Love Under Two Private Dicks Part 15

Emily Anne stifled a yawn as she made her way, loaded tray in hand, back to the kitchen. She'd had trouble sleeping the night before-probably, she thought, because it was the first night in a while that she'd slept alone in her own bed in her own apartment. It seemed totally unfair that she could be spoiled from being cuddled between those two men this soon.

Get a grip, girl.

Emily Anne s.h.i.+vered. She absolutely hated it when her mother's words crept into her head, even if they were the right words at the right time.

As she loaded her tray of dishes into the dishwasher, she acknowledged that she really did need to get a grip. Mel and Connor had mentioned the night before that they'd be getting an early start this morning. They planned on heading over to Divine to have a quick conference with Ace Webster and Kemp Whittier. They'd told her she could stay the night-had practically begged her to stay the night again-but no, she'd latched onto what had felt like the beginning of a brush-off and decided to go home. Of course once they'd started to really plead for her to stay she'd felt too d.a.m.ned embarra.s.sed by her knee-jerk reaction to change her mind. Besides, she did need to do some laundry, and, she'd a.s.sured herself, it wouldn't hurt for her to sleep in her own bed for a change, for one d.a.m.n night.

She'd told them the reason for her decision was so that she wouldn't be awakened by them heading out at four-thirty a.m., but that hadn't exactly been the truth.

Now that I think on it, I'm probably just being silly. Imagining trouble where none exists-or picking up on something that has a simple explanation.

What was it about women that made their thinking go all haywire the minute they got involved with a man? In her case, she felt as if her thinking had gone dippy times two, because she had two handsome studs loving on her.

The steady and quiet words of her inner voice, telling her that something really was wrong, were words she decided to ignore.

I'm not going to go reading too much into pauses and facial expressions and the sensation that something is off, for G.o.d's sake.

Mel and Connor showed her they wanted her almost every minute they were together. They told her they wanted her and she was going to stop thinking about odd feelings and senses and just take them at their word. Her inner voice whispered, she was certain, just to spite her.

I swear to G.o.d if they've changed their minds about me, there's going to be h.e.l.l to pay.

"Order up for you, Emily Anne, two orders of breakfast tacos with sides of beans." Carrie Benedict set the plates on the serving counter under the heat lamps.

"Thanks, Carrie. Here's another order for you." She tore the slip off the order pad and clipped it to the hood over the counter.

Kelsey hadn't given up on the idea of using a computerized system for placing orders. She just hadn't found a program that suited her, yet.

Emily Anne had no preferences either way. The crowd at l.u.s.ty Appet.i.tes was never so large that it would make that big a difference in her routine.

The kitchen door swung open behind her and Mich.e.l.le Grant came in. "Kate's come in and chosen a table in your section, Emily Anne. She's set herself down at one of the smaller ones by the window." Mich.e.l.le inhaled deeply. "She looks...I don't know...sad, I think."

"I thought she seemed a little preoccupied since they all returned from up north," Carrie said.

"Mom and the dads have been, too," Kelsey said. She shook her head. "Mom said that the funeral for Victoria Dorchester was just so sad."

"I guess it's different when it's an older person who pa.s.ses," Mich.e.l.le said. "But to have a woman, a wife and mother in her prime suddenly die-it must just be heartbreaking for those who loved her."

Emily Anne knew that even if Kate Benedict hadn't known her granddaughter, Victoria Dorchester, all that well, she'd have felt the sadness of the people around her.

Kate Benedict was a woman tuned in to the emotions of others.

"I'll take these tacos out to the paramedics and then go take care of Grandma Kate." It didn't matter to Emily Anne one whit that the elderly woman wasn't really her kin. The lady had entreated her to call her "Grandma Kate" since day one. That sentiment went both ways.

Warren and Edward Jessop had been sitting uncharacteristically quiet as Emily Anne approached. Usually they could be counted on to be deep into some work-related conversation about tourniquets or saline or something equally perplexing. Well, perplexing to her at any rate. But they were sitting quietly and they looked-well, they looked off to her.

There's that d.a.m.n word again. Honestly, Emily Anne, is it everyone else who is "off" or is it just you?

She told her inner voice to shut up, and set a smile on her face. "Here you go, gentlemen. Careful, the plates are hot. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks," Warren said.

"Yes, actually." Edward looked up at her, his focus singularly intense. "Candy or flowers?"

She looked from one to the other of them and wondered what the h.e.l.l she'd just stepped into the middle of.

"Um...in what context?"

Edward's face turned a bit red. He flicked his gaze down, then looked up at his brother.

"Well, you started it," Warren said.

"I just thought Emily Anne would be a good person to ask since, you know, she is a woman and she is dating."

She hadn't heard any rumors about the two paramedics being interested in anyone, but suddenly their question to her made sense.

"Are you asking me what the best gift is to bring a woman when you go calling on her?" She made certain she kept her voice soft, so that no one else could hear the question. These poor men were easily embarra.s.sed, though she had no idea why they would be. Though she wasn't attracted to them, she had eyes and could see they were both very good-looking men. Texas Grade A prime, her cousin Patsy would say.

"We searched online but could find no definitive answer," Warren said. "Some experts suggested wine, and some a small piece of jewelry, or a bottle of perfume. Not that we would mind the cost of any of those, you understand, but we didn't know if those gifts would be appropriate, or not, or if they would be acceptable, or not."

"I really liked that one suggestion about a piece of intimate apparel," Edward said-as much to his brother as to her. "I especially liked that web site we found. Some of those corsets and chemises were both beautiful and s.e.xy. I could totally see her in one of those. Maybe as things progress we can buy her something from there." Edward frowned. "Though how those experts know the tenth date would be the time to offer one of those items, I haven't a clue."

"Maybe we can. But before we can plan on what we're going to do for our tenth date, we have to have our first date, and I am afraid that at the speed we're making decisions here, we're never going to get to a tenth one."

Emily Anne felt like a spectator at a tennis match, but she thought she finally had an idea what the men were talking about, and what their dilemma was.

"So you're wondering what to bring with you as a token gift when you ask a woman out on your first date, is that it?"

Both men put their attention on her and nodded their heads.

Flowers or chocolates? That seemed to be the traditional route, and a much better bet than any of the other things either man had mentioned.

"May I ask one question, first?" She was actually dying to find out who it was these two sweet men were sweet on, but instead of asking for a name, she asked something else entirely. "Is she city or country?"

"Country."

Emily Anne smiled. They'd both answered at the same time, and that was good.

"Well, what we mean is she has spent time in a major city, but she's country, all the way. Sweet and caring and beautiful."

While Warren had spoken Edward had nodded his head enthusiastically.

Emily Anne tilted her head to the side. "If it was later in the spring I'd suggest flowers that you'd both gone out and picked yourselves. But since it's not, you can still make it flowers-but nothing fancy or heavy scented, unless you know for certain that her favorite flowers are, say, roses. And nothing exotic or imported, either. Just go with something that, when you look at them, makes you think of her."

The brothers Jessop traded looks that let Emily Anne know she'd confused them. But they each gave her their trademark distracted grins.

"We're not sure we understand that completely," Warren said.

"But when we get to the florist in Waco we'll see if we can make it work for us," Edward said.

"Good luck. Now, please get to eating those tacos before they go cold." There was just something about these two men that brought out the maternal in her. That was kind of funny in a way because she knew for a fact they were older than she was.

Both men thanked her and then dug into their food.

Emily Anne hid her grin. And another world-impacting problem has been solved. Waitresses, like bartenders, sometimes became unplanned confidantes in the dilemmas of life. Emily Anne never minded helping someone out. She figured that was what life was all about, at its very core.

She let her gaze find Kate Benedict, and headed toward the nonagenarian.

"Good morning, Grandma Kate."

Kate turned her gaze from the street to Emily Anne. Her smile blossomed, warm and familiar, and Emily Anne felt the small bit of worry that had gripped her in the kitchen earlier ease up.

Kate Benedict might be sad from time to time, but that smile was pure Grandma Kate.

"It is a good morning, isn't it?" Kate said.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm glad you're back home with us-and I'm very sorry for the loss in your family."

Kate's smile beamed brighter. "Thank you, Emily Anne. And I'm so glad you think of l.u.s.ty as home." Kate leaned forward just slightly. "How are those two private investigators doing, dear?"

"They're just fine, Grandma Kate. Busy, today. Off to Divine to have a meeting with a couple of other investigators who've been helping them look for that man who stole Chloe and Carrie's inheritance."

"Ah yes, Mr. Webster and Mr. Whittier." Kate's eyes fairly sparkled. "I've heard their wife has a very nice boutique, over there in Morehead."

Emily Anne no longer wondered at the extent of Kate Benedict's knowledge of everyone and everything. "I've been there, but only once so far. Summer has some amazing things." And then, because she thought of the b.u.t.t plugs and the lube, Emily Anne blushed.

Kate chuckled and patted her hand. "That was a little wicked of me, wasn't it? Turning your mind to private matters when you're here at work."

Emily Anne laughed. "Don't you go feeling bad about that, Grandma Kate. Truth to tell, my thoughts have been going to those two private d.i.c.ks far too often all on their own as it is. It seems I can't help it." And then she blushed again because she'd called them d.i.c.ks and not detectives.

"I remember very well what it's like, when two far-too-handsome-for-their-own-good men put their sights on you." Kate's grin softened. "Do you know, Emily Anne, I was your age exactly when those two flyboys named Benedict schemed to bring me here to l.u.s.ty. They were older than I, too, just as your two private detectives are older by almost the same number of years. That fact might have given me pause if I hadn't been a woman who knew her own mind-and her own heart." She nodded once. "You're a woman who knows her own mind and her own heart, too, Emily Anne. My money's on you to show those two hotshots what's what."

Emily Anne wondered how her ego could still fit inside her body. To hear Kate Benedict speak of her in those terms made her feel prouder than proud, and gave her self-confidence the boost it needed.

And, d.a.m.n it, Kate's right. I do know my own mind and my own heart. And she knew those two private d.i.c.ks, too. Something might be bothering them, but she wouldn't let herself think it was her. In fact, she didn't think they understood that whatever was bothering them even showed. h.e.l.l, they might not, each of them, understand they were both "a little out of sorts."

She'd give them a bit of time, let them have the freedom to work out whatever it was they were having issues with.

And just like that, Emily Anne thought she might have figured out what the problem they were having might be.

No, it wasn't a problem about her, not exactly. But the issue they were grappling with did involve her, if she was right, and could bring them all to a world of hurt if they didn't figure it out and soon.

"Thank you, Grandma Kate. Just talking to you like this has made me feel much better."

"Why, what a lovely thing to say. I'm glad. And if you ever really need someone to talk to, Emily Anne, I want you to feel free to seek me out."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you, I will." And she'd give those two private d.i.c.ks of hers a little while to figure it all out before she stepped in and showed them the way of things.

Whew, I do feel much better. Anyone who thought all she did was sling burgers and fries and pour sweet tea didn't know squat. Being a waitress wasn't just a job, it was a slice of life. Yes, it was, and her place in it was just as important and vital as anyone else's.

G.o.d, I love this town.

Emily Anne turned her attention back to Kate Benedict. "What can I get you this morning for breakfast, Grandma Kate?"

"I heard a rumor that Tracy brought some of her cream puffs in this morning," Kate said.

Emily Anne fought her grin. "Yes, ma'am. I heard that same rumor, myself. Would you like tea, or coffee, with those?"

Kate inhaled deeply and smiled. "I'll have the coffee, please." She took the paper napkin up from under her knife and spread it on her lap. "Cream puffs and coffee will make a perfect breakfast on such a beautiful day."

Emily Anne not only agreed, she decided to set one of those tasty little pastries aside for herself, for later.

"Well?" Ace Webster had pulled his SUV around a corner, allowing Connor to get a look, and a picture, of their subject.

Connor didn't answer right away. He had his entire attention focused, through his camera's telephoto lens, on the man who was ambling down the street. He and Mel had just arrived for their meeting at The Dancing Pony when Ace and Kemp had rushed in with the news that Smith was in town right then. They'd seen him go into the grocery store. He'd left with Ace and his Nikon, hoping for a clear shot.

"Look this way, a.s.shole," Connor said aloud, but mostly to himself.

As if the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had heard him he turned his head and gazed right in the direction of the camera.

"Gotcha." He clicked three pictures in quick succession, then eased the camera down and looked over at Ace.

"I've got what I need. He sure as h.e.l.l looks different from the way he did in his heyday," Connor said.

"That's what I thought, too, when we compared the man to those pictures you sent. I guess living life under the radar can do that to you." Ace started the car and drove off, taking a circuitous route back to the nightclub. Mel, Kemp, and Ethan Grant were sitting around one of the tables, drinking coffee and chatting when he and Ace joined them.

Since everyone was looking at him he nodded. "I say it's him. But my saying so isn't good enough, and it isn't what we need."

"Mel was telling us about that facial recognition program you have," Ethan said. "That should tell you for certain if Bruce Smith is Ralph Baxter."

Connor nodded. "Yes, we'll know for certain. But we can't use that to get our warrant. It's still a cla.s.sified program."

"Fingerprints are our best hope for proving who he is," Mel said. "But let's take this one step at a time. We'd like to get a look at the man's place up close and personal. See if there's any way we can get eyes and ears on him."

"Now that we know where he is and who he is, we'll begin digging into his past," Connor said. "His past here, as Bruce Smith."

"Because even if we can prove who he is, that still isn't enough to get a warrant to search his premises." Mel sat back. "And we don't really know him, now. We want to know him inside out before we make a move on him."

"I would think that the very fact he's still pretending to be Bruce Smith and not coming out as Ralph Baxter is suspicious," Ethan said. "With the statute of limitations pa.s.sed for both criminal and civil charges and suits, why stay in obscurity? It seems to me, logically, at any rate, that his continuing to live a lie would be considered as sufficient grounds for that warrant."

"I know-if the law worked logically it might be. But he could simply say that he was still in fear for his life-having double-crossed Brody Carp, well-known loan shark and general s.h.i.+thead." Mel grabbed his cup and took a long drink. "Carp is still active in the state, and his business has certainly prospered in recent years. It's reasonable to a.s.sume that if someone found out who he was and made a call, Carp or one of his goons would show up. No, what we need is something that we can take to the authorities, something that will point to the possibility that Bruce Smith, aka Ralph Baxter, killed Neil Jackson."

"If there's evidence out at his place that he committed murder fifteen years ago, then that would make him one stupid son of a b.i.t.c.h," Kemp said. "But then, criminals and con men are more often stupid than not."