Impulsive (33 page)

"What gives?" Ty inquired hastily.

"There's a note taped to the outside of my locker," she
replied, her voice trembling slightly. "Another warning."

Ty dashed inside, his teammates and coach on his heels. He was
back in a flash, the note in his hand, followed by Danvers.

"What's going on?" the coach asked. "Ty says this
is the second threat you've received in a couple of days."

Jess nodded. "Yeah, and it's already getting tiresome."

Danvers frowned, repeating the words on the note. " 'Keep
talking to the police, and you're gonna get yours, bitch' is more than
tiresome, Jess. And what's this about the police?"

Ty filled him in on all that had happened Monday, adding,
"Didn't the police say anything to you when they were here yesterday
looking for Doc Johnson?"

"Not much. I guess they're playing their cards pretty close
to the vest. They just asked for Doc's home address and told me they needed to
talk to him. I thought maybe it was about Gabe."

"That, too, and a lot more," Ty said. "Look, Coach,
I don't know how much Detective Haggardy wants revealed at this point, so I
can't say anything else."

They stopped by the condo long enough for Jess to get cleaned up,
then went straight to the police department. Haggardy, looking as haggard as
his name implied, wasn't particularly surprised to see them. "Don't be
shocked if we don't get any prints off this thing," he told them as he
accepted the note. "If this is Johnson's doing, he probably wore rubber
gloves."

It wasn't three hours later, when Haggardy phoned them at Ty's.
"Thought I'd let you know the note was clean, just as I suspected. But if
Johnson left it, I'll eat my socks. A couple of our officers went by his house
again late this afternoon, and found the place still locked up. But his next
door neighbor, a sweet, nosy, little old biddy, cornered them before they could
leave. She complained about this noise, like a car motor running, coming from
Johnson's garage. Said it started shortly after midnight and went on for hours.
Kept her awake most of the night. That was enough for the officers to initiate
an immediate investigation, and they found the good doctor behind the wheel,
dead as a doornail. As things stand right now, it looks to be carbon monoxide
poisoning."

"He committed suicide?" Ty exclaimed incredulously.

"I didn't say that," Haggardy clarified. "Could be
he did, or could be someone helped him along." He switched swiftly to a
related topic. "Here's another thing you might find of interest. That
missing duffel bag of Rome's was in the trunk of Johnson's car, along with that
bottle of green foot gunk. We've sent it off to the lab, to see if they can
find any arsenic in it."

"That was convenient," Ty mused.

"Yeah, I thought so. Too damned tidy, if you ask me. Like
maybe somebody else is in on this and setting Johnson up as the fall guy. Could
be Johnson had a partner or partners in crime. That would be one way to explain
Miss Myers getting that note after the doctor's demise."

"So it's not resolved yet, even with Johnson out of the
picture," Ty surmised.

"I'd say not. We'll know more following the pathologist's
report. Meanwhile, watch your back, James. I'm pretty sure your little cutie
pie isn't involved in this, except perhaps as a future victim, but I've had
investigations take stranger twists."

"What's with you, Haggardy? First you blow hot, and then cold.
Pick one and stick with it, will you? Furthermore, Jess is no more guilty than
Corey is. I'd stake my life on that."

Jess was appalled, and livid, when Ty related what Haggardy had
said. "Why, that pompous, overblown excuse for a detective!" she
ranted. "I suppose he thinks I left myself that recorded message, and
wrote the note myself. And just how long am I supposed to have been in cahoots
with Doc Johnson, pray tell?"

"Now, Jess, calm down," Ty advised. "I know you're
not involved in any of this, but if Haggardy wants to think so, let him.
Perhaps with him keeping an eye on you, you'll be all the more safe from the
real culprit, and that suits me just fine."

Jess planted her hands on her hips and glowered at him.
"Well!" she huffed. "Isn't that dandy! So what does that make
me, other than a sitting duck?"

Ty frowned. "I hadn't thought of it in that light, but I'm
sure Haggardy has other suspects he'll be investigating as well. I simply meant
that—"

"I know what you meant, Ty, and I appreciate your vote of
confidence. But I don't like being left hanging out to dry."

"You won't be, love. I'll be looking out for you, too."

Jess sighed. "That's good to hear. You guard my back, and
I'll guard yours, and maybe we'll both come away relatively unscathed."

After a moment, Ty ventured, "You know, perhaps you should
take your godfather's advice and quit the team, at least until this guy is
caught. You could go visit your mom for a while."

"I've thought about it," she surprised him by admitting.
"But I can't let this maniac rule my life, and I can't let him get away
with murder. I'm convinced he—or they, or whoever—is responsible for Alan's
death, and probably Ervin's, too. Not to mention poisoning Gabe and attacking
you. Yes, I'm scared, but the more I consider it, the more I think our
perpetrator might be equally afraid of me."

"Afraid of you?" Ty repeated, his brow furrowing.
"Care to expound on that?"

"Look at it this way. Did he warn his other victims? Alan?
Gabe? You?"

"No."

"But he is warning me away, for some reason. Perhaps he just
doesn't like killing women, which would be a definite plus for me. Or, maybe my
basic threat to him is not that I've joined up as the team kicker, but that I'm
a reporter. He wants me out of his arena, so to speak. Away from the action,
before I can discover who he is or catch on to his next devious move."

"That certainly puts a different slant on things, doesn't
it?" Ty commented thoughtfully. "I don't know, though. It's
plausible, but adding that ingredient to the mix only complicates the whole
mess even more. Rather like pouring mud into murky water. The more you add, the
less is clear."

Jess shrugged. "It goes that way sometimes. You're cruising
along in one direction, turn a corner, and suddenly you're viewing everything
from an entirely different perspective. That's what makes investigative
reporting so intriguing. Unraveling the mystery, rooting out the rotten apple from
the rest of the bushel."

Jess
got another anonymous warning on Thursday, this time on Ty's
answering machine. Again, the theme was the same. "Look out, girlie. Your
turn is coming."

"How did he get this number?" Ty wondered angrily.
"Damn it all! After the hassle with those reporters, and getting my number
changed, now this!"

"I got mine changed then, too," Jess reminded him,
"and he still got through somehow. Which leads me to believe it's someone
we know, somebody we think we can trust." She arched a brow at him.
"Someone on the team?"

"Or who is close to a member of the team, perhaps," Ty contributed.
"Anyone with access to a player's personal phone directory. Hell, Jess!
We're still talking about hundreds of prospects."

"What about a former teammate, one who didn't make the cut?
In all likelihood, he could still be in contact with a current player, and
might have a vendetta against any number of guys who did make the team."

Ty considered this. "That has possibilities. We'll mention it
to Haggardy."

When the team flew to Florida early Saturday, Ty was with them,
insisting he was well enough to play in the Sunday afternoon bout against the
Dolphins. Regardless, he wasn't about to let Jess go without him, even if
Danvers decided not to put him in the game. When they landed in Miami, instead
of boarding the shuttle buses with their teammates, Ty led Jess directly to the
rental desk, where he picked up the keys to a car already reserved for them.
She was all the more confused when Ty drove off in the opposite direction of
the hotel where they and the team were registered.

"Where are we going?" she asked, when he failed to
volunteer the information.

"It's a surprise."

"Can't you give me a hint?"

With an enigmatic smile, he sang the first few lines of an old
song about flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

"That's it? That's my hint?"

He nodded, still humming the tune.

Jess frowned. "We're not heading toward Cape Kennedy, so I
guess a rocket launch is out. Stars. Stars," she mused. "Are we going
to one of those trendy restaurants owned by a group of actors or
something?"

"And have you drooling over a bunch of macho celebrities? No
way. Tonight is just for you and me, babe."

"Good, because if you started panting over a pair of silicone
boobs with a fake tan, I'd be heartily tempted to give you a swift kick in the
butt."

He slanted her an amused look. "Is that any way to talk to a man
recovering from a concussion? What happened to all that sweetness and sympathy
you've been oozing for the past week?"

"I'm oozed out. Give me another hint."

"A trip to the moon on gossamer wings," he crooned
cryptically.

"There's that moon thing again. Is there a launch tonight? Is
it possible to see one from this far away?"

"I think so, but you're way off base."

"And you're off-key."

They were headed toward the bay, but aside from that Jess had no
idea what Ty had up his sleeve. She was thoroughly puzzled when he turned onto
a private drive and stopped in front of a wrought iron gate. Reaching out, he
pressed the call button on an intercom atop a stone pillar, gave his name, and
the gates swung open.

"Ty? If we're visiting someone, you could at least have given
me fair warning, so I could comb my hair and change out of these jeans into
something nicer. I'm travel-worn, to put it mildly."

"Don't fuss, Jess. You're fine."

At the end of the mile-long driveway—surrounded by lawn so
perfectly manicured Jess wondered if it was artificial turf, and enough
statuary to fill a museum—they pulled up in front of a home so magnificent it
nearly robbed her of her breath.

"Oh, wow! Is this a house, a hotel, or the state capitol
building?" she exclaimed in awe.

Ty laughed. "It's a home, albeit a rather large and
extravagant one."

"So, what are we doing here?"

"Staying for the weekend."

"With whom?"

"I told you before, love. Just you and me."

Jess was flabbergasted. "But... how? Who? Why?"

"The house is for sale, and I managed to rent it for a couple
of days so we could be totally alone."

"Twenty people could be alone in this place," she
marveled. "It's huge! We'll rattle around in it like a pair of marbles in
a shoebox."

Ty grinned. "No, more like two very pampered minks in a
gilded garden."

Whistling merrily, this time to the tune of "Muskrat
Love," he rounded the car, opened her door, and held his arm out for her.
"Madam, welcome to paradise, a la Miami."

How anyone could call this place a house was beyond Jess. It
qualified hands down as a mansion, if not a small palace. The foyer alone, with
its gleaming Italian marble floor, was two-thirds the size of her apartment.
The living room, or great room, or whatever it was termed, was mammoth by
anyone's standards. White stucco walls, a multitude of windows, and an
inlaid-mosaic hardwood floor were just the beginning. The ceiling rose three stories
high, crowned by a breathtakingly beautiful stained glass dome.

"Oh, my land!" Jess gushed, eyes agog. "I've gone
and fallen down the rabbit hole!" She gazed around in wonder. "And
the place is furnished, no less!"

Ty shrugged. "I guess when you're a millionaire, you can
afford to buy new to go with your new house. Just pack your clothes and
split."