Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes (3 page)

Finding heroes in books had always been less complicated. Living vicariously through the pages had been enough. But no longer. She needed a life, she needed an adventure. Dear God, she needed something.

At five o'clock, she logged off her computer, grabbed her purse and started for the door. She had walked only a couple of steps when her cell phone rang. A glance at caller ID brought an involuntary sigh. Sam. She didn't know if she was ready for a conversation with him. She was excited about a trip to New York, but if anyone could throw cold water on her enthusiasm, it would be Sam.

They almost always had a weekend outing together, so she couldn't just disappear for a week. She wished she could, but she wasn't brought up that way. She had to tell him her plans. She returned to her chair and flipped open the phone. “Hi, Sam.”

“Hey. Have you got dinner plans?”

“Granny Dee and I are entertaining Dewey this evening at the house.”

“Dewey. You mean the old guy who owns the feed store?”

A ripple of annoyance brought a frown to her brow. “He isn't old,” she whispered, lest Dewey hear her. “He's Granny Dee's age.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam said in an appeasing tone. “Don't you think your grandmother would rather be alone with him? Why would you want to be underfoot?”

Celina tried not to be irritable, but Sam and his condescending attitude were leaning on her last patience nerve.

“I'm sure she would, but dinner was my idea. I want to talk to Granny Dee and Dewey together.”

Sam chuckled and spoke to her again in his “tolerant” voice. “Is this a birds-and-bees conversation? Did you catch them making out?”

Celina gasped. “Honestly, Sam.”

“You're the one being all secretive. Why do you have to talk to them together?”

Celina wanted to shout,
“It's none of your business!”
If she wanted to perform a striptease for the two of them, she would, and it still wouldn't be any of Sam's concern. But knowing him as she did, the truth might be more shocking than the idea of her doing a striptease. “I'm going to New York City to a private investigators convention,” she said in a rush, “and I want Dewey to help me persuade Granny Dee to go with me or convince her she doesn't have to worry about me going alone.”

Long silence. For a minute she wondered if they had lost their connection. Then she heard his laughter. She could also hear the creaking of his expensive leather chair and she secretly hoped it would topple and land him on his butt.

“I swear, Celina, for an intelligent woman, you come up with the most ridiculous ideas.”

“It isn't ridiculous. It's something worth doing. And furthermore, Sam Crenshaw, I don't remember a single time in my life when I've done something ridiculous.”

“You don't call working hard for four years at getting a
degree, then using it to open a library in Dime Box a ridiculous idea?”

Now it was Celina's turn to be silent as she attempted to tamp down the anger his attitude had spurred.

He broke the silence. “Oh, come on, now. I've made you mad. You know I didn't mean to. But you have to admit, Celina, there were many places you could have gone and gotten a job and made something of yourself.”

She made a mental gasp. “I'm sorry I've disappointed you, Sam,” she said in an even tone. “It's been my lifelong desire to make
you
proud of me. And as for making something of myself, I think I'll make myself absent from your life.”

You elitist, pompous, chauvinistic, over-educated frat rat!

She snapped the phone shut, threw it into her purse and headed for the feed store's front door, passing the open doorway to Dewey's office. “See you at the house, Dewey.”

“I sure hope I'm not putting you and your grandmother out,” Dewey said, rising from his desk chair. “I haven't had a home-cooked meal since Christmas. My sister over in Austin always puts on a big spread.”

Celina mentally patted herself on her back for her astute observation. She would be a great detective. “Our evenings are pretty uneventful. Granny Dee loves company. Having someone over for supper will be nice for her and me both.”

“Lord, I know how that is. My nights are less busy than my days, and well”—he looked down and grinned—“you've seen my days.”

He was leaning against the doorway, his legs crossed at the ankle, thumbs hooked casually in his belt loops. Though
he was in his sixties, he was a handsome man in a rugged way. She could see how her grandmother might feel an attraction.

Bidding him one final good-bye, she strode to the rusty VW and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. Inside it, she had stuffed printouts detailing the NAPI conference in New York. Celina was hoping her grandmother would want to go, too, but whether she did or not, Celina was determined to attend.

It wasn't that she needed her grandmother's permission. She wasn't a child. But it would be hard to leave without her blessing. She was hoping Dewey could help. She didn't win a lot of debates with her grandmother, and using Dewey to help tip the scale in her favor wasn't unsportsmanlike. It was more like leveling the playing field.

She wouldn't mind if Granny Dee went, either. She had a niggling fear in the back of her mind about going alone and being alone in such a huge city. Being in the company of a former New Yorker would definitely make the whole experience more interesting and more fun.

Less than fifteen minutes later she parked at the side of Granny Dee's brick home.

“I'm home,” Celina called as she went through the back door into the kitchen. The strong aroma of pot roast and Pine-Sol greeted her.

“Something sure smells good.” She noted that the dining table had been set with the best linen, silverware and crystal glasses. Usually, when she and her grandmother dined, they ate in the kitchen with the TV on.

“It's just a roast with some vegetables thrown in. I made a salad and those individual little loaves of bread you like so much.” Granny Dee's face was flushed, her voice filled with excitement. “Oh, and I made a chocolate layer cake and a cobbler from those peaches we canned last summer. I really didn't go to a lot of trouble.”

“Well, it looks beautiful and so do you. Now, I'm going to change clothes. What can I do to help you before I shower?”

“Not a thing. I've got everything under control.”

As Celina left the room, something struck her. Her grandmother always had everything under control, while she, Celina, just sort of floated along like a leaf in a ditch after a rainstorm. It was time to take control, and tonight, she thought as she raised her head high and hugged her purse closer to her chest, was the night.

L
ate in the day, after all of the Styling Station's customers had departed—and the salon had been cleaned and Debbie Sue and Edwina had said their good nights—Debbie Sue sat down with the conference information she had printed out. She felt a thrill just reading the details.

New York City.
Just the words teemed with excitement in her mind. She had traveled in the west and the Midwest back in the days when she rodeoed, but that wasn't the same as a trip to New York. As a barrel-racing star, she had dreamed of riding in Madison Square Garden.

She had to call her mom and tell her the news. She picked up the phone receiver and keyed in her mom's number.

Debbie Sue's mom, Virginia, was a composer of country-
western songs and had had several successes. After living for years in Salt Lick as a divorcée, she had remarried recently and now lived in Nashville. She answered the phone on the third
burrr
.

“Hi, Mom. It's me.

“Well, hi, sweetheart. How's your day been?”

“Mom, guess where we're going.”

“Um, California.”

Debbie Sue could scarcely contain her excitement. “New York City. Mom, we got invited to speak at the NAPI conference.”

“‘We'…? And what's NAPI?”

“The National Association of Private Investigators. Ed and I are going to be guest speakers. Ain't that a kick?”

Now her mother's excitement equaled her own. “Oh, Debbie Sue. I'm so thrilled.”

“You just don't know how great this is, Mom. It means huge publicity for the Domestic Equalizers. And it means that people at the top of the game know who we are and are taking us seriously. It means Ed and I are not a joke.”

Of course, she didn't intend to tell her mother that the Domestic Equalizers had been the second choice. Considering that Mr. Scurlock could have called thousands of other people before he called them, she thought second wasn't such a bad place.

“Sweetheart, I've never thought you and Edwina were a joke. I'll bet Buddy is so proud.”

Debbie Sue wasn't so sure of that. She had supported and cheered his rise through the ranks of the Department of
Public Safety, and most of the time he had applauded her success as well. Sometimes, though, he was a little overprotective of her and needed some assurance she wasn't doing something crazy that would put her in harm's way. “I haven't told him yet.”

Her mother made a little gasp. “Well, why not?”

“I haven't seen him since this morning. I'll tell him tonight.”

“So what are you going to speak about?”

“We're supposed to just tell how we go about spying on cheating spouses. You know, give tips.”

Virginia Miller laughed. “I'm sure you and Edwina are very capable of doing that. Just stay away from murder.”

“We will, Mom. After that craziness in Haskell, I had to promise Buddy I would never go near another dead body. He's getting ready to take the Ranger test, you know. I can't be doing things that distract him. Or worse yet, embarrass him.”

Debbie Sue and her mother always had plenty to talk about. They moved on to other things and an hour later, they hung up. She folded the pages filled with information she had printed about the conference, slid them inside her purse, turned off the lights and headed home.

Driving across the cattle-guard at the entrance to her and Buddy's rural home, Debbie Sue spotted Rocket Man grazing in the pasture off to her left. Rocket Man, her brown paint gelding, was now twenty and retired. Years back, he had galloped her to barrel-racing championships. These days he grazed and lazed in the West Texas sunshine, and occa
sionally, she treated him to his favorite. Twinkies and beer.

Buddy's black-and-white DPS car was parked under the shed attached to one end of the house. Damn, he had reached home before her. She had hoped to have supper on the table by the time he arrived.

She thought again of the conference. Perhaps Buddy would like to go. They hadn't had a vacation in a long time. Not a real vacation anyway. Each year they drove four hundred miles to the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo. They saw old friends, watched the rodeo and strolled the exhibit barns. They dined at Joe T. Garcia's, danced at Billy Bob's and walked hand in hand around Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth. It was wonderful, but a long weekend in Fort Worth wasn't a substitute for a real vacation.

Circling the house to park in the rear, she thought about what Buddy's response to her going to New York might be. It would all depend on the kind of day he'd had patrolling the Texas highways. She would test the water first. “No point putting on your bathing suit if you ain't going swimming,” she mumbled.

As she scooted out of the Silverado, three dogs yelping and dancing in frenzied excitement greeted her. That was what she loved about her dogs. Whether she had been gone all day or just stepped out of the house for five minutes, they always showed the same enthusiasm.

What she saw when she entered the back door was the payoff for a long day on her feet. All six feet and two inches of Buddy Overstreet standing at the kitchen counter, Crock-Pot lid in hand, his cop suit protected by a red ruffled apron.

In all her thirty-five years she had never loved another man the way she loved Buddy. They had literally grown up together. Married young, in love and pregnant, they had made mistakes attributed to youth. After the baby they made hadn't survived, she had gone off the deep end for a while and Buddy had divorced her. But that was the past. This was the present and the future.

“Hey, babe,” he said, looking up and grinning. “Thanks for putting this stew in the Crock-Pot. You must have done it after I left this morning.”

He took a spoon from the drawer, dipped out a spoonful of stew, blew on it and tasted. “Oh, man, that's good. I made some corn bread and—”

His words were cut off by Debbie Sue's mouth covering his. He pulled her close and returned her kiss, the exchange growing more urgent. They pushed apart and she looked up into his chocolate-colored eyes. She and he both burst into laughter.

“Damn, woman, it's good to see you, too,” he said. “If I'd known you had a thing for a man in a dress, I would've put one on sooner.”

Debbie Sue giggled and flipped the apron skirt. “This isn't a dress, but even if it was, I'd think you looked sexy. I have to admit, though, I liked you better the way you looked this morning in the shower.”

“Oh, yeah?” He bobbed his eyebrows and fingered one corner of his black mustache. “Want to see it again?”

She giggled again and stepped away from him. “Later, stud.”

She would love to drag him into the bedroom and have her way with him, but in light of what she had on her mind, she didn't want a display of passion to appear to be insincere. She pulled plates and bowls down from the cabinet. “Did anything fun happen to you today?”

Buddy was now dropping ice cubes into tall glasses. “Just the usual. Speed demons and drug smugglers. Nothing really worth repeating. You?”

Debbie Sue swallowed hard, recognizing the opening that had jumped up in front of her. “Edwina and I had a big surprise.”

“Lemme guess. Ray McCowan finally paid his bill?”

Debbie Sue laughed. “No, nothing as miraculous as that. He still thinks he doesn't owe us since we never did find proof that his wife was having an affair with Mike Ditka. The best we ever came up with was a flirtation with a priest.”

“I don't think anyone would ever mistake Ditka for a priest. Did you ever find out why he was so convinced it was Coach Ditka?”

“She told him it was. Poor thing. Her mind and her body are in two different zip codes.”

Buddy chuckled. “If it's not money from Ray, I give up. What's the big surprise?”

Debbie Sue drew a deep breath, cleared her throat and took the plunge. “The Equalizers have been asked to speak at a conference for the National Association of Private Investigators in New York City.”

There, it was out. And all in one breath, too. She carried the dishes to the table without looking back for Buddy's re
action. She wasn't sure what to expect. She waited for words, but none came.

She returned to the stove, acting casual, as if she and Edwina received such a prestigious invitation every day. He was stuffing his hand into an oven mitt and looking at her. “Why, Flash, that's great. That's a huge compliment to you and Edwina.”

She couldn't control the grin that crawled across her mouth. “It is, isn't it?”

Barely pausing for a breath, she filled him in on all the details. “And,” she concluded, “there will be detectives from the New York City police department there, too. I know they're not as cool as the Texas Rangers, but it would be a great time for you to meet and talk to your New York peers.”

“When did you say it is?” He bent over and pulled the pan of corn bread from the oven.

“I didn't, but it's in two weeks.”

He set the hot corn bread on top of the stove and yanked off the oven mitt. “That's the week before the test. I'll be studying like crazy that week. I can't possibly go anywhere.”

Buddy's path toward becoming a Texas Ranger had included four years as the sheriff of Salt Lick, two years working as a Texas DPS trooper and years of college courses. In three weeks he would be taking the test.

Debbie Sue frowned. “Damn, it is, isn't it?” She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. Suddenly an idea hit her. “You could stay in the room and study while I'm at the conference.
I wouldn't bother you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Except at night.”

“Babe, I can't take off two weeks in a row. I'm using the only week of vacation time I have left to go to Austin for the test.”

Debbie Sue nestled her face into his chest. “Then maybe I shouldn't go—”

“Now, that's just plain foolish.” Buddy set her away and held her at arm's length. “You and Edwina have worked hard for something like this. This might work out good for both of us. I can use that week alone to study without being distracted by you.” He nuzzled her neck. “Besides, didn't you say the place will be crawling with cops? At least I'll know you're safe.”

 

After a long, luxurious shower and a shampoo, Celina dried her hair, gathered it and wrapped it into a French twist. She pinned it and turned from side to side to examine the change. With her black hair and blue eyes, she had been told she resembled the actress Courtney Cox. She was a foot taller than Courtney Cox, but that was beside the point.

New York City. Me, Celina Phillips, in New York City.

Finally aware that she had lost track of time in her wool-gathering, she finished dressing and went out to the living room. Dewey was sitting on the sofa and her grandmother was serving him a glass of iced tea.

He rose and nodded to her as she entered. “Good evening, Celina.”

She spotted a bouquet of yellow roses in the middle of the table and wondered where in the world Dewey had gotten roses at the end of the day. Of the many things Dime Box didn't have, one was a florist. He had to have driven somewhere out of town. It was fun to see him wooing her grandmother and striving for his most courtly behavior. She forced herself not to chuckle. “Hi, Dewey. Did Granny Dee tell you what's on the menu tonight? I'm starving.”

“She sure did. I was hungry when I came through that door, and now that I've smelled that roast, I have to agree with you. I'm starving, too. If it's half as good as your grandma is pretty, we're gonna have a meal fit for a king.”

“Oh, stop that.” Granny Dee gave him a simpering smile. She might have been born in New York, but tonight, dressed in a frilly blue dress with tiny bows at the sleeves and matching blue bows in her hair, she looked every bit the Southern belle.

She ushered them into the dining area, her hand lingering just a second longer than necessary on Dewey's forearm. “You sit here, at the head of the table, Dewey. I believe a man belongs at the head of the table.”

Celina could almost see Dewey's chest swell. She would give anything to possess half the charm Granny Dee doled out. But then, perhaps she did. She had been able to convince the city to back her on something that wasn't exactly a financial windfall for anyone.

Midway through the meal Celina found the opportunity she had been waiting for, a brief silence in the otherwise lively conversation. “Guess what I ran across online today?”

Dewey and Granny Dee both looked in her direction, waiting.

Celina continued. “An announcement of a conference for private investigators. It's for detectives or aspiring detectives and invited guests from the New York police department. They have classes and workshops telling how to start a detective agency.”

Granny Dee put down her fork and smiled. “Why, sweetheart, I haven't heard you talk about that since you were a teenager.”

“But I didn't quit thinking about it. I never felt it was something I could really do, but those women in Salt Lick have done it, and going to this conference will help me decide if I want to do it, too.”

Dewey leaned toward Granny Dee. “Did she say ‘detective'? Like a private eye? James Bond and all that?”

Granny Dee smiled sweetly. “Not quite, Dewey. James Bond is a spy. When is the conference, Celina?”

“In two weeks.”

“My goodness, that's not very long off. Where is it?”

Taking a deep breath, Celina straightened in her chair and held her head a little higher. “It's in New York City. Would you like to go with me?”

Celina watched and waited. Her grandmother neither moved nor spoke. It was worse than she had imagined. She had thrown the most important person in her life into a catatonic state. She looked to Dewey for the support, but his gaze only volleyed back and forth between her and her grandmother.