Artful Dodger (Maggie Kean Mis-Adventures) (17 page)

Chapter Ten

“Well, you were a big hit with the family,” Villari growled in the dark car parked outside my house.

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“I’d be a lot happier if you’d quit skirting the issue and tell me what’s going on in that secretive little brain of yours.”

I sighed. The man sounded like a broken record, and I knew that if I didn’t say something, he’d never shut up. “Look. I’ll agree to cave in a little and let you in on a few things that I’ve discovered, but you have to agree to back off when I tell you to.”

“Back off how?”

“Like the line from an old song, ‘don’t ask me how I know what I know’.”  Even with his face hidden in the shadows, I could feel his scowl. 

He ran his hands through his hair a couple of times, apparently barely holding on to his patience. “These are damn stupid rules you’re insisting on and this does nothing to ease my mind about you taking care of yourself and staying out of the investigation. I’ll agree to your terms, but don’t push me too far. I’m very close to breaking your spindly little neck.”

“Wow, you do have a way with words.”

“Don’t tempt me, Maggie,” he warned. “Now tell me what you know or what you think you know.”

“It isn’t much really; at least I don’t see how it all fits in. I happen to know, and this is where you’re not allowed to ask questions about how I got my information,” I said, ignoring the strangled sounds of frustration, “that Vacuum Nose has some kind of relationship with Lindsay Burns.”

The car went quiet. I admit I didn’t think he’d whoop and holler when he heard what I had to say, but I expected more of a reaction than complete silence.

Finally he spoke. “Who is Vacuum Nose and who is Lindsay Burns?” he asked quietly.

I backed up and told him the whole story—well, the whole story minus the part about stealing Elizabeth’s appointment book and the stakeout. Some things were just better left unsaid.

Villari looked confused. “And you think this Lindsay Burns had something to do with Elizabeth’s death?”

“I don’t have any idea. I just got her name.. .” I said, hesitating a split second too long. Villari narrowed his eyes. “And I am supposed to believe that you just
happened
upon her name and then just
happened
to see her with Officer Mailer?”

“Look, Detective, you were the one who was so all-fired interested in what I was doing and what I found. Well, I told you. I told you everything except a few minor details.  I kept my part of the deal and told you what I knew.  You, on the other hand, have not.” I started to pull on the door handle when he reached his arm across my waist and held me still.

“Maggie.”  His voice was low and serious.  “The things you’re not telling have me worried. The only way you could have gotten that information was to do something bordering on illegal, which, on one hand, I don’t even want to think about. On the other hand, it might provide me with specifics I really need.” He leaned his head back against the seat. “What you’ve told me, sketchy as it is, gives me reason to check out Ms. Burns and Officer Mailer, which absolutely stinks. There’s nothing easy about checking up on a fellow cop. The department is filled with big ears and even bigger mouths, and once you start making inquiries, if you’re not discreet enough, the cops will circle around Mailer like a wagon train to protect their own. I’ll be stonewalled before you can blink.”

“Even if the guy is guilty?”

Villari turned to me, his eyes as dark as chocolate. “What’s he guilty of, Maggie? Of knowing a woman named Lindsay Burns who may or may not have had any contact with Elizabeth?”

“Of course she had contact. She said so herself. She called her ‘the bitch.’ ”

“But that’s a long way from killing her.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I never accused her of being the murderer. But why was her name—” I shut my mouth before I ended up in jail for burglary.

“Yes, that’s the rub, isn’t it? I don’t know where you found her name, but I’m willing to bet it wasn’t right out in the open. You went digging, didn’t you?”

“Villari,” I warned, “I’m not giving in here. Take the information or not, it’s up to you.”

He ignored me. “Are you sure it was Officer Mailer you saw?”

“I’m sure. The man snorts like a bull. He’d be hard to miss.”

“Great,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Now I have to investigate a cop on the basis of his large nostrils. The captain will love this.”

“Can’t you just put out some feelers or something? Call in some favors?” I asked, watching his hair fall forward in loose curls. “You know, your hair would look a little less rumpled if you’d quit plowing your fingers through it whenever you get frustrated.”

“You notice my hair?”

“Not really,” I said flippantly. It wasn’t easy being nonchalant while my stomach squirmed like a fish dangling on a hook. “I can’t help but notice how you dig rows through your scalp every time things don’t go your way.”

“You know, Maggie,” he whispered, “you’re not a very good liar.” He reached over and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. Again.

Heat flooded my face and headed south. How could the simple touch of his fingers grazing my cheek throw me off balance? Instinctively, I pulled back and edged toward the door, but Villari trailed his fingers down the front of my blouse, grabbed a fistful of material, and tugged me forward, right next to him. Before I could respond, he leaned toward me and fused his mouth with mine.

His kiss was soft but insistent. His tongue slipped between my lips and skimmed the tops of my teeth. I could taste him, hot and sweet, as he deepened the kiss. He dragged me closer and closer until I could smell a light scent of soap mixed with clean, masculine sweat, as he held me hostage with his hands and mouth. Dazed and confused by the sheer largeness and nearness of his body, I didn’t know what to think or how to respond. But my body did. Boy, did it ever. And I was powerless to resist. I ran my fingers through his hair like I’d been itching to do since the moment I first saw him standing in my front yard. My other hand came up behind him and traced the strong-corded muscles that ran the length of his back.

He nipped and nibbled my bottom lip. Then suddenly, without warning, he released my blouse and cupped my chin, tilting it up until he had me pinned under those liquid eyes. “If you don’t get out of the car now, there’s not a chance in hell that I’ll be able to control what happens next.”

I felt drugged, unable to respond. Even in this awkward position, my hips were arching toward his, ready to mate like a wanton slut.

“Maggie?” His voice barely penetrated the heavy fog that clouded my brain.

“Maggie?”

“That’s my name,” I murmured.

“Let me take you in now.”

“Please take me,” I practically begged. “No one’s stopping you.”

“I meant, to the door,” he explained.

Mortified, I dropped my hands and scooted away as quickly as possible, wrenching the door handle in one smooth movement. At least it was smoother than the crazy jerking my heart was doing at the moment.

“Maggie, wait.” He caught my arm as I was climbing out.

I stopped, but I refused to face him. The last thing I needed was for him to see how turned on I’d been, ready to ditch my panties the moment he asked.

“Sit here until I can come around,” he pleaded. “Please.”

But I couldn’t. The moment he released my arm, I jumped out and ran up on the front porch. I pulled my key out of my skirt pocket and tried to insert it in the door. My hands were shaking badly, though, and I dropped the key on the ground. I picked it up and was still fumbling with the door when he reached me, put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me around.

“Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” I said, unable to look at him. “I’m just a little embarrassed. I guess I misread the signals.” I looked straight ahead, studiously checking out the buttons on his shirt. No way was I going to drop my gaze any lower.

“You didn’t misread any signals, Maggie. There’s nothing in the world I want more than to carry you into the bedroom and make love to you all night long, but I can’t.”

I waited for him to continue.

Villari dropped his hands and jammed them into the back pockets of his jeans. He paced up and down the porch, passing quietly in and out of shadows without saying a word. I thought he might slip soundlessly into the darkness, unnoticed, until I heard his car pull away from the driveway.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before.” His voice wafted in on the blackness, a dark profile standing at the edge of the railing. But now I wanted to see his face, to gauge his expression. His words were so vague, how could I know what he was really saying unless I could see the look in his eyes, the turn of his mouth?

“Irritating, annoying, argumentative,” he continued. With that lovely trio of adjectives, however, I didn’t need to see his face. There weren’t going to be any gooey, lovesick eyes staring back at me. I turned around and jiggled the key impatiently. I saw no need to stick around and hear a summary of all my flaws, not as long as I still had a trace of pride left.

“With a nasty habit of running away when things get uncomfortable,” he added.

With my face to the door and one hand wrapped around the doorknob, I mustered my last vestige of courage. “Only an idiot hangs around while someone shoves his face in the mud.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Maggie. I’m trying to explain.”

I swiveled around and peered into the darkness. “Are you crazy? Reciting a list of nasty attributes hardly explains anything.” I stopped. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it does. Maybe it explains why you want to keep things from going any further... uh, physically.”  I choked over the last words, humiliated to be acting like a horny teenager in the throes of unrequited lust.

“Impetuous, impulsive,” he proceeded calmly, “and crazy enough to rush headlong out of an airplane without checking to make sure there’s a parachute on your back.” The warped, wooden slats popped and moaned under the weight of his footsteps. Seconds later he stood in front of me. He lifted one finger and skimmed the side of my jaw, a simple gesture that sent delicious tingles up and down my arms until I had to clench my fists against the onslaught.

“Stop touching me, Villari. I get the picture, so you don’t need to go through this charade. You’re not interested. Believe me, I can handle this.” I took a deep breath and glared at him. “Despite what your ego insists on believing, being turned down sexually is hardly life-threatening. In the scheme of things, it doesn’t even register as a blip on the radar screen.”

His eyes drilled a hole in my face. They practically singed my skin raw and I half expected to see smoke rising off my cheeks, but I refused to look away. Forget this guy, I told myself. First he stalks me, woos me, even takes me to his mother’s for dinner, and then when I finally capitulate, he wants to play Mr. Integrity. I stared right back at him, tit for tat, narrowing my eyes into a dangerous look that was, I hoped, both strong and seductive.

Which obviously didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, Villari threw his head back and laughed. My smoldering provocative look dried up like stale bread and I stood there shifting back and forth, not knowing what the hell was going on.

“Maggie,” he finally managed to sputter between breaths, “you have the patience of a gnat and the tenacity of a bulldog all rolled up into one extraordinarily charming package.”

I stuck out my chin. “If you even think about telling me how cute I am when I’m angry, you’ll be minus one manly testicle as a result.”

He placed both hands on my shoulders, bowed his head, and rested his lips lightly on my forehead. “Honey, you’re adorable when you’re angry and adorable when you’re not,” he whispered against my skin. “If you hadn’t raced to get out of the car, I would have explained what I meant when I said we needed to stop. All I was trying to say is that we should probably wait before going any further in our relationship—”

“There is no relationship,” I protested hotly, pulling away.

“—until the murder is solved and it doesn’t look like a conflict of interest,” he continued after grabbing my arms and drawing me back.

“What kind of conflict of interest could there be if I’m not a suspect?” I demanded, my voice muffled since my nose was now smashed against his chest, a wall of steel muscles. A bit like crashing into Superman.

“Everyone is a suspect until the murderer is found, Maggie. Absolutely everyone. But right now you’re at the bottom of the list, where I fully expect you to stay. But I’m still in charge of the investigation and I don’t want any comments, raised eyebrows, or even the slightest suspicion that I compromised the case because I was involved with you. Suspect or not, you are the closest link we’ve got.”

I slowly relaxed against him as he tightened his arms around me. “I still can’t believe all of this,” I confessed. “Sometimes a few minutes will go by and I’ll forget about this whole sordid mess and I’ll look up, half expecting to see Elizabeth standing in front of me holding a cup of coffee and lecturing me on some aspect of art or my lousy sense of style.” I turned my head and laid my cheek against his shirt, sidling closer until I could hear his heart beating rhythmically. It felt strong and powerful, pulsing loudly enough to reassure me that some things were still very much alive.

He rested his chin on the top of my head and lightly twisting the ends of my hair with one hand. His other arm wound around me like a boa constrictor, which sounds frightening, but really wasn’t. I felt safe, cocooned from a world that had recently turned very harsh. Of course, for a moment I wondered whether the boa routinely seduced its prey before squeezing the life out its body like a tube of toothpaste. I shuddered.

“I’d love to say things will get better soon, Maggie, but the truth is, they won’t. Until the murderer is put behind bars, it’s hard for people to get on with their lives and move forward. And when we do catch the guy who killed Elizabeth Boyer, don’t be surprised if you start grieving all over again. Right now anger and fear and all sorts of emotions have probably kept you from feeling the total impact of her death.”