Evil to the Max (17 page)

“I’m not going anywhere in that truck,” she started in on him immediately, in an attempt to throw him off balance.

It didn’t work. He looked at his big watch. Everything about the man was big. “Why are you leaving early, Max?”

Damn that Cameron, he probably whispered things to Witt. She sniffed the air for any traces of her late husband’s peppermints and found none. “Is it early?” she asked innocently.

“You’re trying to sneak away without me.”

“I’ve already had this conversation, Detective.”

“With whom?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She walked down the front walk to stand in front of him. “So, what was it we had planned for tonight?”

Witt raised a brow. “Is that an invitation?”

“You wish.”

“You’re right, I do. But I guess this time I’ll have to settle for tracking down your Snake.”

God, Snake. One look at Traynor’s computer file, and she’d forgotten the wino, Nadine Johnson, her relationship to Jake Lloyd, and Tiffany’s belongings in the trunk of her car. None of it could be as important as following up her Traynor lead.

“You don’t need me for that. All you need to do is find out what’s in his locker and if he took anything from the crime scene.”

Still leaning against his beautiful black truck, the sight of which gave her goosebumps, Witt folded his arms across his chest. Why the hell did the guy have to look so ... gorgeously
guyish
in jeans and a T-shirt? Why did he have to prefer
tight
black jeans, and, oh jeez, tonight it was boots. Workboots. Hell’s Angel boots. Big stomping boots. Kick-them-off-beside-
my
-bed boots.

Oh man. With Tiffany humming inside her, she was a goner.

“Now why do I get the feeling you’re trying to brush me off, Max? You’ve got something planned. What are you up to?”

Better get it over with. She told a lie. But it was only a sort-of lie because she intended to do it, just not tonight. Tonight, she had major plans that far outweighed Nadine Johnson. “I’ve got a couple of boxes of Tiffany’s things. I was going to take them over to her sister’s and scope things out.”

He smiled. “Good thinking.”

She blew on her nails and rubbed them against the sleeve of her shirt. Mission accomplished. She’d impressed him and thrown him off track.

“We’ll go together.”

Damn. Well, they could do that first, then she’d have to think of a way to ditch him. “Fine.”

He stepped back, opened the truck door with a graceful bow.

“The stuff’s in my car.”

“I’ll wait while you get it.”

Double damn. Nothing would get rid of the man. “What about my car?”

“I’ll bring you back when we’re done.”

She eyed the truck, the man, and the big front seat. Trouble with a Capital T. “Don’t you have better things to do, Witt?”

“Not since you strolled into my office talking about dead bodies again. It was music to my ears,” he said with a grin. There was that smiling and laughing thing again. It made her uneasy.

Max walked the three car lengths to her Miata, retrieved the boxes from her trunk, and returned. Witt set them in the bed, while she hoisted herself up into the truck. Witt joined her a moment later.

The interior had that well-loved smell, essences of Armor All and evergreen air freshener. The floor mats were spotless and fluffed up as if no one had ever used them. A stainless steel travel mug sat in the cup holder. No way any coffee was going to spill out of that thing in his precious truck.

He didn’t immediately start the engine. Instead, he turned, observed her from the corner of his eye, then leaned closer. Closer. Close enough to breathe in the scent of her hair.

“Damn, you smell good.”

She pulled back, self-consciously touching her new do. “Miles Lamont’s work. I got the whole treatment. He didn’t want me to shame the shop.” She couldn’t believe Witt had picked up on the aroma of all the goop Ariel had put on her hair.

“I like it. I like—”

“Stop.” She shoved a hand in his face, and inadvertently, touched his mouth. Her heart stuttered, then kick-started again. “We’ve got lots to do tonight. There’s no time for any of your funny business.”

“Always time for funny business. Some day you’ll figure that out.” Then he licked her palm right up the center.

Oh my God. She was about to have an apoplectic attack.

The gleam in his eyes said he knew exactly how he affected her. So did his next threat. “And when you do, I’ll be there, Max. Count on it.”

With that, he cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. Despite the feet that separated them, she didn’t feel one whit better.

Fifteen minutes and very little conversation later—Max was still in detox from the overheated touch of his tongue—they arrived at Nadine Johnson’s. At six o’clock, the parking lot was relatively empty. If Nadine wasn’t there, they’d wait. Then again, in the stall marked with the number of Nadine’s apartment sat a once cherry red vintage Mustang. The paint had long since faded to a dull orange-red, the imitation leather top flaking.

“I’ll do this alone.”

Witt eyed her, something flickered in the deep blue, then he gave a barely perceptible nod. Agreement. Max sure as hell wasn’t going to call it approval.

He helped her with the boxes, stacking one on top of the other in her arms. “You scream if you need me.”

“Loud and clear, Ace.”

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. Arms laden, she couldn’t belt him, but she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that again.”

Witt laughed. “Next time, you’ll have to beg.”

Puhleeeese
. “Over your dead body.”

He turned her around and patted her on the butt, shooing her away like a recalcitrant child.

“And don’t
ever
do that again either,” she called over her shoulder. She should have been outraged, but her tone was flippant. Maybe it was Tiffany’s influence. Maybe it was finding Bud Traynor’s name in the computer. Or maybe she’d lost her mind.

Or maybe it’s you, not Tiffany, who’s all hot for the guy. You almost had an orgasm when he licked you. And that was only your hand.

“Just bug off,” she snapped at Cameron, but even that was pretty mild.

“You say something, Max?”

“Just reminding you to keep your hands off my butt, Detective,” she sang out sweetly, then deliberately sashayed that part of her anatomy as she climbed the stairs.

Witt’s laughter followed her. Or was it Cameron’s?

At the top, a light glowed in the small opaque window that must be Nadine’s bathroom. Balancing the load on her hip, Max knocked on the door. It took Nadine Johnson five minutes and a second knock to answer.

She had a dusting of flour across her cheek and a dish towel in her hand. She was an older version of Tiffany by about five years, but those had been long, hard years. Her hair had lost its natural blonde luster and frown lines marred the corners of her mouth and forehead. “I’m not buying anything.”

“I’m not selling anything. I work at A Cut Above. I brought you your sister’s stuff.”

Nadine’s lips curled with bitterness. “Why’d they send you? I don’t even know you.”

“I offered. I knew her from the Round Up. My name’s Max. I’m really sorry about what happened to her.” She used the same story she’d given Jake.

“You sound like you actually liked her.”

Ooh, this woman was a tough one. The boxes were getting heavy. Max set them on the porch, but Nadine didn’t invite her in. She searched for the right words, ones that bordered on the truth. “I just don’t think she deserved to die, especially not like that.”

Nadine laughed, then clamped her lips shut on the caustic sound. “You didn’t know her very well then, did you?”

Max shook her head in wonder, and the action wasn’t faked. This woman was Tiffany’s sister. “You make it sound like you think she got what she had coming to her.”

“You lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas and dog shit all over you. Okay?”

Max thought about Jake Lloyd’s alibi, about the fact that he’d run back to Nadine last night after she’d confronted him. She took a chance. “Is Jake the dog she laid down with?”

Nadine’s jaw worked, and her fingers on the door tensed. “He was one of her victims.”

“Because she divorced him?”

“Because she wouldn’t let him go after she did. She didn’t want him. She wanted her parade of men when, where, and how she wanted them. But she made damn sure Jake wasn’t good for anyone else either.” The words seemed to rush out of her as if a dam had broken. She’d probably said them before, over and over, most likely to Jake, but Nadine wasn’t done hating her sister. She wanted a new audience, needed someone else to listen.

Jeez, Nadine was stupid.

And she was definitely in love with Jake. Hence the alibi. And the lie. Max knew Nadine had lied. She lapped up the woman’s every word and pushed for more. “She treated him badly, didn’t she?”

“Worse than bad. She threw him out, then when he ... when I ...”

“I thought she was the one who moved out.”

“You obviously didn’t know her as well as you think you did. Tiffany left their apartment, but she threw
him
out of her life.”

“And she moved in with you. To watch you?”

For the first time, tears clouded Nadine’s eyes. They were tears for herself. “She probably told you about Jake and me, didn’t she? Probably told you we were having an affair behind her back. But that wasn’t true. Jake would never ... he loved her. He just came over to talk. Because she drove him crazy.”

“But he knew what she was like when he married her,” Max prodded, though she didn’t think Nadine really needed any encouragement.

“Oh, I can just hear her saying that. He thought he could change her. He asked her to give up the other men.”

“And that’s when she left him.” Max spoke quietly, wondering how long she could keep the woman going.

“She left when he got drunk because he couldn’t stand thinking about her with those other guys. He fell asleep on my couch. She accused him of sleeping with me. It wasn’t true. And then she actually came to cry on my shoulder about how he wanted to change her, expected her to give up her so-called ‘little flings,’ when he wasn’t willing to give up other women. She said that to
me
,” Nadine stabbed her chest, “the woman she’d accused of sleeping with him. She told me she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Then she allowed him to come over, let him beg her to come back, and made me watch the effect she had on him. And she enjoyed it. He did everything she wanted—let her have her men. He thought she’d realize he was the only one for her. She’d even sneak off with
him
. I know they did ... kinky things. She loved telling me about it. It was terrible.” A single tear slipped from her eye, ran down her cheek into a line etched permanently along the side of her mouth.

“So, you quit your job ... ” Max urged.

“And told her to get out of my apartment. I thought maybe that would stop her. If she couldn’t rub my nose in it anymore, maybe she’d just leave him alone. I kept hoping, praying ... ” She stopped. Max held her breath. The woman went on, “But she just kept carrying on with the different men. It drove Jake crazy.”

Crazy enough to kill? The question hung in the air between them. Nadine stopped then, with her mouth open, and really looked at Max for the first time in the last five minutes. “He wouldn’t have hurt her. Never. He’s not like that.”

Max believed her, mostly because she had bigger fish to fry anyway. Like Bud Traynor. “Did she see anyone in particular, more than most?”

“Some.”

“Maybe an older man, someone who might have a greater influence over her?”

“No one had an influence over Tiffany, and she barely tolerated older men. Mostly, she liked them young, virile.”

Damn. Max knew there was a connection. There had to be.

Nadine eyed her suspiciously now. “You should know all that if you’re her friend. Like you say you are. What did you say your name was?”

“Max.”

“She never mentioned you.” Nadine paused, her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “Max. You’re the one Jake told me about. What is it you want from us?”

Exactly what you just gave me, Nadine dear. The story behind Jake’s relationship with his wife
. It was time to go for the jugular. Nadine wouldn’t give her anything else without a fight. “Didn’t it occur to you that he might have killed her because he couldn’t have her to himself?”

“He was with me the night she was killed.”

Max wagged her finger. “No, he wasn’t. He was with
her
.” She cocked her head. “And you just might be covering for a murderer.”

Nadine’s lips thinned. “Are you a cop or something? Undercover? Trying to trip me up?” She clutched the dish towel between her fists, snapping it like a weapon.

Max knew she’d lost the woman. For now. She pointed down at the boxes. “No, Nadine. I’m just here to bring you Tiffany’s stuff.”

Nadine stared at the contents without comment.

“It’s just her makeup, a few odds and ends, and her masks.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. In fact, you can just throw it in the dumpster downstairs.”

“You mean the way someone tossed your sister’s dead body in a dumpster?”

Nadine had the grace to flush this time. She took a deep breath, pursed her lips, then said, “Don’t bother judging me. And if you’re looking for a killer, maybe you ought to look in that damn salon. Why don’t you ask Ariel Sanchez how she felt about Tiffany stealing
her
husband three years ago?”

And then she slammed the door in Max’s face.

Chapter Seventeen

Max left the boxes in front of Nadine’s door and trotted down the stairs.

Nadine had just confirmed that Ariel had a pretty darn good motive for murder. But Max didn’t have to like it.

And it took her three years to get around to it? I think you better work on that one, Max
.

Yeah. Good point. Suspecting her of murder just didn’t feel right. Besides, she
liked
Ariel.