'That, and they're worried about an increase in taxes to maintain the road with all the extra traffic.' Pushing away from the table, he started closing plastic containers and carrying them to the fridge. 'Apparently, Stuart Gordon, ever so diplomatically, told one of the village women that this was no place to raise kids.'
'What happened?'
'Frank says they got them apart before it went much beyond name-calling.'
Wondering how far 'much beyond name-calling' went, Vicki watched Mike clean up the remains of his meal. 'Are you sure he's pissed off more than just these few people? Even if this was already a resort and he didn't have to rezone, local council must've agreed to his building permit.'
'Yeah, and local opinion would feed local council to the spirit right alongside Mr Gordon. Rumour has it they've been bought off.'
Tipping her chair back against the wall, she smiled up at him. 'Can I assume from your busy day that you've come down on the mud hole/vandals side of the argument?'
'It does seem the most likely.' He turned and scratched at the back of his neck again. When his fingertips came away damp, he heard her quick intake of breath. When he looked up, she was crossing the kitchen. Cool fingers wrapped around the side of his face.
'You didn't shave.'
It took him a moment to find his voice. 'I'm on vacation.'
Her breath lapped against him, then her tongue.
The lines between likely and unlikely blurred.
Then the sound of an approaching engine jerked him out of her embrace.
Vicki licked her lips and sighed. 'Six cylinder, sport utility, four-wheel drive, all the extras, black with gold trim.'
Celluci tucked his shirt back in. 'Stuart Gordon told you what he drives.'
'Unless you think I can tell all that from the sound of the engine.'
'Not likely.'
'A detective sergeant? I'm impressed.' Pale hands in the pockets of his tweed blazer, Stuart Gordon leaned conspiratorially in towards Celluci, too many teeth showing in too broad a grin. 'I don't suppose you could fix a few parking tickets.'
'No.'
Thin lips pursed in exaggerated reaction to the blunt monosyllable. 'Then what do you do , Detective Sergeant?'
'Violent crimes.'
Thinking that sounded a little too much like a suggestion, Vicki intervened. 'Detective Celluci has agreed to assist me this weekend. Between us, we'll be able to keep a twenty-four-hour watch.'
'Twenty-four hours?' The developer's brows drew in. 'I'm not paying more for that.'
'I'm not asking you to.'
'Good.' Stepping up on to the raised hearth as though it were a stage, he smiled with all the sincerity of a television infomercial. 'Then I'm glad to have you aboard, Detective. Mike can I call you Mike?' He continued without waiting for an answer. 'Call me Stuart. Together we'll make this a safe place for the weary masses able to pay a premium price for a premium week in the woods.' A heartbeat later, his smile grew strained. 'Don't you two have detecting to do?'
'Call me Stuart?' Shaking his head, Celluci followed Vicki's dark on dark silhouette out to the parking lot. 'Why is he here?'
'He's bait.'
'Bait? The man's a certified asshole, sure, but we are not using him to attract an angry lake spirit.'
She turned and walked backward so she could study his face. Sometimes he forgot how well she could see in the dark and forgot to mask his expressions. 'Mike, you don't believe that call-me-Stuart has actually pissed off some kind of vengeful spirit protecting Lake Nepeakea?'
'You're the one who said bait'
'Because we're not going to catch the person, or persons, who threw acid on his car unless we catch them in the act. He understands that.'
'Oh. Right.'
Feeling the bulk of the van behind her, she stopped. 'You didn't answer my question.'
He sighed and folded his arms, wishing he could see her as well as she could see him. 'Vicki, in the last four years I have been attacked by demons, mummies, zombies, werewolves'
'That wasn't an attack, that was a misunderstanding.'
'He went for my throat, I count it as an attack. I've offered my blood to the bastard son of Henry VIII and I've spent two years watching you hide from the day. There isn't anything much I don't believe in any more.'
'But'
'I believe in you,' he interrupted, 'and from there, it's not that big a step to just about anywhere. Are you going to speak with Mary Joseph tonight?'
