2 Death Makes the Cut (19 page)

He stared at me in exasperation, running a hand through his curling hair, which made it stand up in wavy spikes. “And if whoever did this comes back tonight, what are you going to do then?”

I reached for my baseball bat, which I’d pulled from my closet and left by the front door. “I will pound the everlasting shit out of him. In fact, I hope he does come back.”

Silence hung in the air between us. From the kitchen Belle’s tags jingled as she scratched an ear with great enthusiasm. A moment later, she waddled between us, bounced a few times, and at last made the leap onto the couch. Our eyes followed her, both of us glad to have something other than each other to watch.

At last Colin drew a deep breath and spoke slowly, as though to someone very dense. “For several reasons, I think that we, the police, need to keep surveillance on your house for the next night or two. Because this is my case, tonight I’ve drawn that duty. Now, I can watch from my car, but that is a damn uncomfortable way to spend a night. However, with your permission,” he said with exaggerated politeness, “I could fulfill my duties from the comfort of your sofa and possibly be able to get a few hours sleep. I was up fairly late last night.”

A vision of him at my hospital bedside at 3:00
A.M.
flitted through my brain, followed closely by one of him reassembling my bed, cleaning up broken glass, and generally being just about the greatest guy anyone could ask for. Also the most stubborn. I was being incredibly ungrateful and rude, two things that I didn’t normally consider myself to be.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last, though the words stung a bit. “I’m very thankful for everything you’ve done. I don’t think you need to stay because I think everything that’s going to happen to me has already happened, but if you are going to watch my house anyway, I’d be very happy for you to stay here.”

He smiled. It was probably my imagination, but I thought he looked a little smug, having successfully handled a difficult member of the public.

“On one condition,” I added.

His black brows drew together. “And what would that be?”

“I want my key back.”

He looked blank for an instant, then the brows went up. “Fred’s key? That key is evidence.”

“Of what?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“It wasn’t at the crime scene, you don’t know what it’s for, and it had my name on it. It’s mine.”

“It doesn’t have your name on it.”

“It was left for me. That makes it mine. And you can’t tell me you still consider me to be a suspect in Fred’s death.”

He frowned at me. “Do you know what the key is for?”

“No.”

“Then it’s no good to you.”

“I want it,” I insisted. “What if I find whatever it is that it opens?”

“Then you can call me. Look,” he raised his hands as I was about to protest, “it’s logged into evidence. I can’t get it back to you right now, even if I wanted to. You find what it’s for, and I promise you can be there when we open it.”

It would have to do, although I was pretty sure I’d just been outmaneuvered on all counts. I found blankets and pillows for him. I even offered the use of the spare room, but he said he’d rather be in a central location. I took Belle and went to my own room, oddly comforted by his presence, though I would never have admitted it. I fell asleep listening to the sound of his footsteps on the wood floors as he checked the doors and went for something in my refrigerator.

Chapter 12

SHOPPING AND SURVEILLANCE

Sunday started off better than the day before, although admittedly that bar was not very high. I awoke to find Colin already gone and was surprised by a feeling of deep disappointment. What did I expect? That we’d sit together over bacon and eggs, chatting about the day?

I took my time getting dressed. My head felt much better, but my muscles were picking up the slack, leaving me stiff and sore. The bruising on the left side of my face, though no longer swollen, had blossomed like violets in April and now included an impressive range of greens and yellows in addition to the original blues and purples. I started to pull my hair into a ponytail, then changed my mind. Leaving it down masked some of the injury.

By the time my coffee was ready and Belle was outside patrolling the perimeter of the yard for squirrels, Kyla was knocking at the door. I admit the sound made me jump, even more so when she almost immediately used her key to let herself in. I froze halfway to the living room, heart pounding, as the door opened. We stared at each other, both startled for a second, then Kyla entered the rest of the way and closed the door behind her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up yet. Didn’t think about scaring the socks off you.”

“Guess I’m a little nervous,” I admitted. “Stupid.” I returned to the coffeemaker and poured myself a mug. I offered it to her, but she shook her head.

“Had a latte on my way over.” She looked around. “Where’s Colin?”

I shrugged. “He was gone before I got up.” I hoped she didn’t hear the sulky disappointment in my voice.

“I hope you were nice to him. He was pretty damn awesome yesterday.”

“Yes, he was,” I agreed.

She looked me up and down, frowning. “I wish I knew what they saw in you,” she muttered under her breath, as she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down.

“What? Who?” I asked, as I poured cereal into a bowl and added milk.

Outside, the golden sunlight began pouring over the fence and into the yard, sparkling on the dewy grass like tiny jewels. The paths where Belle had trodden and removed the moisture crisscrossed the yard, showing dark green trails in the silver glitter. The raucous call of a grackle sounded clearly through the window, as much a sign of summer in Austin as the whirring of the cicadas.

She snorted. “Exactly. You are so clueless. Colin for starters. You aren’t even trying, and he can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Don’t be stupid. He’s investigating a case. Not that I’m not completely fascinating of course,” I added.

“I suppose you think he sticks around and helps everyone this way. You do realize that he was off duty yesterday.”

“No, he wasn’t. He said he was assigned to surveillance detail.”

She just shook her head in disgust. “My God, you would believe anything. I’d put it down to your head injury, but you’re always like this.”

I paused as her words sank in. Had Colin really been off duty? And if so, why would he bother to lie about it?

I realized that Kyla was still watching for my reaction to her insult, so I shot her a glare and the finger.

“All right, all right,” she held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll drop it. For now.”

I carried my cereal bowl and coffee cup to the sink. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what’s up?”

“I’m taking you shopping,” she grinned at me. “Labor Day weekend—everything is on sale, and every store is open early.”

I felt a spark of interest. Shopping with Kyla is like watching a great master at work. She’s extremely successful in her career, so money is seldom an object, and she has an eye for style and bargains that makes every expedition an adventure. Besides, it would be nice to get out of my wrecked house for a while and think about something else.

“I’m in,” I said with pleasure. “What are you shopping for?”

“You,” she said, gesturing around the room. “We’re getting your stuff back.”

I bit my lip. “We can’t. It will be weeks before the insurance check comes.”

She just laughed. “Monsieur MasterCard and I don’t give a crap. I’m buying.” She held up a hand before I could protest. “You can pay me back when you get the check. Now, get your purse. We’re going.”

And we went. Within one hour, I had a new TV, a PlayStation, which Kyla assured me was the best DVD player, and a computer monitor so large that astronauts would be able to read my e-mail from space. Within a second hour, I had a new sofa, which Kyla negotiated to less than one third the original price and somehow got free delivery and removal of the old sofa thrown in. After that, we stopped by my house to off-load the electronics, then drove to north Austin to The Domain, the snootiest luxury shopping available in central Texas.

As we turned onto Braker Lane and I realized where we were going, I finally protested. “I can’t shop here. In fact, I don’t think you can shop here. Don’t you need to show your trophy-wife card to get into the parking garage?”

She just laughed. “Perhaps. But today is a magic day, and we have the keys to the royal enclave. All the summer stuff is on sale even though it’s still ninety-five degrees out, and you and I need a few things.”

I followed her along the tree-lined sidewalks, popping into one designer shop after another and marveling at her self-assurance and taste. My bruised face received far less attention than I anticipated, and I started feeling somewhat less self-conscious about it.

I mentioned it to Kyla, and she considered.

“They probably assume that either your sugar-daddy husband beats you or that you’ve just had a bad round of Botox. Bet they see worse every day.”

She pulled three dresses from a rack in quick succession and pushed them into my arms. “Try those on,” she ordered.

I’d lost the will to fight her three stores ago, so I obediently entered a large, carpeted dressing room and started stripping. After all, there was no harm in trying something on. I didn’t need to buy it. I heard her enter the dressing room next to me.

“Alan gets back today,” I said, suddenly remembering.

“Does he know about all this?” she asked, after a pause.

“No, not yet. I could have tried to call him, but there wouldn’t have been any point. And the time difference makes it hard.”

“Not that hard,” she said. “You could have called if you’d wanted him.”

“Yeah, but he couldn’t have done anything.”

“Because he’s never here. What kind of a boyfriend is that? You guys aren’t any closer to a real relationship than you were back in March when you each thought the other was involved in a murder.”

I flinched, but I couldn’t really argue. “I really like him, Kyla,” I said finally.

She was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was more gentle than usual. “Sometimes that’s just not enough. You had a bad experience with that asshole you married, but there are other good guys out there, you know.”

I thought I knew what this was about. “I hate to break this to you, but I’m just not interested in that Sherman guy. Much as I appreciate the thought,” I said.

There was another moment of silence from the next room. Removing one dress that did nothing at all for my figure, I slid on a shimmery blue wisp of silk and drew in a delighted breath as I looked into the mirror. It was gorgeous. I turned, admiring at the way it slimmed my waist before falling in soft folds to my knee. Then I turned again, struggling to reach the price tag. I hadn’t had the nerve to look at a single tag since we’d arrived at The Domain, but now I needed to know.

Kyla cleared her throat. “About Sherman,” she said.

“You have to see this dress,” I interrupted, opening my door.

“Just a sec.” I heard the sound of a zipper, then her door opened and she leaned out.

I turned, showing her all angles.

“It’s perfect. It could have been made for you. You have to get it.”

“Maybe. It goes really well with my bruise. Brings out the indigo hues,” I said, catching sight of my reflection in a three-way mirror at the end of the corridor. “But where would I wear it?”

“Anywhere. It’s just a casual dress. Exceptionally pretty, but still casual. You could wear it on a date for example.”

Not the kind of dates I usually went on, which involved beer and food I could pick up with my fingers.

“Or a school banquet,” Kyla added, as though reading my mind.

I brightened. “Good point. I’ll take it.”

I was about to step back into my dressing room, and Kyla was just shutting her door, when I remembered something she’d said.

“Hey, what were you going to tell me about Sherman?”

I heard the sound of a zipper again. She was trying on another dress. “It’s not important.”

“Tell.”

There was a moment of silence, then the door opened again and she stepped out wearing a yellow sundress that made her look as slender and pretty as a teenage debutante.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“That I hate you and everything you stand for.”

“Okay then. I’ll take it,” she said, looking satisfied. Then she added, “I might have gone out with him last night.”

“What?”

“Sherman. I sort of went out with him.”

“On a date?”

“Maybe.” She’d slipped back into the dressing room. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? What … no! No, I’ve already told you I’m not interested in him. But I didn’t think you were either. Weren’t you trying to set him up with me?”

I could visualize the shrug. “Yeah, it’s not smart dating a coworker. He’d flirted a little, and I’d cut him off. But it didn’t seem like he should go to waste, so I was going to give him to you.”

“You are aware that he’s a man, and not the last slice of pizza in the box?”

Ignoring me, she went on, “However, seeing him with that fat cow at Artz drove me crazy, so I reopened negotiations.”

“I don’t know, he looked like he was pretty into her. Or parts of her,” I teased.

“Trying to make me jealous,” she said. “Which it did. So now we’re dating, and we’ll see how it goes. I figured you wouldn’t mind, what with having two men making goggle eyes at you.” She said this last with the all too obvious intention of diverting the topic of conversation.

It almost worked. I was opening my mouth to protest but sidestepped at the last minute. “So, is he going to change his name?” I asked.

“He refuses. But I think I’m starting to like it. It’s unique.”

“Sherman. Yes, it has a nice ring to it. Sherman the German. No, too World War II. Sherman the Merman. No, too wet. Oooh, I know. Sherman the Vermin.”

“Please, please, I’m begging you. Shut the fuck up,” she said. But without heat.