Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) by Virginia Brown Page A

scalp. “Still got a way with the ladies, though.”
    “You’re a rascal, Mr. Grinder,” she said, and apparently he heard that and seemed pleased by it.
    “I sure am.” He clacked his false teeth together in what may have been an invitation, so Harley took the elevator up to the second floor to find out what Tootsie was doing.
    Tootsie looked up at her with a lifted brow. “What’s up, baby?”
    “Name it. You still have on makeup. You look like a raccoon. Good show last night?”
    “Great show. I vamped it up, did my Cher routine and sang Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves . I rocked. You should have come.”
    Harley sat down in Tootsie’s office chair to watch him connect wires to the older model computer on the desk. “I was a little busy. Life’s been crazy since Thursday night.”
    “Honey, life’s always crazy for you.”
    “Now, I don’t know why you’d say something like that.”
    “A murder in a design shop, guy hanging off moose antlers, what d’ya think?”
    “Elk horns. He was hanging off elk horns.” Harley stared glumly at Tootsie. “What are you doing here? I thought you were usually off on Sundays.”
    “Hooking up the DSL. The ogre thought it was time we stepped into the twenty-first century. Not that this dinosaur of a computer will help that much. Not enough RAM or gigs.”
    “Uh huh.” Her interest in computers rated pretty low. RAM and gigs meant goats and pitchforks as far as she was concerned. She barely listened as Tootsie rambled on about memory and software for a few minutes. Then he looked up at her.
    “So what are you doing here? I already gave your runs to Charlsie. She’s doing Graceland and Tupelo today. A fan club from England.”
    “I came by to get my paycheck. I was a little distracted Friday and forgot to pick it up.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Darcy’s mixed up in the murder. She was there.”
    Tootsie plugged in a wire then ran a hand through his hair to shove the long strands out of his face. “Think she did it?”
    “I don’t know. She says she has an alibi, but I saw her car leaving the parking lot right before I found Harry. She told the police that she was at her Junior League meeting.” Darcy’s affair would remain a secret for now. She had to have some standards.
    “Maybe she was.”
    “Maybe, but how many cars like hers in Memphis still have a Kerry-Edwards bumper sticker? Most people don’t continue to advertise that they voted for the losers.”
    “So, maybe someone else was driving her car.”
    Harley looked at him. “Damn. Of course. That makes sense—you’re a genius, Tootsie.”
    “Only pointing out the obvious, baby.” He smiled a little when she made a rude comment. “You’re too close to it. Darcy’s your family. My advice, let the police handle it.”
    “Now you sound like Bobby and Mike.”
    “Both reasonable men.”
    “Both cops.”
    “Not necessarily a bad thing.”
    “You only say that because the imaginary Steve is a cop.”
    Tootsie grinned. “That doesn’t make it less true, baby.”
    “You know, you’re at your most annoying when you’re smug.”
    “Not at all. I can be far more annoying. Now move out of my way so I can see if I’ve got this hooked up right.”
    Harley rolled close to the file cabinets while Tootsie played with the computer. It made sense. If Aunt Darcy hadn’t been in her car, someone else had to have been. But who? It’d have to be someone she trusted, because she’d never loan anyone else her car. That left only a very few possibilities. Starting with Mandy and Maddie, the gruesome twosome. Her bet was on Madelyn. But then . . . she hadn’t even considered that her uncle might figure into this. Maybe because he seemed like a timid mouse most of the time, one of those mild-mannered men who seemed to fade into the background except when he was expected to ante up some money. Darcy almost couldn’t be blamed for having an affair, but Harley had always thought Paul a really