With Private Eyes Part 7

"I was thinking," he told her, making a turn. Joe's service station was three blocks up, on the corner. "Probably be good to know if Norblusky had access to the gelato that was used at the tasting. He's no rocket scientist. If he didn't have ready access, he's not a good suspect."

"I see what you mean. Frank Parengeter at the plant would know, wouldn't he? So I guess that's our next stop." She gave her boots an approving glance.

"Mmm. Might be best to let the cops look for Norblusky. They've got a lot more men and resources."

"Then why do people hire you?" she demanded. "If all you're going to do is turn things over to the police, what does anyone need you for?"

"Brains and discretion." He'd found out about Norblusky, not the cops, dammit. "You're just pi- ah, irritated because you wanted to play detective."

She was quiet a moment, and when she spoke it came out more slowly than usual. "You're doing this for money, maybe for professional pride. Those are good reasons, but this is my family that's in trouble. I want this person, whoever it is, stopped. I don't want any more incidents. My sister Emily was nearly killed in the last one."

He grimaced. Hadn't he known she'd be complicated? She was supposed to get huffy. Instead, she turned sincere on him.

It didn't make any difference, he a.s.sured himself as he turned into the Texaco station on the corner. Sincere amateurs were just as likely to get themselves and him into trouble as the ones who'd watched too many Magnum, P.I. reruns. He pulled up at the pump and cut the ignition. "I'll go pay," he said, opening his door. "I could use a can of tonic. You?"

"Not before lunch, thank you."

"Maybe you could pump the gas while I'm at it. You do know how to pump gas?"

"Yes. I bathe myself, too. I've even been known to dial the phone without breaking a nail."

Their eyes met. A smile tugged on his mouth. "You implying I'm stereotyping you?"

"Rich, blond and female does not equal helpless."

The smile widened into a grin. "Ever change your own oil?"

"Don't get carried away," she advised him, opening her door and sliding out.

Joe was sitting behind the counter, leafing through a magazine. He looked up in disapproval when Ethan walked in. "Looks like a nice young woman. I thought you'd outgrown this kind of behavior."

"I'm not dumping her," Ethan said, exasperated. "I explained all this. I'm escaping, but it's purely business."

"Pretty thing, too. Long legs, long blond hair..." He sighed. "Real pretty. Doesn't look like a criminal to me."

"She's not a criminal. She's a nuisance." Ethan pulled out his wallet.

"You always think your women are a nuisance after a while."

"She's not my woman. Here." He put a twenty on the counter, glancing out the window. He needed to get away before Claudia finished. How long would it take her to realize he wasn't coming back to the car? "For the gas. Your car is around back?"

"If Cindy finds out I helped you trick your girlfriend-"

"Read my lips. She is not my girlfriend."

"Maybe you don't think so. She might, though." Joe glanced out the window again. Claudia was wiping down the windshield with the squeegee. When she stretched, her sweater rode up, giving them a lovely view of her pretty little bottom. "She's blond."

"I don't date every blonde who stumbles across my path. The keys, Joe? Or are you backing out on our deal?"

"No reason you can't take the T."

"Public transportation is fine if it goes everywhere I want to. It doesn't. And you agreed, dammit."

Joe looked stubborn. "I wasn't thinking straight. If you use my car, Cindy will want to know why."

Cindy was Joe's wife, and Ethan's cousin. One of his cousins. His parents had both come from families who had taken the "go forth and multiply" injunction to heart, though they'd had only a single child themselves. Him. "Tell Cindy I borrowed your car because of a case I'm working on. That has the advantage of being true. She won't know about Claudia unless you mention her."

Ethan ought to be feeling pleased. This was a neat trick, worthy of the woman who'd sneaked his photograph yesterday. He felt like pond sc.u.m. The kind of slippery slime that coats stagnant water, maybe mixed with a little industrial waste.

That was what he got for kissing her, dammit. Guilt.

"They pull it out of your head," Joe said glumly. "Whatever you don't want them to know, they pull it right out. I don't know how women do that, but they do."

Ethan sighed. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed the magazine from Joe's hands.

"Hey!"

"Hmm." He glanced at the contents briefly before handing it back. "Hope you're wrong about female telepathy, Joe. If Cindy pulls anything out of your head about Claudia, you'd better be ready for her to read my mind, too. Miss April is pretty memorable. She's likely to be featured prominently in my thoughts ... along with where I saw her."

"Now, hold on a minute. That's blackmail."

Ethan held out his hand.

Grumbling under his breath, Joe put his car keys in Ethan's palm.

"Thanks. You might as well change the oil while my car's here. I'll pay you when I pick it up tonight."

He whistled the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" as he made his getaway through the garage.

An amiable records clerk was a P.I.'s best friend. Some records were online these days, but a lot weren't. Ethan's second stop after ditching Claudia was the Middles.e.x County Courthouse, that having been Norblusky's county of residence before he'd dropped out of sight.

Unfortunately, at this courthouse he didn't have a friendly clerk. All he had was Lenny-creaky, cantankerous, slow and sour. But bribable, at least. Tickets to the next Celtics home game usually kept him cooperative.

It was his own fault he was stuck with Lenny. Back in his workaholic period he'd briefly dated the clerk who used to help him here. Julia had claimed she wasn't interested in a relationship, just some mutual fun. She'd been slim and pretty and good company, if too talkative-she'd talked before, during and after s.e.x. But the s.e.x itself had been good, and he'd thought they were doing fine on the mutual fun arrangement.

On their fifth date, she'd spent the afterglow talking about marriage. She hadn't appreciated his reaction. Since she talked at work, too, none of the female clerks would lift a ledger for him these days.

Julia had also been blond. Tall, slim and blond. Like Bianca. Like Claudia, dammit. Ethan scowled at the microfiche reader. He had no sense when it came to women packaged that way.

At least he'd taken care of one potential complication. If he ever saw the tall, slim, blond Ms. Barone again, he'd be too busy ducking to get into any trouble with her.

It was after four when he left the courthouse, too late to hit the Suffolk County records. He'd mostly drawn negatives in Middles.e.x-no record of any lawsuits, no marriages or divorces, no property taxes paid. He'd struck it lucky in one way, though. Five years ago Norblusky had registered his will with the county. It left all his worldly goods to his sister, Sophia Anne Lamont. Best of all, Ethan had an address for her, one that matched a Charles Lamont in the phone book.

He whistled a tune from The Little Mermaid as he headed for Joe's car. The sun was still around but on its way down, washing the streets with that slanted, golden light that always made him think of faded photographs and Oreos. He used to slam in through the back door after school, hoping for Oreos. His mother hadn't been much for baking, but she'd kept a package of cookies in the pantry just for him.

Until he was nine, that is. Everything had changed that year.