Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie (22 page)

Chapter 21

D
ear
D
iary:

Tony Carrillo sits next to
me during Music, and sometimes he smiles at me, but h
e rarely talks to me.
W
ell today
h
e ran up and kissed me on my c
heek and th
en ran away so fast it’s like
h
e was
h
it by li
g
htnin
g
. Jessica and Ashley
s
aid it was because
h
e likes me, and t
h
at made me feel wonderful.
B
ut t
h
en
I
saw Tony talking to some boys and they were lau
g
hin
g
and pointing at me.
I
figured he only kissed me because it was a dare or something horrible like that.
I
know it’s because I’m u
g
ly! My nose is too bi
g
and my freckles are horrible, and I’m
jus
t
u
g
ly!
N
obody will ever want to kiss me for real!

Evangeline—ag
e
12

M
ax
and Evie had read the fifth clue a dozen times, and it still didn’t make sense.

He hated love stories. Love stories were for dames. His tastes ran to hard-hitting crime dramas and books about how real men won the West. The kinds of stories where
a
fella packed heat and a gal knew her place. But for purity’s sake, for the essence of all things right and true, hell, nothing beat a good encyclopedia.

T.
E. Heyworth, 1960

Door-to-Door Death

Max shook his head as he stuffed the envelope into his shirt pocket. This one was going to take a bit of work.

Glancing at Evie, he decided maybe she needed a bit of a break. Seeing the old house she’d lived in with her mother had hurt her, brought back a bunch of memories he was sure she’d rather have forgotten. She was quiet now, her eyes sad, maybe even a little damp.

Pulling into a gas station, he said, “You want to use the rest room before we head back?”

Without saying anything, she nodded and got out of the car.

As he waited for her, he rolled the window down. The rain had petered out and the clouds looked like broken slabs of slate tossed in heaps across the sky. Boats anchored in the marina next to the shipyard tipped and rocked, their flags snapping in the salty breeze like bits of bright confetti against the bleak horizon.

Flipping open his cell phone, he punched in his partner’s number.

“Yeah, Darling here.”

“You’re slipping,” Max
said. “That didn’t even rhyme.”

“Listen, Galloway, I could out
-
rhyme you with half my brain tied behind my back.”

“Doesn’t leave you much to work with, does it?” He glanced in the sideview mirror. Still no sign of Evie. “Where are you?”

At the other end of the connection, Nate crunched down on something. “We’re at a coffee shop in Silverdale. Lorna’s getting a newspaper, then we’re heading back to Port Henry.”

“You talked to McKennitt today?”

Another crunch, then munch, munch, munch. “Yeah,” Nate finally said. “The transmission wasn’t very clear, though. He was at the hospital because his wife’s having trouble with some guy named Braxton Hicks and—”

Max burst out laughing and slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

At the other end of the line, there was silence. Then, “Okay. I give.”

“Braxton Hicks isn’t a person,” Max scoffed. “It’s Braxton hyphen Hicks. They’re contractions women get in the third trimester of pregnancy. False labor. At least, that’s
what I read in a pamphlet once.
”

“You can read?”

“Always the comedian. What’s your last clue say?”

Max heard the crackle of paper as Nate unfolded his clue. As he read it, Max kept a lookout for Evie’s return.

Nate made another crunching sound, then a slurping sound, then the paper crinkled again. “We don’t know what it means,” he said, his mouth obviously stuffed with something. “We’re hoping to take a look at the novel back at the house and see what we can come up with. I talked to Edmunds about an hour ago. They’re on their fifth clue, too, and should be back the same time we are.”

“Where are they now?”

“
Gig Harbor.
”

“How’s Madame holding out? She had any more visions?”

Nate chuckled, then slurped. “Only of sugarplums. Edmunds said the woman has hit every pastry shop from Seattle to the Canadian border.”

Max rubbed his jaw with his knuckles. “I’ve got to hand it to Heyworth. He sure knew how to throw a treasure hunt. This might even have been fun, if it hadn’t morphed into a search for a killer.” Leaning back in his seat, he said, “You still got the Whitney woman convinced you’re Dabney James?”

“Into the fray we track our prey, yet take time to play along the way, and munch buffet at the cafe which is not
passé
but quite
risqué
, I hear you say—”

“Stop!” Max ordered. “Jesus Christ, Darling. You’re like a dog with a bone. A
stupid
dog with a bone. So she hasn’t got any idea what happened to the real James?”

“As far as I know, everybody thinks James is still alive, even the killer.”

“So our suspect never met James. It’s like we thought, he hired it done.”

“Sam Ziwicki.”

“The
late
Sam Ziwicki. So, unless our guy has more than one hit man in his employ, he’ll have to do his own dirty work from now on.”

Nate cleared his throat. Under his breath he said, “Here comes Lorn
a.” At the mention of the secre
tary’s name, his tone had changed.

Max settled the phone against his ear. “So, how are you two getting along?”

“Hunky-dory,” Nate said in a way that declared,
Let’s just leave it at that.
As Max listened, Nate greeted Lorna with a soft hello. She said something Max couldn’t quite make out, to which Nate replied, “Oh, it’s just my, uh, decorator. Always trying to furnish me with something I don’t have.”

“Like a personality,” Max muttered.

“Say, Bruce, I’ve written a new poem.”

“Christ, shoot me now.”

“What’s that? You’d like to hear it?”

In the background, Lorna said something and clapped her hands t
ogether enthusiastically. “Good
bye,” Max said.

“It’s something a bit unusual for me,” Nate persisted. “It’s about a detective of my acquaintance.”

“I’m warning you, Darling.”

“Max Galloway, Max Galloway. Your sour face is here to stay. While your dour disposition is such an imposition, and it seems this is related, that you’re sexually frustrated, methinks you’re such an angry pup, because you cannot get it—”

“Up until now,” Max interrupted, “I thought you were pretty funny.”

“Thanks, Bruce. Your good opinion means so much to me.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see you, either. Good-bye,
Darling.”

As Max shoved the cell phone back inside his pocket, the passenger door opened and Evie slid in. Without a word, she fastened her seat belt, then turned away from him to study the distant clouds.

He didn’t understand a whole lot about women, but he could generally sense when something was wrong. Her cheeks were pale, her body posture stiff. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she pressed her knees tightly together and continued ignoring him. He’d taken Closed Body Positions 101; she was showing all the classic signs.

Obviously, the visit to her childhood home had depressed her more than he’d thought. Reaching across the seat, he touched her shoulder. She recoiled and shifted away from him until her body hugged the door.

What the hell?
He yanked his hand back as though she’d just bitten it. “Want to talk about it?” he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

“Nothing to talk about.”

Uh-oh.
Releasing the brake, he pulled out into traffic and headed north. “Thinking about the next clue?”

“No.”

Okay.
A few miles went by, then he decided to try again.

“Are you still upset about going back to your old house?”

“No.”

Perhaps he should try for questions that involved
a more comprehensive reply, not just a simple yes or no.

“Tell me what you’re upset about.”

“No.”

Well, hell.
Max punched the button on the CD player. Sultry jazz curled through the air, relaxing him a little but getting him no closer to answering his questions about what was bothering Evie.

They drove on in silence, while Max turned over the events of the day in his head. She needed rest, that was all. The day had been full of activity and surprises. Yes, she needed rest—and a man to make love to her. And he knew just the man for the job.

When they reached the secured lot, he parked and locked the car, while Evie headed down the dock to the new runabout. Without speaking to him, she sat, put on her life vest, then turned away from him to look out to sea. Twenty-five minutes later they were docked on Heyworth Island, and he’d had just about enough of the silent treatment.

Before she could take two steps off the dock, he grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

“What is wrong?” He made each word its own sentence.

Her mouth flattened. Brushing her gloriously tangled hair off her face, she averted her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What have I done?”

She lifted her chin. “What makes you think you’ve done anything?”

“I haven’t,” he snapped. “But
you
think I have. Out with it.”

“You’re imagining things.”

Grasping her shoulders, he forced her to look up at him. “What did I do?”

She scowled, then shook his hands free.
“I don’t want to talk about it.
”

“Ah, so you
do
think I’ve done something.”

In a tight little voice, she said, “You can run your life any way you want. It’s none of my business. You can see whomever you
wish. It’s no concern of mine.
”

He closed one eye, tucked in his chin and frowned. What in the hell was she talking about? She’d been fine back at the gas station, but when she came out of the rest room, he’d just been finishing
his conversation with Nate…

I can’t wait to see you, either. Good-bye, Darling.
His own words rang like a gong inside his head. She’d
heard
him. She’d heard him, and she t
hought…

He looked into her accusing eyes and tried not to laugh.

Feigning anger, he said, “Did you eavesdrop on my phone call?”

Her beautiful mouth tightened into a rosebud and she looked away. “You might have mentioned you were involved with someone bef
ore I… before we…
”

“Well, I’m not terribly involved,” he said in an offhanded way. “
It’s what you’d call a new rela
tionship, and it’s a little unsteady. I’d even call it competitive.”

“Whatever,” she said in a light, breezy tone.

He was having trouble keeping the laughter from his voice, but the look on her face, the glint in her eyes, the stance of her delectable body, fed his desire to play with her a little longer. He’d make it worth her while, though. He’d make it very worth her while.

“Listen,” he said with a shrug. “About that
other
relationship. We have never slept together, and I think it’s safe to say we never will. Totally not my type, sexually.” He grinned. “Evie. I love it that you’re jealous.”

Her head came up, her mouth opened, her eyes widened. “I am
not
jealous! I could not care
less
who you sleep with or don’t sleep with or—”

“Darling,” he said.

“Wh-What?”

“Darling. Detective Nate Darling. He’s my partner, Evie. That’s what you heard. But I love it that you thought—”

Before he could react, she doubled her fist and punched him in the stomach.

“You son of a bitch!” she huffed. “How dare you make me think
…
you bastard! And here I
…
and you
didn’t
…
I felt like such a—”

He stopped her tirade with his mouth. Crushing her lips with his kiss, he thrust his tongue inside. Against his chest, her breasts tormented him. He wanted to rip open her blouse and take them in his hands, make love to her here, right here on the dock, revel in her body, listen to her cries, capture her heart for his own.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and
pulled her tight against him, holding her so very close, thankful for her existence, for the energy and vitality that was E
vie. Beneath his hands, her mus
cles were firm and warm, and he felt giddy from the joy of holding her like this once more.

And then she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging to him, taking possession of him, telling him with her lips and her body that she was his, and more, that he belonged only to her. And, damn it if it wasn’t true. He
did
belong to her, and with sudden clarity he realized he liked that idea a lot.

Against his mouth she whispered, “I still think you’re a rotten son of a—”

He kissed her again, cutting off her damning words, holding her cl
ose until he felt her body con
vulse in repressed laughter. She pulled away an inch, licked and
nibbled his bottom lip and mur
mured, “I am so going to make you pay.”

“Can we eat first? I need to keep my strength up.”

“And that’s not all,” she teased.

He took her hand and they walked off the dock and up the stone path leading to the mansion. All the lights were on, welcoming them home like prodigal wanderers. As they reached the front door, Evie tugged on Max’s arm.

“Hang on a minute,” she said. “I want to ask you something.”

Leaning back against the stone archway over the massive front door, he slipped his hands around her waist. “Anything.”

With her palms resting lightly on his forearms, she said, “If you were me, would you do the DNA
test? I mean, without my mother’s DNA, we can’t prove whether Thomas was really my father, but if the results exclude him, then t
hat’ll be more than I know now.
”