Jennifer Crusie - GETTING RID OF BRADLEY

When Zack was gone, Anthony smiled at Lucy. “He means well. He just has no tact.”

Lucy bit her lip. “I’m not stupid. I just didn’t believe him when he said somebody was trying to kill me.”

“That’s all right. I didn’t, either. It’s the most annoying thing I know about Zack. He makes these stupid assumptions, and then he turns out to be right. Fortunately, he’s also a great guy. You just have to get used to him.”

“Oh, I could get used to him,” Lucy said. Anthony heard a note of wistful enthusiasm in her voice and sank back down into the big soft chair again as she went on. “I just don’t know why he’s always grabbing me and yelling at me. I’m a very calm, logical, unemotional person. It really isn’t necessary.”

Anthony nodded. “He worries about you.”

Lucy bunked and Anthony sat back and thought, I wonder if Zack has noticed that she blinks every time she thinks of something she can’t say aloud. I bet he has.

I bet he’s noticed just about everything about her.

“He didn’t even call yesterday,” Lucy went on. “He forgot me. He put me in this house, and then he forgot me.”

Anthony shook his head. “No, he didn’t. We had some problems yesterday. Big ones. A woman was shot” He watched her closely as she flinched at the news.

“That’s awful.”

“It was. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Zack look worried.”

“Why?”

“He thought it was you.”

“Oh.” Lucy blinked again.

Bingo. She was a darling, and she liked Zack. If Zack moved in with her for a month, he’d be a goner, and Anthony could stop worrying about him. It was perfect, although he might have to start hiding evidence to keep Zack there for that long.

Now all he had to do was convince Lucy.

“You know, Zack really needs to solve this case,” Anthony said. “He’s been depressed lately, even thinking about quitting the force. If he could just relax a little, it would do him a world of good. Moving in with you for a while may be just the thing he needs. A calm, secure environment to grow up in.”

Lucy grinned. “You make him sound like a foster child.”

“That’s pretty much the way I think of him. And by the way, I know he’s obnoxious, but please don’t hit him again. He’s still got a concussion from the last time.”

“He does?” Lucy said, appalled. “He told me he wasn’t hurt.”

“Well, he thinks he’s Superman. Take care of him.”

Lucy looked at him suspiciously on his last remark, but he smiled back at her, as artless and open as the sun, and finally, she smiled, too.

“All right,” she said.

Anthony’s smile widened.

All right.

ZACK DUMPED HIS BAG on the quilt-covered spool bed in the attic bedroom. The ceiling was slung low and canted under the eaves, the wallpaper was scattered with tiny yellow flowers, and the little windows at the end of the room were patterned with diamond panes. “This is a great room,” he told Lucy, who’d followed him up the stairs. “If you had any sense, you’d be sleeping up here.”

Lucy took an extra blanket from the closet and draped it over the end of the bed. “I know. I wanted to put our bedroom up here, but Bradley said the one downstairs was bigger.”

Zack felt the same spurt of annoyance he was beginning to feel every time Lucy mentioned Bradley in the same breath with herself. “Why’d you listen to him?”

“Well, it was going to be his bedroom, too,” Lucy said, and Zack felt really annoyed.

He opened a drawer, unzipped his bag, and upended it into the drawer to unpack it. “Bradley is an idiot.”

Lucy shrugged. “Not really. It is warmer downstairs. You have to leave the door to the stairs open at night or this place gets really cold.”

Zack stopped trying to shove everything into the drawer. “How do you know?”

“I started sleeping up here in October. Bradley and I…had a disagreement.”

“Good for you.” Zack felt much better, and then he felt like a fool for feeling much better. Aside from that flash of lust he’d given in to in the driveway, he had no interest in this woman besides a passing sense of responsibility. All he had to do was find out what was in her damn house, get rid of it, and possibly arrest her ex-husband for attempted murder. Then he’d never have to see her again.

Lucy brushed against his arm as she moved beside him to spread his shirts evenly into the drawer. She smelled faintly of flowers and warmth.

Never seeing her again suddenly didn’t have much appeal.

He left the drawer open and stepped away from her. “Let’s start searching this place. Where’s the best place to start?”

“I threw all of Bradley’s stuff into the basement,” Lucy said, shoving the drawer closed. “You probably want that first.”

“Threw? Literally?”

“I stood at the top of the stairs and pitched it. It felt wonderful.”

Zack grinned at her suddenly, and Lucy looked startled. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Naw. I just thought you were dead, and it threw me for a minute.”

“A minute?” Lucy said. “That’s all?”

“Well, then you showed up and the car exploded. I haven’t had much time to dwell on things lately.” Zack took her shoulders and turned her toward the stairs.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the basement, so I can solve this case, and you can get rid of me.”

LUCY FELT GUILTY when Zack whistled at the wreckage at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll pick it up.” She started past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Look out. The stair rail’s gone.”

“I know. The chair fell through it.”

“The chair?”

“The chair I shoved down here.” Lucy peered cautiously over the broken rail. “See? It sort of rolled to the right, back there.”

“You threw a chair down these stairs?”

“I felt like it. Are we going down there or not?”

“Stay close to the wall, behind me.” Zack went down the stairs. “Don’t fall over the edge, or I’ll be picking splinters out of you for a week.”

Lucy put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You know, I’m not helpless.”

Zack ignored her. He dragged the smashed cartons into the middle of the basement and shoved the chair upright. “Nice chair.”

“No, it’s not.” Lucy followed him down the stairs cautiously. “It’s ugly.”

“That’s just the upholstery. Cover that up and it’s a good chair.”

“It’s too big.”

“It’s a man’s chair.” Zack deepened his voice. “A manly chair for a manly man.”

“It was Bradley’s.”

Zack shrugged. “Okay, so it’s not that great. Are these all the boxes?”

“Just those three. And there’s nothing in them. I packed them up so I know. Just papers and junk.”

“Papers? I love papers. Do these papers have numbers on them?” Zack sat down on the floor next to the first box and pried at the layers of tape that sealed it. “Did you seal these for life? There must be twenty pounds of tape here.”

“I was a little enthusiastic.” Lucy turned back to the stairs. “Let me get a knife.”

“Good. Get me a beer while you’re at it.”

Lucy stopped halfway up the stairs. “I don’t have any beer.”

“Yes, you do. It’s in your refrigerator. I put it there myself. Can you cook Mexican?”

“I suppose,” Lucy said coldly. “Why?”

“I got some stuff when I picked up the beer on the way here. Nachos, olives, cheese, that kind of stuff.” Zack continued to poke at the box while he spoke, missing Lucy’s frown. “I figured you could cook. You look like the type. Could I have that knife, please?”

Right between your ribs, Lucy thought and blinked. Then she turned and went upstairs to get him his knife and beer.