Rest in Pieces (6 page)

“Okay Mom, just let me finish this.” Max banged away on the keyboard building something on Minecraft.

“Wait…sorry. I forgot that you’re low carb.” I searched my brain for a low carb beverage. “Want some water?”

“Beer’s fine.” Ben walked to the kitchen and started unloading the bag. “I didn’t know what you like, so I got a little of everything.”

I grabbed a bottle of Shiner from the fridge and handed it to him. “I’ll do that. Relax. You brought dinner, the least I can do is unpack it.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” He shrugged out of his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, and then walked over to the front door and picked up a leather messenger bag. “I brought you a present.”

“Cool. I need another messenger bag.” I laughed. Again with appreciating my own jokes. At least I’d said that one out loud.

“Ha. Ha.” He pulled out a manila file folder, brought it over, and handed it to me. “Here.”

He glanced at Max off in Minecraft land. “You need to keep it to yourself.”

I unloaded the last large paper–wrapped bundle, wiped my hands on a dishtowel, and took the folder. Inside was a single photograph.

“That’s the entire Molly Miars file.” He was standing so close that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes.

Another serious smolder alert. I managed to pull my gaze away from his long enough to glance at the picture. It was a picture of Molly Miars’s body and her little dog, too. My mind said the last part of that sentence in the voice of Dorothy’s Wicked Witch of a neighbor.

“Thanks.” I have to say that I expected a chalk outline. It was kind of disappointing that there wasn’t one.

I glanced at Max to make sure he was still in Minecraft land and looked down at the photo. It was in color; I don’t know why I’d thought crime scene photos were black and white.

I studied the photo. Molly’s body was on her left side at an odd angle, but her head was facing up with her eyes open. Her dog seemed to have been stabbed or something else that would cause an open wound because there was a trail of blood coming from somewhere out of the frame all the way to Molly. It was like he’d pulled himself over to her. Paolo, his name had been Paolo. Molly had called him her Pomeranian boyfriend.

“Can I keep this?” I needed to go over with a magnifying glass and the girls needed to see it. Maybe between all three of us, we could find a clue.

Ben shrugged. “I guess. It’s a copy, the original’s in evidence.”

“You’re the bestest.” I gave him a quick hug. At least it started out as a quick hug, but Ben pulled me in tight against him. Sculpted abs and pecs crushed against me.

“Mommmm.” Max sounded honestly scandalized.

Ben dropped his arms and stepped back.

Max’s eyes were the size of cupcakes.

“What?” I put my hands on my hips. “Grownups hug and kiss and sometimes more than that.”

“But you said you weren’t going to have sex with him.” Max cocked his head to the left.

I could feel my face light up like a red neon sign. Some women blush prettily, I turn lobster red. I avoided Ben’s gaze.

“If you think that was sex, clearly I need to be more specific. We’ll discuss it later.” I slipped the picture back in the folder and finally turned to Ben. “I’ll be right back. I need to put this away.”

I needed to hide it somewhere that Max would never find it. When David was around and I wanted to hide something from him, my old standby was to put whatever it was in my tampon box. But this was larger than the tampon box. I walked into my bedroom and looked around. Under the mattress, just like they did it in the movies. After pulling up the corner and slipping it under, I walked back into the kitchen.

Ben had unwrapped most of the food and set it on the kitchen table.

“Max, please set the table. This is the second time I’ve asked.” I was using my mommy voice. I don’t know where it came from, but it showed up sometime after I’d given birth.

“Okay.” He typed some more and then pushed away from the computer. He stood on his tip–toes to reach the cabinet, opened it, pulled three plates down, grabbed three forks and knives from the drawer in front of them, and went to the table. He set the plates down, a fork and knife on either side, and then grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the basket in the middle of the table. He placed one under the knife.

“Good job, Buddy.” Ben nodded.

Max rolled his eyes up to meet Ben’s. “Mom makes me do it a lot.”

He made it sound like I beat him regularly, lock him in a closet, and only let him out to set the table.

“Moms can be like that. Mine made me make my bed every morning and take the trash out.” Ben clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Moms can be tough.”

I pulled two glasses out of the cabinet, filled them with ice from the door in the freezer, and then pressed the water button, filling them with water. I brought them to the table and set one in front of Max and the other in front of my plate. “Yep, we moms are a mean species. It’s a wonder you lived through having one.”

“I know.” Ben grinned. “Does the ability to look at your child and know what they’ve done wrong come automatically or is there some practice involved?”

“Yep, it grows in the womb along with the baby. So do the eyes in the back of our heads, the ability to spot a lie a mile away, and hurling shoes to get your attention when you’re too far away to feel the full weight of the mommy death glare. Motherhood is a package deal.”

“Sounds like it.” With his fork, Ben stabbed one of the three Fred Flintstone sized beef ribs and put it on his plate.

Max took one and they turned to look at me. Not that I wasn’t a fan of giant–sized beef products, it’s more that I was a chicken kind of girl.

I checked out all of the meat options. Chicken, turkey and sausage along with a mountain of brisket. That was a lot of dead animals. I picked up a white Styrofoam container and popped off the lid. “Cream corn…cool.”

I poured a huge glob of corn onto my plate, along with some turkey. Using my knife, I cut off a hunk of chicken. I opened the remaining three Styrofoam containers to find squash casserole, potato salad, and coleslaw.

“I thought after dinner, we could kick the soccer ball around, if you’d like.” Ben watched Max.

“Sure.” Max’s face lit up. “We’ve got a game tomorrow afternoon against the Strikers. They beat us last year.”

“What position do you play?” Ben used a paper napkin to wipe his mouth and then he took a sip of his beer.

“Midfielder.” Max said around a huge bite of meat. I would have chided him for talking with his mouth full, but I’ve been known to do the same thing, so it seemed hypocritical.

“I don’t know much about soccer, maybe you could teach me?” Ben nodded.

“Sure.” Max tone was all importance.

“What time is your game?” I’d forgotten about it.

“I think it’s at four. Why?” Max was gnawing on the rib bone. It seemed that Fred Flintstone–sized meat brought out the caveman in my son.

“Haley’s teaching me to shoot tomorrow morning. You’re going to the park with Reese and Riley and Landon. Landon’s grandmother’s watching you. Y’all are picnicking.”

“Cool.” Max grinned. He had a crush on Riley.

“You’re learning how to shoot a gun? Why?” Ben wiped his mouth again, sat back and looked at me.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. My friend Haley seems to think I need to know how to handle a gun. She’s taking us to someone’s house. I can’t remember his name, but he has a gun range in his house. His butler is a gunsmith.”

I’ve always wanted a butler, but I’ve never understood what they do, besides opening the front door. Do they just wait around for someone to knock on the door? People rarely come to my door, so my butler would be pretty bored.

“Daman Rodriguez.” Ben’s eyes narrowed and five lines popped up on his forehead.

“Yes, I think that’s right.” I scooped up a forkful of creamed corn and popped it in my mouth. It was sweet and a little spicy with a hint of jalapeno.

“He’s not a…” Ben looked like he was choosing his words carefully, “a very nice person. If you know what I mean.” He shot me a look full of hidden meaning that I was supposed to get but didn’t.

‘Not nice’ could mean a lot of things. Did Daman eat small children by the light of the full moon or tailgate the elderly? There were many, many levels of ‘not nice.’

“I don’t understand.” I needed a qualifier.

He glanced at Max and then back at me. “Rodriguez is kind of shady.”

“Okay.” So did that mean he cheated on his taxes? Or was he a serial killer?

“I’m finished.” Max scooted back from the table. “I’ll go play in my room so y’all can finish dinner and talk about whatever it is that you don’t want me to know.”

I reached out and ruffled his hair. “You’re such a smart kid.”

Max shot me a grin. “I know.”

Ben laughed. “Can’t pull one over on you. Let me finish talking to your mom and then I’d like to kick the ball around with you. You can show me what a midfielder does.”

“Awesome.” Max high–fived Ben and then turned and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

Max seemed to genuinely like Ben.

“Great kid.” Ben smiled at me.

“Yes, he is.” I could go all false modesty, but Max is a great kid. “I don’t know where he gets it.”

“From you…he’s you, only younger and male.” Ben’s eyes twinkled in the fluorescent light.

“Thanks.” Could I make my eyes twinkle? I was going to have to work on that.

Ben glanced at the hallway to make sure Max was out of earshot. “Daman Rodriguez is the head of a Mexican drug cartel.”

It took a full minute for my brain to process that little bit of news. “Drug cartel? In Lakeside?” I watched him very carefully for signs that he was either joking or hallucinating.

“Six months ago, he shows up out of nowhere, has money to burn, buys an unfinished house and quadruples the size. I’ve run a background check on him. There is nothing prior to ten years ago. He didn’t exist. Nothing.” Ben crossed his legs at the knee. Something I usually found effeminate in men, but there was nothing girly about Ben. He oozed so much alpha maleness that my ovaries tingled.

“So just because there’s no record of him beyond ten years, he’s a drug lord?” I had a hard time believing the drug cartel angle. What kind of drugs were we talking? Did he run the black market Viagra trade out of his house? Viagra was really the only drug that would be of any interest to the folks of Lakeside…except for Metamucil, and since that was legal, I couldn’t see making a business out of it.

“He has a private air strip and we think he’s bringing in drugs from Mexico. There seem to be lots of planes coming and going from his land. We have him under surveillance, but we can’t catch him at anything.”

“The Lakeside PD has money for surveillance? Your budget must have grown quite a bit since David was in charge.” First a drug kingpin and now surveillance? Maybe Ben had gotten mad cow disease from that low–carb lifestyle.

“Well, it’s not so much surveillance as his neighbors spying on him. They have cameras aimed at his house. Never underestimate retirees. They have lots of free time.” Ben took another sip of his beer.

Surveillance by nosy neighbor. Were they deputized first? In this neck of the woods, you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a retiree. I bet he has legions of seniors at the ready to spy on everyone.

“And with this highly sophisticated level of surveillance, what have you found out?” If they knew Daman was a drug lord, then why didn’t they arrest him?

Ben avoided eye contact. “Nothing. He’s squeaky clean.”

I sat back and eyed him. “Nothing? Then how do you know he’s a drug lord?”

“It’s a hunch.” He finally made eye contact. “How about I teach you how to use a gun? I’m off on Sunday. We could start then.”

He sounded so hopeful.

“Sure.” It seemed that everyone thought I needed to know how to use a firearm. Why didn’t anyone want to teach me how to use nunchucks? Those were much cooler looking than handguns.

A slow, sexy grin ambled across his face. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you and Max up around two. Then we can have dinner after.” Happiness radiated out of him.

“Wow, a second date.” I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t go on many of those. I’m the world’s foremost authority on first dates.”

“Really?” He laughed.

“You bet. You can ask me anything.” I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. He thought I was kidding. Well, the joke was on him.

He sat up and then leaned in close. “What do you think about this?”

His lips lightly brushed my closed ones while his hand cupped my cheek. Gently, his tongue parted my lips, darted inside my mouth, then looped slowly and deliciously around my own. Heat tingled through my body and my nipples went hard. Ben had some skills.

He pulled back, ran his thumb over my cheekbone one last time, and sat back.

“And?” He waited expectantly.

“What?” I had no idea what he was waiting for. I had to resist the urge to fan myself.

“What do you think about that?” The shit–eating grin on his face was way too confident.

I screwed up my face like I’d just bitten into a super sour dill pickle. “It was okay. On a scale of one to ten, it was like a six.” More like a six hundred, but since it had been a while since I’d had sex my scale could be a little off—or maybe completely broken.

“Liar.” He pointed to the front of my shirt.

I looked down. My nipples were poking through the fabric. From now on, I was wearing a lightly padded bra. “Wow, it’s cold in here.”

“Again, you’re a terrible liar.” He studied the front of my shirt and then looked away. “Nice.”

“I’m a fantastic liar, thank you very much.” And I was. Only the most accomplished of con artists could pull off a better lie than me.

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.” He winked. “That kiss was an eleven and you know it.”

I shook my head. “Maybe a seven and only because there was tongue.”

I tucked my index finger under his chin and pulled him into me. I kissed him hard, my tongue forcing its way into his mouth. I sucked lightly on his bottom lip and pulled back. “Now that was an eleven.”