Rest in Pieces (18 page)

“That sounds really uncomfortable—the sandwich board thing.” He pointed to the stars in Orion’s belt.

“Who’s bugging my house?” And why? What had Molly been into? “How is this related to Molly?”

I shivered. I was freezing. It had to be in the forties tonight. Daman shrugged out of his black leather jacket and hung it on my shoulders. It smelled like him and I drew in a long breath. Drug lords and chivalry—did they have a code of honor or something?

“Yep, we’re on camera.” He nodded his head slightly to the left and pointed up at the stars again. “On your six o’clock. Don’t look.”

Had Daman been in the military? I actually knew that “on your six” was a military term, based on all of those war movies David used to haul me to.

“Copy that.” I decided to speak military too. We had a theme going, best not to change it.

“Kiss me.” He was all serious.

“Why?” It sounded a lot like no. He was hot—there was no arguing that, but he may or may not be a drug lord. He’d brought dinner, though and I kind of wanted to kiss him. Indecision, this is why it takes me an hour to pick out something to wear in the morning.

“Because all of this pointing is making my arm tired.” He cut his gaze toward me. “Does all of that thinking hurt? It looks like you’re trying to recall all million digits of pi.”

“Oh…I like pie, especially a la mode.” It‘s not I didn’t want to kiss him, but he had the whole bad boy thing going. And I’d given up bad boys around the time I’d gotten divorced.

“Seriously, I’m a terrific kisser.” He nodded.

“Is this the part where you pull out the breath spray and squirt it in your mouth?” Because I’d already been through that with Dr. Dick.

“I would if my arm wasn’t shaking from pointing up at the night sky.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “Do you have any breath spray? Feel free to squirt it at any time.”

Crap, did I need breath spray? The pizza sauce did have a lot of garlic. Was there a way to discreetly smell my breath?

Daman lowered his hand, turned to me, and slid both of his hands around my waist. His head lowered. Gently, he kissed one corner of my mouth and then the other before his soft lips settled on mine. Oh yeah, he could kiss. His tongue slid passed my open lips and did some swirly thing that sent pleasure tingling all the way down to my toes.

He ended the kiss and pulled me into his chest for a hug. That’s when I noticed that my hands had fisted in his shirt like I was trying to crawl up him. I let the shirt go and smoothed it down. Underneath, Daman had some hard, nice pecs. He gave me one last tight squeeze and then let me go.

I glanced behind me checking my six. There was nothing. I shrugged off his jacket and handed it back to him. “There is no camera.”

He grinned like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “No ma’am, I just wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh my God.” I punched him on the arm. “You made that up? Did you make up the bugs too?”

I reached for the doorknob, but he got there first.

“Nope. Your house has more microphones than the SETI listening station.” He whispered. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a jamming device that you can use when you need a little privacy. I can’t remove the bugs, because then whoever bugged you will know that you’re on to them. You can’t use the jammer all of the time or again, they’ll know. Just use it when you’re talking about Molly Miars. I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

I touched his arm. “Why are you helping me?”

“I like you.” He let the full meaning of that fall between us. “A lot.”

What does it say about me that I was suspicious? A hot guy stumbles into my life to teach me gun safety and debug my house? All because he spends a couple of hours with me one Saturday? I didn’t believe it for one minute. Daman knew something about Molly’s death, and I aimed to find out what it was.

Chapter 14

The next morning my cell phone thundered out “All About That Bass.” Letting people pick out their own personal ringtone for my phone was a bad idea.

I rolled over and picked up my phone. It was six–thirty–two in the morning. Hadn’t we talked about Monica not calling before noon on Saturdays? Freakin’ morning people; there ought to be a law against awakeness before noon.

“You better have found the real reason for daylight savings time and are rooting out the evil that keeps it alive.” I might be yelling, but it was too early for my brain to work.

“The key belongs to a safety deposit box.” Monica sounded triumphant.

“Key?” It took me a nanosecond for my brain to process her words. I sat up. “The key. A safety deposit box to which bank?”

The only thing Lakeside had more of than old people were banks. There were four on every corner—banks, not old people.

“No clue.” All of the air went out of Monica’s sails.

“How did you figure out the safety deposit box part?” I yawned and stretched. Morning people were right up there with phone solicitors and carb–haters on my list of evildoers.

“It turns out that there’s an app for key identification. I used the picture I took of it and the program identified it as a safety deposit box key. I think we need to go to Molly’s house and find out where she banks.” Monica returned my yawn. Apparently they were contagious even over the phone.

“I didn’t find a bank statement or anything like that before, but I wasn’t really looking for it.” My phone buzzed with another call. I pulled it away from my ear to find Haley’s face on my screen. “Hang on, Hals on the other line. Let me conference her in.”

I put Monica on hold and answered Haley’s call.

“Daman kissed you last night, and you didn’t call me?” To say she was accusatory was putting it mildly.

“Hang on, Monica’s on the other line. She figured out that the key is for a safety deposit box.” I conferenced them in. “Okay, we’re all on the line.”

What if my cell phone was bugged? Crap. My brain was working now.

“Y’all hang on. Give me a minute.” I threw off my pink comforter, the only extravagance I’d allowed myself after David left. I burned all of the bedding and everything of his that I couldn’t sell. With the proceeds of the David’s stuff yard sale, I’d bought yummy soft, pink, thousand thread–count sheets and a matching comforter. A girl had to have some vices.

With my phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, I stumbled into the kitchen. Did I mention that I’m not a morning person? I grabbed the bug detector device I’d dubbed the bug zapper and flicked the power switch to on. I held it next to my phone. The lights on the front lit up like the Christmas tree in Zilker Park.

Well, double crap.

Whoever was listening now knew we had a safety deposit box key.

I put the phone back to my ear. “I can’t talk right now. Are y’all up for pancakes at Kerby Lane?”

“I could eat some pancakes.” Monica was in.

“Okay, thirty minutes?” Haley dropped the phone and then picked it up again. “Sorry. I’m back. Yes, we can do Kerby Lane. Wait, make it forty–five minutes. I need to get the girls ready. Today is Anise’s day off.”

“Forty–five minutes at The Lane.” I hung up and headed to the bathroom. Now whoever that was listening knew we were going to Kerby Lane. That was probably bad. Would they be waiting at the Westlake Restaurant? Was my bathroom bugged? Besides the toilet flushing and shower water hitting the drain, why would anyone bug a bathroom? I turned around and picked up the bug zapper. I wasn’t comfortable with someone listening to me shower. It made me feel dirty, and since the shower was the only way for me to feel clean, it would be very bad if someone bugged my bathroom. What if I burst into song or decided to recite the facts we’d found in Molly’s case aloud as I lathered, rinsed, and repeated?

Was I being overly paranoid?

I watched the bug zapper like a hawk. Not once did it light up in my lavatory. So the people on the other end of my listening devices weren’t perverts? Well, that’s a relief. Funny, it didn’t make me feel any better.

Forty–three minutes later, Max and I walked into Kerby Lane. The upscale diner with its white and chrome color scheme and occasional pops of lime green looked more South Beach–y than Westlake–y. At least this is what I thought South Beach would look like, but I’d never been there.

Haley, her girls, and Monica and her son Landon, were seated at two tables that had been pushed together in the front left corner of the restaurant. Besides the staff, we were the only ones here. Well, at seven–thirty in the morning, I guess so. The rest of the world was sleeping.

As soon as Max saw Landon, he dropped my hand and ran to his friend. I followed behind him, walking of course. I left my phone in the car on purpose. I watched TV. Bad guys could use the microphone in my phone to hear our whole conversation. And Hollywood was always one–hundred percent accurate—really.

Daman had said that I couldn’t remove the bugs, so I’d have to start doing things without my phone.

I leaned down and hugged Haley from behind. I whispered close to her ear. “My phone and house are bugged. Hand me your phone and let me see if yours is, too.”

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind and then shrugged and gave me her phone.

“What’s going on?” Monica called from across the table. “Haley looks like she’s just seen a ghost.”

“Nothing.” I shot her a shut–up look.

It must have worked because she shut up.

I pulled the bug zapper from my purse and held it up to Haley’s phone. It didn’t go off. I walked around to Monica and whispered, “my phone and home are bugged. Let me check your phone.”

“Really?” She didn’t look convinced, but she handed me her phone. I held the bug zapper against it. Nothing happened.

“Both of your phones are clean.” I sat at the head of the two tables, which meant that Monica and Haley were on either side of me. The kids sat around the other table talking Minecraft.

Monica and Haley both stared at me expectantly.

“Spill. Now.” Monica was losing her calm. Not that she’d ever had that much to begin with, but it was definitely on the decline.

I glanced at Max. He wasn’t paying attention to anything but the iPad where he and Landon were building something in Minecraft.

“Last night, when we got home, Daman was waiting for us. He invited himself to dinner, but in all fairness he brought pizza, so I was okay with that plan. I told him that I didn’t know anything about his missing diamonds in case he was here about those.”

“Good thinking, because a drug dealer is so honest and trustworthy.” Monica’s tone implied an eye roll, but I was watching Max so I missed it.

“He’s a drug lord, not a dealer. He’s management.” Haley whispered as she watched her girls. “That’s better, right?”

Slowly, Monica and I turned our heads to stare at her.

“Yeah. That’s so much better.” Monica was the queen of sarcasm. This time I got to see her eye roll in all its glory.

“Management is always good.” Haley said under her breath.

“Anyway, he told me that he thought my house was bugged and he brought this.” I held up the bug zapper. “He was right. There are bugs in every room except the bathroom. My phone is bugged, too.”

“Why?” Monica crossed her arms and leaned back.

“Molly. Apparently she was into something bad…very bad. Our looking into her death is getting attention.” I felt a little overdramatic.

One corner of Monica’s mouth curled up. “Aren’t you being overdramatic?”

Nailed it.

“That was my first reaction when Daman suggested it, but once he swept my house for bugs, it was clear that he knew what he was talking about.” It was still hard to believe that anyone cared enough about little ole me to listen in on my conversations.

“Has it ever occurred to you that he might have planted those bugs?” Monica put the skeptic in skeptic. “Let me guess…he told you not to remove the bugs because the,” she threw up some air quotes, “bad people would know that you’re on to them.”

That certainly made more sense than Molly being into something shady. “You mean so he could find his stolen diamonds? Crap. I feel like an idiot.”

He’d plied me with pizza and then played me like a pair of aces on poker night. Was ‘idiot’ stamped on my forehead? I almost went to the bathroom to look.

“Think about it. If he wasn’t in on it, how would he know that your house was bugged? It’s not like house bugging is a common thing. I’ve certainly never had a friend come over and say ‘hey, I think your house is bugged.’ It’s weird.” Monica picked up her Diet Coke and sipped.

I knew it was Diet Coke because that’s all she ever drank. I’d heard somewhere that Diet Coke had so many preservatives that it keeps your body from decomposing after you’re dead. I’m pretty sure that in a thousand years, Monica will look exactly like she does now. Maybe Diet Coke was the fountain of youth?

“He’s going to be pretty bored listening at my house.” I felt like a fool.

“Unless…he was telling the truth.” Haley wanted to believe that all was good and kind in the world. “There’s a simple way of telling if he’s being honest, let’s see if our houses are bugged. If all he wants are the diamonds, why bug our houses?”

“He may think that we might know where they are.” Monica’s voice wavered. “That is a stretch. I’m game. After breakfast, let’s head to my house and see.”

It seemed like a lot of extra work to bug their houses on the off chance that I’d bring it up while visiting them. If this was related to Molly, then it’s reasonable that their houses would be bugged, too. Part of me wanted their houses to be bugged because I liked Daman…all his drug lording aside.

“Now to the kissing part…” Haley—ever the romantic—wasn’t going to let this go.

“How did you know about that?” I was constantly amazed by Haley’s ability to glean information. She had Lakeside wired as well as my house.

“Dulce told her sister Marisol that she’d seen you kissing him out by the recycle bin last night. Marisol plays bridge with Becky Sims, who told her personal chef Gabriel. He also cooks for Nat and John Holder, who live three houses down from me. Nat and I are both on the Performing Arts board, and she mentioned the kiss to me while we were hashing out the refreshments for the next board meeting.”