The rest of the afternoon, I came up with different ways of springing the house on Malone. Every time I hit on something clever, I threw it out two seconds later as lame or immature. I had never lived with someone before. There was an edge of permanence to this that both excited and scared me. Would Malone want to move in? Would a trial basis be the best thing? Would he give up his own apartment, or keep it as a safe haven if I got too possessive?
The anticipation was driving me crazy. But then I realized something. I might not even get the house. I could be doing all this worrying for nothing. With an effort, I put it out of my mind and watched an old Bond movie. It was one of the originals, with Sean Connery as Bond, James Bond. He was so smooth, so suave. I relaxed and let him coax me into the movie.
It was after midnight when Malone crawled in beside me. Despite my attempts at staying awake, I'd succumbed to sleep an hour before. I made one decision during the movie. I was going to keep my mouth shut. At least until I knew the place was going to be mine.
Malone curled against my back and worked an arm around my waist.
"Watch it, buster. My lover's a C.W.A.," I mumbled.
He nuzzled my neck. I could feel the faint scratch of stubble against my skin. "C.W.A. What's that mean?"
"Cop With Attitude."
"My kind of cop." His hand began tracing circles across my stomach.
I rolled over and snuggled close. The shapes were now being drawn on my tailbone and along my spine. "I was sleeping soundly until you came in, Merlin."
"Guess you're wide awake now, huh?"
"Does that mean you're not going to let me go back to sleep?" I smothered a yawn in his chest.
"Later. You can sleep until noon." Malone twisted onto his back and pulled me on top of him.
“Do you have any idea how romantic it is for a girl to be awakened from a slumber this way?”
“I’m a cop. I just respond to the clues and follow my instincts.”
"Why, Merlin, whatever do you have in mind?"
He drew my face down to his. "It ain't step aerobics, but it should get your heart thumping."
I pressed his hand against my chest. "It already is."
Keeping quiet about the house was easier than I thought. It was Malone's turn in the rotation for a long weekend off. He had Saturday through Tuesday free. The idea of returning to Erhardt's chalet was appealing, but my ankle throbbed at the mere thought of outdoor activities. It was too close to Christmas to think about spending any more time wrapped in plaster. Outside the wind was screeching as the mercury dropped into the single digits.
Malone had other ideas. He left my place before noon and was secretive as hell. I couldn’t go with him. All he said was to stay close to the phone and relax. That’s easier said than done.
I was at the computer keyboard when he called an hour later.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Hey, Merlin. What’s going on?”
“All in good time, Jay. What are you working on?” He could hear the keys clicking in the background.
“Same old stuff, like trying to figure out a new way of killing somebody. Why?”
“Wrap it up and store it until Tuesday. We’re leaving.”
“I can’t go out and play in the snow, Merlin. It makes my nose run.”
“No arguments. Finish up. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“You’re being awfully demanding this morning, Merlin.”
“I’m a cop with an attitude, remember?”
“Touché.”
I saved the file and shut down the system. Whatever he was up to must have something to do with his time off. I paced for a few minutes then sprawled on the Jewish Aunt. Maybe Ace Richmond, Private Eye could figure this one out.
It was half an hour before Malone returned. He insisted I stay in the living room while he packed a bag of my clothes. I was only allowed to collect a few toiletries and stuff them in a duffel bag.
“Grab your coat.”
“Where are we going, Merlin?”
He hugged me. “Stop asking questions and come along.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
Malone burst out laughing. “You’re a lousy liar, Jay. Do you trust me?”
I realized I did trust him more than anyone else I knew, except for Bert and Doc Schulte and Shannon. But then like the Grim Reaper in some old movie, something else went flittering across the back of my mind. Images of a dark Malone flooded my brain. Here he was hovering above the tub in Erhardt’s hotel. There was another one of him knocking me into the gravel pit. Which ones were real? I forced them aside. “Mostly.”
“Someday I’ll get you beyond ‘mostly’, but that’s good enough for now.”
He got me into the Cherokee and we headed down the road. We ended up at the airport and carried our bags inside. By the time we were heading for the boarding gate, it was evident where we were going. Miami. Who needs Ace Richmond? Malone wouldn’t answer any questions until we were airborne.
“It’s a package deal. One of the guys was going to take his wife for a long weekend. But she can’t get the time off work and they couldn’t get a refund. So I bought his tickets.”
“What did you pack, Merlin?”
He shrugged. “I packed for you one cotton dress, blue and white, two pairs of shorts, two tee shirts, a red bikini and a tank suit and one pair of sandals. You’re wearing jeans. That should do it. Oh, and a summer nightgown. Anything else you need, I’ll buy it when we land in Miami. We’ll rent a car and drive down to the keys.”
I sighed. “That’s not a bikini, you moron. It’s underwear. You’re pretty sure of yourself, copper.”
“You know us cavemen. We take what we want. Three days in the sun, Jamie. Lean back and enjoy it.”
“I certainly will.
* * * *
We came home late Tuesday, slightly pink and very relaxed. Nothing like seventy- two hours of the four S's to recharge my batteries. That’s sun, sand, sex and seafood to you, although not necessarily in that order. We discovered some new places to make love, including a secluded beach and a hammock outside the bungalow we rented for a night. Then there was the outdoor shower stall and the tidal pool. We were very relaxed when we returned to the frozen north.
Wednesday morning I attacked the computer with new energy, my secret about the house intact. Malone went to the gym and then to work.
Maybelle Ross called with the news. My application to rent had been approved. I was excited and frustrated in the same breath. Where the hell was I going to find a moving company on a week's notice? I still had to notify my landlord that I was moving out, and would undoubtedly lose two month’s rent on my lease. So what! I spent the rest of the day calling movers all around town. No chance. Everyone was booked until after the holidays.
I really wanted to spend Christmas in my new place. Part of the magic would be to spring it on Malone as a holiday surprise. Disappointment was closing in. I knew it was a last minute decision, but I had to go through with it. Inspiration saved me.
I didn't have to move completely, just enough stuff to get through a few nights. Kitchen gear for cooking, clothes to wear, gifts for the tree. A tree! Not some polyester conglomeration of wires and bristles. I wanted an honest to God Scotch pine with needles and a thirst, tinsel and popcorn and ornaments and lights. It was time to get moving.
I am notoriously bad at keeping secrets, but I was determined to hide this one from Malone. It turned out there was plenty for me to do to keep busy. Malone was pulling extra duty with the holidays so close. Other than time spent in bed, we hardly saw each other. Most nights were a marathon of sex. Occasionally, we did sleep.
My permit to purchase a gun came through without a hitch. I called Tony, brought the necessary paperwork to him, and went to pick up my new Beretta. Once again Tony convinced me to return to the range and practice. He said the more you use a gun, the more comfortable you become with it. I went through fifty shells while getting pointers from him. After the first three clips had been fired, he noticed I was dawdling
"What's going on, Jamie?" He touched my elbow while I was halfway through the fourth clip. There was no one else on the range.
"I need a favor." Up until that moment, I didn’t know if I’d have the nerve to say it out loud.
"Like what?" Tony folded his arms and leaned back against the divider, his protective earphones draped around his neck.
"The woman I saw here that first time. Melissa Hatcher."
"What about her?" Tony wasn't going to make this easy.
"I want to try something, for a plot in a book I'm working on," I lied. "Can you get me a bullet fired from her gun? The .38?"
"What in the world for?" Tony relaxed a little.
"I've got this idea about framing somebody for a murder, but the key to the story is to gain access to their weapon. The bullet has to be identifiable. A slug from the back wall wouldn't work. It would be in no shape to match with the slug from the murder. I need a good clean specimen. How do I do it?"
Tony frowned thoughtfully then tugged at his earring. "Could be done, but it's not going to be easy. I could offer to clean the piece for her after she's been here. But it's doubtful she would go for it. Her boyfriend is pretty handy with his weapons."
"Is there some other way?" I tried hard not to beg. I didn't want to arouse his suspicions. This was supposed to be fiction.
"I could offer to mount a new scope on the gun for her. Her boyfriend has been trying to talk her into shooting in a tournament next month. Maybe I could get the gun from her then, and get a bullet."
"Great. But how can you fire a shot and still recover a usable slug? Remember, I need it good enough for the police to match it with the evidence from the murder."
"No problem," Tony said. "I'll use a test fire barrel.”
"What’s that?"
Tony smiled. "A test fire barrel. You shoot the gun into a metal drum filled with cotton padding. The density of the cotton absorbs the slug before it can travel all the way through to the other end of the drum. Then you have a clean slug to compare it with."
I was still skeptical. "How will you get a sample off of Melissa's gun?"
"I'll offer to mount the scope for her to try. While I'm working on it, I'll squeeze off a test round. With luck, I can persuade her to leave it overnight, so I can do the work and sight it in for her. Then she can practice with it before the tournament. She'll probably accept it as a free trial."
I fought the impulse to do a victory dance. "Great. Will you call me when you've got the sample bullet?" It was an effort to keep my voice calm.
Tony shrugged. "Sure. But why do you need one from her gun? Why not use one from another weapon?"
"She gave me the idea when I saw her buying the bullets." I gave him my best weak female look. Tony wasn't buying it. "I'm superstitious. If I can get an actual bullet from her gun, then the story will work out. If not, then there's no point in pursuing it."
"Guess it won't do any harm. I'll call you when I get the slug. She'll probably be in sometime this week. The outdoor range closed for the winter. We get a lot of their regulars practicing here until it warms up outside."
"Thanks, Tony."
"It'll cost you, Jamie."
I hadn't expected to get away with it for free. "Name it."
"If it does become a story, can you give me an autographed copy?"
"Hell, Tony, if it works out, I'll mention you as a resource. Your name will be on every book. And I'll pay for you to do the work on Melissa's gun."
His face split with a wide smile. "Great."
I went back to the apartment. After entering my conversation with Tony into the file on the computer and my ideas about where it might lead, I hesitated. Without meaning to, my story about the patrol cop was taking on a whole new direction. I pushed it away and concentrated on some revisions for a short story I'd been toying with. Malone was supposed to come by tonight after work. The afternoon passed quickly as I made my final adjustments to the story. I was debating about ordering a pizza or running out for a burger when my phone rang.
"It's Tony." He sounded nervous.
"You didn't change your mind about helping me, did you?"
"No way. I've got the slug."
I jerked back in surprise. "So soon?"
"Melissa and her boyfriend came in about an hour after you left. It took some convincing, but they finally agreed to let me keep the revolver to put the scope on. They're coming back in the morning to pick it up."
I checked the clock above my desk. Six forty-five. "Are you closed for the evening?"
"We shut down at six. I'm on my way home. I didn't want to call you from the store. One of the other guys might have overheard me."
"Can I meet you somewhere?"
Tony paused. In the background I could hear traffic going by. "Ever been to the Dizzy Duck?" he asked at last.
"The rock and roll bar on Haggerty?"
"Yeah, I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
Could it really be that easy?
* * * *
It took me fifteen minutes to find the place. I don’t frequent many bars and I’d confused it with another one nearby. As I approached, I saw Tony leaning against a car in the parking area, looking around anxiously. The only spot I could find was at the far end of the lot. I parked and began walking toward him. There was a string of holiday lights above the cars, making them all shine. Plows had built up large mounds of snow around the lot, and the cold temperatures had frozen them all into icy bunkers. Tony saw me approach and pushed off his car. He walked to meet me, his arms swinging wide as he moved.
An old Dodge pulled into the lot. Tony glanced over as it came alongside him. We were still about forty feet apart. The car was filled with four rowdy guys, bellowing out the lyrics to "Bohemian Rhapsody". As they passed between us, there were several catcalls and whistles directed at me. I waved as they crawled by and watched them look for a parking spot. When I turned back toward Tony, he was gone.
On the ground where he'd been standing was a crumpled lump, wrapped in a down jacket.
"Tony!"
I don't remember running or screaming, but apparently I did both. Kneeling beside him, I gently rolled him onto his back. Tony's eyes were staring vacantly at the string of lights. His neck had no pulse. If he was breathing, I couldn’t tell. A first aid class from high school ran through my head as I began to check his body. While trying to open his jacket, I realized what had happened.
Protruding through his coat was a metal arrow about as big around as my thumb. Six inches extended from his chest. I screamed again and covered my face.
"Jesus Christ!" One of the guys from the Dodge appeared at my side and pulled me back a little. "Call the cops!" he yelled to his friends. "This guy's been shot."
Tears rolled down my face as I looked at Tony. This was my fault! Nobody else was supposed to get hurt. Yet here I was, kneeling beside someone I’d coerced into helping me. And now that someone was dead. Reaching out to take his hand, I felt a small cold lump. I rolled the slug into my palm and got to my feet. After making certain no one was paying any attention, I slipped it into my pocket and walked away.
Shooting Tony must have been easy. He was standing alone in the parking lot, near the one large streetlight. The rows of parked cars and the bunkers of snow would have provided excellent cover for someone to hide behind. The noise from the Dodge had been sufficient to mask a gunshot, let alone somebody using a bow and arrow. Other than the guys in the passing car, Tony had been the only one in the parking lot. Whoever killed him had slipped away amid the noise and confusion that followed. I felt ill.
I managed to walk back to my car. I didn't have the strength to drive, so I leaned against the hood and hugged my arms, staring at the motionless bundle on the ground. The local police arrived. They questioned everyone in the bar, trying to find someone who had seen anything. Eventually they made their way over to me. It gave me more than enough time to work on my story. Bert always said I think fast on my feet.
I lied. Told them I didn't have any idea why someone would kill Tony. Said I'd met him during the day at the gun shop where he worked, and he'd invited me to have a drink at the bar. That was all I could say. I kept my left hand jammed in the pocket of my jeans, maintaining contact with that nasty little slug. Was this what Tony had died for? Was it worth it? When the cops were done, I drove home. I was numb. Whether from the cold or the shock, I didn’t know. I do know it was difficult to drive with the tears streaming down my face.