Let sleeping dogs die, p.19
Let Sleeping Dogs Die, page 19
I could just see it. Connie in a homemade gown of gauze and her Rastafarian groom in a garish piece of fabric wrapped around his loins. They probably toasted the nuptials with a bong rather than champagne. Not that I had the nerve to ask her that.
“And after the ceremony, all the women of the village did a beautiful dance. Tyreese said it was to encourage fertility. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I guess. If you want to be fertile, that is.” I didn’t know what to say. Connie was in her midthirties and she’d always said she didn’t have time for children. Or a husband, for that matter. I guessed she’d found time for at least the husband while she was on vacation. “So, when are you coming home?”
“Soon. Tyreese is trying to arrange everything now.”
“Arrange everything?” I asked. That sounded ominous.
“Well, there’s paperwork that has to be completed and some deal he says has to be wrapped up before he can leave.”
Some deal? Like what kind of deal? Probably he was trying to smuggle some ganja onto the airplane. Oh, God. Connie could end up in some Caribbean prison.
“What kind of deal?” I asked even though I was afraid to hear the answer.
“I have no idea. To be honest, my mind tends to wander when he starts talking about deals with all of his buddies. But, don’t worry, I’ll be home soon. Besides, you’ve finished the photo shoot. I knew you could do it without me.”
“I had to change the Christmas layout.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I trust your artistic judgment, Skye.”
“Well, thank you. I just hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“You won’t. I’m sure of it. I’ve got to run. Tyreese is back from some meeting about his deal.”
Dial tone.
I sighed and closed the phone. Right then I didn’t have time to worry about Connie. I had to take a photo of Scott and Irene. After that I had to worry about Sheridan and Bobbi Jo. Not to mention Lionel and probably Peter, too. I’d worry about Connie when she got home again.
Benjamin Steinhart’s studio was dark when I arrived a few minutes before seven. All the other photographers had finished their shoots and left for the day. I opened the building and turned on the lights, leaving the door unlocked for Scott and Irene’s arrivals. At least I hoped it would be separate arrivals. If Scott and I were going to have dinner after the shoot, I didn’t want to have to drop Irene off somewhere, and I really didn’t want her to join us.
Speedway sniffed around the studio, then ran over to me and jumped around. I thought he probably wanted me to hold him.
“Sorry, little boy. I’m busy. You’ll have to entertain yourself for a while.” Then I realized that having Speedway with me could be a problem. I couldn’t take him with us to a restaurant. What had I been thinking? I should have left him at home.
I barely got my camera set up and the lights adjusted around a swath of gray seamless when I heard Irene’s voice.
“Hey, is anyone here?”
“Back here,” I called. I walked to the door and stuck my head out. Irene was walking down the hall.
Tall, blond, gorgeous. She had on a light blue suit that brought out her blue eyes. Her long blond hair looked thick enough to cover several heads and hung in waves no curling iron or perm could duplicate.
“I came early so I’d have time to freshen up my makeup,” she said. “Where should I go?”
I knew exactly where she should go. But I merely directed her to the mirrored counter and chairs that our makeup artists used. She pranced over to perform her fluffing and buffing routine while I continued to work with the lights.
Speedway ran over and growled at her. Irene jumped and backed up, eyeing the little dog with apprehension. Instead of praising him, which is what I wanted to do, I made a clicking noise and said, “No.” Speedway looked disappointed that he wasn’t allowed to bark at her but sidled up next to my leg and sat quietly.
“You’re very dressed up tonight. Got a hot date later?” Irene asked.
“Scott and I are having dinner after the shoot,” I said. I looked up to gauge her reaction, and I wasn’t disappointed.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were close.”
“We’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” I said.
“Scott never mentioned it. I wonder why?”
I seethed. To the point that I was surprised steam didn’t come out of my ears.
“There you are.”
I turned to see Scott standing in the doorway. Tall, handsome, virile. Okay, you can’t really tell if a man is virile by his looks, but still.
“Is this all right?” Scott stepped into the photography bay and turned around. He wore a dark blue suit with a white shirt and conservative striped tie.
“Perfect,” I said. Speedway ran over to him yipping and jumping like he was an old friend.
“Who’s the little rat?” Scott asked.
“Speedway,” I said, then explained how I’d taken him with me when he escaped the kennel.
“Oh, you look so handsome in that suit, Scott.” Irene sashayed across the bay to greet him. “Why, I had no idea you cleaned up this well.” Her hand reached up to rest on his chest.
“Irene, I need you over here to do some light readings.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I needed a human to stand still while I took some readings, and it was a good way to get her away from Scott.
“Oh, let’s both go,” Irene said to Scott.
He pulled back and shot me a glance.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Scott will be fine because his outfit is in high contrast.” I eyed Irene in a critical manner. “But yours is a little muddy. I’d hate for you to look all washed out.”
Irene looked torn. I could tell she wanted to stay with Scott, but I figured she was vain enough to want to look good in the photograph. Vanity won out and she sauntered across the floor, making sure Scott had a good view of her hips whipping side to side. I turned away and rolled my eyes. For revenge I made her stand under the hot lights for fifteen minutes while I fussed with the light meter and tweaked the light an inch this way and an inch that way. By the time I finished, little beads of sweat had popped out on her forehead and her hair looked a little deflated.
“All right, the lights look good for you. Did you want to freshen up a bit before we take the shot?” I asked.
“Do I need to?”
I shrugged. “Not really. The natural look is very popular these days.”
Irene took some quick little running steps back to the makeup counter. Her face almost crumbled when she looked in the mirror. Scott and I talked while she fussed with her hair and applied powder to mop up the sweat.
“Did you really need her to stand there that long?”
“Of course I did. Are you insinuating I had an ulterior motive?”
“Well, I don’t know about a motive for that, but surely there’s some motive to the outfit you’re wearing.”
“Just trying to look professional. And I didn’t know where we might go for dinner. I didn’t want to be underdressed.”
“But I like you underdressed.” Scott’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, wait. That’s not it. I like you undressed.”
“Maybe we could make that happen after dinner,” I said.
“Maybe we could make that happen instead of dinner,” he replied.
“I’m ready. How do I look?” Irene asked.
She looked like Amazon Barbie.
“Perfect,” I said. “If you two would stand over there.” I pointed to a spot on the seamless that I’d marked with masking tape. “And shake hands.” Scott had said a typical grip-and-grin shot. I hated grip-and-grin shots. I thought they looked stupid and posed and revealed nothing of the situation or the participants. But if Scott’s chief wanted a grip-and-grin, then that’s what I’d give him. Besides, I didn’t mind taking a photo of Irene looking stupid.
“Oh, wait. I have something.” Irene minced over to her oversized purse and pulled out a picture frame covered with intricate gold scrolls. “I had this made just for you, Scott.”
Scott took the frame from Irene and looked at it. “Guest Detective of the Year.”
“Wow,” I said. “You don’t get that every day.” I motioned them back to the center of the seamless and focused my camera. “Irene, why don’t you hand the plaque to Scott and, Scott, you put your hand out to take it.”
Scott held out his hand as Irene pushed the plaque toward him. I clicked off two shots, then, in a lightning-fast move, Irene snuggled close to Scott and laid her head against his shoulder, her free hand wrapping around him to rest on his shoulder. I clicked off a few more shots of Scott’s horrified expression, trying not to snicker.
“Let’s try one shaking hands,” I said. “I understand that’s what the chief wants, right, Scott?”
“Yes. He specifically asked for that.” Scott inched away from Irene and she followed.
“If you two could move back into position?” I asked.
Scott inched back toward the center of the seamless, but Irene refused to move, causing them to become very close. They grasped hands, and I clicked off more shots.
“Could I have a few for my own use?” Irene asked.
“Of course,” I said.
Irene must have taken that as permission to change her pose. She got as close to Scott as possible, tossed the plaque to the floor, and laid her hand on his chest, leaning her face close to his. I was a little surprised she didn’t kiss him.
I clicked off a few shots. Later I’d tell her the camera malfunctioned, and the shots didn’t come out. No way was I going to give her pictures of her cuddling with my man. My man? Where the hell did that come from? I’d never been a jealous or possessive person. Not even in my marriage. But something about Irene set off alarms for me.
“That should do it.”
Irene didn’t move, but Scott gently disentangled himself.
“I’ll have these to the chief soon,” I said. I fussed with winding the film and removing the camera from the tripod. “I’ll be right back.” I took the camera to one of the closet-sized dark rooms and removed the film, placing it in a black plastic cylinder and marking the contents and date on the white label. When I came out, Irene was standing as close to Scott as possible without actually melding her body to his. He looked uncomfortable. That was nice.
“Skye, you ready to go?” Scott asked, trying to disentangle himself from Irene’s grip.
“Ready when you are,” I said.
“Irene, can Skye and I walk you to your car?”
I almost laughed at the way her face fell. Then she brightened.
“I thought maybe we could spend some time going over the Frank Johnson case. It’s important that I stay up-to-date on everything.” She smiled at me. “Some of my people don’t understand the need to have a detective from Portland take over a murder case.”
Some of her people? Geez.
“There’s nothing new on the case, but I’ll be happy to meet you tomorrow morning if you like.”
“Oh. I see. Well, that would be fine. How about breakfast? We could meet at the IHOP in Beaverton. They have wonderful pancakes.”
“I might be busy for breakfast. How about I call you around nine?”
Irene’s face fell again. She took a deep breath and reached for her bag. “That would be fine. I’ll be waiting for your call.” With that, she swiveled her hips out of the building.
I turned and looked at Scott. His face was a mixture of horror and relief. He shook his head. “She is the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Really? You’ve never had a woman have a gigantic crush on you before?”
“You think she has a crush on me?” he asked.
“You don’t?”
“Never really thought about it, I guess.”
“Scott. She’s so obvious. Leaning on you. Laying her head on your shoulder. Trying to get you to go with her instead of with me.” Could he be that oblivious?
“No. I don’t think so. I just think she’s a little uncomfortable in social situations, and she’s really obsessed with this murder case.”
Could a man be that stupid? I was poised to question him further, but he changed the direction of our conversation.
“Where do you want to have dinner? You’re all dressed up. Does that mean you’re expecting something special?”
“Well, not as far as dinner is concerned,” I said.
Speedway yipped and jumped, placing his front feet on my leg. I leaned over and picked him up. “Besides, I can’t take this little guy into a restaurant.”
“We could leave him in the car,” Scott suggested.
Speedway whined.
“Let’s get some Chinese and eat at my place,” Scott suggested.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Tcott and I managed to get through an entire evening without being interrupted, which had resulted in some vigorous activity followed by a brief amount of cuddling and hours of blissful sleep. For some reason, I always slept like a rock when I was with Scott. For a while I thought it was due to the feeling of safety that came from having a man around. But then I realized that sleeping with Craig had never had any effect on how I slept. Mostly I was unwilling to explore the reasons any further.
When I woke, I could hear Scott in the kitchen and smell coffee. Possibly there would be a luscious omelet or perhaps bacon and eggs along with the coffee. Speedway was still curled up on the blanket Scott had put on the floor for him. I threw back the covers and stepped into the bathroom to brush my teeth. One look in the mirror made me decide to take a quick shower while I was there. After I toweled off, I pulled a light blue shirt of Scott’s off the hook on the back of the door. When we’d been seeing each other last year, he’d kept that shirt on the hook for me when I came over. I could still smell the faintest hint of my cologne on it and got a little thrill of pleasure that he’d kept it just as I’d left it.
“Hey, lazybones, breakfast is ready,” Scott called from the modest kitchen.
I sauntered into the living area and was rewarded by a lascivious look from Scott. He waggled his eyebrows, which made me laugh. It was easy being with Scott and I was enjoying every minute of it. But I was still concerned that we hadn’t really talked about the reasons we’d stopped seeing each other last year.
“I took the dog out when I got up,” Scott said.
Damn, I’d already forgotten about Speedway. “Thanks. That was nice of you.”
“How long are you going to have him?”
“Until I can get in touch with Peter, I guess.”
“You don’t want to keep him?” Scott asked.
“I don’t have time for a dog. He’s really sweet, but I’m working all the time and dogs need to have someone around.”
“Sheridan could help with that,” he suggested.
I had to admit that Sheridan would probably fall in love with the little dog. In fact, it might be hard to get him away from her once she’d seen him.
“I’m starving.” I hopped up on a stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from his living area. Scott slid an omelet from a large frying pan onto a plate and cut it in half. He must have used half a dozen eggs because it was huge. Swiss cheese oozed from where he’d cut it and I saw bits of onion, tomato, and spinach. My mouth watered and I picked up a fork in anticipation.
Scott set the plate on the counter followed by steaming cups of coffee for us and came around to take the stool next to me.
“So, what’s on your schedule today?” I asked.
“Talking to possible murderers.”
I shook my head. “I guess I never thought of your job that way.”
“Actually, I don’t usually think of it that way, either. I was trying to be funny.” He forked some omelet into his mouth and chewed for a moment. “But, really, it’s something you need to think about.”
“Why?” I had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.
Scott put his cup down and placed a hand over mine. He stared at the plate of omelet and rubbed the back of my hand for a moment. “Because when you involve yourself in my investigations, that’s exactly what you’re doing. Talking to possible murderers.”
“Scott, it’s not like that.”
“Well, yes, it is. Exactly like that. Take this investigation, for instance. I don’t know who killed Frank yet, but I’m fairly certain it’s one of our suspects. It could be Lionel, or Peter. We don’t know. So, you’d be better off if you limited your exposure to them.”
“Well, that’s all well and good. Except I really believe neither of them could have killed Frank. And I can’t just not do my job because someone is a murder suspect. Especially when it’s ridiculous for them to even be considered a suspect in the first place.”
“You finished the job, right?” Scott asked.
“Yes. I finished yesterday.”
“Then you don’t need to be around Lionel or Peter.” He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “And there’s no reason for you to be around any of the other suspects, either.”
I decided to let the topic drop. I didn’t really have a good defense. I didn’t have a defense at all. Other than I really, really didn’t believe either Lionel or Peter could ever kill someone. And Scott’s reasons for suspecting them were flimsy at best. I didn’t tell Scott that, either. Part of me wanted to but another part didn’t want to destroy the fragile reconnection we’d made.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, letting the tension fade. Then Scott glanced at the clock.
“I’d better jump in the shower. Don’t want to be late for my nine-thirty meeting.”
“I’ll clean up,” I offered.
He dropped a kiss on my lips. “You don’t have to. But I’m not saying it isn’t appreciated if you don’t have to leave right away.”
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
Scott went to the bathroom, and I ran hot water in the sink and squirted dish detergent into it. The dishes were done in only a few minutes. Scott was a neat cook, messing up only what he needed and cleaning as he went along. After I dried the last plate and placed it on the shelf, I went to the bedroom to get dressed. Scott stood at the closet door. Naked. I let myself enjoy the view for a moment, then took my clothes off the chair and started dressing. Speedway curled into a tiny ball on his blanket and snoozed. We took advantage of our state of partial undress to share a few kisses and caresses. But Scott’s meeting loomed, so it didn’t go past that.
