"Are you sure? Dango's eyes almost popped out of their socket. What are you doing in this outfit anyway?"

"Harrison likes call girls. I figured neighbors wouldn't notice a new hooker going to his place." I shrugged my shoulders. "You know, hide in plain sight."

Realizing I had only one shoe on, I removed the strappy, torture device and looked around for the other one. It probably was in the pile of garbage behind my car. No way would I go back there to find it. There could be rats, or worse spiders. The shoe could rot there.

Tank uncrossed his arms and took a step in my direction. Anger rolled off him in waves. "You could have gotten hurt. What if it hadn't been me in that car? What if it had been some psycho jerk wad who had his paws all over you? Did you even think about that?" His voice grew louder. "You need a handler."

The anger within bubbled up a bit more. There was no way I'd tell Tank those very same thoughts crossed my mind.

"I don't need anybody," I yelled back, jutting my chin forward. The wig fell into my eyes again, which proved to be the last straw. Mount Shelby erupted. Every frustration, every hurt I'd suffered because of him coursed through my voice. I pushed the wig out of my eyes and we stood toe to toe, nose to... sternum.

"I can take care of myself! I've been doing great since you left." We both knew I meant more than my job and this recent escapade.

"You still need a handler!" Tank bit out.

I shook my head and turned toward my vehicle. Truth be told, what happened in the alley had scared me right down to the bottom of my sore feet.

I'd go back to the hotel, call Polly and check in. Tomorrow I'd locate some hookers who may have known Lulu and Harry. And then-I paused in my thoughts-then I was having my head examined.

"I'm outta here." I called over my shoulder to Tank. He could find his own way back to wherever it was he was staying.

He muttered behind me, "Well, if that's the way it's got to be, then okay."

I didn't even have a chance to squeak before I was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour, one large hand spread across my derriere. He rifled through my purse, which swung with each angry stride and pulled out the car keys. Before cramming his big frame into the driver's side, he unceremoniously dumped me into the pa.s.senger seat. He stopped only long enough to ask me where I was staying and then revving the motor, tore up the alley and raced toward my hotel.

The desk clerk's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide when we barreled through the lobby. Tank, grim-faced, carried the back pack and I stomped alongside barefoot. One shoe dangled from my fingers, the other lay forgotten in the alley. Hotel guests stared openly and gave us a wide berth. Probably because we looked like a hillbilly wedding gone bad.

The ride in the elevator was strained, to say the least, and after I unlocked the door I stormed into the room, not caring if Tank followed. He threw my bag on the bed and I made a beeline for the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.

Standing in front of the mirror I stared at my reflection. The wig lay twisted to one side, looking like a bird's nest with twigs and bits of paper sticking out and the garish makeup had rubbed off in patches. I stripped, throwing the clothes in the garbage while waiting for the tub to fill. Once it was ready I slid into the hot water and lay there, staring at the ceiling.

As I scrubbed the makeup off my face, turning the white cloth into a rainbow of colors, I thought about Tank. He'd been sending off so many mixed signals, I had no idea what he was doing or where I stood with him. It was frustrating how he magically turned up wherever I went.

I sat up, water splashing over the side of the tub. How did he get to Harrison's place before me? Closing my eyes, I recalled what he said in the alley. He said he'd been waiting and watched me go into Harrison's building. He also said he was at my office when Polly booked my flight and I knew he hadn't been on the same flight, because I'd looked. How did he get to L.A. so fast? The only plausible answer was private transportation.

Fast, expensive transportation.

Now I itched in my don't-wanna-itch-place.

Chapter Nine.

Lying in the tub, I wished I had my iPod. Then it would drown out the sounds of Tank watching TV in the other room, or even breathing. I didn't want any reminders that he had once again ended up in the same place as me.

How did he know exactly where I'd be? Was he following me to find Harrison? I quickly discarded that thought as it didn't make sense. Although I was angry at Tank, I knew he was good at his job and had no reason to trail me. Or did he? What should have been a simple missing person's case was turning out to be not so simple.

I felt like a chubby rodent on a stationary wheel.

First order of business was to call Polly and find out how Tank knew I was in L.A. So, after drying off I wrapped a hotel robe around me and head held high, walked into the other room where Tank reclined on one of the double beds. I'd pretend he wasn't there, the big interloper.

Curled in the wingback chair, my legs tucked beneath me, I called Polly's home phone. There was no answer so I had to leave a message.

"Hi Polly, it's me. Guess who's in L.A.? Give you three guesses and if one of them's Tank, you win the prize. Okay, gotta go now. Oh, and Polly? If I find out you told him what I was doing, you are so fired." I replaced the phone receiver with a decisive click. Let her stew on that for a while. I glared at Tank when I thought I heard a choked chuckle, but his face remained stoic and he seemed mesmerized by the football game.

I sniffed in disdain and went back into the bathroom to blow-dry my hair and moisturize.

About an hour later, I phoned a second time. Still no answer. I tapped the receiver against my chin. This was Thursday night and Polly never missed her TV shows. She'd better not be screening her calls. Tank, by this time had fallen asleep and was snoring lightly.

Time to get down and dirty. The next attempt went straight through to her answering machine. In case she was monitoring calls I said, with saccharine sweetness, "Hi. It's me, again. You're still fired. And since you won't talk to me now, I have lots and lots of time to call Regis. I think I'll start by telling him you've had a secret crush on him for years and-"

Polly picked up. "Now that's just mean. I'd never do that to you. You're like a sister to me."

"Stuff it. You hate your sister."

"Well, if I had a sister I liked, it would be you."

I snorted. "How did Tank know I was here?"

"I don't know. I didn't tell him anything. In fact, when you called, I sent him to Hal's for coffee." That explained why she put me on hold. "So how could he...? Oh, dang! He was alone in the office when I went to the powder room."

"Well, he must have found something because he was outside Harry's apartment waiting, and now he's here in the hotel with me." I turned away from the bed and lowered my voice. "Did you get the other thing we talked about?" Even though it looked like Tank was asleep, I couldn't take the chance he wasn't. I didn't want him to know I'd asked Polly to dig up phone records for me.

"My boy at the phone company says he should have them tomorrow. Is Tank coming back with you?" She sounded hopeful.

I looked over at Tank. His eyes were closed.

"Nope, he's on his own."

"Oh." Polly sounded disappointed. "Do you want me to change your flight to tomorrow morning then?"

I picked up my airline ticket and checked the flight time.

"No, leave it for the afternoon. Tomorrow after breakfast I'm going to the area where Lulu may have worked. With luck, I'll find some working girls that knew her and get some answers. I should be home around eight o'clock. Why don't you come by the house then?" I said good-bye, and hung up.

My stomach growled. Realizing I hadn't eaten in almost ten hours, I decided to grab a bite from the little deli I'd noticed beside the hotel. I glanced over to the bed, and Tank.

"Tank?"

No response. Still peeved at what happened earlier I didn't even try to wake him. Back pack in hand, I went into the bathroom and changed. In less than five minutes, I quietly closed the bathroom door, grabbed my hotel swipe card and headed for the elevators.

When I returned about a half an hour later, there was no sign of Tank but a note lay on the pillow. We'll talk later. Love you. T. I read the note, then crumpled the sc.r.a.p of paper and tossed it in the garbage can. He wasn't back in my good books with one lousy note.

I sat on the bed for about five minutes before reaching back into the trash can. Pulling out the note, I smoothed it out and traced the words Love you with my fingertip. I then carefully folded the paper and tucked it into my back pocket. I didn't even try to reason why I wanted to keep it safe. That was just one more thing to keep me from sleeping.

Next morning I woke up stiffer than a starched shirt. Playing tackle football in the back alley had me walking around almost bent at the waist. Polly and I would absolutely take yoga cla.s.ses. My few toiletries were thrown back into my bag and then I checked out. I had less than four hours to find some of the working girls Harrison liked.

Mid-afternoon in Hollywood was hot and sticky. There was no hope for me as my hair curled out of control in the humidity and any deodorant I might have put on that morning had long evaporated. I slid off my hoodie and tied it around my waist. That was better, although my tee shirt clung like a second skin.

Two women approached. The taller one, a statuesque black woman, looked me over from head to toe. She balanced a cheroot in one of those long, slender cigarette holders at the end of her fingers. She could have been a black Joan Crawford with her pencil-thin eyebrows and ruby red lipstick. The only difference being, Miss Crawford would never have gone out in public wearing a figure-hugging tube dress completed by faux leather boots zipped over her knees. She blew concentric circles of smoke into the air before asking, "You new here?"

"This is our corner." The second hooker piped up. The inflection in her voice told me she was a girl from North Dakota, doncha know. Pet.i.te and curvaceous, she had ma.s.sive auburn ringlets and big, wide-s.p.a.ced hazel eyes.

"No, I'm not from here. I'm looking for anyone who knew a girl who worked around here. You may have known her... Lulu?"

I thought I saw a slight hesitation from the black woman, but she quickly replied, "Honey, all the girls here are Lulu, or Fiona, or p.u.s.s.y Galore. Who do you want us to be?"

"No, I'm not looking for a girl, I mean, I am... Wait, let's start over. I'm looking for anyone who knew Lulu. She was murdered and the cops think it was a john called Harry. Ring any bells?"

The black woman stiffened noticeably. "You a cop?"

"No. I'm a private investigator." I pulled out my business cards and handed one to her. "I've been hired by Harry's family to find him. Did you know Lulu or Harry?"

They both looked at the card, caution evident on their faces. It became pretty obvious I needed to gain a bit of their trust. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just trying to figure out why the cops think Harry killed Lulu and where he could have gone."

The black woman handed back the card. "Sorry honey, we cain't help you."

They started to walk away. They couldn't leave, they knew something. I could feel it in my bones. In desperation, I called out. "How much?"

Grabbing my wallet out of my purse I pulled out some bills and waved them. North Dakota girl grabbed my still-waving hand and hissed, "Put it away. You get seen pa.s.sing money on the street and you'll get arrested faster than you can spit."

"I can get arrested for a lot less and faster than that." I said drily and tucked my wallet back into my tacky hooker purse from last night. "All I want is information. What are your names anyway? I hate talking to people when I don't know their name.

"I'm... Carla," The black woman responded. "And this is Desiree."

Desiree waved.

"Thanks. So did you know Lulu?"

"Yeah, we knew her," Carla said.

Desiree, seemingly bored with the conversation, drifted to the edge of the sidewalk and smiled at slow-cruising cars. One vehicle, with dark tinted windows, stopped and she leaned toward the window. I heard her ask if they were looking for a date.

I directed my questions to Carla. "Was Harry good to Lulu?"

"Oh yeah. He sure was sweet on her." Carla chewed her gum and nodded at another dark, low-slung sedan. Once the car slid by, she turned her attention back to me. "He always bought stuff, treated her real good."

"Yah," Desiree, back with us for the moment, interrupted. "He was always buying her stuff. She showed me some of the clothes and jewelry. I told her she should hock some. He gave her really good stuff. Poor Lulu. Wouldn't sell none of it. Said she loved him."

"Oh man, remember that bracelet." Carla rolled her eyes and lit another cheroot. She blew a perfect 'o' ring over my head. "It had to put him back at least five G's. I wonder what happened to all that stuff." She looked over at Desiree, "Do you think Chester got it?"

"Who's Chester?" I blurted out.

"Her pimp." Desiree replied.

Carla took another drag off her cheroot. "Yeah, good 'ole Chester would've cleaned out her whole place. There be none of her stuff around no more."

"Would Harry have killed Lulu?"

"No way he sliced and diced her." Carla's voice was firm. "He was going to get her out of this place. It was one sick dude who offed Lulu."

This didn't make any sense. Why would the cops think Harrison had done the dirty deed? The hamster-on-the-wheel feeling intensified. "Do you have any idea where Harry could have gone?"

Carla arched an eyebrow and sneered. "What do I look like, his mother?"

Desiree snickered and they high-fived each other. Then, bored expressions on their faces, they turned in silent unison and strolled down the sidewalk away from me. It was as if they had never stopped and talked.

Dejected, I took the rental back to the airport and caught my flight home. The trip to L.A. had been a waste of time.

Five long hours later I slouched up the front steps of my house and inserted the key into the door. I heard someone on the steps behind me. Armed with pepper spray, I turned. Not an intruder, but the temptation to spray the weasel at the foot of my steps was overwhelming.

"Regis, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here anyway?"

Regis lived three doors down. He either sprinted here or had been hiding in the rhododendrons. I went with the flowers. He couldn't run that fast. I dropped the canister back into my purse although I wanted to still spray him. That might stop him from bothering me.

"Good evening, Shelby." He adjusted his gla.s.ses. "Mother is most anxious to return some items that belonged to your late Aunt Matilda."

"Does it have to be now? I just got back and I'm bagged."

"This will not take much of your time. Mother wanted me to bring you these recipes your Aunt Matilda lent her. She forgot about them when she moved to Shady Pines." He stood on the first step and handed me an envelope with Aunt Tillie's spidery handwriting on the outside.

This was what he'd been pestering me for? Here I thought he was going to ask me out again.

"Uh...thanks. This means a lot to me." I edged closer to my door. He took another step, cleared his throat and slicked back his hair with the palm of his hand. Inwardly, I cringed, knowing what could be coming next.

"I am taking Mother to the Museum of Natural History this weekend and wondered if you might care to join us?" Perspiration dotted his upper lip and he cleared his throat again.

"I... Ahhh..."

"She's already got a date, sonny boy." I pivoted to my left and watched Tank's long stride eat up the sidewalk.

"I thought you were in L.A.," Regis sputtered, shrinking away.

"Just got back and couldn't wait to get home to the little woman." Tank gave me an intimate, dangerous smile.

If I hadn't been so creeped out by the fact Regis was here, I'd have told him exactly what he could do with his s.e.xy smile, long legs, and muscular arms.

Regis further stepped back when Tank came up on the porch and wrapping those muscular arms around my waist, twirled me around. Mid twirl, he claimed my mouth and set me down. Strong teeth nipped my lower lip and he gave it a gentle tug. All I could do was hold onto his biceps as I swayed into his body and returned the kiss.