Drop Dead Sexy(38)

Catcher peeked his head around the refrigerator door. “I’m starving.”

“It’s stealing,” I countered.

With a scowl, Catcher replied, “Since he’s dead, I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be needing it.”

“That’s so unprofessional.” I swept my hands to my hips and cocked my head at him. “Can’t you get in trouble for that?”

A feeling of paranoia caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. I quickly glanced up at the ceiling to see if I could see any mounted cameras. Randy had been such a security freak I wouldn’t have been too surprised if every room in his house was wired up. I exhaled a relieved breath when I didn’t see anything.

“Jesus, it’s not like I’m looting his house for electronics. I’m just making myself a quick sandwich. It’s all going to have to be thrown out anyway.”

“You’re impossible.”

Catcher’s head disappeared back into the fridge. He returned with a container of luncheon meat and Coke. “For a skinny dude, Randy sure did eat a lot. He also must’ve spent some of his concoction money on food because he’s got some highbrow shit in there.”

“He does?” Although my stomach rumbled at the sight and smell of the turkey, I couldn’t bring myself to eat Randy’s food. I would just have to wait until I got home.

After tossing back a few slices of smoked turkey, Catcher replied, “Hell yeah. Imported cheeses and even some caviar.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I hate caviar.”

Catcher paused in rolling more turkey up and gave me a curious look. “Hmm, I would have never pegged you to be a connoisseur of caviar.”

“When I was in college, I worked a side job waiting tables at the Athens Country Club. This guy I was crushing on dared me to eat some off one of the plates, so I did.” I shuddered. “To this day, I could still throw up when I think of the way they popped and crackled in my mouth. Not to mention the crush never really gave me the time of day.”

Catcher grinned at me as he finished off the turkey. “I, myself, have never had any, and after your glowing review, I think I’ll pass on swiping one of the jars.” He cleaned his hands with a napkin and then threw the turkey container away. After popping the top on the Coke can, he said, “And the guy you were crushing on was an absolute dick. One for being such an immature prick that he dared you to do something like that, and two, for not staking a claim on you the moment he met you.”

I fought the urge to call for the smelling salts since I felt all swoony from Catcher’s statement. Instead, a dippy smile formed on my lips. “Do you always flatter the women you’re with?”

“Only if they’re deserving.”

Warmth rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly mumbled, “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” After chugging down the Coke, Catcher let out the most unattractive belch before walking over to the basement door. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied.

Once he flipped on the light switch, Catcher pounded down the stairs with me close on his heels. “Nice digs,” he remarked.

The basement was one large room with only one door, which led outside and not to Randy’s concoction lair. It was the epitome of a man cave with a giant-screen TV, a pool table, and even a bar. Of course, the two things that piqued my interest was one wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the 1950’s era juke box.

As Catcher stood in the middle of the room, he scratched his chin. “There has to be a secret passage of some sort.”

"The bookcase?" I asked, as I patted around some of the shelves.

"That would seem too obvious." He jerked a thumb at the massive oil painting on the wall. "Just like I'm sure that doesn't swing back to reveal a tunnel."

Since I wasn't entirely convinced, I kept shifting things on the bookshelf. Catcher went over to the light switch. When he plunged the room into darkness, I whirled around. "What the hell are you doing?"

Catcher took a flashlight out of his kit. “If there are cracks in the walls, they’ll be easier to see with the lights off.”

“If you say so,” I replied uneasily.

It wasn’t completely pitch black considering some light was creeping in through the one set of windows as well as the glass on the door. Catcher started focusing the beam of the flashlight on the walls. He covered the front wall closest to the stairs before walking over to the bar. “Did you know there are three parts to a bar?”

“Um, no. I didn’t.”

Catcher nodded. “The front, back, and under bar. The front is where your customers congregate and drinks are served. The back is where most of the bottles are stored along with a mirror. And then the under is below the front bar and where drinks are mixed.”

“When did you become so knowledgeable about the interworking of a bar?”

“I did some bartending during my last year of college.”

Catcher stepped behind the front bar. He started patting down the wall where the wood met the back bar. He gripped one of the ornate carvings and pulled, sending the back bar swinging out. Instead of a gaping hole in the wall, there was a door.

“Holy shit!” I cried, as I scurried over to join him.

“Eight years as an agent, and this is my first secret passage.” He turned to me and grinned. “I feel like I’m ten and stuck reading some of the Hardy Boys mysteries at my grandparents’ house.”