Horse of a Different Killer (14 page)

“Where are we off to?” I asked.

He didn't answer, instead asking, “Do you mind if we take your car?”

“You want to go on a date in Bluebell?”

“If that's okay.”

“Sure.” I grabbed the keys and my purse off the foyer table and followed him out the door.

He stopped when we reached Bluebell and held out his hand.

“You want to drive, too?”

“If I may.”

My curiosity kicked into overdrive and I searched his face for some clue to what he had planned. The only thing I discovered was that it was difficult to stay focused on ferreting out the truth when distractions like the firm, yet somehow sensual shape of his lips kept snagging my attention.

With a mental head-shake, I handed him the keys, and he walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and helped me climb in.

Within a few minutes we'd made it onto Third Street and were headed north. I looked out at the familiar buildings, but quickly gave up trying to divine a destination.

“Give me a hint.”

“Okay,” he said. “I've got one coming up right now.”

He flipped on the blinker and pulled Bluebell into a narrow parking lot. I'd passed the place a hundred times, and didn't need to check the business's sign to know where we were.

“A car wash!” I said, clasping my hands over my heart with a mawkish gasp of delight. “Won't the other girls be jealous!”

“You asked for a hint,” he said, maneuvering toward the cavernous opening of the automated car wash. “Try out some of your investigation techniques on me.”

“Um . . .” I thought about it as Kai cranked down the window and paid the machine. He put Bluebell in neutral and we started forward on the conveyer belt.

“Is this some sort of Hawaiian courting ritual?”

“Nope.”

“You like playing antenna roulette?”

His forehead creased as he regarded me.

“You know,” I said, “car washes and antennae don't always mix.” I put my fists together and mimed breaking something in half.

“Shit.” He started to open the door but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

“Just kidding. Bluebell's antenna is built-in.”

He relaxed back in the seat and gave me a look of mild reproach.

“What?” I asked. “Misdirection is an investigation technique, right?”

Kai didn't answer but his lips curved in amusement.

We lurched farther into the car wash. Rotating strips of fabric slapped soapy water over Bluebell and were followed by the rhythmic spray of synchronized jets of water.

“You feel comforted by the womblike sounds?”

He barked out a laugh and gave me an amused look. “Womblike?”

“I'm reaching,” I told him. “The obvious answer is that you want Bluebell to be clean.”

“Correct.”

“But why?” We'd come to the end of the car wash and I had to raise my voice to be heard over the giant blow-dryers.

Still smiling, he shrugged without answering me and a minute later had pulled back onto the street.

Ten minutes after that, we turned off Third Street where it ended at Atlantic Boulevard.

The area had been spiffed up over the years, with planted palms, brick-paved walks, and quaint cafés. But as we drove away from the ocean, the palms became more sparse, and soon an overabundance of twenty-four-hour pharmacies and strip malls lined the street.

I'd never seen the large parking lot serving the strip malls more than half full, but tonight it was overflowing with every type of vintage and antique sport utility vehicle I could think of—and I could think of a lot.

“Is this a car show?”

“An impromptu one,” Kai said.

“A cruise. You brought me on a date to a car cruise?”

“Buddy of mine from work has his ear to the ground. I asked him to let me know the next time one was going down with the truck and SUV crowd.”

We rolled slowly past the vehicles. Chrome glinted, paint gleamed, the earth shook as one of the hot rods roared to life.

“Look! Do you know what that is?” I pointed at a blocky two-door. We parked and I hopped out of Bluebell to walk toward the smaller SUV.

“It's a Scout. My dad had one that looked just like this except ours was a weird avocado/army green color.” I peeked through the open window. “He taught me how to drive in one of these,” I said, grinning at the memories conjured by the sight of the spartan interior.

“This one's in great shape.”

“She's only had one owner,” a man said as he approached.

“I'm guessing that would be you,” I said.

“Yes ma'am. Bought her in 1968.”

“Straight-6 or V-8?”

He reached past me through the window and popped the hood. “Take a look.”

I admired the beautifully restored engine and was soon chatting easily about torque and towing. Suddenly, I realized Kai was probably bored out of his gourd, but when I glanced over at him, he was standing off to the side, watching me with a satisfied smile.

Giving him a quick grin in return, I turned my attention back to answer a question the man with the Scout had asked about Bluebell.

We traded stats and stories for a few more minutes, then parted ways.

Someone had cranked their radio and oldies music drifted on the breeze. Kai laced his fingers through mine as we moved on to admire other vehicles. The feel of his calloused hand sent a buzz of electricity up my arm, making my whole right side feel warm and fuzzy.

“Thanks for this,” I said, glancing up at him. “And thanks for making sure Bluebell was presentable.”

“I didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friends.”

That was when it happened.

There are moments in life when a little part of yourself breaks away from the whole to float over and settle into someone else's care.

I felt it—subtle though it may have been. Like the shift of a pebble on a slope. It might seem insignificant, but in reality it's those pebbles that precede the avalanche.

The thought brought on a sudden wave of panic and made me freeze midstep.

“You okay?” Kai tightened his grip on my hand, probably thinking I'd stepped in a pothole. Nope, just freaking out over the realization I was falling for him.

Deep breaths.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “I just haven't eaten much today—I'm starved.”

“Want to go to Culhane's?”

“Sounds great.”

The popular Irish pub was comfortably crowded inside. The music and conversations, though loud and lively, somehow managed to stop just shy of raucous.

Despite the crowd, we didn't have to wait long for a table or our food. Kai ordered a Guinness and the fish and chips and I went with a Smithwick's and Kaye's Pasta Mac, which promised to be baked to perfection.

“Are you sure you're okay? You seem distracted.”

“I'm sorry, it's just . . .” That I'm having emotional palpitations over the idea of falling in love. “Worried about Heart.”

“Haven't made much progress?”

“Not as much as I'd like,” I said and attempted to shift my attention to my search for the missing horse. “I tried to talk to the owner of the boarding stable today. Well, I
did
talk to him but he didn't want to talk back. And one of his employees, Boomer, thought I was making accusations rather than just asking questions. It's like I have a talent for rubbing people the wrong way.”

“You don't rub me the wrong way.” The way he said it made my heart speed up. I wasn't sure how much of my reaction was due to pleasure and how much was panic. I envisioned a skier vainly trying to outrun the slope as it collapsed behind him.

I took a sip of beer in an attempt to mask my sudden, inner turmoil and I told myself not to draw parallels between my relationship with Kai and natural disasters.

“I certainly managed to ruffle Detective Boyle's feathers.” As soon as I said the words I regretted them. What would possess me to bring Boyle into the conversation?

“Grace—”

I held up a hand and said, “Sorry, I forgot. It's Tammy, right?” The comment came out a bit more caustic than I'd intended.

Kai leaned back to regard me with narrowed eyes.

“Are you trying to prove that you
can
rub me the wrong way, or just using sarcasm as a smoke screen?”

I shrugged. “I'm also adept at jumping to the wrong conclusion and the silent treatment.”

“Wow,” he said in an unenthusiastic monotone. “The total package.”

“Now look who's being sarcastic.”

“You shouldn't dish out what you can't take.”

I batted my eyelashes at him and, in a breathy drawl, said, “Why, Mr. Duncan, are you flirtin' with me?”

“Yes.”

That shut me up.

“What's going on with you, Grace?”

What could I say?
I'm too immature to process grown-up feelings so I'm acting like a ten-year-old?

“I'm sorry. Can we go back to when I was rubbing
other
people the wrong way?”

He held my gaze, letting the seconds creep past before finally saying, “Lucky for you, I have a weakness for petite brunettes with ESP.”

“Hey! I'm almost five foot three—that's solidly average.”

“Five foot three, huh?”

I sat up a little straighter and said, “Let's get back to the folks at R-n-R.” I could understand Boomer's reaction to my questions, but I'd worded them more carefully with Mr. Parnell.

When I told Kai this, he said, “Usually, if someone acts guilty it's because they are.”

“You think Parnell could be involved in Heart's disappearance?”

“I didn't say that. He might have simply been too busy to talk or, as we've discussed, been rubbed the wrong way.”

He smiled as he said it, so I wasn't really worried he'd hold my earlier lapse into snarky sarcasm—snarcasm?—against me.

“Still, it's worth looking into,” he said. “I can check the place out, off the record.”

Kai knew how I felt about him digging on my behalf. Before I could protest the idea, he asked, “What do the animals think of him?”

“I haven't asked.” Knowing Kai would press me for clarification, I continued, “I don't always get a reliable answer.”

“Why not?”

“Asking an animal's opinion on a human is tricky. Not only is the answer subjective, just as it is with other people, but it can be very skewed.”

“Give me an example.”

“Take Dusty,” I said, talking about Kai's sweet, independent cat. “He loves you. He thinks you are the greatest guy in the world.”

“You saying I'm not?”

“That was a bad example,” I admitted. “But let's go with it for a minute and suppose you weren't really such a great guy. Not in an overt way. Animals tend to pick up on people who are totally psycho. But let's say you were a bank robber or had a gambling problem or something.”

“As long as I keep giving him tuna,” Kai said, “he'll tell everyone I'm awesome.”

“Right. The opposite can be true, too. I've met animals who disliked people because of the way they spoke or laughed.”

“Makes sense.”

“I've gotten better at asking for specifics, but even then, I end up with less-than-useful information. Details about how a person sleeps, or how comfortable their lap is, that sort of thing.”

“You're right, that's not very helpful. I'll see what I can find out about R-n-R and Parnell and let you know.”

I nodded. If he didn't think it would be an issue with work, I wouldn't protest.

We finished up and headed outside into the balmy evening, then wandered toward Bluebell.

Many of the cruisers had closed their hoods and headed off. The vacant spots had been filled by the folding chairs of those who decided to stay awhile.

We reached Bluebell and I asked, “So, any more surprises tonight?”

“I don't know.” He inserted the key into the passenger-door lock and paused to look down at me. “What did you have in mind?”

His pupils had dilated the way a cat's do when it's ready to pounce. Awareness flooded over me in a hot wave. Absurdly, a line from
Top Gun
popped into my head:
Take me to bed or lose me forever
. I didn't say it out loud, but that didn't seem to matter.

Kai leaned close to murmur something in my ear just as a nearby engine growled to life.

Startled, I glanced toward the sound. That was when I saw it.

The sedan.

It drifted along Atlantic Boulevard like a shark coasting on a current searching for prey. Whatever Kai had started to say was lost. I straightened and stepped to the side.

“That's it.” I pointed. “That's the car that was following me.”

Kai's head snapped around and a heartbeat later, he was sprinting toward the street.

I rushed after him. The sedan didn't gun its engine and roar away with squealing tires; it just sailed past and melted into the flow of traffic. Before Kai reached the sidewalk, it was gone.

He was still starring after it when I reached his side. Suddenly, I felt foolish.

Maybe it hadn't been the same car after all.

Kai had already pressed his phone to his ear when I turned to tell him so. Even with the music and street noise I could hear him giving the license plate number to someone.

He finished the call and looked at me.

“What is it?”

“I don't know, maybe I was wrong.” I didn't want him to get into trouble, especially if I was just being paranoid.

“What makes you say that?”

“If it'd been the same car, wouldn't whoever's driving have sped off when we spotted them?”

Frowning, Kai looked back to where the car had disappeared from view. “Not necessarily.” He turned back to me and said, “Come on, we'll talk in your car.”

Once we'd settled into Bluebell, he asked, “What was it about the car that made you think it was the one following you earlier? Don't think about it, just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”