Not One Clue_ A Mystery Part 29

"I'll take off, then," he said.

"Not your your friends?" I asked. friends?" I asked.

"Not generally," he said and giving Aalia one more glance, stepped out of the house and into my backyard.

"LAPD," someone yelled, and pounded on my front door.

"Rivera?" I called.

"Open the f.u.c.king door or I'll tear the house down," he snarled.

Yup. That was him.

23.

Yes, the burka I could wear again. But so could I be fried in hot oil like the malawah.-Aalia Orsorio, spreading her wings I locked my back door, then hurried through the house to the front door, where I clicked the dead bolt open and came face-to-face with a Glock. Rivera was behind it, looking grim. locked my back door, then hurried through the house to the front door, where I clicked the dead bolt open and came face-to-face with a Glock. Rivera was behind it, looking grim.

"Where is he?" His gaze seared past me, sweeping the bedroom door, the steps, the living room.

This was a new side of Rivera. I mean, he's generally foreboding, but this was foreboding going on deadly. It was kind of a turn-on.

"He's gone."

"The house is secure?"

I considered a joke, but decided I didn't particularly want to get shot. "Yes."

"And the girl?"

"Aalia?"

He still didn't look at me, but swept his weapon sideways, covering every opening. "Is she here?"

"Yes."

He exhaled, then lowered the gun a couple of inches, which was nice.

"Where'd the f.u.c.ker go?" he asked. Rivera didn't fool around with TV phraseology like "perps" or "bad guys." It almost made me doubt the authenticity of Hollywood.

"North on Opus."

"On foot?"

"Car."

"What make?"

Crimony! Wasn't it enough that I'd saved the girl? "Dark?"

He gave me a peeved look just as Aalia ventured into the living room.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant." She nodded solemnly, cute as a frightened kitten. "I am well and sorry to disrupt your evening."

I raised my brows at her. The woman had almost been abducted by her nut job husband. To my way of thinking the cops should d.a.m.ned well be disrupted.

"Perhaps ..." She glanced at me. "Perhaps I could make the lieutenant some tea?"

Tea? Sure. Maybe she could whip up a little tiramisu, too, while she was at it. "Of course," I said. "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

She hustled away.

"How come you you didn't offer me tea?" Rivera asked. He was still gazing at the spot where she had disappeared into the kitchen, but some of the flat-eyed grimness had left his face. didn't offer me tea?" Rivera asked. He was still gazing at the spot where she had disappeared into the kitchen, but some of the flat-eyed grimness had left his face.

I kept the growl to myself. "Maybe because I was still a little fatigued from saving her a.s.s."

He glanced at me, eyes sparking with humor, and I scowled down my irritation. Everyone was a frickin' comedian.

"What happened?" he asked, and the grin disappeared.

I exhaled noisily, and realized my hands were shaking a little. "When I let Harley out in the backyard I thought I heard something near the garage. I a.s.sumed it was just Bryn making out with her latest and greatest, but then I realized something was wrong."

"So you hustled back into the house where it was safe, right?"

I paused for a moment, then, "Maybe not immediately."

He scowled, but continued without pulling out the cat-o'-nine-tails. "What did did you do immediately?" you do immediately?"

It was hard to decide how much to tell him. Sometimes he gets a little miffed when I do things that some might misconstrue as stupid.

"I had my Mace," I said, remembering that little tidbit with pride.

"Your ..." He swore, then gritted his teeth and held up one hand, as if that little gesture might prevent him from bursting into spontaneous flame. "What else can you tell me about the car besides the fact that it was dark?"

I shook my head, trying to remember, but I don't usually notice cars. Unless it's a Turbo Cabriolet. I'd sell my left b.o.o.b for a Turbo Cabriolet. What do left b.o.o.bs go for these days?

"Was it black?"

I thought about that for a second. "Maybe dark blue."

"Full size? Compact?"

"Kind of medium."

"Older model or new?"

"Holy c.r.a.p, Rivera, I'm a psychologist, not a mechanic."

"Did the b.u.mpers look rounded or was it more boxy?"

"Rounded, I think."

"Was the car running?"

"Yeah. He had a driver."

"Was he armed?"

I squelched a wince. Here's where it got dicey. "The driver or the-"

"d.a.m.n it, McMullen! Did someone ..." He made a circling motion with his hand. "... in this vicinity have a weapon."

I paused, then nodded.

He looked mad enough to eat iron. "What kind?"

"What are my options?"

"Semiautomatic? Cannon? Crossbow?"

"I would have noticed arrows."

He wasn't finding me particularly amusing ... again.

"I think it was a handgun," I said.

I could see a dozen questions boiling up in his eyes, but he skipped over them for a moment as he pulled out his cell phone. Flipping it open, he punched in a number. "What'd you do to your hair?" he asked.

"Nothing special." Actually, I had crushed it under a wig for a few harrowing hours, then loosed it on the world. Apparently, it was now fighting back, because it sprang away from my head as if it were freshly permed.

Someone answered on the other end of the line, but Rivera didn't s.h.i.+ft his Dark Man attention from me.

"This is Lieutenant Rivera. I have an armed Yemeni man heading north on Opus in Sunland. He's driving a dark, newer-model sedan.

"Name?" he asked.

I shook my head, but Aalia appeared in the doorway. "Ahmad," she said. "Ahmad Orsorio."

Rivera s.h.i.+fted his gaze from me to her. "Can you describe him?"

"He is cruel."

Rivera nodded, not mocking.

"How tall is he?" Rivera asked. Apparently, he wasn't one to deal in moods or signs or phases of the moon.

"Perhaps six foots tall by American means," she said.

He ran through a list of questions and she answered dutifully. After a few minutes of relaying that information, he clicked his phone shut. Aalia quietly slipped into the kitchen once again. To me, that portion of the house is simply somewhere to eat junk food while I read trashy novels, and right now there wasn't enough in it to feed a runway model, so she must have other reasons to be there. I wondered vaguely if she had been crying.

Rivera eyed me as he shoved his phone in the front pocket of his blue jeans. I tried not to watch.

"Where were you?" he asked, skimming my copper mermaid form with his hot gaze.

s.h.i.+t. I hadn't exactly thought of lies to cover this part of the conversation yet, but at least I had lost the wig. "I went to a, ummm ... party."

"Dressed like that?"

"It was a theme party."

"And you were the little mermaid?" he asked. "All grown up?"

Hilarious. "Yes," I said.

He gave me his patented almost-smile. "You go with Elaine?" he asked, and I stiffened a little, not wanting to divulge too much ... like the fact that barely a full hour before I had been flirting like a streetwalker with his father. Kill me now Kill me now, I thought, and tried to look confused. Some jobs are harder than others.

"No."

"So you went alone?"

I shrugged, evasive as h.e.l.l. "She was busy with wedding plans or something." I managed to refrain from that nervous throat-clearing thing I sometimes do.

"So the house was empty when you got home."

"Except for Harlequin," I said.

He nodded and rubbed the dog's ears. Harley closed his eyes and looked as if he might swoon with happiness. Which made me think that if worse came to worse in my so-called love life, which, by the by, it had, I'd settle for an ear rub.

"The house was locked?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Security system on?"

"Yes."

He nodded, satisfied. Maybe I'd get an "Atta girl" if I didn't warrant an ear rub, I thought, but he moved on.

"So you let Harley out. What happened after you'd retrieved your Mace?"

"I went out there just to take a look around. I mean, for all I knew it was just Bryn but ..." I shrugged. "It looked like the guy was wearing a turban. So I thought of Aalia. By the time I got to the corner of the garage they were already near the car so I, umm ..." Here's where it got sticky. "I asked him to let her go."