Gone With a Handsomer Man (26 page)

“Teeny, we need to talk,” Coop said.

“Sure.”

He still wouldn’t look at me, so I squeezed past him and poured a cup of coffee. Then I leaned against the counter and waited. But he kept staring at the floor.

“So, talk, O’Malley,” I said.

Red Butler walked into the room. “I checked the back gate. It’s shut, but it needs a chain and padlock. Even though you ain’t gonna be staying here long, you still need to take precautions.”

Coop took a sip of coffee and turned to me. “I’m taking the documents to a forensic expert in Columbia. If he thinks the signature is fishy, I’m calling the state attorney general’s office.” He touched my arm. “I’ll stop by later.”

I looked up into his eyes. Was this what he’d wanted to talk about?

“Not a good idea, Boss. The DA is after your ass.”

“I thought he was after me.” I laughed.

Cooper set his mug on the counter. “Red, can I have a few minutes with Teeny?”

“Make it snappy,” Red Butler said and walked off.

Coop reached for my hand. “I’m in a little trouble.”

“You?”

He nodded. “The DA called. Someone sent him a picture of me and you.”

“I don’t understand.” I felt dizzy. Where was my damn inhaler?

“Remember the night at McTavish’s?” he asked.

“You drove me home.”

“And we kissed.” He paused. “Someone took a picture. They mailed the photo to the DA. He’s going to report me to the Bar unless I cool it with you.”

“Who would take our picture?” I cried.

“That’s not the point, Teeny. Someone has been following you.”

Or you
, I thought. “Is that the only reason you’re cooling it?”

“Isn’t it enough?” His eyes widened. “I can’t be your lover and your attorney.”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I struggled to compose myself. “You didn’t mind last night.”

“I didn’t know about the photograph then. Teeny, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.” I wiped my cheeks. “Why did you go to that pub in the first place?”

“I go all the time. They have authentic British food. I’m addicted to their fish and chips.”

“Oh.”

“I want to be with you. I want it more than anything. You’ve got to know that.” He started to take my hand, then stopped. “But for now, we need to keep our relationship professional.”

“I wouldn’t get you in trouble for the world.” My shoulders sagged. I felt utterly defeated. I’d gotten over him once; I’d just have to do it again.

“We’ll still see each other,” he said. “We just have to keep it professional.”

Right. Whatever. I dabbed my eyes on a dish towel.

“Teeny, it’s only till this case is over.”

Sir trotted away from his bowl, and a moment later, Red Butler stepped into the room. “Get out of here, Boss. I’ll watch her good.”

“I’ll stop by tonight and see how y’all are doing,” he said, then he walked out the kitchen. A few moments later, the front door shut.

“When you got to deliver these cakes?” Red Butler asked.

“This afternoon.”

“We better get busy.”

He drove to Sam’s Club for flour and disposable cake pans. I pushed Coop and the DA out of my mind. Red Butler and I baked all morning, and by one o’clock, twenty-four cakes were boxed and waiting on the counter.

“I been watching
Top Chef
and
Man v. Food
,” Red Butler said. “I like Rachael Ray, too. She makes it look so damn easy. Doesn’t always measure, just eyeballs ingredients.”

He brought his van around front and we loaded the cakes. I was relieved not to see the catmobile. I put Sir in the bedroom with a piddle pad and a KONG toy. Just as I was punching in the alarm code, the gray front door flew open. I gaped into Natalie’s startled face. Behind her was a stumpy man with thready brown hair combed sideways over a bald spot. His muscular arms bulged in a green striped polo shirt. Standing next to him was a pretty honey-blonde, her curls floating around her chin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Natalie said. A key was in the lock, with a tag that said Spencer-Jackson House.

“Hold on.” I canceled the alarm, fingers trembling. I looked past her, at the couple. I guessed they were the buyers. “This is sort of a bad time,” I said, twirling my key chain. “Can you come back later?”

“Leave.” Natalie shrugged. “I’ve got a key. I’ll lock up.”

“But my dog’s in the bedroom. Someone could accidentally let him out.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Sorry, I can’t be too careful with my dog. Come back in an hour.” I paused. “Or three.”

The couple glanced at each other. Natalie pushed her sunglasses onto her head. “I don’t think you understand. This isn’t your property. I’m letting you stay out of the goodness of my heart.”

If she had a heart, and she didn’t, I’d be tempted to drive a stake through it. Better yet, I should serve her pie and coffee. I would serve key lime, with a few Templeton variations. I’d make the usual filling, but I’d add a nut crust, lots of chopped almonds and macadamias, with a handful of Barbados seeds. If a 120-pound woman ate two slices of pie, she’d be dead in thirty minutes. Tiny amounts only caused a laxative effect, but it was a powerful one and most unromantic.

She strode past me into the dining room, with her entourage right behind her. Their footsteps clattered as they stepped into the kitchen. My nerves were already frayed, so I followed them, ready to kick them to the curb. When I reached the kitchen, Natalie was reading
Templeton Family Receipts.

“Poisoned vanilla peach pecan coffee cake?” she cried. “What kind of cookbook
is
this?”

The back cover tore when I jerked it out of her hands. I hugged the book to my chest. “You better leave.”

“Says who? The owner of the house, or the dwarf with a poisoning cookbook?”

I heard footsteps in the dining room. Red Butler appeared in the doorway, looking from me to Natalie. “What’s going on?”

“She wants to show the house,” I said. “I asked her to come later.”

“So do it,” Red Butler said.

“Excuse me, but who are
you
?” Natalie’s nostrils flared.

“Her fairy godmother.”

“I own this house, and I’m going to show it to the new owners,” she said. “And if you try to stop me, I’ll call 911.”

“I am a cop, lady. Want me to call?”

“Look, I’ve been more than gracious.
I
have every right to be here.”

“Yeah, you’re the picture of Southern hospitality,” Red Butler said.

“It
is
my property, you know.” Natalie waved at the couple. “The Randolphs are buying this house. Closing is next Friday. Teeny, you’ll need to be out by Thursday at midnight.”

“No problem,” Red Butler said. “She’ll be gone. Until that happens, if you want to barge in, you either make an appointment with Teeny or wait till closing day.”

“Well, Mr. Whoever You Are, I’ll come when I please. And so will my buyers.”

“Were you here yesterday?” I asked.

“No.” She flashed an icy stare.

“I think you were,” I said. “And you left me a present.”

“No way.” She laughed.

“Someone hung a stuffed bulldog from the chandelier,” I said.

“I hope you aren’t accusing
me
of anything.” Natalie looked at the Randolphs as if she wished they weren’t there. “I’m not the dangerous one. Ask Teeny to show you her book. I pity her lawyer. Poor thing is rushing around like a cat, covering up her shit.”

The curly-headed woman squeezed Natalie’s arm. “Let’s go have a latte and come back later.”

“We’ll do no such thing,” Natalie said. “Besides, your decorator is on her way. Teeny and her fairy can’t do a damn thing to stop us.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “But you won’t be able to do a damn thing to stop me from playing your sex tape on the TV while you’re here.”

“What?”

Red Butler stepped between us, his eyes bugging. “Teeny, stop right now.”

“Somebody should’ve stopped her before she made a sex tape with my boyfriend,” I said. “I saw the tape. You and Bing. Gosh, if something like that got into the wrong hands, you could end up all over the Internet.”

“You are a liar,” Natalie cried.

“No lie. Just the truth.”

“I’ll sue you for defamation.”

“Do it!” I glared. “You’re in lots worse trouble. The signature on the deed isn’t Bing’s.” I turned to the couple. “There could be a problem. I wouldn’t call in a decorator just yet.”

Natalie whirled and pushed past the couple. Her high heels clicked frantically down the corridor. Red Butler put his hands over his eyes. I turned back to the couple.

“Can I give you a lift?”

thirty-four

During the drive to The Picky Palate, Red Butler gave me a crash course in slander. “Sheesh, you did it in front of witnesses! You can’t go round accusing Natalie of forgery or hanging stuffed dogs from chandys.”

“I never said forgery.”

“You said everything but. That’s still slander, okay?”

“If she didn’t hang that dog, who did?”

“That’s for the police to decide. But you—you’re in big trouble. You’re on probation, for Christ’s sake.”

“It won’t happen again.” If only I’d just called her an asshole.

“Too late for promises. If she’s guilty of faking Bing’s signature, you just tipped her off. She’ll have time to cover her tracks.”

*   *   *

The Picky Palate was empty when we arrived. Jan opened a box and sniffed the air over the cake. “Nice,” she said and pressed her finger against the surface. I stared, awestruck that she was handling food that she intended to sell. She glanced up, as if she’d heard my thoughts. “This cake is mine,” she said.

She cut a thick slice and held it up to the light. Her eyes closed as she fit a morsel into her mouth. There was no way of telling who’d baked this particular cake, me or Red Butler. We fidgeted while we waited for the verdict.

Jan nodded and swallowed. “Oh god, this is good. Can you deliver six Italian cream cakes by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow? Your cut will be fifteen dollars each.”

“You can count on me,” I said.

Red Butler drove me to the farmer’s market for organic eggs, then we hit the dollar store for staples. Despite Coop’s pledge to keep things professional between us, I wasn’t letting down my guard. When Red Butler wasn’t looking, I grabbed a lacy white bra and matching panties. Then I got three sheer nightgowns. I shoved the delicate items into the cart, under the flour and confectioners’ sugar. I drifted to the sale rack, where I found sophisticated blouses that reminded me of Ava. Two dollars each.

I piled them in the cart, one in each color—cream, raspberry, lettuce, pear, grape—then I froze. The colors were too loud. Just because my aunt Goldie was a clown didn’t mean I couldn’t dress anemic like Ava. I put back the blouses, except for the cream, and threw in white denims.

Red Butler let me out in front of the Spencer-Jackson and drove back to the parking lot on Adgers. I’d no sooner unlocked the gate, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around and looked up into Eileen’s broad face. She smoothed her gloved hands down a yellow jumpsuit with paw print appliqués. A yellow headband held back her bushy, dark blond hair, and a patent leather cat purse dangled from her arm.

“Do you remember me?” she asked.

“You’re Eileen, Bing’s sister,” I said. “I remember you from the cemetery.”

“You’ve got a good memory.” Eileen tapped her fingers five times, then she rolled her eyes.

“Where’re your cats?” I asked.

“In the RV. I left the air conditioner running full blast. So if you’re thinking of calling the Humane Society, think again.” She glanced past me, into the corridor. “May I come in?”

“I’m waiting for someone.” I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see Red Butler standing on the corner of East Bay and Adgers.

“I’m not stalking you, I swear.” She adjusted her gloves. One edge stuck up, and I saw her red wrist. “Although I had been,” she added. “But only a little. I wanted us to have a heart-to-heart. But you’re never alone. Honey, I don’t know what scheme you’re into, but it must be good. You’ve got men coming and going.”

“They aren’t my boyfriends,” I said.

“Sure.” She chuckled. Then she tapped her feet twenty times. “Don’t bother calling for help. I’m not going to stay long. I talked to Bing’s lawyer. He says you’re getting all my daddy’s properties.”

“Bing’s properties,” I said. I couldn’t resist.

“I’m sure you’re just itching to buy a private island somewhere, but I wouldn’t advise it. ’Cause I’m going to tie you up in court for years. I’m hiring me a heavy-hitting litigator—that’s a people version of an alligator. I’m not kidding. I’m contesting on grounds of undue influence. You put the squeeze on my brother.”

“It was the other way around, Eileen,” I said. “You’ll be gray-headed when you get that money.”

“I know it’s not easy to contest a trust,” she said. “I’ve been through this after Daddy died. He wanted a dainty debutante, but he got me. Even so, he wouldn’t have cut me out of the trust if Miss Dora hadn’t egged him on.” She licked each gloved fingertip, then tapped her feet together. “Look, Miss Templeton. I’m the last of the Jacksons. I’m sure you’re nice and all, but I can’t walk away from that trust. Besides, if the lawyer works pro bono, what have I got to lose?”

“Just your time. But I’ve been thinking. If I end up with the trust, I’d like to split it with you.”

“Split it?” Eileen looked suspicious. “What do you have in mind?”

“You take half, and I’ll give the other half to charity.”

“Charity?” Her face turned white. “Why would you do a fool thing like that?”

“Bing had goodness in him, and I want to set up a foundation in his name, to remember that goodness.”

“Are you shooting me a line of bull poop?” She snorted. “Because if you are, I’ll put a hex on you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, I’m not buying it.” Her eyes switched back and forth. “You might go to jail. Then I’ll get the whole thing.”

“Maybe you will. No matter what, I don’t want it.”

“Why the heck not?”

“If Bing had lived, he would’ve named a different trustee.”

“But he didn’t live. I deserve the whole estate. Not a penny should go to charity.” She peered into the corridor and frowned. “I wouldn’t want to live in this house—it’s a death trap for cats. If I did agree to a split, I’d gladly give you this pink monstrosity.”