When he stepped from the storage room, he didn't recognize the women with Kevin, but the taller of the two bore a striking resemblance to Gabrielle. She wore her long auburn hair parted in the middle and pulled back on the sides, held in place with thin strips of beaded leather.
"Joe," Gabrielle said, looking across her shoulder at him, "this is my mother, Claire, and my aunt, Yolanda."
Joe offered his hand to Gabrielle's mother and found it clenched in a tight grasp. "It's nice to meet you," he said as he gazed into blue eyes drilling him as if she could see through his forehead.
"I've met you before," she informed him.
No way. Joe would have remembered meeting this woman. There was a strange intensity about her that he wouldn't have forgotten. "I think you may have me confused with someone else. I don't believe we've met."
"Oh, you didn't meet me," she added as if that cleared up the mystery.
"Mother, please."
Claire turned his hand over and stared at his palm. "Just as I suspected. Look at this line, Yolanda."
Gabrielle's aunt stepped close and bent her blond head over Joe's palm. "Very stubborn." She raised her soft brown gaze to him, then looked sadly at Gabrielle and shook her head. "Are you sure about this man, dear?"
Gabrielle groaned, and Joe tried to pull his hand from Claire's grasp. He had to tug twice before she finally released him.
"When were you born, Joe?" Claire asked.
He didn't want to answer. He didn't believe in all that zodiac crap, but as she stared at him with that spooky gaze, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he opened his mouth and admitted, "May first."
Now it was Claire's turn to look at her daughter and shake her head. "And a Taurus to boot." Then she directed her attention to Yolanda. "Very earthy. Loves good food and good love. Taureans are the zodiac's sensualists."
"True hedonists. Great endurance, and relentless when focusing on a certain goal or task," Yolanda added to the list. "He's very possessive of his mate and protective of offspring."
Kevin laughed, and Gabrielle's lips pursed. If the two women hadn't been discussing him as if he were potential stud service, Joe might have laughed too. Gabrielle obviously didn't see any humor in the situation, but she couldn't exactly inform her mother and aunt that he wasn't her boyfriend. Not with Kevin standing so near. Joe couldn't do much to help her out, but he might have tried to change the subject if she hadn't opened her mouth and insulted him.
"Joe is not the dark, passionate lover that you think he is," she said. "Just take my word on this."
Joe was fairly certain he was a passionate guy. He was fairly certain he was a good lover, too. He'd never had any complaints. She just might as well have come right on out and accused him of being a lousy lay. He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. "Careful or you'll give me performance anxiety," he said, then he chuckled as if even the thought of performing badly was ridiculous. "Gabrielle's a little mad at me for suggesting that cleaning house and cooking is women's work."
"And you're still breathing?" Kevin asked. "I suggested she be in charge of cleaning the bathroom here at work because she's a girl, and I thought she would deck me."
"Naw, she's a pacifist," Joe assured Kevin. "Aren't you, sweet cheeks?"
The look she turned on him was anything but nonviolent. "I'm always willing to make exceptions for you."
He squeezed her tight against him and said, "That's what a man likes to hear from his woman." Then before she could utter a word and accuse him again of being a demon from hell, he pressed his mouth to hers, trapping her anger with his kiss. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she raised her hands to his shoulders. Before she could shove him away, he let her go, and her attempt to push him looked more like a grasp to keep him close. He smiled, and, for a few brief seconds, he thought her resentment might overcome her belief in nonviolence. But being the true pacifist she professed, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Then she turned her attention to her mother and aunt and ignored him completely.
"Did you come to take me to lunch?" she asked.
"It's only ten-thirty."
"Brunch then," she amended. "I want to hear all about your vacation."
"We need to pick up Beezer," Claire said, then looked at Joe. "Of course you're invited. Yolanda and I need to check your life energy."
"We should test him with your new aura-meter," Yolanda added. "I think it's more accurate than-"
"I'm sure Joe would rather stay here and work," Gabrielle interrupted. "He loves his job. Don't you?"
Aurameter? Jesus H. The nut didn't fall far from the family tree. "That's right. But thank you, Claire. Maybe another time."
"Count on it. Fate has given you someone very special, and I am here to make sure you take care of her gentle spirit," she said, her gaze so directed the hair on the back of his neck stood up again. She opened her mouth to say more, but Gabrielle took her arm and walked with her toward the front of the store.
"You know I don't believe in fate," Joe heard Gabrielle saying. "Joe is not my fate."
Kevin shook his head and let out a low whistle once the door shut behind all three women. "You barely dodged that bullet, my friend. Gabe's mother and aunt are real nice ladies, but sometimes when they get to talking, I expect to see their heads spinning like Linda Blair in The Exorcist."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah, I think they channel Elvis, too. Magnify Gabrielle by about a thousand, and you get her relatives."
For once he didn't think Kevin was lying. He turned to the fenceman and slapped him on the back as if they were old buddies. "She might have weird relatives; but she has great legs," he said. Time to get to work. Time to remember he wasn't there to pin his confidential informant against the wall and feel her soft body pressed to his, making him so hard that he forgot everything but her breasts poking his chest and the sweet taste of her mouth. Time to befriend Kevin, then nail him for the theft of Mr. Hillard's Monet.
The next morning Detective Joe Shanahan walked into Fourth District Court, raised his right hand, and swore to tell the truth, in The State v. Ron and Don Kaufusi. The Kaufusi boys were three-time losers facing a long stint in prison if found guilty of a string of residential burglaries. The case had been one of the first assigned to Joe shortly after he'd been transferred to property crimes.
He took his seat in the witness box and calmly straightened his tie. He answered questions from the prosecutor and the boys' public defender, and if Joe hadn't already had a prejudice against defense attorneys, he might have actually felt sorry for the lawyer assigned this case. It was a real slam dunk.
Seated behind the defense table, the Kaufusis looked like sumo wrestlers, but Joe knew from past experience that the brothers had balls of steel and were as loyal as Old Yeller. They'd conducted a real gutsy operation for several months before being arrested exiting a home on Harrison Boulevard. Every few weeks, the boys would park a stolen U-Haul next to the back door of a particular home they'd cased. They'd load the truck with valuables like precious coins, stamp collections, and antiques. In one instance, the neighbors across the street had watched, believing the brothers were professional movers.
When Don had been searched, the arresting officer had found a Wonder Bar in the pocket of his twill work pants. The tool's distinctive marks had matched a dozen others left in wooden door and window casements throughout the city. The prosecutor's office had gathered enough direct and circumstantial evidence to put the brothers away for a long time, and yet they'd refused to name their fence in exchange for leniency. Some might believe their unwillingness to cooperate had something to do with honor among thieves, but Joe didn't think so. He figured it probably had more to do with good business. The relationship between thief and fence was symbiotic. One parasite fed off the other parasite to survive. The brothers were betting on a short prison stay and already planning their return to business. It didn't pay to alienate a good fence.