Mint Cookie Murder (17 page)

"That's weird," I lied. "I don't either." Okay…okay, I might've accidentally hit her face on the doorframe to the garage once or five times…

We stopped at the yarn shop and picked up Philby, who seemed happy to see me or constipated. When we arrived home, Kelly had to leave. She was working third shift. She reminded me yet again that I owed her before she walked out the door.

I sat on the couch with Philby while Riley brought us two glasses of wine. He started to set it on the coffee table, but after studying the crooked mess I'd made putting it together, decided the glasses were safer in our hands. Philby sat between us and purred.

"So Angela is the assassin? She must've impersonated me at the prison. It's pretty easy to fake a video," I said as I pet my cat.

Riley shrugged. "We won't know for sure until the blood work comes back, but it looks that way."

"She was conveniently in town for all of this," I said with more than a little glee.

"So it's just a coincidence she knew Rex?" Riley asked. "I don't like coincidences."

I thought about that for a moment. "I don't think Rex is involved. But I do wonder if she and Bobb are working together."

"That's possible, I guess. But I don't know. Bobb's an excellent shot. Why didn't he do all the shooting?"

I shook my head. "No idea. That doesn't really make sense."

"Neither does the fact that they both seemed to be looking for your cat." Riley scratched under Philby's chin, and the cat went limp.

"You killed him!" I wiggled the cat's head, trying to get it to regain consciousness. "Bobb!" I shouted.

Philby hissed himself awake and looked at us like he was ready to tear our heads off.

"B-O-B-B certainly has a connection to your cat," Riley said. He scratched Philby's chin again, and the cat once again passed out.

"It's like those fainting goats. Too much stimulus and they lose consciousness." I said. The cat was still breathing. He just wasn't awake.

"Weird." Riley examined Philby's chin. "I wonder what the guy who can't be named wants with him?"

"You know, even though we've nailed the hoodie shooter, we're still no closer to the truth." My head hurt. Probably from all the wine. "Why don't we call it a night?" I stood up and stretched.

Riley was still staring at the cat. "Okay. Mind if Philby crashes with me tonight?"

"Why? Do you think I can't protect my own cat?" I asked a little defensively. Okay. A lot defensively. It also bothered me a little that he didn't want
me
to crash with him. But then, I was tired. Sex is always better when you're rested.

"No. It's not that." Riley scratched between the sleeping cat's ears. "I just think maybe if I spend a little time with him I could figure all this out."

"Whatever," I yawned. "See you two in the morning. Don't stay up too late."

I got ready for bed and climbed between the sheets. My brain was pulsing with questions. If I've learned anything from years of spying, it's that you can't think on a busy brain. Also, you can't think on an empty stomach, a train ride through India, or when you are drinking absinthe in Paris.

I'd wanted to talk to Riley about all this kissing and worrying about me stuff. I needed to know what it all meant. But did I
want
to know? What would he say anyway? Maybe he was just toying with me?

No, it didn't seem like that. And he was having trouble with the case—losing the guy he was chasing, forgetting stuff he should remember. I'd seen this before. When spies got personally involved, the case always suffered. You couldn't focus on an assignment when you were romantically involved with the person next to you. Instead of the mission coming first, the well-being of your partner came first. It wasn't a good combination.

Riley had been the agency representative sent when the shit hit the fan with me recently. Did they send him, or had he volunteered because he cared about me? I shuddered just thinking about it. If Riley was interested…when did he first feel that way? Had I been blind to it all those years we worked together? Or was it new?

Was he confusing things? Did he just miss working with me and translated that into an affection for me? My head was splitting now. Riley could have feelings for me. Wow. Just…wow.

So why didn't I talk to him about it? That's what you did—you worked through things that jeopardized the mission. And yet, I was afraid to broach the subject. It was possible I was reading this all wrong.

Uh, yeah, I was misreading the kiss. That was the kiss a man gives when he's into a woman. There was no misunderstanding that. Obviously, Riley had a thing for me. When this had all started up, months ago, I'd thought my former boss was acting like this to get me to comply with his orders and agree to his involvement.

It didn't seem like that was the case this time. I wanted him here for extra protection for Philby…to keep the press away when Lenny Smith had showed up dead on my doorstep…but did I want him here also for something else?

Clearly, my body was interested. No wait, I couldn't totally blame my body on this one. I kissed him back. I liked it. No…I'd loved it. So what did it all mean?

Oh, for crying out loud! Now my life was even more complicated. Two men were interested in me. Well, I assumed Rex was still interested in me, and since I didn't know for sure, I was going to believe it.

Two men. I did not need two men fighting over me. Okay—I wanted two men fighting over me a little. But that was bad. I should be more adult about this. Bad, bad, bad.

So what was the answer? Rex or Riley? I hadn't talked to either of them. I'd been avoiding the very subject I wanted answers on. I let that thought stick in my head for a moment.

This was not the way to handle this. I needed to ask Rex what was really going on with our relationship. That was the mature thing to do. And I needed to ask Riley what he was thinking. And I needed to choose between the two.

But who would it be? I fell asleep, wondering.

*   *   *

I woke up at 11:00 the next morning. Clearly I'd needed rest. Riley's door was still closed. I very carefully opened it to see him and Philby snuggled up forehead to forehead. That had to be a real meeting of the minds. After taking a few pics with my spy camera I let them be, and after taking a shower, I poured a bowl of Lucky Charms, threw in some chocolate chips, and chased it with a Diet Coke. What?

My cell rang. "Hi Dad," I answered with a mouthful of sugar.

"Hey Pumpkin! I've got some orders for you."

My dad had done really well. He'd sold over 400 boxes, and the names on the list read like a political
Who's Who
.

"And your mom wants some shortbread," he finished.

"How is Mom?" I asked, knowing she was fine and fabulous as usual. Geneva Czrygy was a force to be reckoned with. Beautiful and smart, I'd always felt her talents were wasted on DC society. But then, what did I know?

"She's at a Red Cross fundraiser right now. She sends her love," Dad said as we finished the call. I transferred the orders to the forms the Council had given, wondering if they'd believe that the White House Chief of Staff really ordered 100 boxes of lemon cookies.

Because of this, I was feeling better and a bit sugar-buzzed half an hour later when the doorbell rang. It had to be Kelly, I imagined, convinced she wanted to read me the riot act about the night before.

But no, it was Rex darkening my stoop. He wasn't in a suit. Must be the weekend.

"Is it Saturday?" I asked as I opened the door.

Rex looked at me funny. "Strange way to answer the door, but yes. It is Saturday."

"Oh. Okay. Come in," I said. How was I missing what day it was? I didn't have a normal job…or any job…that must be it.

"Actually, I just stopped by to see if you're free tonight."

I frowned, "Do you have another ex-girlfriend you want me to meet?"

"No." Rex scowled. "I can't even get Angela to return my calls today."

I didn't feel bad about that. But it occurred to me that at some point, I'd have to give him the bad news. I'd have to make an effort to do it without skipping and screaming
Yay!
over and over.

"I was going to see if you wanted to come to my house for dinner. I think we need to talk."

And just like that, my mood crashed to the floor. I haven't had a lot of experience dating. But I'd watched enough Dr. Phil in the last year to know that "we need to talk" is bad.

I went back to my Lucky Charms, but my heart wasn't in it. Riley joined me in the kitchen, setting Philby on the counter.

"You're eating that?" he asked, pointing to the sugary goodness.

"I'll have you know, it's got multivitamins in it and is part of a complete breakfast." I shoved the bowl aside. Philby walked over and started to lap up the rainbow colored milk.

Riley made some toast with jelly and joined me. "I think I know what the secret is with this cat."

"What secret?" I asked.

"What B-O-B-B wants with him," Riley said.

Philby looked up at him suspiciously. I was beginning to think he could spell. But the cat just lowered his face and was back at the milk.

"What does he want?" I was starting to sound like a broken record.

"We both talked about this but must've forgotten. Remember that Dr. Rye scanned him for a microchip?" Riley pointed to the back of Philby's neck. Philby ignored him.

"But he didn't find one," I said.

"Right. But just before he didn't find one, he said he felt something strange."

I nodded. "He said it was a fatty tumor or something."

Riley put his fingertips on the back of Philby's neck and rolled a bit of skin between his thumb and fingers. "Feel this." Philby didn't seem to notice.

I did as asked, and I did feel something. "Oh, wow. It's a mini SD card! Like the one in my spy camera!"

Riley looked at me. "I didn't even know you knew about those. You'd always given me the camera."

"I tried to have some photos made at Walgreens with it the other day…"

"You what?" Riley's voice was loud. I didn't like it. "You showed someone a sensitive, covert piece of technology?"

"Forget it," I waved him off. "The girl there was possibly lobotomized as a child. She had no clue."

"I really need you to turn that in." Riley held out his hand.

"Turn what in?" I feigned innocence.

"The camera," he snarled.

"What camera?" I batted my eyelashes like Angela had at dinner. It seemed to work for her.

"I'll get it later. Stop distracting me." He pointed at the cat again. "I think Lenny put something in your cat's neck. Something with state secrets. That's what Bobb wants."

Philby hissed violently at us, spraying multi-colored milk everywhere.

"I can never have a friend with that name now," I sighed.

"So do you think Kelly can do it?" Riley asked.

I froze and stared at him. "You want Kelly to operate on my cat? No way! She can stitch up comatose bimbos any time, but I won't let her cut into my pet!"

Riley scratched his head. "I was hoping to avoid Dr. Rye finding out."

"You don't have a CIA veterinarian?" I asked. "We've had issues involving animals before. Remember that weird goose that ate the microfiche in Honduras?"

"We didn't use a vet for that." Riley glared. "We killed and ate the goose, if you can remember."

"Oh, yeah," I said, staring off into space. "It was pretty good too."

"I don't want to take Philby to DC. We're running out of time. Maybe if we can look at the intel, we can figure out what's going on." Riley said.

"So we do have a CIA vet?" I asked. I'd always wondered. Maybe Lupe the goose didn't have to die.

Riley dialed his cell. "That's classified. I'm calling Rye. Maybe he can see us today."

After he talked to the vet, Riley called Suzanne to bring her up to speed. I heard her ask about the SD card, and Riley told her we wouldn't need the safe house any more. She could go back to her usual business, something I was sure she was grateful for.

My cell rang. "What's up?" I asked Kelly.

"We have a cookie booth sale today," she said. After I said nothing for a moment, she added, "You forgot again. Didn't you?"

I really needed to get a calendar. "No! I knew it was today!"

"I'm waiting for you at the curb."

I hung up and let Riley know I had something to do. He told me Dr. Rye could see us in the afternoon, so I had some time.

I left Riley with Philby and went out to meet Kelly.

As we pulled up to the grocery store, I knew we were in trouble. The pinched, hostile face of Juliette Dowd greeted us. She was pacing beside the six-foot table the store had set up, angrily punching her clipboard with a closed fist. What had I done to piss this woman off?

"Something wrong?" I asked as Kelly unloaded the cases of cookies and the girls started to arrive. We had six girls (and no Kaitlins) signed up for the booth, and they all arrived in two minivans.

She stabbed a finger in my direction. "I don't like you, Ms. Wrath. I don't think you're an appropriate role model for these girls." I wondered if she was a robot who only had those two things to say. Couldn't she come up with something better?

I shrugged. "That's too bad. Because they love me." I wasn't going to screw around with this bitch. Life was too short. Sometimes, people just didn't like you, and that's that. Some folks couldn't handle it. I could, because being liked by everyone didn't matter to me.

"What's going on here?" Kelly muscled her way into the conversation. "What's your problem, Ms. Dowd? Are we doing something wrong?"

Okay, except for the fact that Kelly wanted people to like me.

"I don't have any problem with you." She pointed at my best friend. "But I do question your judgment in choosing this woman as your co-leader." The redhead was practically spitting.

"You're not nice, and I don't like you!" Little Ava was standing between me and Dowd. It was so cute how she defended me.

"You're behaving badly, Ms. Dowd," Kelly snarled. "I really hope you don't end up in my emergency room when I'm working there."