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asking for information about people who bought them."
"What about people who paid cash and there's no record of their buying them?"
"I never said investigation techniques were perfect," she returned, smiling. "We use what we can get."
He frowned. "Those numbers, it shouldn't be that hard to isolate a telephone number, should it? You
could narrow it down with a computer program."
"Yes, but there are so many possible combinations, considering that we don't even have the area
code." She groaned. "And we'll have to try every single one."
He pursed his lips. "The car, then. Are you sure the person who owned it didn't have a connection to
the murder victim?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Ever considered a career in law enforcement?"
He laughed. "I did, once. A long time ago." He grimaced, as if the memory wasn't a particularly
pleasant one.
"We're curious about the car," she said, "but they don't want to spook the car's owner. It turns out that
she works for a particularly unpleasant member of the political community."
His eyebrows lifted. "Who?"
She hesitated.
"Come on. I'm a clam. Ask my boss." DIANA PALMER 63
"Okay. It's the senior U.S. senator from Texas who lives in San Antonio," she confessed.
Harley made an ungraceful movement and sat back in his chair. He stared toward the window without
really seeing anything. "You think the politician may be con- nected in some way?"
"There's no way of knowing right now," she sighed. "Everybody big in political circles has people
who work for them. Anybody can get involved with a bad person and not know it."
"Are they going to question the car owner?"
"I'm sure they will, eventually. They just want to pick the right time to do it."
He toyed with his coffee cup. "So, are you staying here for a while?"
She grimaced. "A few more days, just to see if I can develop any more leads. Hayes Carson wants me
to look at the car while the lab's processing it, so I guess I'll go up to San Antonio for that and come
back here when I'm done."
He just nodded, seemingly distracted.
She studied him with a whimsical expression. "So, when are we getting married?" she asked.
He gave her an amused look. "Not today. I have to move cattle."
"My schedule is very flexible," she assured him.
He smiled. "Mine isn't."
"Rats."
"Now, that's interesting, I was just thinking about rats. I have to get cat food while I'm in town."
She blinked. "Cat food. For rats?"
"We keep barn cats to deal with the rat problem," he 64 THE MAVERICK
explained. "But there aren't quite enough mice and rats to keep the cats healthy, so we supplement."
"I like cats," she said with a sigh and a smile. "Maybe we could adopt some stray ones when we get
married." She frowned. "Now that's going to be a problem."
"Cats are?"
"No. Where are we going to live?" she persisted. "My job is in San Antonio and yours is here. I
know," she said, brightening. "I'll commute!"
He laughed. She made him feel light inside. He finished his coffee. "Better work on getting the bride-
groom first," he pointed out.
"Okay. What sort of flowers do you like, and when are we going on our first date?"
He pursed his lips. She was outrageously forward, but behind that bluff personality, he saw something
deeper and far more fragile. She was shy. She was like a storefront with pi�atas and confetti that sold
elegant silverware. She was disguising her real persona with an exaggerated one.
He leaned back in his chair, feeling oddly arrogant at her interest in him. His eyes narrowed and he
smiled. "I was thinking we might take in a movie at one of those big movie complexes in San
Antonio. Friday night."
"Ooooooh," she exclaimed, bright-eyed. "I like science fiction."
"So do I, and there's a remake of a 1950's film playing. I wouldn't mind seeing it."
"Neither would I."
"I'll pick you up at your motel about five. We'll have dinner and take in the movie afterward. That suit
you?"
She was nodding furiously. "Should I go ahead and buy the rings?" she asked with an innocent
expression. DIANA PALMER 65
He chuckled. "I told you, I'm too tied up right now for weddings."
She snapped her fingers. "Darn!"
"But we can see a movie."
"I like movies."
"Me, too."
They paid for their respective meals and walked out together, drawing interest from several of the
caf� patrons. Harley hadn't been taking any girls around with him lately, and here was this cute CSI
lady from San Antonio having lunch with him. Speculation ran riot.
"They'll have us married by late afternoon," he remarked, nodding toward the windows, where
curious eyes were following their every move.
"I'll go back in and invite them all to the wedding, shall I?" she asked at once.
"Kill the engine, dude," he drawled in a perfect imi- tation of the sea turtle in his favorite cartoon
movie.
"You so totally rock, Squirt!" she drawled back.
He laughed. "Sweet. You like cartoon movies, too?"
"Crazy about them," she replied. "My favorite right now is Wall-E, but it changes from season to
season. They just get better all the time."
"I liked Wall-E, too," he agreed. "Poignant story. Beautiful soundtrack."
"My sentiments, exactly. That's nice. When we have kids, we'll enjoy taking them to the theater to see
the new cartoon movies."
He took off his hat and started fanning himself. "Don't mention kids or I'll faint!" he exclaimed. "I'm
already having hot flashes, just considering the thought of marriage!" 66 THE MAVERICK
She glared at him. "Women have hot flashes when they enter menopause," she said, emphasizing the
first word.
He lifted his eyebrows and grinned. "Maybe I'm a woman in disguise," he whispered wickedly.
She wrinkled her nose up and gave him a slow, inter- ested scrutiny from his cowboy boots to his
brown hair. "It's a really good disguise," she had to agree. She growled, low in her throat, and smiled.
"Tell you what, after the movie, we can undress you and see how good a disguise it really is."
"Well, I never!" he exclaimed, gasping. "I'm not that kind of man, I'll have you know! And if you keep
talking like that, I'll never marry you. A man has his principles. You're just after my body!"
Alice was bursting at the seams with laughter. Harley followed her eyes, turned around, and there was
Kilraven, in uniform, staring at him.
"I read this book," Kilraven said after a minute, "about a Scot who disguised himself as a woman for
three days after he stole an English payroll destined for the turncoat Scottish Lords of the
Congregation who were going to try to depose Mary, Queen of Scots. The family that sheltered him
was rewarded with compen- sation that was paid for centuries, even after his death, they say. He knew
how to repay a debt." He frowned. "But that was in the sixteenth century, and you don't look a thing
like Lord Bothwell."
"I should hope not," Harley said. "He's been dead for over four hundred years!"
Alice moved close to him and bumped him with her hip. "Don't talk like that. Some of my best friends
are dead people."
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