There, filling the entire doorway, is a behemoth of a man wearing a Lone Ranger–type mask. His feet are encased in red boots and his body is outfitted in tight, red spandex: body suit, tights, and cape. He stands there with his legs spread apart, his fists on his hips, and his arms cocked wide. On his puffed-out chest is printed a giant, yellow, capital letter
The sight of him now worries me more than it reassures me. Despite his intimidating presence, Joey is a big softy and I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt. He steps into the room and grabs for the person closest to him, which happens to be Easton. Joey, who probably outweighs Easton by a good two hundred pounds, easily pulls his quarry aside. Easton whirls around angrily, ready to throw a punch, but he freezes, staring at Joey with a look of horror on his face. And then he screams like a little girl.
“Get it off of me!” he screeches. “Oh my God, oh my God! Make it go away!” With that, Easton collapses and starts to sob. This spectacle is enough to distract the others in the room, who glance over to see what’s going on and then freeze where they are, stunned into submission. I can’t say I blame them; Joey the superhero is a rather incredulous sight.
“What the hell is that?” Tom Conklin asks, his eyes wide with fright.
Since Hurley and the other cops know Joey and his predilection for costumes, they aren’t as riveted as the rest of the group. As a result, they are finally able to gain the upper hand and cuff Tom, Sarah, and the two Heinrich sisters.
That leaves Easton, who is lying on the floor at Joey’s feet, still sobbing. He appears to have wet himself, and once Larry and Junior realize that, they look at each other, sigh, and do a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Junior wins and a reluctant Larry carefully approaches Easton and zip-ties his hands behind his back.
By now, I can see there are other people lurking in the hallway just beyond the doorway to the room: Arnie and Aaron Heinrich. I hear Arnie tell Larry, “Yeah, Joey and I were just coming back from lunch and we ran into this guy out front.” He gestures toward Aaron. “He told us about the meeting in here, and when we heard the commotion going on beyond the door, Joey went into hero mode, stripped off his regular clothes, and made his entrance.”
With everyone in the room secure, Hurley makes his way over to me and Izzy. His hair is attractively mussed, one sleeve is torn nearly off, revealing a sexy shoulder beneath, and his lower lip has a small cut on it.
“You guys okay?” he asks.
“We’re fine,” I say. “But you look a little the worse for wear.” I reach up and gingerly dab at a drip of blood on his lip. And as soon as my finger touches that soft flesh, I remember how those lips felt against mine. I feel myself growing hot and quickly pull away.
“I’m fine,” Hurley says.
“Thank goodness for Joey,” I say. “Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up when he did?”
Hurley looks offended. “We were managing just fine on our own.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I say, looking askance. “Those nut jobs were beating the crap out of you guys.”
“The hell they were,” Hurley sulks.
I look at him and break into a grin. “Well, well. Aren’t we the macho man? You can’t stand the fact that a bumbling superhero-wannabe saved your ass, can you?”
“He didn’t. We almost had them by the time Joey showed up,” Hurley argues. He looks over at Izzy. “Didn’t we?” It’s a rhetorical question. Hurley fully expects Izzy to agree with him, but instead Izzy just shakes his head.
“Crap,” Hurley says, looking crestfallen.
“It’s okay,” I say, patting him on the shoulder. “Cheer up. Nobody’s perfect. Now quit sulking, put on your big boy pants, and let’s get out of here.”
As I turn to leave the room I hear Hurley utter a parting shot behind me. “Women,” he huffs. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t get ’em to wear a leather bustier.”
Chapter 38
Oddly enough, Hurley’s parting quip gives me an idea. As soon as the Heinrich and Conklin clans are hauled off to jail, I make a phone call to Carla Andrusson and ask her if I can stop by again. She isn’t happy with yet another interruption in her dinner party preparations, but after promising to be quick, she relents.
I let Izzy know I’m heading out and make a beeline for Carla’s house before she has a chance to change her mind. When I tell her what I want her to do she is resistant at first, but after some reasoning and cajoling, she finally buys into my plan and we agree to implement it the following day.
From Carla’s house I head to the dry cleaner to pick up my gown and Hurley’s jacket. As I’m headed into the store my cell phone rings and, as I fumble for it, I run into someone who is coming out. I look up to apologize but the words freeze on my lips. Standing in front of me is Luke Nelson.
“Ah, so we meet again,” he says. He is smiling but it looks forced and the tone of his words is flat, tired, and exasperated sounding.
“Hello,” I say. I start to push by him but he stops me with a question.
“Anything new with Shannon’s case?”
I turn to look back at him, my hand on the door. “We’ve made a little progress,” I say vaguely, studying his facial expression. If my words worry him at all, he isn’t showing it.
“I hear they found the gun her husband owned.”
“Yes,” I say. “But we don’t have the ballistics report yet so we don’t know if it’s the murder weapon.” Then it hits me. “How did you hear about it already?”
“I have a few connections,” he says cryptically. His evasiveness annoys me but I can hardly complain since I’ve been that way myself. “I take it my alibi patients from the day in question have been cooperative?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So I can safely assume we won’t be having lunch again anytime soon?”
There is a hint of smugness in the way he says this that makes my hackles rise. I suspect he is deliberately taunting me. “You are safe from me,” I tell him, flashing him my best plastic smile. “At least for now.”
His eyes narrow ever so slightly when I utter this caveat and a muscle in his left cheek starts to twitch. For several intolerably long seconds we stand there staring at one another. I’m pretty certain he’s playing a game of intimidation with me so I stand my ground, refusing to break eye contact even though every nerve in my body is screaming at me to escape. It’s all I can do not to smile with relief when he finally says, “Good day,” and leaves.
Belatedly I remember the phone call I never answered. I take my cell out, look at the call history, and see it was Izzy. There is no message in my voice mail so I call him back.
“Hey, Izzy, what’s up?”
“Arnie says he’s found something of interest in the blood samples we collected from Shannon’s house. I thought you might want to be here when he tells us what it is.”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”
I disconnect the call and head inside the cleaner’s, where the same lady is on duty behind the counter. She looks nervous when she sees me and I brace myself for some bad news. Which will it be? The gown or Hurley’s jacket?
“I have your stuff ready,” she says. She disappears into the back and returns a moment later with both items placed on hangers and covered in plastic. “That was one nasty jacket,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “We had to process it three times to get the smell out.” I nod, waiting for the kicker. “So your total comes to sixty bucks. I had to charge extra for the jacket treatment.”
I wince at the price and dig out my wallet. All I have is forty-two dollars. “I guess I’ll have to wait until
