Rafe took the keys out of the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt. “It was your idea to bring Winston along.”
“I refuse to leave him home alone until we find out who tried to murder him.” Hannah glanced swiftly around the nearly empty parking lot. “Thank goodness there aren’t too many customers here at the moment.”
“There aren’t any other customers here,” Rafe said. “That van in the corner belongs to Virgil.”
“Oh. Hard to see how he stays in business. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and there’s no one here.”
Rafe cracked open his door. “Virgil doesn’t get busy until after dark.”
“How do you know that?”
“Everyone knows that.” He got out of the car and closed the door very quickly before she could think of any more questions.
Hannah opened her own door and climbed out warily. “All right, Winston, let’s go. But whatever you do, don’t touch anything. Understand?”
Winston sprang lightly out of the car. And immediately paused to sniff curiously at a small plastic wrapper that lay on the pavement.
Hannah glanced down to see what had caught his interest. She gave a half-strangled shriek of dismay. “Good grief, that looks like a used condom. Didn’t you listen to me, Winston? I said, don’t touch anything.”
Rafe watched her drag Winston away from his investigations. “Are you two going to fool around out here all afternoon?” He opened the rear door of the shop. “We’ve got business to do.”
Hannah gave him a ferocious glare. She stalked toward him with Winston in tow. “You certainly seem to know your way around the premises.”
“Spent some extremely educational afternoons here when I was a young man.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Virgil always was a pioneer in the field of sex ed.”
“Sex ed, my left pinkie. Virgil sells dirty books and movies. I refuse to dignify his profession by referring to him as an instructor in the field of sex education.”
“Suit yourself.” Rafe led the way into the shop. “But I think you’ll like Virgil once you get to know him.”
“I doubt if I’ll be coming back here much in the future,” she said austerely. She followed him into the shop and let the door slam shut with a reverberating bang.
“Okay, be that way,” Rafe said.
She did not dignify that with a response. Her attention was on Winston, who was busily sniffing around a display of what looked like small bottles of whipped cream. Rafe glanced at the sign above the display. PASSION CREAM. FOUR EROTIC FLAVORS.
Winston appeared to be particularly fascinated with the Cherry Pie flavor.
“Winston, leave that alone.”
Rafe had a feeling that Hannah was going to be saying that a lot while they were in the shop.
“Rafe.” The elegantly modulated voice emanated from the far side of the shop. “Heard you were back in town. Good to see you again.”
Rafe turned around and greeted the thin, slightly built man seated in the large wing chair near the window. “Hello, Virgil. Been a while.”
“It has indeed.” Virgil put down the book he had been reading and stood up. “And judging from the latest gossip, I assume that the charming lady at your side is Hannah Harte?”
“Hannah, meet Virgil.”
Hannah managed a smooth, brittle smile. She did not give Virgil her hand to shake. Instead she managed to make it appear as though she had all she could do to hang on to Winston’s leash and her purse at the same time.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Virgil,” Rafe said. “I think I recognize that vest.”
Virgil’s gray eyes twinkled a little behind the lenses of his reading glasses. He glanced down the front of the frayed green sweater vest that he wore over a plaid shirt. “You may be right. Can’t even recall when I got this. Probably a birthday gift from some dead relative whose name I have apparently forgotten. Where does the time go, eh?”
There was an oddly ageless quality about Virgil. His background was as cloaked in mystery as Arizona Snow’s. No one knew where he had come from or what he had done before he set up the p**n shop just outside the town limits. With his gaunt frame, neat silver goatee, slightly stooped shoulders, and thick glasses, he had the look of an absentminded professor who had spent too much time indoors with his books.
The scholarly impression was not far off the mark, Rafe thought. Somewhere along the line Nash had acquired a fine classical education. Virgil’s personal library, a sophisticated collection of history, literature, and philosophy, was extensive. Rafe knew that because he had spent a lot of time in it.
Virgil was not anyone’s idea of a p**n dealer, but he considered himself a professional in a sadly underappreciated line of work. He had once told Rafe that he had dedicated himself to the business of selling what he liked to call erotica years ago and had never wavered from his career choice.
Virgil glanced from Rafe to Hannah and back again. His silver brows rose inquiringly. “I am delighted that the two of you found time to pay me a visit. I’ve heard all about your plans for an inn and a restaurant out there at Dreamscape. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Those plans have not been finalized,” Hannah said brusquely.
“I’m sure everything will work out.” Virgil smiled at Rafe. “Heard you did all right for yourself.”
“Didn’t go to jail,” Rafe said.
“Had a hunch you would turn out okay.”
“I understand Rafe spent a lot of time here in the old days,” Hannah offered.
“Yes, indeed,” Virgil said with paternalistic pride. “I sold him his first condom. Taught him how to use it properly, too, before he left the store.”
“I see.”
Rafe winced. “Now, Hannah, it wasn’t like I came in here every week. Besides, none of the guys wanted to risk buying condoms at the local drugstore. The word would have been all over town by nightfall. Here at Virgil’s there was a lot more privacy.”
Hannah raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I’d rather not hear too many details about your past, thank you very much.”
Virgil chuckled. “Looks like your aunt Isabel was right all along. The two of you were obviously meant for each other.”
Hannah stared at him. “You knew Aunt Isabel?”
“Yes, indeed. We had some mutual interests.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
