Witches of Three_Philomena (9 page)

Tammy shrugged again, her mood turning edgy. “He did it,” she said adamantly.

“How do you—”

“I have to go. Thanks for the drink.”

Tammy slid off the stool and made her way across the room where she huddled at a table in a corner, took out her cell phone and placed a call. Phil looked around the bar and, seeing no one else who looked friendly and talkative, she paid her bill and left. As she closed the door behind her, she changed back to her normal appearance. A man crossing the parking lot looked at her startled then let out a long, slow whistle.

Phil grinned at him. A woman always liked a little male appreciation, but then her thoughts went back to Beck and the problem of who killed his wife.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” Beck greeted her when she returned home.

He’d finished working on the roof and was putting away his tools. He paused and watched her saunter toward him. The look on his face was the same as the man at the bar, one of appreciation at her beauty. She walked directly into his arms and crushed her mouth against his. He dropped the tools he held and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “I couldn’t think about anything else, but you.”” He grinned down at her, and she felt herself swell with need for him.

“Are you finished?” she asked between kisses. “We could go upstairs and I could show you what kind of mood I’m in.”

“I should put away the tools and clean up the mess and start on the stalls,” he murmured until she caught his lower lip between her teeth and gently nibbled.

He gasped and, lifting her in his arms, threw her across his shoulder. She screamed with delight as he stalked across the yard, entered the house through the patio doors and carried her upstairs. Once in her room, he threw her on the bed and fell down beside her. She was breathless with laughter and before she could recover, he clamped an arm around her and dragged her on top of him. She could feel the hard bulge of his arousal. His lips claimed hers and she relaxed against him, enjoying the anticipation of what was to come. His hands cupped her breasts, his kisses seared her mouth. Every erogenous zone in her body was on high alert.

He stripped away her clothes, his large hands gentle and warm as they touched her skin. She didn’t bother with buttons. She blinked her eyes and he was naked, masculine and sexy, his lean hips jutting with the power of his erection, his beautiful cock nestled in a patch of golden hair. She wanted to taste him, to feel his penis in her mouth. Before he could make his preferences known, she shoved him back on the bed and bent over him, taking his long, smooth shaft into her mouth. He groaned with pleasure, and she circled his tip with her tongue, nibbled the underside of his bulb and suckled him until his body was rigid with anticipation.

“You are a witch,” he said and she had to release him in order to laugh.

He took advantage of her momentary lapse and pulled her down. Now it was his turn to take advantage of her, which he did, laving every inch of her body until she was desperate for release. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he mounted her, parting her legs and entering her moist passage as smoothly as if he’d done it for all their lives. She felt the clutch of her muscles around his hard rod and drew in her breath and crooned as he rode her, gently at first then with increasing fervor until she felt herself being transported up a high ridge. They hung on the edge, gasping and crying out, before stepping off into a soft mist through which they floated back to their bed. Their bodies were melded by the sweat of passion. She licked his shoulder and tasted the salt. Something inside her turned over at this simple, erotic action. He was hers. He belonged to her and no one would ever take him from her. She would never let go of him. Mine, she thought, wrapping her arms around him and surrendering to the afterglow of lovemaking.

* * * *

“What did you find out?” Charlie asked.

She’d arrived shortly after Beck had gone off to work on the stables. Phil stared at her with narrowed eyes. Was Charlie monitoring their activities and if she was, how dare she? Charlie caught her gaze.

“What?” she asked, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “I waited until you were finished.”

“Charlie!” Phil said loudly. “Stay out of my personal life.”

“Well, I didn’t want to drop in at an inconvenient moment and I was right. You would have hated me if I’d shown up then. So I waited.”

“How thoughtful,” Phil said dryly. “What do you want?”

“To see how you did in your investigation. Did you find out anything?”

“I was warned away by a man who looked like he belonged to the mafia. And a barfly who claimed she was best friends with Diane really hated her because she stole her guy.”

“Sounds like a good motive for murder.”

“Maybe, but there’s a whole list of names Beck gave me that I want to check out.”

“So, you got Mr. Stoic to talk. I wonder how you managed that?”

“I asked him straight out. No sex involved,” Phil snapped, then wondered if that were absolutely true. Hadn’t they just made love? Charlie needn’t know that.

“Just as I thought,” Charlie said with a grin and shrugged. “However you get the information is fine as long as you get it.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot to go on yet.”

“What about the man who threatened you?” Charlie asked.

“I have no clue who he is,” Phil said.

“Let’s go look for him,” Charlie suggested, getting to her feet.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Phil stared at her sister.

“That’s why you’re lucky. I’m a policewoman, and I can help you out.”

“Don’t you have to work?” Phil asked, not certain she wanted Charlie to get involved.

“Day off,” Charlie said blithely. “Come on, we’ll start at that pub. Someone there may know the guy who threatened you.”

Before Phil could protest, they were in the car, headed to J&B’s.

“Shouldn’t we go in disguised?” she asked when Charlie parked the car.

“Nonsense,” Charlie said in her usual brisk manner then got out.

Sighing, Phil followed.

“Ladies, what can I do for you?” the bartender asked warily.

“We’re looking for a man,” Charlie said.

“What are you, cops?” he asked.

“No, I…” Phil began. “I was in here the other day and a man threatened me in the parking lot. We’re just trying to find out who he is.”

“What’d he look like?”

“I couldn’t see him real well. It was dark, and he was wearing all black.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” the bartender said. “A lot of people do it these days.”

“We don’t want him because he was wearing black,” Charlie spoke up. “We’re looking for him because he made threats.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you out.” The bartender turned around and started polishing the bar.

“Sounds like Lenny Barnes,” a woman said at their elbow.

Phil turned and looked at her. “Hello, Tammy,” she said quietly.

Tammy looked taken aback.

“You were in here, yesterday,” she said accusingly. “You look different—”

“Yeah, she cleans up good,” Charlie interrupted. “Tell me about Lenny Barnes.”

“He’s just a guy that comes in now and then.”

“Has he been in today?” Charlie prodded.

“Not yet.” Tammy began to drift away.

“Why would he want to threaten Miss Spencer just because she was making inquiries about a dead woman?”

“I don’t know,” Tammy answered defensively.

“What else can you tell us about him?” Charlie insisted, moving closer to Tammy.

The woman backed away. “I don’t know anything else,” she said.

“Where does he live?”

“I don’t know.” Tammy was starting to look alarmed.

“Where does he work?”

“I…I don’t know for sure,” Tammy stuttered. “I think he works for Joey Strada.”

“Where can I find him?”

“You can find Joey down on Euclid,” the bartender spoke up. “He runs a carwash down there.”

Charlie glanced from him to Tammy and back again. “Thanks,” she said and turned toward the door.

“Hey,” the bartender said. “We don’t like cops in here, especially lady cops.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charlie said and walked out.

Phil ran after her. For once, she was thoroughly impressed by her sister.

Chapter Eight

“What are we going to do here?” Phil asked Charlie as they peered out at the long low building with wet cars rolling out of two wide stalls. An office sat to one side.

“We’re going to check it out,” Charlie said with her usual self-assurance.

“You can’t just go in there and start asking questions,” Phil cautioned. “Why don’t we go through the carwash first and then ask questions. That way they’ll think we’re just customers.”

Charlie cast her a scornful look and opened the door. She marched into the office without checking to see if Phil followed, which of course, she did. By the time she’d joined her sister, Charlie was addressing the woman at the counter.

“I’d like to speak to Joey Strada,” she said without preamble, showing her badge

The woman looked at her wide-eyed and went to the back to knock on a closed office door marked ‘Private’. At a shouted acknowledgement, she entered and soon returned.

“Right this way,” she said and led them back to the private door, knocked once and motioned them inside. When she left, she closed the door behind her, which Phil found somewhat ominous. She turned back to Joey Strada, who remained seated.

Joey was not an unattractive man. He just wasn’t her type. With dark hair and hooded eyes that seemed to see too much and none of it pleasant, he had an air of danger about him. He was slim and tall, although not as tall as Beck. His gaze was calculating, his mouth a thin slash and a jaw that jutted forward aggressively. He looked ready for a fight with anyone over anything. Phil was ready to leave.

Charlie stood her ground. “Mr. Strada, I understand you have a man named Lenny Barnes working for you?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “What’s this about, Detective?”

“We’re looking for a man who might have been involved in the death of Diane Crawford. Your man, Barnes, threatened Miss Spencer in the parking lot at J&B’s pub. He warned her not to ask any more questions about the murder. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not a thing,” Joey said, spreading his hands wide, his face expressing an innocence that just didn’t look right on him. “What’s the name of the man you want?”

“We don’t know yet, but we hope Barnes might give us some insight,” Phil said, giving Charlie a quick warning glance. Phil didn’t trust Joey Strada and didn’t want to give too much away. “Did you know the victim?”

Joey’s eyes blinked involuntarily. “We had a drink together once in a while.”

“Were you ever intimate?”

“I think that’s my business, Detective,” he said sharply.

“We’re conducting a homicide investigation,” Charlie snapped.

“I answered all these question two years ago when she was killed,” Joey said. “Why don’t you try reading the files before you start bothering people all over again?” He turned his attention to Phil. “Are you the Miss Spencer who was a friend of Killie Hampton?”

Phil jumped and looked at him, mouth agape like a fish gasping for air. Strada waited, a mirthless smile curving his thin lips.

“You got the tense right,” Charlie spoke up. “She was his friend until he tried to steal her blind and she threw him out.”

“Smart lady,” he muttered. They waited for him to go on, but he remained silent. “Is that all, Detective?” he asked finally.

“Where can we find Lenny Barnes?” Charlie asked.

Strada shook his head and shrugged, his eyes watchful.

“Do you know where he lives?”

“My clerk will give you his address.” He picked up a piece of paper and began to read it, a clear sign of dismissal.

Defeated at last, Charlie turned to the door. “Thanks for your help,” she said sarcastically.

Phil cast one last glance at Strada and followed her sister out of the office. They stopped and got Lenny’s address from the clerk then made their way out to the car.

“Might as well get a wash,” Charlie said and pulled into line.

At a signal from one of the operators, she inched forward until her wheels were locked in place. The car lurched and began to move, aided by a conveyor belt. Just as suds splattered across the front window, a face appeared in the shadows beside the machinery.

“Charlie,” Phil gasped and grabbed her sister’s arm. “That’s him.”

“Where?” Charlie looked around, but water and suds completely covered the car now. Long heavy streamers of foam swiped back and forth over the car, washing away the dirt and grime and blocking the view. Through the sweeping motion, Phil once again caught a glimpse of the face.

“There!” she cried, pointing but the swishing foam covered the window.

“Where?” Charlie cried, opening her car door. Water sluiced in and she quickly slammed it.

“He’s gone now,” Phil said, straining to see beyond the cascading water and soapsuds.

“Damn it,” Charlie cursed. “Strada lied to us. Lenny was here all the time.” In frustration, she turned this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of the man. A deluge of water cleared the windshield.

“There he is!” Phil shouted, waving her hand at the exit.

At that moment, a spray of wax covered the car, followed shortly after by a wind machine that dried the wax. As the car rolled out of the carwash and into the open, workers sprang forward with towels and began to buff away any moisture that remained. Phil looked around for Lenny but saw no sign of him. She did spot a beat-up older Camry race out of the lot with a screech of the tires then disappear down the street.

“There he goes,” she told Charley. “Follow that car.”

“That’s enough fellows,” Charley cried as she put the car in gear and lurched forward.

Phil threw a handful of dollar bills out the window as a tip. Charley drove the way she did everything else, with dash and wild abandonment. Still, they weren’t gaining. Darkness had fallen like a curtain and it was hard to make out one car from another.