almost disinterested.
“Vivian,” Wazoo said abruptly, pointing a long forefinger with a red-painted nail. “How is she? This baby is blessed, I feel it.” She closed her eyes, raised her chin and breathed hard through her mouth. “The last little one couldn’t stay, had other places to go. This one has things to do right where he is.”
The expressions that flitted over Spike’s face intrigued Max. The even-tempered, almost flip facade was gone, replaced by a sharper and definitely worried frown. “We don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl,” he said. “Thanks for the kind words, though. Only a few weeks to go now.”
“Now you listen to me,” Wazoo said, settling a hand on top of one of his. “There’s nothin’ to be afraid of this time around. That little one is takin’ all the energy it needs from Vivian. It’s wearin’ her out but like you say, it’ll soon be over. She’s worried now because of losing the last baby, but she doesn’t need to give it a thought.”
Max had seen that Vivian was very pregnant but knew nothing of her history. He would try to find an opportunity to reassure her. He and Spike needed to get rid of Wazoo. With one forefinger, he attempted to rub between the cat’s ears. That got him a view of a mouthful of tiny pointed teeth together with a hiss too big for the cat. He drew his hand back.
“Don’t you take Irene’s hiss serious,” Wazoo said. “I gotta talk Annie into some therapy for this one. She’s sufferin’. She tol’ me she thinks she gonna be pushed out of her mama’s lap—and bed—by some man.”
There were moments when cool disinterest was the best reaction.
Max hooked an elbow over the back of his chair and raised his jaw. He looked detached, he was sure he did.
“Wazoo,” Spike said after a slightly lengthy pause. “Thanks for the good words. Forgive us but this is a business meeting for Max and me.”
Smiling, she popped up. “You know where to find me.”
“You know Annie Duhon?” Spike asked when he and Max were alone, drumming his fingertips on the table. “Yeah, you do.”
Shit. “I know who she is,” Max said. “She runs Pappy’s.”
“Sure she does. How come you look so guilty?”
“You’re off base,” Max told him evenly. Lying didn’t amuse him but he didn’t want Annie’s name linked to his.
“If you say so,” Spike said quietly. “I wish we knew where to find Michele Riley. I’d settle for any clue, any idea. So far we’ve got a search for a missing person, and I kept it in this jurisdiction, used my people. But I can’t cover for this any longer.”
Max looked at him sharply. “I didn’t ask you to cover for anything.”
“No, you didn’t. By tomorrow we’ll be knee-deep in folks asking questions. Is there anythin’ you’d like to share with me? Any incidents from the past?”
The man only asked the question to be polite. Max could tell he’d done some homework. It wasn’t so hard to get at the record of Max Savage’s career with the law. And innocent verdicts bore less weight if the same types of crimes followed you around.
“Have you searched the Majestic for leads?”
Spike took several spoonfuls of his gumbo before he responded. “There are prints on her own possessions—all the same. So what? They’re probably hers. She couldn’t use ’em without touching ’em. We didn’t find any sign of a struggle or that her things had been messed with.” He played with his coffee spoon, tapped it against his mug. “Same prints were on the front door and the handle. Both areas had been cleaned.”
“When?” Max asked, shifting forward on his chair. “When did they clean the door?”
“Last night. Doll said she likes to brighten up the entrance and the reception area right before she goes to bed, just in case there’s a real late arrival. The Hibbses turn in around eleven.”
“Before I dropped Michele off,” Max said, almost under his breath. “So if someone who didn’t
“Vivian,” Wazoo said abruptly, pointing a long forefinger with a red-painted nail. “How is she? This baby is blessed, I feel it.” She closed her eyes, raised her chin and breathed hard through her mouth. “The last little one couldn’t stay, had other places to go. This one has things to do right where he is.”
The expressions that flitted over Spike’s face intrigued Max. The even-tempered, almost flip facade was gone, replaced by a sharper and definitely worried frown. “We don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl,” he said. “Thanks for the kind words, though. Only a few weeks to go now.”
“Now you listen to me,” Wazoo said, settling a hand on top of one of his. “There’s nothin’ to be afraid of this time around. That little one is takin’ all the energy it needs from Vivian. It’s wearin’ her out but like you say, it’ll soon be over. She’s worried now because of losing the last baby, but she doesn’t need to give it a thought.”
Max had seen that Vivian was very pregnant but knew nothing of her history. He would try to find an opportunity to reassure her. He and Spike needed to get rid of Wazoo. With one forefinger, he attempted to rub between the cat’s ears. That got him a view of a mouthful of tiny pointed teeth together with a hiss too big for the cat. He drew his hand back.
“Don’t you take Irene’s hiss serious,” Wazoo said. “I gotta talk Annie into some therapy for this one. She’s sufferin’. She tol’ me she thinks she gonna be pushed out of her mama’s lap—and bed—by some man.”
There were moments when cool disinterest was the best reaction.
Max hooked an elbow over the back of his chair and raised his jaw. He looked detached, he was sure he did.
“Wazoo,” Spike said after a slightly lengthy pause. “Thanks for the good words. Forgive us but this is a business meeting for Max and me.”
Smiling, she popped up. “You know where to find me.”
“You know Annie Duhon?” Spike asked when he and Max were alone, drumming his fingertips on the table. “Yeah, you do.”
Shit. “I know who she is,” Max said. “She runs Pappy’s.”
“Sure she does. How come you look so guilty?”
“You’re off base,” Max told him evenly. Lying didn’t amuse him but he didn’t want Annie’s name linked to his.
“If you say so,” Spike said quietly. “I wish we knew where to find Michele Riley. I’d settle for any clue, any idea. So far we’ve got a search for a missing person, and I kept it in this jurisdiction, used my people. But I can’t cover for this any longer.”
Max looked at him sharply. “I didn’t ask you to cover for anything.”
“No, you didn’t. By tomorrow we’ll be knee-deep in folks asking questions. Is there anythin’ you’d like to share with me? Any incidents from the past?”
The man only asked the question to be polite. Max could tell he’d done some homework. It wasn’t so hard to get at the record of Max Savage’s career with the law. And innocent verdicts bore less weight if the same types of crimes followed you around.
“Have you searched the Majestic for leads?”
Spike took several spoonfuls of his gumbo before he responded. “There are prints on her own possessions—all the same. So what? They’re probably hers. She couldn’t use ’em without touching ’em. We didn’t find any sign of a struggle or that her things had been messed with.” He played with his coffee spoon, tapped it against his mug. “Same prints were on the front door and the handle. Both areas had been cleaned.”
“When?” Max asked, shifting forward on his chair. “When did they clean the door?”
“Last night. Doll said she likes to brighten up the entrance and the reception area right before she goes to bed, just in case there’s a real late arrival. The Hibbses turn in around eleven.”
“Before I dropped Michele off,” Max said, almost under his breath. “So if someone who didn’t
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