Coffee & Crime (36 page)

Ted buttoned his shirt back up and smiled. "Sure."

I tossed him my keys. "While you're at it, would you take Boomer for a walk? He probably needs to go."

I smiled and batted my eyelashes at him like a big fat fraud. Ted nodded, tucked Boomer under his arm and cast me a quizzical look before he left the room.

Once the door closed, I pulled out my phone, set the alarm for 6:00 a.m. and put it on vibrate
—
then stuck it under my pillow. Then I got under the blankets and turned off the lights.

When Ted returned to the room, I feigned sleep and tried to ignore the undressing sounds. The bed clothes rustled when he got into bed, and soon his soft snore confirmed he’d drifted off.

I hoped Ted was a sound sleeper because I had things to do the next morning and didn't want company.

Ted was a sound sleeper, and when my phone vibrated a few hours later, he didn't stir. Boomer wriggled up from under the covers and let out a little yap. I shushed him and rolled out of bed onto my knees. Still dressed, I was ready to make my escape. On tip-toes, I grabbed the duffel
—
tossed my shoes, bag, and Boomer into it and went to the door. The deadbolt doohickey made a clack when I lifted it, but Ted was dead to the world. I slipped out of the room and pulsed with the thrill of a successful escape.

I hopped-ran to the car, unlocked it and tossed in the duffel. Boomer didn't appreciate being air-born, and he attacked the duffel bag with a growl. Not yet sunrise, the misty drizzle hovered around my car like a ghostly guardian. With an eye on the motel room, I

switched on the engine. No lights came on and Ted didn't come to the door to look out. Slowly I cruised to the exit and pulled onto Venice Boulevard. Looking in the rearview mirror I said, "Later boyfriend."

I didn't figure Lily for an early riser, so we grabbed a breakfast sandwich and coffee for me and a kiddy meal for Boomer on the way. We ate while I drove because I had to be in and out before the sun came up and the mist burned off.

I cruised down Lily's street and passed her building. The Mini was still parked where Lily had left it the night before. Near the corner, I found a parking space and turned off the car. While I finished my coffee I used my mirrors to watch Lily's building. Slouched in my seat, I also scanned for any early birds out for a morning jog.

After I finished my coffee, I pulled up my hood, leashed Boomer, and got out of the car. Boomer was delighted to scout a new neighborhood and took his time sniffing. I paused when we arrived directly across the street from Lily's. Though it was tempting to stay glued to the spot and watch the building, I pulled Boomer along. We strolled the street as though part of the neighborhood — though no one was around to notice. We reached the corner, and a few steps more brought us to the mouth of the alley that ran behind Lily's building.

We hooked right into the alley and started toward Lily's. The first strains of daylight fought against the mist, and I got a better view than the previous night. The alley was a narrow concrete strip, jammed with dumpsters, trash cans, and the odd box of cast asides or rolled up carpet waiting for pick up. The posted signs declared the alley a no parking zone and the properties had fencing separating them from the alley. Mostly, old cedar planking, with an occasional chain link overgrown with vines.

No fencing safeguarded the rear of Lily's building, but a couple of ancient fence posts sticking out of the cracked concrete indicated that once upon a time, someone had cared enough to protect the property. From the alley, I looked up to Lily's balcony. The patio door was closed and the apartment dark. The morning sky had gone from pitch black to soggy gray and I couldn't stand out in the open much longer.

To my right stood a small storage shed where the building manager probably kept tools and maybe a little storage for the tenants. Probably spiders and rats too, but I went to the door and tried it anyway. Unlocked. I pushed the door open a few inches then ducked inside with Boomer.

The shed held yard tools, a couple of old toilets and a broken sink. Propped against the wall was a metal extension ladder
—
the type that painters used. I wondered if it could reach the second floor.

Boomer yapped and I jumped. I didn't hear anything but I was willing to take his word for it. "Time to split?" Boomer looked up and wagged his stub. I peeked around the door to ensure no one waited on the other side for us. All clear. "Okay puppy, be quiet."

During the few minutes inside the shed, the mist had disappeared, and the sun streaked light across the sky. It was time to scoot before somebody stepped out to their balcony and wondered who the weird chick with the dog was. Shooting a last look up to Lily's apartment, I veered right, into the alley. We fast-footed our way to the end and hooked right to get back to the car. Out of nowhere, a jogger zipped past us and I gasped.

The commuter hour had begun and a few cars roamed the streets. Without the cover of darkness and mist, I felt exposed and unsure. I could go back to the car, but people would notice a strange woman watching the neighborhood. They'd call the police. The

cops would run my plates. Daniels and Davis would show up and haul me back to jail. Not a good plan.

I needed to get into Lily's apartment, but standing on the corner in plain sight was not the place to come up with a strategy. At that moment, my only choice was to return to the motel room. I prayed Ted was still asleep. "Damn it."

From behind, a man grabbed me around the waist and pulled me close. "Are you lost little girl?"

After I caught my breath, I wriggled out of Ted's arms and shoved him. "Damn it, Ted! Stop sneaking up on me!"

He laughed and pointed a finger at me. "You can run, but you can't hide." I threw up my arms and started walking. He fell in behind me and dogged my steps. "Where are you going?"

I kept walking. "I don't know."

Ted caught up with me and steered me toward the SUV parked a few feet away. "Then let's talk in my office."

Fuming, I climbed in, and slammed the door. The second Ted's fanny hit the driver's seat I said, "What are you doing? Running a special ops on
me
?"

Ted pushed back my hood and tousled my hair. "It didn’t take a genius to figure out where you were."

I angled against the passenger door and glared at him. "Nothing has changed here. You can't stop me."

Ted rolled his eyes. "Okay, Captain Obvious, tell me something I don't know."

I reared my head back. "Now you're okay with it? I don't get you. What's changed?"

Ted leaned over and gazed at me for a few seconds as though he really liked what he saw. "I didn't force you to choose. I never said it was my way or else. That was your assumption."

My emotions dialed up. I'd accepted that it was over between us. But he was acting like it wasn't. "Then why did you let me walk away?"

He took my hand and held it tight. "You needed space and some time, so I backed off. I knew it wasn't over between us."

I smirked. "I didn't know that."

Ted kissed my hand and then placed it in my lap. "Sure you did. You just didn't have the nerve to stop when you drove by my place."

I flushed and my cheeks burned. "Maybe I was reminiscing."

Ted laughed. "And maybe you're full of shit."

I stared at him for a long while
—
feeling happy and anxious at once. He had no idea how stubborn I could be. With us there'd always be a push and pull. How much of that could he stand before he really walked away from me? "Maybe so, but I have things I need to do. Alone. And it's not up for discussion. You'd disapprove and I'd dig in, then we'd fight. Not because I'd want to fight with you, I don't. I want you to like me..."

He leaned in again. "I do like you. Very much."

Why did he have to smell so good? Gently, I pushed him away. "And because I want you to like me, I'll be tempted to give in. When it comes to men, I'm needy and pathetic. And I'm always attracted to men who are wrong for me." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Which makes me wonder what's wrong with you."

Ted's eyes crinkled when he smiled. "There's nothing wrong with me. Oh sure, I have a few quirks
—
I like to feed baby kittens to junkyard dogs, and pull the wings off butterflies, and play an occasional game of chicken with pedestrians..." He shrugged. "But everybody has hobbies, right?"

I punched him in the arm. "Very funny."

Ted leaned in and stroked my hair. "You don't seem needy to me."

"That's only because you don't know me very well yet. Give it time."

"Maybe I’m needy. Did you ever think of that?" he asked.

I scoffed. "You could have any woman you want. What does a guy like you want with a girl like me?"

Counting on his fingers, he said, "Gorgeous, smart, ballsy, makes the best soup on the planet?" He lowered his voice. "And oh so sexy. Who wouldn't want you?" He brushed his lips against mine. "We all meet nothing but wrong ones, until we meet the right one." He pulled me into his arms and held me. "Don’t you know that?"

I could've nestled in and stayed there forever, feeling his warmth and listening to the steady beat of his heart, but I pulled away. "Okay, ground rules. You don't try to stop me. You don't object even if you don't like it. Got it?"

Ted pursed his lips and scratched the stubble on his chin. "I reserve the right to object, but I’ll draw the line at tying you up and throwing you in the trunk." He winked. "I might insist on being your wing man, though."

My mouth hung open in surprise. "You? Mr. Boy Scout, wants to be my wing man?"

Ted snorted and laughed. "Boy Scout? Says who?" I was speechless. "What do you think special forces does, Scotti?"

The casual statement about his needs to know missions, on our dinner date came to mind. "Ohhhhh."

Ted cupped my chin. "It's okay, honey. You'll adjust to the idea that I'm not a choir boy."

But a passing car caught my attention and I slid down in my seat. "Son of a bitch, duck!"

Ted lay across the seat with his head on my breasts. "What is it?" he asked into one of my boobs.

I whispered, "Lily is right in front of us at the stop sign."

"Does she see us?"

"I don't know." I raised my head then pushed Ted off my chest and sat up. "Okay, she's gone."

Ted switched on the car. "Follow her?"

"Hell no! We need to get into that apartment before she gets back."

Ted's cell buzzed with a text. He read the text and responded, put the phone in his pocket and winked. "No hurry." He checked his mirrors, and squinted through the windshield. "Where's your car?"

I hooked my head left. "Back there a few feet. What do you mean, no hurry?"

"Let's rendezvous at the motel."

I gaped at him. "Are you nuts, we need to break into Lily's place before she gets back."

"Like I said, no hurry," and his eyes actually twinkled.

The more his eyes twinkled the more irritated I became. I gave him the hairy eyeball. "What makes you so sure of that?" I looked around the car. "And where is Boomer?"

Ted laughed. "Open your door."

"What?"

"Just open your door."

I opened my door and Boomer leapt into my lap, trembling like a sapling in a wind storm. "Oh poor Booms." I held him to my chest. "Mommy left you outside all alone? I'm sorry, baby." Boomer yapped, then leapt into Ted's lap and licked his face like it was a sirloin steak. Ted let Boomer have his way with him until he settled down on the console between us. "You didn't answer my question," I said. "And you've been doing a lot of that lately. Aren't you the one big on trust?"

Ted nodded at the open door. "All answers will be forthcoming, at the motel. See you there."

He started the engine and waited. When I closed the door, Ted pulled away from the curb, tapped his brakes at the stop sign, then drove off.

Fancy that
—
I was out of the loop in my own caper.

<<>>

Since Ted insisted that there was no hurry, on the way back to the motel, I stopped at a grocery store. Dog food and bowls for Boomer; a package of fried chicken and a bottle of soda for me. I wished the room had a kitchen so I could make a decent meal, but getting Lily was more important than good nutrition.

When I got back to the room, Ted was sprawled on his bed watching the mid-day news. He switched off the TV and swung his legs to the floor. "Oh good, you brought food." He snatched the chicken and soda out of my hands and took it to the table. "You read my mind."

I set out kibble and water for Boomer. He sniffed the air and looked at the table where the bag of chicken sat. Staring him down I said, "You're off people food
—
live with it." He turned up his nose, jumped on my bed and curled up for a snooze. When I pulled up a chair to the table, Ted had already set up lunch. "Sure, help yourself."

He snagged a drumstick and thigh and tore into the chicken. "Thanks!" I leaned back and watched Ted eat. He was unfazed by my scrutiny and cracked the lid on the soda bottle. He poised the bottle for pouring. "Want some?" I nodded. Ted poured each of us a glass of soda and went back to his chicken. "Aren't you going to have any? It's not bad for store bought."