“Well, yeah, that man is now following that poor girl. What if he catches her? What if he gets mad that he got duped? She doesn’t know how to defend herself.”
This Wilma had never seen my sister in action before. If she had been, she’d know that my sister wasn’t in danger. Not from the likes of a tail. One of the many ghosts that had haunted her was a spy from the 1940s. He’d advised her how to get out of any jam, and if he didn’t, then the dead actress would. If anybody was in danger, it was the person following her.
“I promise you she’ll be okay.”
Miss Wilma handed me a slip of paper. I opened it to reveal the license number, along with the physical description of the guy sitting in the car. “Did you get a closelook at the guy?”
“Oh yes, dear, I took Rinaldo on a walk. He gets excited when I pull out the leash. Honestly, he’d rather be outside chasing the kids.” Rinaldo was the poodle that liked to yap at just about anything that moved.
“Miss Wilma, please.”
“Yes, honey, I got a really good look at him.”
“If I showed you a picture of the guy, would you recognize him?”
“Oh yes, dear,” she answered.
I pulled out my phone and pulled up the picture of Fillpot and turned to face her. “Is this the guy?”
“Yes, dear, but if you already know who he is, why did you need our help?”
If I’d known who was following me, I would havestopped him and asked him what the hell he was up to, but Wilma didn’t need to know that. “Thanks for the license plate number. I’ll take it from here.”
I opened a drawer on the little table by the door and rooted around for Faith’s car keys, with no luck. I grabbed my sister’s purse and pulled out her tarot cards and her crystals and checked every available nook and cranny. No keys.
Had she left me stranded?
“If you’re looking for her keys, honey, you won’t find them in the house. She keeps them in that old heap.”
Only my sister would keep her keys in the car without worry about it getting stolen. Only my sister would think leavingthe keys in the car was a good idea. “Thanks, Miss Wilma. I’m going to have to break her of that.”
“Why is that, dear?”
“Somebody could steal it,” I said as I ushered Miss Wilma to the door and outside in search of my sister’s car.
“Oh, nobody can steal it, dear. She keeps it locked up in the shed. The thief would need a combination to get in.”
I glanced at the shed door and the metal lock on the latch. A thief wouldn’t need to work hard to get to the truck. A simple bolt cutter would do the job. I kept my comments to myself.
“Did she at least tell you the combination?” Wilma asked as she headed up the walkway.
“I’m sure it’s the same lock she used ten years ago on her school locker.”
And I was right. I opened the lock and the shed doors. A rusted, beat-up old truck, with spots of Bondo holding it together, sat in the space. I was going to be lucky if this thing even ran still. I’d tried for years to talk her into getting a new automobile. It didn’t have to be something new, just something new to her, something that wasn’t held together with rust and primer. I couldn’t complain, not after what she was doing for me by leading Fillpot away.
I slid behind the wheel and found the keys already in the ignition. I shook my head and fought the urge to call and have a stern talk about what security meant. It took three tries before the truck engine caught. I tensed at the sound of the muffler backfiring. There would be no sneaking around in this jalopy. I slammed the door shut and drove it out, only stopping long enough to lock the shed behind me and lock the front door.
I pulled up in front of Max’s house and turned off the truck. It sputtered black smoke out of the exhaust and shuddered before it turned off. Max stepped out onto his porch. He had his hands in his pocket, a dishtowel tossed over his shoulder. “I can’t pinpoint it, but there’s something different about you.”
I rolled my eyes. “How do you know this isn’t how I dress every day?”
His lips twisted as he tried to hide his smile.
“And you seem to have downgraded your car since the last time I saw you. That’s impressive, Gwen.”
“Shut up.” I stopped in front of him and stared up into his eyes. Those baby blues could make all my problems vanish with a single seductive stare. “I’m aggravated, I’m starved, and I’m hot. That hunk of junk doesn’t even have a working air conditioner. Make my day and tell me thatwe actually have intel to discuss and your insisting thatI come here isn’t some elaborate plan to get me in bed.”
My pulse jumped at the thought. Maybe that was exactly what I needed after the day I’d had.
The smile broke free on his lips, and he ushered me inside. “I dohave intel, but not until I feed you.”
“Food? You cooked? I thought you told me when we first met that you couldn’t cook. Was that a lie, Counselor?”
“I told you my mother’s chef tried to teach me the art of cooking. She only succeeded in teaching me one dish. I hope you’re hungry for Parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp. Dinner will be done in five minutes, and the wine is already breathing. After I dazzle you with the meal and share the information I have, then maybe you and I can spare a few minutes off the clock. Maybe.”
“Breaking your own rules already, Max? You and I both agreed that we don’t mix our personal and professional lives.”
Max led me inside and closed the door behind us. He took me into his arms and lowered his lips to mine in a kiss that made my legs weak. It wasn’t until I was clutching him closer thathe broke the kiss. My heart raced as I tried to catch my breath.
“I changed my mind.”Max whispered.
