Dashing Through the Snow (15 page)

Mrs. Popkin giggled, her brown skin blushing
as brightly as a schoolgirl’s when Smith took her hand and kissed
it. Arms folded, Lily had to fight to suppress her disgust.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cameron, but it was
nothing. I simply opened the door.”

Nevertheless, she offered Smith her other
hand and he obligingly bent over to kiss it, making Lily grit her
teeth to hold back a snort.

“It has been a real pleasure, Mz. Popkin,”
Smith said before kissing her hand.

Mrs. Popkin was pressing her free hand to her
chest, while she gushed. “Why, thank you, and that’s Mrs. Popkin,
I’m afraid.”

“If you take her meaning,” Lily said
dryly.

Smith straightened and looked at Lily. His
wide smile turned speculative and then smug as he studied her. Lily
stared back at him, her eyebrow lifted in challenge. “I want to
thank you again, Mrs. Popkin,” Smith said, his gaze lingering on
Lily for a long moment before he gave the proprietor his attention,
“for allowing me to take your manager away from his duties for so
long.”

Lily turned away, feeling like she could
breathe again once he’d stopped looking at her. The intensity of
his gaze had almost knocked her back a step. Grateful to have the
few moments while he and Mrs. Popkin conversed, she took a few deep
breaths in an effort to compose herself.

“Ms. Carstairs?”

Lily turned back at Mrs. Popkin’s call.
“Yes?”

“Mr. Cameron was just telling me that you two
know one another.”

Lily cut her eyes at Smith inquiringly before
answering. “Yes, we’re acquainted.”

“Well, then, would it be all right if he told
you everything Kip told him, or would you like to speak to Kip
yourself? I ask because the shop could get busy at any time, and
I’ll need Kip out here with me.”

Lily looked at Smith again, wondering what
was going on. He only stood there smiling -- too enigmatically, in
her opinion. She glared briefly at him before giving her attention
back to Mrs. Popkin. “I’d feel more comfortable talking to Kip
myself if you wouldn’t mind. And then afterward, I wonder if you’d
be available for a short consultation on cigars? I’d like to buy
some for one of my uncles.” Smith’s silent amusement at her attempt
at bribery was so blatant that Lily gritted her teeth.

“And I have to be goin’ anyway, Mrs. Popkin.
I’m afraid I don’t have time at just this moment for a long consult
with the lovely Ms. Carstairs.” He tipped his hat. “Thank you
again, Mrs. Popkin. Ms. Lily?”

Lily had turned away to go into the office,
but now she turned back to look at him. His grin was far too smug
for her peace of mind and she glared at him. “Yes?”

“Might I have just a minute? I won’t keep you
long. It’s just a little shop talk.”

Her curiosity caught, Lily excused herself to
Mrs. Popkin and followed Smith outside. “What is it Smith --
hey!”

He’d snagged her elbow and was dragging her
away from the shop. When he finally stopped, she snatched her arm
away from him and rubbed at it. “Watch the material --” She found
herself pulled flush against his body with his lips pressed to
hers. Lily kissed him back despite herself. She raised her gloved
hands to his face and accepted his tongue, pulling it deep into the
caverns of her mouth.

Her coat had lifted and Smith took advantage
of the fact, slipping his hands underneath to grip and caress her
behind. Lily helplessly pressed back into the caress a few times
before breaking away from the kiss. She looked into his eyes as she
smoothed a thumb across his lips to get rid of some smudged
lipstick. “What was that for?” she asked between the slow kisses he
was pressing to her mouth.

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist sweetness. You
just look so fetching today in your red coat and with your hair
caught up in that thing-a-ma-jig…” He raised a hand in the air and
reached over her head to wiggle his fingers around the top of her
head.

She bent her head back to look at his
wiggling fingers. “A bun. It’s called a bun,” she told him.

“Yeah, I’m just itching to take all that hair
down and muss you up a bit – but I won’t,” he quickly assured her
with a chuckle and tightened his arms around her when she got a
cautious look in her eyes and pushed against him. “I’m just telling
you what’s turning me on about you today. Now let’s get back to
that, shall we? I really want to.”

He seemed perfectly serious and so intent
that Lily felt unaccountably shy and smiling, dipped her head.

“Thank you. Now where was I? Oh yes, your
hair. This hair lying here on your forehead?” he said as he rubbed
some of it between two fingers.

He paused and looked expectantly at her and
Lily found herself giggling before nodding again.

“It’s looking all soft and feminine and it
makes me want to do things to you that could get us both in serious
trouble.”

She smiled again and wrapped her arms around
his neck. “Yeah? So you like my bangs that much, huh?”

“Oh yeah. They inspire me to do all kinds of
naughty things,” he said as he pressed his fingers into her behind
again.

Lily’s smile disappeared and she leaned back
into his caresses for a second time. She sighed and stepped out of
his arms. “As much as I’m enjoying this -- and sometime soon, I
want you to tell me
why
you’re suddenly interested in doing
this -- I’ve got to get back to The Tobacconist and Kip,” she said
as she adjusted her purse so it hung more securely from her
shoulder.

“Yes, I guess you’d better. But I want you to
promise me that you’ll be careful, Lily.”

His sudden serious tone had her studying him
again. “I’m always careful, but what aren’t you telling me? What
did you find out?”

“It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but
something about this case is off, and I don’t like it. For
starters, why does she have two of us working it? That just isn’t
normal.”

Lily shrugged. “I think she just really wants
her husband found.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, even more
than usual, all right?”

Again, his tone had her considering him.
“Sure, I promise, but I’ve got to get back.”

Smith watched her walk away, and couldn’t
help but admire her sense of style. She was dressed like a fashion
model in her fancy coat and slim, black suit pants and high heels.
He shook his head, thinking that made her even more unsuitable for
the job. Her clothes made her too unforgettable. Though, he didn’t
think she could be forgettable even if she didn’t dress less like a
fashion plate. He shook his head. Regardless of her wardrobe, he
had a bad feeling about the case – had had it all day, but what
he’d learned from Kip had cemented it.

That was the reason he’d pulled Mrs. Popkin
aside and asked her to try to discourage Lily from talking to Kip.
His plan had been to feed Lily some of what he’d learned from Kip,
not all. It hadn’t worked and he wasn’t surprised. She was smart
and was making all the right moves in her investigation so far. His
smirk was self-directed. She was a step behind him, but he thought
if she kept going the way she was, she might just catch up to him
soon.

Chapter Thirteen

Cheeks flushed from more than the cold, Lily
rushed back into the cigar shop. During her brief absence two
people had entered the store. Mrs. Popkin was standing in front of
a humidor, explaining why it would behoove her potential customers
to purchase some outrageously expensive brand of cigar. Before Lily
could approach the group to interrupt, Mrs. Popkin looked up and
angled her head toward the counter area and office door. Lily
assumed that meant that she should just go in.

Instead of walking behind the counter, she
walked to the side of the counter that the office was on, reached
over and knocked on the door.

A huge man in width and height with a neat,
graying afro opened the door. “Why, Kip Beech!” Lily said in
surprise to a high school classmate of one of her cousins who was
five years older than she. Known as the gentle giant when they were
younger, he was a talented singer and pianist, and it was thought
that he’d make it big as a solo artist after going off to
Juilliard, but it hadn’t happened. He’d come back home six months
later after having suffered a breakdown from the pressure. As far
as she knew, he still didn’t play the piano. “It should have
occurred to me that the Kip Mrs. Popkin was referring to would be
you!”

“Hi, Lily.” Kip smiled shyly at her. “How are
you, girl?” He stepped closer to the counter and reached over it to
give her a hug.

“I’m fine, Kip, just fine. How are you?”

“Oh, I can’t complain, can’t complain at
all.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you mind if I join
you back there to talk about Charles Landry? I understand he was
here last Friday.”

“Sure, sure. I’ve been expecting you,” he
said as he pushed the half-door outward for her to enter. “I must
say that I was surprised to hear that you’re now a private
detective.”

Lily followed him into the office and took
off her coat. After he’d hung it on a hook behind the door and they
were sitting on opposite ends of a brown, leather sofa with a
cigar-shaped back, she gave him a look of chagrin. “Let me guess.
You heard it through the grapevine, right? My aunt to your mother
to your father to you. Am I close?”

He grinned. “Close enough.”

“How long have you been managing this place,
Kip?”

“Oh, I’ve been here since she started the
place, but I was manager for her grandfather for four years before
that. I finished the business program over at the community college
and started working for Mrs. Popkin’s grandfather right after. I’ve
been here ever since.”

Lily frowned, trying to remember if she ever
knew any of what he’d just said. She remembered hearing about his
breakdown, but she’d only been about twelve at the time, so
everything was a bit vague. She was sure she hadn’t paid much
attention to anything that didn’t have to do with her and her
little world of friends back then. “Really?” she said now. “I don’t
think I knew that.”

Another shy smile as he adjusted his long
legs. “No reason you should. You’ve been gone and we’re not of the
same age, but I love this place. I met my wife here, in fact.”

Lily smiled with pleasure, feeling genuine
happiness for him. She’d always liked him. Of all of her cousins’
friends, he’d been the kindest. She remembered thinking that with
his gentle bearing and artsy nature that he didn’t belong with
them, a group of typical rough and tumble boys. He’d always dressed
well, too. Even now she admired his gray cashmere sweater and black
slacks. “That’s right. I heard you’d gotten married a couple of
years ago. Congratulations! She’s from out of town, correct?”

He nodded. “She’s from Michigan, but she’s
settled in pretty well here, and thank you. However, you didn’t
come here to talk about me. Tell me what you need.”

“All right, let’s get started then. I’m going
to record this, okay?” He nodded and she turned on her recorder and
continued, “How often did you see Mr. Landry?”

“No more than once every few weeks -- for
business, that is. Sometimes I might happen upon him on the
Square.”

“Just hanging out?”

He shook his head and Lily was surprised when
he released a light mocking chuckle. “No, no. Mr. Landry is not the
type to just hang out,” he said, putting air quotes around the last
two words. “He’d sometimes visit the chocolate shop, or the
pharmacy, and a couple of times he was at the well taking photos.
Once, he even told me he was going to the funicular, and I remember
thinking that it was an odd choice because he doesn’t seem like the
type.”

“Was he alone?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t think you’d ever catch Mrs.
Landry riding it.”

“So you’ve met her, then?”

“Twice, no...three times. Twice they were
coming from the pharmacy and another time they were on their way to
dinner. I don’t know her well, or him either for that matter. Our
relationship really is just one of customer to provider.”

Lily’s pen paused over her pad. That was the
second time she’d heard a relationship with Mr. Landry described in
that way. “So you and Mr. Landry never talked about anything of a
personal nature?”

“No, not really, only polite, surface
conversation -- the weather, weekend or holiday plans, things like
that. And of course, we talked about cigars.”

“So did he talk to you about his plans for
Christmas by any chance?”

“Yes, and that was the last time I saw him.
He’d purchased Camacho Triple Maduro six by sixty, a whole three
dozen, and then he talked about how much he was going to enjoy his
Christmas vacation this year. He said it would be in Chicago, no
sorry, “sweet home Chicago” is what he said. I remember because he
sang the last three words as if he were singing the song.”

“Was that unusual for him? That little
embellishment?”

“Yes, it was. He’d never done it before. I
mean, he’s a friendly man, but rather self-contained. I was
surprised by the singing, but just thought he was excited about the
holiday being so near and about going back to the city for a
while.”

“And the cigars?” Lily asked. “I noticed your
emphasis on the number he purchased. Was that unusual for him as
well?”

“Oh, yes, it was and it was a more expensive
brand than his usual. The Camacho Triple Maduro six by sixty is
fifteen dollars per cigar. Mr. Landry usually purchases the Camacho
Corojo at about four dollars per cigar. But again, I just chalked
it up to the Christmas holidays. I figured he’d be giving them to
friends.”

Lily’s brow was lifted. Four dollars or
fifteen, in her mind either price was ridiculous. “Has he done that
before? Purchased an expensive cigar in that quantity around
Christmas?”

“No, never – at least not from here.”