Temperature's Rising (25 page)

“Sure, I’ll show you the way.”

“Oh no, don’t trouble yourself. I’m sure I can find it.

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Karen Kelley

Just point me in the right direction.” She hoped her smile was warm and friendly.

Once inside the house, Jessica hurried down the hall and made a quick detour from the way Trudy had told her to go. She opened the first door she came to.

A linen closet. Sliding her hands underneath towels and sheets, she searched for anything that felt out of place. Nothing.

Closing the door, she hurried to the next room. As soon as she slipped inside, she knew this had to be George and Trudy’s bedroom. It looked as if a huge caul-dron of Pepto had boiled over, coating everything pink, from the walls to the shag carpet. Sickening. She blinked several times to get her equilibrium back in kilter.

The pink bed, walls, and floor were bad enough, but pink lace ruffles and feathers adorned everything from the canopy to the curtains to the frilly chair that had been placed against one wall. Trudy had created the first Pepto infinity bedroom. It was enough to make the most stal-wart stomach queasy.

She went straight for the closet and opened the door. A walk-in. Nice, except it overflowed with Trudy’s unfash-ionable wardrobe and George’s rainbow of suits. It was still better than looking at all the vomit-pink color.

Shaking her head, she stretched her arms upward, her nimble fingers darting around and under boxes on the top shelf. Nothing.

She knelt on the floor, careful not to disturb the shoes neatly lined against the back wall. There had to be at least fifty pairs. But something was shoved in the far corner that didn’t look like it belonged.

Her pulse quickened. Was it going to be this easy?

Just half an inch more and she’d be able to reach . . .

there, she had it. Exultation filled her. The tape! Why else would they have hidden it? Her father’s job would be saved. This was plenty of evidence to put the burglars TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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away. Her dad would be able to get a confession and make them name the ringleader.

“Is there something you were lookin’ for?” Barry’s voice came from behind her.

Her heart plummeted. Damn it! She should’ve been listening for someone to enter the room. Slowly, she came to her feet and turned around to face him, keeping her arms and the tape behind her. She had to think—and fast!

Barry’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. Cripes! He would have to be the one to catch her prowling around. She could’ve handled George. But Barry? She wasn’t so sure about him.

Batting her lashes, she smiled coquettishly. “Oops, caught red-handed.”

What to do? She couldn’t drop the tape and let it clunk to the floor. There was only one solution that she could see. Carefully, she inched up the back of her shirt.

Oh lord, she was stealing evidence. This wasn’t good.

Conor would strangle her. She took a deep breath. She’d get the tape back somehow. Besides, she had to make sure this was the right tape, anyway.

If she didn’t screw everything up.

She had to convince Barry she was doing no more than snooping. Okay, here goes nothing.

“I got lost looking for the bathroom. When I stumbled into this room I just knew it had to be Trudy’s. The best way to find out about another woman is to look in her closet.” She sucked her stomach in, keeping her smile in place, and slipped the tape inside the elastic waistband at the back of her slacks.

Her smile faltered. The weight caused the tape to slide downward to the seat of her pants.
This must be what
hemorrhoids feel like.
She was never so glad she’d worn a long shirttail as she was today. It would easily hide the evidence. If she didn’t move too suddenly.

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Karen Kelley

Praying her tactics didn’t get her into more trouble, she sauntered forward. “I just wanted to see what kind of person Trudy is. You’re not going to tell, are you?” She pouted.

When he hesitated, she reached out and trailed a fingernail down the front of his shirt. “I promise I won’t ever go where I don’t belong again.”

Stay calm, she told herself. Remember what you’ve been taught. But she couldn’t use any of her self-defense training. As sure as she did, their cover would be blown.

Then she’d have to explain everything to Conor. He’d kill her, and her father would lose his job.

“I been watchin’ you all evening.” His nostrils flared like overinflated balloons. “I saw the way you was lookin’

at me. I knowed you wanted me. I got this really bad itch for you, baby.”

Maybe he just had fleas.

Instead of offering to buy him a flea collar, she smiled prettily. “I wondered if you had noticed.” Now she was going to be sick.

“There’s a soft place we can do a little scratchin’.” He motioned toward George and Trudy’s four-poster bed.

Her eyes widened. She briefly wondered if George and Trudy would think anything about a dead body in their room. She could paint Barry pink. Maybe they would just think he was a rasp-
Barry
?

He took a step toward her. “Why rile Conor when we don’t have to, sweetie?” Her words spilled out as she tried to think of something that would waylay his advances.

“We can meet somewhere and he wouldn’t have to be the wiser. Just you and me.”

She almost gagged. Not only on her lies, but the sour smell of his breath. Was the man afraid of vampires or what? He smelled like rotten garlic.

His chuckle echoed through the room. He’d bought TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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her act.
Don’t relax yet,
she told herself. She had to stay on top of the game.

“I thought you was newlyweds?”

She shrugged. “He’s boring in bed. I need a real man.” Her voice was husky and reminded her of an old B-movie starlet. She wondered if she should bat her eyes again for more effect. No, she didn’t want to push her luck.

“Well, you found a real man here.” He latched on to her hand.

Ugh! Slimed. She’d picked up a frog once that was less clammy.

“Jessica! Where’d you go?” Conor called.

“Oh, no. He can’t catch me here with you.” She almost did panic when Barry didn’t loosen his hold.

“Where we gonna meet?”

“I’ll call you, sugar.” That seemed to appease him, and he let her go. Without a backward glance, she hurried from the room, scrubbing her hand on the hem of her shirt. When she reached the hall, Trudy and Conor were just coming from the kitchen. She screeched to a halt and tried to slow the erratic beat of her heart.

“There you are, hon—I was starting to worry.” Jessica met Conor’s gaze and saw more than worry mirrored in his eyes. She had a feeling she’d catch hell as soon as they got home.

“Uh . . .” She frantically sought a plausible explanation for her long absence. “It must have been the beans.

I’m a little queasy.” That excuse had worked for him, why not her? At least she hadn’t popped his bed and used most of his aftershave!

“Y’all sure you’re from Texas? I haven’t ever seen two people with as sensitive stomachs as the both of you.” Trudy shook her head in amazement.

“It was a lovely supper, Trudy,” Conor politely stated.

His jaw twitched. Definitely irritated. Conor wasn’t as 218

Karen Kelley

calm as he appeared. Trouble brewed, and she didn’t have an escape route. She squared her shoulders. Nothing to do except face the storm head-on.

“Yes, lovely,” she quickly chimed in.

She could probably think of some reason to stay a little longer, but that would only delay the inevitable. Besides, the tape was uncomfortable in the seat of her pants.

Going off to investigate had been crazy. It wasn’t as if she’d had any real surveillance training. And she’d very nearly blown their cover—again. But she had to admit the intrigue was exciting. Maybe she’d given up on being a cop a little too soon.

And then, maybe not. Now she had another problem to contend with—Barry, and the tape she had to return. This was the one, though. She could feel it all the way down to her bones. Her father wouldn’t lose his job.

Excitement bubbled inside her. She’d done it. Barry didn’t matter in the least.

How could Conor berate her when she’d found some of the evidence? A little longer, and she probably could’ve found the jewels that were on the list of stolen goods.

“Conor, I . . .” she began as he hurried her across the lawn like a disobedient child. Jeez! The tape was bouncing around in her pants worse than a pickup on a country road.

“Save it until we get inside.” His words were short and clipped.

Conor’s hand tightened on her arm. She didn’t think he realized how hard he squeezed.

“Could you at least loosen your grip?” Without even an apology, he eased his hold, but didn’t release her until they reached the house, and then only long enough to jerk the door open. As soon as she was free, Jessica slid around him and inside to the living room. He slammed the door and followed.

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“What the hell did you think you were doing back there?” He didn’t make any attempt to hide his anger.

“Well,
you
didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I just thought I’d investigate a little on my own.” Conor couldn’t believe it. Of all the stupid, female stunts! He raked a hand through his hair. “Not getting anywhere? What the hell did you think I was doing, Jessica? Maybe you should’ve stayed on the streets long enough to know we don’t play games when we’re on a stakeout.”

Why didn’t she look apologetic? His eyes narrowed.

He’d been around her long enough to know she was up to something. Hell, she looked as smug as a cat that’d just caught a fat mouse.

“At least I came up with something concrete,” she stated with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What?” he asked cautiously.

Reaching behind her, Jessica began to squirm. Finally, she pulled a tape from the back of her slacks. “I have the mayor’s tape! This should get my father off the hook—at least until we can find more proof they’re behind the burglaries.” She was almost jumping with excitement.

“You stole evidence?” Didn’t she realize she could never get a conviction that way?

“I didn’t actually steal it.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“More like
borrowed it.
I’ll get it back.” He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Are you sure it’s even the right tape?”

She tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Well . . . no. Not positively, but it was the only tape I saw in the whole house.

It has to be the right one. Why else would it be hidden?” A flicker of doubt crossed her face.

“No better time than now to find out.” Taking the tape, he strolled across the room to the VCR and popped it in.

He turned the television on and pushed a button.

When he started to step back he almost stumbled over 220

Karen Kelley

Jessica, who’d sat on the floor right in front of the TV. She scooted over. He continued to stand.

The screen went from black to the interior of a bedroom.

A man suddenly jumped into the camera’s eye, arms flung outward, wearing what looked like a caveman’s costume.

“I am-a Tarzan, King of the Jungle! Where-a is my little slave-a girl?”

Okay, he’d been wrong. It hadn’t been a caveman’s suit, after all. He should’ve guessed from the leopard print. The costume looked two sizes too big, but it still wasn’t long enough to hide George’s knobby knees or his bony arms.

George brought his fists to his hairless chest and did a fair imitation of a jungle man, even if it sounded a little on the soprano side.

Conor glanced down at Jessica and felt a moment of pity. Her mouth had dropped open. Apparently sensing he watched her, she glanced up, confusion written across her features. She turned back to the TV screen.

“Here I am, my big strong he-man,” Trudy said, out of the camera’s view.

“Okay, Trudy. Now we need you to come in right after you say your line. Let me adjust this just a little.” Conor took a step back as a face zoomed in and filled the entire screen. Kind of scary-looking. Kind of familiar, too. His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that the—”

“—UPS worker. Looks like her.”

At least now they knew why she was hugging the box that was about the size of a VCR tape. They were making porn movies. His attention returned to the screen as Trudy bounced into view, wearing a tiny G-string and barely hiding her ample breasts behind her hands.

“Turn it off. Turn it off!” Jessica shrieked.

Conor pushed the Stop button and the screen went black again. Jessica covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

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He should let her know how furious he was that she’d taken such a stupid chance, but how could he when she was obviously so upset? At least this had been a good lesson for her to learn. She probably wouldn’t take matters in her own hands again.

Had that been a laugh? “Jessica?” She moved her hands away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her shoulders shook with unmistakable mirth.

He frowned. “You think almost blowing our cover is funny? And all because George and Trudy make porn movies?”

“No,” she squeaked, then began to laugh in earnest, not even trying to cover the fact she thought the situation humorous. She fell over sideways on the carpet, holding her stomach. “Oh, my belly hurts.” Her gaze fastened on his. “And it’s not from beans!” She went into another fit of giggles.

Conor didn’t even crack a smile, although it wasn’t easy as he watched her merriment. That only seemed to make her laugh harder.

“George, George . . . George of the jungle,” she sang off-key, and then took off with more gales of laughter.

“He could be the next Italian Stallion. Or more like the Italian Shetland.”

“There’s nothing funny about this.” He really tried to keep a straight face, but the more he thought about it, the more a picture of skinny George swinging on a vine through a jungle came to mind.

Trudy’s arms wrapped around his middle. Her bouffant hairdo catching on every tree limb they swung past.

There hadn’t been any real harm done. Maybe he needed to lighten up a little. He’d talk seriously to Jessica later. Right now she looked so damn cute, he couldn’t be angry with her.