Dirty (33 page)

Mother laughed.
 
“Oh, we’ve already done the vibrator workshop.
 
It’s amazing what’s on the market these days.
 
I bought myself a silver bullet.
 
You can use it anywhere.
 
Even in line at Starbucks.”

Too much information.
 
The visuals inserting into my thoughts as she spoke were too, too much.
 
“Mom, you don’t even have a husband.”
 
Hell, I thought she professed to be closed down for business.
 
“Why do you need to know how to give a blow job?”
 
Her comment about Blanche popped back into my head, kind of annoyed me.
 
“And since when did you start caring what people like Blanche have to say?”

“Just because I’m alone right now, Jackie, doesn’t mean I will be forever.
 
Who knows?
 
I may meet someone tomorrow and I want to be able to please him.
 
Oral sex is the hottest thing going.
 
I expect you know that.”
 
She harrumphed.
 
“And screw Blanche.
 
I can give head as good as she can any day.
 
So what if my dentures leave teeth marks.”

Oh, Jesus.
 
“I...agree,” I stammered, “and I really want you to be happy.
 
Blow jobs are...great.
 
And age is irrelevant, right?”
 
I rolled my eyes. When did I start reciting Dawson?

“Getting back to your case, Jackie.
 
I want you to be careful.
 
Hobbs says you’ve cooked up some kind of crazy scheme to extract information.”

He was definitely dead.
 
My only question before I killed him would be which of my three so called friends had leaked the latest information.
 
The call had to have been made no sooner than they left my door for it to trickle down to my mother this fast.
 
“I know what I’m doing, Mom.”

“Well, if there’s no changing your mind,” she said, “at least take my advice on how to handle the situation.”

“Mother, I–”

“Just listen to me, Jackie.
 
You’re a woman.
 
The best route to take when excavating information from a man, I’m assuming it’s a man, is the seduction express.”

“Thanks, Mom, I’ll remember that.”
 
Shari had to be the one.
 
She’d gotten that tip from Hobbs about the cemetery incident, she probably owed him.

“I mean it, Jackie,” Mother reiterated.
 
“Seduction is the best way.
 
But remember, don’t go for the goal until his trousers are all the way off.”

“Excuse me?”
 
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from my mother.
 
Then again, I don’t know why I was surprised.

“It’s a scientific fact,” she added with supreme confidence in her statement, “that a man can’t think clearly once he’s naked from the waist down.”

Now there was a handy piece of information to have.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I climbed out of my Jeep early on Sunday morning and considered that, despite being the proverbial day of rest, today was as good a day as any to get this done.

Solving this case couldn’t be put off, murder sure as hell wouldn’t be.

I’d called Hobbs and my uncle and warned them that today would be a regular workday, neither had complained.
 
Hobbs had obviously contacted Dawson since his truck hadn’t been outside when I left home this morning.
 
I’d touched base with Nance, gag, and he’d sworn that they had nothing else on the murder vics, Sanchez and the woman who was yet to be identified, or the perps from the cemetery incident.

No offense to Nance, but I didn’t trust him, so I put in a call to Cates for confirmation.
 
Cates, in the middle of getting dressed for church like all good Christians on Sunday morning (decades of engrained teaching made me feel guilty even as the Chief and I talked), had confirmed what I’d learned from Nance.

Mary Jane had called in with word that my uncle had stayed put at his place all night.
 
Donna had taken over tailing him this morning.

Dawson would likely have been better at that job than my gal pals, but I couldn’t share with him my misgivings about my uncle the way I could with the girls.

I could feel the situation around me evolving even now.
 
Cop instinct, Hank would call it.
 
The two murders and the goons at the cemetery were for show.
 
As was the snake and the rock.
 
Someone wanted to scare me off.
 
As arrogant as it sounded to assume anyone would go to that extent to get me off a case, I feared I was all too right on that score.

My hand on the rear entrance to my building, I hesitated before going inside.
 
If that were the case, why bother with killing innocent victims.
 
Why not just go for me?

I shook off the thought and entered my agency.
 
I was alive and as long as I was I planned to unravel this mystery.

The moment I stepped inside I recognized the classic 80’s collection playing.
 
Alita must have decided to clean today to get ahead on next week’s work.
 
Anytime she did so on the weekend she played music loud enough to put the whole building in the right mood.
 
Hobbs kept an extensive collection of CDs around the office, mainly for her benefit.
 
The guy was every bit the sucker I was, no matter how he wanted to deny it.

I smiled at Emilio.
 
He looked up from his Legos long enough to flash a wide grin.
 
Hobbs rolled his eyes and nodded toward the kid as if he didn’t care for the nuisance.
 
Yeah, right.

Alita popped up from behind my desk when I entered my office.
 
“Morning, Miss Jackie!”

“That’s got it, Alita.”
 
Dawson popped up next.

What the...?

Dawson flaunted that killer smile.
 
“She couldn’t get your phone line plugged back in,” he explained to me before turning that high voltage charmer in Alita’s direction.
 
“No harm done.”

“
Gracias, senor
,” she beamed.
 
“I bump it vacuuming,” she said to me.

I managed to point the corners of my mouth upward for her benefit.
 
If I hadn’t known better I would have sworn I’d just suffered a twinge of jealousy.
 
Impossible.

Dawson stood, then helped the petite woman to her feet.
 
She thanked him and scurried out of my office still beaming.

Scary.
 
No man should possess that kind of power.

I sat my Birkin on my desk and leaned sideways so I could see Hobbs through the open door.
 
“Find out what time Hank is planning to get here.”

“Already did,” Hobbs shouted back over the sound of Alita’s music.
 
“He’ll be here at ten.”

I glanced at the clock.
 
Nine thirty now.
 
It was amazing how Hobbs could anticipate my needs, but it bugged the hell out of me at times.
 
Kind of like Radar on the old
Mash
series.

“Anything for me?”

I jumped, caught my breath.
 
I hadn’t realized that Dawson still loitered in my office.
 
Man, that was hard to believe.
 
His scent had invaded my nostrils the moment I walked in.
 
This, unfortunately, was a compliment.
 
The man had the most appealing smell.
 
Not even for a date with Johnny Depp or Robert Downey Junior would I ask Dawson what he wore.
 
Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’d noticed.
 
But what really got to me was how he could look so damned hot after sleeping in his truck in front of my house.
 
It just wasn’t fair.

“When Hank gets here we’ll talk.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up between now and then.”

I held up a hand to stall him when he would have walked out.
 
“Just wait until after the meeting.”

Dawson nodded despite the confusion I saw in his eyes.
 
A muscle jerked in his lean cheek, revealing just how much he didn’t understand and/or like that order.

The next half hour dragged by.
 
I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas.
 
Too bad the only presents I’d gotten lately were prizes for my bizarre sexcapades.
 
I had accomplished one thing.
 
I’d put in a call to Max (he apparently didn’t go to church either) and asked for his help on the get-back-at-Nance plan that had occurred to me during the night.
 
At least my tossing and turning hadn’t been for naught.
 
I’d also touched base with Steven and Mom, as per proper southern Sunday etiquette.

I chucked the report I’d been reading and puffed out a breath of frustration.
 
Speaking of kids.
 
Since I hadn’t allowed Dawson to do any work he’d spent the last thirty minutes playing with Emilio.
 
I loved the little boy but I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing how good Dawson was with kids.
 
Did the man have no imperfections?

At ten on the dot Hank arrived.
 
“Are we having a meeting or what?” he asked as he strode into my office.
 
He glanced over his shoulder at Dawson who’d just risen from Lego land.

“Bout time,” I said to Hank.

He raised an eyebrow at me.
 
“Some of us take confession seriously.”

Oh damn.
 
There it was.
 
I hadn’t gone to church in months.
 
I was going straight to hell.
 
The only confession I’d done lately was with the girls and while under the influence of alcohol.
 
I felt certain Father Frances, the same priest who’d christened me, would know exactly how I could make up for it.
 
As long as it didn’t include donating my Birkin I might live through it.

I gifted my uncle with a look that was less than pleasant and retorted, “
Some of us
have more to confess than others.”

Dawson came in then, preventing that particular tension from escalating.
 
He and Hank parked in the chairs in front of my desk without bothering to speak to each other.
 
Neither would like my plan, but I’d made up my mind.

“We need to force Brooks to act,” I announced, “so I’m going after Willis.”
 
I heard Hobbs’ fatal-sounding gasp all the way from his desk in reception. (Remember he’s got BESP.)

“We can do this another way,” Hank interjected.
 
“I’ve—”

I held up both hands.
 
“No.
 
We can’t.
 
If Brooks is our man we have to be able to prove it.
 
Since we have no evidence, our only avenue is to make him feel desperate enough to do something stupid.”

“I’ve touched base with some of my old contacts,” Hank persisted.
 
“Cates can help—”

“Hank,” I cut him off, “listen to me.
 
I know you think there’s a better way, but you’re wrong.
 
Brooks is too slippery.
 
You and your contacts didn’t get him last time.”

The truth hurt, but he needed to understand that I had my own strategy here.
 
Judging by his stubborn posture that wasn’t going to happen.
 
Well, I could be just as stubborn, after all, we shared the same DNA.

“What’s your plan?”

My gaze shifted to Dawson.
 
I couldn’t be sure if he really believed in me or if he only wanted to show up my uncle by pursuing my approach.

“If Willis knows anything, I’ll get it out of him.
 
But more importantly, I want him to think we know something,” I said bluntly.
 
“I have a strategy.”

“Does your strategy involve fucking him?”

Before I had a chance to even get pissed off my uncle had grabbed Dawson by the shirt and hauled him out of his chair.
 
“Listen, you little son of a bitch,” he threatened.
 
“I was kicking ass before you were a gleam in your daddy’s eye.
 
You watch your mouth or you’ll end up with my fist in it.”

Morbid fascination held me mute as well as immobile.
 
The color of fury had overtaken my uncle’s face, while Dawson appeared unfazed.
 
But I knew that wasn’t the case.
 
His fists were clenched at his sides and that little tic was going a hundred miles an hour in his tense jaw.

“Hank,” I said when the two remained locked for combat beyond a reasonable length of time and when I’d found my voice once more.

He released Dawson.
 
Actually it was more of a shove than a release, but Dawson managed to stay on his feet.

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed at Dawson’s restraint or to steel myself for the coming storm considering his asking-for-trouble attitude.

When the full attention of both men rested on me once more, I said, “We’ll do this my way, end of subject.”

Hank shook his head, his fury still making his neck red.
 
“Your daddy would have my hide—”

“Don’t even go there,” I warned.

He exhaled loudly, disgustedly.
 
“Just tell me what it is you want me to do.”