Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (21 page)

“That’s a tough one, but I think I’ll start with the Chardonnay and save the dewormer for another day.” Chip opened the wine, poured two glasses and gave one to Jane.

“Sorry about the Arby’s glasses. I haven’t invested in any glassware yet. Here’s to the loveliest vet in Iowa.” He lifted his glass and let his eyes wander to her breasts. She clinked glasses with him, and added her own toast.

“Here’s to Iowa’s best mystery writer. I read
The Cranium Killer,
and it’s great fun. Maybe you could write one where a vet solves the crime. What’s the next one called? ”

“
Brain Freeze
, unless the editor decides to change it. Sorry, no vet in the story, but Dr. Goodman returns if you’re interested in handsome neurosurgeons.”

“Oh, I suppose your female readers will be pleased.” Jane tugged down her shirt.

Chip was imagining removing that shirt. An awkward moment passed. He took a gulp of wine. In his past life, this was the time he would have made his move, planted a kiss on her exposed neck, and lightly placed his hand on one of those tempting breasts. But, that was then, and this was Jane. That was when he was a “player” living the fast life in a world of money, booze, gambling, and women with questionable morals. This was Jane, a caring, competent, decent vet and mother in Iowa, a “real woman,” as far from a plastic Barbie doll or a country club princess as any woman could be. She was a woman out of his class in the best possible ways.

“At the Bun you mentioned something you wanted to show me.” Jane sounded a bit uncomfortable, as if she had sensed his interest in her breasts.

“Oh, yes. Here, look at what I have on my computer.”

Jane stood behind Chip, placed her hands on his shoulders and bent over to view his laptop as Chip showed her the photos of the labels, the informational sites on the chemicals and the EPA site.

“These are not eco-friendly chemicals, not EPA-approved. Look at all the nitrates they contain.” He showed her the label listings and warnings. “I’m pretty sure these are like the barrels I see leaving the warehouse late at night.”

“But why would Hal use them?”

“Here look at these cost comparisons. There’s a pretty drastic difference in these chemicals, especially in the degreasers and solvents, and their ecological counterparts. He may be doing it to cut costs.”

“It still doesn’t make total sense to me. Why would he dump them in Beaver Creek, if that’s what he’s doing? Wouldn’t those chemicals be used up in the manufacturing process?”

“Yes, and that’s where I’m stumped. Something else must be put in those barrels when they are empty and that’s what’s getting dumped late at night. First we have to confirm the dumping, and then we have to determine exactly what is being dumped and why. My guess is that it’s another cost-cutting measure. Disposal of hazardous waste has to be very expensive.”

“For some reason I always thought Hal was an honest businessman, even though he was totally dishonest with me about his extra-marital affairs. Maybe I was wrong. If this is driven by money, I would guess we’re talking more than cutting a few dollars.

“I wish the state authorities would get a move on and give us some assistance. Seems they breathe down our necks when we don’t want them, like the time they cited Gus Jorgenson’s swine operation with a huge fine for very minor infractions and almost put him out of business. Then when we really need them, they’re too busy.”

Chip shut down his laptop and poured them each another glass of wine.

“Make yourself comfortable in the living room, and I’ll make us some microwave popcorn. I’m a master chef with the microwave.”

Chip put his iPod into the Bose speakers and selected a Gershwin track, turning it down low.
“Embrace me, you sweet embraceable you,”
crooned a sensual voice. He left to make a bag of Pop Secret. When he returned to the living room, Jane had removed her shoes and propped her feet up on the scarred coffee table that Chip had purchased at a thrift store. He sat beside her and placed his arm along the back of the sofa behind her head.
“Just one look at you, my heart goes tipsy in me …”

Jane took a sip of wine and placed her tumbler on the table. She laid her head on Chip’s arm and closed her eyes. “This is divinely peaceful.”

Chip bent his head and lightly kissed each of her eyelids. He waited for a response, then heard a deep sigh.

“Mmm, nice,” said Jane.

It was all the encouragement that Chip needed. He moved down to plant another kiss on her nose and then another on her lips. He kept each a light, brief, butterfly kiss. She placed her hands on the sides of his face and lightly kissed him on the mouth, then followed with a deeper, longer kiss. Many kisses.

As she arched her body, Chip worked his way down with his mouth and tongue and hands. He kissed her neck and felt her hardening nipples. Together they discarded items of clothing and discovered and explored soft and wet places, hard and hot places. Her black shirt and nude demi-bra and his blue vest and shirt were hastily removed and tossed on the floor, until they were skin to skin. Jane leaned back on the coach and opened herself for Chip. He entered tentatively. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips rocking, inviting deeper and deeper thrusts, until they were at last sated.

They moved from the couch to Chip’s bed where they rested in each other’s arms until the adventure started again with the same excruciating pleasure seeking.

Chip woke to see the sun breaking through the rain clouds. For the first time this spring, he heard the cheerful chirping of birds. He brought the bed sheet to his nose and sniffed the sensual mixture of Chanel, Polo, and sex. Jane had left before dawn in order to wake her kids and get them off to school. Damn, he had vowed to let John and Jo go at it and to keep himself free from any romantic entanglements. He had messed up three times and sworn off any further romances. So much for making vows he was doomed to break. He finished the song,
“Don’t be a naughty baby, come to Papa, come to Papa do, my sweet embraceable you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Turners Bend

April

Heavy April rains had been keeping the farmers out of the fields. Jane saw them as she entered the Bun, their eyes focused out the windows, their pent-up energy chomping at the bit, ready to mount their tractors and ride across their acres. Maybe today’s sun would bring the dry spell they needed. They sat silently stirring their coffee round and round. More sugar, more cream,
clink, clink, clink
.

Jane made it home that morning just minutes before 7:00 a.m., the time she usually woke Sven and Ingrid for school. Now a little over an hour later she moved through the crowded café and headed for Chip’s still empty table, the table for two in the far corner of the Bun. She could have easily joined the Fredricksons and their cronies in their booth or taken the vacant chair at the farmers’ table, but she needed to be alone, to think, to sort out her conflicting feelings for a few moments before Chip arrived. Mornings after first sex were fraught with both uncertainty and residual passion. Jane had a dose of each, plus embarrassment. Here she was, a mother of teenage children, a vet, a middle-aged woman, someone who should know better than to get involved with a guy who had been married and divorced three times. She resolved to stop her foolish behavior and nip this relationship in the bud before it went any further. And yet, there was something about him that was so alluring, so tempting. What was it?

Chip entered the café, spotted her and ambled toward the table with a boyish grin on his face. He looked so happy, she thought. So cute with his slightly messed, curly hair and his rimless eye glasses. He lacked the physical signs of hard labor that she saw in most of Turners Bend’s farmers and factory workers. He didn’t have a potbelly or a receding hairline like the town’s merchants and businessmen. She guessed he probably played tennis in school, not big enough for football, too short for basketball. Chip Collingsworth was about as unlike her ex-husband as a guy could be.

“Hey,” he said, as he took the chair across from her.

“Hey, yourself.”

He reached to cover her hand with his, but she pulled hers away and nodded over to the booth where Chief Fredrickson, Flora, and other city officials were sitting. “Last night was …” she hesitated, searching for the right word.

“You were amazing last night, pretty lady.”

She felt heat rise from her neck and flood into her face. Her resolve was weakening, taking a direct hit.

Chip gazed into her eyes and lowered his voice. He nodded his head toward the counter. “I was thinking about clearing that lunch counter over there, and going for an encore.”

“If I remember correctly, you had an encore last night.” And, a wonderful encore it was, she recalled.

“
Ah, yes, I remember it well
.” He sang in a bad imitation of Maurice Chevalier. “I guess it will have to be called a reprise then. So when?”

She took a deep breath. This was where she had to put the brakes on this relationship. “I have a vet practice to take care of, and you have a book to write and a weekend sleuthing job. And truthfully, Chip, I’m not sure this is such a good idea. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that I had gone too long without. I don’t know. I have baggage. You have baggage. Let’s just slow down.”

“Can I at least walk you to your office?”

She heard hurt and disappointment in his voice. Doubt began to creep in on little paws. He really was damn attractive, awfully sweet. “Sure, let’s head out,” she said.

Flora wasn’t missing any of the looks between Jane and Chip. Her gaze followed them as they left the Bun together. As they walked passed the front window, she noticed they were holding hands.

“I do believe our Jane has a new beau,” she said to her husband.

“Now, Flora, don’t go meddling. Just let nature takes it course,” said the chief.

“By the looks of it, nature has already taken its course, my dear.” Flora was smugly pleased with herself. She prided herself on her matchmaking, and this one was coming along nicely. The aura she sensed around Chip and Jane, that aftersex glow, was a dead give-away.

Nature almost took its course again in Jane’s clinic. The privacy of the office induced passionate kissing and groping.

“So much for slowing down. Chip, we’ve got to concentrate on our jobs and on what could be happening out at AgriDynamics,” Jane said as she straightened her clothes and hair.

His cupped hands reached for her breasts. She pushed him away.

“You really are a boob man, aren’t you? Now try to focus on something other than my chest. What’s our plan of action?”

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, our plan about the poisonings, you lech,” she said, shaking her head, suppressing a smile. “What can we do without getting in trouble with the law or government agencies?”

“This weekend I’m going to get a look at the manufacturing process. I’ll sneak into the plant and look around for those barrels.”

“Okay, I’m going to stake-out in the plant parking lot and follow the truck. I want to confirm that the barrels are being dumped into the creek. What time of night does the truck leave the warehouse?”

“It’s usually about 2:00 a.m., but I don’t want you to do that. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” She felt an instantaneous flare of indignation and heard the edge in her own voice. He would find out that she could be a tigress in more ways than one. He had no right to tell her what she could or could not do. Hal had been “protective” in that horrid dominating, demeaning way; and she would not tolerate men treating her like that any more.

“Okay, okay, so now we have a plan for Saturday night. Sunday afternoon is open to compare notes, if you’re free,” he said. He stood back from her a little.

“Sven and Ingrid will be with Hal’s family for their grandmother’s birthday. We can meet at my place, say at 1:00 p.m. This is a time to report on what we find. Nothing else, okay?” Her intent was to convey a “no sex” message, but did she truly want to put an end to this delicious sex? Her head and her heart were telling her two different things, but her hormones were screaming loud and clear.

Chip couldn’t decide if he should continue pursuing Jane or stay away from the flames for fear of getting burned. And, what did she want? Her words said one thing, but her kisses said another. She was running hot and cold on him, one moment leading him on, the next pushing him away. He had no idea where they were headed.

He had trouble getting to the task of working on the next chapter of
Brain Freeze
. And now, he had to figure out where John and Jo were headed.
Should Dr. Goodman really fall for this sassy FBI agent or should it be another one of the debonair doctor’s flings?