The Mosaic Murder. Lonni Lees

found this world far more appealing than the one that buzzed around mindlessly beyond its walls. Mary Rose had come to the conclusion that Armando was just sneaky by nature. She’d known his type over the years, even bedded a few. His secretiveness merely added to the mystique and fun of the game.

      Crazy Jake re-entered the room, took Mouse by the elbow and steered her over to Armando’s shelf. Armando joined them and Jake handed him a fistful of wadded up bills as Mouse reached for the statues. She put four of them into her purse as Armando counted the money and slipped it into his pocket. Three more people lined up by Armando and he quickly sold five more. What had been full shelves at the beginning of the night were now half empty.

      Calypso floated into the room, her eyes flitting about with the attention span of a kid with ADD. She put the brakes on her erratic dance and jiggling breasts. Like a sputtering helicopter running out of gas she landed next to Mary Rose.

      “This is getting boring,” said Calypso standing next to her. Once again she’d struck out with Armando. One of the few who had. “Boring, boring, boring.”

      Mary Rose looked up at her. “You’re perfectly right, my dear. I was just thinking as much myself. Could you give me a ride home perhaps?”

      “I’ve got a gig later at The Oasis,” she said, doing a few hip thrusts to accentuate the point.

      “Would that give you enough time to share a drink? And perhaps a little weed?”

      “I wouldn’t miss it,” she said as she helped Mary Rose to her feet.

      The two women bade their farewells and walked arm in arm out the door and into the heat of the night.

      * * * *

      Maggie Reardon kicked off the covers and the cat, then fell back to sleep. The night had been restless, mainly due to the heat but also because thoughts of Marty were giving her monkey brain. They kept swimming around in her head and banging against her skull like balls careening around a pool table. As soon as she’d doze off another thought would jolt her awake again. She’d pegged him as a lot of things during their short affair, but his determination to win her back was both unexpected and a bit unnerving. She’d figured him weaker than that. But maybe it was that very weakness that was luring him back. Maybe he needed someone strong standing beside him to hold him upright. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Or maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was at all. You think you know somebody but then you start to peel away the layers and discover you don’t know them at all. But that’s how it always is. People show you what they want you to see and keep the rest hidden under lock and key. Maybe she was no different. She hid things too. It was safer that way. Maggie was a good judge of people; you have to be when you’re a cop. That’s what keeps you alive. But this new wrinkle in Marty’s character, or lack thereof, had her doubting herself. She could see right through people on the job, but when it came to her men she had a giant blind spot.

      Plus she didn’t like the fact that she was still physically attracted to him. Those blasted hormones!

      Don’t be silly, she reassured herself. You’re jumping to conclusions and blowing this all out of proportion. Most of her ex-boyfriends ran in the other direction as fast as they could. And they never looked back. But this time a rejected lover shows up at the door with flowers, for God’s sake! Most women would be flattered.

      But Maggie wasn’t most women.

      She slept fitfully, waking up at the smallest of noises. More than once she thought she heard something outside the window, arose, and aimed the flashlight into the darkness. Nothing was there. But she felt edgy just the same. She told herself it could have been a passing coyote or javelina. Or pods falling from the green palo verde tree and onto the dry ground. It could have been anything. Or it could have been nothing at all.

      So she wrote it off and went back to bed.