Tease Me (2 page)

Her ladies, he knew, was how she referred to her clients at A Cut Above, the hair
salon and minispa she’d owned and managed for the last seven years in the nearby retirement
village of Sunset Shores. Minerva Cooper owned the café next door and was Lillian’s
best friend.

He relaxed. Minerva was about the same age as Lillian, seventy-two. And the average
age of her clientele was about eighty. How much trouble could they be in? “I have
some very reliable, discreet contacts who would be more than will—”

She shook her head. “No. It has to be you. I could be wrong about this, and I need
some proof before I decide how to handle it. I’m not involving some stranger.”

“What exactly do you think they’ve done?”

She leaned closer and whispered, “About a month ago I went out back to throw some
boxes away and I saw Minerva, along with Bernice Henshaw and Betty Louise Strickmeyer,
talking to this … man.”

“We’re alone, Lillian. You don’t have to whisper. What was so suspicious about the
guy?”

“He was young—”

“How young? Late twenties, early thirties? Older than a college kid, younger than
you?”

She ignored his scowl. “He had long hair slicked back into a ponytail. He was dressed
nicely enough: pleated pants, nice shirt, tie, but it was all in black.”

“It’s not a crime to wear black, Lillian. Even in Florida. Stupid maybe, sweaty certainly.”

Lillian glared at him. “There was something about him. I can’t put my finger on it.
He wasn’t … normal.”

“Normal compared to what?”

She swatted him. “And he was rather animated.”

Tucker rubbed his shoulder. “Angry?”

“Well, no. More like excited, but not happy excited. I couldn’t see the ladies’ faces.
But I’m telling you it was strange. I know everyone around Sunset Shores, but I’d
never seen him before. And they were talking in the alley as if it was a secret.”

“Have you talked to them about it?”

“Heavens, no! I didn’t want them to think I was snooping.”

He looked at her.

She huffed. “Okay, so I did poke around a bit. I didn’t want to embarrass them or
anything, so I asked a few leading questions, gave them a few openings, but they never
mentioned him or anything else unusual. Not even Minerva.”

Which had obviously hurt Lillian’s feelings. He squeezed her hand. “Maybe he was lost
and asking for directions.”

“That doesn’t explain why they were all out there in the first place. Minerva had
reason to be behind her café. But what were Bernice and Betty Louise doing back there?”

“I’m sure there is a simple explanation. One chance meeting with a strange character
doesn’t mean they’re involved in—”

“I’m not some silly, senile old woman, Tucker. I know what I saw. And it wasn’t only
that one meeting. There was another incident.”

He swallowed a sigh. She was serious about this. “Another ‘incident’?”

“I decided to talk to Minerva’s niece, Lainey. You know, I told you about her. She
moved down here about two years ago to help poor Minerva out when she got pneumonia.
When her aunt got better, Lainey decided to stay on. Not that I blame her. She’d just
gone through a real nasty divorce. Oh, the mess she left back in Philly.” Lillian
whistled. “I tell you, from what Minerva told me, that ex-husband of hers, Conrad,
was a real spineless toad. Couldn’t even stand up to his own mother. And did I tell
you about the mother?” She rolled her eyes. “Well, you would not believe—”

“Whoa, whoa. Let’s get back to the ‘incident.’ ”

Lillian frowned. Tucker knew she hated to have good gossip interrupted. “If you’d
visit more often, you’d be more up-to-date on this stuff. I—”

“Lillian.”

She glared at him. “Okay, okay. Anyway, as I was saying, I couldn’t put it out of
my mind, so I decided to talk with Lainey, but I didn’t want Minerva to know. I know
Lainey goes to Big Sam’s early on Saturday to get something for the fish special,
so I met her there. Or I would have. I was getting out of my car when I saw her across
the street.” She smacked his leg for emphasis. “She was talking to the same man!”

He rubbed his thigh. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Ol’ buzzard eyes, remember?”

He didn’t bother trying to look repentant.

“And they were arguing.”

“Did you confront her about it?”

“Didn’t get the chance. She was obviously upset, but
he didn’t seem to care. He said something to her, then walked off. Before I could
get to her, she jumped into her car and left. This was last week. I’ve been too busy
to get her alone again.”

Tucker still wasn’t all that concerned, but it was obvious that Lillian was. “Did
you tell anyone else about this?”

“No. If the grapevine here got their hands on a satellite, they could put CNN out
of business. Word would get out one way or another, and that’s the last thing I want.
I wouldn’t want to put any of them in danger. Someone could get hurt.”

“No one is going to get hurt. There isn’t any danger—”

“We won’t know that for sure until I get more information.” She somehow managed to
look up at him and yet down her nose at the same time. “And don’t tell me you don’t
have the time to help.” She sighed and made that annoying tsking sound. “Forty years
old and jobless. You should thank me. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Thirty-nine. And I’m hardly hurting. The sale on MMSI was finalized barely a week
ago. I’m on vacation.”

“And then what?”

He’d been afraid she’d ask that. But this was not the time to explain how deeply affected
he’d been by his business partner and friend Peter Manson’s tragically early death.
How Tucker had looked in the mirror the morning after Pete’s funeral and seen an almost-forty-year-old
man who was heading in the same direction. Life had somehow passed him by. Like Pete,
work had become his life. There was no wife—trophy, ex, or otherwise—no children of
any decimal percentage, no oversized dog to
dig holes in the yard he also didn’t have. He needed a new life. He needed a life,
period.

Lansdorf had called later that morning and offered him an out. With no plan, no parachute,
he’d taken the offer, and he hadn’t regretted it. He looked at Lillian’s determined
face. Not yet, anyway.

“This won’t take more than a week or two,” she said.

“Lillian—”

“A little undercover work.”

His eyebrows narrowed. “Undercover?”

Her eyes brightened. “It hit me when I ran into that gorgeous young masseur while
I was trying to find you. Stephan, I believe he said his name was. Those Swedes have
such incredible blue eyes.…” Her eyes started to glaze over.

“Lillian?” He snapped his fingers.

She looked at him with a smile that made him nervous. “It’s really the perfect idea.
No one at the shop knows you. They might question your name since I have been known
to talk about you, but I can deal with that. Of course, you could always be Lance
or something.”

Lance? Tucker closed his eyes and counted to ten.

Lillian gave him a small punch in the shoulder. “Stop worrying. I have it all figured
out.”

Tucker rubbed his arm, thinking quickly. But any last-ditch evasive maneuvers died
on the planning table when she added, “You said yourself that I’m the only family
you’ve got. Surely you can do me this one small favor.”

He felt eight years old again. She’d been there for him then, when no one else had.
The childhood summers he’d spent with her in Florida after his mom died had been his
salvation. There might not be a blood tie between them,
but she was the only family he had. And she’d never asked him for a single thing.

Still … Undercover in a beauty shop? A beauty shop for blue hairs? He sighed. It was
only for a week or two.

“Yes, Aunt Lillian.”

ONE

At the jingle of the tiny door bells, Madelaine Cooper looked up from the counter,
where she was cutting the day’s pie special, key lime, into narrow slices. She smiled
as two of Aunt Minnie’s Wednesday-morning regulars came through the door. “Hello,
Irma. Hi, Ida.” She made a kissing noise at the miniature pinscher peeking his black,
pointy-eared head out from Ida’s oversized purse. “And good morning to you, Mr. Maxwell.”

Instead of receiving the usual chorus of friendly hellos and a yip from Mr. Max on
the way to “their” table, the identical twin sisters rushed to the counter. “Rushed”
was a relative term. At eighty-two they wouldn’t set any land-speed records.

Always the competitive one, Irma hit the linoleum counter first. Rapping it with the
handle of her cane, she announced, “Lainey, you won’t believe what Lillian has gone
and done.”

Ida ambled up, slightly out of breath. “Came out first and has never waited for me
since.”

“Zip it, Ida. I let you get combed out first this morning, didn’t I?”

Ida patted her steel-blue helmet of hair. “Yes, but only because you wanted to grill
that poor, sweet shampoo girl, Lisette, on the new masseur.”

Irma harrumphed. It was a sound Lainey hadn’t really thought possible until she’d
met the older-by-one-full-minute Armbruster sister. Irma glared at Ida. “
I
wanted to tell her.”

Ida suddenly discovered that Mr. Maxwell needed a loving pat and a treat from her
pocketbook. But Lainey didn’t miss the small, victorious smile.

Lainey swallowed her own smile when she caught Irma glaring at her. “So Lillian finally
found a new masseuse? Have you made an appointment yet? I know how much you both adored
your sessions with Helga.”

Ida sighed in reverence. “My, yes. She was wonderful.”

“That’s just it,” Irma put in. “It’s not a Helga.”

The Scandinavian woman had been gone for close to a year, but the ladies still talked
about her departure as if it had happened yesterday. It had been all the scandal when
she’d run off with Hector Wadlow, the newly widowed owner of Wadlow’s Hardware. Hector’s
wife had been a steady client of Helga’s, which had naturally led to detailed speculation
over what exactly had caused poor Mrs. Wadlow’s heart attack. And, before any of them
could grill him properly, Hector had sold his business and hightailed it off to Europe
with Helga, crushing the local ladies, who’d lost both a masseuse and a fresh bachelor
in one cruel blow.

Lainey went back to slicing the pie. “I thought Lillian had given up trying to replace
her.”

“Well, this one might make it,” Ida said, still patting Mr. Maxwell.

Irma rapped the counter again. “That’s why we’re here.”

Lainey jumped, then carefully placed her knife on the counter. “You’re not here for
your morning coffee and pie?”

Irma snorted. She was good with noises. “No time for that. We want you to—”

“Not
we
, Irma, you,” Ida corrected. “
I
wanted nothing to do with your scheme.
I
said we should leave the situation alone.”

“Situation?” Lainey looked to Irma. “Scheme?”

“
We
”—she shot a challenging look at Ida, who immediately began digging in her purse for
another doggie treat—“think you should make an appointment. At Lillian’s.”

Ida cupped a hand to her mouth and leaned closer. “For a massage.” For all her apparent
disapproval, there was no missing the gleam of excitement in her faded gray eyes.

What were they up to? Lainey waited for an explanation, but they both stared at her
with hopeful looks on their faces. “A massage? But I don’t need—”

Irma grabbed her wrist with surprising strength. “Yes. You do.”

“You’re the only one we can trust,” Ida added earnestly.

“Working so hard, standing all day. It’ll do you good,” Irma went on.

“But why—” Lainey broke off as understanding dawned. “Oh, you want me to test her
out.”

In the two years since she’d moved to the small Gulf
Coast community, Lainey had gotten to know most of the Sunset Shores residents. Minerva’s
Café was the only local nonfast-food place that served breakfast and lunch and had
long ago become a local gathering spot. She knew that none of the residents were hurting
financially, but most were still on some sort of fixed income. If it would make the
sisters feel more comfortable to have a personal recommendation before making their
own appointments, well, Lainey could swing one massage.

She went over her schedule. She had to run several errands the following afternoon
since the café was catering several luncheons at the senior center the next week.
On Fridays she was always swamped, and Minerva had her club meeting that afternoon.
“Maybe I can squeeze something in on Saturday.”

“Nothing sooner?” Irma demanded.

“Irma!” Ida smiled at Lainey. “That will be fine. Thank you, sweetie.” She patted
her hand. “You’re a good girl.”

“But, Ida, we can’t wait that long,” Irma whispered in a low hiss. “She’ll certainly
find out by—”

Something was definitely up, but Lainey was at a loss to pinpoint it. Curious but
not worried, she smiled with true affection at both sisters. Squabbling aside, they
were sweet and truly cared about her. Lainey jumped into the fray. The twins could
make a week-long event out of arguing over their soup selection. “I’m sorry I can’t
make it any sooner.”