The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(10)
“I promise.”
Without permission, my mind wanders to Officer Herbal Tea and his crazy theory centered around the same comic book. By some weird twist of fate, the original Hooded Falcon is in my life yet again. I can only wonder at what change he’ll bring this time.
CHAPTER 4
“You have got to be kidding me.”
My front door stands open the next morning, and there, like my own Groundhog Day, is Officer Herbal Tea. Trogdor yaps like mad, and I have half a mind to move the leg I’m using to block the door and let this guy’s shins get nipped by my dog. I can’t even hear OHT’s response over the barking.
“Trog! Inside! Now!” I point and watch with satisfaction as his Wonder Bread corgi butt trots into the living room. Even after five years together, it still makes me laugh to watch his little purposeful stride.
My gaze runs over OHT.
“It’s not the pizza! Or Lawrence!” I shout to Ryan in the living room before stepping outside and closing the door behind me. I would much rather have Lawrence at the door, but his afternoon appointments are running late, something about acrylic gel that sounded painful. Instead, OHT and I are nestled on my snug front porch, a little too cozy for my comfort, but what are you going to do in four feet of space?
“Am I interrupting?” he asks, trying to allow me room on the porch and failing miserably. His shoulders look the “lean and fit” type, but right now they feel like the “huge and hulking” variety.
“No, I often greet guests on my spacious veranda. I’m sorry the iced tea is still brewing,” I say before I can catch the snark from coming out. “What? Now I’m under arrest?”
“No, of course not.” He looks uncomfortable and plays with the cuff on his shirt. It’s not cute, I decide. Not even a little bit. “I tried emailing you.”
“It’s a work email. I only check it on workdays.”
“I have additional questions to follow up on. This case is extremely time sensitive.”
“So you came to my house.” I cross my arms over my ample chest. “You have thirty seconds to prove you aren’t a stalker before I call the police. The other police, I mean.”
“I needed to ask a favor. It shouldn’t take much of your time.”
I arch my eyebrow in clear indication of my dubiousness.
“There’s been a development in the case I told you about. I looked up that stuff you talked about. The Hooded Falcon and the Justice Liaison.”
“League.”
“Yeah, League. I’m trying to find some of them to read—”
“Any newsstand will probably have the latest copy. Or Meltdown on Sunset.”
“No, the ones you talked about. The older ones.”
I laugh, my hands dropping to my sides. “Good luck with that. They’re Bronze Age collectibles.” At his look I add, “They’ve been out of print for years and years. Sometimes I have to sit on eBay for months to find one.” I don’t want to be accused of obstructing justice, even if “justice” is taking up an annoyingly large part of my tiny porch.
“So I discovered. Hence the favor.” Sarcasm fairly drips from the comment.
In the interest of divesting my porch of said officer, I decide to play nice. “Okay, don’t get snarky, Herbal T—er, Detective. How can I help you?”
“I’ve looked online, at the library, everywhere. I want to read the one with the scene you recognized, and Google says the only place I’m going to find one is in a private collection. I just happen to know this person who collects comic books and works at a comic book company . . .”
“A stunningly lovely purple-haired person that must be plied with copious amounts of free coffee in order to help you?”
A smirk starts at the corner of his lips and spreads into a quick smile. “So you know her too?”
I pretend to study my aquamarine manicure. Despite a small quickening of my pulse, smugness is most definitely not cute on his tan skin. Definitely not. Even when he’s just agreed that I am stunningly lovely by omission.
“So can you help me?” His hazel eyes are wide and boyish. I find myself swayed by his gaze. Plus, free coffee.
I reach backward for the door handle. “Fine. I happen to know that Genius Comics has some of them in their library. I’ll give you thirty minutes. Why you want to look through them is beyond me. I mean, it’s not like there’s someone out there in a cape and tights trying to be the Hooded Falcon.”
When he doesn’t join my laughter, I roll my eyes. “Oh Jesus, you think there’s a man in tights and a cape.” I lean inside the door, snag my keys off the hook, and yell to Ryan that I’ll be right back.
The muffled noise from inside and the clank of sword fighting tell me he’s forgotten about the pizza and has returned to playing video games. “In the zone,” as I call it. Singular focus. He won’t even notice I’m gone.
“All right, Detective, your vehicle or mine?” I motion to the old-school Schwinn bicycle locked to the outside of the porch, complete with bell and tassels.
He laughs, a good deep laugh with a wide smile that his face wears well. “You are quite the force to be reckoned with, aren’t you? Are you sure you aren’t donning a cape at night?”