Man Shy Page 9

The paperwork took a while. He thought about calling Mallory to say he might be delayed, but then a dispatcher reported that a truck and trailer rig had jackknifed nearby, causing a multiple-car pileup.

  Brody drove out to make sure the truck driver didn’t get cut loose before he was given a drug test, and forgot everything else when he saw the carnage at the scene of the accident. Two fatalities and eight others injured, including three in critical condition and one six-year-old who was Life-Flighted to Boise.

  About seven-thirty someone shoved a corn dog and a cup of coffee at him, reminding him of his dinner date with Mallory. He called to explain the delay and was relieved when she sounded more groggy than angry.

  So it was a shock to arrive on her doorstep at nine to find her lights off. He was just about to lean on the doorbell for the third time when he noticed an envelope with his name on it clipped to the top of the mailbox. He ripped open the note and squinted at the fine writing, edging closer to the streetlight to make out the words.

  Dear Brody, she’d written. Kyle was depressed and I was bored. We’re at the Blue Russian. She hadn’t signed it or added any of those cutesy Xs and Os. Of course, maybe she wasn’t the Xs and Os type. Just because she’d left a stilted note, it didn’t necessarily mean she was ticked.

  Yeah, right. His gut twisted. She was ticked. And no wonder. He was two hours late. He glanced at his watch. Two hours and seven minutes, to be exact. Hell, candy and flowers wouldn’t cut it this time.

  Even at a quarter after nine on a Thursday night, the Blue Russian was crowded. “Looking for someone, Detective?”

  Brody recognized the owner, Dimitri Ivanovich. His secluded home on Arrowhead Heights had been one of the first targeted by the burglary ring. “A friend of mine, Kyle Brewster.” Brody could have asked for Mallory, but figured Ivanovich was more likely to know a regular.

  “Ah, yes.” A faint smile played around the corners of the Russian’s thin, aristocratic mouth. Rumored to have been a rising star in the ballet world before a knee injury destroyed his dreams of becoming the next Baryshnikov, Ivanovich had emigrated to America. He’d taken to capitalism like a duck to water and had the Armani suits and Rolex watches to prove it.

  Ivanovich raised an eyebrow. “He is expecting you, yes?”

  “He asked me to meet him here.”

  The Russian shrugged. “I believe you will find your friend at the table in the far corner c with a young lady.” His nose twitched almost imperceptibly.

  “Another friend,” Brody said, and made his way toward them. Tim the bartender was flirting madly with a glassy-eyed Kyle while Mallory broke pretzels into crumb-sized pieces.

  “Well, hey!” Tim was the first to notice him. “If it isn’t déjà vu all over again!”

  “Pull up a chair.” Kyle’s gesture was overly precise. If Brody hadn’t known him so well, he wouldn’t have realized how drunk his friend was.

  Mallory didn’t even look up. Instead, she chose another mutilation victim from the bowl of pretzels. “Better late than never.”

  Not just ticked. Steamed. Which of his body parts would she mangle once the pretzel bowl was empty? Sorry seemed inadequate but he said it anyway, then asked Tim to bring him a beer.

  “So,” he said when the bartender moved off, “what’s up?”

  “I’m thinking about moving.” Kyle studied the table-top as if it were a map. “What do you think of Seattle?”

  “Great if you like rain.”

  “San Francisco?”

  “Earthquakes.”

  “L.A?”

  “Smog.”

  “Phoenix?”

  “Too damn hot. Look, if it’s city life you crave, what’s wrong with Boise?”

  “Dolph’s moving to Boise.” Kyle infused the words with the same drama someone else might have used for, “Killer bees just attacked downtown Brunswick and they’re headed this way.”

  “Who’s Dolph?”

  Kyle didn’t answer, seemingly preoccupied once again with the invisible map.

  Mallory frowned and shook her head.

  Tim brought Brody’s beer, then gathered up the empty glasses. “Another round here?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mallory. “I’m about ready to call it a night. What do you say, Kyle?”

  He frowned. “I’ve heard Denver’s nice.”

  SEVEN

  “Sorry I was so late tonight.” Brody smiled at Mallory across the table at Wong’s, where they were finishing up a belated dinner.

  “You said that already.” She wasn’t irritated anymore, but still thought he ought to suffer a little, just on general principle. “What’s your problem anyway?”

  “You mean, what’s the deep, underlying reason for my chronic lateness? My mom used to swear I couldn’t tell the big hand from the little hand.”

  “Maybe she should have bought you a digital watch.”

  “She did.” He grinned sheepishly. “The truth is, nine times out of ten I’d come home after school to an empty house. Mom would be running one of the other kids to baseball practice or a dentist appointment or something. And I’d be alone. So I quit coming straight home. I’d mess around until I was pretty sure someone was there, waiting for me.” He shrugged. “I never verbalized it before. Sounds pretty dumb, huh?”

  “No, we all have our little quirks.” Or in her case, a great big quirk.

  “I really am sorry, though. I should have called earlier. Next time I will.”

  Next time. Mallory tried to ignore the implication, but it was hard not to think about possibilities with Brody smiling at her, his eyes soft, his expression tender. She shifted her gaze to the tabletop. Much more of this and she’d be inviting him back to her house for a nightcap.

  Brody picked up the bill. “Are you ready?”

  “Anytime.” She slipped into her coat and gathered her things together as he went to pay the cashier.

  Outside, the warmth of the afternoon was a distant memory. Mallory hugged her coat around her, thankful the wind wasn’t blowing. She climbed into the Jeep on the passenger’s side while Brody strapped himself into the driver’s seat.

  Brody frowned at the cars backed up behind the red light across from the mall entrance at Fourth and Verde. “Damn! That’s the pickup. I swear to God, that’s the same pickup.”

  “The one that’s registered to the little old man?”

  “Arlo Davis. Right. The one I’m pretty sure was used as the getaway vehicle in the Yano robbery. Fasten your seat belt, Mallory.”

  She shot him a startled look. “We’re going to chase him?”

  “We’re going to tail him. With any luck he won’t even know we’re riding his bumper.”

  Okay, so he had a problem with chronic tardiness. At least he wasn’t a dull date. She gripped the edge of her seat tightly as Brody threw the four-wheel drive into reverse and backed out of the parking space next to the restaurant with more speed than caution. He shifted into first and sped to the exit where he flicked on his right-turn signal.

  “Shouldn’t you call for backup?”

  “I’m not planning to arrest anyone. I only want to catch a glimpse of the driver.” The light changed and traffic began to move, but both westbound lanes were full of cars. Mallory kept her eye on the gray pickup, gaining speed now that it was through the light.

  Suddenly Brody dove into traffic, bullying his way into a gap Mallory judged inadequate by a minimum of two feet. If the driver of the green BMW behind them hadn’t stood on his brakes, he’d have rear-ended them.

  “Can you see him?” asked Brody.

  “Clear as a bell. He just made a very rude finger gesture.”

  “What?”

  Mallory jerked her head toward the BMW behind them. “I think he’s irritated.”

  “Forget him. I’m talking about the pick—” He broke off abruptly. “Damn, where’d he go?”

  “There he is,” Mallory said. “Up near Bi-Mart. He just turned right.”

  “Hell!” Brody slam
med the steering wheel with the side of his fist as they got stuck behind a red light.

  Mallory suspected he would have run the stoplight if they hadn’t been three cars back.

  The light changed and traffic moved forward. Brody cut into the left lane, passing the two cars ahead of him, then switching back into the outside lane.

  Mallory noticed the green BMW was still on their tail. Its driver, a thin, bald guy with glasses, was driving one-handed while talking on a cellular phone. Not a smart move in her opinion. Not with the traffic this heavy.

  The light at the T-intersection near Bi-Mart turned amber, but Brody didn’t hesitate. Flipping on his signal, he took the corner wide, barely missing a big old boat of a Caddie that was hanging half over into their lane, waiting for a left turn.

  “I don’t see them,” she said. The parking lot was full of pickups, but none of them was gray with a matching canopy.

  “Damn!” Brody pulled into a parking space. A Brunswick Police Department cruiser pulled up on one side and the green BMW sandwiched them in on the other.

  “Yo, Cesar. What’s up, man?” Brody rolled down his window to greet the patrolman. “Mallory, say hey to Cesar Rios, one of Brunswick’s finest.”

  “We’ve met. Cesar works out at the same gym I do.”

  “Mallory.” Cesar shifted his Latin charm into overdrive, caressing each syllable of her name. “You’re looking good. Haven’t seen you in a while, pretty lady.”

  Mallory smiled. Cesar’s flattery might be a little heavy-handed, but he was a thoroughly nice guy.

  Though obviously Brody didn’t agree. He scowled at his fellow officer as if he were an ax murderer in disguise. “Socialize on your own time, Rios. Did you notice a gray Ford pickup turn down Gleason?”

  “No, actually I was trolling for speeders when a call came in.”

  “My call!” The bald man erupted from the BMW and marched around the rear of the Jeep just as Brody and Mallory were getting out. “Maniac!” He glared at Brody. “Officer, I demand that you arrest this man!” He jabbed a finger in Brody’s direction. Not the same one he’d used earlier.

  The corners of Cesar’s mouth twitched as if he were having a hard time keeping a straight face. “On what charge, sir?”

  “Reckless endangerment? Operating a vehicle under the influence of intoxicants? Driving like a moron? How the hell should I know?” The little man was so angry, he was hopping from foot to foot like an agitated sparrow. “You’re the cop, dammit!”

  Brody rose to his full six-three. Towering over the little man, he flashed his badge. “So am I.”

  “Oh, yeah?” The man frowned, huffing and puffing as he assimilated the information. “Well, Officer, that badge doesn’t give you the right to drive like a maniac. You damned near got all of us killed, pulling onto Fourth Avenue like a drunken idiot.”

  “I’m sorry. I was pursuing a suspect in a burglary.”

  “Yeah, right! Tell it to the judge.” He smirked. “My brother-in-law’s a lawyer. You’ll be hearing from us.”

  Mallory stared after the green BMW. “I thought for sure that guy was going to make a citizen’s arrest.”

  “Oh, yeah. That would have been the icing on the cake.” A frown furrowed Brody’s forehead. “Regan’s gonna love this. Probably volunteer to testify against me.

  Cesar chuckled. “Whassup, man? She still holding a grudge because you made detective instead of her?”

  “To put it mildly.”

  “Fact is, the brass wouldn’t have picked her anyway.” Cesar chewed at a toothpick he pulled from his pocket. “Hell, man. Even I had a better chance. Armstrong’s sharp, but she’s so damned unpredictable, has a real problem with her temper.”

  Brody grunted. “And meanwhile the gray pickup’s long gone. I just wanted to get close enough to ID the driver. Thought I might catch a glimpse of the guy who got away the other night.”

  Cesar nodded. “The one who tried to crush your skull. Yeah, I heard about that. Damn good thing you got all those rocks in your head.”

  Brody ignored Cesar’s good-natured insult, seemingly preoccupied with his own gloomy thoughts. His expression sent a ripple of apprehension down Mallory’s spine even though she knew his anger wasn’t directed toward her. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  “I go reset my speed trap.” Cesar twirled an invisible mustache.

  Brody shrugged. “And we go drag the gut a few times. If we get real lucky, we might run across that pickup again.”

  “Drag the gut?” What the heck was that supposed to mean?

  Cesar grinned at her confusion. “Local cop lingo,” he explained, “for cruising the truck route.” He turned to Brody, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, man. Sounds real romantic.”

  Mallory punched the buttons on the car stereo in vain, searching for a station that played something other than country or rap.

  “I see him.” Brody tensed at the wheel.

  “Where?”

  “He just pulled onto Oregon Street three cars ahead of us. Two people in the front seat. If you squint, you can see the silhouettes of their heads through the canopy window.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Just keep an eye on them, see where they go.”

  “What if they turn off?”

  “Then we turn off too. Don’t worry.” He reached across to give her hand a squeeze. “If I thought there was any danger, I wouldn’t involve you.”

  Mallory’s stomach gave a lurch, but she wasn’t concerned about the possible risks involved in what they were doing. What bothered her was the way her heart beat out of control in response to the light pressure of Brody’s fingers. Don’t do this to yourself, idiot. Nothing would come of it. Nothing could come of it.

  “I wonder where the heck he’s headed,” she said. “He’s passed a grocery store, two gas stations, four fast-food joints, a Laundromat, a video rental place, and the liquor store. What else is open this late?”

  The pickup signaled for a left turn, changed lanes, then pulled into the turn lane across from the Blue Russian. “A bar,” said Brody.

  “Aren’t we going to follow?”

  “Not just yet. Too obvious. We’ll go on up a little way and come back down the alley.”

  The alley was unpaved and largely unlit. A couple of the bigger potholes threatened to swallow the Jeep completely. Brody swung around onto the paved parking lot of the Blue Russian just as the driver of the pickup was stepping inside the bar.

  “Well, well, well. Our friend from the Yano robbery,” Brody said in satisfaction. “I’d know those hulking shoulders anywhere. That old coot, Davis, was lying through his teeth. Wonder what his connection is?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have one. Maybe the big guy took the truck without Arlo Davis’s knowledge.” Mallory shrugged. “What’s got me curious is what a big ol’ bubba like that is doing here. The Blue Russian isn’t exactly a redneck hangout.”

  “Maybe I ought to go inside and find out.”

  Brody’s voice held a hint of steel. The hairs on Mallory’s arms stood up in response. “You’re not going to start anything, are you?”

  “Why would I do that? Just because that guy’s the one who most likely coldcocked me, then stuffed me in that stinking Dumpster? Hell, I can take a joke.”

  “Brody, I’m serious. You already found out what you wanted to know. Bubba has access to the truck you saw at Denny’s, despite anything Mr. Arlo ‘Upstanding Citizen’ Davis may say to the contrary.”

  He scowled at the pickup. “True, but I’d still like to know what the hell he’s up to in there.”

  “Fine, go check it out. If you pick a fight, though, he’ll realize you’re onto him. Why tip your hand before you have enough evidence to arrest him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  A reluctant smile nudged the corners of Brody’s mouth. “What makes you so smart?”

  “Years of experience dealing with hotheaded eleven-year-olds.”

  “Guess I better watch it,
huh?” Brody’s smile widened to a full-fledged grin. “If I were to start a fight on top of those two tardies—”

  “Three tardies.”

  “Okay, on top of those three tardies, I’d get detention for sure. Which might not be so bad—not if you’re the one in charge of my punishment.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “No, I’m not.” He shoved her glasses up her nose. “Not impossible at all.”

  A tenuous thread of awareness stretched between them. Mallory held her breath, waiting. For a second she thought Brody was going to kiss her, and knew if he did, they’d both regret it.

  Perhaps he saw the panic in her eyes and changed his mind. Or perhaps he’d never intended to kiss her in the first place. But in any event, all he did was flash a quick smile and say, “I’m going to slip inside and see if I can figure out what the big guy’s up to.”

  She released her pent-up breath in a sigh and swallowed hard. “Mind if—” Her voice came out in a squeak. She swallowed again and gave it another try. “Mind if I tag along?”

  Brody shook his head. “I’d rather you stayed out here. Davis is the only one we saw go inside. His passenger may still be in the truck. I need you to keep an eye on the pickup.”

  “If the pickup leaves, am I supposed to follow?”

  “No, just pay attention to which way it goes.”

  “Okay. This might even be fun,” Mallory said with a smile. “I can pretend I’m a TV detective pulling surveillance.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Brody warned. “Real-life surveillance isn’t as exciting as the Hollywood version. If you get bored, feel free to listen to the radio.” And with that, he followed Davis inside.

  Guys have all the fun, Mallory decided ten minutes later. She sat sideways in her seat, staring fixedly at the tailgate of the pickup. Like gawking at the bumper stickers was doing any good. She sighed in frustration. From here she couldn’t see the person in the passenger’s seat. She couldn’t even see what, if anything, was hidden under the canopy. Of course, if she were to wander casually over there and maybe glance inside on her way past c

  Mallory was out of the Jeep before she’d completed the thought. She shut her door quietly, glancing around to be sure no one was watching.