NOT What I Was Expecting (20 page)

“Stubby?” Luke
asked slowly.  “Fry’s warehouse garage guy?  The prescription eyedrops guy?” he
asked as realization hit him.

“Yes, that’s the
one!”  When I saw the dubious look on Luke’s face, I added, “Okay, maybe ‘unique’
is the wrong word to describe his abilities.  I guess ‘questionably legal’
would probably be more appropriate, but Luke, we really need this information. 
If Fry can get more details from Stubby than we would get by ourselves, I say
we tap into this resource.”

“Maggie, I hate
putting you in the middle of this.  I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’ve
never crossed the line between legal and illegal, because I have been known to
– repeatedly.  I can’t even tell you it was all a long time ago in my past,
since I’ve been known to skirt that line in recent years when it was for a good
cause and seemed unavoidable,” he admitted.  “But I think we are coming to the
point where your involvement is not the best thing for you.  I think it would
be best if you went home and let me handle this myself.”

“No,” I explained.

Luke sat a little
straighter but didn’t say anything for a minute.  He blinked a few times, gave
his head a slight shake, and finally said, “No?  What do you mean no?  I didn’t
ask you a question.”  Luke spoke slowly and evenly, to make it clear he had
made his final decision in no uncertain terms.

I smiled and said
softly, calmly, and politely, “Oh, I know you didn’t ask a question.  Out of
consideration for you, I decided to take it as a suggestion, rather than the
more unfortunate interpretation I could have made, which was as an order.  And
while your ever so gallant suggestion has touched me and warmed my heart, to
that suggestion I say
NO
.”  I was very proud of myself that my voice had
remained soft and calm.  Now I waited for round two to begin.

Luke leaned back
in his chair and laughed.

That was no way to
begin round two.  Before I had the chance to ask him what he was laughing at,
he stood up, leaned across the table, and patted me on the head.

“You win,” he said
as he left the room, shaking his head and laughing.  As he started down the
hall, he yelled over his shoulder, “You sure are cute when you get all
obstinate like that.”  He was back after only a minute and yelled as he went by
on his way out, “Going for a quick run.  Be back in a bit,” and he was gone.

I sat there with
my mouth hanging open for a few minutes and thought about how much I kind of
hated that guy.  Patted me on the head?  He patted me on the head?  I was just
glad he’d left the room right away, because I had no response that wouldn’t
have been extremely immature, except one that would have cost me a fortune if
Swear Bear lived here.  I was even happier that he’d left the apartment.  This
would give me time to let my blood pressure return to a normal level before I
had to deal with him again.

I walked over to
pour myself another cup of coffee, caught a glimpse of my reflection in the
glass cabinet, and was surprised to see that I was smiling.  Now I was the one
shaking my head and silently chuckling.  Luke Becnel, I thought, you sure are
cute when you’re being all difficult, which is apparently 23 hours and 45
minutes every day.  I’m guessing he takes a 15 minute break from being a pain.

CHAPTER 13

“Yes, CeCe, I feel
better,” I assured her.  “I’m sorry I was sort of all over the place this
morning when we spoke.”

“You’re forgiven,”
CeCe allowed, “but tell Luke not to let you drink anymore.  You know how you
get.”

“Look, it’s not
Luke’s job to monitor me, and I can take care of myself,” I contended.  “I just
had too much on my mind, and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing last
night.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to let that happen again.  Now tell me
what’s going on there.”

“Well,” CeCe
began, “since it’s Sunday and I don’t have to go into the shop I thought I’d do
some yard work and then maybe . . . .”

“That’s great,
CeCe, but I was actually talking about what’s going on with the investigation,”
I pointed out.

“Oh, sure.  Um, I
don’t have any idea what the police have been up to, but I can tell you Luke is
still wanted only for questioning.  Oh, and there’s a BOLO for him now.  I saw
Deputy Ben at the sisters’ house last night for the Neighborhood Watch
meeting.  That’s when he asked me if we’d heard from Luke and told me they’d
issued the BOLO.”

“What’s a BOLO?” I
asked, since I decided CeCe was going to keep referring to it without
explaining what it was.

“Oh, sorry Mags,”
CeCe apologized.  “That is a Be-on-the-Lookout request.  Now that I’m
pretend-dating an officer of the law, I have to keep up with the lingo.”

That was a lot to
process.  They were on the “lookout” for Luke?  He was still wanted “only” for
questioning?  As opposed to what – being wanted for murder?  Pretend-dating?

“CeCe, what do you
mean they are looking for Luke ‘
only
’ for questioning?  And who are you
pretend-dating?” I asked.

“Why, Deputy Ben,
of course.  Don’t worry.  I’m still on Luke’s side.  I’m just pumping Deputy
Ben for info.  Although, I have to admit, he isn’t very forthcoming with the
lowdown on the perp.  I mean, right now they want Luke for questioning, but
it’s pretty obvious they are looking for enough evidence to issue an arrest
warrant.  I’m on it, though.  Deputy Ben asked me to dinner tonight, and I’ll
get the latest scoop then.”

“What do you mean
arrest?  How can they hope to arrest Luke?  He wasn’t involved in the murders,”
I asserted.  I was glad I’d called CeCe while Luke was still out for his run,
instead of sitting in front of me listening to this.  “And when did this
pretend-dating start?  I thought Deputy Ben was Enemy #1?”

“Sure, Maggie.  But
you know the saying,
‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’
right?”
CeCe explained.  “That’s all I’m doing.  I was sweet and friendly to him at the
Neighborhood Watch meeting last night.  Which by the way, the sisters think you
missed due to your laryngitis, so they sent well wishes and chicken soup home
with me.  Anyway, after working my feminine wiles, Deputy Ben asked me out.”

“Just like that?”
I asked with my skepticism oozing through the phone.  “All this time you’ve
been sweet and friendly, and he didn’t know your name.  Now just like that, he
asked you out?”

“Your point
being?” CeCe responded through clenched teeth.

“Um, you don’t
find his timing kind of suspect?  Look CeCe, I know you’re a great catch.  My
concern is that he might be trying to get information from you, and that might
be the reason behind his timing.”

“That sleaze! 
He’s taking me to dinner just to get information on Luke from me?  What a
worm,” CeCe ranted.

“Well, and I’m not
defending the worm,” I pointed out, “but isn’t that the same reason you’re
going out with him?”

“No,” CeCe
answered quickly.  “I mean, my pumping is to find the truth and preserve
justice, while his pumping is for a lie.  We’ll just see who’s the pumper and
who’s the pumpee.”

“Wait, CeCe,” I
practically yelled into the phone.  “What are you planning to do?  I don’t want
you to give away Luke’s location, but I don’t want you lying to the police
either.  That will get you in a lot of trouble.  So far, our lies have really
just been a lack of telling everything we know, well except for that first
little fib or two.  The point is I don’t want you to
fabricate
things.”

“It’s called
‘misinformation’ Mags, and you just leave everything to me,” CeCe clarified.  “I’ll
have the sheriff’s department looking for Luke on a fishing boat out of Alaska
before you know it.  Now Fry just got here, because we’re going to Sunday
brunch.  Do you want to speak to him?” 

“Yes!”  This time
I did yell.

“Hey, Maggie. 
What up?”  Fry was in his usual good mood, since he was about to be fed.

I quickly told Fry
everything we had learned from Joseph Parker, stressed how much we needed
Stubby’s help with information, and went into an in depth description of ways
to neutralize CeCe, including but not limited to tying her down.  In addition
to asking for his help, I wanted to know what was going on with Fry’s law
enforcement shadow.

When I finally
stopped to breathe, Fry tried to calm me.

“Maggie, Maggie,
Maggie.  You can count on me.  Have I ever let you down?” he reasoned.  “I’ll
speak with Stubby, so give him 24 hours to get the info you need on this
Phoenix, Arizona person named Parker.  I’ll handle CeCe, so she won’t need you
to visit her in the joint anytime soon.  I don’t have a police shadow so much
as a pop in uninvited guest from time to time.  Sometimes, when I know I have
their attention and feel they need a little something from Fry, I take a ride
over to Barney’s house, knock on the door, look all disappointed when nobody
answers and leave.  Now sit tight, stay cool, and I’ll call you tomorrow
morning.  Are you keeping your cell charged?”

I heard the front
door open as Luke came in, saw me on the phone, and whispered, “Shower,” before
heading down the hall.

“Yes,” I sighed.  “Luke’s
charger fits my phone, so call me on my cell as soon as you know something, and
Fry,” I said wrapping up, “thanks.  I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Fortunately for
you, that is not something you’ll ever have to learn to do – without me, I
mean.  Take care of Luke, and we’ll see you soon.”

When I finished
talking to CeCe and Fry, I cleaned up the kitchen while I waited to update
Luke.

When Luke came
into the kitchen to get some water, I filled him in on my conversation with
CeCe and Fry.

“I know it isn’t
unreasonable to give this Stubby guy 24 hours,” Luke began, looking a little
frustrated, “but I have to tell you, I’m struggling with this patience thing. 
I’m not very good with waiting.” 

I let a snicker
slip, and Luke looked at me kind of surprised as he asked, “What’s funny?”

“I’m sorry,” I
apologized, but I couldn’t stop chuckling.  “I’m not laughing at you.  It’s
just that you seem to be one of the most patient people I’ve ever met.”

Luke smiled at
that.  “Maybe on the outside.  Not on the inside.”

“Then let’s get
your mind off of the waiting,” I suggested.  “Let me run put some clothes on,
and then we can take a leisurely look around.  I mean, we are in the Quarter. 
It’s not like there’s nothing to do.”

“Truth is, since
we’re in the Quarter, you wouldn’t even really have to get dressed,” Luke
pointed out with a grin.  “I’m just saying.”

I nodded in
agreement and said, “Yeah well, forgive me, but I don’t think I want to go that
far to blend in.”  On that note, I dashed back to my bedroom and jumped into
some jeans and a t-shirt that said
My Dog is Da Bomb!
  After I slapped
on some powder, brushed on some mascara, and gave my lips a few quick passes
with the lip brush, I called myself ready.

I was forced to
reassess my opinion, however, when I stepped into the living room, and Luke
looked up from the laptop.  A big smile crept across his face, as he sputtered,
“What is that?”

“What?” I asked
the picture of innocence. 

“What’s with the
shirt?” Luke clarified.  “You don’t have a dog!”

“I’m aware, but it
w . . . ,” I ended with an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m sorry, what
was that?” Luke wanted to know.

“It was on sale,”
I said slowly and softly.

“But you don’t
have a dog,” Luke stressed softly.

“I know that,” I
responded a little bit more abruptly than I intended.  “Why do you keep saying
that?  I realize I don’t own a dog, but that didn’t happen to be a prerequisite
for buying this shirt.”

“It just seems a
strange sentiment to wear on your shirt when you don’t even own a dog,” he
observed.

I could tell by
the look on his face that he was enjoying giving me a hard time and didn’t
really care about the shirt at all.

“I mean, what are
you going to say if somebody asks you what type of dog you own?” he inquired.  “Don’t
you think you’ll feel a little silly admitting you don’t have any kind of dog? 
You’re not even a pet owner and here you are announcing to anyone who can read
that you have a dog who is ‘Da Bomb.’”

“Look, nobody is
going to ask what kind of dog I have, and – wait a minute.  What do you mean
I’m not even a pet owner?  I have a cat,” I argued.

“You don’t have a
cat,” Luke declared and shook his head in an annoying matter-of-fact manner.

“I absolutely
do
have a cat,” I shot back.  “And she happens to think I’m a terrific pet owner.”

“You don’t have a
cat,” Luke stated flatly.

“Wha – uh – ya-huh!”
I countered, cutting him to the quick.

“You don’t have a
cat,” he repeated perfectly calmly, “and I’ll tell you how I know you don’t
have a cat.  We have been together all this time, and you’ve never once mentioned
a cat.  You don’t have a cat.”

After my last
brilliant response, I wasn’t sure I could top that, so I just stood there with
my mouth hanging open while Luke scooped up my cell phone from the table and
dropped it into my open purse, which he proceeded to push into my hands.

“Okay,” he said
when he noticed I hadn’t moved.  “If you have a cat, what is her name?”

“Sassy Cat,” I
replied smugly, thinking HA!  I guess I won that one.

“Sassy Cat?” Luke
repeated looking at me incredulously.  “Sassy Cat is not a name, it’s a
description.  See, I knew it.  You don’t have a cat.  Let’s go.  I’m starving.”

Although I felt
the desire to sputter more pieces of words and slap him around a little
(whatever would work to make him believe me), I also realized I was pretty
hungry now that my stomach was calm.  Besides, I’d win this one in the end when
Sassy Cat presented her regal little self to Mr. Luke after we got home.

We walked down the
street toward the river until we came to a little restaurant with the front
door standing open.  The chalkboard sign next to the door listed the special as
Shrimp and Cheese Grits.

When Luke saw me
looking at the sign as we entered, he said, “I take it the special looks good
to you?”

“Actually, it
looks perfect, but how did you know?” I asked, amazed by his psychic abilities.

“The little drops
of drool on the side of your mouth gave you away,” he informed me.  “I’m just
glad you’re feeling better.  I was a little worried you might not find anything
that looked good after all the — excitement your stomach went through last
night.”

“Oh yeah, that,” I
said, not too thrilled that we were on the subject of my embarrassing
overindulgence of the night before.  “Seriously, I’m fine now.”

As Luke and I
opened our menus at the table we’d chosen (the place being one of those
informal, seat yourself deals), our waiter walked up.

“What can I bring
you to drink, ma’am?”

“Diet soda!” Luke
and I practically yelled at the same time.  That caused the waiter to look up
from his pad he’d been studying.

“O - kay,” he
said, never taking his eyes off me, “and you, sir?”

“I’ll have an iced
tea,” Luke said, as he watched the waiter watch me.

“Cool,” the waiter
responded, “and cool shirt.  What kind of dog do you have?”

So that’s why he’d
been staring at me – he’d been reading my shirt.  Luke, meanwhile, was faking a
coughing fit so the waiter guy wouldn’t think he was laughing at him.

“A Staffordshire
Bull Terrier,” I blurted.  The words were out of my mouth without any thinking
involved.  It was a knee jerk reaction, and I decided to go with it, so at
least Luke would be wrong about me feeling strange for wearing this shirt when
I had no dog.  Now I’d just feel weird for lying about having a dog.

“Wow,” our young
waiter said in awe.  “Now that’s a cool dog.  Oh, I’ll get your drinks,” he
declared and left.  Luke was still fake coughing, and the waiter probably
realized lack of concern over a customer hacking up a lung might be reflected
in his tip.

Once the waiter
rushed our drinks over to the table, and Luke was free to speak, he looked into
my eyes and said, “Maggie, I’ve learned something very important.”

“What’s that?” I
asked looking into his eyes and speaking just as softly as he had.

“To be careful
about what I believe if it came out of your mouth.”  Luke’s expression changed from
serious to grinning in the blink of an eye.  “You had the most innocent,
sincere look on your face when you let loose that lie.”

“It’s a gift,” I
said with a shrug and tried to look humble.  “The waiter looked like one of
those muscle guys who would find a macho dog to be cool, so I just kind of told
him something he wanted to hear.  He’s happy.  He didn’t tell me I was weird
for wearing a shirt that has no meaning to me, so I’m happy.  And he asked the
question you felt sure someone would ask, so you’re happy.  I just happen to
like it when everyone’s happy.”

As I enjoyed my
shrimp and cheese grits that went down so smoothly, Luke inhaled a huge plate
of shrimp, french fries, and hush puppies.  Once we finished, we decided we
should probably walk around a while to burn off some of Luke’s shrimp
extravaganza.