“Right by the Eighth.”
“Huh?”
“The police station.”
“Yeah. Coffee and Concierge, something weird like that. Is five-fifteen okay?”
“Wait a minute. I don’t know a damn thing about installing software—do you think you can explain it in a way I can understand?’
He was quiet a moment. “You know, I’m not really sure.”
“What if I bring along a nerd friend?’
“I have to admit I’d feel better.”
She phoned Jimmy Dee, explained the situation, and asked if he’d mind acting as translator.
“Charmed, I’m sure. In fact, perfect. My car’s having surgery; you can pick me up.”
She had one more thing to do before she could leave—report to Cappello and make arrangements for that night.
The sergeant frowned. “So. You really think these babes are Satanists?’
“That thing at Lenore’s spooked me. Bad.” She shrugged. “I’ve researched it a little. If they are, killing Geoff could be one crime in a long list of them.”
“Who do you want for backup? Hodges okay?”
Skip broke into a grin. “Perfect.”
Jim Hodges was an older black man, solid as a concrete wall—a tough pro who’d seen it all and carried pictures of his grandchildren.
“You got him.” Cappello shook her head, obviously not liking the turn the investigation was taking.
JIMMY DEE KEPT Skip waiting ten minutes in front of his office, her motor running, her temper rising. “Dammit Dee-Dee, this is a business appointment.”
“Well. Aren’t we Miss Congeniality.”
He could make her smile even when she was angry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“You probably think you’re suffering from lack of sleep.”
“Uh-oh. This is leading up to something.”
“Precious angel, you’ve been bitten by the lovebug.”
“You mean Darryl Boucree? He’s black, Dee-Dee.”
“And beautiful—or didn’t you notice?”
“Remember in
Jungle Fever
how shocked the guy’s friend is when he says he’s seeing a white woman? Darryl Boucree wouldn’t go out with me.”
He stuck out his hand. “Oh, yeah? Fifty bucks says otherwise.”
“Anyway, there’s Steve.”
“
Isn’t
there?”
She looked at her watch. “Damn! It’ll probably take ten minutes to park.”
“Let me. You go handcuff the guy or something.”
“Okay.” She turned the car over to him.
Layne was just draining a cup of espresso. “I thought you’d forgotten.”
“My friend was late. Would you like something else?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Aren’t you pleased I’m doing what you said?”
“What?”
“You said I should get out more.”
“Congratulations. I think your color’s coming back.”
“Here’s the thing.” He handed over a package of software, which she opened immediately.
“Oh, no. Those big floppies. I have the little ones.”
“Oh. Nerds always have both kinds because we get stuff from lots of different sources. But it’s not a big deal. You can still upload it, you just need the hardware to make the transfer.”
“Jimmy Dee probably has it.”
“Who, me?” He came in jangling her keys.
“Dee-Dee, you’re in the nick. This is Layne Bilderback. Jimmy Dee Scoggin.”
She bought Jimmy Dee a latte, and for the next ten minutes, the two men spoke a language she didn’t.
“No problem. Piece of cake,” Dee-Dee said finally.
“Great.” She looked at her watch. “Should we get going? You still have to cook.”
“God, yes. Anyway, I’m worried about Sheila. She could be halfway to Chicago by now.” He stood and spoke to Layne. “You have kids?”
Layne grinned. “Uh-uh. Times like this I’m glad I’m gay.”
“Don’t get too cocky, son. It’s not over till it’s over.”
“Darling,” said Dee-Dee when they were back in Skip’s car, “I simply can’t keep track of all your men.”
“Well, that one’s a murder suspect.”
“Pretty friendly for a desperado.”
“Probably just trying to butter me up.” She thought about Layne. “He is nice, though. It’s hard being a cop sometimes.”
“I’m crying. Has he gainful employment?”
“Employment anyway. He’s a puzzlemaker. Or puzzle constructor, as he prefers to be called.”
“He’s pretty open about his preferences, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, come on, Dee-Dee, tell me you didn’t know.”
“Well, I was hoping.”
“What? You liked him? You never like anyone.”
“Pish-tush. I would trek to the North Pole to get Darryl Boucree a sliver of ice for his Coke.”
“I mean… this seems different.”
“Young Mr. Bilderback has taken my fancy.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t believe this.”
“You think he’s single?”
“Dee-Dee, he’s a murder suspect. Remember Sheila and Kenny.”
“We’re not getting married, for God’s sake. Not for months yet.”
She honestly couldn’t tell if he was just carrying on (as was his wont) or if he was genuinely interested.
As was
her
wont, she entered her apartment throwing off clothes. As soon as she had stripped down to panties and bra, her doorbell sounded.
“Who is it?” she hollered.
“Darryl Boucree.”
She pulled on a robe and stepped out on her balcony. “Darryl! What are you doing here?”
“Got a present for Sheila.”
“Well, aren’t you nice. Hang on a second.”
She wriggled into a pair of jeans and looked around for her red sweater. It wasn’t anywhere.
She picked up another, but it was drab brown. No good. She hunted some more, down under the bed, in the closet, before it occurred to her what she was doing.
What do you care about Darryl Boucree?
she asked herself.
She slipped on the brown sweater, but took time to fluff up her hair.
I guess I care.
When she had walked downstairs, and actually stood in his presence, the breadth of his chest, the way it moved inside his sweater, the pull of him, almost a smell, she thought, made her oddly happy.
Watch out! Testosterone is the world’s most dangerous drug. Get one molecule on you and you’re helpless
.
It was too late. She was covered with it.
Drenched.
She didn’t need this; didn’t want it, didn’t welcome it. So why did she feel so happy?
The rapture of the deep, I guess.
When she spoke, her voice sounded thin. “Hi.” He held her gaze as long as she was willing to let him. She broke away first.
“How you doin’?”
“Remember Cindy Lou? My friend from last night? She talks about being evil. That’s how I’m doing.”
“Need your eight hours, huh?”
“How about you?”
He shrugged. “Half a teacher’s better than none. In fact the kids think it’s better than one.”
She laughed. “Let’s go over to the Big House.”
“Okay.”
“Sheila. Sheila! Look who I’ve got.”
Sheila poked her head out “Darryl.” She came flying down the hall and flung her arms around him, something she never did with Skip or Jimmy Dee. “How you doin’, dude?”
“Gimme five.”
For an eternity or so, they slapped each other’s palms in the complex hand jive that kids and black males are so crazy about.
“Who’s out there?” Jimmy Dee emerged, now in jeans, polo shirt, and determined-dad look. His face split in a grin when he saw who’d arrived. “Auntie Skip and Uncle Darryl. You’re staying for dinner, of course.”
Darryl grinned back. “Best offer I’ve had today.”
Sheila said, “You haven’t had his cooking yet.”
Skip and Jimmy Dee caught each other’s eyes. Sheila had actually cracked a joke. Skip looked back at her to make sure she was kidding.
No question: there was a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Suppose you cook tonight, young lady,” said Jimmy Dee. “How’s your
coq au vin
?”
“Cocoa what?”
Skip looked at her watch. “I have to be out of here in forty-five minutes. Tell me you’re not making
coq au vin
.”
“Okay. I’m not. Geneese made some gumbo. All we have to do is heat it up.”
Skip said, “I’ll start the rice.”
Kenny had come in, and was standing shyly against a wall. “Hey, sport,” said Darryl. “What’s your name?”
“Kenny.” He smiled his sweet little smile, the one that made all adults love him and Sheila want to kill him.
“I’m Darryl. Gimme five.”
They played pat-a-cake for nearly as long as it took to cook the rice and by the time they were finished, Darryl had another disciple.
Skip busied herself peeling cucumbers and washing lettuce while Jimmy Dee set the table.
It’s like a family,
she thought.
We’re finally having fun
.
Dee-Dee was beside himself, but also nervous as a bride. He knew, as Skip did, that Darryl was the glue holding it together, and who knew who Darryl was? He was still a stranger she’d met in a bar, or maybe a guardian angel who’d come down and tapped her on the shoulder.
Well, what the hell, depending on the kindness of strangers made this city famous
.
Sheila tugged at Darryl. “Hey, where’s my present?”
“In my backpack. What’d I do with it?”
Sheila ran to get it.
Kenny was leaning against a wall, looking melancholy.
“Bet you’d like a present too, sport.”
He looked around, as if sure Darryl were talking to some other kid. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. You want a present?”
Kenny smiled his smile. “Sure.”
“Well, I got somethin’ for you.”
Sheila handed Darryl his pack. He fumbled around for what seemed an inordinate amount of time, and when he pulled his hand out a different rubber monster head sat on each finger, now waving fiercely in Kenny’s face.
The boy laughed out loud. So did Skip and Jimmy Dee. And even Sheila.
“You want these?” He caught Kenny’s nose with two of them. “Want ’em? Huh?”
Kenny was so enchanted he could only nod.
“And now for Ms. Sheila. Well, I got you something really special. But I better tell you, it’s something you’re probably not expecting.”
She nodded, radiant in her anticipation.
“It may even be something you think you don’t want.”
“Oh, I’ll want it. I know I’ll want it.”
“Even if it’s a—”
“A what?”
“1 can’t tell you. You’re going to be mad.”
“I won’t be mad, I promise. I promise I won’t be mad.”
“Okay, it’s a book.”
“A what?” She couldn’t conceal her disappointment.
“See, I knew you’d be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I could… read a book.” She wanted desperately to please him.
A truly wonderful sign. She never wants to please either of us
.
“Even if it’s about a boy?”
“A boy?” Her voice said,
What on Earth are you thinking?
“You gotta trust me, Sheila. Even though it’s a book and even though it’s about a boy, it’s going to change your life. You’re going to read this and think,
There’s somebody out there who understands.”
“
Catcher in the Rye
,” the other adults said together, and instantly realized it was a tactical error. They were the enemy; if they liked it, it couldn’t be good.
But Darryl turned to them: “Now how did you two know that?”
“Saved my ass,” said Jimmy Dee.
“Mine too.”
Kenny said, “I didn’t think grown-ups were supposed to talk like that.”
“Anybody who reads this book,” said Darryl solemnly, “can talk any way they want from now on.”
“Hold it a minute,” said Jimmy Dee. “You don’t have to live with these two.”
“Yeah, but you know it doesn’t matter what I say now. Because you can’t stop anybody after they’ve read it, can you? They come out a whole different person, don’t they?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll read the damn book.”
“Sheila!” said Kenny. “You’re not supposed to cuss.”
“Darryl said I could cuss.”
“Only if you read the book.”
Skip sighed:
Back to normal.
But still. It was the most peaceful—in fact, the most downright enjoyable—dinner she and Jimmy Dee had ever had with the kids.
Too bad Darryl’s already got two jobs, she thought. He’d be the nanny of the century.
“Margaret where are you off to tonight?”
“Oh, a little something on the case.”
“Policeman’s work is never done.”
“This lady’s no policeman,” said Darryl. “She might be the heat but I got eyes.”
Eyes like lasers. Get ’em off me before I rip your clothes off in front of the kids.
“Gotta go,” she said. “Darryl, nice to see you. Thanks for coming by.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Skip. Pleasure’s all mine.” He stared unabashedly as he said it, and she felt her sweater go over her head, her zipper go down in his mental movie.
Beads of sweat are going to pop out of my forehead,
she thought, saw Jimmy Dee’s amused look, and was pretty sure they already had.
She’d agreed to meet Hodges at headquarters. He was going to drive, since none of the women had seen him; Skip could scrunch down in her seat if she had to.
Driving over, she thought,
What’s with this Darryl? What does he want? Surely not me
.
And yet she hoped against hope that he did.
What about Steve?
Damn Steve!
She picked up Hodges and gave him directions to Kit’s house. They followed her as she picked up Suby (who came out carrying a large tote bag), crossed the Causeway, drove to Covington, and then turned onto a small country road. That was bad—there were very few cars, which meant they had a good chance of being seen.
They stayed as far behind as they dared, and when they no longer heard Kit’s motor, they parked, hoping the other car had stopped rather than surged ahead.
Skip started to open her door, but heard another car behind her. Both she and Hodges ducked, and as it passed, she saw Lenore riding shotgun.
Wonder what she does with Caitlin
? Skip was reminded suddenly of Marguerite, out every night when Geoff was a small boy.
She and Hodges waited another fifteen minutes, too keyed up even to talk. A few more cars passed, then all was quiet.