That Touch of Ink by Diane Vallere Page B

had more to do with her nickname than any behavior on her part. Tex was twenty years older than her, but in cop world, that didn’t seem to matter.
    I was the counter opposite of Nasty: blonde-haired, blue-eyed, forty-seven years old. I was a vintage-wearing, sunscreen-addicted Doris Day lookalike. It was the Doris Day lookalike part that put me at the center of a homicide investigation and had almost gotten me killed.
    Tex had called me to the carpet on the emotional walls I’d put in place—ironic, since I was an interior decorator. I didn’t like to admit that he’d gotten through. And despite the fact we’d kissed—a kiss we never acknowledged, but occasionally kept me awake at night—we moved on in separate directions. Tex and Nasty had fallen back into their on-again, off-again relationship.
    I rebuilt my emotional walls faster than a bricklayer on a deadline and moved on with my life. And now, here I was. Sitting next to a playboy police lieutenant while my past reared its ugly head and threatened my way of life. Funny how life throws you the kind of curve ball where hanging out with a homicide detective is a pleasant escape from reality.
    Tex and I stared at each other across my desk. The donut phone jingled its shrill ring that had become all too popular now that people could program it into their iPhones. I made no move to answer it. The machine clicked on after the fourth ring and Brad’s voice filled the room.
    “Hi Maddy. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. I guess this is a lot, me showing up out of the blue. I didn’t want to scare you off last night. I want to hear from you, to make sure you’re okay. I’m still at The Brite House Apartments. I’ll be here if you need me.” He disconnected.
    I focused on a pair of Holt salt and pepper shakers shaped like cats. They sat on either side of my computer screen. The wide, almond-shaped eyes of the cats looked suspicious, like they could read my thoughts.
    “I left the restaurant shortly after you did. Someone followed me. No—not followed me. Someone tried to scare me. At first, I thought it was a drunk driver, so I took a lot of different roads until it was just me and a brown sedan behind me. The driver bumped into the back of my car a couple of times.”
    “Are you okay?”
    “My neck is sore. I’m not sure if it’s from being hit or sleeping on the floor.”
    “Night, that’s not a joke.”
    “I know it’s not a joke, Lieutenant. I was going to call you when I got home, but my neighbor said someone had been in my apartment. I went to leave and saw a car that might have been the one that followed me parked across the street. I left out the back door and walked here.”
    “You should have called me when you got here. I could have sent a car over to look for your friend in the brown sedan.”
    “Once I got here, I was fine. Besides, calling you feels like using a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
    I turned the salt shaker over in my hands while I talked. When Tex wasn’t in lock down police mode, I could read his expressions fairly well. I didn’t need to see I told you so written on his face.
    “Did you go into your apartment?”
    “No. Well, I looked inside. Effie was right. There’s paint on the walls and a torn up carpet.”
    “You didn’t want your apartment painted?”
    “I started painting it yesterday. When Brad showed up, I tipped over the paint can. I didn’t finish the job. Seems like someone is finishing it for me.”
    “What happened next?”
    “I went out front, saw the car parked on a side street. At least it looked like the same car, and the engine was running. I ducked out the back and walked here.”
    “Does anybody know you spent the night here?”
    “Only you and Connie.”
    His eyes dropped to my chest again. “I think you should consider bringing Connie on as your personal assistant. She shows good judgment.”
    The phone rang again. Again, I made no move to answer it. The machine clicked