Foul Play Page 7

  “Why are we doing this? The police are conducting an investigation…”

  “The police suspect you!” How could he tell her what that did to him. How it tore him up inside. It was so dumb! A rooster, for crying out loud. Dammit, it burned him up to have that weasel Turner pointing his nasty finger at her, and it galled him to watch her garbage get pawed through.

  Man, love was the pits. It made you crazy. It was painful. Sometimes love was soft and incredibly beautiful. He couldn’t tell her how he felt. She’d think he was nuts. She might be right.

  Besides, there were other reasons. “Someone broke into my clinic and took a sick animal. I feel violated and outraged and disgusted. I know this is stupid, but I need to feel like I’m doing something helpful. I hate sitting around, feeling impotent and victimized.”

  A car pulled into the small pipestem parking lot, flashing headlights into Amy’s rear window.

  “Uh-oh,” Jake said, “we should look busy. I’d hate to be recognized here.”

  He hauled Amy halfway across the gearshift and wrapped her in his arms. “I think I’ve just found another good reason why I’m doing this,” he said, as his mouth closed over hers.

  For the first moment they kept their eyes open, watching the car pull into the parking space next to them.

  “Holy cow,” Amy whispered, “that’s Veronica Bottles.”

  She felt Jake’s arms tighten around her, pulling her down across the seat so that she was almost under him. He kissed her again, and the reality of Jake’s body pressed against hers drove out all thoughts of the brunette next to them. Amy closed her eyes and wound her arms around Jacob Elliott.

  Jake knew the moment it happened…when they had stopped hiding and started loving. He felt it in Amy’s body, the way it suddenly grew pliant, yielding under him. And he felt it in her mouth. Soft and inviting. He was lost to the feel of her under him and wanted nothing more in life than to be a part of her. He wanted to be her lover, and he wanted all the responsibilities and privileges it carried. He wanted to take care of her when she was sick, and laugh with her when she was happy, and he wanted to make her feel like a well-loved woman.

  He swept his tongue into her mouth as his hand slid under her shirt. He heard her breath catch in her throat. It was a sound that brought such a rush of emotion it frightened him.

  Lord, she was sweet. He wanted to taste every inch of her. He wanted to teach her the pleasures of passion. And that wasn’t going to happen here, he thought, dragging himself up from the depths of his own desire.

  He held Amy tight for a moment, coming to terms with his own runaway emotions. He kissed her hair and looked into her eyes, hazy with longing. “We can’t do this here.” His voice was tender, almost a murmur.

  Amy didn’t respond immediately. She was lost in her newfound sexuality, struggling to comprehend Jake’s words, struggling with the knowledge that she hadn’t wanted to stop. She was touched by the tenderness in his voice, and was suddenly guilty about her motives. She’d selfishly encouraged something that, deep down inside, she’d known was doomed from the outset. It was physically impossible to lose your virginity in her car. Well, maybe not impossible, but definitely difficult. She owed him an apology.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sorry we stopped, or are you sorry we started?”

  “Both. And I’m not ready to elaborate on the fact that I’m sorry we stopped.”

  Jake grinned at her, his smile devilish in the darkness. “I bet you’re not as sorry as I am.”

  “Oh yeah? Just how sorry are you?”

  He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Very, very sorry.”

  Amy laughed softly and pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Good heavens, what must Veronica Bottles think?”

  Jake looked surprised. “Veronica Bottles! I’d forgotten all about her. What the devil is she doing visiting Turner, anyway?”

  He trained the binoculars on the front window, but he couldn’t see anything through the narrow slit in the draperies. “Come on, Amy, let’s do some snooping. I want to see what they’re up to.”

  Amy adjusted her clothing and got out of the car. Snooping. Great. Well, nobody could say her life was dull.

  “Jake! What are you doing?” she whispered. “Get out of those bushes!”

  Jake had his nose pressed against Turner’s front window. “Damn, I can’t see a thing. They must be in the back part of the house.”

  He grabbed Amy’s hand and pulled her down the sidewalk, to the last house in the row. They skirted the end house and started making their way through dark yards.

  “The fifth house,” Jake said. “This is it.”

  Glass sliding doors opened to a cement patio. Gas barbecue, round wood picnic table with umbrella, red geraniums in oak casks. The downstairs rooms were dark; above them, light poured from a bay window, making checkered patterns on the black-looking grass.

  “I can’t see from here,” Amy whispered.

  “You’ll be able to see perfectly when I get you up in this tree.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yes,” Jake said, hoisting her above his head. “Grab the limb.”

  Amy scrambled to get a hand hold and swung her leg over the lowest branch.

  “Can you see them?”

  “Perfectly. They’re in the kitchen. Oh, goodness,” she gasped.

  “What goodness? What are they doing?”

  “They’re kissing, and…um, fondling. Right in front of the window. Holy cow, this is embarrassing.”

  “Well, now we know how she got your job, don’t we. Do you see a rooster in there?”

  “No rooster,” Amy whispered. “They’ve stopped kissing, and they’re talking. Wow, he didn’t like something she said. Hey, this is really getting good. He’s pacing around, waving his arms. Now she’s mad. Now she’s crying. Now they’re back to kissing. Now they’re…Oh, geez. She just put her hand on his—”

  “She put her hand on his what?” Jake whispered.

  “I’m getting down, and don’t you ever tell my mother I did this.”

  Jake caught her as she dropped out of the tree. “On his what?” he practically shouted.

  “On his what do you think!” Her cheeks were burning. She put her hands to them to cool them off. “Veronica Bottles doesn’t waste much time on preliminaries.”

  Jake smiled and gathered Amy to him. “I’m sorry. I was hoping you’d see Red…not an X-rated love scene.”

  A light flashed on in an upstairs bedroom, and the shades were drawn. “I think they’ll be busy for a while,” Jake said.

  He peered into the dark, ground-level windows. Nothing. He walked the length of the yard, carefully checking flowerbeds.

  Amy stood behind him while he inspected the mulch around a small dogwood. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure nothing’s been buried here,” he said grimly. He took Amy by the hand and led her to the front of the buildings, back to the car. “I think this would be a good time to check out Veronica Bottles. We’ll stop by the clinic and get her address from the files.”

  Amy took one last look at the town house and shivered before getting into her car. “Veronica Bottles and Brian Turner together. In bed. Yuck.”

  “Not a nice mental image, is it?”

  “I feel like I need a shower. Geez, you should have seen them groping at each other.” Amy made a face. “Not very romantic.”

  Jake turned onto the highway. “I suspect romance isn’t an important part of their relationship.”

  Oh hell, he thought, watching Amy. She was comparing what she’d seen in the window to her own little groping session in the car. She stared stonily out the front window, a small frown hovering in her eyebrows, her mouth compressed.

  In retrospect, their one shot at unbridled passion didn’t exactly score a ten on the romance scale, Jake decided. In fact, now that he thought about it, there wasn’t anything romantic about their relationship at all. He�
��d met her in the supermarket; she’d run him into the ground on the jogging trail; and now he’d practically jumped her bones in a cramped two-seater sports car…in a public parking lot. Wow. Amy deserved better than that.

  Of course, he had brought her a rose that first morning. He breathed a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t completely without points. He wasn’t a total clod.

  He took Amy’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Amy, what you saw in that window doesn’t have anything to do with us. People have sexual encounters for a variety of reasons.”

  “What was the reason for our…encounter?”

  What was the reason? He loved her. How could he tell her that? He’d sound like an idiot. How can you love me? she’d say. You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know my birthday, my favorite color, my ring size. How can you love me when we’ve never discussed politics, or gone to a hockey game, or been to a bakery together. Maybe we have totally different tastes in doughnuts. Jake swallowed. “Do you like Boston creams?”

  Amy blinked at him. “Um, yeah.”

  “There! You see, we have something in common.”

  “You mean, I almost lost my virginity because we both like the same pastry?”

  “Well, there’s more to it than that. There’s mutual respect, and experiences shared, and emotional involvement.”

  Amy sank deeper into her seat. “What emotion did you have in mind? Lust?”

  Jake had to admit there was a fair share of lust. “Lust would be one of them.”

  “Lust,” Amy repeated. “It’s such an ugly word. There’s no music to it, no depth.”

  “You’re right. Lust is out. How about passion? Libidinous desire, sensual appetites, erotic hunger? Personally, I like libidinous desire. There’s a lot of lip action on that one.”

  Amy smiled. He was teasing her, trying to lighten her mood. Trying to weasel out of a serious discussion. Avoiding a verbal commitment. She couldn’t blame him. They’d only known each other a few days. She couldn’t expect him to be in love with her…even though she suspected she was in love with him. “Ridiculous,” she said.

  “Okay. Ridiculously libidinous. How’s that?”

  He pulled the car into the clinic parking lot and stared dumbstruck at a squad car. “Now what?”

  “Attempted break-in,” the police officers told Jake. “We’ve got our report. We were just leaving. Good thing you have a night attendant. He really used his head.”

  Jake looked at the college student he’d hired. A purple bruise was forming on his forehead. “Are you all right?”

  The boy touched his hand to his head and grinned sheepishly. “I thought I heard someone in the parking lot, so I came in the front room to investigate. I tried to look out the little window in the top of the door, and wham, the door opened and bonked me in the head. Whoever it was, they took off before I could get to them.”

  “Were they in a car?” Jake asked.

  “I think so. That was what I heard in the parking lot. A car. But I never actually saw it.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  “About a half hour ago,” the boy replied. “At least they didn’t get any more animals.”

  Jake looked puzzled. “Yeah. You did a good job. Would you like to go to the emergency room? Get that bruise looked at?”

  The young man shook his head and brushed his sandy-colored hair out of his eyes. “I’m fine. I’d rather stay here. I’m studying in your office. This is a great job. I get paid for studying.”

  Jake looked at Amy, rifling through the files. “Did you get the address?”

  “Yes. It’s not far from here.”

  “It wasn’t Turner,” Jake said when they were in the car. “He was in his house when the break-in attempt occurred. I guess it could have been Veronica Bottles, but it doesn’t add up. Why would she want to get into the office?” His voice rose an octave. “There’s no possible reason for her to want to get into the office.”

  “Maybe she left something there. A clue. Maybe she returned to the scene of the crime to get rid of the evidence.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Miss Marple. Finally getting into this detective stuff, huh?”

  “Turn right at the stoplight,” Amy directed. “She lives in the apartment complex at the bottom of the hill.” She studied the building numbers and pointed to a parking space. “Here. I have to admit, this gets curiouser and curiouser. I never thought there’d be a second break-in.”

  “I almost rented an apartment here,” Jake said. “They’re just like mine, except they don’t have a little patch of woods behind them.”

  “I’m surprised they’d allow her to have a rooster. Don’t those things cock-a-doodle bright and early every morning?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said, “and I’ve never known a rooster that was potty trained. When we get into her apartment you should watch where you’re stepping.”

  “When we get into her apartment? No. Not me. That’s very illegal.”

  Jake parked and hauled Amy out of the car. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

  Jake found the correct door number and looked around. He took a credit card from his wallet and inserted it between the door and the jamb.

  “That’s against the law!” Amy said.

  “Nonsense. The police taught me how to do this. They wouldn’t teach me to do something illegal. It must only be illegal if you intend to steal something.” The door swung open.

  “Jacob Elliott! Don’t you dare go into that apartment.”

  “I don’t think it’s breaking and entering, because I didn’t break anything. Are you coming?” he called from the hallway. “I wouldn’t stand out there with the door open if I were you. It looks suspicious.”

  Amy put her hand over her heart and crept into the apartment. “I’m too young to go to jail. I’m just beginning my life, for crying out loud.”

  Jake closed the door behind her. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise I won’t let them take you away until you’ve…lived a little.”

  Amy gave him a black look. “You should be ashamed of yourself. A man of medicine. Isn’t this against your Hippocratic oath?”

  “I didn’t take a Hippocratic oath. I said the pledge of allegiance under a picture of Dr. Dolittle. And he’d approve of me looking for Red.”

  Jake walked through the living room, dining room, bedroom, and kitchen. He looked in the closets, in the cupboards, in the refrigerator.

  “This is strange. There’s absolutely no sign of a rooster having lived here. No rooster food. No cage. No rooster paraphernalia of any kind. That stuff costs money. If it were me, I’d wait a while before I got rid of it. I’d make sure the rooster wasn’t coming back.”

  “Maybe the rooster never lived here. Maybe she kept it someplace else.”

  “I suppose that’s possible…”

  Jake and Amy froze at the sound of a key being inserted in Veronica Bottles’s front door. “Oh hell,” Jake whispered, pushing Amy into the bedroom. “Under the bed!”

  “It’s a waterbed. There is no under.”

  “The closet! Get into the closet.”

  It was a long closet, extending three feet beyond the sliding doors. Jake dived for the deepest part of it and held Amy to him. He could feel her heart thudding against her backbone. Or was that his heart? Pull it together, he ordered himself. Don’t let the panic control you.

  He listened for footsteps, straining his ears because sound was muffled through the closet door. Footsteps in the living room. No conversation. She was alone. Jake realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a small whoosh.

  Minutes ticked by, and he became more aware of the woman in his arms. They were locked together spoon fashion, with her perfect derriere pressed against his zipper. Her hair was silky and fragrant. Her breast hung soft against his thumb. He closed his eyes and silently willed himself to keep control.

  Amy’s eyes opened wide. Something suspiciously personal was moving against her
bottom. It couldn’t be…It was! She’d read somewhere that this sort of thing happened to men when they were nervous. “Are you nervous?” she whispered.

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m ridiculously libidinous.” His hands curled around her rib cage, cuddling her even closer to him. He kissed the tip of her ear and bent to kiss the sensitive spot just below the lobe.

  Amy felt the heat pour through her. She’d never been a daredevil, but she had a sudden insight into the allure of the dangerous and exotic. Passion hummed in her veins. Her educated mind told her it was due to a surge of adrenaline, a primitive, primordial instinct to survive, to procreate. Her heart whispered more romantic reasons. This was Jake. Her protector, her love, her friend. It seemed natural to respond to him. It was the intensity that gave her cause for wonder.

  They both stiffened as a light flashed on in the bedroom, casting a sliver of yellow under the closet door. More footsteps and suddenly the closet doors were flung open, and a perfectly tanned, naked arm reached into the closet and extracted a hanger. Clothes rustled, and the hanger returned with a dress draped over it. Veronica sighed heavily and kicked her shoes into the closet.

  Amy waited, barely breathing. Hard to believe Veronica hadn’t seen them, hadn’t sensed their presence. They were so close to her. Amy could smell the cloying perfume of Veronica’s hairspray, and a disturbing idea skittered through her brain. It was the frightening acknowledgment of things unknown, of dangers present but never perceived. Had there ever been a man in her closet? If it could happen to Veronica, it could happen to Amy. Tonight she’d thoroughly examine her closets, and tomorrow she’d have better locks installed on her doors.

  There was the whisper of clothing being dropped to the floor. Panties? Amy instinctively closed her eyes and immediately realized it was absurd…she was in the back of a dark closet and couldn’t see a thing. Her knees ached from standing at rigid attention as minutes elapsed.

  “Thank goodness,” she whispered, almost collapsing with relief when she heard the shower turn on. The next few moments were a blur. Creeping through the bedroom into the living room, the foyer, out the front door.