Obsession (Southern Comfort) (35 page)

Let him go.  Asshole.

But then next door, James thought that he heard the slow squeal of a slider easing along the tracks.  The gnome lady.  His luck being what it was tonight, she probably had a gun.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor in this case, James hustled after Corelli, found him standing on the other side of a ho
le in the fence.  The man motioned with his head, and – silent – James followed him through a couple of back yards then into an alley where his SUV was parked.

“Get in,” he said, and James hesitated.  He heard the wail of sirens.

Rolling his eyes, Corelli climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.  When he shifted into drive, James muttered “Screw it” and climbed in beside him.

The other man drove sedately, turning o
ff the police scanner in favor of the radio, which he cranked up.  He turned onto the main street, singing along with The Doors as a patrol car sped toward them.

When it passed, the man glanced in the rearview mirror, then made a couple of quick turns, until they ended up in the parking lot of a convenience store.  Shutting off the engine – and Jim Morrison – he shifted his body toward James and said: “Talk.”

James blinked.  Reluctantly, he found himself impressed.  “I thought you used to be a cop.”

“I was.”

“So why were you dodging them like that.”

“Because I don’t feel like wasting the rest of my evening answering uncomfortable questions.  Now.”  He tilted his head.  “What were you doing trying to break into Joe Palmer’s apartment?”
           

James considered.  He still wasn’t sure he trusted this man.  “First, let me see your shoes.”

“What is it with you and my footwear?”  Blowing out a breath, he lifted one booted foot.  “Here, knock yourself out.”

James tilted his head.  “What are you, about a
n eleven?”

“Yes.  Do you have a fetish?  Or is this a quest of some sort,
like searching for the six-fingered man?  Should I call you Inigo Montoya?”

James studied the night dark eyes of Kathleen Murphy’s ex-boyfriend.  Other than a trace of exasperation, they appeared inscrutable.  “People generally don’t get past my guard,” he said
, still miffed that the man had been able to bring him – literally – to his knees.

Corelli shrugged.
“You’re a big guy, so you’re used to using your size to your advantage. I anticipated, and had to use my speed to mine.”

“The pressure point thing. Is that
martial arts?”

“It’s called Dim Mak
.”

“Huh. My brother – not Justin, but the next oldest
, Jordan.  He’s a black belt.  I guess I should have paid more attention when he tried to show me stuff.  I was more interested in football.”

“Like I said, you’re a big guy.  Big guys often forget they’re not invincible. 
I was fairly small growing up – didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was about eighteen – so I had to learn how to take the big guys down before they could knock me flat. Came in handy when I was a cop.  Now.” He glanced in the mirrors, seemed satisfied by what he saw, then turned back to James.  “If we’re all done getting to know each other, how about you tell me what you’re up to.”

After another moment’s consideration, James nodded.  “Okay.  I was trying to see if Joe Palmer left any shoes behind when he skipped town.”

“Shoes again.  What’s that all about?”

Figuring at least the first bit was a matter of police record – which Anthony could probably find out – James told him about the break-in,
the shower curtain, the shoeprint in the paint.

Anthony scratched his chin.  “What makes you think that Joe Palmer would want to break into your brother’s house?”

“I don’t know.  This is more of a process of elimination.”  He hesitated, then figured he might as well mention the other.  Corelli’s reaction might say a lot.  “There were identical shoeprints – the same size, same tread – outside Kathleen’s apartment the other morning.  In the snow beneath the window.  Justin found them when he woke up.”

Corelli’s hand stilled.  Then he shot a sardonic look at James.  “If you’re waiting for me to be shocked
by the fact that Kathleen and your brother are having sleepovers, or to fly into a rage, you’ll be sitting there a long time.  But now the interest in my shoe size begins to make sense.”

“Justin stole your woman.”

Corelli laughed.  “Kathleen would love
that
particular description of events.  Look.” He smiled, although it was more of a look of pity.  “Kathleen is fantastic.  I hold her dear to my heart.  But if I had considered her
my woman,
rather than just a great woman with whom I happened to be involved, then your brother would be a smear on the pavement, as opposed to simply sporting a black eye.  And I sure as hell wouldn’t sneak into his house and play mind games with him, or loiter on Kathleen’s doorstep in the freaking snow.  Do I look like a pussy to you?”

Well, now that he mentioned it… “Not really.”
       

“Good.”  He shook his head.
  Then his expression turned thoughtful.  “This is odd, though.  The thing with the shoeprints, I mean.”

“Why were
you
hanging around Joe Palmer’s apartment?”

Anthony frowned.  “Kathleen hired me.”

“For what?”

“
None of your business.”  But he sighed.  “Look, I know how this sounds, but I really do care about her.  That thing with the doll in her trunk?  That scared her.  And worse, it hurt her. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So you’re investigating it yourself?”

His skepticism must have been apparent. “Sort of like you’re doing,” Corelli said.  “Because you care about your brother.” 

“Point taken.  Although a sibling and an ex-girlfriend are two entirely different things.”

Corelli waved that away.  “Caring is caring.”  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  “Now, the question is: what do these two seemingly disparate events – the break-in at your brother’s house and the trespassing at Kathleen’s – have in common?”

“Maybe Joe Palmer is harassing Justin to get to Kathleen.  Sort of a,
you messed with my lover, I’ll mess with yours
thing.”

Anthony frowned.  “But you said the shower curtain was shredded? And that Justin’s ex put it there
, and that was the catalyst, I guess you’d call it, for their breakup?”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t make sense if Palmer is the trespasser. We thought it was Mandy – Justin’s ex – but then the shoe prints don’t make sense. 
Way too big.  And, uh, just so you know, Justin’s ex… she’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah.  Overdose, I think.  Looks like she might have committed suicide.  Kathleen is investigating, but she can’t tell Justin what’s going on, considering he’s the woman’s ex, and there’s been a lot of conflict between them – Justin and Mandy, that is – the past couple of weeks.”

“T
hat’s… unfortunate.”

“Justin’s pretty torn up.”

“Well, your brother’s a good guy.  I mean that,” Corelli said when James narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t think he was a good guy, we’d be back to the smear on the pavement again.  The conflict,” Corelli asked.  “Just standard nasty breakup stuff?”

Again, James hesitated.  But once more, reminded himself that this was all a matter of police record.

“It’s a little worse than that.” He told him about the thing with the coffee, the random little gifts, the sugar in the gas tank.  “The police have been questioning her, and she didn’t take that too kindly.”

Corelli’s whistle was low.  “Wow.  Well,
I can understand your concern.”

He drummed his fingers again.  “
There seems to be a whirlwind of sorts swirling around Kathleen and your brother.  And how the hell does the waitress fit in,” he murmured. 

“What?”

“Sorry.”  He looked at James.  “Thinking to myself.”

“Wh
at waitress?”

The other man straightened, then started the car.  “Tell me where you’re parked and I’ll drop you off.”

“What waitress?”

Anthony flicked a glance his way. 
“Look kid, I really do appreciate your concern, but –”

“I’m not a kid.  I’m twenty-five.”
Almost.

“Yeah, well, I’m thirty
-five, so talk to me in ten years.  I’m also a professional, so how about leaving the investigating to me?”

“Maybe because I don’t trust you?”

Corelli laughed.  “Even after all of that talk about our childhoods and our feelings? At least you’re not stupid.  Reckless,” he concluded.  “But not stupid.”

James yanked on the reins to stop his temper from rearing.   “Look, I may not be a professional, but like you said, I’m not stupid.  Also, unlike you, my ego isn’t involved.  Say what you will, but I
know,
however okay you are mentally with my brother making time with your ex-girlfriend, there’s a part of you that would like to see him fall flat on his face.  Because no man – I don’t care how secure or how enlightened or whatever he is – no man likes the idea of coming in second.  So, maybe you haven’t been actively sabotaging Justin and harassing Kathleen for your own nefarious purposes, but that doesn’t mean I trust you to look into this with an unbiased eye.  There’s some serious shit going down here – I haven’t even told you all of it – and too many different people with too many different jurisdictions are investigating, but they’re not talking to each other, so that’s like trying to work out a puzzle when all of the pieces are in different rooms, and you’re not allowed to put them together.  That’s fucking stupid, so I’m going to do what I can to figure this out myself, before something else happens to my brother.”

Corelli was silent for a solid minute, the sound of the tires swishing over damp pavement the only accompaniment to James’ heavy breathing.

And okay, maybe he hadn’t
completely
reined in his temper.

Corelli finally glanced his way.  “What else?”

“That’s not enough?”

“I mean what else haven’t you told me? You said there was more.”

James looked out the window.  Then he turned to face Corelli.  “If I tell you, I want you to let me help.  To keep me in the loop.”

“Look.” The other man’s tone was patient, and scraped along James’ nerves.  “You raise a valid point about jurisdiction, which is one of the main drawbacks to
traditional law enforcement, because it can impede investigation.  However, being private now, I’m not quite as … restricted. And I understand your desire to help.  But –”

“Whatever you’re going to say, you can save it.  I’m doing this, with or without you.”

“Without me, you would be sitting in a cell right now, charged with breaking and entering.”

“
I know a good lawyer.”

Corelli shook his head
, exasperation apparent.  “How about I make you a deal.  You tell me everything you know.  I’ll try to get all the puzzle pieces into one room, and if I find out anything pertinent, I’ll make sure to pass it along. 
And.”
He shot James a hard look.  “You do
not
attempt to commit any more felonies.”

“How about misdemeanors?”

When the older man scowled, James grinned.  “Okay.  My truck’s parked over there,” he said, pointing to the next street.

“Do we have a deal?”

James considered.  “Deal,” he agreed.

For now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

JUSTIN
tossed his mail on the kitchen table.  He’d been neglecting the mailbox for a couple of days, so the pile was fairly sizeable. 

Deciding to deal with it later, he started to head toward the refrigerator for a drink
, then detoured back to the alarm panel by the door.  If he’d gone to the trouble of having the thing installed he might as well use it.  James knew the code, so he wouldn’t set it off whenever he came in.

Justin frowned.  He wondered what his brother was up to.  James was twenty-five, and his own man, but Justin still found himself worrying occasionally.  Especially since the youngest Wellington currently had a lot of free time on his hands.  Historically, James and free time were not a good combination.

Not that James hadn’t matured.  He had.  And he’d absolutely been a big help around the house, Justin admitted, eyeing the new kitchen counter. 

But his baby brother had a knack for getting himself into scrapes.  True, he generally emerged none the worse for wear, but it was hell on the nerves of those who loved him.  It was amazing that neither of his parents had turned
stone gray – or suffered a breakdown – after raising James to adulthood.  Not that his other brothers had been angels, but James sometimes lacked… caution.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Justin pulled out the blue crotchless underwear as Exhibit A
.  God only knew where James had obtained them.  Or why he’d felt the need to store them in Justin’s pocket.