Tough Customer (23 page)

"Today Crystal told me that Franklin is a great guy. Really, she said, stressing it. Except that he can get moody. In the past, he's been in trouble with the law, so her parents distrust and dislike him and told her that, as long as she was with him, they want nothing to do with her. Which sorta hurts her feelings, but she loves Franklin, so there you go."

"She and Franklin had a fight last night. He accused her of flirting with a salesclerk at Radio Shack, which she swears she wasn't. Can she help it if the guy was ogling her? I said the poor guy probably couldn't help himself, and she laughed and swatted my hand. Well, yeah, that classifies as flirting. But at this stage, a little flirting is okay. Don't you know
anything
about women?"

"She wishes Franklin wasn't so jealous. For instance, if he knew we were eating lunch together every day, he wouldn't like it.

Not at all.
He'd never understand that we're just friends, she said. And I said, 'Is that all we are? Just friends?' And she got all flustered. Blushed a little. Did the bit with the eyelashes again. Swear to God, they're stiff and black like the legs of a dead cockroach. Where was I? Oh, right. I definitely think I'm making progress. One sure sign, her skirts are getting shorter and her blouses lower cut. Yeah, I gotta admit, the view would make you assholes drool."

"She put her hand on my thigh today. No, I'm not lying, jerkface. She only did it to make a point of what she was saying, but still, it counts. How high up? Use your imagination. High enough to set my balls a-tingle. No, nothing about Franklin today, except that she said it probably wouldn't be a good idea if he saw us walking out of the plant together after our shift."

"This could be a major breakthrough, so everybody listen up. No, I didn't get to second base. Jesus, what are you? Fourth grade? Are you listening now? Okay then. Crystal told me that Franklin goes fishing periodically at Falcon Lake. He meets his cousin there. Any of you ignoramuses know the geography of Texas? Falcon Lake is right on the border with Mexico, where his cousin, ahem, has taken up residence.

"So what I'm thinking, is ... Bingo, Captain. Franklin robs a bank, then drives on down to Falcon Lake, gets in a boat probably, and hands the loot over to his cousin in Old Meh-hee-co, where the cash is laundered. It reenters the US of A as squeaky clean legal tender.

"All I gotta do is get out of Crystal when Franklin's most recent fishing trip was and see if it corresponds with the date of the last robbery. If it does, Franklin moves up several notches on the suspect list. How am I gonna get the info out of Crystal? Don't you wish you knew?"

Caroline was trying hard to stay awake. She'd already been here two and a half hours, but with only thirty minutes to go, she was afraid she wouldn't make it without falling asleep from boredom.

She was on the verge of nodding off when a car pulled up at the curb and parked. A man got out and walked toward the house. Through the glass in the storm door, his silhouette showed up large, and she experienced a twinge of apprehension, as she always did when showing a house to a man alone.

He opened the door and stepped into the foyer.

When she recognized Dodge Hanley, her heart gave a bump of a different sort. The reaction startled and confused her. It had been two months since she'd told him not to interfere with her life and had warned him of serious consequences if he did. She'd thought she would never see him again. But here he was, and her involuntary excitement was unsettling.

She stood up.

He said, "Hi."

"Hi."

She'd been seated in a folding chair at a card table. Draped in a gold cloth, it served as a reception desk. Scattered across it were leaflets describing the house for sale and a goodly number of her business cards. She was unreasonably glad that the table was between her and the policeman, who was out of uniform, wearing a sport coat and slacks instead.

"What are you doing here?"

He raised the folded sheet of newspaper he'd carried in with him and pointed to an ad in the real estate section. "Open house. Sunday. Two till five. It's got a picture of this house, it gives the street address, and it's listed under your name as an agent for Jim Malone Realty."

"I know what the ad says. I proofread it before submitting it to the classifieds. That doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"It's an open house."

His obtuseness was irrationally disarming and made her want to smile. Instead, she folded her arms across her middle, where she was still experiencing a flutter, and asked loftily, "Are you in the market for a home, Mr. Hanley?"

"Maybe." He gave the foyer a slow survey. "What's to recommend this house? Please don't tell me this wallpaper is its best feature."

She managed to keep her smile in check, but barely. "It's got a nice backyard. Fenced."

"Wood fence?"

"Cyclone."

He frowned.

"Large, native trees," she continued. "Very shady. And with a little repair, the patio--"

"Repair?"

"Minimal repair would return it to being, uh, usable."

"Huh." He glanced into the adjacent living room at the turquoise brocade divan. "Ugly furniture."

"The furniture isn't included in the sale."

"Lucky us."

"With new paint, wallpaper, and furniture, the house would look entirely different. You have to have an imagination."

"A
wild
imagination."

Knowing it was a game, she continued playing along. "It has three bedrooms, one down, two up. Two fireplaces, one in the formal living area, and one in the den, which used to be the garage. The owners converted it into a room when the house underwent a total renovation."

He looked up at a crack in the ceiling. "When was that?"

"Nineteen fifty-two."

He raised his eyebrows, and she could no longer contain her self-deprecating laughter. "The place is a disaster. But it's my first listing."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

They shared a grin, then he said, "Jim Malone Realty. He's a bigwig, right? His signs are all over Houston."

"I'm very fortunate to have been hired by his agency."

"He's fortunate to get you."

She accepted the compliment with a humble nod. "His company is very well established. I'm a newcomer. I've got a lot to learn."

"Is that why you pulled this detail?"

"I volunteered."

"You've got ambition, Ms. King."

"I don't want to go back to the tax assessor's office."

"Can't say I blame you for that." He smiled again and glanced down at the brochures on the table. "Have you had many people come by?"

"You're the third in nearly three hours."

"You've had to sit here for all that time by yourself?"

"Well, there's the cat, but he hissed at the first couple who came in, so I locked him in the pantry."

"Can you stick it out for"--he consulted his watch--"twenty-two more minutes?"

"I've been counting them down and trying to stay awake."

They exchanged another smile, then neither said anything, and the silence of the house pressed in around them. This man made her uneasy, and she couldn't account for it. Even when she was interviewed by Jim Malone himself, persuading him that she would be an asset to his agency despite her inexperience, she hadn't been as nervous as she was now. Around Dodge Hanley she became self-conscious, unsure, and at a loss for what to say and where to look.

Maybe it was a natural reaction to being in the company of a police officer. Drivers automatically tapped their brakes when they spotted a radar trap even when they weren't speeding. Perhaps it was Dodge's implied authority that intimidated her.

Or maybe she was still embarrassed over how he'd first seen her, with the effects of Roger's slap evident--the mark on her cheek fresh, the emotional impact of it equally raw. She'd been unable to hide her mortification then, and she couldn't now.

Perhaps her discomfiture had something to do not with
her
but with
him.
His strong features, tough bearing, and unmitigated masculinity hinted at the latent violent streak that she knew could be ferocious. After all, she'd seen the result of it. Roger had been hospitalized for ten days following the beating he took.

She didn't fear for her own safety, however. Dodge Hanley posed no threat to her, even by implication. In fact, his demeanor was protective, almost quaintly chivalrous. She felt a gravitational pull toward it that was entirely feminine.

It was that instinctual response to him that gave her butterflies. Being near him made her feel as if she was balancing on tiptoe at the end of a high diving board. By turns, it was exhilarating and terrifying.

All the time these thoughts were going through her mind, they'd been staring at each other. Needing to fill the dense silence, she asked, "Are you still on the task force?"

"They haven't kicked me off yet."

"So the crime remains unsolved?"

"We're working on it."

"Is it dangerous work?"

"Piece o' cake."

"I doubt that." Another silence descended while she stared at the cobweb in the corner just beyond his head, and he stared at her face. She could practically feel his eyes as they touched on each separate feature. "How's your partner?"

"Gonzales."

"Right, Officer Gonzales. Is he doing okay?"

"Yeah, he's good. I think he likes his new partner better than me, which kinda hurts my feelings."

"I doubt that, too."

"What? That he likes his new partner better, or that I can have my feelings hurt?"

"That he likes his new partner better."

He shrugged. "Maybe Gonzales is just trying to make me jealous." They smiled together. His faded first. "But I do have feelings, and they can get hurt."

"You wouldn't be human otherwise."

"Oh, I'm human. Real human. Very human." He looked down at her left hand, where, in the last few seconds, her engagement ring had taken on the weight of an anchor. "How are the wedding plans coming?"

The smile she flashed him felt artificial. "Great. Moving right along. Lots of details to see to."

"Parties to attend."

"Yes. There have been a few."

"Couple of weeks ago, I saw your picture in the society section of the
Chronicle.
"

"You read the society section?"

"Didn't used to. I started scanning it a few months ago. Never read the Sunday real estate section, either. Now I never miss." He let those statements resonate for several seconds before continuing. "Anyway this picture showed you and Campton standing together under those"--he waggled his fingers above his head--"those whachamacallits hanging from the trees."

"Japanese lanterns."

"Yeah. Looked like a swell shindig. The article said the governor was there."

"Roger's parents are friends with him and his wife."

"Huh. Will they be at the wedding?"

"They're on the guest list."

"Who'll be there on your side? Your family?"

"I don't have a family. No brothers or sisters. My parents are deceased."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. I was a late-in-life child. They'd given up ever having a baby. I was a menopausal surprise."

"A good one, I'll bet."

She smiled wistfully. "Mom and Dad were very happy to have me, and I was fortunate to have them. They were middle-class wage earners and proud to be. My mother was a lady, my father a gentleman. Both had a strong work ethic. They loved God, and country, and me. They lived their life expectancy, but I was relatively young when I lost them. Being an orphan is no fun."

"It has its perks."

She looked at him with surprised puzzlement.

He rolled his shoulders as though his jacket had suddenly become too tight. "My mom was okay. She died when I was in seventh grade. My dad and I didn't get along that well, so we just tried to stay out of each other's way till I was old enough to leave home."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen. Two days after my high school graduation, I split. Didn't even wait till the fall semester, enrolled at Texas Tech that summer."

"That must have made your father proud."

"Not really. When I told him I wanted to be a cop, he laughed, said I'd make a better criminal."

"I'm sure he changed his mind once you became an officer."

"He didn't live to see it. He died still thinking I wouldn't amount to much."

She could think of nothing to say that wouldn't sound banal, so she said nothing.

"So who's going to walk you down the aisle?" he asked.

"Roger's best man."

"That's handy."

"Um-huh."

"Got your dress?"

"The final fitting was last week."

"Pretty?"

"I think so."

"I'm sure you'll be a vision."

"I hope my groom thinks so."

"He'd have to be blind."

The conversation ended there, leaving Caroline to wonder how the entryway seemed to have shrunk over the course of their conversation. The air was thicker, the old house smelled mustier. And even though neither of them had moved, he seemed to be closer. She was even more grateful for the card table standing between her and this man who made her nervous.

She glanced at her wristwatch. "Nearly time. I can begin closing up shop."

"I'm sorry you didn't have any takers."

"Me, too. I'm going to urge the sellers to get more aggressive."

"More aggressive?"

"Lower their price."

He snuffled a laugh.

She expected him to tell her good-bye and good luck and leave. But he just stood there. She made a hand gesture and said, "Well..."