“It’s a little late to call them off,” Rafe said reflectively. “They’re already pretty deep into the plumbing.”
“I don’t believe this.”
She tossed the cordless phone down on the hall table and rushed outside to the car. Winston followed. He leaped into the passenger seat and sat back with an air of anticipation.
“I knew last night was all about Dreamscape,” she told him.
She sailed through the front door of the big house a short time later, ready for battle. Winston trotted in right behind her, greeted Rafe briefly, and began a tour of the kitchen.
Rafe glanced at his watch as Hannah came to a seething halt in front of him. “Six minutes and twenty-two seconds. You made good time.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What is going on here?”
Rafe was saved the necessity of responding to the question by the small, neatly made man who chose that moment to wander out into the hall.
Compact and completely bald, Walter Willis had always reminded Hannah of an android. There was a mechanical precision about his movements that lacked the casual human element. His speech was clipped and crisp. The starched creases in his work clothes never softened. It was as if he had been designed and constructed under controlled, sterile conditions in a high-tech manufacturing plant.
“Hannah.” Walter wiped his hands on a spotless rag that dangled from his belt. “Good to see you again. Heard you were back in town.”
Hannah was amazed by her self-mastery. She managed to veil the fuming expression she knew had been blazing in her eyes. She even summoned up what she hoped looked like a genuinely pleasant smile of greeting.
“Hello, Walter,” she said. “It’s been a while.”
“Certainly has.” Walter turned his head and called to his brother over his shoulder. “Torrance, come on out here and say hello to Hannah.”
Torrance stepped out of the laundry room. His expression brightened instantly. He hoisted a pipe wrench in greeting. “Hey, there, Hannah. Welcome back.”
The Willises were identical twins, but it was easy to tell them apart because, sartorially speaking, they were polar opposites. If Walter had been engineered to precise specifications on a futuristic computerized assembly line, Torrance had been someone’s home garage project.
Rather than shaving off what little hair he still possessed as Walter did, Torrance wore his thin, scraggly locks in a ponytail that stuck out through the opening at the back of his cap. The trailing end of a snake tattoo slithered out below one sleeve. His coveralls were stained with what looked like several eons’ worth of grease, grime, and pizza sauce. The only things that were clean and shiny about him were the tools in the wide belt that he wore low on his hips.
“Isabel always said the two of you would come back for good someday.” Torrance turned to Walter. “Didn’t she say exactly that?”
“She sure did,” Walter agreed. “If she said it once, she must have said it a hundred times. I believe the last time was the day she had us out here to install the washing machine in the laundry room.”
Torrance nodded. “Believe it was.” He winked at Hannah and Rafe. “Told us she wanted to leave everything in good working order for you two.”
Willis shook his head indulgently. “That Isabel. Always did have a real romantic streak.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you two have some plumbing you should be looking at?”
“Plumbing. Whoa. Almost forgot. You heard the lady,” Torrance continued. “Reckon we better get back to work.”
“Right.” Walter’s head jerked once in a mechanical nod. “Plumbing. Listen, you two, don’t pay any heed to the talk that’s going around town these days. Bound to be some for a while, given what happened the night the Sadler girl died and all and now this business with Isabel leaving you the house. But it’ll fade quick enough.”
“Let’s hope so,” Hannah said.
Torrance clapped Rafe on the shoulder. “Just want you both to know that me and my brother here never once thought you’d had anything to do with Kaitlin Sadler’s death.”
“I appreciate that,” Rafe replied.
Walter pursed his lips. “Torrance and I always suspected that she got killed by some sex maniac from Seattle. Isn’t that right, Torrance?”
Torrance bobbed his head several times. “Yup. That was how we figured it, all right. Not that Chief Yates paid any attention to us.”
“Yates just wanted to close the case as fast as possible,” Walter said somberly. “He was getting ready to retire. Last thing he wanted to do was leave behind a nasty unsolved murder. Would have spoiled his record.”
“Murder.” Hannah met Rafe’s eyes for a few seconds. He gave her an enigmatic look. She turned back to Walter. “Are you serious? Do you really think Kaitlin was murdered by a sex maniac?”
Walter traded glances with Torrance. “Can’t blame us for wondering, given what we found the day we fixed her washer. Right, Torrance?”
Torrance’s head went into nodding mode again. “Right. Gotta wonder.”
Rafe looked at Walter “What exactly did you find the day you fixed her washer?”
To Hannah’s astonishment, Walter blushed a bright shade of red.
“Kinky stuff,” he muttered.
“What kind of kinky stuff?” Rafe asked.
Something in his voice made Hannah glance sharply at him. But she could read nothing in his expression.
Torrance rolled his eyes. “You know. Frilly undies.”
Hannah thought about the little demi-bra she had lost on the stairs last night. When her gaze collided with Rafe’s, she knew he was thinking about it too.
“What’s so kinky about a woman wearing frilly underwear?” she demanded
“Well, the stuff we found wasn’t exactly little,” Torrance said. “Big enough to fit a man.”
“Definitely a heck of a lot bigger than Kaitlin,” Walter confided. “She was real petite, if you recall.”
“There was also a sexy nightgown that was much too big for her,” Torrance continued. “And some really large sparkly high heels.”
“Don’t forget those videotapes,” Walter added.
Hannah stared at him. “You found all that stuff inside her washer?”
“Not exactly inside the washer.” Torrance hesitated. “Well, see, once we got goin’ on the washer, we realized that her dryer exhaust hose probably hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.”
