The Sweetheart Mystery. Cheryl Ann Smith

the windows were open. Several curls whipped around her face, causing her to pull strands out of her pale pink lip gloss. Likely the same gloss that she’d worn on her shirt the other day.

      His mind went into the gutter as he imagined things she could to with that mouth, and none of them included eating food or drinking beer. Nope, he was so far down in the mental gutter he couldn’t see daylight.

      Noah knew he shouldn’t think of her as anything other than someone he worked for. However, years hadn’t dimmed the heat he’d felt for her in high school, and another eleven years would probably be equally unsuccessful in the regard, too.

      If anything, her maturing from a cute eighteen-year-old into a woman, with all the changes that came with growing confident in herself, made him want her more.

      Damn. Why had he taken this case? Oh, right. He didn’t want her to languish the next twenty years in a Michigan prison. It was all the fun memories he had issues with.

      Yep. Trouble brewed ahead.

      “What do we do next?” She broke in before he could get a full-blown hard-on. Thank God.

      He tapped his fingers on the console. “I assume contacting Gerald’s parents won’t help. They probably know less than Estelle.” Since they had no preliminary file to consult, he’d start fresh. “Why don’t you tell me as much as you know about Covington? With his grandmother offering zip clues, and his parents thousands of miles away, you’ll have to produce some leads.”

      “What can I tell you?” She turned onto the US 23 ramp and punched it. He held his breath when she merged in the tight space between two semi-trucks. “We weren’t exactly friends.”

      “But you knew him and heard gossip. You’d be surprised by how much you’ve learned by being in his orbit.”

      * * * *

      Noah was right. Or at least he made sense. Gerald was a gossip magnet. He might as well have posted all his indiscretions on social media, as the man never kept his cheating secret. And it wasn’t like Muskrat employees didn’t share the dirt on him, though Harper largely kept out of gossiping. She had better things to do, like keep the cheerleading team organized and on time for events.

      Still, it was impossible not to hear the whispers.

      “Where do you want me to start?” A loud scraping noise filled the car like the rusty undercarriage had finally given up and dropped off. “What’s that? Did I hit something?”

      Noah looked back and Harper, through the rearview mirror, saw sparks shooting up behind the car.

      “I think we’re losing the bumper,” he said. “Pull over.”

      Luckily it was late morning and there wasn’t any work traffic on the freeway. She eased the car onto the shoulder and partially into the grass, hoping to give them enough room so they wouldn’t get run over by gawkers.

      They got out. She mentally calculated how much money she had in her account. She’d fight to the death against paying Cheap Rentals one darn dime, even if the whole car fell apart on her watch.

      When she rounded Harvey, the bumper hung on by only a twisted coat hanger. The rest of the repair work had failed. One side dragged on the ground and had scrapes in the chrome.

      “What do we do now?” She was no expert in auto body work but this didn’t look good. “Can you fix it?”

      “I could if we were at the shop.” He lifted the loose end and manipulated the bumper. “Check the car for bungee cords or rope. We might be able to make a temporary fix.”

      Harper looked everywhere, then rejoined him. “Nothing.”

      Noah dropped the end with a clatter. He glanced around, then nudged her away with one hand. “Step back.”

      She moved to the grassy edge. He lifted a booted foot and brought it down hard on the bumper. She startled. The rusted coat hanger snapped. The bumper clattered to the ground.

      “What are you doing?” she cried out.

      He lifted the part, walked a dozen feet down the shoulder, and launched the trashed bumper into the ditch.

      “That’s littering!” She ran to his side and tried to spot the bumper. All she saw was a pile of road work signs and an orange and white barrel lying on its side. Beside those were bright orange trash bags being swallowed up by overgrown weedy grass and pricker bushes. “Cheap Rentals will charge me for that if we don’t get it back.”

      There was no way she was paying for damage.

      Noah had another plan. “First. See those bags. A clean-up crew will get the bumper when they retrieve the trash bags. Second, we already lost that hubcap, and the passenger side view mirror fell off when we hit that pothole about two miles back.”

      At her surprised expression, he added, “I didn’t tell you because I know you’d want to dart around speeding traffic to retrieve it and get yourself run over.”

      She groaned. “I’m going to owe more on repairs than the damn car is worth.”

      “The lost mirror was worth more than the car.”

      For the second time that day, he got pierced with the death glare. Not that it worked. If she did have Jedi powers, then he’d feel it burn through his chest and incinerate the speed limit sign behind him.

      Instead he grinned.

      “Thanks for stating the obvious,” she said. “Could you try and be a little more helpful?”

      Noah shook his head. “Nope. We should drive my truck.”

      Smart ass. “Get in the car.”

      They covered the next few miles with her grumbling under her breath and refusing to look at him. She frequently glanced in the rearview mirror, watching for flying auto parts.

      Her companion couldn’t be counted on for keeping her informed in that regard. At this point, she’d risk her neck in traffic to retrieve something as small as a lost bolt or even the antennae to keep the car intact.

      With Noah out, she had to fix the problem herself.

      Harper drove to the nearest hardware store and walked inside, leaving Noah in the car. She bought six rolls of duct tape in a multi-pack.

      Ripping the packaging open with her teeth, she ignored him exiting the Yugo. She bent near the front bumper and pulled off a long strip of tape.

      Oddly, he didn’t comment as she wrapped several feet of tape around the front bumper and up around the left headlight. The second headlight came next, then the trim down the driver’s side. From there, she moved on to the reflectors, the taillights, and the rear window wiper.

      She was sure she heard snickering but refused to acknowledge his presence. He could laugh all he wanted. She was keeping the rest of the car together. When she finished taping down anything she saw that could possibly fall off, she chucked the five and a half unused rolls in the back seat and stood back to admire her work. “Perfect.”