Ralphie's Wives

“At this point I’ll buy Darla’s story.” Phoebe felt relieved for Darla’s sake. And yeah, she knew she was too protective of Darla. But so what? Ralphie would have wanted her to be. Rio added, “I ran into Boone this morning at the bar when I dropped off my bike.”

“So he told me. He said he thought you were ripping us off.”

“We got past that, Boone and me.”

“He said he took you in the bar and gave you some coffee and a microwaved cinnamon roll.”

“That’s right. I tried to get the guy talking about himself.”

“Learn anything?”

“Nothing you didn’t already tell me. He and Darla are from Arkansas. Boone moved to Texas a couple of years ago—and then came here for Darla’s wedding. He liked Oklahoma so much, he stayed on.”

“He knew you were pumping him for information.”

“The ones who are hiding things always do.”

In the center of the table stood a red napkin holder and red Fiestaware salt and pepper shakers. With great care, Phoebe straightened the napkin holder and lined up the salt and pepper beside it. “Boone also told me that he thought your glasses were fake and he had a sneaking suspicion you might be up to no good, nosing around into stuff that’s none of your business. He said you asked way too many questions.”

“Busted.” Rio chuckled low, an intimate sound, one that shivered down through Phoebe like a physical caress. “And what did you say to Boone when he told you all that?”

“I reminded him that, as of Ralphie’s death, you’re my business partner. I said I gave you a key and he should keep in mind that you’re now his boss as much Ralphie ever was.”

“How much is that?”

“Seriously? Not a lot. Over the years, Ralphie pretty much left the running of the bar to me. He was gone so much anyway and he always had some deal going that demanded all his attention. Whenever it was time to count up the cash, though, he’d get his hand out fast.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“So I told him, more than once.”

Those dark eyes held a teasing light. “Before Boone showed up, I was about to go inside and have a long, in-depth look around.”

“Why shouldn’t you? It’s half yours.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

“And what else did you do today, besides parking your bike and having coffee with Boone?”

“I got a car. I changed hotels.” He shoved one of his cards across the table, face down. On the back was the name of a residence hotel over on Northwest Expressway, including a room and phone number. “I hooked up with an associate who’ll help me go door to door, interviewing people around the area where Ralphie got hit.” He pushed another card her way, one for a local detective agency: Red Wolf Investigations. He pointed at the name in the lower right-hand corner. “Mac Tenkiller. In case he comes looking for me, you can trust him.”

“Thanks.” She glanced up from the card and into his eyes. They stared at each other, unspeaking. It was no hardship for Phoebe, staring at Rio. He looked good and she felt…what? The word came to her: safe. She felt safe around him. Safe and all shook up, both at the same time. Already she was getting used to seeing him at her kitchen table. Before you knew it, if she didn’t watch herself, she’d be offering to tie on an apron and whip him up a little something special.

He asked, “Did you have time to make that list of people who knew Ralphie?”

“I made a list. I can’t say it’s complete. Ralphie knew a lot of folks.”

“Give me what you’ve got.”

“Hold on.” She rose. “I’ll get it.”

Phoebe’s house had three bedrooms and a bath all in a row on the east side of the house. The living areas—front room, dining room and kitchen—were lined up on the west side. She used the middle bedroom, accessed through a bath and through the central dining area, as a home office. In the office, she scooped up the manila envelope she’d left on her desk and whirled to return to the kitchen.

Rio was right there, in the door to the dining room. She gasped at the sight of him.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He lounged against the door frame, hard arms crossed over his deep chest.

“I had a cat like you once,” she grumbled, whacking his chest with the envelope. “His name was Shadow. Big and black, with a real attitude. I never knew when he’d come creeping up on me. I’d turn around and there he’d be. Watching me with a smirk on his face.”

Rio took the envelope. “So I remind you of your gatito….”

Phoebe realized she liked it when he spoke Spanish. It was a beautiful language, soft and musical, and it sounded real nice coming out of that sexy mouth of his—not that she was telling him that. “My what?”

“Your kitten.”

“Shadow was no kitten.”

“Gato, then. That’s good, right? A woman loves her cat.”

“You wish. I finally had to tie a bell around that cat’s neck so I’d know when he was nearby. He died a little over a year ago. Now and then, I think I see him, in the corner of my eye. But he is gone, gone, gone.” Just like you’ll be, soon enough.

“Hey,” Rio said again, too gently. He touched her chin. The contact was electric, sending little bolts of excitement zipping all through her.

She met his eyes and tried to pretend he didn’t thrill her in the least. “I put copies of Darla’s and Boone’s employment applications in there. Bernard’s, too.”

“Great.”

She wanted him to understand…what? She wasn’t quite sure. She said quietly, “I do want to know, Rio. I want to know how Ralphie died. Since we talked this morning, I’m only more certain about my priorities here.”