Chapter 10
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Noah, highly amused, strolled around the car, noting that the silver tape did nothing to detract from the aesthetics of the rusty wreck. In fact, it may have added value. It covered up some of the holes in the frame.
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” She nudged the front bumper with her toe. The metal held. “Those bastards at Cheap Rentals will not rip me off now.”
She flashed a smug smile and got back in the car.
When they were once again on the road, she laid out what she knew about Gerald’s life. Noah anticipated a seedy story. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Once upon a time there was a boss named Gerald. Everyone hated him because he was a big creep. One day he wanted his cheerleaders to wear stripper outfits on the sidelines. The cheerleader captain was so mad that she had too many drinks and threatened to chop him up and throw him in Lake Michigan.”
She took a deep breath and continued.
“The next day, she found him dead. Before she could summon the police, they broke into the room and found her hunched over the body. Now she’s their best and only suspect.”
“I thought it was Lake Huron,” he said. She turned to him. “I heard his watery grave was Lake Huron.”
“Does it really matter?”
He was teasing her. He hated to see her so tense. “I just want to get the facts straight.”
She blew a curl out of her eye and tightened her jaw. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re on my side or are just here to harass me into a mental break.”
Harper looked damn cute when she wanted to harm him.
“A little of both,” he admitted. “I like you annoyed. It keeps you from whining.”
Death rays. “I really don’t like you.”
“That’s okay. I like me enough for the both of us.” What he really wanted was to see all that curly hair down and spilling over her naked breasts…and his bare chest. He was a horny mutt when it came to her. Teen Noah hadn’t completely grown up.
“That’s some ego,” she said. “I bet you have trouble finding hats that fit.”
“Buy knit. It stretches.”
Before they got way off track, he steered back around to the case. “Who called the police?”
“That’s a mystery,” she said. “The killer?”
“We’ll have to follow that up.” He took out the small notebook and pencil from his shirt pocket. “The hotel should have a record of all in and out-going calls.”
That seemed to lighten her mood. She was no longer strangling the steering wheel.
He moved on. “Okay. Now that we’ve caught up with the murder, why don’t you list some other suspects? Was there anyone with the Muskrats who hated Gerald more than you?”
Appearing to organize a list in her head, she took entirely too long to answer. She wasn’t kidding about him having many enemies. This could take forever.
“How about you start with the top five?” Although the court system was known to slog along at a snail’s pace, she’d be in prison granny panties before they found the guilty party. “Who had reason to hate him most?”
Harvey, the wreck, shook with a gust of wind. Thankfully, nothing fell off.
“Well, since the spouse is the first suspect when the husband is murdered, we should check out Betty Anne.”
Noah noted her name. “Good. Next?”
“Then there’s Sharla, Gerald’s mistress. She does hair down at the Clip and Perm. They started seeing each other sometime last year. She refused to allow him to continue to comb over his last six hairs, and took the clippers to his head. He liked her feistiness.”
“Did she know he was married?”
“Yup. And he looked like a giant bull dog, jowls and all.” She shuddered. “There’s no accounting for taste.”
Noah noted the name and business. “Next.”
“You can put his assistant, Kimmie, on the list, although she’s about five feet tall and ninety pounds soaking wet. It’s unlikely that she stuck a knife in his chest. But you never know. He treated her like crap.”
“Does Kimmie have a last name?”
She frowned. “Huh. I’ve never heard her called anything but Kimmie or ‘Hey, you.’ I told you Gerald was not nice.”
Noah said, “It appears that the decedent was a misogynist ass. He didn’t know how to treat women.”
“The understatement of the year.” She pulled off the expressway. “He settled six sexual harassment cases these last five years alone. Willard kept him on because they were matching lecherous bookends. They’d stand off to the side when we were practicing and leer. It was gross.”
She filled him in on her friend Taryn’s multi-million dollar settlement against Willard Covington, Gerald’s uncle and the owner of The Lansing Mighty Muskrats. By the time she finished the story, he wanted to kill Gerald, too.
“What a mess,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. This case wouldn’t be easy to solve.
Harper nodded. “And it wasn’t all women. He fired old Jack, the equipment manager, last spring because the team was accused of pulling a deflate-gate and needed someone to blame. Everyone suspected that if someone was deflating balls it was either Gerald or Willard.”
“What’s Jack’s last name?”
“Garvey.” Her eyes clouded. “He was such a sweet guy.”
After adding Garvey to the list of suspects, he looked up the Clip and Perm on his phone and asked for Sharla. The woman said she was out. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Her boyfriend died,” the woman said in a bored voice. “She won’t be back until after the funeral tomorrow.”
Noah thanked her and hung up. “No Sharla. And Gerald is getting buried tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Harper pulled into a restaurant parking lot. “I thought he’d lie in state for at least a week while dignitaries and kings walked past his coffin and kissed his gold ring. Willard would want a production with lots of fanfare for his favorite nephew.”
They exited the car. “I think they only do that for former presidents and foreign dictators,” he said. “Well, not the ring kissing part.”
“I think Gerald was born in Canada if that counts.”
“I’m not sure that it does.” Noah followed her into the building. The smell of bacon and maple syrup hit him in the face. His stomach twitched happily as they passed a brunch buffet set-up filled with home cooked southern fare to harden the arteries.
“I’m in love.” Noah led her to a table and ordered coffee and the brunch bar from the waitress. Harper chose the same, except no coffee. They headed for the food. “I rarely get to indulge my southern roots.”
She grabbed a plate. “Your family was from southeast Michigan. I don’t think that counts.”
“Not true.” He shoveled biscuits and gravy onto his plate. He added anything else that looked promising. “My grandmother was originally from Georgia. That makes me one quarter southern.”
“Uh-huh.”
They ate and planned to see Old Jack. “Since the widow is likely camped out at the funeral home, and Sharla’s missing, we’ll start small,” he said and forked a pile of hash into his mouth. “Damn this is good.”
* * * *
Harper watched him eat and wondered where he put all the food. Probably in his six pack. Then she remembered how he used to eat, like an entire pack of wolves on a deer carcass. By the time he finished, only bones would be left on the plate.
He used to say that chasing girls was better than running cross country to keep fit. Harper didn’t argue, though she suspected that carrying around car parts at the garage was the real reason he looked so good.
Clearly, nothing had changed to the negative about Noah since high school. His muscles were bigger and his thighs were more defined. Oh, his personality needed work. She’d consider that his one flaw.
Not that she cared. He belonged to someone else now.
Harper called Kimmie for Old Jack’s address and they reclaimed Harvey. A pair of men loitering in the parking lot snickered as they climbed into the rent-a-wreck.
Noah frowned. “How long do you plan to make me ride in this ball-shrinker? It’s damaging my street cred.”
“Since when do you have street cred?” she scoffed. “You grew up in a small town without its own McDonald’s. We barely had streets much less roving gangs of troublemakers.”
“That isn’t the point and you didn’t answer the question.”
“We’re driving Harvey until the case is over or until my car is fixed,
whichever comes first.” She waved to the men as they pulled out. “Since I have no money for repairs, it could be awhile. Weeks maybe.”
“Great.” He snapped his seatbelt. “I should be fully emasculated by Monday.”