When I got home, I ate the remainder of the Thai food for dinner, while Saul tried to stay unobtrusive and watched TV. In my now habitual attempts to win the Good Housekeeping award, I hand-washed the dishes when I was finished, then put everything away. By that time, my feet were aching pretty bad from all the walking I’d done earlier, and I decided I’d have to spend the rest of the evening vegging in front of the TV, even with Saul there.
I had just sat down on the love seat—declining to sit beside Saul on the sofa—when my phone rang. Saul had an old Seinfeld rerun on, and someone cued the laugh track immediately after the first ring. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear my TV was mocking me.
Saul was obviously still trying to win me over with his world’s-best-roommate act, because before I mustered the energy to haul myself to my feet to answer the phone, he picked it up and tossed it to me. I caught it easily and checked the caller ID. It was the front desk. I’d been hearing from them way too much lately.
“Hello?” I said wearily. If anyone was hoping to pay me a visit right now, I fully intended to send them away.
“Ms. Kingsley?” the clerk asked. He had a raspy smoker’s voice, and I realized it was Carl, one of the nicest of the building staff. Too nice, sometimes. Engaging him in conversation could kill an hour of your time, easy.
“Yes.” Keeping responses to monosyllables was always wise when talking to Carl.
“Is your car a blue Civic with license plate EXY 1902?”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. What now? “Yes,” I responded reluctantly.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Kingsley, but one of the other residents reported it had been vandalized. Do you want me to call the police for you?”
Great. Just great. I’d ask him how bad the damage was, but since he wasn’t the one who saw it, I assumed he wouldn’t know. “No, thanks, Carl. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, sounding genuinely distressed on my behalf.
I heard him take a breath, and instinct told me he was about to sympathize with me some more. Knowing him, about fifteen minutes more. So I cut him off before he got started.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I said. “I’d better go check and see how bad it is.” Then I hung up without saying good-bye.
I fought an urge to fling the phone against the wall. Maybe it was time for me to consider taking up residence in some remote little shack in Tibet. A life of peaceful seclusion might be just the thing. But knowing my life, trouble would follow me all the way there.
“What’s up?” Saul asked me, turning off the TV without having to be told. I gave him a reluctant brownie point for that.
“Apparently, someone’s vandalized my car.” I dragged myself to my feet. “I’m going to go see how bad it is.”
He stood up. “I’ll come with you.”
My usual inclination would be to tell him to stay here, but I was feeling beaten down enough not to bother tonight.
We rode the elevator in silence down to the parking level. It was about eight o’clock in the evening, which wasn’t a busy time for garage traffic, so we had the place to ourselves. Saul’s sneakers made squeaky new-shoes sounds as we climbed the ramp up toward where I’d parked. I couldn’t see my car yet because the vehicle next to it was one of those super-sized SUVs that made cars like mine look like toys in comparison.
When we got a little closer, I saw crumbles of broken glass, both red and clear, littering the floor. Great. I’d tried to hope that the vandalism had entailed only some damage to the paint job or some nasty messages written in soap on the windows. You know—the kind of stuff you don’t have to pay to fix. But it looked like I’d be forking out money for new taillights, if nothing else.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Please let it be nothing else, I prayed. Then we got around the SUV, and I stopped in my tracks.
“Holy shit!” I said with what little voice I could muster.
To say my car had been “vandalized” was the understatement of the century. It looked like an army of gorillas armed with baseball bats and tire irons had attacked it.
Every window was shattered. The tires had all been shredded to ribbons. There were so many dents in the doors, they resembled that “hammered copper” look that was popular in decorative plates and vases. Inside, the dashboard had been smashed, and stuffing oozed out of huge rents in each of the seats.
But bad as all that was, it wasn’t half so disturbing as the message that had been painted in what looked suspiciously like blood on the car’s hood. It was short, simple, and to the point.
Die, bitch.
I hugged myself and tried to keep my teeth from chattering as Saul pulled his cell phone off his belt and dialed 911.
CHAPTER 13
As soon as Saul got off the phone with 911, he called Adam, which meant that even after I’d answered five thousand thirteen questions and been given the hairy eyeball by what seemed like thirty cops, the ordeal wasn’t over.
I recognized Adam’s car when he drove by, but he didn’t stop to talk with his fellow men in blue. Instead, he parked in the visitors’ area and waited for all the excitement to die down. I was very aware of him sitting there in the dark, watching, and I’m sure Saul was, too. The officers never noticed. That would have really sucked if Adam had been the homicidal maniac who’d been making my life just that much brighter lately.
Okay, it’s true, we weren’t sure the guy was a homicidal maniac. As far as we knew, he hadn’t killed anyone. Yet. But it sure did look like he was escalating, and I didn’t want to know what his next move would be.
When the last police cruiser’s taillights disappeared down the ramp, Adam finally got out of his car and headed in our direction. He was wearing heavy black motorcycle boots with sinfully tight black jeans, a faded blue T-shirt, and a black sport coat. Ah, the off-duty look. Gotta love it. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Saul giving him a similar once-over. Adam had the grace to pretend not to notice either of us ogling him, but I didn’t believe for a second it had escaped his attention.
Without saying anything, he examined the car, which the police had kindly left for me to dispose of. They’d have towed it away if the love note had actually been written in blood like I’d first thought. Turned out it was just paint, which was a relief.
Adam circled the car, looking at it from every possible angle while Saul and I watched. What he thought he’d see that the others had missed, I don’t know. Bored with watching Adam and his scrupulous examination, I let my eyes wander. Beside me, Saul was grinning faintly, a look of mingled lust and amusement in his eyes. I followed his gaze and saw the mouthwatering back view Adam was giving us as he bent over to scrutinize the broken taillights. If he’d wiggle his ass a bit, he’d look like he was auditioning for Chippendales in that pose. And he’d probably be hired in a heartbeat.
“Would you like me to get you a pole?” I asked Adam. Then I slapped myself on the forehead like a character in one of those V8 commercials. “Oh, wait, you already have one.”
Saul snickered, and Adam straightened up to look at us. He seemed genuinely puzzled, though I could have sworn he was purposely teasing Saul and me. I guess he’d been looking for evidence after all.
He figured out my comment after a brief glance at Saul’s face, and he rolled his eyes. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”
I decided to just pretend I hadn’t said anything. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“Let’s go upstairs to talk about it, shall we?” he suggested.
“Good idea,” I agreed. I was sick to death of looking at the ruin that had once been my car. I had a feeling my car insurance company was going to drop me. My last car had been destroyed by the fire at my house, and now here was another one ruined in less than two months.