Kiss Them Goodbye. Stella Cameron
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in the morning.”
Idiot woman. How did she think she was going to get to Spike without waking up Homer and Wendy? And what made her imagine for one moment that the object of her fantasies would be delighted if she dropped in on him when he probably had to be on duty early?
Apart from a single bulb at the corner of the building, the gas station lights were off. The store, set far back from the road, was also in darkness and she couldn’t see the house which she thought was closer to the bayou.
Spike’s Ford sedan, complete with insignia on the trunk and front doors, stood beneath the gas station light. Pretty good deterrent to troublemakers.
Vivian pulled her van in, considered for a moment whether she had the courage to walk boldly to the house and leave the food on the gallery—with a note on top—and decided she certainly did.
If the striped moon weren’t still casting some light, it would be difficult to see without a flashlight and she’d run the risk of disturbing someone.
The only sounds were of rustling leaves and buggy nightlife with voices way too big for their size.
Once past the gas station and beside the store, Vivian saw the dark outline of Spike’s house. Bigger than she’d expected, it stood on substantial stilts. The gallery had to be on the other side, facing the bayou. The part of the building she approached probably contained the bedrooms.
A little jumpy, she hurried around the house, skirting a light-colored van as she went and, sure enough, two wooden chairs glowed white on a screened gallery—between them stood a miniature version. Wendy’s. Vivian swallowed. Intruding here without an invitation was a dumb idea.
The dishes she’d brought were stacked in a plastic crate with wire handles. A picnic table sat out front of the gallery. She placed the crate there and backed away, wiping her hands on the legs of her jeans.
Oh sure, that would be there in the morning.
Animals around here were too well-mannered to eat every scrap and spread dishes and debris in all direction. Then there were birds. Like the crows that had hung out around Louis’s body, diving in for pieces of his hamburger and fries. She couldn’t expect to forget too easily.
She stared at the back of the house again. The complete lack of lights surprised her, but it could also prove convenient.
Hiking the crate from the table, she hunched over and approached the steps to the gallery and door. On the balls of her sneaker-shod feet, she climbed the wooden stairs, unnerved by a sensation that she ought to check behind her. She wasn’t easily frightened, or not usually.
On the gallery, against the split log wall and right by the door, Vivian eased her burden down once more. She’d forgotten to write a note but he’d know where the food was from.
”Don’t move.”
The whispered order might as well have been shouted. Vivian stumbled and landed on her knees. A light snapped on, a light with a blinding beam that settled over her like a stage spot.
“You drove here alone? You walked around out here in the dark alone?”
“I’m not twelve.”
He looked skyward. “There’s a murderer on the loose around here. And in case you’ve forgotten he killed at Rosebank—right at your home—and you don’t know what he came for. Only to kill Louis Martin? I doubt it. Could be he wanted something in the briefcase and that was it. We don’t know, though. Could be he wanted to get at you.” He held a gun against his thigh. “Didn’t anyone stop you when you were leaving? No, obviously they didn’t. Damn Bonine’s sloppy hide.”
She shivered and crossed her arms under her breasts.
“Goddammit!” Spike turned down the beam and hurried to her on silent feet. He stuffed the gun into the waist of the jeans that were all he wore and hauled her up with one hand. He dropped his voice. “What do you think you’re doing? Why? Why would you do something as stupid as creeping up on my house in the early hours of the morning? Damn it, Vivian, I’m…You could have been killed.”
When she could moisten her mouth enough to speak, she said, “You didn’t have dinner. I decided to drop the food by for you to share with your family.”
“Keep your voice down, I won’t have Wendy scared for nothing.” With that he bundled her down the steps to the warm, damp grass and away from the house.
For nothing. He was right, but she still felt bad to hear him refer to her that way. “I’m really sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “I stayed up because I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. To be honest, I didn’t think it through before I got in the van. Forgive me, please. I’ll go now so don’t give this another thought. I am sorry I woke you up.”
“Ah hell,” he said and released her arm. “Nothing’s simple, know that?”
“Yes.”
Spike recognized this as proof that there was no way he could let her know how he really felt, not now and maybe never. His life wouldn’t mix with any woman’s. He touched her face and she recoiled. “Oh great,” he said. “I frightened you. I frightened you. That makes me feel like hell.”
“No, no, don’t. You were only guarding your family and property. I put you on alert and a man like you goes on autopilot then, you have to. You thought I was…I’m an intruder.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m not doing too well with the law, am I?”
If he argued with her, he’d get himself in deeper water. “It’s too warm,” he told her. “Feel like something cold to drink?”
“We’d wake someone up. Thanks anyway.”
“No, in the store. No one will hear us there.”
A woman could put some spin on a comment like that. Unfortunately he was simply trying to recover balance for both of them by being polite and pretending he was already over her mistake.
“C’mon, Vivian, don’t make me suffer because I was an ass. Let me try to make it right so I can quit kicking myself.”
She looked at the shadows that were his face, and the unreadable gleam in his eyes, and smiled. “I can’t believe what I did.” She clapped her hands to her cheeks and shuddered.
“Come with me,” Spike said, “Gimme a break, okay? I want a cold drink and I want you with me while I have it. And we need to get some things straight between us—or I think so.”
She thought so, too, but didn’t pretend to herself that she’d like the result. “If you’re sure you want to do that, I am, too.”
Spike was more than sure he wanted to snatch at least this opportunity to be alone with Vivian. He was long past the age of buying a girl a soda and expecting nothing more than conversation and his own sexual frustration.
It would have to do.
Homer kept a spare key in one of the pots of flowers that hung from the eaves all around the store. This was one time when the idea didn’t irritate Spike.
He opened up and put a hand at Vivian’s waist to usher her inside.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice while she backed up against his hand. “It feels strange in here. You aren’t supposed to be inside stores when they’re closed.”
It didn’t feel out of place to slide his hand around her and splay his fingers to span her ribs. She stood so close he felt the warmth of her body.
“I didn’t know your shop was so big,” she said and her voice sounded real small. “Why do all the freestanding displays look weird just because there isn’t much light? They aren’t scary in daylight.”
He didn’t think what he was doing until his mouth touched her hair. He whispered in her ear, “Things we aren’t used to. The ordinary becomes mysterious when the context is out of whack.” They stood still