Nine
Watching the show next door was boring without any audio or wrestling matches. The only excitement occurred when the uniformed cop pulled Zach out of the back of the squad car, presumably so that Mr. P could get a look at him to see if he knew him. Mr. Petra let out a bellow of rage loud enough for Norah to hear before barreling toward a handcuffed Zach.
“You destructive moron!” Mr. P yelled as Mill chased after him. Their neighbor got within ten feet of Zach before Mill grabbed him and yanked him back. “You need to be locked up for life. You destroyed a one-of-a-kind gazing ball! One. Of. A. Kind !”
Mr. P seemed to lose his momentum at that point, his shoulders slumping as he allowed Mill to usher him back to his porch.
“I feel kind of bad for him,” Cara muttered quietly. “We were responsible for Zach being on his porch after all.”
“Sure, but remember when he called the cops on us because he measured a piece of our grass with a ruler and it was an eighth of an inch longer than allowed by city ordinance?” Molly asked, still peering at the scene outside through an opening between the window frame and the edge of the blinds. “Or when we were kids and spent weeks building that little tree house in the cottonwood that’s right next to his yard, and he destroyed it when we were at school? I mean, it was pathetic and probably would’ve led to us falling to our deaths, but there was still no excuse for him smashing it to bits with a sledgehammer. Oh! And when we saved our money to get rainbow Christmas lights, and he cut the plug off every single strand during the night because he didn’t want decorations that ‘promoted homosexuality’ in the neighborhood?”
“Fine! Fine,” Cara put her hands on her head as if protecting herself from an onslaught. “I was wrong. He doesn’t deserve my pity. My pity for Mr. P has officially dried up.”
Norah smiled a little at the memories Molly had brought up. “I loved those Christmas lights. They were so bright .”
“Yeah.” Judging by Molly’s sigh, she was feeling nostalgic too. “I wish he’d gotten electrocuted when he took his garden shears to them.”
“Molly!” Cara sounded both legitimately shocked but also like she was trying not to laugh, which took some of the impact away from her scolding.
“Fine,” Molly grumped. “I wish he’d gotten a solid, painful—but not deadly—shock. Is that better?”
“We should decorate the house for Christmas again this year,” Norah suggested absently as she watched Mr. Petra wave his arms as he talked to Mill.
“Oh, let’s.” Molly sounded so gleeful Norah was surprised she wasn’t rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “That’ll be brilliant.”
“Especially if we leave them up until July.” Cara looked serious, but the corner of her mouth twitched, making Molly lose it completely.
When she finally regained control of herself, Molly wiped her eyes and returned to her surveillance spot at the side of the window. “And you thought I was wicked for wishing he’d been electrocuted. You want to torture him for months instead.”
Cara just offered a tiny yet smug smile. “A quick death is too good for him. I loved that tree house.”
More amused than she should probably be at a discussion about torturing their neighbor, Norah peeked through the blinds. She was careful not to get too close so she didn’t bump them. Neither cop was looking their way, but she didn’t want to be obvious about it and draw their attention.
The uniformed officer had returned Zach to the safety of the back seat and was speaking with Mr. P and Detective Mill. Without being able to hear what they were saying, Norah’s mind drifted. She wondered where Dash ended up holing up for the afternoon. This probably wasn’t the way he’d wanted to spend his day off.
The cop turned away from his huddle with Mill and Mr. Petra, striding over to the driver’s side door of his squad car. After a few more minutes of what looked like Mr. P lecturing Mill, judging by the amount of times the smaller man’s finger poked the detective in the chest, their neighbor gave Mill a final stab and walked into his house.
Norah and her sisters grew quiet and still as they watched the last remaining man standing on Mr. P’s front walk.
“Just get in your car,” Molly mumbled, making Norah bite back a chuckle. It almost sounded as if Molly was trying to hypnotize the detective from a distance. “Get in your car, and follow the nice, competent cop back to the station.”
Molly’s hypnosis skills obviously needed work, because Mill’s gaze locked on Norah and her sisters’ house. Glancing down the road as if making sure the other cop was out of sight, he strode toward their front door. Norah’s stomach clenched.
“C’mon.” Molly was at the top of the stairs before Norah had even processed the fact that Mill was coming to their house.
She hurried to follow her sisters down the stairs but froze when she reached the bottom. What did the detective want? Why was he trekking over to their place? She swallowed hard. Did he know something? Was there a hole he noticed in Dash’s improvised story?
Molly moved to the security controls and deactivated the alarm. The familiar screech of the screen door opening made Norah’s stomach twist into an even tighter knot, but Molly’s expression was calm as she walked to the door.
As she yanked it open, Detective Mill was revealed. His fist was raised as if he’d been just about to pound on it. Wanting to back up her sister, Norah moved closer, noticing that Cara did the same. Even though Mill hadn’t been arrested like his partner, no one in their family trusted him one bit—especially since he seemed bound and determined to catch them doing something illegal.
“Detective Mill.” Molly bared her teeth in what couldn’t quite be considered a smile. “How… lovely to see you.”
Even as her stomach tightened, Norah had to hold back a snort. The word “lovely” had positively dripped with malice.
“I have some questions for you about an incident at your neighbor’s house.” Mill didn’t even bother with the niceties as he pushed open the screen door wider, moving as if to step inside.
Molly didn’t move, continuing to block the doorway. Norah moved closer, adding to the barrier.
“Why don’t you want me inside?” Mill asked with an unpleasant, sneering smile. “What are you girls hiding?”
“First of all…” It was Molly’s turn to step forward, and Mill automatically took a step back, yielding the space to her. From his immediate frown, he wasn’t happy about it. “We are not girls . Second, there’s no reason for you to come inside to talk about something that happened at the neighbor’s . We can talk out here.”
Although Mill scowled, he backed up another step so that Molly, closely followed by Norah and Cara, could step out onto the porch. Norah pulled the solid door closed behind them, not allowing Mill even a peek into their home. Warrant, who’d wandered up behind them to greet the visitor, gave her a hurt look when she closed the door in his face, and she mentally promised the dog an apology treat once Mill was gone before focusing on the detective again.
“What can we help you with this time, Detective?” Molly asked in a long-suffering tone.
Norah hid her chuckle in a covered cough. The way she’d phrased it made it sound as if the police were constantly asking for their assistance with open cases. From the darkening patches of red creeping up Mill’s neck from his shirt collar, he didn’t find that as funny as Norah had.
“Does the name Zach Fridley ring any bells?”
Norah felt the churning in her stomach start up again. After the day—weeks—she’d had, she wasn’t going to have any stomach lining left after the acid chewed it all away.
“He’s a local criminal,” Molly answered.
At first, Norah was a little surprised her sister admitted to knowing him, but then she realized Zach’s name would be in their car-theft report as the main suspect.
“He burglarized our place a few weeks ago,” Molly continued.
“Why is he out already then? Is he one of your bail jumpers?” The way Mill phrased the question made it seem like the Pax sisters collected skips, like adopted cats, rather than returning them to jail.
“Insufficient evidence,” Molly said. It sounded like she was clenching her teeth around the words. “The investigators seemed to be more interested in our mom’s crime than in the one committed against us.”
“What does he want at your neighbor’s place?” Mill asked, sounding less aggravated and more thoughtful.
Molly shrugged, and Norah was impressed by how well her sister pulled off casually clueless. “How should I know? As you could probably tell, we’re not on warm and fuzzy terms with Mr. P.”
“Did you see what happened?”
“Not until we heard the siren, then we saw you and the other cop arrive.” The corner of Molly’s mouth tucked in, and Norah recognized that tell. Her sister was trying to hold back a smile. “We looked out the window in time to see the wrestling match.”
Mill’s molars clamped together with an audible clack . He waved toward Dash’s SUV sitting at the curb, the tenseness of the gesture revealing his irritation. “Whose vehicle is that?”
Crossing her arms across her chest in a Charlie-like move, Molly demanded, “What business of that is yours?”
Rather than look offended, Mill got that focused gleam in his eye as if he thought he’d cornered them. “I’m investigating a crime. It’s parked on my crime scene.”
“It belongs to my boyfriend,” Norah blurted out, worried that stonewalling Mill would just make him more likely to run the plates. If he saw Dash’s name on the registration, then their whole story would collapse.
Mill’s eyebrows leapt to his forehead. “ You have a boyfriend? Since when?”
“Her private life doesn’t have anything to do with your crime scene,” Molly said, her voice as cold as frost.
“Where is he?” Mill didn’t seem put off by Molly’s ice-cold warning tone. “Maybe he saw something next door.”
“He’s not here.” Norah’s brain spun as she tried to keep her expression relaxed. This was why she didn’t usually do fieldwork. She was so bad at improv. “I had some errands to do, so he’s letting me use his SUV while he’s at work.”
“What’s his name?”
“That’s none—” Molly started, but Norah cut her off.
“Davies.” The name of Dash’s employee burst out of her. He was the first guy she could think of who wasn’t a felon or a skip. At least she didn’t think he was a skip.
“That his last name?” At her uncertain nod, he asked, “What’s his first name?”
“He goes by…” She only paused for a microsecond, but it felt like a yawning pit of silence to her. “Bruiser.” The name came out in a rush of relief, quickly followed by the realization that no one named Bruiser Davies existed. “That’s his nickname.”
“Bruiser?” Mill repeated the name like it tasted bad.
“Yes.” Norah set her jaw, even as she ignored her sisters’ eyes. Knowing them, they were fighting laughter. She held Mill’s skeptical gaze instead. “He’s an MMA fighter. So he…you know, bruises people. Just in fights though,” she hurried to add. “None of it is illegal bruising. It’s all…um…consensual.” She fought the surge of heat that wanted to surge up her neck into her cheeks.
“MMA fighter, huh?” From Mill’s tone, he didn’t believe a word of it. “Where’s he working?”
“Porter Sports.” There was no way she could think of a different gym name on the spot. Thinking up “Bruiser” while Mill glared at her had already melted her brain.
Immediately, his brows bunched together. “Porter Sports? As in Dashiell Porter?”
“Yes, that’s Bruiser’s boss?” Her voice rose, turning her statement into a question, but she couldn’t help it. It was a wonder she was still able to make words at this point.
“Isn’t that a coincidence,” Mill muttered, scratching his cheek as he continued to study her.
She tried her best to look innocent and not like she’d just beaten up a guy who’d jumped out of a closet at her.
“You’re a member there?”
“Yes.” She waited a beat, but the detective seemed to expect something more. “That’s how I met Bruiser.” Saying his name was getting more comfortable, as if she was settling into her imaginary relationship with Bruiser Davies.
“How well do you know Porter?”
Her heartbeat sped up again. “Uh…not well?” She knew that didn’t sound convincing at all, so she tried again. “He’s very…gruff. And intimidating.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He was indeed gruff, and although she didn’t find him intimidating, she knew others did—including Mill, if the way he tightened his lips as he gave the faintest of nods was any indication.
“You expect me to believe that it’s just a coincidence that Porter—who you’re already acquainted with—was in your neighborhood at exactly the right time to stop a burglary?”
Molly cleared her throat, and Norah could tell her sister was swallowing the last bits of laughter at the whole “Bruiser” thing. When she spoke, her voice was impressively grave. “This is Langston, Detective, not Denver. Everyone pretty much knows everyone here.”
“Unless…” Cara didn’t do as good of a job as Molly in hiding her amusement. “Maybe Dashiell Porter has a thing for you, Norah. Could he be running by our house, hoping to catch a glimpse?”
“Oh no.” Norah shot a glare at her smirking sister. “We barely know each other. Besides, I’m dating Bruiser .”
“Still, he sees you at the gym. Maybe he has a crush.” Cara was barely holding back her laughter, and even Molly was obviously trying not to grin. “And the fact that you’re dating his employee… Well, some guys want what they can’t have.”
“I’m sure Mr. Porter wouldn’t do that to Bruiser.”
“Let’s stay on track here,” Mills interjected before Cara could poke at Norah any more.
“Of course, Detective.” Molly smiled in a way that clearly said she was out of patience. “Do you have any other relevant questions for us? As much as I’d enjoy sharing conspiracy theories with you all afternoon, we have work to do.”
Mill glared at them each in turn but eventually shook his head. “Not right now, but I’m sure I’ll be back here again soon. You girls just can’t seem to stay out of trouble.” Before any of them could respond, he turned and stalked toward his car.
It was probably good he left, Norah figured, before Molly could punch him in the face. She had a wicked right hook, and their family didn’t need Molly in jail for assaulting an officer on top of everything else.
They waited on the porch as the detective did a three-point turn and then drove away, none of them moving until he turned left at the first cross street and his car disappeared. Norah glanced at Mr. Petra’s house, but it looked like he’d gone inside.
“Call your boy,” Molly ordered in a quiet voice, opening their front door. Norah was already pulling out her cell phone. “Let him know the cover story, and ask him where he is. We’ll pick up his keys and take his SUV to him.”
They moved inside, Warrant greeting them as if they’d been gone for days. Norah held her phone to her ear, her stomach dropping when she heard Dash’s gruff greeting. She knew she had to tell him about her new fake boyfriend, but it was going to be excruciatingly embarrassing.
Bracing herself, she forced words out of her mouth. “If Mill asks, I’m dating your employee, Bruiser Davies.”
To his credit, there was barely a pause before he responded. “Davies’s name isn’t Bruiser. It’s Leon.”
“Well, I didn’t know that.” Realizing that she was getting snappy with the wrong person, she closed her eyes and took a calming breath. It didn’t do much to help her nerves. “Besides, Bruiser is his nickname.”
“Bruiser is not his nickname.”
“It is if Mill asks.”
This time, the pause was a hair longer. “Fine. Why are you dating Davies?” His voice had a bit of a growl to it that made Norah shiver, but not in a scared way.
“I’m not. I just had to explain why Bruiser’s vehicle was parked outside our house.”
His grunt didn’t sound happy. “So Davies gets you and my car?”
“Well, it can’t be your car, since that would’ve blown your story.”
“True.”
His admission sounded resigned although still a bit grumpy, so she continued her explanation as Molly waved her into the kitchen and then nudged her through the door into the garage. “I figured since Davies is your employee, that would explain why the SUV is registered to you if Mill runs the plates.”
“So Davies gets you and the car, but I have to pay for it?” There was a hint of humor in his voice now, although his words were still grumbly.
“It’s kind of a stretch,” Molly joined in the conversation even though she could only hear Norah’s half. “Mill was already suspicious, and he hadn’t even run the plates yet.”
“Hopefully he stormed off before he could get the plate number.” Even as she said it, Norah knew it wasn’t very likely.
“Doubt it,” Molly and Dash chorused.
Despite everything horrible that was happening, Norah had to smile at how Dash seemed to be fitting seamlessly into her family.
“Where are we going?” Molly asked as she backed out of the driveway.
“Sorry,” Norah said with a grimace. “I haven’t asked yet. We were still talking about me dating Bruiser.”
“Stop saying that.” Dash had passed grumpy and was now sounding positively surly.
Norah wanted to explain that the more they discussed it, the more natural Dash’s answers to the detective’s questions would be, but their car was now idling in the middle of the street as Molly stared at her expectantly. Besides, she was pretty sure Dash understood the importance of supporting her cover story. He just didn’t care for her fake dating Bruiser for some reason. “Where are you?”
“Bubbles Diner on Rock Street.”
At the name of the restaurant, Norah’s stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since her quick breakfast. “Bubbles,” she told Molly.
“Yum. I love their burgers.” Apparently, her sister was hungry too. “Let’s eat there after we get Dash’s car.”
“Bruiser’s car,” Norah corrected, drawing a laugh from Molly and a growl from Dash. “Did you eat already?”
“Twice, but I’ll stay while you eat.”
His words made her stomach warm. “Okay. We’re going to get your SUV first so Mr. P doesn’t see you driving off in it.” She was tempted to mention Bruiser again but decided she’d teased him enough. It was just funny how unexpectedly annoyed he was by her imaginary dating situation.
He just grunted, but it sounded more like agreement this time and less like his grumpy inner badger was speaking for him.
“We’re turning onto Rock Street now. See you in a minute.” At his sound of acknowledgment, she moved to end the call but then hesitated. “Dash?”
“Yeah?” He must’ve heard something in her tentative tone, because he responded with an actual word.
“Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
Two words! Ending the call, she rested the hand holding her phone against her thigh, looking out the side window so Molly couldn’t see her smiling.
“You’re so gone on this guy.” Molly practically sang the words, and Norah had to laugh. Of course her sister already knew.