Hot Stuff

  “But what about Lily?” Sharon wanted to know. “Did she meet the beaks-and-butts guy?”

  “Nope. Lily never did meet him. He just disappeared one day. And Lily married cousin Butch.”

  “Lily married her cousin?” Sharon asked.

  “Well he wasn’t her first cousin. And their kids turned out pretty normal, except for the youngest with the real bad crossed eyes.”

  “Go to the office and try to sell a house,” Cate said to Sharon. “Julie and I will try to think of a way for you to meet 2B.”

  Sharon was holding four packs of cigarettes. “Are you sure the smoke is a bad idea?”

  “Yes,” Cate said. “Bad idea. Selling a house is a good idea.”

  Cate and Julie locked arms with Sharon and walked her into the elevator. Cate pushed the lobby button, and when the doors opened Cate and Julie walked Sharon out of the building.

  “Go!” Cate said. “Be a realtor.”

  “If you want I could take a couple of your cakes and give them to the old folks on the trolley tonight,” Julie said to Cate.

  Cate was always caught by surprise when she entered Julie’s apartment. She knew ahead of time what to expect, but the reality of the bare apartment was always shocking.

  “I can see you’re surprised,” Julie said, carrying two cakes into the kitchen. “I guess you noticed right away that I got a new piece of furniture.”

  The new addition was a fold-up chaise longue with aluminum tubing and plastic webbing. It had taken the lawn chair’s place in front of the television, and the lawn chair was now permanently in front of the window.

  Cate followed Julie with more cakes. “You mean the chaise longue?”

  “Yeah. We were going down the street in the trolley, and there it was, sitting out next to a Dumpster. So Fred stopped the trolley, and we folded the little devil up, and I took it home. It’s real comfy. I can even recline when I watch television if I want.”

  Cate set her cakes on the counter next to Julie’s. “It’s nice of you to take these cakes. I hate to see them without a home.”

  “Sorry everything’s such a mess,” Julie said. “I got papers everywhere. I’m not much of an organizer.”

  Cate looked at the assortment of pads and loose pages on the counter. They were all filled with writing. “What is this?” Cate asked. “This looks like your handwriting.”

  “It’s my observations. It’s what I do all day until trolley time. And sometimes I come home and write at night, except it’s hard on account of I only have one lamp.”

  Cate read one of the loose pages. It was about Julie going out on a date and coming home with her panties in her pocket and having them fall out when she was crossing Newbury Street. An elderly man had stopped traffic and retrieved Julie’s panties, and as luck would have it, the party trolley had been first in line for the spectacle. Everyone on the trolley applauded, Julie took a bow and thanked the man who rescued her panties. The next day Julie applied for a job with the trolley and was instantly hired.

  Cate read two more pages and thumbed through one of the pads. “Julie, this is good. It’s funny and heartwarming and real. And it sounds just like you. It’s engaging. You should do something with all these pages. Make a book or something.”

  “I thought of that,” Julie said, “but I don’t know where to begin. I think I’m good at writing things down but no good at putting them together.”

  “I have a lot of free time this week,” Cate said. “I could type these into my computer and print them up for you. Maybe I can help organize.”

  “Wow, that would be so great,” Julie said. “But only now when you have free time. I don’t want to take up any time when you got classes. It’s wonderful that you’re gonna be a teacher.”

  Cate stacked the pads and looked at the loose pages that were scattered everywhere.

  “I have a system,” Julie said, collecting pages. “The crumples are throwaways.”

  Pugg was pacing outside the condo building when Cate flew out the door and hit the ground running, late for work.

  “Pugg’s been worried about you,” Pugg said. “Pugg read about the dead man in the paper this morning. Shocking news. Pugg is dismayed. Pugg thinks he might have sold the man tires. Steel-belted.”

  “Were you out here last night, waiting for me?”

  “No. Pugg had to work late last night. Pugg went to the bar, but you weren’t there.”

  “I had the night off.”

  “Pugg found that out. Pugg went to the condo to see you, but couldn’t get in. Everyone gets in but Pugg. Pugg saw the dead man go in.”

  Cate stopped short and stared at Pugg. “What?”

  “Pugg saw the dead man go into the building. He got buzzed in. Pugg knows this because there was a picture of him in the paper.”

  “Do you know who buzzed him in?”

  “No. Pugg was afraid it might have been you.”

  “It wasn’t me. Was the man alone?”

  “Yes. Pugg saw the man walk down the street. He was definitely alone.”

  “Do you remember the time?”

  “It was seven thirty. Pugg tried to go in with the man, but Pugg was rebuffed. Pugg thinks the man might have remembered that Pugg jacked the price up a tad on the man’s tires.”

  “Do you remember anyone else going into the building?”

  “A very beautiful, very tall woman. Looked a little like a giant Judy Garland. If Pugg hadn’t already promised himself to you, Pugg would have pursued her.”

  “The giant Judy Garland sounds familiar,” Cate said. “And she’s a man.”

  “Pugg is sure you’re mistaken. Pugg came close to growing wood for her. Pugg would be very upset to learn he almost grew wood for a man.”

  “Did the woman arrive before the dead man?”

  “Yes. She came in a town car, and she had one of those gizmos that opens the door.”

  “Did you see her leave?”

  “No. Pugg went home after the dead man said he’d call the police on Pugg if Pugg kept trying to get into the building.”

  Tending bar can be a lot like driving a car, Cate thought. Without even realizing, sometimes you switch to autopilot, and next thing you know, you’re in your garage, and you can’t remember how you got there. Cate was working on autopilot tonight, moving from one end of the bar to the other, filling orders, making conversation, and the whole time she was reviewing facts about Marty. If he was back in town (and Cate was pretty sure he was) where was he staying and what role did he play in Irwin’s death? And what was the deal with the missing knife?

  Cate gave a small squeak of surprise when a hand clamped onto her wrist.

  “Earth to Cate,” Kellen said. “You just gave me a glass of Chardonnay. And it’s got two olives in it.”

  “Wasn’t thinking.” Cate swapped the wine out for beer. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Anything you want to share?”

  Cate told him about her conversation with Pugg.

  “Not a lot of giant Judy Garlands walking around these days,” Kellen said.

  “Assuming Marty has returned, what will you do?”

  “I’ll stick close to you. You’re living in his condo. He came back once. I’m betting he’ll come back again. And he can’t get in without you. You have the new lock.”

  “I thought you had the lock changed for my safety.”

  “That too,” Kellen said.

  “If Marty is a master thief I’m guessing he’s also good with locks.”

  “He’ll have a hard time with this lock. He’ll have to use a computer. And I doubt he has what he’ll need. From what I’ve been able to determine, Marty can open a door, but not a safe. Marty is an opportunist. He looks for a necklace left on the bathroom vanity or a safe left unlocked. It’s one of the reasons he’s survived. He takes things that are available to anyone walking into the room . . . a waitress with the caterer, a guest, a member of the household staff. And Marty’s hits are spread all over the country, s
o no one saw a pattern. No one suspected a professional thief.”

  “Until you.”

  “Almost a year ago I was hired to find a pair of earrings that were stolen from a house in upstate New York. They were taken during a party, and I investigated everyone attending. Marty was one of the names on the list. He performed. My present client had a necklace taken during a charity event, and the first thing that jumped out at me was Marty’s name on the attending list. I was able to get a work history on him for the past two years and discovered there was an unusual number of thefts associated with his appearances.”

  “Can you make enough money stealing the occasional necklace to make the risk worthwhile?”

  “I came up with seventeen thefts in two years. And I probably didn’t find everything. Of those seventeen hits only six were worth less than a hundred thousand dollars. In most cases there were multiple pieces taken, plus cash on hand. Three hits went seven digits. Marty wouldn’t get full value for any of the pieces, but he’d do okay. He’d make more than enough to buy his new Porsche plus the art in his condo.”

  Cate made a bar run, refilling drinks, cashing out customers. She returned to Kellen and swapped out his empty bowl of bar nuts for a fresh one. “Do you know what happens to the jewelry when it leaves Marty’s hands?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t get rid of it locally. I suspect the larger pieces might go out of the country.”

  “Wouldn’t that be complicated? Security checks at airports and whatever.”

  “TSA looks for bombs, not necklaces,” Kellen said. “And the fence probably takes possession in this country but shops the stones, if not the whole piece, in Europe or South America.”

  “I thought I had a safe living arrangement until I finished school and got a job teaching. Now I find out I’m living with a thief. Do you think Marty’s dangerous?”

  “Under ordinary circumstances, no. Under stress, maybe. Marty is supposed to perform here tomorrow night. Do you know if he’s canceled?”

  “I asked Evian,” Cate said. “He hasn’t canceled.”

  “If Marty is performing there’s a real good chance he’ll return to the condo tonight or tomorrow. He’s got clothes and makeup there.”

  “Thinking about it gives me an upset stomach. I’m the world’s worst actress. I’m no good at fibbing. He’s going to know something’s weird. And it’s not like I can avoid speaking to him. His agent died in our stairwell last night. That requires mention. And here’s the worst part . . . I can’t stand the thought of giving up Beast. He sleeps on my bed with me. And he’s cuddly. And he’s a good listener. And I think he likes me.”

  Kellen blew out a sigh. “I wish that was a description of me.”

  “I’m worried Marty’s going to come back, and he’s going to take Beast.” A tear popped out and slid down Cate’s cheek. “Shit,” she said.

  Kellen wiped the tear away with his fingertip. It was official. He was in love with Cate Madigan. He didn’t care what he had to do, but he was going to make things right. And no matter what, Cate wasn’t going to lose her Beast. “We’ll make it all work out.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah. You and me. We’re a team, right?”

  “Maybe,” Cate said. “I’m not sure how much I trust you.”

  “Are we talking about professional ethics or about sex?” Kellen asked.

  “Both.”

  “That’s easy. My business ethics are beyond question. And when it comes to sex, you can’t trust me at all. I want you bad.”

  “Good grief.”

  Chapter

  ELEVEN

  “This is not a good idea,” Cate said.

  “Do you have a better one?” Kellen asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I’m staying. We’ll stop at my place, so I can pick up some clothes, and I’ll move in with you and Beast for a couple days.” It was a little after eleven, and Kellen was holding hands with Cate, gently tugging her past her condo building. “I’m only a couple blocks away.”

  “What will I tell Marty if he comes home?”

  “You’ll tell him you love me more than life itself and can’t bear to be separated from me.”

  “That’s why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

  “I won’t be sleeping on the couch. I’ll be in bed with you, acting like I have self-control.”

  Yes, but what about me? Cate thought. What if I don’t have any self-control?

  Kellen stopped at a brownstone and plugged his key into the door.

  “This is a whole house,” Cate said. “Three floors. On one of the nicest streets in the South End.”

  “I’m good at my job,” Kellen said. “I get paid well for looking, and I get paid even better for finding. This is a little bare. I just closed on it last month, and I haven’t had much time for interior decorating.”

  The front door opened to a small foyer. Living room to the left. Dining room to the right. Stairs with a graceful wood banister led to the second floor. Floors were polished mahogany. Kellen had a large flat-screen television hung over the elaborate fireplace in the living room. An Oriental rug had been placed in front of the fireplace, and a large glass coffee table and comfy leather couch sat on the rug, facing the television. The dining room was unfurnished.

  “I’ll only be a minute,” Kellen said. “Make yourself at home while I go upstairs and throw a few things into a gym bag.”

  Cate prowled through the dining room and into the kitchen. It was twice the size of Marty’s condo kitchen, with new granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. It looked completely untouched. Pristine oven. No splatters on the cooktop. Over the counter, cabinets were empty. No dishes. No glasses. No silverware. She looked in the side-by-side refrigerator. Beer, orange juice, bread, peanut butter. There was a butter knife in the refrigerator alongside the peanut butter.

  Kellen came into the kitchen carrying his gym bag. “It turns out I’m not especially domestic,” he said. “I’d like this place to look like a home with cookies and a coffeemaker and a drawer filled with clean socks, but I don’t know where to begin. I’ve been building my business, living on the road wherever the job took me for so long, I only own one butter knife.”

  “Will you have a chance to spend any amount of time here?”

  “Yes. My business is changing. I’m now able to do all the preliminary investigation by computer and phone from the office upstairs. And I have two investigators who do the legwork. So hopefully my days on the road are a thing of the past. Or at least they’ll be limited.”

  “It’s a really nice house. And it’s a great kitchen.”

  Kellen had a flash of insight regarding his house’s missing ingredient. It wasn’t cookies and a coffeemaker that were going to make this house a home. It was a redheaded woman and a big, sloppy dog.

  Ten minutes later Cate and Kellen were back in front of Marty’s condo building. Pugg was there too, holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose.

  “What happened?” Cate wanted to know.

  “Pugg was at the record store at the end of Newbury Street, and Pugg saw the giant Judy Garland leaving the store. So Pugg followed at a discreet distance. Pugg was curious to see if Judy exhibited any manly traits. Pugg followed Judy for several blocks, and then Judy crossed to Commonwealth. And Pugg still followed. Pugg’s observation to this point was that Judy was a lady in every sense of the word. Her clothes were very tasteful, and she had a very ladylike walk.”

  “Judy Garland?” Kellen asked.

  “Marty,” Cate said.

  Pugg pressed his lips together at the suggestion that Judy’s name might be Marty. “Anyway, Judy stopped at a townhouse and took her key out to open her front door and suddenly this terrible blond woman jumped out of the bushes. She said she knew Judy would show up. And she said she knew Judy hadn’t taken care of business. And Judy was quite startled. Pugg could tell Judy was no match for this blond woman, so Pugg stepped in. ‘Excuse me,’ Pugg said to Judy. ‘Do
you require some assistance?’ And this blond woman told Pugg to butt out and punched Pugg in the nose.”

  “And did you butt out?” Kellen asked.

  “Yes. Pugg was bleeding profusely. And Pugg noticed there were two large men standing in the shadows on the side of the house. Pugg thinks they were with the blond woman.”

  “So you abandoned Judy?” Cate asked.

  “Like a rat on a sinking ship,” Pugg said. “But Pugg called the police on his cell phone. And then Pugg came here to tell you. Your name isn’t on the list of occupants, but Pugg was prepared to buzz everyone until he found you.”

  “Pugg is disturbingly tenacious,” Cate said.

  “Fucking A,” Pugg said.

  Julie’s head popped out of her window. “Hey y’all, what’s goin’ on down there? Are you talkin’ to that adorable, furry little guy?”

  “Would you be referring to Pugg?” Pugg asked.

  “I don’t know,” Julie said. “What’s a Pugg?”

  “I’m a Pugg,” he said.

  “I thought Pugg was a little dawg,” Julie said. “Why have you got that handkerchief to your nose?”

  “Pugg was injured trying to help a lady in distress.”

  “You poor thing,” Julie said. “You come on up here, and I’ll put some ice on it. Just go to the door, and I’ll buzz you in, sweetie.”

  Pugg turned to Cate. “Pugg hopes you’ll understand if he gives you the kiss-off. Pugg thinks he has a chance to score with the window lady.”

  Cate and Kellen followed Pugg to Julie’s apartment.

  “I can’t recommend this guy,” Cate said to Julie. “He’s actually toe fungus.”