So Mace had been here again last night.
Jeez. What an asshole. Bringing flowers, like that. He probably stayed the night.
A thought occurred.
If he was here overnight, did he hear me come in this morning?
Count on it.
Mace is a cop. A real pro. And they say cops on a case never sleep. Right?
And from what Mattie said, Mace was pretty much joined at the hip to his job.
Maybe he heard me come in this morning and decided not to tell Mom. Like he’s saving the news to blackmail me later…
I should tell Mom about Warren.
Before Mace does…
She’d be real worried, knowing about my midnight trysts.
She’d worry herself sick…
God. That’s the last thing she needs, what with Nelson still on the loose and everything.
After I’d promised I wouldn’t leave the house, wander off without her knowing.
I’ll have to tell her about Warren.
Before Mace gets there first.
She’d never forgive me if that happened.
Her mind in a turmoil, Deana returned to the kitchen.
Leigh was still lingering over the flowers.
Deana cleared her throat.
“Mom. I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it…”
“Oh? What is it, honey?”
Mom looks so radiant. So happy.
I can’t spoil it for her.
“Mom,” she began. Hating herself. Knowing she was about to chicken out of telling the truth. “I’m really happy for you. If this is what you want, I hope it works out for you and Mace.”
Christ.
I’m such a liar.
A deceitful, scheming bitch lying her way out of a seriously tricky situation.
I could say I met Warren accidentally. That might take her mind off Mace for a while.
She pictured what would happen when she told Mom about Warren.
“And where did you meet him, honey? We both agreed you should stay in the house, not go out unless I was with you… Yes, I know it’s hard, Deana… Oh. You met him when you were out running…”
A pregnant pause.
Then: “AT NIGHT???”
Yeah.
Can you just imagine it?
Finito. No more midnight runs.
Door key confiscated.
Chained to the bed—till Mace nails Nelson…
Yeah. Great.
Like sometime, never—that’s when Mace’ll nail Nelson. Just so he can hang around Mom some more. If Nelson’s still around to nail, that is.
“Mom. Was Mace here last night?”
“I told you he was, dear.”
“Yeah, I know he visited last night, Mom. Like late. But when did he leave? Did he spend the night here?”
Leigh blushed.
Deana cringed. She hated embarrassing her mom like this.
“Okay, Deana. Yes. He called me after you’d gone to bed. And we talked…
“In the end, as we had so much to discuss, I asked him to come on over.”
“Mom!”
Her hunch was right, then.
Mace had been in the house when she came back from seeing Warren.
Could be they were both awake when I arrived home.
In the early hours.
Two twenty-five, to be precise.
Christ!
So Mace could’ve heard me come in!
But Mom hadn’t?
If she had, she’d have asked me about it first thing this morning.
“Where did he get the flowers from?” Deana demanded, borrowing time, not quite knowing what to say next. “That time of night?”
“Woke up old Fess Winters, the florist on Main Street. Told him he wanted the biggest bunch of the most expensive flowers he’d got. And here they are. Mace is so romantic, isn’t he?”
Yeah. A pretty impulsive guy.
Bet Old Man Winters thought so, too.
Nice going, Mace.
No wonder Mom looks so dreamy, so starry-eyed this morning.
Orchids for the lady.
I think I’m gonna throw up.
THIRTY
When Leigh left for the restaurant, Deana leafed through the telephone directory for Warren’s home number.
She came up with zilch. Ditto the Eureka Bookstore.
Should have asked him for his card.
Would’ve made things a whole lot easier.
Well, I didn’t, did I?
Good thing, too.
I can see it now…
Phone up this guy you hardly know, tell him the detective from Mill Valley PD stayed with Mom last night. Remember, the one I told you about? Yeah, that one.
And he’d say, “Okay? So what business is this of mine? Moms have a right to private lives, too, y’know.”
Deana replaced the phone book in its alcove.
Wandering aimlessly into the living room, she stared through the glass wall at the panorama below.
The day spread out before her like an empty, rainwashed sky.
What shall I do?
Read a book?
What book?
How about I ring Eureka and order, say, Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard.
The mad adventures of small-time Miami loan shark Chili Palmer, Miss… er, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?
Yes. That’s the one. Please express it over to me.
Oh, and thanks for your trouble, Mr. Hastings.
Or maybe she should watch daytime TV?
Yawn.
A video?
There’s always Reservoir Dogs.
She’d seen it before. Twice.
Good film, but boring old diamond heists and Harvey Keitel weren’t exactly what she was looking for right now.
What about…
She rushed to the hallway. Grabbed the phone book and looked up “Hastings.”
Dummy!
Warren was new to Del Mar a couple of days ago, so his name wouldn’t be listed yet.
Three blocks away. That would probably make it in the three hundred and sixties…
And under the name of the last occupant.
She’d never work it out that way.
Shit.
Maybe she had enough to occupy her mind, thinking about Mace calling Mom, telling her I was out last night…
Leigh, darling. Did you know your daughter was out there on Del Mar, seeing some guy?
He’d just love that…
As she went to her bedroom, Deana pictured Warren’s kitchen. Cozy. Friendly. Smelling of pot roast…
And Sabre, harboring dark thoughts beneath the kitchen sink.
Some dog, that.
Dangerous.
At least he rescued my cap for me.
Cap.
She’d tossed it, and her black sweats, into the hamper. They sure could do with a wash, after all that excitement.
Probably stink like hell.
“That’s what I’ll do while Mom’s out,” she decided. “Wash my black things. Get them dried and put away before she sees them.”
Deana opened the hamper. Dragged out her sweats.
Her knitted cap fell to the floor.
So did Warren’s card.
Showing his business address and a scribbled phone number on the reverse.
His home number!
“Eureka!”
Must have put it inside her cap before he handed it to her. When he scrabbled about in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.
Smart guy.
Now what?