Part 22 (1/2)

Beavers looked at Crusher. ”What is your role in all this?”

”I take the threat against Martha very seriously. I'm here to protect her from anyone who would hurt her.” He leaned toward Beavers and said softly, ”Anyone.”

Beavers stood, turned toward the sofa, pulled the gun out from under the pillow, and laid it on the coffee table. ”You know what happens to an ex-con caught with a firearm?”

How did he do that? He must have felt the gun when he was leaning on the pillow. Does he know Crusher put it there, or is he just guessing?

Beavers must have read my mind. ”Windows on ovens. Reflections.”

So he did see Crusher hide the gun!

I reached for the pistol. It felt cold and heavy in my hand. ”I borrowed this from Ed to protect myself. Go ahead and check. This gun is registered to Ed Pappas.”

Beavers looked at Crusher. ”Uh-huh.”

He could have arrested Crusher, but he didn't. He had just given Crusher a pa.s.s. I thought I knew why. Beavers finally understood I was in real danger and needed protection. Could it be he still cared, after all?

I put down the firearm, stood, and touched Beavers's arm with my fingertips. He stiffened ever so slightly. ”So, what do you think, Arlo? Don't you agree there's plenty of evidence to indicate someone else killed Dax Martin?”

”You still haven't given me a motive.”

”What about blackmail? Have you looked into Dax Martin's finances? Maybe he got greedy, or maybe he threatened to expose the corruption?”

”Maybe.”

I tried to think of how to tell Beavers about Diane Davis and the other things Miguel had divulged about Coach Martin-without revealing the groundskeeper source.

”Look. I heard Martin was c.o.c.ky. Maybe he crossed a line with someone else's wife, someone high up in the school hierarchy. Maybe Martin was beaten to death in a fit of jealous rage. You should look into that.”

Beavers crossed his arms. ”Go on.”

”Also, Martin was a bully who liked to throw his weight around. Maybe he p.i.s.sed off one of the parents. You know how pushy parents can be when it comes to their kids playing ball. Maybe there's a father who fits the description of the killer. You could look for someone who wears a baseball cap, has light hair, and speaks with a funny voice-like a stutterer, for example.”

”Those both sound pretty specific. And you know this how?”

”As I said, Arlo, I've got people.”

”What about names? Your people give you any names?”

”It won't take much digging to find that out.”

Beavers shook his head. ”This is vintage Martha Rose. Clever but devious. Always holding something back.”

Look who's talking! What about your blond veterinarian with the perky tail?

Crusher walked to my side. ”Hey, man. Show some respect for the lady. She stuck her neck out and did your detective job for you.”

Beavers leveled his gaze. ”What makes you think I don't already know everything she's told me?”

Crusher sneered, ”Because, man, she was the one who found the witnesses while you just d.i.c.ked around.”

Beavers studied the crystal vase filled with flowers on my kitchen counter. He looked at me with eyes both sad and hard. ”Enjoy your evening.”

Then he left.

I stared at the closed front door, torn between wanting to yell and cry.

Crusher put his arm around my shoulders. ”Putz!”

I leaned into this huge man and let angry tears spill from my eyes. He stroked my head as I buried my face in his chest and left dark, wet patches on his blue s.h.i.+rt. Then he picked me up in his arms and carried me toward the bedroom. I wrapped my arms around his neck for balance, and he rumbled an approval from somewhere deep in his chest. n.o.body had ever been strong enough to carry me before. I felt delicate and cherished.

He placed me gently on my bed and lay down next to me, bending over to kiss my wet cheeks. I still held on to him. He kissed my eyelids. ”This is my promise to you, neshamah. I will never make you cry.” He called me by a word in Hebrew meaning more than just ”honey” or ”babe.” He'd called me his ”soul.”

Then he brushed my mouth with a soft kiss, which turned wet and urgent. His hands and fingers read the curves of my body, and I s.h.i.+fted my weight so he could unhook my bra. If this was a mistake-and I'm pretty sure it was-I'd think about it tomorrow. For now, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the comfort of Yossi's generous lovemaking.

CHAPTER 35.

Once our pa.s.sion was spent, Yossi Levy held me in his arms for the rest of the night. I woke up early in the morning to the sound of his soft snoring. I lay on my side with Yossi curled up behind me, forming a huge carapace, his heavy arm draped over my shoulders. Dawn would be breaking soon and then what? Was I ready for this? Was Beavers now a thing of the past?

Oh, my G.o.d, what have I done?

I quietly slipped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. The sky turned from black to gray through the frosted gla.s.s of the window. Last night with Yossi was pure magic; but as day broke, I was terrified I'd just made the worst mistake of my life. I was pretty sure if there existed somewhere a handbasket labeled DESTINATION: h.e.l.l, I'd just earned a reserved seat.

I turned on the shower and stepped in. What'll Uncle Isaac think? He really liked Beavers. Oh, my G.o.d. What will I say to Sonia?

Later, in the kitchen, I stirred a large heap of diced potatoes and onions in sizzling hot olive oil while Crusher showered and made a couple of phone calls. Then he came up behind me and kissed my neck, tickling my skin with his beard. ”It's all settled. I'm staying here with you for as long as you need.”

All of a sudden, the room got very small; I couldn't find enough air to breathe. I turned to face him. ”No, Yossi. You staying here is a bad idea. I think we may have just made a huge mistake. A spectacular mistake.”

He smiled indulgently. ”Babe, it was spectacular.” He lightly stroked my cleavage with his fingertip and my whole body vibrated. ”You didn't like it?”

I turned back to the stove and spoke to the potatoes, stirring as fast as the words tumbled out. ”Of course I liked it! A lot! But that's the whole point. Now my life is more complicated than ever. I've got to figure things out. You've gotta let me have some s.p.a.ce here.”

”This doesn't have to be complicated.”

What had my uncle Isaac told me? ”It doesn't have to be complicated, faigele. Love and trust. They should be simple.”

Right. He hadn't just gone from dating a straight-arrow cop to spending the night making glorious love to a six-foot-six mountain of muscle-a mysterious ex-con/biker/lover/dude in a kippah.

And what about food? Feeding Crusher would require me to stir vats of food all day long, and I hated to cook. No, this could never work.

We ate a huge breakfast, starved after our marathon workout. How many calories had I burned? Then I brushed away the thought as unworthy.

At one point, he was staring at me with those hungry eyes. I quickly looked back at my plate. My head told me I should never again be intimate with Yossi Levy. I also knew that if he touched me, my body would volunteer a resounding You betcha!

”You cooked-I'll clean.” He'd just slathered his fourth piece of whole grain toast in b.u.t.ter and jam.