MAKE ME A MATCH (Running Wild) (27 page)

Francie gently disentangled Watson and waited while Maddie programmed the phone and locked the door. She led the way down the steep flight of outside wooden stairs to the sidewalk. Watson waddled down after them.

“Somebody’s gonna sue your ass off when they fall down these stairs, ” Francie grumbled, holding tight to the railing.

“I’ve got insurance. And nobody but you wears heels like that to actually walk in. Besides, being on the second floor means the rent is doable.”

“It also means you live with the smell of pizza all day.”

“It could be worse.” Maddie waved at Edward, the Korean man who ran Mamma Mia’s Pizzeria in the store underneath her office. “It was a tattoo parlor before, and the clientele wasn’t half as classy.”

“Honestly, Maddie, haven’t you thought of moving to a nicer location? Sure, stay here in Capitol Hill, it’s a funky area, but maybe somewhere not so close to the freeway?”

“This place suits me fine.” Maddie hid a smile. Francie would slit her own throat at the comparison, but at times like this she sounded exactly like their mother, Bernice. “The rent’s low, there’s street parking, and some of the clients appreciate the fact that in this neighborhood they’re not likely to be recognized when they come to see us. Besides, one of the perks of a detective agency is not needing to impress people with a fancy address or luxurious offices.” “Nobody’s impressed, believe me.” Ignoring a young man with a nose ring who clapped a hand over, his heart and pretended to be love struck as she walked past him, Francie swayed across the street and into Lulu’s Emporium and Coffee Palace. They ordered frappes and took them to an umbrella-shaded table on the sidewalk. From here, Maddie could see if anyone went up the stairs to MIS.

Francie propped heart-shaped, pink-tinted sunglasses on her nose. “See that guy in the brown fedora over there in the alley beside your building? The one bent over rooting through the garbage bin. You know, his butt isn’t half bad.”

“That’s Dumpster Dan. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before this.” Mattie glanced at her watch. “He’s right on time. He always does that one at ten in the morning; that’s when Edward tosses out the pizza that didn’t sell last night. After that he hits the bakery over on Bellevue. They throw out buns and leftover pastries, and Dan has brunch while he listens to Rock 101 on his radio.”

“And you know this how?”

“Dan’s my friend. Well, sort of my friend. He has a few problems, but he’s basically a sweet guy.” He was, except he was totally paranoid, always thinking the feds were after him. Dan had told her in deepest confidence that he’d worked for the FBI and they were after him because he knew too much.

“What’s his last name?”

“I dunno, he never says.” Maddie always humored him, telling him she was keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. She’d assured him that when they turned up, she’d keep them occupied while Dan made his getaway. Apart from that bit of nuttiness, Dumpster Dan was a good friend.

“He keeps an eye on my office for me when I’m not around,” she explained to Francie. “He tells me what’s going down in the neighborhood. He doesn’t drink or use drugs; he says he kicked both habits when he was young, not that he’s that old now, but it’s hard to tell. And he reads—people throw all sorts of books away and he finds them. He gives the best ones to me. And he likes Bob Dylan.”

Francie was regarding her with something near horror.  “This is a street person, Maddie. Get a grip.”

“Dan’s a very interesting man. We don’t do dinner or anything like that, but we talk.”

It was more than that. Dan was her primary source of the Notes that Maddie taped to the bathroom walls at the office. Dan found them, she collected them. It wasn’t a hobby she really wanted to try to explain to Francie, although her sister had remarked on the unusual wall treatment in the loo. Notes and movies, those were her only hobbies. Besides her family. Which, when she thought about it, made sense out of Francie’s oft-repeated line, “get a life.”

Movies were self-explanatory, but Maddie couldn’t exactly explain why the Notes fascinated her. Some of them were annoying self-help aphorisms or outright religious dogma, but others were intimate snippets into other people’s lives. Some of them held mysteries to be solved, like the puzzles a lot of her clients presented. And once in a while, in an uncanny coincidence, a Note seemed to speak directly to a situation in her life.

She’d started collecting by accident four months ago, when Dan handed her a piece of water-stained paper he’d picked up. On it someone had scribbled,
Who, What, When, Where, Why, How—these are the great mysteries of the universe, Mo. I just thought you should know. Your ever-loving Bear Cat.

They also happened to be the primary questions a private investigator asked, and Maddie had tacked the Note to the bathroom wall as a joke. She’d told Dan where she’d put it, and he started bringing her other Notes, random messages he found tucked under windshield wipers or taped to power poles or simply lying in the street.

“I can’t believe you have a friend who spends his life digging in trash bins. Yuck." Francie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You know, Maddie, there’s something so not healthy about that. Apart from the psychological implications, I hope you don’t actually touch him or anything; can you imagine the germs?” She sipped her frappe. “And you’re the one lecturing me about my choice in men.”

Maddie waved to Samaya Desi, the woman who owned the secondhand store just down the street. “I’m not exactly in love with Dan, Francie.”

“Well, I am. In love. With Sebastian.”

“Love?” This was serious. Maddie had figured infatuated, but love? “I’ve never heard you say you were in love with anybody before. And there’s been a trainload of guys.”

“That’s how I know this time’s different. Sebastian’s a keeper.”

Maddie recognized the intractable expression on Francie’s face, and her heart sank. That same stubborn look had been there when she tried to convince her sister that quitting college to join an obscure Buddhist cult wasn’t going to lead to enlightenment. Francie shaved her head and went off to the Gulf Islands.

Three months later, she gave up on Buddhism and enrolled in art school, until she decided stripping was a liberated art form. She got herself hired at Venus, a sleazy waterfront club, and it had taken four entire months for her to admit that drugs and violence really did go hand in hand with stripping and that maybe it wasn’t the best career choice alter all.

Maddie had spent those exhausting months hanging around Venus until three in the morning, making sure Francie got home safe after her shift ended. That was when she’d hired Hannah. She couldn’t sister-sit all night and run the business all day.

There was one more item on Fisher’s bio that might just have an effect.

“Did you know that Sebastian Fisher’s father died in prison? Walter Fisher was serving two years for forgery at the time, but he’d been in the slammer twice before that. They’ve done studies on whether criminal behavior’s an inherited trait, and there’s evidence to suggest that it’s probable.”

Francie shrugged and ran a hand through her shiny hair. “I know about Sebastian’s dad. He told me about him before we decided to live together.”

“Fisher’s living with you?” Patrick and Bernice were going to hyperventilate when they heard it had come to this. “I didn’t think you’d known him that long.”

“Long enough. We met four and a half weeks ago; he bought one of my cards and loved it. And he hasn’t exactly moved in yet, he’s going to next weekend. Plus it was my idea, so don’t start about him taking advantage and all that crap. He already gave me half the rent, and he fixed my car—he’s a great mechanic—and he’s going to do something about that leak in the bedroom ceiling.”

“The apartment manager should fix that. Or Dad said he’d come over and do it for you.”

“The manager has bad breath and he keeps trying to brush up against my boobs. Dad doesn’t know the first thing about fixing roofs. And besides, letting Dad do stuff for me just makes him think he has the right to lecture me and run my life. And getting upset isn’t good for the baby.”

“Baby?” Maddie choked, spraying frappe all over the table. She was thankful she was sitting down. “Holy moley. You’re pregnant?”

The gay couple holding hands at the next table turned and gave Francie congratulatory smiles and a thumbs-up. Maddie felt like throwing a glass at them, because this was a calamity, a full-scale disaster. Francie as a mother? Not good
. So
not good.

Francie waggled her fingers and smiled at them, hissing, “Maddie, lower your voice. I’m not quite pregnant. But I’m going to be soon.”

Thank you, goddess, for small mercies
. Or the absence of them. “I suppose Sebastian knows you’re trying?”

Francie inspected her nails. “Well, not exactly. I’ll tell him after it’s happened.”

“Isn’t he liable to feel just a wee bit trapped and tricked?” How had she gone from despising the guy to feeling a little sorry for him?

Francie’s chin set. “It’s for his own good. See, all Sebastian needs is the love of a wild woman and a baby of his own. A little responsibility to settle him down. He’ll be the best father, the perfect husband, the ideal companion, you wait and see.”

Maddie had no intention of waiting. She had to figure something out fast, because this time Francie had taken total leave of her senses. There was no point getting into anything subjective like morality; Francie had never done moral. It was more effective to stick to fear-based issues.

“I can’t believe you’re having unprotected sex with a man you barely know. For God’s sake, Francie, you know how dangerous that is. Do you really want to commit suicide that way? ”

“He was tested. He gives blood. He’s the one who’s trusting me on that score.”

Fisher gave blood ? He probably sold it on the black market. Was there a black market for blood? Maddie was getting a headache, and it wasn’t the sun.

“And besides, we haven’t exactly been to bed together.” Francie’s voice was barely above a whisper and her cheeks were red. She wouldn’t meet Maddie’s astounded gaze. “Sebastian’s got standards.”

Whatever they were, Maddie was so relieved she felt like hugging the guy. Well, after she shot him.

“He’s a total gentleman, and he wanted to wait until we were living under the same roof.”

Francie had tried, and failed, to seduce this guy? Maddie found that astonishing, peculiar, and potentially significant. Dangerous? Maybe, if he was impotent. That would explain a lot. She’d dealt with impotent men in her line of work.  They were always having their partner followed, and they were insanely jealous and insecure. And a lot of times they acted out in violent ways. Big-time anger when the old toolie wouldn’t perform. But saying so to Francie would be like stepping into a minefield.

“Does he even have a job? Or are you planning to support him?” Which would require a major increase in either the card market or the amount Francie borrowed from Maddie. One thing about Francie, though, she always paid it back. Eventually.

Francie did the eye roll. “You are so not up on what’s going on out there in the real world. Why shouldn’t a woman support a man? Men have been doing it forever.”

“Maybe that’s because men don’t get pregnant.  Society set the model up so that kids are cared for and fed, honey.” A little late, Maddie recognized the diversionary tactic. “So, does he have a job, Francie?”

“Of course he has a job. It’s only temporary, of course; he has so much potential for better things. He works at a plant nursery, Bloomers over near the Market”

Just until he breaks into professional golf, right ? Putting plants in pots, now there was a hot choice on the career ladder. But Maddie knew enough to hold her tongue. She’d already said enough to get Francie’s rebellious nature jump-started.

“You know, Maddie, Gram’s met Sebastian, and she likes him a lot.”

“He probably flirted with her, right?”

Francie’s grin was reluctant. “You know Gram.”

Maddie did, and she loved her, but that didn’t change the fact that her father’s mother was a geriatric nymphomaniac. At seventy-six, Thelma Feathering went through men with astonishing enthusiasm and speed. None of them lasted, but as one departed, another appeared as if by magic. Maddie wished she’d inherited at least a smidgen of whatever it was that drew men to Thelma like fish to bait. God knew Francie had gotten a healthy dose of it. The entire available dose, Maddie concluded with a sigh.

“Well, just don’t make judgments based on hearsay, OK?” Francie glanced at her watch. “I hate to run while we’re having such a fab time arguing, but I have orders on cards that need to be delivered by the end of the week.”

After the stripping fiasco, Francie had discovered she had a real knack for designing hip and mostly X-rated greeting cards. She called her business Off The Wall and sold to a variety of small shops and boutiques. “I have to come up with something really naughty; they’re for In Tu It, that store on the Corridor that sells sex toys?”

“Oh, yeah.” But Maddie didn’t know. She’d only set foot inside a sex shop once. The massive display of vibrators in eight different colors right inside the door had been all she could handle in one gulp. So to speak. Besides, she still had the plain skin-toned one Francie had given her for her eighteenth birthday. It had staying power.