Zeke tightened his arms around her. “No way, lady. We’re going to have a million nights just like this one. That’s a promise.”
He kissed her forehead, released her, and backed away. “Go!” he called softly. “I want to see you safely inside.”
She hurried up the steps. After opening the door, she turned to give him one last look, her heart shining in her eyes. With a saucy smile, she said, “Be sure to look in that drugstore sack before you throw it away.”
“What’s in there besides condoms?”
She giggled. “That’s a question.”
A feeling of warmth moved through Zeke. “You gave me one of your songs? I thought you had forgotten.”
“When it comes to my music, I have a mind like a steel trap.”
He smiled. “I can’t wait to look it over.”
“If you don’t like it,” she qualified, “it’s no big deal. I’m not sensitive.”
“Oh, I’ll like it,” he assured her.
She ran her gaze slowly over him. “Later, cowboy. I’m not finished with you yet.”
Zeke was banking on it.
Chapter Eleven
The following morning, a frantic pounding on Natalie’s bedroom door interrupted her sleep. She jerked erect, blinked bewilderedly, and came instantly awake, thinking that something was wrong with one of the kids. “Come in!”
The portal opened. Her kimono hanging crooked from her shoulders, the sash barely knotted, Valerie stood in the doorway. “The cops,” she croaked, her eyes as round as nickels. “They’re at the front door, asking for you.”
“Who?”
“The cops. Holy Moses, Nattie, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Natalie grabbed her robe and finger combed her hair as she hurried downstairs with Valerie at her heels. “Don’t be silly.”
“They look grim,” Valerie whispered. “Something’s really wrong.”
When Natalie entered the living room, she saw two police officers framed in the open doorway. Valerie had called it right. They stood on the front porch like navy bookends, not returning her smile as she moved toward them. She straightened her shoulders, trying to look innocent, which struck her as being the greatest absurdity of all. She hadn’t done anything. Right? Then a horrible thought hit her. If Robert had noticed the missing goblets, he would know who took them. What if he had pressed charges against her?
“Good morning, Officers. My sister says you want to speak to me?”
One policeman flashed his credentials. “Are you Natalie Patterson?”
“Yes.”
“Formerly Mrs. Robert Patterson?”
“Yes.” Natalie didn’t like the way the two men looked at her—as if she’d committed a heinous crime. “Did I forget to pay a parking ticket or something?”
“Something far more serious than that, I’m afraid,” the tall, thin officer said. “Brace yourself for sad news. Mr. Patterson was found dead in his garage at around midnight. Can you get dressed and come down to the station with us for a while? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
All the blood rushed from Natalie’s head, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. She heard Valerie bleat in horror behind her.
“What?” Her body going watery with shock, Natalie held up a hand. “Would you—” She gulped and grabbed for breath. “What did you say?”
“Mr. Patterson was found dead in his garage last night,” the younger, stockier policeman repeated.
“Oh, my God,” Natalie whispered. “Oh, my God.” She turned to see Chad standing behind Valerie in the archway. The boy had turned as white as milk.
“Mom?” Chad said, his voice quivering.
Natalie sent a smoldering look at the policemen. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes. My son needs me.”
“Mom?” Chad said again. “Dad’s dead? How can he be dead?”
Natalie ran to catch her son in her arms. Over the top of his head, she met Valerie’s gaze. “Call Mom. Tell her I need her to come as quickly as she can.” As Valerie wheeled to run to the phone, Natalie began rocking her sobbing child. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. You’re okay.”
From that moment forward, Natalie felt trapped in a fog. Nothing seemed real. She couldn’t make her brain function properly. This couldn’t be happening.
Zeke had just poured a second cup of coffee when his phone jangled. He caught it on the third ring. A hysterical female voice came over the line. For a moment, he thought it was Natalie. Then he determined that it was her sister.
“Valerie, slow down. I can’t make heads or tails of anything you’re saying.”
Valerie’s breath hitched and spewed wetly into the receiver, nearly blasting out his eardrum. “Robert—is—dead. Is that slow enough for you? The cops are here, and they’re taking Nattie away.”
“What?”
“I think someone murdered the son of a bitch,” Valerie whispered. “Oh, God, someone killed him, sure as shit, and they think Natalie did it.”
Zeke slapped down the phone and left the house at a dead run. Moments later when he reached the Westfield yard, he saw that there was indeed a cop car parked in the drive. He circled around to let himself in the kitchen door.
“Not without a lawyer, she ain’t answerin’ no questions,” Gramps was yelling. “You hear me, Nattie? Don’t you say a word until you got an attorney present.”
“Mr. Westfield,” an unfamiliar male voice said calmly, “there’s no need for Mrs. Patterson to have an attorney present. We only want to ask her some questions.”
“That’s what they always say!” Gramps cried. “Then they slap ya with charges, Nattie. Keep yer lips zipped.”
Zeke followed the voices to the living room. Natalie stood just beyond the archway, holding Chad tightly against her. Her tousled black hair fell in a rippling veil over one of the boy’s shoulders. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes huge and dazed. If she saw Zeke, she gave no sign of it.
Valerie immediately came to him. When Zeke noticed how badly she was shaking, he curled a steadying arm around her waist. Valerie grabbed his other hand and dug in hard with her fingernails.
“Robert’s really dead,” she whispered. “They won’t tell us anything. But it doesn’t look good.”
Zeke agreed. And Gramps was only making things worse. He released Valerie to enter the living room. With a pointed look at Pete, he grasped Natalie’s grandfather by a frail elbow. “There’s no need to get all upset, Charlie,” Zeke cajoled. “Come in the kitchen. We’ll have a cup of coffee. How does that sound?”
Rosie came bouncing down the stairs just then. The child came to a dead stop when she saw the two policemen. She turned questioning brown eyes on her mother. Zeke handed Gramps off to Pete and reached over the banister to pluck the little girl off her feet.
“Hi, gorgeous!” he said as he settled the child on his hip and followed the two older men to the kitchen. To drown out Gramps, who was making dire predictions about Natalie’s fate if she didn’t get a lawyer, Zeke spoke in a booming voice. “How’s my favorite girl this morning?”
“I’m fine.” Rosie looked back over his shoulder. “Why are those cops here?”
The child was too smart for her own good. “I think they want to talk to your mom for a little bit,” Zeke replied.
“What about?” Rosie pressed. “Did she break the law?”
“No, of course not. I have no idea what they want to talk to her about,” Zeke lied.
He yearned to stay with Natalie, but someone had to care for her daughter, and it seemed he was the only someone available. He went to the refrigerator and hauled out a pitcher of milk. Then he sat the little girl on the counter while he filled a glass for her. “What do you usually eat for breakfast, kiddo?”
“Cereal.”
Zeke left her to sip the milk while he searched through the cupboards.
“What do they want to talk to my mommy about?” Rosie asked again.
“Well, now, I’m not sure
.” Zeke filled a small bowl with frosted flakes. “When your mom comes home, I bet she’ll tell us.”
“Where’s she going?”
Zeke did his best to flash a broad smile. “I think she’s going to go for a ride with them.”
“In their cop car?”
“Yes.”
Rosie’s eyes gleamed with interest. “I want to go, too.”
Zeke returned to the child and smoothed her black hair. “I don’t think you’re invited, sweetheart.” He leaned down to get at her eye level. “Have you ever had a morning picnic outside?”
“No.”
“You haven’t?” Zeke lifted the child down from her perch, handed her the glass of milk, and gestured at the porch. “You don’t know what you’re missing. A morning picnic is more fun than a barrel full of monkeys.”
“Won’t I just eat?”
“Heck no. We’ll do all kinds of exciting things.”
Zeke’s words proved to be prophetic. He’d no sooner parked his keister on the stoop than he heard Chester let loose with a war honk. Rosie’s eyes widened with horror. Zeke leaped to his feet. He heard masculine cries of distress coming from the front yard, confirming his worst fears.
“Chester, no!” Rosie yelled.
Zeke knew from experience that remonstrative shouts wouldn’t slow the gander down one iota. He’d just reached the front corner of the house when a police officer vaulted over the veranda rail, a flurry of white, honking feathers going airborne behind him.
With amazing speed, the cop raced for his car. Big problem. He stopped momentarily to wrest the door open, giving Chester opportunity to nail him on the ass. Zeke winced. The officer jumped, his shiny black shoes clearing the ground by at least a foot.
“Ouch!” he yelled. “Goddamned bird!”
The cop jerked off his hat and turned to swat at the gander. Chester was no faint heart, to be sent running by anything so insubstantial as a flapping hat. The bird hissed, extended his neck, and chomped the closest target, which just happened to be the fly of the police officer’s pants. The poor man folded at the knees as if he’d been drop-kicked, hands cupped over his crotch, face buried in the grass. Luckily, Chester became momentarily distracted by the officer’s hat rolling across the lawn.
Zeke flew into action to protect the fallen officer before Chester decided to press further assault. Unfortunately, before Zeke could reach the gander, the other cop came running out onto the grass to assist his partner. He had his hand on his firearm and murder in his eye.
“Don’t shoot him,” Zeke called. “He’s a family pet.”
“Pet, my ass. He attacked my partner!” the stocky fellow cried.
“I’ll get him,” Zeke promised, and then set himself to the task of doing just that, spreading his arms wide and racing in to do the “Dances with Ganders” thing again. He chased the blasted goose in circles around the yard for at least five minutes before finally getting him herded to the barn.
Zeke had been outside with Rosie for about thirty minutes when a blue Honda came bouncing up the gravel driveway and circled the police car to reach the back parking area. A raven-haired woman swung out. She was dressed in a skintight black leather skirt that rode well above her knees, a bright red knit top that showcased curves to knock a man’s eyes out, and black heels that gave a whole new definition to the word spike. Zeke needed no introduction to know that this was Natalie’s mother. She had the same sexy twist to her walk, the same flair with clothes, and almost the same face, except that hers had seen a little more wear.
When she entered the backyard, Rosie gave a delighted laugh and raced across the grass. “Grammy!” she cried. “You aren’t doing hair today?”
“No, I’m taking the whole day off to be with you!” Naomi Patterson hooked her black purse over one arm and crouched down to catch the child in her arms. “How’s my precious girl?”
“I’ve been better,” Rosie replied in that tiny but very adult voice that had so astounded Zeke at first. “The policemen are here to see Mommy, and Chad is crying. I think something very unpleasant has happened.”
So much for shielding the child. She seemed to know almost as much about what was occurring inside as Zeke did.
“Then, as if that weren’t enough, Chester bit one of the policemen once on his butt and the next time in the very worst place.”
Naomi’s brown, heavily lined eyes widened in dismay. “Oh no. Is the policeman okay?”
“He’s still walking sort of funny, but I think he’ll be all right.” Rosie sighed theatrically. “Chester almost got it good, though. The other policeman nearly shot him.”
“Good grief! He’s only a silly goose.”
“Mr. Coulter saved him,” Rosie went on. “And now we’re having a morning picnic outside.” Rosie scrunched her nose. “I don’t think he wants me to hear what those policemen are saying to Mommy.”
Naomi sent Zeke a worried look. Zeke guessed her to be in her mid-fifties, but even at close range, she was still a knockout with cameo-perfect features, beautiful brown eyes, and the body of a much younger woman.
Lifting Rosie to ride her hip, she managed to teeter across the uneven lawn with commendable grace. Zeke would have broken his neck on level ground trying to walk in those damned heels.
“Mr. Coulter.” Juggling both the child and her purse, she held out a slender hand. “As I’m sure you’ve already gathered, I’m Naomi Westfield, Natalie’s mother.”
He clasped her delicate fingers. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Westfield. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“Please, just call me Naomi.” She kissed her granddaughter’s curls and then handed the child back to Zeke. “I have to go inside, sweetie. You stay out here and finish your morning picnic. Okay?”
“My cereal’s all gone,” Rosie protested. “Why can’t I go back in?”
Zeke tickled the little girl’s ribs. “You promised to introduce me to Daisy and Marigold.”
“Oh. I forgot.” Rosie squirmed to get down. Then she grabbed Zeke’s index finger to lead him to the barn. “We’ll be right back, Grammy!” she called.
“Take your time,” Naomi replied. “And whatever you do, don’t let Chester out.”
Never in Zeke’s life had he lived through a longer day. After Naomi arrived, Natalie got dressed and left with the police officers. After her departure, Naomi gave Chad a Benadryl and hustled him up to bed. Within an hour, the boy had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
When Naomi came back downstairs, Zeke was sitting at the table, holding Rosie on his knee. Pop and Gramps sat across from him, the pair slumped over their coffee mugs, their faces haggard with worry.
“Valerie’s sitting with Chad.” Naomi stopped at the center of the room and put her hands on her shapely hips. To Pete and Charlie, she said, “Aren’t you a sorry-looking pair?”
“Don’t start with me,” Pete growled.
“Better I should let you sit there, looking like death warmed over? Go wash up and shave, for heaven’s sake. I can smell you from here, Pete, and I’m standing upwind.”
Pete’s blue eyes sparked with anger. “Don’t come into my house and start ordering me around, woman.”
“It’s technically Natalie’s house,” she shot back. “Your mother left it to her, if you’ll remember. And if you don’t want to be ordered around, stop moping and do something productive.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Pete shot up from his chair with amazing agility for a man with a painful lower back. “Our daughter is—”
“Having a lovely time,” Naomi cut in, casting a meaningful glance at Rosie. “It’s not every day she gets to go for a ride in a police car.” She smiled sweetly and fluttered her bejeweled hand at the doorway. “Run along, Pete. Get cleaned up while I fix you some breakfast.” Naomi’s gaze softened when she looked at Charlie. She came around the table to give the old man a hug. “Hi, Dad. Goodness, it’s nice to see you.”
Gramps twisted on the chair to return her embrace.
“How’s my favorite girl?” he asked.
“Fat and sassy,” she said with a laugh.
“I can testify to the sassy part. You always gotta needle him. Don’t ya?”
Naomi patted the old man’s shoulder. “Of course! He’d think I was sick if I acted nice.” She rasped her red acrylic nails over Gramps’s bewhiskered jaw. “Go scrape that grizzle off your face, you ornery old codger, so I can give you a proper kiss. Breakfast will be waiting when you’re done.”
Gramps sighed resignedly and pushed back on the chair. “What’re ya fixin’ us?”
“I’ll surprise you.” Naomi ruffled Rosie’s hair as she swept away. “Time to get dressed, little girl. Chop-chop. Breakfast will be done shortly.”
“I already ate!” Rosie protested.
Naomi smiled as she donned an apron. “Oh, that’s a crying shame! I’m going to make Easter-bunny flapjacks. You don’t want any?”
Rosie was off Zeke’s knee in a flash and running from the room. Naomi’s smile faded after the child left. She turned a worried gaze on Zeke. “Robert either killed himself or was murdered,” she said without preamble. “They found him out in the garage, dead in his ’Vette. He’d been asphyxiated.”
“How did you learn that?”
“I called Grace Patterson on my way here. They rang her doorbell at three this morning and asked all kinds of questions. Who Robert’s been dating. Who his last girlfriend was. If he had any enemies. If he and Natalie were still having problems.”
“So they believe there was foul play?”
“Looks that way.” Natalie took a mixing bowl from a shelf and began adding ingredients for flapjacks. After measuring in baking powder, she brushed off her hands and turned to look at him again. “Are you involved with my daughter?”
Zeke saw no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“Do you love her?”
He nodded.
Naomi cut right to the chase. “I think she’d going to need a lawyer. How much money can you get your hands on? I’ve got only two grand. If a lawyer so much as farts, it costs more than that.”