Love Can Be Murder

handle. "You're a raving lunatic, and if you ever come around me again, I'll file a complaint."
    "I'm leaving in the morning," he said. "But tonight I'm staying at the Holiday Inn if you need anything."
    She grimaced. "Why, you gutter-minded—"
    "I mean in the unlikely event that Cape shows up."
    "Oh."
    "And in the unlikely event you change your mind about...anything else, here's my number."
    I've got your number.
    The plain white card with simple black lettering glowed in the dim cab light. She snatched it, then opened the door and slid down, twisting her ankle. She cursed under her breath, then limped around the front of the truck to the sidewalk.
    The window zoomed down. "Oh, and one more thing, Roxann."
    She sighed and didn't bother turning around. "What?"
    "Good luck on number thirty-three."
    She whirled and gaped. He held up a sheet of paper between forefinger and thumb. Her life list. Mortification flooded her chest.
    "Give me that." She lunged for the window, but he snatched the list out of reach and had the nerve to grin.
    "Maybe I'll hang on to this little gem as collateral."
    She ground her teeth. "You can't possibly think I'd give you information in return for some stupid list I made in college."
    He pursed his mouth. "I don't know—it has some pretty juicy stuff on it."
    "You're despicable."
    "And you're very ambitious." He looked at the list. "At least you used to be."
    "Just immature musings," she said through clenched teeth. " Private immature musings."
    "If they were so private, you should've been more careful than to lose it outside the ladies' room at the carnival."
    She must have pulled it out of her purse when she removed her keys as they were making their escape. Anger and frustration clogged her throat when she pictured him reading her list, laughing at her. "You...you—"
    "Here." He held the handwritten list out the window. It whipped and curled in the breeze at the end of his long arm. "Take it. I don't know why I thought you'd have a sense of humor about this."
    Another slap in the face. She yanked the list from his fingers and wadded it into a ball.
    "Goodbye," he said, with one arm hooked around the steering wheel. "Maybe I'll see you around." When she didn't answer, he shrugged. "Or not."
    He pulled away from the curb, and she watched until his taillights disappeared. She set her jaw and growled in lieu of screeching at the top of her lungs. As her anger swelled, every muscle contracted, and she stiffened in juvenile frustration, gearing up for an all-out tantrum before she realized how ridiculous she must look. So she settled for banging her fists against her head until she saw stars. Finally, she marched to the house, already cursing Capistrano for the sleep she wouldn't get tonight. He had a lot of nerve saying those horrible things about Carl. And laughing at her dreams.
    The house was dark when she stepped inside except for a night-light Nell had graciously left on near the hallway. She stood in the shadows and listened for signs that Nell was still awake, but didn't hear anything. A touch on her leg sent terror bolting through her until she realized that it was just one of the cats copping a nib. Chester, the one that Nell doted on. Roxann indulged him for a few seconds, then tiptoed into the room she shared with Angora, not sure how she would handle the conversation about Carl. Now that she realized Angora had a crush on him, things could get awkward.
    But the awkward conversation would have to wait because Angora wasn't there. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was only midnight, and the clubs didn't close until one, so she wasn't concerned.
    And she wasn't about to let her imagination take hold of the dirty things Capistrano had said about Carl and run with them. Even if Angora was hell-bent on losing her virginity, Carl was much too noble to take advantage of her, especially considering the girls were related. Roxann lay down on top of the covers, replaying her conversations with Nell and Capistrano. Both of them had hinted that her character judgment was skewed. Was it possible that... no. Carl wasn't a philanderer any more than Angora was a murderer.
    The phone on the nightstand rang, startling her. She picked it up automatically, then remembered she was a guest in someone else's house. "Dr. Oney's residence."
    "Roxann? I... I need to see you."
    Her first thought was that it was Angora, but the voice was wrong, and the wording strange. "Who is this?"
    "Elise." She