Truer words had never been spoken, Cate thought, as she swallowed a bubble of laughter. She tried not to look at either man's face, because if she did she knew she'd lose it completely. Yodeling goobies? Sheila was in fine form.
Evidently she wasn't the only one trying not to lose it. Calvin sidled toward the stairs, carefully not even glancing at her. "I - uh - I'll just go put this lock on the attic door," he said, and all but bolted up to the second floor.
Cate drew a deep breath, then blew it upward in an attempt to cool her hot face. "Let's go into the den. My mother should have the uproar quieted in a minute."
Marbury was chuckling as she led him into the back den. "They must keep you on your toes."
"Some days more than others. Today is one of those days," she-said ruefully. Thank God, the uproar from their bedroom had subsided as the lure of making plans to go to Mimi's house must have outweighed the entertainment of shaking goobies.
To her everlasting gratitude, Marbury didn't ask what had been going on upstairs, but then that must have been fairly obvious. He'd also been a little boy himself, once. She didn't want to think about him doing anything even remotely like that. She wanted to think of Marbury strictly as a law enforcement officer.
"I've already taken Mr. Harris's statement," he said, and abruptly Cate saw the pitfalls of making any statement at all, because she didn't know exactly what Calvin had told him. Had he told about bashing the other guy, Huxley, in the head? She took a gamble that, he hadn't, and in tact she hadn't seen him do it, so she started at the beginning and even told about having thought someone was listening to Neenah and her talking about the two men and her suspicions about them.
When she finished, Marbury sighed and rubbed his eyes, fie looked tired, she realized; he must have had a lot on his plate, but he'd still taken the time to come out here and take their statements. "These two are probably long gone. You didn't see anything else of them yesterday, did your"
Cate shook her head. "I should have called you sooner yesterday," she admitted, "but I just didn't think of it. We were okay but kind of stunned, if you know what I mean. Everyone stood around talking about it, and the twins were listening, and I - " She spread her hands helplessly. "If I had, you could have cut them oil at the pass, so to speak."
"I could have brought them up on charges, yeah, but they'd have made bail, walked, and we'd never see them again. I hate it, but the county doesn't have the resources for us to spend a lot of time looking for out-of-state felons, especially when no one was hurt and nothing was taken except a suitcase that didn't belong to you anyway. Arc you sure nothing of value was in the suitcase?"
"The most valuable thing was the pair of shoes, and I put them in there myself. They weren't originally in the suitcase."
Marbury flipped his pad closed. "Thai's it, then. If you see them again, call immediately, but they got what they came for, so I think they're long gone."
With the distance of a night's sleep between now and then, Cate agreed with him. She was much calmer today, and beginning to wish she hadn't asked her mother to take the boys home with her, but she had started that train rolling, so she would let their plans proceed, since the boys were so excited about going to visit Mimi.
Shrieks abruptly splintered the air, and Cate, long used to the different qualities in her children's yells, interpreted these as shrieks of joy. "They must have spotted Mr. Harris," she told Marbury. "They love his toolbox."
"That's understandable," he said, grinning. "A boy, a hammer - what's not to love?"
They went out of the den and watched Calvin coming down the stairs, preceded by the twins who jumped and danced in front of him. "Mommy!" Tucker said, spotting her. "Mr. Hawwis let us hold his dwill!"
"Drill," Cate automatically corrected, meeting Calvin's gaze, which was as calm and steady as always.
"Drill," Tucker repeated, grabbing the hammer loop on the side of Calvin's pant leg and tugging at it.
"Stop pulling at Mr. Harris's clothes," she said, "before you tear them off."
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she felt her face begin to heat. What was wrong with her? She hadn't blushed in years, but. it seemed as if she'd done nothing but blush since yesterday. Everything seemed to have a double meaning, or seem overtly sexual, and, yes, the prospect of tearing Calvin's clothes off definitely seemed sexual.
The realization stunned her.
Calvin? Sexual?
Because he'd saved them yesterday? Was she casting him in a heroic role and, in the time-honored male-female way, subconsciously responding to that display of strength? She'd taken some anthropology courses, because they'd seemed interesting, so she knew the dynamics of sexual instincts. That had to be it. Women responded to strong, powerful, or heroic men. In caveman days, that had meant higher chances of survival. Women didn't have to do that now, but the old instincts remained; how else could one explain the allure of Donald Trump for so many women?
The rationalization relaxed her. Now that she knew what was causing this unusual sensitivity, she could deal.
She introduced the twins to Marbury, and of course they immediately noticed his pistol and were wide-eyed with awe that he was a policeman, though they were disappointed he wasn't wearing a uniform. At least they were distracted long enough for Cate to ask Calvin, "How much do I owe you?"
He fished the receipt for the lock from his pocket, and gave it to her. Their fingers brushed, and she fought a quiver that wanted to shake her entire body, as abruptly she remembered those strong hands holding the shotgun, his finger tightening on the trigger. She also remembered the way he'd held her and Neenah afterward, his arms warm and reassuring around them, his lean body surprisingly hard and sturdy inside the baggy coveralls.