Drop Dead Gorgeous (8 page)

She catapulted out of bed, raced out to the hall and down the stairs to the door. She frowned, dead still, as she realized that there was no peephole in the front door. She did have a screen door in front of the wooden one, and it was locked, but really, only a fool would open her door
…

The pounding began again. She didn’t want Brendan wakened unless something were really wrong, so as the pounding continued, she threw open the door, reminding herself even as she did so that she really had to be an idiot—a murder had just taken place in the city. But murderers didn’t normally knock first.

Through the screen door, she saw him. Sean.

She froze once again. Just staring.

“Damn it, Lori, let me in.”

Sean Black. The bastard had haunted her
dreams—not to mention her life.

Now he was standing on her front porch.

6

L
ori wasn’t sure why, but she responded to Sean’s command and opened the screen door. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, and the fact that he’d probably stand out there banging until the police showed up if she didn’t let him in.

He entered her house, closing and locking the door behind him, his eyes never leaving hers.

“What the hell brought you back here?” he demanded, his voice thick.

“What the hell brought
you
back?”

“Lori, I asked you what the hell brought you back!”

“And I asked the same thing.”

“Well, I damned well asked first.”

If he weren’t so angry and tense, the situation might have been funny. And it was certainly strange that the years could wash away so quickly, and she could feel that she
knew
him when he was really such a stranger. But she did know him, the way she could gauge his anger by the tick in the vein at his throat, the tension in his face, the way he dragged his fingers through his hair. Certain things just didn’t change about people; characteristics might fade with age, might be refined, but they were still there.

She shrugged, determined to be casual.

“My grandfather is very ill, and though you might not remember, he and I were always very close.”

His eyes remained locked upon her. She was annoyed to realize that a note of distress had touched her voice. However, he seemed to ease somewhat, leaning against the door then, though he crossed his arms over his chest while watching her.

“I remember,” he said softly.

“So what are you doing back? Lording it over us all?” she demanded.

There was a look of anger—and amusement about hi
m. “People are fickle, I’ve dis
covered. If they decide not to hang you, they put you on a pedestal. I was sent here by my publishing house. I thought I should stay on a while. I write crime. There’s lots of it here.”

She was quiet for a moment.
Hell
,
yes
₃
lots of it! He had come back into tow
n,
and one of the most heinous murders since Jack the Ripper had taken place!

She felt her mouth go dry, and she swallowed
hard.
Ellie had been Mandy’s best friend.
Now
they were both dead. And what the hell
was she
thinking? She had loved him, really
loved him
—though adults had a way of saying
that
all juvenile feelings were crushes—and
she knew
damned well, deep in her heart, that Sean Black couldn’t possibly murder anyone.

Yet
his eyes
narrowed as he watched her; he was reading her thoughts.

“Wonderful!” he said bitterly. “You think
I came back into town, my murderous capability honed by fifteen years of maturity and growth, to butcher Ellie?” he inquired softly.

“No!” she protested. “No!” She shook her head vehemently. Why did it sound as if she was lying. No matter what she said or did right now, it just wasn’t going to come out right.

“Why are you here, now, tonight?” she asked.

“Because it’s scary, all this coincidence. It’s damned scary.”

It was; Jan had known it, she knew it.

Lori crossed her arms over her own chest. “It’s a big city. What is the greater Miami population now? Over three million. It’s not New York City, I grant you, but in this kind of population—”

“You have drugs and domestic violence. You have guys who shoot down gas station attendants for the fifty bucks in the cash register. You have gangs and juveniles shooting at one another. You have the guy who gets carried away on a date. The woman who freaks out and shoots her husband. But
this
…
there’s a bona fide psychotic killer out there, and he’s out there somewhere close.”

Chills suddenly shot up her spine. He continued to stare at her, as if she might somehow invite the murderer right over.

“So why are you here?” she demanded again.

“To tell you to go back to New York.”

“You can’t tell me to go back to New York. I can’t go—I came here for a reason. You go
back to—wherever it was you came from.”

“I’m not in danger!”

“How do you know you’re not in danger? How do you know you’re not in the most danger? Hell, how do you know that Ricky won’t turn around and arrest you—”

“Because I’m not so vulnerable anymore,” he told her softly. “And you’re missing the point here—a woman was brutally tortured and murdered.”

“And it’s horrible, but it’s happened before, and people are tortured and killed in New York—”

“Not people we know.”

She held her breath for a moment.

“Lori, get the hell out of here,” he said simply, and with authority, as if he could make her do it.

“You get the hell out of here, Sean, out of my house, and out of here—”

“Mom?”

She broke off, feeling another cold sweat assail her as she realized that her voice had risen, and that she’d awakened Brendan.

He was coming down the stairs. Tall, lanky, wearing cotton boxers, determined to defend her from whatever trouble was at their door.

“Mom, is there a problem?” he began, and then he saw who was standing just inside their front door, and his entire expression changed. His face lit up like a candle. “Michael Shayne? Michael Shayne?” He gazed at his mother, hope in his eyes. “You two know each other?”

Lori couldn’t quite find an answer. Sean responded.

He stepped past her, offering Brendan his hand. Brendan shook it.

“We went to school together, way back. My name’s really Sean, Sean Black. Nice to meet you, Mr. Corcoran.”

He had a way with kids, Lori thought. Her palms were damp.

“My name is Brendan,” her son told him, still in awe.

“Call me Sean.”

“My mom really knows you?” he repeated.

Sean smiled. His nice smile. Lori knew the smile; he was pleased, of course, yet not at all sure why he evoked such admiration, and he was uncomfortable still with too much adulation. He’d been like that at school when he’d made a great play on the football field, or had come up with an amazing essay in English class or argument in debate. She was tempted to touch him. Just reach out, stroke his face.

She gritted her teeth together and stood perfectly still.

“I’ve read everything. Everything you’ve ever written,” Brendan told him.

“Hell, I hope not. Some of my early stuff was so bad I keep it in a desk drawer, and I’ve never let it out. I think about burning it now and then; but then again, I like to remember how things started, and how we can all learn and grow.”

“I want to write,” Brendan told him.

“Then, do it.”

Brendan was still staring at him. “Wow. I just can’t believe I’m getting to meet you. In person. But
…
wow. So you’ve really come home, huh? I thought you were just here on a book tour. Don’t you live in California?”

“I do, but I’m here for a while. Research.”

“That’s great. If you need anything, maybe I could help you. Run errands, do the post office bit, whatever.”

“Brendan, maybe he likes to work alone,” Lori put in quickly. “And you’ve got a new school—”

“Yeah, brand-new school, not a lot of friends,” Brendan murmured dryly.

“You will have lots of friends,” Lori said, aware her voice was tightening, but unable to stop it. “And you’ve got to get back to bed now. Mr. Black was just leaving.”

“Mom!” Brendan protested.

“I was just leaving.”

“You just came—and you’re leaving?” Brendan said.

Sean’s cool blue gaze flickered over Lori. “I haven’t seen your mother in a very long time. I was surprised to learn that she was back in town as well.”

“Just back in town. I mean, this is really incredible. We just came in today.”

“Today, umm, I guess you did just arrive. Anyway, I really was going. I just came to see that
…
” he broke off, hesitating, then shrugged. “It’s a strange homecoming. I was just trying to see that your mom was safe.”

“Safe?” Brendan said, and sounded confused.

Sean didn’t miss a beat, realizing that she hadn’t told her son that an old friend had been brutally murdered.

“New home and all. Needs an alarm.”

“We’ll be getting an alarm system installed. Right away,” Lori assured them both.

Sean nodded, still staring at her. “Going back to New York might be better.”

“You like New York, too?” Brendan said. “I loved the city. This move w
as kind of tough, except that…
my great-grandfather is a great guy—”

“I know.” Sean said softly.

“Oh, yeah, of course, you went to school with Mom. And Jan.”

“Jan, Brad, your Uncle Andrew, a lot of folks,” Sean said.

“Yeah. We’re really okay, you know. I mean, I’ve got to make new friends, but we’ve got family here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sean said. “Well, good night then.”

He turned to the door, opening it, exiting. Brendan followed after him like a puppy. “Can you come back. Like Friday night, for dinner, or something?”

Sean turned, amused, arching a brow at Lori. “Son, your mother might have plans for Friday night.”

“No, she can’t. I’m sure she can’t. Mom, he can come, right? I mean, you tell me all the time to invite my friends over—well, all right, Sean is actually your friend, but that kind of makes it even, right?”

Lori felt as if she’d been frozen in place. No, it wasn’t all right. The last person in the world she wanted to become buddy-buddy with her son was Sean Black.

But she couldn’t seem to protest. With any luck Sean would refuse to come.

“Sean is a busy man these days,” she managed to say. “Very busy.”

“We’d sure love to have you,” Brendan said passionately.

Sean looked right at Lori again, curious as to whether she’d buck her son and tell him he wasn’t wanted.

“Sure,” she said flatly. “We’d just love to have you.”

“Well, then,” he said very quietly, “I’ll definitely be here.”

He turned, and walked into the night without looking back.

S
ean’s phone rang at the crack of dawn. He’d been lying there awake and alone without a hangover. No drinking last night, and no women. The darkness had been peopled with haunting images of the past.

He wasn’t surprised to find that it was Ricky at the other end, but he was startled when his old friend told him he was calling him on behalf of Dr. Kate Gillespie.

“Gillespie wants to consult with me?”

“She asked me if I could call you and bring you in this morning,” Ricky said. “Didn’t exactly say why, but she called me just after
five, which is early for me, too, I can tell you. The lady is a martinet. She rips into her stiffs bright and early. You can say no, of course. You’re a writer, I’m a cop. She makes us all jump through hoops, but you—”

“I owe a lot of coroners,” Sean said briefly. And he liked Gillespie. He was curious as to why she would want to see him again.

“I’ll be by in ten minutes,” Ricky told him.

“I’ve got a rental; I can meet you—”

“Naw, I’ll come by. You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened in my life in years.”

“Ricky, you’re a homicide detective in the big city.”

“Yeah, sad, ain’t it?”

Things grew more interesting at the morgue. After traveling lengths of corridors and halls to find Gillespie’s theater of operation, Ricky stood by Sean, watching as Gillespie worked on an older man stretched out on a gurney. “Looks as clean as a newborn babe,” Ricky said. “Not a scratch on him. This guy is a murder victim?”

“Killed with kindness. His wife made him one apple pie too many. Heart attack,” Gillespie said briefly.

“Then—” Ricky began.

“Heart attack—we think by a good, educated guess. According to the laws of the state, since the poor fellow was alone when he expired, we have to make sure. Now, Detective, thanks for bringing me our friend the
author. When I’m done with him, I’ll send him home, and you can quiz him later.”

Ricky glanced at Sean, both amusement and resentment apparent in his gaze. “Okay, Doc, as you say. But I will quiz him later, you know. And we’re old high school buddies. Guys talk, you know?” Ricky waited a few seconds to see if he would be invited to stay anyway.

He wasn’t. Sean didn’t intend to help him. He was too curious to know what Gillespie was up to.

“All right, then
…
” Ricky said, starting out.

“All right, then. See you soon,” Gillespie said cheerfully.

Ricky finally left. Dr. Gillespie spoke into the mike, describing the deceased as a man of about seventy-five years of age, six feet in height, two hundred and thirty pounds. She described the outer signs of coronary on his body, the condition of his skin, etcetera, then prepared to make her initial cut. She hesitated—yet Sean was certain the hesitation was a ploy—and turned off the mike.