With Vics You Get Eggroll (A Mad for Mod Mystery Book 3) (10 page)

THIRTEEN

I thought back to when I’d been pulled over earlier in the week and had asked Officer Iverson to show me his badge. “So the warnings on the news aren’t going to protect anybody. If someone gets pulled over and asks to see a badge, they’re going to trust that it’s real.”

He nodded. “Ever since Kate Morrow’s mother accused me of abducting her daughter on the news, my name’s been connected to the crime. Doesn’t look like that’s going to change.”

“Why aren’t the police staking out the Casa Linda parking lot?”

“Patrol cops circle through on their route, but the abductions haven’t all happened there. The force is already spread thin because of this. If the chief puts a car there around the clock, that’s a car that can’t be somewhere else. He’s managing the best he can with limited resources. If someone’s following what the reporters have been saying, they’d know the police suspect an impersonator.”

“Unless that someone was from out of town.”

Like Cleo Tyler. But Cleo knew about Tex. Her husband had an obvious dislike of the police, and now I knew his affiliation with Tex wasn’t random. So how had an impersonator gotten her to go with him? She should have known the man who approached her wasn’t the man we watched on TV. Or did she trust me so much that she ignored any warning bells that had gone off when she saw his name on the badge? Had my reassurances that Tex was innocent led her to fall for a trap?

I ate two more French fries and moved the empty red and white checkered carton to the trash bag with the Styrofoam shake cups. “What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find the connection to me. I’ve been over every old case, every guy I put in jail, every ex-girlfriend.”

“You must be tired.”

I caught him off guard and he chuckled, and then grew serious. “Criminals always return to the scene of the crime. He took Kate and Cleo from the Casa Linda parking lot. I’m going back to keep watch.”

“You don’t think someone’s going to report your car as being suspicious?”

“I’m not conducting an investigation. I’m sitting lookout. I told you, there aren’t enough cops in the department to plant somebody there around the clock. If I see something, I call it in. That’s all I can do.”

“Lieutenant, you can’t keep up surveillance on the parking lot for twenty-four hours of the day. It’s not healthy.”

“Twenty-three hours, if you count the pool this morning.”

“I’m serious. Take the night off. Stay at Thelma’s.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Night. Until this guy gets caught, I’m on watch. Besides, I’ve got you to check in on me twice a day, right? So, tonight? Midnight? Are you in or are you out?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tex and I went separate directions. I drove Rocky back to the studio and unpinned the images of the abducted women from my cork wall. I tried brainstorming paint color names (Turquoise Target, Dead-On Red, Hopeless Taupe, and Yell for Yellow) before recognizing I was in a dark mood. I moved on to the important task of doodling the blank page of my notebook with sketches of boomerangs and wing dings until I remembered what the mall employee had said. He saw Cleo get into a car in front of the paint store. Not the grocery store.

I called Paintin’ Place. “Mitchell, it’s Madison.”

“Did you finally come up with names for those swatches?”

“I’m working on it, but that’s not why I called. I heard a woman was abducted from the parking lot in front of your store yesterday.”

“Yeah, and now I got reporters hanging around like I’m giving away free coffee.”

“Did you see anything?”

“She came into my store and took a bunch of paint swatches, but she didn’t buy anything. After she left, I went back to restocking the drop cloths. Some new contractor was in that morning and wiped me out.”

“So you didn’t see her talking to a police officer?”

“No.”

“How did you find out what happened?”

“That lady reporter who broke the news came in. She asked me a bunch of questions like the ones you’re asking. Once her story hit the air, the reporters multiplied. Only thing I keep hoping is that one of them will decide they want to paint their house.”

“Thanks, Mitchell,” I said.

“Listen, Madison, I don’t want to pressure you, but are you any closer to coming up with paint names?”

“Soon, I promise.”

“You’re putting a lot of thought into it.”

“It’s not every day I get the chance to endorse a line of mid-century paint colors. It’s a big responsibility in my world.”

“Well, if you don’t come up with names soon, I’m going to have to pull the plug on the whole idea. This is peak home renovation season.”

“I’m on it.”

When I hung up, I looked back down at the page hoping maybe there was something there that was better than I thought. Sadly, I’d been right the first time. I wrote “Cleo Tyler” in a blank space on the side of the page, and then sat back. Why would Cleo have been getting swatches from the paint store? She and Dan were paying me a fair amount to decorate. Why do it herself instead of tasking me out for that very project? She was a woman who had a maid clean up after her dog. Something—or someone—had drawn her there.

At quarter to four, Rocky and I headed to Hudson’s. Mortiboy and Hudson were in the backyard. Rocky raced to Mortiboy, who hissed in his face. He looked at me with guilty Shih Tzu eyes, and then back at Mortiboy, who stared at him with a feline expression that said, “don’t even think about charging me again.”

Hudson reclined in the rope hammock that we’d sat in last night. He kept one foot on the ground, moving the hammock side to side. Mortiboy and Rocky were on the deck. It seemed they’d reached an agreement to coexist.

“So it really wasn’t a dream,” Hudson said.

“Funny, I thought the same thing when I woke up. Where’s Nettie?”

“She took Heather out to a matinee.”

“I hope you didn’t pass up something good on my account,” I said playfully.

“Disney princesses aren’t my thing.” His expression changed. “I asked around today and found out Lt. Allen’s troubles are worse than I thought. You’re not turning into a thrill seeker, are you?”

“I think I’ve had my fifteen minutes of danger already,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Come here,” he said. He shifted to the side of the hammock and it rocked back and forth.

I crossed his backyard. He held a hand out and I took it. I didn’t put up a fight when he gently pulled me closer. I sat, facing him, with my legs dangling from the side. He ran his thumb back and forth over the palm of my hand.

“When you came here last night, you didn’t know I would be here. Now that I’m back, are you going to leave?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Good.”

I felt the cozy warmth I’d been missing since Hudson had left town. The tension, fear, and anxiety that surrounded me since the abductions started now dropped away, like I’d entered a soundproof booth that shut out the world. In the yard, a Monarch butterfly hovered by a row of bamboo plants. Mortiboy stood up and swatted at the butterfly, and then chased it a few feet. Rocky followed close behind. Mortiboy turned and swatted Rocky in the nose. Rocky whimpered, looked at me, and back at the black cat.

“Pretty soon they won’t remember what life was like without each other.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far,” I said.

“We’re very accepting around here. You might be surprised.”

I stared up at the blue sky and closed my eyes for a second. The early humidity stuck on my face like an invisible washcloth. I’d come to accept the hot, humid days in Dallas, but I didn’t think I’d learn to like them.

“Your note this morning said something about an idea for me,” I said.

“Yes. You said your apartment building is vacant, right? Good time to do some major renovations. If I remember correctly, those carpets are looking pretty shabby.”

“It’s like you can read my mind. I was just thinking about that yesterday.”

“If I could read your mind, I like to think we wouldn’t be talking about renovating your apartment building. Besides, I don’t know if I would have gotten the idea if you hadn’t mentioned Lyndy.”

“You never called in backup on a job before. Why now?”

“You’re talking about tearing carpets out of an entire building and refinishing the hardwood floors underneath? I’m flattered that you think I can handle that myself, but unless you want the place to be under construction until Christmas, I’m going to need some help. Lyndy’s a pro. Carpets are his specialty.”

“Do you want to head over there later, do a walk-through and give me a quote?”

“Don’t need to. I went over today and did a walk-through.”

“And?”

“I’m pretty sure you can afford me. But Lyndy’s not going to come cheap.” He smiled.

Something was happening between Hudson and me, and as much as I wanted to give in and see where it went, I was still scared. After about a minute or so, I stood up and let go of his hand. “Aside from your living room and your guest bathroom, I’ve never really seen the interior of your house. Any interest in giving me a tour?” I asked.

“Why don’t you go inside and check it out on your own? Help yourself to anything you find. I’ll be in shortly.”

I left Hudson out back and wandered into his house. I knew I would have done this very thing the previous night if he hadn’t been here, but knowing he was right outside, allowing me the same chance to get to know him through his residence, made me feel like he had invited me into his private world instead of me showing up and crashing it.

Tempted as I was to beeline for his bedroom and take a peek, I didn’t. I walked down the hallway, pausing to study the paintings on the walls and the books in the bookcase. I was already familiar with his living room, a study in wood paneling with an orange tweed sofa and matching round cushions. I kicked my shoes off and walked barefoot over the plush shag carpet. In front of me was the boomerang table that I’d knocked the vase of cat-o-nine tails from the previous night.

The kitchen was homey. Avocado green appliances from the seventies shared space with a microwave, blender, and popcorn popper. The room was wallpapered in a green, gold, orange, and cream print of vegetables. A wooden pull-down room separator was in the up position above a counter with two bar stools nestled underneath it.

Past the kitchen was a breakfast nook with a small round table and four chairs. The style of the table was like that of my custom desk at Mad for Mod: a patchwork of materials that previously had come from different abandoned pieces. Four mismatched legs had been recut and attached to a rough cross-section of wood that had been coated in polyurethane to protect it. Above the table hung a chandelier of glass fruits and vegetables.

It seemed the whole place was a time capsule house, maintaining the groovy vibe of the late sixties/early seventies. Within the first five minutes I felt completely at home.

Down the hallway, I opened the door to the room where Heather and Nettie had slept. Yellow shag carpeting met pale green walls with oversized flowers hand-painted on as if growing from the white baseboards. Yellow blankets trimmed in satin covered each bed.

As comfortable as I felt in Hudson’s house, I couldn’t help thinking about how uncomfortable Tex must be in mine. Before inheriting Thelma Johnson’s house, I had moved most of the furniture out, and had only recently layered in a twin bed, a sofa, a TV, and a portion of my wardrobe. He had accepted my generosity and found himself sleeping under pink sheets. I giggled at the thought, then immediately grew serious when I considered the alternative. I fished my phone out of my handbag and called him.

“Where do you live?” I asked after he answered.

“Why?”

“You said you’re avoiding your house because of the press. I can go, get you a few things, you know, to make your stay at Thelma Johnson’s house more comfortable. Change of clothes, teddy bear, whatever you need.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said.

“Why not? It’s the middle of the day. Surely women have reasons for going to your apartment in the middle of the day that don’t raise your neighbor’s suspicions. Or do you need me to dress like a maid?”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Forget I suggested it.”

“Too late. The image is already there.” He was silent for a second. “There are a few things I could use, but you’ll need my keys to get in.”

“Are you at the shopping center?”

“I’m close enough. Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

“Deal.”

I went out back and watched Hudson toss a branch across the yard. Rocky raced after it. When Hudson saw me, he turned away from Rocky, who was trotting back with the branch between his teeth. I held my hand out to stop Hudson from approaching.

“I have to go do something and I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I get back. I can’t tell you much more than that. Can you watch Rocky?”

“Madison, I’ve been away for four months. It’s nice to be back. It’s nice to have you here, but even if you weren’t here, I’d be too tired to do much more than watch the animals. You do what you gotta do. Take the spare set of keys from the pegboard in the kitchen and I’ll see you when you’re done.”

I made it to the Casa Linda parking lot faster than expected. Tex’s Jeep sat along the far end of the lot, next to the abandoned field. Under the bright Texas sun, the car shone like it had just been washed. From across the lot, I saw a man in a dark uniform leaning into the driver’s side window. He straightened and pulled a black duffel bag out of the window. A rush of heat climbed my throat, leaving me lightheaded.

The man tossed the bag into a black sedan next to the Jeep, jumped inside, and took off. I grew nearer and made out the silhouette of a person inside the Jeep, but by the time I pulled into the space next it, I knew the person wasn’t Tex.

The person wasn’t even a man.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, looking battered and bruised was Cleo Tyler.