refilled my wineglass. “Not really. Everybody in Indian Falls knows you never liked it here. That's the reason you're in such a hurry to sell the rink, isn't it?”

“I have a job, friends, and an apartment in Chicago. I can't stay here and run the rink. It's not practical. Anyone can see that.” At least I hoped so. I wasn't selling the rink because I didn't fit in. The thought that my mother's friends could think so cut deep into my heart. For a moment I felt like I was back in grade school. Dad's leaving made me feel like an outsider then, and I'd spent years telling myself I'd been wrong. Maybe not.

Lionel shrugged and popped a piece of chicken into his mouth. “It's your life. You can do what you want with it.”

I drained my wineglass and concentrated on my plate. Since Lionel was quiet, I decided he was doing the same. The silence was nice for about three minutes; then the ideas he'd raised started replaying in my mind. Trying to avoid the uncomfortable feelings roiling inside me, I asked, “So you were always a small-town boy?”

“Nope. I grew up just outside of Chicago.” He smiled at my look of surprise. “My parents are still trying to understand how I ended up treating horses and cows. The biggest pet I had growing up was a goldfish.” He opened another bottle of wine and filled my glass.

“Did they ever figure it out?”

He nodded. “I did a school project on zoos. I spent the day with one of the Brookfield zookeepers. That was it. I was hooked. After going to the University of Illinois for my veterinary degree I ended up here.”

I had to ask, “Why Indian Falls?” The animals I got, but moving to Indian Falls wasn't something a person did on purpose. Sane people moved away from Indian Falls.

He pulled out a container of fresh fruit from the never-emptying picnic basket and popped it open. “Three years ago the old vet, Dr. Johnson, was moving to Florida. I heard he was selling the practice. So I came out to see it and signed the contracts the same day. Now this is home.”

Home, I thought. My body tensed, and I recognized the icky feeling rolling around inside my chest. I was jealous. Lionel sounded happy with the home he'd chosen, and from what I could see, Lionel was accepted here. He really was home.

I wasn't. In Indian Falls I was a city slicker, and in Chicago my friends still thought of me as a country girl. It didn't seem fair, but maybe that was just the wine talking. I was feeling more than a little light-headed.