Page 23 of Blood Moon

“Bowie.”

“No surprise there. Heard y’all had quite a showdown this morning. Hate I missed it. What was it about?”

“Same ol’.”

“The Mellin thing?” Frank ran his palm over a greasy comb-over that did nothing to conceal his shiny, pink bowling ball of a head. He had jug ears that were equally pink. “The boy is stubborn, I’ll give him that.”

“The boydeserves to be horsewhipped.” Tom related what had happened at the New Orleans airport.

“A woman, huh?” Frank guffawed as he smacked his chewing gum. He was never without a wad of it in his mouth, which he never closed while chomping. “Maybe he’s just trying to get laid.”

“He doesn’t have any trouble getting laid, and this isn’t funny, Frank. I want to know what he’s up to.”

“Who was the gal?”

“Her name is Beth Collins.”

“Who’s she?”

“That’s the first thing I want you to find out. The TSA agent said she was booked on a flight to New York. Whoever she is, she’s important to Bowie, or he wouldn’t have jerked her out of the security line and made off with her.”

“Okay. So? She and Bowie had a ring-a-ding. He wasn’t done with her yet. It’s kinda romantic. Like a movie. Outsmarting security, racing down the concourse. Will he make it? Can he stop her? Big tongue swap at the end.”

He leered again and, even though Tom was used to that gaping grin, it still turned his stomach. Unfortunately it was part and parcel with Frank Gray, and he needed this enforcer.

“Bowie may well be in rut,” Tom said, “but he’s not a romantic. And there’s something else that’s worrisome. Awoman’s been calling here for him, and only him. The first time was the day before yesterday, twice this morning.”

Gray stopped grinning. “That shoots my theory all to hell. A new bedmate would call his cell phone.”

Tom nodded. “Bowie played dumb when I mentioned the calls, but if they’re traced back to this Collins woman, I want to know what her connection is to him and why he went to extremes to keep her from leaving.” Tom flapped his hand in the direction of the door. “Get on it.”

“Right now?”

“Drop everything.”

Gray worked his considerable bulk out of the chair. “If it does turn out to be something unromantic, how far do you want me to take things?”

“Bowie’s been a pain in my ass for too long.Fartoo long.” Tom gave him a look that didn’t require explanation.

Gray popped his chewing gum and flashed another misshapen smile. “I’ve been itching for some fun.”

“Don’t expect too much.”

John unlocked his back door and pushed it open, then stood aside and motioned Beth across the threshold into his kitchen. He didn’t like mess, he kept a clean house, but for the first time since he’d moved in, he was embarrassed by his rental, quaintly misnamed a “bungalow.”

It was at the end of a shadowy, potholed cul-de-sac, where similarly run-down dwellings were tucked between moss-laden live oaks, shaggy cypresses, and unidentified brambles. It was the perfect setting for a depressingTennessee Williams drama in which every character was miserable and nothing went right.

As Beth was taking in the unattractive kitchen, Mutt wandered in from the living room. “Who’s this?” she asked.

“He answers to Mutt. His gene pool is murky, but he’s harmless.”

Proving him right, Mutt padded over and sniffed her hand, then gave it a lick. She didn’t jerk her hand back as John would have expected of her. Instead she addressed Mutt by name and introduced herself.

When she bent down to rub his bony head, her slender black slacks that hugged and delineated her shapely bottom were pulled even tighter across the curves, causing John to tell himself for the thousandth time what a bad idea it was to have brought her here. Because when she’d begun explaining the geometry of a blood moon, using phrases like “specific alignment” and being “perfectly positioned,” his mind had drifted away from the relationship between heavenly bodies and had instead entertained the thought of a relationship with her body. Which was also heavenly.

Made uncomfortable by his prurient thoughts, he said crossly, “Come on, Mutt. Out you go.”

Mutt seemed reluctant to leave her stroking hand, and who could blame him? But he ambled over to the door John was holding open. Before going outside, the dog looked up at him with aDid I miss something?expression.