Sweet Arrest (10 page)

From her vantage point, far out of sight, she had caught him glancing around, peering into the dark corners. He seemed almost to catch her scent in the air at one point. But she would be more careful now. Neither of them were fools. A'isha had especially surprised her with her inner strength. Looking like her feather-headed mother meant nothing. Unlike the bitch she had killed years ago for her betrayal, A'isha was made of sturdier stuff, something to take into account when next she made her move.

After they finished making love, they fell asleep in each other's arms, making her sick to her stomach with all the tenderness. She considered breaking in now to kill them while they were out, but thought better of it. No, she wanted to see the fear and pain in A'isha's eyes. She needed to break her to force her to confess where the papers were. Then A'isha would die, followed by her boy toy. Then everything would be right.

Hearing a car roll up around the front of the house, she tiptoed around to see who it was. The partner, watching the house. Time to go. Time for planning.

A'isha woke to find herself alone in bed. She sat up. “Connor?” No answer. She prayed he was just in the living room or kitchen, somewhere around the house. Her body may have stopped quaking, but she was still terrified of being alone. That woman could come back at any time.

She slipped from the bed and strolled out into the hall. Connor was leaning a shoulder on the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Hearing her, he glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide. “Not alone, A'isha!"

A shriek on her lips, she darted her naked plump body back in the room and slammed the door. The fact that she had been confident enough to stroll out there naked, knowing Connor would be able to examine her from head to toe had been a good thing. Now, she was too embarrassed to go back, even dressed. What would the other person out there be thinking of her?

When she didn't move off the side of the bed for a good twenty minutes, Connor opened the door and shut it behind him. His grin annoyed her. “Feeling shy now?"

"Go to hell,” she grumbled.

He laughed, and ignored her ugly attitude while he stole kisses along her cheek, neck and nipples.

"Stop it, you'll have me all hot,” she complained.

Dragging her hand to the rock in his pants, he said, “Too late for me."

She pulled away. “Who was out there? I'm embarrassed. I should have thought before I acted."

"Save it for when you know we're alone.” He winked. “I'd love to enjoy the view while you walk around my house.” He teased her a little longer, then moved to lean on the edge of the dresser. “I understand how you feel, baby, but unfortunately, you have no choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Carl's located Mildred Servant. She had moved around a lot without leaving much of a trail behind her. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?” He shrugged. “Anyway, we're going over to her last known address to check it out. I insisted on going along, and I'm not leaving you alone. So get dressed."

A'isha popped into the shower for the briefest wash she'd ever taken and then had to spend another fifteen minutes dodging Connor's grabby hands before she was dressed and ready to go.

Finally, they were out the door with A'isha very unhappy about Carl having caught her at Connor's house. Sure he hadn't seen A'isha naked, but he might as well have. If he let Connor's boss know about it, he might never get his job back, and worse, they might both be arrested. She would never forgive herself if she ruined his life.

On the Southside of town was where those who couldn't afford much lived. If they could, they would have moved away long before now. A'isha had often thought she was just a step from that fate. The neighborhoods were not a good place to visit during the day, less so at night. Drug activity was a given, and the news stations had quit reporting on all the murders that happened down that way.

Mildred's house was on one of the worst streets. As Connor opened the car door for her and offered her his hand to get out, A'isha considered how far down the woman had fallen. Sure she had a house, but the place was in major disrepair with many of the windows boarded up. Trash littered the yard, and the gate leading in was busted. Carl glanced at Connor and then kicked it. The entire piece fell over with crash to the ground.

A'isha frowned. “Are you sure someone lives here? It looks abandoned."

Carl shrugged. “An electric bill was paid in person by Mildred Servant as early as two days ago."

She gasped. “Damn, y'all are good."

He reddened, looking pleased with the compliment.

Connor threaded his fingers between A'isha's, unprofessional, she knew, but didn't care. His eyes scanned the area, and he held his shoulders stiff. She found herself wishing he hadn't had to give up his weapon when he was suspended. In the movies and TV shows policemen had a smorgasbord of guns. When she had suggested as much to Connor, he'd looked at her like she was an idiot. But he hadn't denied having a second weapon either. She remembered he had kept his hand at his side where he used to wear his gun when he brought her home from the hospital. Holding her on the other side, he had blocked her view, so she couldn't be sure if he had a second weapon.

Picking their way over broken stairs, they ascended to the front door, and using the same method that had worked before, Carl kicked the door. Not that he had any other option. The wood was weathered enough to have splinters, and the bell hung from frayed wires. This time the barrier held.

"Is this gothic or what?” A'isha mused. Connor shuffled her around behind him. Looking over her shoulder, she thought she was no safer in that position. Anyone could come by and ... She pushed the thought away and waited.

No answer after four more forceful kicks that seemed to rattle the foundations.

Carl drew his weapon. “Stand back,” he muttered a little too dramatic for A'isha's taste. The rickety lock shattered, and the door flew in so hard, the top hinge soon matched the doorbell. “Police! Mrs. Servant?"

They shuffled inside, Connor forcing her to stay well behind. He cast her a stern look. “Stay right here by the door, but not visible from the street. Got it?"

She shook her head. “No. I'm not staying over here. Have you ever been in a neighborhood like this, Connor? People on the street see a door busted in, and they come to see what they can grab before the cops come. I'm staying with you whether you like it or not."

He frowned. “Fine, but don't touch anything. I mean it. You shouldn't get your fingerprints anywhere."

Her eyes grew wide until they hurt. Her throat dried up. Oh goodness, why hadn't she thought of that? If it turned out Mil was involved with Cammie's murder, she could get herself implicated with Mil if they found evidence she was here. The only consolation was that Carl knew she was with him when he arrived. She just hoped the fancy stuff done on TV wasn't real, like finding a microscopic piece of something to grab DNA from. She could be incriminating herself just by coming today.

The first floor turned up empty. So did the second. Carl was headed to the rickety stairs with Connor and then A'isha behind him. A'isha couldn't wait to get out of there. The place was creepy, and smelled stale. She could have sworn she heard rats overhead and couldn't shake the image of one falling down on her shoulder. Her stomach churned. At the top of the stairs, she stumbled on the area rug and fell against Connor's back. Her muscled lover easily held her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Wow, you're strong,” she grinned, inches from his mouth. “You saved my life. I would have hurtled down the steps."

He ran the tip of his tongue along her lower lip. A shiver travelled over her body. Connor nuzzled her cheek. “That's what I'm here for."

Carl cleared his throat, and A'isha jumped to attention, releasing Connor. When she glanced up, her gaze fell on the ceiling above the stairs. She pointed. “What's that?"

Both men stopped. Carl, closer, reached up to grab hold of the thick rope hanging from the ceiling and pulled. Another set of stairs sprung down, stairs that when fully resting on the ones they occupied were shown to be covered in blood.

In a split second, Connor spun A'isha around and marched her back up the steps. “Carl, close those so we can get down. I'm taking her outside to the car. A'isha would have protested, but her stomach wouldn't allow it. As it was, she fought against hurling up the bagel they'd stopped long enough to buy on the way over here.

Once in the car, she lifted her chin to let Connor kiss her, and he punched the locks with a tight expression on his face. “Stay put, and keep it locked. I promise I won't be long. Anyone come near, yell for me.” He kissed her again and jogged back inside the house. How could anyone stand facing such horror every day?

When A'isha thought she might scream for Connor just to get out of the car, he strolled out of the door with Carl at his side, barking into his phone. A'isha jumped from the car and ran up to him. “What's happening?"

He looked grim. “This Mildred Servant—she light brown skinned"—he waved a finger back and forward over his top lip—"semi-thick mustache and a penchant for wearing bad wigs?"

A'isha swayed. Connor wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Yes, that sounds like her."

"Someone murdered her.” Connor sighed. “We're still running our investigation, but I'd say it's a sure bet she was not involved in Cammie's murder."

A'isha buried her face in Connor's chest. She shuddered. “I never liked her much. She and my mother were always arguing, but I would never want her dead. And what connection could it have to me?” She glanced up. “It doesn't, does it? Just a coincidence?"

He rubbed her back and turned away to speak with Carl, but she yanked his arm to force him to face her.

"What aren't you telling me, Connor?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut before answering. “Carl noticed something clutched in her hand. It was a flyer for your shop."

She shrugged. “So? That was one of my many attempts to get more customers. I had like a thousand of those stupid things printed up only to get little or no return on investment. I don't know. I think I have a black thumb or something. I have no luck in business."

"A'isha.” He pulled her close and slanted a hand over her mouth to stop her monologue. “The flyer had a circle, lined over many times around your phone number. And hand written was a note that said ‘Call A'isha to warn her'. Still think it's unrelated?"

The blood rushed from her head. “No. No, not at all."

"Why are we here, Connor?” A'isha complained. “I've come to hate this place, and I made the decision last night to sell. Not that I expect to get much if anything. I have a huge amount of debt to pay off behind this money pit!"

Her words were harsh and uncaring, but Connor gave her a knowing look. He knew she was putting on a brave face. This was her mother's place, and she had failed to keep the dream alive. Shame made her want to curl into a ball and cry her eyes out, but instead, she pretended none of it mattered. As they say, she was broke, busted and disgusted.

"We should have come here long before now,” Connor informed her. “The mystery woman was looking to get inside this room you claim is where your mother locked away her prized recipes. We should have searched it from the start."

A'isha grumbled while placing her freshly-baked chocolate chip scones with bananas mixed in on the counter. See if she would make his ass another treat after his insinuation about her mother's recipes. “Don't believe me if you don't want to, but I know what my mother told me, and I've been in that room. It's nothing but piles of old books with hand-written recipes in them. She kept them in themes like Western or Mexican or formal gatherings, like that."

He brushed her hands away from the plate of treats and helped himself to one. “Mmm, perfect as I thought, and still warm.” Pointing a half eaten treat at her, he spoke with his mouth full. “Have you considered turning your mother's recipes into cookbooks and getting them published? If you mother was half the baker you are, you'd make a fortune."

A'isha's heart skittered for a moment then went back to normal. She blushed. “Thanks. And I've thought about it at my most desperate times, but I felt guilty."

"You should seriously think about it, A'isha. Maybe you're right, the business end of baking isn't for you, but that doesn't mean you have to give up what you love.” He took her into his arms. A'isha kissed crumbs from the corners of his mouth. Damn, he was beautiful.

"I've thought about teaching too,” she admitted, her eyes cast down.

"Another great idea.” He put her out of his arms. “But first we solve this bigger problem. And I will stay right by your side as we do it.” He lifted her chin, his eyes dark blue and serious. “I will still be here, if you want me, when it's over to help you choose the path you want most."

Now her heart did pound. Was he saying what she thought he was? She didn't dare believe it. After the killer was caught was soon enough. She was still going to sell the bakery, but Connor had suggested a great alternative to finding some lame job she didn't want. Someone else validating the idea of making her mother's work into cookbooks seemed to make it a little more okay to do. And on top of that, he was offering himself. Life was not as bad a she thought.

"Okay, let's get started. The sooner this is over, the better."

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For all A'isha's going on and on about her mother's secret work, Connor didn't know what he expected to be in the storage closet once she unlocked it. Racks lined the walls on either side with four shelves each. Two rows of both were stacked with thick notebooks. They weren't the composition type, but what looked like handmade stacks of thick paper, hole-punched and tied together with lacey ribbon. The sight of them made him wonder if her mother wasn't much more of a business woman than she was. All of it would have gone on a single CD.

"This is it?” he wondered aloud, forgetting that she thought this place was as valuable as Fort Knox.