Bedroom Eyes (33 page)

Beginning to purr, Penelope wound between his legs, loving the feel of his touch against her body.

“I don’t have any cat food, but maybe some shrimp will do.”

Thank goodness for small favors, Penelope thought, sitting back on her haunches and watching Tony dig in the refrigerator again. Cat food! She sure hoped Mrs. Merlin rescued her before Tony thought to run to the comer market and pick up a can of 9 Lives.

She laughed as she thought of Mrs. Merlin complaining about having to eat oatmeal. The noise came out sounding like a hiccupy meow.

“Okay, okay,” Tony said. “Demanding little pussy, aren’t you?”

What had he said? Penelope’s eyes widened, then she reminded herself Tony was talking to a feline.

He cleaned and chopped several shrimp and placed them on a saucer for her. He put it down on the floor and Penelope stared at it, perplexed. No way could she eat standing up, with the saucer at floor level.

She meowed, plaintively this time, and Tony turned back from his chopping. Penelope jumped to one of the chairs at the white table and waited, one paw pointing to a placemat.

“Are you nuts?” Tony shook his head.

She waited.

“You’re one spoiled cat,” he said, lifting the saucer from the floor and depositing it on the table. “But you are kind of cute.”

She thanked him with a meow and nibbled at the shrimp. It tasted like sushi without the rice. She wouldn’t have minded some light soy sauce, but as she couldn’t think of any way to communicate that preference, she ate the shrimp plain.

One thing was certain, Penelope thought after she’d finished her meal and had sat back on the chair to wash her face with a front paw: She appreciated a cat’s point of view much more than she ever had. After she got out of this Mrs. Merlin-inspired mishap, she might just adopt a cat.

Tony had moved to stewing the tomatoes along with fresh garlic, bell pepper, and onions. Penelope sniffed the air appreciatively. An image of the two of them, happily cooking side by side, entered her mind and she swabbed her face even faster.

He stirred the mixture, then walked over to the chair. “So you want to stay here with me?”

Penelope slowed her ablutions, then lowered her paw. Fixing her eyes on his face, she lifted her body so that her front paws rested on his chest.

With a smile, he picked her up and scratched her under the chin. “I think I’ll call you Penny,” he said. “In honor of the sweetest and sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

Penelope purred, even more loudly than before.

“So you’re an old friend of Olano’s?” Steve asked, scribbling on a notepad.

“Oh, I’ve known him for ages,” Mrs. Merlin said, fluttering her hand. “But I’ve lost his address, you see, and my memory not being what it used to be, well. . .”

“Of course. And you, Mr. . . . ?”

“Never met the man,” Alistair said, unable to understand why the officer appeared to have settled in for a lengthy discussion with them, and even less sure why Mrs. Merlin seemed so rattled. Did she also distrust the way the officer had taken charge when he’d heard who they were seeking? Of course, it was hard to know with Mrs. Merlin. It would be just like her to have left out a few pertinent details when she explained matters to him.

Just then the door opened and another officer peered in. “What’s happening, Steve?” he asked, barely covering a yawn.

Steve shrugged. “Performing a little community service.”

The newcomer raised his brows. “Is that so?” He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “Maybe I’ll help and earn some points with the chief, too.”

Steve looked as if he were going to object, but Mrs. Merlin piped in with, “Oh, thank you, Officer. Two heads are always better than one. Well, depending on which two, of course. All we’re trying to do is find Tony Olano.”

“Is that so?” The man glanced from them to Steve, apparently about as interested in Olano as the man in the moon.

“We want to know about Tony, but he wants to know about Hinson.”

The second officer studied his fingernails. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Beginning to look annoyed at the interruptions, Steve said, “And you were telling me you’re also acquainted with David Hinson?” The officer twirled his pen in his hands.

“Well, sort of,” Mrs. Merlin said, beginning to fiddle with the umbrella she held across her lap.

The man threw his pen down, suddenly not nearly so friendly. “Unless I know you’re telling me the truth, I’m not going to tell you how to find Olano.”

Mrs. Merlin jumped. “My, my, no need to get testy.”

“So prove to me you know Hinson.”

Alistair held his breath, wondering whether the endearing but ditsy woman had picked the name off the top of her head. To him it sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn’t know why. Waiting for her response along with the officer, Alistair thought longingly of the workout and massage he was missing at the club. Why was it anything Mrs. Merlin got involved in always seem to get overly complicated and confused?

A crafty look came into her eyes. “How would I know he’s asked someone to marry him if I didn’t know him?”

The officer sat up straighter, retrieved his pen. “Prove that.”

“Well, he gave a friend of mine a rock to die for. One of those big stones with pointy ends. Only the other night, too.”

The officer in the doorway, looking bored, wagged a hand at Steve. “Looks like you’ve got this under control. Catch you later.”

“Sure, Roy.”

When he strolled off, the officer left the door wide open.

Alistair realized Mrs. Merlin’s story about the fiancée must refer to Penelope, the woman caught in Mrs. Merlin’s miscast spell. Her boy-friend must be going nuts worrying about her.

“So you know Hinson’s girlfriend.” He appeared to chew over that matter.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call her his girlfriend,” Mrs. Merlin said, making a face of distaste. “She’s got far too much good sense to accept the ring. Why, I know for a fact—well, maybe not a fact exactly, but I feel it in my bones, which is as good as a fact—that she’s in love with someone else.”

“Mrs. Merlin,” Alistair interrupted, “I don’t think this officer wants to know any more.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He chewed on the end of the pen, an expression creeping into his eyes that set Alistair’s nerves on edge. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to know who the lucky guy is who’s cutting out Hinson.” He winked, suddenly all good-old-boy again. “He’s a buddy of mine, and I’d like to rib him over it, you understand.”

“That’s not my idea of any way to treat your friend,” Mrs. Merlin said severely. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

Alistair wasn’t sure she should, either. He lifted the duffel bag of magick supplies he’d set on the floor. He wasn’t getting any sense of it being safe to trust this guy, plus he wanted out of there.

The officer shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said, rising from his chair and heading for the door.

Mrs. Merlin stood, too. “But you haven’t told me how to find Tony!”

The policeman shrugged. “Tit for tat,” he said, “or not at all.”

She pushed her glasses down on her nose and glared at him above the rims. “Any three-year-old could have figured it out from this discussion, but if you must have the answer, I’ll* tell you.”

And suddenly Alistair realized what she was about to say, should have seen it coming.

“It’s Tony, of course,” she said. “Why would someone take up with a man like Hinson when she can have the man with bedroom eyes?”

“Wait right here,” the officer said, and walked rapidly from the room.

To Alistair’s amazement, the door slammed shut and he heard the lock click into place behind the cop named Steve.

Tony had just dumped the spaghetti into boiling water when a knock sounded at the door. Since he’d been at home during the day for much of the past several months, his neighbors had taken to asking the mailman to leave packages with him. As it was about time for the mail, Tony stirred his noodles, then headed quickly for the front of the house.

The cat had settled for a nap on the sofa, but when he walked past the living room it lifted its head, fixing those eyes, so eerily like Penelope’s, on Tony. She stretched, leaped down from the couch, and padded after Tony.

Out of habit, Tony glanced through the security peephole and stepped to the side.

No friendly postal worker faced him from the other side of his door; rather, one of Rolo Polo’s flunkies stood there, trimming a thumbnail with a pocketknife.

Tony grimaced. Just when a man had dinner ready, duty called.

He cracked open the door and slouched against it, looking his inquiry at his caller.

“Boss says he wants to talk to you.” The man slipped his knife into the pocket of a pair of baggy silk trousers.

Tony took in the guy’s outfit, from the trousers to the floppy silk shirt, lizardskin shoes and Ray-Ban sunglasses. “You been watching those
Miami Vice
reruns?”

“What’s it to you?” He jerked his head toward the long black car parked at the curb. “Rolo Polo’s waiting.”

And so was Tony’s boiling pasta.

Leaving the door open behind him, Tony strolled out onto his porch. He had a reputation as a troublemaker and if he acted any differently with his new employer it would only cause suspicion.

He’d been informed via a phone call from the department earlier that morning that he’d been recommended for a reinstatement hearing, which had been set for next week.

So he guessed the organization wanted to test him out, see whether they’d be getting their money’s worth.

The overdressed henchman went through his gate first, approached the car, and tapped on the driver’s window. It powered smoothly down to reveal Rolo Polo chewing on yet another unlit cigar.

“Rolo, where y’at?” Tony said, making a point of leaning on the car, leaving a nice array of fingerprints.

The fat man lowered his cigar and patted his gut. “Could be worse.” He winked. “Found me a new woman who made me feel like I ain’t never felt before. Cost me a fortune, but worth it. Yeah, it’s the life, all right.”

“Yeah, how much did she charge you for those ten minutes?” Tony laughed at his own joke, and Rolo joined in.

The skinny guy guffawed and slapped his leg. Rolo quit laughing. So did his flunky.

“The old man wants to see you.” Rolo Polo planted his cigar back between his teeth and gave Tony a challenging look. “Hinson’ll be there, too.”

“Any time in particular?”

“Tonight. Eight o’clock.” He added the street address of the Mid-City grocery, talking around his cigar.

Tony nodded. “So you want me to drive my broken-down Plymouth or you gonna send a car for me?” He figured he’d show he was a team player, trusting them completely with his safety. They’d pat him down, of course, whether he drove there himself or traveled in style.

Rolo grinned. “You got a lotta nerve. But I think I’m going to like working with you, Tony-O. Yeah, I’ll send a car. Maybe I’ll send Pretty-Boy for you.” He jerked a thumb at the skinny guy.

Tony gave him a thumbs-up and stepped back from the car window. “Keep visiting me here, Rolo Polo, and my neighbors are gonna start thinking I’m a drug dealer.”

“Nah. Not once you’re a cop again.” Then Rolo Polo winked and laughed, a lot longer and harder than Tony liked. God, he hated these creeps and couldn’t wait to take them down. For now, he winked back at the fat guy and said, “Gotta run. I’m cooking spaghetti.”

Rolo Polo shook his head. “You oughta get a wife.” Then he jerked his head at his flunky. “Come on, Pretty-Boy, let’s leave Tony to his supper.”

Tony turned and walked slowly up his sidewalk. The orange cat had followed him outside and sat on the porch, its head tilted to one side, giving every appearance of being deep in thought.

He didn’t know what cats thought about, but he knew what was uppermost on his mind.

Going undercover into this organization meant he’d have to wait a hell of a long time before he could see Penelope again. Even if Hinson hadn’t been pursuing her, he’d have had to be careful not to expose any woman he cared about to the dangers of retribution should something go wrong with the undercover sting operation.

But with Hinson planning to wed Penelope, God only knew what would have to happen before he could claim her, hold her close, and hope he’d never have to let her go. Tony groaned. Would she even have him, after the way he’d pushed her away?

The cat meowed softly and he leaned to scratch her on the head. “Well, in the meantime, I’ve got you, right, Penny?”

She rubbed against his leg and followed him back inside.

Just thinking about how he couldn’t see Penelope made him want to hear her voice. Pausing in his living room, he grabbed his phone, then sprinted for the kitchen as he suddenly remembered his pasta.

Foamy water spewed over the edges, sizzling onto the stove. Tony flicked off the burner, snatched two pot holders, and dumped the pot in the sink. Rolo Polo had ruined both Tony’s appetite and his dinner.

But not his appetite for Penelope. He punched in the number for her office, picturing her behind a big desk, head bent over books and papers, worrying her lip slightly as she wrote some brilliant legal argument. Overlaying that picture came the image of her in bed with him yesterday, open and loving and completely trusting him with her body and her emotions.

When the receptionist answered, he asked for Penelope and gave his last name when asked, all the while picturing Penelope smiling when she heard his voice.

But the next voice on the line wasn’t Penelope’s.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Fields isn’t in. May I help you?” The woman sounded helpful enough, but Tony wanted Penelope. He’d never thought that she might be unavailable, or worse, might not take his call.

“It’s important I speak with her.” He put on his most businesslike voice. “This is
Dr.
Olano.”

“Oh, well, Doctor, why didn’t you say so?” The woman stressed the title in an impertinent way Tony had to admire. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t matter whether it’s a matter of life and death or merely a hangnail, you can’t speak to her because she’s not here.”