He pulled up my jeans and turned me again. Pulling my hands away from doing up my fly, he checked the palms.
“You’re clean,” he announced.
“Thank you,” I said it snippy, as I should, as anyone should.
His hands ran up my sides, forcing my arms over my head and he put my shirt back on me. I finished my zip, buttoned my jeans and hooked my belt buckle.
“Was that really necessary?” I snapped.
He smiled The Smile, pleased with himself.
“Nope, but it was fun.”
He kissed my nose and then strode out of the room.
I was on his heels, staring daggers at his back and plotting his murder when we made it to the kitchen.
“She doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Lee told Hank and I could swear I heard Bobby do a mini-snort-laugh.
Hank’s eyes were narrowed. “Do we need to send someone over to check Ally?”
I shook my head, all innocence and light, a halo could be shining over my head. “Can’t imagine why you’d need to do that.”
“Would you like me to give you half an hour to answer that question so you can call Ally?”
I looked Hank in the eye. “Why would I need that?”
“Thank God,” Hank breathed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling to make sure God knew he was taking his gratitude seriously. Then his eyes focused on me. “Anything else you want to say?”
I thought about it and then said, “Just, when you find out whose blood it is, remember there are all kinds of breaking and entering. There’s the naughty kind and the nice kind.”
Lee’s arm shot out again, this time his hand hooked around my mouth and he pulled me head first into his side, hand still covering my mouth.
“Hey!” I said but it came out, “Hrr.”
Bobby had walked into the living room and I could hear his quiet laughter, Matt was staring at the ceiling as if it was fascinating.
Hank looked from me to Lee then back to me.
“I’ve been lookin’ into Tex MacMillan and he has a record. He’s a Vietnam Vet who didn’t deal when he got home and he got into some deep shit with drugs, not takin’ them, vigilante justice against the ones who sold them. He didn’t handle prison well, that kind of confinement was not his gig, f**ked with his head. He got out and has barely left his porch in twenty years. Every once in awhile, he’ll aim some buckshot at someone who tries to steal a car radio on his block, but won’t go so far as nailing them. It won’t go so good for him if he’s involved in a homicide and he’ll never make it through another jail sentence, and as an ex-offender, even with a nice B and E, he might be facing one.”
Lee kept me where I was with his hand over my mouth. Hank kept watching me.
“You got something for me that might help Tex out?”
I pulled Lee’s hand off my face and said, “I know Tex, I do my shopping at Mr. Kumar’s corner store down the street from him. Tex wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless you’re Nixon. He doesn’t like Nixon much. Since Nixon’s dead then the rest of the human population is pretty safe. If he’s messed up in this some way, I’ll be happy to stand as a character witness.”
I could hear Bobby’s laughing in the living room. Matt was leaned over on his elbows on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room, his head hanging down and his shoulders shaking. Lee pulled me deeper into his side with his arm around my neck.
“This isn’t funny,” Hank said quietly to me. “This is a homicide. A man is dead, his brains splattered against a wall.”
Just as quietly, I said, “I know.”
Hank cut his eyes to Lee.
“Tell me she’s done.”
Lee’s face was serious.