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if you saw anything out of the ordinary. I didn't want you to be alarmed when they showed up asking for you." She wracked her brain but hadn't noticed anyone except the neighbors outside. Shaking her head, she frowned. "I didn't see anything unusual. But you know, why don't you ask the neighbor who s in love with his lawn if he saw anything suspicious. He spies on everyone in the neighborhood all the time. Rumor has it he watches us with binoculars. It's hard to believe someone could steal anything with him on the prowl all the time." "Yeah, the guy isn't very shy, is he?" She had to smile at that. Her neighbor had no problems expressing himself. "So you're stranded?" Worry settled on her. "How're you getting to work?" "Rental car - so long as they leave their grubby mitts off that until they track down my Betty Lou. Which reminds me, don't leave your car unlocked." "Thanks for letting me know. I'd better tell Gigi before she has a heart attack." He saluted, pivoted sharply on his heel, and headed to the front door. "Don't wait up for me tonight. I'll be late." 79 Ashley Ladd Her smile fell and she tried to tack it back in place lest he see. "Can you take Marshall out and keep him busy till everyone arrives? If you dare let it slip, I enjoy slow torture." "Moi let anything slip? I'm the soul of discretion, sweetie. Marshall won't have a clue - leastways not from me." He flicked her chin as if he didn t have carnal knowledge of her, as if she were his little sister. "Does this mean you ll do it? I'm forgiven?" she ventured, holding her breath. "I ll do it. But forgiven for making me the object of your childish bet? He screwed up his face and thought hard, while holding his chin. "No. Not that easily. You'll have to do some heavy groveling to get back on my good side." Could she play with his heart? To what extent did she want to? "You're a strange man, Mr. Miller." "You don't know the half of it." He dug his car keys out of his pocket and jangled them by his side. "You need some groveling lessons, cause that wasn't it." "Kirsten, Dear!" Gigi called in a singsong saccharine voice. "You have visitors." "That's them. I'm gone." Bradley sprinted out the door before Kirsty could spit out another word. He disappeared around the corner so fast she wondered if she d imagined his visit. His bizarre behavior was beginning to worry her. She trudged back into the store front, wondering why Bradley had high- tailed it away so fast. Didn't he want to get his car back? Or was he hiding something from the cops? * * * * * Brad didn't trust Cole not to show up. His best friend lived to give him a hard time. Yet again, maybe he should have stuck around to make sure that his buddy didn't put Kirsty through an inquisition. Now that Cole had found his 80 American Beauty perfect woman and was about to descend into daddyhood, he'd become an obnoxious match-maker. He was going to get the scum who stole his car and it better not be stripped or a fish motel at the bottom of some canal. It didn't make sense to him that a chop shop next door would steal a car and put it in their own driveway, but he'd start his investigation there nevertheless. Did that mean that this chop shop had franchises around the city? Maybe up and down the East Coast? Or maybe they hauled it over to Naples on the West Coast. If they stole a car in one neighborhood, did they transport it to their buddy in a different neighborhood? Or maybe there was a rival car thief ring who either didn't know there was a chop shop next door or they were aiming at stealing the stolen cars? Brad's thoughts ricocheted around in his brain, trying to figure out the mystery. Theory was fine, but proved nothing. He needed cold, hard facts. So he snooped around his neighbor's yard when the guy went out. He copied down the etched bin numbers. Then he set up a wire tap. Then he asked Haley to run a computer query of all the stolen cars in the three county vicinity of Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach, including all the suspected and known chop shops. Not content to sit and wait for information to come to him, he contacted his secret source, a scraggly but scrappy con artist named Lenny, who could be coerced to divulge such information in exchange for either immunity or a few hundred bucks. He drove down to Lenny's hideout and snuck into the old motel /filthy rat-trap by the beach, and waited in the dark hoping Lenny wasn't pulling an all nighter or out of town. He pushed aside old newspapers, girlie magazines, and beer bottles and made himself at home on the couch. When his eyes adjusted to the dim room, he noted cigarette butts swimming in stale liquor next to a plateful of chicken bones and congealed mashed potatoes. What seemed like hours later when Brad was stifling a yawn, Lenny banged into the room, his arm around a cute young thing, his lips taking liberty with her 81 Ashley Ladd throat. "Just you and me, Baby," Lenny crooned, pushing her tank top off her shoulder Brad stood, clearing his throat. "And me. How you doin', Lenny, old pal?" Lenny jumped nearly three feet in the air and squealed. Holding his hand to his throat, he gulped. "That you, Mueller, you dirty rotten scoundrel?" Light flooded the room, blinding Brad for the first few seconds so that he had to squint to see Lenny's face. The stench of stale beer had intensified ten-fold since the man had ambled into the room and Brad tried not to breathe too deeply lest he get drunk on the fumes. "What's goin' on, Len?" Shiny black curls bounced around the woman's waist. Miles of curvy leg protruded from a mini skirt that barely covered her womanly treasures. Manicured fingers that had seen better days wrapped around Lenny's bony wrist. "You in trouble again?" Lenny scowled deeply and shushed her. "Wait for me outside, doll, would ya? I'll get rid of him," Lenny's squinty eyes narrowed and he did a double take, "or her, in a few." When she still clung to him, he pushed her toward the door. "Go on. Give us men some privacy." When she'd left, pouting prettily, her ample curves jiggling, Brad focused on his old friend. "You don't look too happy to see me, Leonard. I wonder why? You guilty of somethin' again?" Bright color suffused Lenny's face and his Adam's apple protruded. His pulse raced as if it were in the Indy 500. "I'm clean, man." He held his hands out, palms flat, and backed up a step. "I don't need no trouble. I don't know nothin'." Brad advanced on the squirrelly thief, clapping him on the back, and then rested his arm around his thin shoulders. "Who do you think you're kiddin' here? I know you. You know all the dirt in this town." Lenny sniffed him and snickered. "What is that pretty feminine perfume you bathed in? You smell so sweet, today." His glance slid over Brad deliberately as well. "And you look so pretty in pink." 82 American Beauty Brad glared at him and moved away. "Well, yeah, I'm undercover. I'll send you an invitation to the bon fire when I burn these things. I need your help so I can hurry up and get back to normal." He chafed in his black nylon slacks and hot pink blouse. Lenny eyed him fearfully, grimacing. "I'd rather go back to the pokey than
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