Panic Button (24 page)

“Vacation.” I’d switched off the lights in the shop and put up the “Closed” sign,
and I was in the back room grumbling while I retrieved my jacket and purse. Good thing,
otherwise, I never would have heard the scratching on the back door.

A note about logistics here: There is a travel agency upstairs from the Button Box,
and while I generally come and go through the front door of the building that leads
directly into the shop, Emilie, my upstairs neighbor, always uses the back. The door
from my back workroom leads into a postage-stamp-sized hallway, and that’s where the
stairs are, too, that go up to Emilie’s place. From there, the back door opens onto
that little courtyard behind the building.

To my knowledge, Emilie was as good as gold when it came to making sure that back
door was always locked behind her.

Then again, if my theory was right about Angela’s murderer trying to steal the charm
string (and at this point, I wasn’t sure anything was right), the murderer had
gotten in that way—and into the basement—the day Angela was killed.

“Emilie?” I called out, partly because if Emilie was out there and needed help, I
didn’t want to ignore her, but mostly because whoever it was, that person needed to
know I was still around, and the shop wasn’t empty. “Did you lock yourself out?”

No answer.

Except for a tiny rap on the door.

“I’ve already called the police.” Yes, it was a lie, but it was all for a good cause.
I grabbed the broom that sat in a corner by the back door, and holding the handle
like a Samurai sword, yanked the door open and—

“Kaz?”

He hotfooted it into the workroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Boy, am I glad you’re here.” Kaz was breathing hard. He leaned against my worktable.
“I thought I was going to have to break into the place.”

“Security system.” I pointed toward the unit by the back door.

He fought to catch his breath. “Damn, yeah. I forgot. That would have made things
a little tricky. I guess if you weren’t here, I would have just had to go over to
your place.”

“Really?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped back, my weight against one
foot. “Just like that?”

“Well, sure.” Like he actually belonged there, Kaz went over to the fridge, got out
a bottle of water, and downed it. “Thanks,” he said, tossing the empty into my recycle
container. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me a lot. An explanation might be a good place to start.”

“Oh, you mean for…” He glanced at the back door and gave me one of the patented smiles
that had attracted me to him in the first place. Sweet as peaches and as hot as an
August day. It was a heady combination, and I had succumbed in record time. “I didn’t
want to come in the front door,” he simply said.

“Because the front door is too—”

“Public.” He looked in the fridge again. I kept a small stash of yogurt in there,
as well as a carton of orange juice, a loaf of bread, and a limited supply of deli
meat for those days when I was busy and it was impossible to leave the shop. “You
don’t mind, do you?” he asked, but since he already had the bread and the turkey out,
as well as a pack of cheddar cheese slices and a jar of mayo, there didn’t seem to
be much point. He slapped together a sandwich and wolfed down half of it before he
said anything else.

“There’s this guy,” Kaz began.

And I knew exactly where the story was going to end.

“And he’s looking for you because you owe him money.” I threw my hands in the air.

So much for proving to my ex that nothing he did surprised me because he never did
anything surprising. “Well, yeah,” he said, unfazed and starting in on the second
half of the sandwich. “You see, I was up in Wisconsin—”

“Wisconsin?” Call me crazy, but somehow, I’d expected something a little more exotic
to explain his long absence. “All this time, I’ve been looking for you, and you’ve
been in Wisconsin?”

The sandwich partway to his mouth, Kaz stopped. His grin was as bright as the sudden
gleam that twinkled in his dark eyes. “You were looking for me, huh?”

I cursed my slip of the tongue and scrambled. “Not exactly looking. I mean, I was,
but—”

He set down the sandwich and took a step in my direction. “Because you wondered where
I was.”

“Yes.” That much was true, and there was no use denying it.

Another step and Kaz was close enough for me to see the tiny smear of mayo at the
corner of his mouth. “You missed me.”

Remember that whole bit about how crabby I’d been? And how tired? I guess it all sort
of came to a head, so hey, nobody can fault me for snapping. Then again, if anyone
on earth deserved a little comeuppance, it was Kaz. For all the things he was. And
all the things he did. For all the times I’d thought I could change him and that one
life-altering, heart-wrenching moment when I realized I never would.

My smile was as sweet as I could possibly make it when I said, “You’re right, Kaz,
I did miss you.”

I wasn’t imagining it, his shoulders really did shoot back a fraction of an inch.
Kaz has great shoulders. Nice abs, too. In fact, Kaz is the total package when it
comes to the looks department, and he looked especially delicious that night in butt-hugging
jeans and a gray T-shirt with a flannel slipped over it. I almost felt guilty making
him feel so darned self-satisfied.

Almost.

I wiped the smile from my face and added, “It’s hard
not to miss the most annoying person in my life when he’s suddenly not around being
annoying anymore.”

Kaz took the knock in stride. Then again, that’s pretty much how Kaz takes all of
life. Grinning, he backed off and grabbed the rest of his sandwich. “Hey,” he said
before he took another bite, “I’ll take what I can get. At least you noticed I wasn’t
around.”

“So?” He left the turkey and cheese out on the counter, and it was the first I remembered
I hadn’t had lunch. I took one slice of bread and made myself a half a sandwich. While
I was at it, I put on a fresh pot of coffee. “What were you doing in Wisconsin? Who’s
after you? And why?”

I figured it was a long story so I settled myself on one of the high stools next to
the worktable and dug into my dinner.

Kaz made another sandwich. “I was playing cards, that’s all.” He waved away the importance
of that part of the story with one hand. “Some guy got bent out of shape. You know,
because he won, and—”

“You didn’t have the money to pay him what you owed him.”

“It’s not like that.”

It was. I knew it because I’d heard the story a thousand times and seen that same
look on Kaz’s face. When he lies, his nose twitches just a little bit. It twitched
now.

“I have every intention of paying him,” he said. Twitch.

A couple bites of sandwich, and I was beginning to feel a little more human. Maybe
I wasn’t as tired and frustrated by my case as I was simply hungry. “So what was in
Wisconsin?” I asked.

“The card game.” I never keep things like potato chips around because when they are,
I eat them, but Kaz checked the cupboards and I knew that’s what he was looking for.
He likes crunch with his sandwich, and pickles and celery don’t fill the bill. He
settled for a box of Triscuits and brought it back to the table with him, fishing
out crackers two at a time and popping them into his mouth.

Like I said, I was feeling the teensiest bit mean-spirited so it was only natural
for me to wait until his mouth was full before I asked, “The card game in that new
tent you bought?”

Kaz stopped chewing. But only for a second. He swallowed and smiled, pointing my way
with a cracker. “You went to my apartment.”

“Well, what did you expect?” I got a Pepsi out of the fridge for Kaz. It was Diet.
He would complain. Too bad, so sad. “I called, Kaz. Plenty of times. You never returned
my messages. I figured—”

“You couldn’t live without me?”

I was just getting milk out of the fridge for my coffee and it was a good thing the
carton was closed, or the look I shot Kaz would have curdled its contents. “If you
must know, I figured you were dead. You know, on account of how somebody was sick
and tired of your lies.” I poured the milk into my mug, put the carton back in the
fridge, and slammed the door. “I was worried. At least for a while. I finally felt
better when I realized what I was really feeling was disappointment because somebody
got the satisfaction of offing you before I could.”

“That’s a good one.” Kaz laughed and ate a few more
crackers. “Say, now that you know where I live and that your key works—”

“Don’t.” I stopped him with a look that would have flash-frozen any normal human being.
“It’s been a long week, and I’m not in the mood, and besides, Kaz, all kidding aside,
I really was worried. OK, yeah, all right, read whatever you want into that. At least
I’ve got the guts to admit it. I figured something bad had happened to you. Damn,
but when it does, I’m the one who’s going to be left to plan your funeral, and I’ll
tell you what, Mitchell Kazlowski, that is not one job I look forward to.”

He slipped off his stool and poked his hands into his pockets, the picture of remorse.
“I know you’re serious when you use my full name. Sorry. I should have told you I
was leaving for a while.”

“No. That’s just the thing. Don’t you get it? You shouldn’t have told me. You should
never have to tell me where you’re going, or what you’re doing, or anything else.
It’s just that…I don’t know, I guess it’s just that when you didn’t come around, it
was a change, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I was scared.”

“And I was inconsiderate.” Words he’d never spoken in the three turbulent years of
our marriage. I wondered if Kaz was finally growing up. Or maybe I was just feeling
gracious now that I knew his lifeless body wasn’t at the bottom of some hole somewhere.
“I’m sorry. I mean it. I should have at least called and told you. I just…” He rolled
back on his heels and glanced away. “I figured, you know, that if I told you what
I was up to, you’d tell me I was nuts.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You got that right.” He patted the stool I’d been sitting on earlier as a way of
telling me to take a seat. I did, and he rummaged around in the cupboards again. This
time, I knew he was looking for cookies. Kaz likes something sweet after dinner. He
settled for a box of cinnamon-covered graham crackers. “I was doing some reading,”
he said. “And yeah, I know, that sounds a little weird. I’m not exactly a scholar.
I mean, not like you. But I saw this article in the paper about this place up in Wisconsin
and it kind of caught my interest so I went to the library and—”

“You know where the library is?”

His smile was stiff, but he ignored the question. That was OK, it deserved to be ignored,
I just couldn’t help getting in the zinger.

“I did a little research. About this town in Wisconsin called Prairie de Chien. It’s
right on the Mississippi River, a pretty little place. Anyway, there’s a legend that
says that back in 1832, four soldiers were bringing the payroll to a nearby fort,
and they were ambushed by Indians. The soldiers were all killed, but before they were,
they managed to bury their saddlebags filled with gold coins. I thought…” He scraped
a hand over his chin. He obviously hadn’t shaved that day; a shadow of stubble accentuated
the planes and angles of his face and made him look rugged and weathered.

Kaz looked at me through his so-thick-they’re-wasted-on-a-guy lashes. “You’re gonna
laugh.”

“Won’t,” I promised.

His shoulders dropped. “You should. It was a dumb idea to begin with. I was just thinking…you
know, sort
of about what you said earlier. How I’m always coming around, asking you for help.
I was thinking that you…well, Jo, you’ve managed to make something of yourself. You
worked on that goofy movie and it paid off. You’re getting royalties every month.
And you’ve established yourself with the button crowd as, you know, an expert. And
you’ve got the shop and…” He didn’t so much shrug as he twitched his shoulders. “You’re
kind of an inspiration.”

Good thing I had just swallowed the last of my turkey sandwich or I might have choked.
I took a sip of coffee to wash down the sudden knot of emotion that blocked my breathing.
“So you’re, what, going to open a button shop in Wisconsin?”

Kaz laughed. That, of course, was what I was hoping for. Kaz’s natural state is laid
back to the nth degree; seeing him being introspective threw me for a loop.

When Kaz was in the room, I could not afford to lose my sense of equilibrium or my
perspective.

“No button shop,” he said and raised his eyebrows to let me know he was kidding when
he added, “I wouldn’t want to give you that kind of competition.”

I grabbed my mug and wrapped my hands around it. “So why were you in Wisconsin?” I
asked.

“To look for the treasure, of course.” Before I could say anything—even though I didn’t
know what to say—he blurted out, “See, I knew you’d laugh. I knew you’d think it was
crazy.”

I set my cup on the table. “I’m not laughing. And I didn’t say a word about it being
crazy, did I?” I thought
back to my quick visit to Kaz’s apartment and nodded. “That explains the metal detector.
But not…” I gave him what I hoped was an eagle-eyed look. “But not the card game.”

Did I expect more than for him to shrug the whole thing off?

Not really, so I wasn’t disappointed when he did and said, “I was camped at this really
nice park. I’d look for the treasure during the day, come back to my tent at night.
You know, Jo…” Thinking, he cocked his head. “I’m a city boy through and through,
but I sure liked being out there under the stars.”

I did know; I’d thought the same thing about Ardent Lake. Of course, that was before
I found out the whole town was a sham. These days, I wouldn’t be surprised if I discovered
that canopy of stars over the city was as much of a painted backdrop as the Victorian
charm.