The Homicide Hustle (19 page)

I tried to puzzle through the case on the Metro, crowded with rush hour commuters,
but the car’s swaying lulled me into a semi-sleeping state and I woke up in time to
get off at the King Street Station. I caught the trolley back toward my end of town
and walked into my house shortly after. My muscles had stiffened up again on the Metro
ride and I was ridiculously tired, considering it was only a bit after six o’clock.
Deciding not to fight it, I ate a light dinner, soaked in the tub (trying not to think
about the brick that came through my window last time), and crawled into bed a bit
after seven.

Chapter 26

Thursday morning brought a slight improvement in my flexibility after more pain meds
and twenty minutes of stretching on my bedroom floor. A hot shower helped, as did
a breakfast of scrambled egg whites, low-fat mozzarella, and avocado. Feeling almost
human again, I pulled on lavender capri leggings and a flowered tank top, grabbed
my dance heels, and was about to trot upstairs to the studio, when my doorbell rang.
Who could it be at this hour?

Peering through one of the narrow panes on either side of the door, I saw Danielle.
She was facing away from me, but she turned when I opened the door. Her face was tear-streaked
and she wore no makeup, even though she was dressed for the office in a blah greige
suit and boring pumps. She’d put her hair up in a loose bun, but strands were falling
out of it to dangle beside her face and down her back.

“Danielle!” I pulled her into a big hug. She was shaking. “What’s wrong?”

She sobbed against my shoulder and mumbled something.

“What? I can’t hear you, sweetie.” A terrible thought knifed through me. “Mom? Did
she fall?” Mom had had a couple of serious riding accidents in the past and I worried
about her more as she got older.

Danielle drew back far enough to say, “Not Mom. Coop.” She snuffled into a tissue
as I pulled her inside and closed the door.

“What’s happened to Coop?”

“He broke up with me.” She started bawling again. I tried to urge her toward the kitchen,
but she sank onto the bottom-most stair and crumpled in on herself.

“Oh, Dani, I’m so sorry.” I scrunched in beside her and wrapped my arms around her,
rocking gently. I wanted to punch Coop’s nose in the worst way. She cried for at least
ten minutes, leaning heavily into me, and I stroked her without saying anything. Finally,
her tears dwindled.

Sniffing, she said in a raw voice, “He said Tricia understands him better, that they’re
completely
simpatico
, whatever that means. How can he just dump me, like our five years together don’t
count for anything?”

“Wait here.” I hurried to the kitchen and returned with tissues and the pint of Triple
Caramel Chunk ice cream I’d bought in a moment of dieting weakness but eaten only
two spoonfuls of. I handed her the cold container and a spoon. “Eat.”

“It’s breakfast time.”

“I know. That’s why I brought ice cream instead of booze. Both have medicinal qualities.”

She blew her nose, and then stabbed the spoon into the ice cream. After she’d managed
a couple of bites, she said, “We had history. What do he and Tricia have except chess?”

I couldn’t answer that. “He’ll be sorry he left you for Heifer Girl. You’re beautiful
and kind and smart and funny and she . . . plays chess.”

Dani managed a watery chuckle. The ice cream was half gone. “I have to go to work,
but I needed to tell you. I shouldn’t be so surprised since we’d agreed to see other
people, but I didn’t see it coming. I think it’s the shock that’s getting to me as
much as the actual breakup.”

I didn’t believe her, but I pretended like I did. “Of course. Look, why don’t you
call in sick today? Take a mental health day? We’ll go do something.” Nigel would
blow a gasket if I skipped out on today’s rehearsals, but too bad.

“Can’t. We’re organizing for a possible strike and I’ve got to be there.” She pushed
to her feet, leaving the ice cream container on the step.

“At least fix your hair.”

I returned the ice cream to the freezer while she ducked into the powder room. She
emerged with her hair neatly pinned up and her face free of tear stains, although
her eyes were puffy and her nose red. She tried a brave smile. “I love Coop, you know—”

I nodded.

“—but I’m not sure I appreciated him enough. I should have gone to some of his chess
tournaments with him, even though they bored me to tears, just because I loved him.
I should have worn the red lace bra and panties he got me last Valentine’s Day more
often. They made me look like a hooker, but Coop said I was the most beautiful woman
he’d ever seen. I never said anything like that to him.”

I could tell she was headed for tears again, so I joked, “Maybe you would’ve if he’d
worn lacy lingerie.”

It worked. She gave a burp of laugher and said, “You know what I mean. I was so quick
to criticize Coop, to moan about him forgetting to take the trash out on trash day,
or getting the wrong size sweater for my birthday present, or forgetting the anniversary
of the day we met.”

“He’s the one who cheated on you,” I said, hating to see her blame herself. “I wish
you’d never met the bastard.”

Dani shook her head. “Oh, no. Even though this hurts more than . . . more than having
my hair yanked out by handfuls, I couldn’t ever wish that. I wouldn’t trade my time
with Coop for anything, not a winning Lotto ticket, or a wish-granting genie, or even
for Mom and Dad to still be together.” Her melancholy smile told me she was reliving
happy Coop memories. “I wouldn’t be the me I am now if I hadn’t been with Coop.” Giving
me a long, convulsive hug, she left.

“I’ll text you later,” I called after her. “We can do dinner, if you feel up to it.
My treat. I’ll bring more ice cream. And booze. We can pour Bailey’s on the ice cream.”

I sighed as I closed the door, knowing no amount of ice cream or alcohol was going
to make Danielle feel better for more than a few seconds. I thought about what she’d
said, and Tav’s face materialized in my head. I’d been taking Tav’s presence in my
life for granted, I realized, and I was in danger of pushing him out of my life because
I was afraid I’d get hurt again, like Dani was hurting, like I’d hurt after Rafe cheated
on me . . . and when he’d died. But Tav wasn’t Coop or Rafe. He’d shown up after Rafe’s
death and helped me get through that time. He’d stuck by me even when the police suspected
me of murder, and helped me get the studio onto solid financial ground. Now, he was
leaving. I suddenly knew with total certainty that I couldn’t let that happen.

Rushing impulsively out the back door, I climbed into the rental car and headed for
Rafe’s—now Tav’s—condo. It was still early. I hoped he’d be there. I considered calling
him, but didn’t know what I’d say. I was hoping the right words would come if I was
face-to-face with him. I slid the car into a spot at the curb, uncaring that the rear
hung out into traffic. Dodging cars, I scurried across the street and into the building,
taking the stairs when the sluggish elevator didn’t appear immediately. I didn’t want
to chicken out.

I was panting slightly when I emerged on the fourth floor. I stopped in front of his
door. Maybe this wasn’t such a—

The door opened.

“Stacy!”

Tav stood there, dressed for work in a light gray suit, darker gray shirt, and yellow
and turquoise tie that made his tanned skin appear darker. His black hair was brushed
back from his forehead and still damp. He smelled like soap and the light cedar-scented
cologne he used. Before he could say anything, I rushed into speech.

“I’m sorry. About the investigation, about Zane, about all of it. I don’t want you
to leave. I want you to stay. It scares me that I want you to stay so much, but I
do. I didn’t want to not tell you, in case, well, in case it makes a difference. I’m
not sure what happened with Zane, or why, but it’s you I l—like. I don’t know what
will happen with the show now that I’ve pissed Nigel off, or whether the studio will
be able to turn a profit, or—”

He kissed me. His hands cupped my face and his mouth found mine. My lips opened under
the pressure of his and the kiss deepened until I felt dizzy. My hands went to his
shoulders so I wouldn’t fall and his arms slid around me, pulling me tightly against
his hard body. I seemed to hear the sensuous rhythms of the rumba in my head as I
shaped myself to Tav. He was so like Rafe . . . but so not like him, too. The similarities
had confused me at first, but not—

A door down the hall opened and Tav and I sprang apart. A businessman emerged, dressed
like Tav, but older. He gave us a knowing look as he picked up his newspaper, tucked
it under his arm, and headed for the elevator. “Take it inside, lucky man,” he murmured
as he passed us.

I blushed furiously, and Tav tugged at my hand. “Perhaps we should talk inside.”

I let him pull me inside, feeling hideously self-conscious. What had I done now? I
was used to my impulsiveness getting me into hot water, but this—! “I shouldn’t have
come,” I said.

“Let me get you some coffee,” Tav said, not trying to resume our previous activity.
I was partly relieved and partly miffed. He clinked around in the kitchen and I perched
on the edge of the sofa, noticing that Tav had replaced Rafe’s navy blue one with
a warmer-seeming couch upholstered in an umber chenille piled with pillows in terracotta,
cream, and teal. I ran my hand over the soft nap. “Nice,” I said, as he handed me
the coffee. I took a swallow, mostly to have something to do, and burned my mouth.
“Ooch!”

Tav sat in the recliner, not beside me on the sofa, and I cupped my hands around the
mug, suddenly needing its warmth.

“Why, Stacy? Why are you here?” He’d withdrawn.

Emptiness swelled inside me, crushing my organs and making it hard to breathe. Was
I too late? But the way he’d kissed me . . . “I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

“For being a big chicken, for being so worried about how a relationship between us
might end that I wasn’t brave enough to give it a go. Ironic, huh, since I’m usually
the impulsive one.”

“One of your many adorable, and sometimes exasperating, traits.”

His words, and the light in his eyes, encouraged me. Shyly at first, and then with
more confidence, I told him about Danielle and Coop breaking up, and about my realization
that I didn’t want him to go. “I don’t know where I want us to go, if there is an
‘us,’ but—”

“Oh, there is an us,” Tav said. “At least, there is if I have anything to say about
it.”

Relief and happiness coursed through me.

“Savage?”

“Our relationship, if you can even call it that, was a matter of proximity. We were
competing together—still are—and investigating Tessa’s murder, and all that tension
turned into . . . something. But not much,” I hastened to add. “He’s gone out with
my sister more than with me. He was easy,” I said, “because he’s leaving, and I didn’t
have to think about being with him longer than a few weeks. It’s not easy with you
because you’re Rafe’s brother, and we’re business partners, and you’re not going anywhere,
I hope.” His smile sent heat curling through my body. “I didn’t think I could stand
it if you stayed mad at me, if you sold your share of the studio or gave it to me,
and returned to Argentina.”

“I thought you wanted to own the studio outright.” He reached for my hand and held
it in a firm clasp.

“I do, but—” I stared at him with exasperation. “Why do men have to make things so
hard?”

“Men?” He arched his brows. “Women are the ones—”

“Men.” I continued on before he could argue further. I didn’t want to upset him, now
that we seemed to be on the same page, finally—and a very nice page it was—but I needed
to say something. “About the investigation . . .”

Tav interrupted me. “I was wrong to give you an ultimatum. You are an adult and I
was treating you like a little girl. If finding out who killed Tessa is important
to you, then you need to do it.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “However, I would prefer you not get killed.”

“I’m in favor of that.”

His thumb traced lazy circles on the back of my hand and I shivered. “Why not tell
people you have given up, that the police have warned you off the case—whatever it
takes to make them believe you are backing off? Also, you need someone to stay in
the house with you. It is not good for you to be there alone, vulnerable.”

I expected him to offer to stay at the house and I was wondering how I could turn
him down without hurting his feelings—I wasn’t ready to take our relationship to
that
level, yet, and I knew we’d end up in bed if he stayed overnight—when he said, “Perhaps
your sister could come stay?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said slowly. Danielle might welcome a change of scenery
for a few days. “I’ll ask her.”

Tav nodded. “And do not be alone with anyone associated with the show. Anyone.”

I twisted my face doubtfully. “That could be a little tougher. Zane and I have to
practice.”

“Make sure Maurice or Vitaly is always on hand, then,” Tav said. “They adore you—they
will do what is necessary to help keep you safe.” He glanced at his watch and sprang
up. “I am late for a meeting with the man who will, I hope, cut us some slack on the
tax bill. I am sorry, but I must go, Stacy.”

“It’s okay,” I said, walking with him to the door.

Before he opened it, he kissed me again and caressed my face. “So beautiful.”

We parted on the sidewalk, with him calling after me, “Stay safe!”

I planned to do my best.

* * *

Zane noticed the change in me almost immediately.

I was half an hour late for our rehearsal and Zane, Nigel, and Larry were all on their
cell phones when I came in. I could hear Vitaly and Calista practicing in the small
studio, and Maurice emerged from the office to smile at me. No fear of being alone
with the killer today.

“Finally!” Nigel said, snapping his phone closed.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” I said, slipping on my dance shoes. “Something came up.”

Zane led me a little aside as we entered the ballroom. Hair flopped over his forehead
in that boyish way that was so ridiculously endearing it had half the teenage girl
population of the country pinning his poster to their walls fifteen years earlier.
“Is everything okay?”

I met his eyes briefly. “Fine. I had something I had to take care of.” I wasn’t sure
I owed him any explanation after a couple of not-quite-dates and a kiss or two, and
I certainly didn’t want to get into it now, with the camera peering over our shoulders.
“Are you warmed up?” I pulled him to the center of the dance floor and began leading
him through the moves we’d practiced yesterday.