Whiskey For Breakfast Page 8

  We all went to stand at the front window and watched as a wizened Hispanic woman walked right down the middle of the street. Her walker had green tennis balls stuck to the bottom and her purse sat in the little basket attached to the top bar.

  Cars were stopped on both sides of her, but she pretended she didn’t see them waiting for her to move.

  “I wish she’d use her scooter,” Byron said. “Lord, she’s slow.”

  We all moved in tandem to the front porch as Mrs. Rodriguez finally started making her way up the sidewalk. My first thought was I had no idea how we were going to get her up the stairs and into the house. My second thought was that Mrs. Rodriguez was probably the worst neighborhood watchman to ever exist.

  She stopped about ten feet from the house and zeroed in on me. “Did you make the muffins?” Her accent was heavy and her scowl was mean as a snake.

  I swallowed and nodded.

  “Good,” she said, picking up her walker and slamming it back down on the sidewalk for impact. “Don’t let gordo eat them all.”

  Her gaze turned to Byron and he dropped the muffin he was eating onto the porch. She let out an impressive stream of Spanish and finished it off by spitting onto my sidewalk. My nose crinkled in revulsion and I backed up slowly, thinking I could just slip back inside the house and lock them all out. This was crazy even by my standards.

  I’d barely taken a step when she looked back at me and I froze. There was something about her that struck terror into my very soul. She wasn’t even five feet tall and her face resembled a dried raisin. Her eyes were black as pitch and her dark hair was streaked with silver. Her NAD shirt was tucked into black pants pulled up to her armpits and her shoes were orthopedic.

  “You!” she called out. Savage put his hand on my shoulder and I leaned into it. I appreciated the support. “You not throw up on my lawn anymore. This is good. You kill my roses and I almost did the voodoo on you.”

  “S…sorry,” I managed to get out. “And thank you for not doing the voodoo on me. I have enough bad luck.”

  “Sí, I know. It is punishment enough. Now show me your walk.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Show me your walk. What is your song?”

  “We haven’t gotten that far, Mrs. Rodriguez,” Spock said, pulling a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I have the agenda right here. First we need to have muffins and coffee, followed by a reading of the minutes. Then we need to discuss old business and what to do about that new man that moved in at the end of the street. I think he’s a serial killer, but I can’t see him well enough from my house. Ted’s the one who’ll have to keep watch on him since they’re neighbors. Then Savage is going to show us those new martial arts moves. Then we can move to new business and give Addison her signal and her theme song.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I’m confused. Theme song?” I turned to Savage and he took advantage of the situation to pull me closer.

  “Everyone has a theme song that helps them stay focused on the job,” he explained. “When you walk down the street on your neighborhood watch rounds you do it to the beat of your theme song. It’s very effective at giving you the right attitude.”

  “Sí,” Mrs. Rodriguez agreed. “No motherfuckers mess with me when I’m strutting to my song. Mine is Bad to the Bone.” She sang out a few lines. “B-B-B-B-Bad. Bad to the bone.”

  “That’s a good one,” Byron agreed. “Mine’s Poison. I even learned the dance. I can teach you later.” Byron busted into something that wasn’t even close to being recognizable as dance moves, and my whole front porch shuddered and groaned under his weight.

  “I can’t wait to learn it,” I said. I could feel my eyes getting bigger and bigger and I was afraid it was going to come to the point where they just popped right out of my head. I turned to Savage and tried to smile. “Can I talk to you for a minute in private?”

  Savage kept his arm around me and ushered me back inside the house. Before I knew what was happening he had me pressed against the door and his mouth was hot on mine. My brain cells scrambled and it took me a minute to remember I wasn’t going to do this.

  “That T-shirt is driving me crazy.”

  He kissed me again with a lot of tongue and whatever it was that was pressed against my pubic bone felt good enough that my legs somehow ended up around his waist.

  “Wait, I can’t do this.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure you can. I can feel your heat through a layer of denim. You’re hot enough to singe.”

  I thunked my head against the door several times and he carried me to the middle of the room. Embarrassment scalded my cheeks as I realized my legs were still in a chokehold around his waist.

  I pushed against his chest and untangled my legs and he held me steady as my feet touched the floor. My heart was thumping in my chest and my lips and other places on my body tingled from the contact. Savage was a damn good kisser. And we definitely had chemistry. The problem was I’d kissed Nick less than forty-eight hours ago, and as good as the chemistry was between me and Savage, it was about a million times stronger between me and Nick.

  Nick and I were over, but it kind of felt like it wasn’t completely over, and I didn’t want to do anything I’d regret later.

  “Listen, you’ve got to stop kissing me.”

  “I don’t know. I kind of like kissing you. It’s going to be hard to stop. And you like kissing me too.”

  “I know. But I don’t like it enough.” I sighed and dropped back into one of the overstuffed chairs and closed my eyes. “Listen, Savage. I’ve got to be completely honest with you. You’re not it for me. You’re a great kisser, and Lord knows you’re nice to look at and could probably rock my world, but we’re never going to be anything more than friends. I’m pretty much ruined for all other men.”

  “Ahh, the great Detective Dempsey. I didn’t realize you were back together.”

  “We’re not. But he pretty much trampled my heart to dust. I thought he was it for me, and I’m not up for anything serious at the moment. You either need to accept it and stop with the full court press or I’m going to have Mrs. Rodriguez do the voodoo on you.”

  “I can accept it,” he agreed. “For now. But I figure this is a good thing. Friends hang out, right? We can hang out for a while—watch some movies and find some good places to eat—and then eventually you’ll forget all about that other guy and realize it should’ve been me all along.”

  I banged my head against the back of the chair several times. “Why do I always find the stubborn ones? It’s like I have radar.”

  “I guess you’re just lucky. Are you going to this wedding rehearsal thing with Dempsey?”

  “Apparently.”

  “If he broke your heart, why are you being a glutton for punishment?”

  “He’s paying me five hundred dollars.”

  Savage barked out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Come on, let’s go get your theme song and get everyone out of here before you decide to pull out your gun. I had to start leaving mine at home because the temptation became too great.”

  “I don’t even understand why you’re a part of this group. This is insanity.”

  “It’s entertaining for the most part. And the others are so nosy they’re actually a pretty good deterrent for theft or vandalism. If anything like that happens they call me on my cell and let me handle it. It’s really pretty harmless, and we only meet once a month so it doesn’t take a lot of time, though I know the others take turns patrolling the neighborhood at different hours.”

  I sighed and felt myself being sucked into something I knew could only lead to disaster. “So what’s your theme song?” I asked.

  His smile was slow and I felt a little flutter in my chest. I had a feeling being friends with Savage wasn’t going to be any easier than avoiding his advances.

  “What if I told you it was Hot For Teacher?”

  “I’d say it’s a good thing I got fired.”

  He pulled me
up from the chair and ushered me back to the front door where the others waited.

  “Maybe if you ever decide you want to be something more than friends, I’ll tell you what it is. Otherwise, I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The NAD meeting was adjourned just before noon, and I turned down an invitation to join Spock for lunch. Savage found my case file on Tannenbaum sitting on the bar and the notes I’d made and was now poring over what I’d found.

  “Tannenbaum,” he said. “I recognize that name.”

  “I’d think so. I think he owns most of the state of Georgia.”

  “So what’s the deal? He’s looking for a long lost son?”

  “He was diagnosed with terminal cancer and realized he didn’t have any blood relatives to leave his fortune to. The problem is his son is the result of a back alley sperm bank, so it might not be very easy to track him down. Especially with what little information we have. I’ve narrowed it down to about a hundred women, but I’ve got to go through each of them one by one so it’s going to take a little while.”

  “I could help you do it faster you know,” he said, and I immediately became suspicious at the offer.

  “And what would I have to do in return?”

  “Nothing,” he said, grinning. “Just a friend helping another friend out in his spare time. “Besides, it’s the weekend and I’ve got nothing better to do but work on the deck I’m building in my backyard.”

  I’d never been to Savage’s house, and as long as I had a single working brain cell in my head I’d never step foot across the threshold. It would be a point of no return.

  “I’ve got resources Kate doesn’t have. And you could feed me lunch as payment.”

  I let out a slow breath of relief. For once Savage wasn’t flirting and there wasn’t any tension between us. Maybe the friends thing would work out after all.

  “Deal.”

  I grabbed my laptop from the desk in my bedroom and came back to join him on the couch. I filled him in on the story Mr. Tannenbaum had told us about Doc Neeley and the extra services he provided out of his clinic. I also told him how Doc Neeley’s career ended in flames. Savage’s eyebrows raised as the story unfolded, but otherwise he stayed silent. I watched as he went to work on the computer, using the FBI databases to access information I couldn’t.

  I probably wasn’t supposed to be seeing the things he was doing, but Savage had never been one to follow the rules overmuch. Rules were more like guidelines to a man like Savage. Much like the dress code of FBI agents. Savage dressed in a black suit and white shirt with a black tie five days a week. But he wore the loudest, most colorful socks he could find right along with them. He’d once told me if I was impressed by his socks that I should get a look at his underwear, but I’d passed. The thought of Savage’s underwear made me have hot flashes.

  “That’s a little better,” Savage said. And just like that my hundred names were narrowed down to twenty-five.

  “Maybe I should let Mr. Tannenbaum look through the list and see if anything is jarred loose. It was a long time ago. Surely he knew more than the color of her hair or that her husband was a banker.”

  “I don’t know. Men aren’t the most observant creatures. And most men donating sperm for cash don’t care about anything but the money in their pocket.”

  I arched a brow. “Have a lot of experience with sperm banks, do you?”

  He grinned. “I’m just putting myself in his place. I’m a professional. It’s what I do.” He looked up at the clock and closed the computer lid. “If you’re going to go see Mr. Tannenbaum before your rehearsal dinner you’d better get busy. I’ll let you know if I narrow it down further.”

  I followed Savage to the door and opened it for him, a little shell shocked from the complete one-eighty our relationship had just taken.

  “See you around, neighbor,” he said, stepping onto the porch.

  “Really?”

  “What am I supposed to say?”

  “I don’t know. Usually at this point you’re trying to melt my clothes off with your X-ray vision.”

  His smile was slow and I felt that damn flutter in my stomach again. “I don’t need X-ray vision. That shirt is pretty much a miracle. ”

  ***

  It wasn’t until I’d changed into a black sweater set and pulled on my Uggs that I remembered I didn’t have a car. The weather was looking yucky again, and I didn’t have enough cash to pay for a cab.

  I bit my bottom lip as I contemplated who to call. I could probably ask Savage to borrow his SUV, but he’d probably want to come with me and I didn’t want to test the chemistry fates again. It would take my mother too long to get here, and she’d also insist on coming with me. My only other option was Rosemarie, but I had no idea if she was in any shape to go anywhere. She and Leroy had left in a hurry and they’d both had an awful lot to drink.

  I gave her a call anyway and was surprised when she picked up after the first ring.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “I’ve gotta get out of this house. Leroy is still here. I think he’s moving in.”

  “Can you pick me up? I need to go talk to a client about his case.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  For Rosemarie to make it to my house in ten minutes she had to have her shoes on and already be walking out the door. She’d also have to drive like a bat out of hell, but that never stopped Rosemarie.

  Nine and a half minutes later, she squealed to a stop in front of my house. She knocked on the door before I had my purse in hand.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked, darting past me and into the tiny half bathroom in the hallway. “I swear that man is a sex maniac. Every time I tried to close myself in the bathroom for a minute of privacy he was there ready and raring to go.”

  My eyebrows were pretty much stuck in the up position. The last thing I wanted to think about was Leroy raring to go. I heard the toilet flush and the sink running and Rosemarie came back out, her hands waving in agitation. I hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at her when she’d first come in. She had whisker burn on her neck and dark circles under her eyes. Her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket and her shirt was on inside out. She must have left in a hurry.

  We got in the car and I gave Rosemarie the address for Mr. Tannenbaum’s house. She was silent for most of the drive, and I was starting to get a little worried. Rosemarie was never silent.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” I asked. “You seem a little upset.”

  She fanned herself with her shirt. “I’m just a little kerfuzzled. That man rocked my world. Though I’ve never had a lover scream like that before during sex. Has that ever happened to you?”

  “Not that I can say.”

  “Hmm. Scared the hell out of me. And then he cried for a good half hour after we were finished. What’s the deal with that?”

  “What’d you do?” I was fascinated by Rosemarie in the same way I was fascinated by carnies at the Whiskey Bayou fair or hobos I saw riding on the trains.

  “I made him a bowl of vanilla ice cream and poured chocolate syrup over the top. Shut him right up. And then he got real creative with the chocolate syrup. I’m not sure I can keep going at a pace like that. You’d never guess it by looking, but Leroy is hung like Harry the Wonderhorse.”

  “No, I never would have guessed.”

  “Damned deceiving is what it is. Men like that should come with a label. I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m not in shape to go five times a night. You’ve gotta stretch and do yoga to prepare for that kind of sex.”

  I could sympathize with Rosemarie. It sounded like Nick and Leroy had a lot in common. I pretty much had felt kerfuzzled after my first night with Nick too.

  We pulled up to Mr. Tannenbaum’s house. It was three stories of gray stone. A small garden with creepy statues of little children and their pets was protected by a wrought iron dou
ble gate with an ornate T right in the middle. The fence surrounding the property was made of the same gray stone as the house and it was at least ten feet high.

  “Lord, would you look at that?” Rosemarie said. “Right next door to the cemetery. You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to live in this house. I bet it’s haunted.”

  I pressed the buzzer and gave my name, and the gates opened with a creak. I saw a couple of video cameras as we made our way up the sidewalk and to the front porch. Big flower urns sat on either side of the door and bright red impatiens tumbled over the sides. Another camera sat just over the door, and I figured a man worth as much as Mr. Tannenbaum probably had pretty good security.

  The house had one of the old-timey buzzers that you pulled and it screeched like a cat tossed in a bathtub. I expected a butler to answer the door, so I was surprised when Mr. Tannenbaum himself greeted us.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Come in, come in. I have my cook making some tea. We’re going to get storms before the afternoon is over, and there’s supposed to be a cold front come through.”

  “Thanks for seeing us, Mr. Tannenbaum.” He looked a little better today than he had at Kate’s office, but there was still a significant tremble in his hands. “This is my friend Rosemarie. She’s helping me out with your case.”

  “Sure, sure. Whatever it takes to find my son quickly. Do you have any leads?”

  “I’ve narrowed it down to about twenty-five women. I was wondering if you’d mind taking a look and seeing if any of the details jogged your memory about Rose. Maybe her last name?”

  “I don’t suppose you have any photographs,” he said. “I’d remember her right off if I could see her face. She was a looker.”

  He waited until Rosemarie and I were seated on the ugly green upholstered couch in the den, and then he took his own seat in the matching chair across from us. A massive fireplace took up almost a whole wall, and floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the garden took up the other wall. It was a masculine room that looked like it hadn’t been redecorated since 1982.