Part 29 (1/2)
”Or hers?” Ranson said. She had caught it. She took off her gla.s.ses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn't look at me.
”Did he say anything else?” Danny asked. She was sitting opposite me and next to Ranson, so she didn't see what had pa.s.sed.
”No, he died,” I answered tersely.
”Why didn't you tell me last night?” Ranson questioned, as she put her gla.s.ses back on, barricading her eyes.
”There were too many people around. Anyone could have overheard.” That may have been true, but it wasn't why I hadn't told her and she knew it.
”We found the motorcycle half a mile down the road,” Danny explained. ”It had been stolen the night before. No sign of the murder weapon yet.” Then she glanced at her watch. ”My, time flies when you're working on your day off. I've got to get going.”
She hugged each of us again on her way out. Ranson watched her drive away, but didn't say anything. Danny had been gone for a long * 192 *
time, before she turned to me. She looked at me, then over my head behind me. She gave a bare nod.
I jumped up and looked over my shoulder. There was no one there.
”s.h.i.+t, that wasn't funny,” I exclaimed.
”I had to know,” she said. ”Sorry if I frightened you.” She turned away and went back into her kitchen. I heard her starting to wash the breakfast dishes. I followed her.
”Joanne, I'm sorry. If I really thought it was you, I wouldn't have told you today, and I certainly wouldn't be here alone with you,” I apologized.
”It's okay, Micky. Don't worry about it.” Then she was silent, her back to me as she continued with the dishes.
I stood watching that back, trying to think of something to say, something that would make my panic and mistrust go away.
Ranson glanced over her shoulder as if sensing me there. She stopped was.h.i.+ng dishes, got a towel and dried her hands.
”Who watches the watchers?” she asked. ”There's a crooked cop somewhere. No wonder you don't trust any of us. I don't.” She walked past me, out to the living room and stared out the window at the gray and cold afternoon.
”I'm sorry, Joanne,” I said, following her. ”I couldn't get the image of Frankie out of my head. I had just washed off his blood. And...and I can be paranoid even on a good day,” I finished lamely.
She turned to me. ”It is okay, Micky. It really is. Someone I know probably arranged that killing. Perhaps someone I trust with my life. I was upset at first, when I realized you suspected me, but that was my petty ego at work. You and I don't have time for petty egos. There's a murderer to catch. Okay? Now, come help me with the dishes.”
”You sure?” I asked, still uncertain.
To a.s.sure me, she came to me and put her hands on my shoulders.
Then, unexpectedly, she kissed me gently on the cheek.
I kissed her on the mouth. Then I put my arms around her and held her. She returned the embrace and the kiss for a moment, then she broke off.
”No, Micky, this isn't right,” she said, still in my arms.
”But it's not so wrong,” I answered.
* 193 *
”No, it's not.”
”Alex?” I questioned.
”No, not really.” And she let go of me, pulling away. ”Sleeping with you wouldn't change my love for her.” She looked out the window for an instant, then turned back to me. ”I won't sleep with you because I can't walk away from you. I like you too much to sleep with you, does that make sense?”
”No, but it's original. A lot of people have said no, but none of them because they liked me too much.”
”If you ever need someone, really need someone to hold you through the night, I will. I'll be there for you. Through the night and into the morning. Do you need me now or do you just want me?”
”Want,” I answered, afraid of the morning. I wasn't sure. I didn't, couldn't admit I needed her. If I did.
”Okay, then go put away the dishes.”
”Show me where.” She led the way back into the kitchen. ”Oh, and Joanne? That's the nicest rejection I've ever had,” I said.
”It wasn't a rejection. Pots and pans next to the stove,” she directed.
We had just finished making the kitchen spic-and-span when Ranson's doorbell rang. The door opened and Alex's voice called out a h.e.l.lo.
”Good thing we're doing the dishes,” Ranson commented dryly.
Then she went into the living room. I didn't hear what she said to Alex, but Alex's reply was, ”Oh, I know. But I figured I could only make the two of you safer. What mobster in his right mind would risk harming Bo and Marcia Sayers' little girl? Football alums are a bigger mob than the mob, and they take their old stars seriously. Besides, my picture was in the paper just last week. I'm too public to be killed easily.”
”Hi, Alex,” I said. ”Did you play football?”
Ranson had a look of mixed exasperation and amus.e.m.e.nt on her face and was shaking her head.
”Micky, you mean you don't know the star quarterback of the 1947 Tigers was my dad? It never fails, any man I meet over the age of thirty-five always asks if I'm number eleven's daughter,” Alex explained.
”And yes, I play football. I love tackling women.” She flashed a smile at both of us. ”Besides, I'm in the mood for a disaster. Better your kitchen than mine.” She had two shopping bags with her, which she * 194 *
handed to Ranson, who handed them to me. ”Mexican. Want to make bets on whether it will be edible or not?”
It wasn't a disaster, it was delicious. Fortunately, neither Ranson nor I had bet on it being inedible.
When Ranson finally commented on how late it was, Alex smiled.
”I've brought my pajamas. I'll go change.”
Ranson started to argue with her about the safety of staying the night.
”It's not safe leaving you with tall, good-looking women, Joanne, dear,” she answered.
Ranson and I carefully avoided looking at each other.
”Besides,” Alex continued, ”I know you silent, butch types. You'll never eat breakfast and spend the rest of the week ordering pizzas for dinner.”
Ranson relented. After seeing her around Alex for the evening, I finally began to think of her as Joanne, because she seemed more relaxed and informal than I'd ever seen her. There was a companionableness between them that I could only envy.
I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.