Tiger's Eye (20 page)

I frowned.

She poked me and said, “Come on, it’s funny. Besides”—she handed me a pair of goggles and earmuffs, then put some on herself—“it helps me deal with my anger toward her, and this way, I don’t physically act on it.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Okay, I don’t act on it as often.” She loaded a magazine into a semiautomatic and shot Monique’s cowboy hat off.

Fair enough. I guess if a woman had lied to the town about my husband having an affair, which prompted me to divorce him, I’d want to shoot her too.

“I’ll turn it around to Joe Schmo and then you try.”

She holstered the gun and I stared at it as she jogged toward the cutout.

I wasn’t a fan of guns, which made me nervous to hold one. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe Leo was right.

But then I decided that if I was going to be shot at, I may as well learn to shoot back.

Cinnamon turned the plywood around to reveal the silhouette of a man with white rings covering his body. When she was finished, she returned to my side.

“You ready?”

“Do you have anything smaller?” I asked.

“Sure.” She fumbled around in her bag. “This is a .38 special revolver. It’s not loaded. Go ahead and feel it out.”

It was lighter than I thought it would be. The barrel was short, the grip was made of black rubber, and it felt comfortable in my small hands.

“Okay, lesson one.” Cinnamon turned toward me. “Safety first. Assume that all guns are always loaded.”

I nodded.

“Never point”—Cin lifted her weapon and aimed it at the target—“at anything you are not willing to destroy. Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you have your sites on your target.” She cupped the gun with both hands. “And finally, understand what will happen when you pull it.” She set her feet shoulder width apart, her right leg back slightly, bent her knees a bit, and fired into Joe Schmo’s crotch.

“Nice aim.”

“Thanks.”

A few doors down, someone lit a grill for a cook-out.

Cinnamon taught me a few more lessons along with different stances for different situations plus the proper way to holster, draw, and hold the weapon. She explained the paperwork I needed to register with the state and that it might take awhile to get approved. We practiced shooting for about an hour. After that, I prodded her for information on the Hell Hounds.

“I don’t know a lot about them. They’ve played for me a few times over the years.”

“Ever heard of any of them getting into trouble? Anyone talk about them around town?”

Cin thought for a moment as she inspected each weapon to make sure it was unloaded. “You know, since you mention it, Huck always called them ‘those damn hippies.’ ” She shrugged. “I just figured it was because they had long hair and smoked weed or something.”

Mr. Huckleberry owned the building that housed my cousin’s bar.

I helped Cin pack up and she explained the dynamics of the band. Brian was the lead singer. The guy who
looked perpetually stoned was a friend from high school, and the Perrier drinker with the short hair was Brian’s neighbor. The woman with the skull tattoo was Becky, a new addition. Apparently there were perks to dating a musician.

“You know how it goes. They play together today, but different members have come and gone over the years. It’s really Brian’s band.” She zipped up her duffel bag and said, “Why are you asking me all this anyway?”

I glanced at Thor, who was trying to catch a bee. “I just got a weird vibe from him.”

“Really? Brian? I always thought he was sweet.”

I shifted my gaze from Thor to my cousin. The sun was at her back and the effect of the light through the trees gave the image of a golden hue all around her body.

“But I could be wrong,” Cin said.

She hoisted the bag across her back and walked toward the car. I called for Thor and we followed her.

I watched her walk and noticed that the luminosity never left her. It moved with her body, hovered all around her.

That’s when I knew.

Chapter 26

“Oh my God, you’re pregnant!” I said.

She dropped the bag and rushed forward. Clamped a hand over my mouth. “Be quiet! I’m not pregnant.” She shook her head.

I bobbed mine up and down and said, “Yes you are.” Except her hand was so tight over my pie hole it sounded more like,
Yeth u arf.

Cinnamon sighed and dropped her hand. “Okay, maybe. I’m a little late, but I haven’t taken a test yet.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, I never get any alone time except at the bar and I don’t want Tony to know just yet.”

“Again, why not? He’d be thrilled.”

Tony was the kind of man who would rather spend time with his wife than take a night out with the boys. He adored my cousin and bragged about her constantly. Who could blame him? Cin was smart, sexy, a hard worker, and a ton of fun.

“Because I need a little time to think of a good reason why I should keep the bar.” Cin started pacing. “I mean, geez, what am I going to do? Bake cookies like my mother?”

Mama Angelica’s bakery was legendary in these parts.

“You think he’d ask you to do that?”

“I don’t know.” She started talking with her hands—an indicator that she was anxious about this. “He’s a worrier. I can’t think of too many husbands who would be thrilled with the idea of his wife slinging drinks at obnoxious drunks with a sixth-month belly bump.”

I caught her hand and said, “First off, Tony isn’t like most husbands. Second, there’s no sense in worrying just yet. Why don’t I come by the bar tonight and take the test with you?”

She looked somewhat relieved and agreed to the arrangement as long as I picked up the tests the next town over.

We packed up the car and I dropped her off.

She leaned into the window and said, “Be there before eight. Band starts at nine.” She started away, but I saw she had left the .38 on the floor of the car tucked inside an ankle holster.

“Cin. You forgot one.”

She turned and said, “If there are two things I know about you, Cuz, it’s that you wouldn’t use that thing unless you absolutely had to. The other is that you may absolutely have to.”

I watched her walk into the house, hoping she was wrong.

Leo called on my way to the cottage.

“We did a sweep of your dad’s car and it’s clean. No cut wires, nothing out of the ordinary with the engine or brakes. We also didn’t find any shell casings.”

“So the shooter got there first.”

“No bullet holes either. There could be another explanation for what happened.”

“Such as?”

“We found BBs.”

“Come again?”

“BBs. We think maybe it was kids screwing around. They’ve been known to aim at abandoned cars before.”

“Geez, it’s not enough that they torture the Shelby goats, now they’re taking shots at random people?”

Because they sure sounded like real bullets.

“I’m not saying I won’t keep looking into it, but that’s the view from out here. We did find the truck. Dusted it for prints, but I suspect they’ll belong to a lot of different people.”

I disconnected with him and immediately my phone rang again. It was Derek. “Are you forgetting something?”

Crap. I was his ride. “Be right there.”

Derek hobbled over to the car and jumped in the passenger seat. He was sweating a lot for someone who just exited an air-conditioned building. He searched through his bag, pulled out a pen, and stuck it down the boot. “Man, this thing itches!”

A dog barked in the distance and Thor answered.

I felt sorry for Derek. The summer I broke my leg playing kick-ball I had to wear that stinky cast for six weeks. It was hot, itchy, and not waterproof.

“Can’t you take it off?”

“Yeah, I did last night.”

He twisted the air vent in the car to aim it at his face. Then he reached for a magazine as I pulled the car out of the parking lot.

“Do you need a ride tomorrow?” I asked when we got to his apartment.

“Nah, I think I can manage. I wasn’t sure if I was going to pop a pain pill, but it doesn’t feel too bad anymore.”

He folded up the magazine and I saw it was a catalog for the spy store. I was about to tease him about it when I spotted something on the back cover.

“Derek, can I see that for a minute?”

“Sure.” Thor whinnied in the backseat. “Hang on, buddy, almost home.”

A closer look confirmed my initial assessment. But I wasn’t positive until I held the watch from the lake up to the ad. Some of the features looked an awful lot like the wristwatch on the back of the spy catalog. The caption read,
Voice-activated digital audio recorder. Capture meeting minutes, business agreements, or interviews discreetly and effectively.

Could this be the tapes?

“Derek, where is the spy store?”

“It’s in Dubuque. On Thirteenth Street.”

Twenty minutes away.

“Get back in the car.”

“What, nooooo. Come on, I’m hungryyyyy,” he whined, and Thor thought that was his cue to chime in.

The dog lifted his head and howled.

“Stop that! Both of you. I’ll stop at Aztec Tacos, okay?”

That seemed to shut them both up.

We found a spot right out front of the spy store. Thor devoured a king burrito while I filled Derek in on the story. He admired the watch as I spoke.

“So hopefully there’s a chance that the recordings are still on here. Maybe that’s what the caller meant. Not actual cassette or video tapes but taped recordings.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at me. “And you think the same stiff they pulled from the lake is the one who called you.”

“I’m almost positive.”

“Well,” Derek said and sipped his soda, “if anyone can retrieve whatever data is on here, it’s Sydney.”

As he finished off his taco, I thought of a way to bring up the message I was supposed to relay to him from the great-aunt I met at the cemetery. What did she say the name of her sister was? Maybel. That was it.

The way I saw it, this might be my first break and I wasn’t about to piss off the spirits.

“Hey, by the way, someone named Maybel called for you.”

“Maybel?” He chewed slowly, reached for more hot sauce, and said, “I don’t know a Maybel.”

Could I have gotten it wrong or did I now have to worry about ghosts lying to me?

“She said she was your grandmother.”

Derek widened his eyes briefly and then said, “My grandmother’s name is Maybelline. And she’s been in a convent for five years. Doesn’t phone home too much.”

He was staring me down.

I bluffed as best I could. “Well, she wants you to go back to law school.”

“You sure it wasn’t my mother who called?”

“Could have been.”

He crumpled up his taco wrappers and tossed them into the bag. “That woman never gives up, I swear. You know why I came all the way out here after college instead of staying back east or going south where my koo-koo auntie is?”

“It was the only place hiring?”

“Well, there was that, but mostly to get away from the elite attitude that success is defined by a million-dollar house and a Mercedes.” He shrugged. “I like my job. I like it here. It’s quiet and friendly, and most days no one’s trying to shoot me.”

“Well, don’t tell her I told you. She asked me to be subtle.”

Derek snorted. “You, subtle? Ha!” He tossed out the trash and called to Thor. “Sydney loves dogs. He thinks they’re the perfect place to plant a spy camera or a bug.” He held the door open and we all walked in.

Sydney looked like a spy camera. Or a bug. He had huge eyes magnified by Coke-bottle glasses that his tiny nose struggled to support. There was one streak of dark hair, combed in all different directions as if he couldn’t settle on just one, and his vest had more pockets than a big-game hunter’s.

“Well, hello there.” He whipped off his glasses and made googly eyes at me.

Apparently Sydney also fancied himself a ladies’ man. Although unwanted advances didn’t really bother me much.

“Whoa, easy, fella. Good dog, good boy.” Sydney jumped back, trembling near a shelf of teddy bear cameras. “I was just being friendly.”

Thor was standing at full height, paws on Sydney’s counter. He growled softly once and then flared his teeth simply for showmanship.

“Thor, that’s enough,” I said.

“Fine-looking dog you have there, miss.”

I smiled as Derek took control of the conversation.

“Hey, Syd, we have an older model audio recorder here. Thing was submerged in water. You think you could work your magic?”

That reminded me, I had to get back for my training. I checked the time. Around this time, Birdie and the aunts were likely serving refreshments, which meant I had about an hour.

Sydney attached some sort of scope on the end of his glasses so now he looked like a bug from outer space.

He squinted at the watch and said, “Maybe. Usually if there’s too much water damage this little dot right here turns red.” He showed us a black dot. Then he took off the extra eyewear. “Got a few cases ahead of yours, but I should be able to get back to you next week.”

“Next week? Can’t you fit it in a bit sooner? I’ll pay extra,” I pleaded.