Suspicion Of Guilt. Tracey V. Bateman

hook up the wet ’n’ dry vac.”

      “Don’t bother. We’ll have to get it pumped out. It’s pretty deep.”

      Leigh kicked at the linoleum with one socked foot. “How much is that going to cost?”

      “Nothing.” Corrigan’s voice cut through the air. “I know a guy with a pump.”

      As much as Denni wanted to believe in his good intentions, the offer had the distinct odor of a rat. A big fat suspicious rat with a shiny badge and knee-weakening green eyes.

      “Thanks, anyway.”

      “Yeah. Who needs you?” Leigh growled in his direction.

      Denni couldn’t blame the girl for her animosity. Since the first mishap three months ago—a laptop computer and a pretty expensive stereo system both missing—Corrigan had made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t ruling out any of the girls as suspects. Leigh had seemed to take the brunt of his questions. A fire in the laundry room a month later had only deepened his suspicion. Especially after he’d found a lighter and cigarettes in her room. And no amount of don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover speeches from Denni could deter him.

      “Come on,” he said. “No strings attached.”

      Leigh snorted. “Yeah, right.”

      He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but these guys work by the hour. Who knows how long it’ll take to pump out that much water?”

      “We’ll manage, Detective,” Denni said, mentally calculating how much was left in her account, and if worse came to worst, her credit-card balances.

      “Fine. At least come down and fill out a report.”

      Denni shook her head. “I’ve changed my mind. It was probably just an accident.”

      “Sure.” His lips dripped with sarcasm. “A water faucet that only your girls know is broken. Why would anyone else have turned it on?”

      “I don’t know.”

      He gave a frustrated huff. “If you’d report it, I’d be officially assigned to investigate. We could get to the bottom of this.”

      “Hey, Corrigan,” Leigh piped in. “Where’s our stereo and computer? Weren’t you assigned to that one, too?”

      “Can it, Leigh,” Denni said. There was no sense in antagonizing him.

      Too late. The guy was sufficiently ticked off. He took a step toward the sneering girl. “Why don’t you tell me who you sold them to? Then I’ll get them back for Denni.”

      “Why don’t you stop trying to be a big shot and just do your job?”

      Denni cringed as the gloves officially came off. These two were going for a knockout.

      “Believe me, I’m doing my job, little girl. And unless I miss my guess, you’ll be finding that out firsthand, real quick.”

      “Are you threatening me?”

      “Good grief.” Denni smacked the counter again, heedless of the stinging in her palm. “You two are acting like a couple of three-year-olds. Detective, is there anything else we can do for you?” Belatedly she remembered she’d called him.

      She cringed as his brow went up. “No, I don’t guess there’s anything else I want, but I recognize an invitation to leave when I hear one. I’ll show myself out.” He brushed past Leigh. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

      “I can’t wait,” she smarted back.

      “Good bye, Detective,” Denni said. “Thank you for the offer of the pump.”

      “Yeah, no problem.” He gave her a long stare, then shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen.

      “What a weasel.”

      Reece’s lips twisted into a wry grin at Leigh’s assessment of his charm—or the lack thereof. He paused on the other side of the wall separating him from the kitchen, feeling like a jerk for eavesdropping, but thinking he might be handed a clue on a silver platter if he hung out at the door for awhile.

      “We don’t have time to think about him right now, Leigh,” Denni’s voice responded. “What am I going to do about Monday’s luncheon?”

      “Oh, brother. I forgot about that.”

      Luncheon? The woman had a serial saboteur on her hands and she was giving a party? Reece scowled.

      Leigh’s voice continued. “Who can we call to get the basement pumped out?”

      “There’s no point. The electric company won’t shut off the electricity until Monday.”

      “Well, that’s that.”

      Denni’s sigh went straight to Reece’s heart. He shook it off. Now was not the time to get soft about the house mother. For all he knew, she might be the one responsible for the mishaps. He’d have to look into her insurance policy again.

      In the meantime, she was going to take his help whether she wanted it or not.

      He lifted his cell phone from his belt and dialed while he walked to his truck, a gray and black Avalanche. He leaned against the door listening to the rings.

      “Hey, Jack,” he said when his friend answered the phone. “I have a little problem I need some help with.”

      “What’s that?”

      “How hard would it be to get a rush order to shut off someone’s electricity?”

      “What kind of police work calls for you to do that?”

      “None. This is a personal favor. The lady has a basement full of water and can’t pump it out while the electricity is on.”

      He hesitated a minute. “Give me the address and I’ll see what I can do.”

      “Thanks, Jack. Oh, one more thing. Can you turn it back on tomorrow? She has a luncheon on Monday.”

      A knowing chuckle reached his ears. “Hey, don’t tell me you finally found someone who actually wants to go out with you.”

      Heat burned his neck. The idea of dating Denni Mahoney had merit. As a matter of fact, he’d thought of it more than once. And if the case ever wrapped up, he might ask her out, but not now. “No. Nothing like that.” He gave him the address and quickly disconnected the call.

      Before he could lift the door handle and climb into the truck, a low growl caught his attention, setting his senses on high alert.

      With careful movement, he turned his head. A Doberman stood not five feet away, teeth bared, and looking ready to bite a hunk out of him.

      “Easy, boy.”

      “Buffy! Leave that man alone!”

      Buffy? This had to be the worst case of misnaming an animal he’d ever encountered. Boy or girl, Buffy looked more like a Bruiser or a Spike.

      Still he felt a little embarrassed to have been so antsy, when an elderly woman marched right up to the dog and smacked it on the nose as though Buffy didn’t have the capacity to bite off a thumb. “Shame on you,” she scolded. “What have I told you about being nasty to people?”

      Buffy’s pink tongue shot out and lathered the woman’s wrinkled hand. She melted visibly. “Oh, you’re such a sweetie pie,” she crooned.

      “Ma’am. I take it this is your dog?”

      “Of course, she is. Aren’t you, Buffy Boo?”

      Reece tensed. The baby talk was getting on his nerves. Flashing his badge, he put on his best off-duty-but-still-a-cop face. “Inside the city limits, Buffy has to stay behind a fence or inside the house where she isn’t a threat to anyone.”

      “Buffy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”