Skating Around the Law Read online

  Pop grinned. He looked so pleased with the plan I didn’t have the heart to tell him his teeth were coming loose. Apparently, so was my head, since it was nodding up and down in agreement. Before I could come to my senses, Pop stood up from the table and shuffled back upstairs to get ready for the upcoming evening. I, however, slumped in my chair wondering what had come over me.

  I had agreed to break into Mack’s house, again. I was going to do it in the dead of night, and this time I was bringing my grandfather.

  Ten

  My Monday nights in Chicago were normally spent at Nick’s Sports Bar, where I played video poker and watched whatever sporting events were on the big screen.

  This Monday night I was sitting at a large folding table in the Indian Falls Senior Center holding a fistful of diamonds and hearts and trying to decide what game I was supposed to be playing now. So far I’d played Euchre, Hearts, Crazy Eights, and a rip-roaring round of Go Fish, and I’d lost every one. I was hoping it was due to my lack of interest rather than the strategic prowess of my opponents. Pop had ditched me the minute we got to the center’s makeshift game room, and somehow I had been seated with a woman wearing very red, very smeared lipstick and two men with pants hiked up to their necks.

  Lipstick woman smiled at me. “It’s your turn, dear.”

  I put down a card, and the smile disappeared.

  “You’re supposed to play suit.”

  “Sorry.” I picked up my card and put down another one. I was clueless as to why, but the red-lipped lady nodded.

  Mercifully, whatever game I was playing ended. I begged off the next one and headed to the bathroom. Away from the table, I did a scan of the room. No Pop, but I spotted Louise standing in the far corner. My feet started in her direction.

  Now that I was closer to Louise, I could see her eyes were red and glassy. She wiped them and straightened her shoulders as she saw me approach. “Good evening, Rebecca. It was very sweet of you to come with your grandfather.” It was a nice speech, I thought. Too bad the sniffles ruined her delivery.

  I wanted to ask what was wrong. Only I didn’t feel it was my place. Besides making crackpot scarecrows and boffing my grandfather, Louise was a mystery to me, and I was pretty sure I wanted to keep it that way. Smiling, I asked, “Speaking of my grandfather, have you seen him anywhere?”

  Louise’s red-rimmed eyes grew wide. “He’s…he’s…” Her eyes started to leak. She bit her lip and pointed toward one of the exits as she wailed, “With her.”

  “Her who?” The words just slipped out. I knew I had made a mistake the second Louise’s sniffles turned to sobs. Big fat tears poured down her scrunched-up face. Louise now bore a startling resemblance to a basset hound. I put a hand on her arm. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

  Okay, I was bluffing. It was probably much worse. Pop hadn’t bothered to tell Louise that he played the field. He and I were going to have a long talk—if I scrounged up the courage.

  Louise’s eyes filled with hope. “Do you really think so?” Nodding seemed like the best course of action, and Louise gave me a watery smile. “I’m sorry for being so emotional. Your grandfather and I have become very good friends. A lot of the women here are jealous. It’s because he looks like Sean Connery.”

  My grandfather appeared in a far doorway, all five feet nine inches of him swathed in black. Black jeans, black button-down shirt, black boots, and a black baseball cap that covered his wavy white hair. If I had a couple of martinis and squinted really hard, he might pass for Sean Connery’s mailman. Louise was in love. Or she was legally blind.

  Pop tilted his head toward the doorway and disappeared. I said good-bye to Louise and found him on the other side of the door. He was grinning like a mad game show host. Come to think of it, Pop looked a lot like Bob Barker before Botox.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  Pop’s smile grew wider. “I’ve been getting cozy with Eleanor Schaffer. She can be really accommodating if you’re nice to her.”

  I clamped my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. “I do not need to hear this.”

  “Rebecca Robbins, stop behaving like a child this minute. I want you to listen to me.”

  It was his tone more than his words that stunned me enough to remove my hands. This wasn’t the sex-crazed old man I’d been living with the past two weeks. This was Pop, who’d taught me how to ride a bike and grounded me when my mother couldn’t bring herself to do it. This was a man who meant business.

  My grandfather gave a satisfied nod. He glanced up and down the hall, then whispered, “Eleanor’s been Doc Truman’s secretary for years. She has a key to his office. I figured I could get Eleanor to unlock Doc’s office. Then while I keep her busy in the back, you can flip through Doc’s files. They’ll tell you what drug killed Mack.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Pop shushed me, but I ignored him, saying, “Look, even if you could convince Eleanor to go to the office at this time of night, I don’t want to steal medical files. It’s just not right.” Rebecca Robbins, morality police. Breaking into a dead guy’s house later tonight, well, that was another story.

  Pop frowned. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m the one making the sacrifices to help you solve this case. Eleanor isn’t my type, you know.”

  I wasn’t impressed. As far as I could tell, my grandfather only had one type—still breathing.

  “Arthur, sweetheart? Where did my honey go?” I turned to see the source of the high-pitched voice coming down the hallway. My grandfather’s newest conquest was about four inches taller and three feet wider than he was. Somehow Eleanor had sausaged her ample body into a 1980s-style white spandex jumpsuit complete with a shiny gold belt. She was also wearing at least a pound of makeup and false eyelashes the size of tarantulas.

  Okay. She wasn’t Pop’s type, but the Abominable Snowman might give her a whirl.

  Eleanor’s eyes widened at the sight of my grandfather. Her gold-spangled heels started clip-clopping down the hallway in hot pursuit. She stopped next to him and put a large, possessive arm on his shoulder while crooning, “There you are, pumpkin. You were gone so long that I started to get worried.”

  “Rebecca here needed to talk.” My grandfather winked at me before smiling back at her. “Eleanor, have you met my granddaughter?”

  Eleanor tittered. “Not since she was little. I was sorry to hear about your mother, honey. She was a real nice lady.”

  I don’t know why, but genuine sympathy always makes me feel weepy. My throat went dry and tight. I tried my best to smile as I said, “I know.” Saying the words made me sniffle, and Eleanor removed her arm from Pop and draped it around me. Before I knew what was happening, I was squeezed against her very ample bosom and turning blue from lack of oxygen.

  Pop saved me from the humiliation of passing out by saying, “Are you ready to leave, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor let go. “Anytime you are, honeybunch.”

  I took a step backward. Gasping for air, I shook my head at Pop. I was not going to go to Doc Truman’s office.

  Pop ignored me. “Eleanor, why don’t you say good-bye to some of your friends. I’ll get the car, and you can meet me up front. A few ladies might be upset if they see us together.” He winked at her. Eleanor winked back and ambled into the main room, blowing him a kiss as she went.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Now what?”

  “Now we go to the car, and you hide in the backseat. Once we get to the office, you wait five minutes. Then you can come in and find the file. Piece of cake.”

  Right. “I’m not doing it.”

  “Okay.” Pop gave me an exaggerated shrug. “Eleanor and I will go. You can stay and play Crazy Eights with the Golden Girls. I’ll swing back later to pick you up.”

  Pop put his hands in his pockets and sauntered toward the back exit. I peeked into the lounge. The smeared lipstick lady snored over her hand, and the guy next to her scratched his crotch before picking up his
cards. Okay, maybe hiding in the backseat wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  I caught up to Pop by his Lincoln Town Car. The car had been my grandmother’s. After she died, it sat unused in the garage for years. Then one day Pop sold his truck and started driving it. My mother had tried to get him to trade it in two years ago, claiming it was a death trap. Death trap or not, the car had a roomy backseat.

  I got into a cramped but almost comfortable fetal position on the backseat floor. Then my grandfather threw a blanket over my head. Now I wasn’t just cramped, I was hot. Yippee.

  “Hold on tight, Rebecca. I’ll swing around to pick up Eleanor. We’ll be at the office in a jiffy.”

  He hit the accelerator, and my head bashed into the front seat as the car jumped to life with a squeal of tires. A minute later, the car came to a stop. I heard the passenger door open.

  “I love your car, Arthur.” My side of the car lowered noticeably as Eleanor climbed in. “I just need to adjust the seat. These long legs need a lot of room.”

  Oh no. This was not happening. Only it was. The seat in front of me began traveling toward my nose. I held my breath, feeling like I was in an adventure movie I’d watched on cable. The bad guy ended up flat as a pancake, and I prayed the same wouldn’t happen to me.

  I was about to scream when the seat stopped moving. I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn’t comfortable, but I wasn’t dead. Life could be worse.

  Eleanor chirped, “I’m ready whenever you are, Arthur.” Her voice got all husky when she added, “In more ways than you know.”

  I gagged as the car lurched into gear and hummed down the road, drowning out anything else Eleanor might have added.

  Thank God Doc Truman’s office was only five blocks away. The car doors opened, and I heard Eleanor’s heels click against the sidewalk. A few moments later, a door opened and slammed shut. That was my cue to flip the quilt and get the hell out of Pop’s cramped backseat.

  Now seated in the very roomy front seat, I debated whether I wanted to go through with my grandfather’s plan. Getting the name of the drug that killed Mack would put me a heck of a lot closer to solving the crime. Still, going into Doc’s office and taking information was stealing, which was bad. On the other hand, the purpose behind it was good. I was torn.

  My fingers brushed the passenger door’s handle just as a pair of headlights turned into the tiny parking lot. My heart leapt into my larynx, and on pure instinct, I ducked. I didn’t want to go down in Indian Falls history as my grandfather’s sexual lookout.

  A car door slammed, and footsteps traveled the asphalt. More curious than cautious now, I peeked over the dashboard just in time to see Doc Truman disappear inside the building. Two minutes later (I clocked it), my grandfather came scurrying out with his shirt untucked. A black boot was dangling from his left hand.

  “Busted,” Pop said as he hopped in the car and cranked it to life. “At least Eleanor and I didn’t get very far. I’d hate to have sex with her without you getting that file.” I rolled my eyes, and off we zoomed.

  We traveled in silence for a few minutes as the reality of what had nearly happened hit me. I had been about to go into that office. Had he pulled up two minutes later, Doc would have caught me red-handed in his drawers. I shivered and vowed that I would only obtain the drug information through a very legal Plan B. I only wished I knew what that might be.

  We pulled up to Mack Murphy’s house, and Pop killed the engine. He got out, but I didn’t move. It was dark. Very, very dark. Not that I was scared of the dark. Good things often happened when the lights were off. Well, not often enough, but occasionally. It’s just that I’d forgotten how dark it got outside the city limits. No streetlights. No house lights. Tonight there was no moonlight, either.

  “Rebecca, what are you waiting for?” Pop’s shadowy outline limped toward my side of the car. Pop still hadn’t put on his boot.

  I opened the door but shook my head. “We can’t do this tonight.”

  “Why not?” Pop bent over and grunted while tugging on his boot. “We’re here. The house is empty.” He stood upright. “I say we go in.”

  I crossed my arms. “It’s dark.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “We can’t turn on the lights or the neighbors will notice.”

  Pop pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and showed it to me. Turning it on, he started walking up to the house.

  I dashed after him. “You can’t get in without me, Pop. You don’t have the key.”

  “Damn kids break windows around here all the time.” He climbed onto the front porch and studied the door. “Do you think I should use a rock or my boot?”

  I moved my grandfather to the side. “Okay. I’ll do it.” I fished the key out of my pocket and slid it in the lock. Before Pop could protest, I grabbed the flashlight and said, “Stay here. I’ll only be a minute.”

  I slipped into the house and closed the door behind me. My little beam of light pointed toward the debris-filled floor, and I hurried through the house and up the stairs to Mack’s bedroom.

  Entering the bedroom, I let out a low whistle. Deputy Sean had done a thorough job of tossing the place. The house had been untidy before, but now it looked like a tornado had hit—hard—and the money was gone. Either Deputy Sean had decided to line his own pockets or someone else had come in and swiped the cash. My bet was on the unknown thief. I didn’t think Sean was devious enough to keep that kind of secret—at least not for more than fifteen minutes. In high school, the football team always knew immediately after Sean scored with a cheerleader. So who was the thief, and how did I go about finding him?

  The floorboard creaked behind me. My chest tightened, and I slowly turned. I panned my flashlight through the door, looking for something to pummel my assailant with. The light hit the doorway, and in bopped my grandfather.

  “Did you see all the crap Mack has around here? I could have fallen and broken my hip walking through this place.”

  I let out a relieved sigh. “I thought I told you to wait outside.”

  “I’m not a dog, Rebecca. I don’t have to stay when someone tells me to.” The dim light made his grin look ghostly. “Besides, I wanted to see what Mack’s place looked like. Funny, but I thought it would have looked better since Mack stole all those deposits. This place is a dump.”

  For some reason I felt the need to defend poor Mack. “His office is nice. I think that’s where he spent most of his time.”

  “Huh.” Pop glanced down the hall. “After the thing with Eleanor, I’m not really interested in offices.” He turned back toward me. “Did you find out what we came here for?”

  I nodded. “Lionel was right. The money’s gone.”

  “Too bad. We could have had fun with it on a riverboat casino. Well, I guess we should go.” He started down the hall. I caught up to him and led the way down the stairs with my flashlight. Behind me Pop complained, “This trip was a real disappointment. I was waiting to see a bunch of money or a dead body or something. Why do you get all the excitement? All I got coming here was a messy house. I got gypped.”

  “Next time I break into a house I’ll take you along,” I promised. I opened the front door and walked right into a brick wall disguised as a chest. Panic flooded through me, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “What’s going on out there, Rebecca?” I heard my grandfather’s footsteps on the porch, but I didn’t turn around. My eyes were riveted on the dark, hulking figure in front of me. The guy was at least a head taller than my five foot six and was dressed like he’d just stepped out of a Godfather movie—dark shirt, tie, and suit and all muscle. Holy shit, I thought, taking a step back. Blood pumped furiously through my veins as the man glowered at me.

  My grandfather moved to stand next to me. He poked his finger at the guy’s chest and demanded, “Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Pop.” I nudged my grandfather and smiled at the scary guy. “Sorry. We’re just surprise
d to run into someone out here this late at night.”

  The man stared at me like a wolf sizing up its next meal.

  Gulping, I grabbed Pop’s arm. “We were just leaving.” I began to step around the guy.

  Steroid-man moved to the side, blocking our path. “Are you friends of Mack Murphy?” His accent was straight-up New Jersey. Perfect.

  I was about to answer no when Pop puffed up his nonexistent chest and chimed in, “What’s it to you?”

  The big guy took a step backward. “I didn’t mean nothin’ bad by it. You had a key to the house. I figure you were friends of his. Am I right?”

  Pop opened his mouth, and I stepped on his foot.

  “We both knew him,” I agreed. “How about you? Were you and Mack friends?”

  “We were business associates.” The guy put his hand in his pocket. I held my breath waiting for him to pull out a gun. His hand came out with a business card, and I took it with a sigh of relief. The card read ANTHONY CATALANO ENTERPRISES. The company was located in Rock Island, Illinois.

  “What kind of enterprising stuff do you do?” I asked.

  Anthony gave a tense smile. “I like to dabble in a lot of different businesses. Kind of like Mack. He and I were talking about his business interests before he turned up dead.”

  “Oh,” I said. Anthony made it sound like people falling over dead was a common occurrence. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know what kind of work Catalano Enterprises did. I smiled, though I was finding it hard to breathe. “Well, we should get going. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Catalano.”

  I scooted past the human mountain. Pulling Pop behind me, I headed for the car.

  “Hey,” Anthony bellowed.

  I stopped in my tracks. “Yeah?” My voice cracked.

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  Hmmm, how could I have forgotten that?

  Before I could make something up, Pop yelled, “Arthur Phillips. Don’t you forget it.”