Both “beds” were empty, but rumpled pillows and sheets suggested that they had been used recently.
Savannah shut the door behind her and joined Dirk beside the large window.
“So much for the idea that Connor couldn’t have left this room without being seen,” she said.
“Just what I was thinking. Tell everybody not to bother you, hop in and out of the window, and go on about your merry way of murdering your old lady.”
“How?”
He gave her an exasperating, weary look. “One thing at a time, if you don’t mind.”
She turned and glanced around the room. On the far wall was a line of small gray lockers that were secured with assorted padlocks and combination locks.
“Oh, lookie, lookie,” she said. “That one there on the end says MURRAY. And it’s got a padlock.”
Dirk sniffed. “Yeah, but I ain’t got a warrant and my butt’s still sore from the chief chewin’ on it. He hasn’t gotten over us breaking into the Montoya chick’s place yet.”
“Eh, the chief should fall down a flight o’ stairs,” she said, walking over to the locker and fingering the simple padlock.
He said nothing as he watched her examine the mechanism.
“There’s nothing to this,” she said. “I had one of these on my high school gym locker.”
“I could get a warrant,” he said. “Maybe... in a few hours. Of course, by then Nurse Blabbermouth back there at the desk will tell a dozen people we were asking about Murray and that we came into this room. And they’ll tell Nurse Murray, and she’ll get rid of anything in there that might be any good.”
“Ninety seconds,” she whispered... the voice of temptation. “That’s all it’d take me to have her open.”
“I can’t. The chief would be having my oysters fried for dinner.”
Savannah reached into her purse and fumbled around, searching for her lock pick. “Why don’t you go see if you can track down Murray?” she suggested. “And maybe check with security to see if they keep track of what vehicles come and go out of the parking lot. They might have one of those gates where you have to use a card to get in. Or maybe they have a camera set up, showing who’s doing what.”
“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll see if either Connor’s or Murray’s vehicle left during the day.”
“You do that.” She gave him a big grin and a wink. “And I’ll meet you in the lobby in a while.”
“And when we hook up again,” he said, “you can let me know if it would be worth my while to get that search warrant.”
“Oh... let’s just say I’ll be able to give you an informed opinion.”
Half an hour later, Dirk found Savannah sitting on a chair in the lobby, reading a year-old copy of
People
magazine. She had a satisfied smirk on her face that matched the one on his.
“Did you find Murray?” she asked him.
“Nope. Get this: While we were in the locker room, somebody—I can’t imagine who—told her we were there, asking for her. She split, said she had a headache and had to go home.”
“Are you going to put an APB out on her?”
“Not yet. Let’s go by her house and see if she’s there. With any luck, she’ll still be driving her brother’s van.” As they walked out to the visitors’ parking lot, Savannah asked him, “Did you get anything interesting from security?”
“Yeah, I did. Murray left the garage at ten forty-nine that morning and didn’t come back until eleven thirty-five. Connor stayed here,” he said, “according to the cards that they use to get through the gate.”
“Or Connor could have left, using Murray’s card. The record wouldn’t necessarily show what vehicle was being driven.”
“True.”
“Is there a video?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Darn. There’s never a video when you need one.”
“Unless it’s a convenience store that’s being robbed. Then there’s a camera, but some moron forgot to put in a tape. What did you find in the locker? Anything?” She suppressed a chuckle. “Oh, I guess it’s a matter of opinion. But I think so.”
“Talk to me.”
“How about a pair of red clogs, exactly like the ones I saw in Kevin Connor’s living room?”
“We already figured they’re fooling around. That’s old news.”
“How about a pair of men’s jeans... about Kevin Connor’s size... wadded into a ball in the bottom of the locker?”
He shrugged. “I’m not excited, Van. I hate to tell ya, but—”
“What if I told you that those jeans have some suspicious dark brown stains on them?”
“I’m breathin’ hard....”
“And some interesting white lines on the knees that look sorta like tic-tac-toe marks.”
“White lines? Tic-tac-toe?”
“Yeah. Ring a bell?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
‘You said you bleach your toilet and bathroom floor once a week. Haven’t you ever gotten a few drops on what you’re wearing and ruined it?”
“Naw, I clean it when I’m naked, just before I get into the shower.”
She grimaced. “Gee, thanks for the visual I didn’t need. Anyway... trust me, when you’re cleaning a floor with bleach, you don’t want to kneel on the floor with good clothes on.”
He brightened, stopped, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Or you wind up with white marks on your clothes.”
She nodded. “And remember Kameeka’s kitchen floor? It’s tile—those little tiles that are about two inches wide.”
“Are the tic-tac-toe lines on those jeans about two inches wide?”
“Bingo!”
Before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her, pulled her to him, and planted a rough, whisker-bristly, hot and hard kiss on her lips.
And he didn’t release her all that quickly either. She had plenty of time to savor it, think about it, and compare his technique to Ryan’s before he finally let her g°-
Her final analysis was: What Dirk lacked in Ryan’s finesse, he more than made up in raw enthusiasm.
Not bad,
she thought.
Not half bad at all.
As they continued on across the lot, Dirk chatted on brightly, ecstatic about the case’s latest turns—as though nothing unusual had just happened. “I’m gonna get Jake McMurtry to come over here and sit on that locker,” he was saying, “so that nobody unscrupulous breaks into it before I can get that search warrant. We don’t want those jeans to take a walk.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I’m gonna swing by your place and drop you off on my way to Murray’s house. I don’t want her to see you, face to face, just yet. We might need to use you in some other ‘nonofficial’ capacity later, and we don’t want her to know that we’re a team.”
“Hm-m-m....”
When they reached the Buick, Dirk was still scheming, joyfully plotting the demises of Charlotte Murray and Kevin Connor—a very happy boy.
But for the moment, Savannah had forgotten all about the investigation. She was too busy wondering at the odds of her getting kissed—and kissed very well, indeed—by her two favorite guys in one week.
Gran's right
, she thought.
Wonders never cease.
Chapter
22
“W
here’s my sister?” Savannah asked Tammy when she walked into her living room and didn’t see Marietta attached to the telephone.
“Upstairs taking a bath,” Tammy replied as she shuffled a pile of papers on the desk.
“How’s she doing?” Savannah was afraid to ask, but even if the news was bad, it was best to be informed. “She’s singing.”
“The blues?”
“No. She’s actually really cheerful. And I’m pretty sure that I heard her packing in the guest room earlier.” Savannah held her breath, barely daring to hope. “Really? Don’t mess with my head, girl. I’m much too fragile right now.”
“Really. And I thought I overheard her phoning the airline earlier. I think she’s Georgia bound.”
“And happy about it?”
As though to answer her question, a voice drifted downward from the upstairs bathroom. It was Sister Mari, in fine form.
“‘I ne-e-ever got over those blue eyes. I se-e-ee them e-e-everywhere,’ ” she wailed, murdering the old Johnny Cash ballad. Splash, splash. ‘“I mi-i-is those arms that held me... when a-l-l-l the love was the-e-ere!’ ”
Savannah tried to mentally assemble the puzzle that was her sister and, as usual, couldn’t quite put the pieces together. “How can she be this happy about going home?” she asked Tammy. “I was threatening to lock her out the other night, and you should have seen the hissy fit she threw. And now...”
“‘I wo-o-onder if he’s sor-r-ry, for le-e-eaving what we’d begun,’ ” continued the concert upstairs.
Savannah shook her head. “Go figure. I’m going to eat some lunch, fuel up. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long afternoon.”
By the time Marietta had finished her bath and countless verses of her song, Savannah and Tammy had eaten their lunch, and Savannah had filled Tammy in on all the newest developments.
“He’s gone out to Murray’s house to pick her up if she’s there,” Savannah told her. “And I think I’ll buzz over to Charlotte’s brother’s place and do some plain, old-fashioned surveillance.”
A cloud of jasmine-scented perfume arrived in the kitchen a few seconds before Marietta appeared, wrapped in a red chiffon robe over a black lace teddy. Her carefully poofed hair and meticulously applied makeup hadn’t been disturbed during the long bath.
And, as well as smelling like the cosmetic counter of a drugstore, she was beaming from ear to ear.
“Good afternoon!” she said, giving Savannah the full radiance of her smile. “How are you this fine, fine day?”
“O-o-okay,” Savannah replied suspiciously. “Boy, aren’t We chipper.”
“Chipper? My cup of joy is just plain boiling over!”
Savannah glanced down at the teddy’s built-in pushup bra and the abundance of cleavage swelling above it. “I can see that,” she said. “Both cups, in fact. What’s up... besides your boobs?”
“I’m going home! This evening!”
“And that’s good news?” Savannah asked.
“It’s the best! I’m going home to my own true love. I was on the wrong road, but now I’ve seen the light.”
“You have?”
Tammy cleared her throat. “Would you like me to leave? I have some work that I can—”
“No, stay if you wanna,” Marietta said. “I’ve gotta run upstairs and finish packing.”
“But... but what about What’s-His-Nose... the chat-room guy?” Savannah asked.
“Oh, he turned out to be such a mistake. What a loser!” Marietta waved one hand, displaying bright red, dragonlady nails with white glitter hearts. “But it’s worked out for good in the end. You see, when my darlin’ back home found out that I’d come out here to California in search of what he couldn’t give me, he called and proclaimed his love to me again.”
“Again? Your darlin’ back home?” Alarm bells jangled Savannah’s nerves. ‘You don’t mean—”
“Yes, my sweet Lester. He’s finally come to his senses, and he says if I’ll just come back home, he’ll leave that worthless Lucille. He’s done some soul searching, and he says he’s actually getting to the point where he can start to think about dumping her once and for all.”
“Oh, Mari, I don’t think—”
“He just didn’t know what he had with me till he heard I was gone, you know. He called and said that the thought of me being here with another man was just too much for him to bear. It was driving him plum crazy.”
“Wouldn’t take much,” Savannah muttered under her breath. “Lester’s always been a little short on smarts where his women are concerned.”
“Now don’t you even start with me, Miss Savannah Smarty-Pants. You don’t know squat about the deep, dark matters of the heart. And you don’t know what I should or shouldn’t do because you ain’t me!”
Savannah stood and scooped up her dishes from the table. “You’re absolutely right, Marietta. I’m not you. Excuse me for a minute. I have to go find that tube of Super Glue. I’m going to apply it to my mouth like it was lip gloss. That way I’ll refrain from telling you how stupid I think it is for you to go back home and take up again with a married man... a man whose wife already tried to blow you up with a shotgun.” She stopped, clapped her hands over her mouth, and said, “Oops. Too late.”
She tossed her dishes into the sink and went upstairs to the bathroom. She needed to brush her teeth. She needed to wash her face. She needed to dunk her head under water three times and bring it up twice.
But the moment she stepped into the bathroom, she nearly fainted. It had to be over a hundred degrees in there and as humid as a Mississippi swamp in July. The only thing missing was the mosquitoes.
“Good Lord, Mari,” she mumbled. “Were you taking yourself a
tub
bath or a
steam
bath? A body can’t hardly breathe in here.”
It didn’t take her long to see the cause of the problem; Marietta had turned on the overhead heat lamp and had neglected to turn it off when she’d left the room.