Chasing a Blond Moon(107)
“You mean a murder?”
“A murder.”
She became animated. “I had nothing to do with a murder. I had a little fun is all.”
“You got Fahrenheit to steal cable.”
“He never said he stole it. Said he could lay his hands on some.”
“For what?”
“Not my idea,” she said, getting up and walking to an island in the kitchen where a bottle of vodka stood.
“It was like a big game, ya know?” she said. “Just some fun.”
Service took the bottle and put it on a counter, out of her reach.
“Outi, listen to me! You got comped into a room as part of the Gold Feather Club.”
“I’m a good customer,” she said defiantly.
“My understanding is that Gold Feathers do more selling than spending.”
Outi Ranta went back to her chair and sat down. “I knew when Honeypat showed up this would go in the tank. She was a big help when Onte died. I owed her for that, hey.”
No tears, no breaking voice. Outi Ranta seemed to be a very tough woman. “Honeypat and I go way back—to high school. We dropped out, went with men. We didn’t like school.”
“High school where?”
“Detour.” This was on the far eastern tip of the peninsula, across from Drummond Island.
“You’re Tribal?”
“Same as Honeypat.”
He didn’t ask if she had been a prostitute.
“I left the life when I met Onte,” she said. “Met him in Windsor. He didn’t care about my past.”
“Why Fahrenheit?”
She rubbed her fingers together. “Onte left the business in bad shape. I needed cash to pull it out.”
Did this qualify as greed? Service wondered.
“You did this for Honeypat?”
“Her idea. She said I could make some money and have some fun, like the old days. And I was ready.”
“She asked you to get cable?”
“Everything was her idea.”
“Was Limpy involved?”
Outi Ranta made a sour face. “That animal? No way.”
Service was not so sure. “Where’s Honeypat now?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“Don’t have a clue,” she said. “How’d you get to me?”
“Cameras at the casino,” he said. “They tape almost everything.”
“I told Honeypat that, and she said there was no way anyone would ever know it was me. Am I goin’ to jail?” She looked directly at him, her eyes challenging and pleading.
“Not if you help me. If Honeypat makes contact, you call me first thing and you don’t tell her we’ve talked. Can you do that?” He put one of his business cards on the table.
“I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Then help me,” he said. She had received stolen goods and there was probably more, but if Honeypat had set up the whole thing, Outi was just a minor player. With his intercession, the prosecutor might agree to go easy on her.
“You really have to help me to help yourself, Outi.”
“Yeah, like I’m supposed to trust a cop?”
“You don’t have much choice.”
“Honeypat,” she said angrily. “I knew better than to let her into my life again.”
He left her in the kitchen and went out to the truck. Nantz looked at him. “Are we going inside for a ménage à trois?” She was grinning.
They went straight up to bed, took off their clothes, and fell on the bed.
He woke up in the middle of the night. Nantz was sitting up next to him, light from the hallway illuminating her breasts in a pale yellow glow.
“Did we?” he asked.
“You fell asleep,” she said.
“I’m awake now.”
Her hand touched him. “That is a distinctly provable fact. I will try to be gentle.”
“How am I doing?” she whispered after several minutes. “Wonderful,” he said, wincing. Maridly’s idea of gentle was somewhat different from that of other women he had known.
26
Service awoke to find Newf where Nantz should have been. When he looked at the clock and saw that it was noon, he kicked off the covers and limped downstairs. He had more aches this morning than when he went to bed. He smelled something cooking, and Newf smelled it too as she bulled past him, nearly knocking him down the stairs.
He went into the kitchen, looked at the pot on a front burner, sniffed.
“White wine onion soup,” Nantz said. “Twelve minutes to touchdown.”
She put on a lavender oven mitt decorated with pale blue and yellow forget-me-nots, turned, hugged him, patted his butt, and gently hipped him out of the way. He stood with her, watching her stir in julienned carrots and remove a cookie sheet from the oven. She cooked as efficiently and confidently as she flew a plane. There were thick pieces of toast on the sheet and the scent of garlic engulfed the room. She took off the oven mitt.