Hot and Irresistible (10 page)

She grinned like a teenager after her first real date. And in a way Donovan was just that, except she was not a teenager. Donovan made her feel like a woman. She fed the cats, then poured coffee. “Cop, schmop, the man makes great coffee,” she said to the fur balls, who weren’t impressed at all. “And he brought me cookies.” Took a lot to impress cats…like a bowlful of chopped fish guts.

She’d never met a man like Donovan. Doubted if there was another man like him. He stayed with her last night, made wild wonderful love to her, and tried to convince her she was beautiful. Dara may have played mind games, but it was a real stretch to beautiful.

But what if this was all a ploy and Donovan was the one playing her to get to Cleveland? She had the notes on the morgue murders and the fire and she knew Cleveland. Then again, what if Donovan wasn’t playing her and he was the real deal and he really cared about her?

Life was a lot less complicated in the celibate state. Of course it wasn’t fun. Cleaning up this mess could come later. Right now she had to see Donovan. If she looked him square in the eyes she’d know what was going on, right? It was easy to fall in love with a handsome hunk under the seduction of night, but in the bright of day was another story. And was this…love? It was
like
, she knew that. A lot of like. A lovey kind of like. “Crap. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

She cleaned herself up, then headed for the station. On Sunday morning it didn’t take more than ten minutes to get anywhere in Savannah. Pulling into the parking lot behind the redbrick building, she spied Joe Earl trotting down the back steps in his best golf gear of red polo shirt and green pants. Church wasn’t the only place of Sunday gathering in Savannah, but in church they didn’t dress like a leftover Christmas tree. “When’s tee-off time?” she asked, meeting Joe Earl halfway across the lot.

“Eleven.” He pushed his golf hat complete with pompom…they really did wear those things…to the back of his head, looking unpleasant, or as unpleasant as one could look with a pompom on their head. And Joe Earl was always happy…usually. Even on a takedown. If criminals gave nice-cop-of-the-year award, Joe Earl would win. “So,” he said. “I’m guessing you and McCabe came to some kind of an agreement. I got to tell you I never saw it coming.”

She blushed. “Me, neither. It just sort of happened.”

“Never thought you’d give up Ray Cleveland that way.”

“Huh? What? There’s no giving up Cleveland. He’s out of the picture, Joe Earl. In fact everything’s out of the picture, except me. Donovan’s taking vacation. Right here in Savannah. No more case. No more gambling problem. No more warrant or murder investigation. Didn’t Donovan tell you that part?”

“McCabe didn’t tell me shit. When was the last time you talked to that guy?”

“Last night. Late last night.”

“Well damn.” Joe Earl nodded toward the station. “A lot’s happened from late last night and now.”

“No,” she said holding up her hands to ward off the crappy feeling coming her way. “I just talked to him a few short hours ago. It’s Sunday, for crying out loud. Nothing goes on around here Sunday.”

“You’d be plum surprised. You best go find Donovan. I’ll be out at the Cove or the country club if you need me. Things are getting might sticky around here, mighty sticky indeed, and it’s looking like you and Donovan are right smack in the middle of it all.”

But she didn’t want to be in the middle of it all, she wanted to be back in bed with Donovan. Bebe headed for the door just as Donovan came out. “Bebe?”

He had a fistful of official-looking papers that sure as heck weren’t vacation travel brochures. “We need to talk.” He nodded to the side of the building. “There’s been a…development.”

“No good conversation ever started with ‘we need to talk’ and I think
development
is code for ‘I screwed Bebe so she’d help me get Ray Cleveland.’” She swatted at the papers in his hand. “I met up with Joe Earl. You creep. You think I’m that desperate for a man in my life that I’d fall for you and help you take down a friend?”

“The congressman who sent me here in the first place came in town this morning for some golf tournament.” Donovan held the papers out to her. “He’s got some good ideas for the task force.”

“When it comes to romance I totally suck. I bet all my romance genes went to that Angelina Jolie person. I get someone feeding me a bunch of manure about how this is perfect and that’s perfect and then uses me to get ahead. Well, heck. I can’t even land a damn Yankee!”

“The congressman is sponsoring a bill to fund the Sly Gavin Task Force. Sly was my partner back in Boston and this would go a long way in bringing down some pretty bad characters in organized crime. Cops would learn how to handle situations like the one that killed Sly. He was a great cop, Bebe. You would have liked him. He sure as hell likes you…would have liked you. And this would mean a lot to his family. He was their only son and we were friends and I should have been there when he needed me and then he wouldn’t have died like some rat in the gutter.”

The words hung in the air and Bebe’s heart stopped dead in her chest as she looked at Donovan stunned by what he’d said. Donovan blamed himself for his partner’s death and it was killing him. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”

“I don’t know what happened,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I’m not a big-city cop, but I know that if you were there with Sly, you both would have both been killed. Organized crime is just that…organized. If they took out your partner, they would have taken you out, too. I’m sorry, Donovan. I’m so very sorry.”

He swallowed, trying to get himself together, and her heart cracked. He hurt so much and there wasn’t anything she or anyone could do to make it go away.

“The congressman wants Cleveland no matter what it takes. I think he got a lot of ribbing from losing like he did. He’s out for blood.”

“So he’s bribing you to get him.”

“If Ray’s guilty, it’s not a bribe, it’s proof. Last night I was willing for someone else to do the job, but now…I want this for Sly, for his family.”

“He was your friend and Ray Cleveland’s mine. Keeping Ray out of jail is the one thing I can do for him. So, we’re right back where we started.” They stared at each other, knowing that the last part was a lie. Last night happened and that was way beyond from where they started.

“I’m going to the morgue,” Donovan said. “The Italian brothers know more than they’re letting on. They’ve worked in that damn place for months now. They must have found something. If they came across that necklace, it could lead to the murderer.”

“Meaning Cleveland. It’s back to that infuriating necklace again,” Bebe sighed. “Always the necklace. Last night I said if I found it I’d sell the damn thing, give the money away, and not tell a soul, and I haven’t changed my mind one iota. It’s cursed, I swear it is.”

“Where exactly did you make this statement?”

“Prissy was doing that spell that didn’t work and…and…” Her eyes met Donovan’s. “Holy crap. I was at the Magnolia House bar with wall-to-wall people and someone heard me and that was what they were looking for at my apartment. They thought I had the necklace.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, for crying in a bucket, of course not, but that necklace is the key to a lot of what’s going on around here. I’m going with you to the morgue. I don’t need you coming across some evidence and twisting it around to suit your purpose of nailing Ray.”

“You think I’d do that?”

“Sly was your partner and you’re dealing with a belly full of anger and guilt. Enough of that and a guy will do almost anything.”

He took her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “I didn’t use you last night and I wish to hell this was not about Ray. We may be on opposite sides of this case, but it is the same case. I want evidence to find Cleveland guilty, you want to find him innocent, and there’s someone out there who probably doesn’t want either of us to find anything. If we don’t have each other’s back, there’s a good chance one of us will wind up with a bullet there and that is not an option. So what do you want to do?”

“I want to roll the clocks back to last night and forget this morning happened, but that’s not going to happen, so I’ll go with solving this case once and for all and getting you the hell out of my life.”

His cop face didn’t budge, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes, the same that was in her heart. “It’s the best we can do.”

He kissed her hard, catching her completely off guard, fire in his eyes replacing the regret. “No, that’s the best we can do.”

Donovan walked off to his Jeep and she licked her lips for another taste of him. Just when she got it straight in her brain it was all business between them and their partnership began and ended with the badge, he had to kiss her, making things not straight at all. What was she supposed to do with a kiss like that?

She parked behind Donovan at the morgue, the spring morning warm and smelling of azaleas, magnolias, lilies, and jasmine. Together they took the front steps. Windows sat open, letting in the fresh air. There was activity inside; at least the brothers were home. “Is there anything more heavenly smelling than jasmine?”

“Yeah, pie. Anthony baked. Cherry, I think.” Donovan knocked and the movement inside went quiet immediately, followed by running footsteps that didn’t come toward the front door.

Donovan drew his weapon and tried the front door. Locked. “Someone’s in there again who shouldn’t be and I’m damn tired of chasing ghosts. This time we’re nailing their asses.” He said to Bebe, “You stay here, I’ll take the back.”

Bebe watched Donovan disappear around the corner of the building. Stay here? Fuck stay here. Bad language for a bad morning. She ran down the steps and climbed up on the old tiered iron fountain. Balancing on the third bowl, she lunged for the open window, skidded inside, taking a fresh-baked and still warm pie clean off the counter as she slid across, then onto the floor. See, that’s what she got for using the “f” word.

Following scrambling footsteps, she tore for the rear of the morgue, spied Donovan coming the other way, trapping the two suspects between them. “Stop,” Bebe shouted, pointing her gun at their backs. “Police. Stay right where you are.”

“Don’t you dare shoot us,” the lady said, turning around. “I’ll have your jobs if you so much as harm one hair on our heads.” She was older, sixties maybe, not that breaking and entering had an age limit, but the woman had on layers of gold jewelry, a lavender scarf, and matching hat, and the guy wore pressed trousers, a tweed sports coat, and a fedora. Breaking and entering goes to Saks.

“What in the world happened to you,” Donovan asked, looking at Bebe as he came up the hall.

“You were right about the cherry part and never cuss on a Sunday morning.”

“We have a right to be here,” the woman huffed. “And if you were competent police officers like we have in Boston and doing your job the way you’re supposed to, we wouldn’t have to be here doing it for you now. I’ve already written a letter of complaint to the mayor’s office about the irresponsibility of the police force.”

Reluctantly, Bebe put her weapon away. “Who the heck are you?”

“The Raeburns, of course,” the woman tsked as if everyone should know the name and if they didn’t they should burn in hell for all eternity. “I’m Edwina and this is my husband Shipley. We are Jaden Carswell’s grandparents from Boston, not that it matters to her. What a rude girl. I cannot imagine who raised her, she has no manners and—”

“Oh, you mean Charlotte,” Bebe said. “You’re Char’s grandparents and you’re the ones who believe you have a claim on the necklace.” They were also the ones who wouldn’t take in their grandbaby thirty years ago after their daughter was murdered.

“A claim?” Shipley’s eyes turned to gray pinpoints. “My dear girl, we own that necklace.” Edwina added, “My mother…for reasons I will never understand…gave the necklace to my daughter, bypassing me entirely. My daughter is dead, so that necklace belongs now to me, and I intend to find it, whatever it takes.”

“Uh, that necklace belongs to Charlotte, your granddaughter. Her parents were killed because of it. I think that alone gives her points.”

Edwina scowled. “That necklace is the Kent Shelton necklace. It is museum quality. Thirteen yellow diamonds and thirteen white diamonds, over sixty carats in all. It’s worth a fortune not only because of the jewels themselves but also because of the history surrounding it.”

“Do Anthony and Vincent Biscotti know about you being here? Do you have their permission to look around?”

“We only want what belongs to us, and if you do not help us we will take it up with the governor. We travel in connected circles, and is that cherry pie in your hair?”

“I beg your pardon,” came Daemon Rutledge’s voice from the side hallway. The man looked mortified and he gave Bebe a pleading look. “I’ve come to fetch the Raeburns. I used the side door and was looking for them when I couldn’t find them outside and—”

Side door? Bebe ate a cherry off her sleeve. She forgot about the side door.

“Well, it’s about time you got yourself here,” Edwina huffed at Rutledge. “Southerners have no sense of responsibility or promptness and with all the unhealthy food you consume, or wear, you deserve to have heart attacks and I cannot wait to get back home with
my
necklace. Come, Shipley, I’ve had enough. I think it’s time we hired a private investigator who knows the city and the people here. He’ll get to the bottom of all this for us.”