by A W Hartoin
“I think so. He transferred to Boston, but I think he’s still married,” said Molly.
“Why are people so stupid?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me. What is it with Catherine? Is she hot and I don’t know?”
I typed the rest of Molly’s info into my phone and said, “She’s not hot, but she’s got something I’m not picking up.”
“Just between you and me, Catherine deserves a little humiliation. Did you know she’s got a boyfriend? She had one during that Gary thing, too.”
“I guess they did what they did with her of their own free will,” I said.
Molly tried to get out of her chair, but I had to haul her out. Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.
“I know what you mean,” said Molly, panting a little from the effort. “But there are rules. You don’t betray the sisterhood.”
I thought about Chuck and Julia’s inscrutable interest. I hoped she knew the rules. “Agreed. I wonder what Catherine’s thinking.”
“You’re not worried about that boyfriend of yours, are you?” Molly asked.
“Huh?”
“The cop, he’s still your guy, right?”
“Oh, yeah. He is,” I said.
“I’m sure he’s good.” The way she said it, she wasn’t sure at all.
I smiled as I followed her waddling to the door. “He better be.”
She laughed. “You are one of the few women I’ve ever met that probably would and could shoot him. Seriously though if there’s one thing the whole Darren thing taught me it’s trust but verify.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Jillian could see it later on, but she didn’t at the time. She talked to Catherine at the reunion, but she was kinda cold to her. Everybody was friending everybody before and after the reunion. Jill’s friends on Facebook with Darren’s high school girlfriend and a bunch of other girls he knew. They friended Jill, but Catherine didn’t friend her. She could barely be bothered to say hello.”
“That wasn’t a good sign, I guess,” I said.
She reached for the door handle and I stopped her. “One more thing. Were either Gary or Darren in-person affairs or was it just online?”
“I assumed Gary was a full out affair, but Darren was just online, not that that’s much better,” said Molly.
“No?” I asked.
“Would you want some woman walking around with pictures of your husband’s penis forever, not to mention his sexts?”
“Good point.” I opened the door for her and she waddled out, putting on what speed she could. “Oh my God. I have to pee.”
“When are you due?” I asked.
“Two weeks. I’ll never make it.”
“I have to admit it doesn’t look like all that much fun.”
We made it to the bathroom and Molly yanked open the door. “It was really great and then a month ago it wasn’t.”
“Well, good luck with the birth and thanks for your help,” I said, turning to go.
“Hey, Mercy,” she said, calling me back.
“Yeah?”
“I’d avoid Stacy, if you can. Her boyfriend has a man cave and you’re the star.”
“I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”
She grinned at me. “Like me and those pictures of Catherine. Oh my God. I’ve got to pee.” The bathroom door closed and I reluctantly returned to the lobby, giving Stacy’s desk a wide berth, but I got it. She saw me as a rival, whether I was or not, and she was watching me with barely disguised loathing. Normally, I would’ve given her a finger wave to bother her, but that would’ve been nasty now that I knew so I avoided her altogether and went straight to Aaron, who had his little notepad out and was frantically scribbling down what would undoubtedly turn out to be a recipe or twenty.
I snagged him by the sleeve and dragged him to the elevator under the hawk-like gaze of Stacy. Thankfully, the elevator opened quickly and I pushed Aaron in. That’s when he woke up and asked, “What’s happening?”
“We’re leaving,” I said as I dialed Mickey Stix.
No bars.
I gritted my teeth and kept redialing as we walked out to the parking lot. Aaron tucked away his notebook and I had to snatch him back as he made a beeline toward The City Museum.
“No,” I said. “It’s not happening today.”
“Who is this?” said Mickey.
“Mercy. Cancel the photographer. I’ve got another way in.” I gave Aaron my truck keys and forced him into the driver’s seat. “Today I love Facebook.”
“Hey, Nina,” Mickey said with a throaty chuckle. “Mercy wants to cancel.”
I could hear Nina, Mickey’s wife and former cover model yell back, “Forget it, gorgeous. A deal’s a deal.”
Nina was the power behind the throne. I might’ve had a shot with Mickey. With Nina, no chance.
“You heard her,” he said.
“Please. You’ve got tons of shots of me.”
“Don’t have any dominatrix shots.”
Noooo.
“That’s not happening,” I said. “You’ll have to sue me a lot.”
Nina was laughing in the background. “You’re bad, Mick.”
“I am bad,” he said. “And you love it, babe. Come here and give me some sugar.”
Ew.
“Get a room, you two.”
“We’ve always got a room. That’s the secret to a long marriage,” said Mickey.
“Remember that when you marry that cop,” said Nina in the background.
“I’m not marrying anybody. Please cancel that photographer,” I said. “You don’t need shots. Please, I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
There was a small tête à tête and I got hopeful.
“That photographer’s booked and we got him on a plane tonight. We’d be asswipes to cancel now.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
“So how about this? You sign a release for the ditch shots and agree to do us a little favor.”
“Ditch shots?”
“What, you think I don’t pay attention?” asked Mickey and Nina took the phone. “You climbing out of that ditch in soaking wet scrubs. It works for a song Mick’s working on.”
“Are you serious? I look grade-A disgusting.”
“That’s the point,” she said.
I’m so going to regret this.
“Fine. What’s the favor?” I asked.
“You know our daughter is turning eighteen in a few weeks.”
I didn’t but whatever. “Sure.”
“We’re going to do something special and she’d like you to be there,” said Nina.
“Me? Why in the world?”
“Peekaboo loves you. You’re her idol.”
I wasn’t sure which kid Peekaboo was. Mickey and Nina couldn’t have kids of their own and had adopted special needs kids from Russia. “Er…”
“The one with Down’s Syndrome,” said Nina.
“Oh, right. She’s so sweet, but why does she like me? I’ve met her once.”
“She’s seen you on TV, taking down the bad guys. Peekaboo thinks you’re a kind of superhero.”
“I hope she doesn’t watch 20/20,” I said.
Nina laughed. “Oh, she saw that piece. When they called you a nitwit, she threw her grilled cheese at the TV. If you knew how much she loves grilled cheese, you’d know that’s a big deal.”
“I appreciate the sacrifice. Are you sure you want me at the party? She might discover that I have nitwit qualities.”
Nina’s voice got tight. “You won’t come?”
“Oh, I’ll come. No problem there. But what if Peekaboo doesn’t like me for real. I don’t exactly leap buildings in a single bound.”
“You leap off bridges. That’s good enough for our baby girl. She wants to show you her scrapbook. You’re the star by the way.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“Alrighty then. When and where is it?” I asked.
“She has
n’t decided,” said Nina. “But we’ll let you know. It’s usually last minute so be prepared.”
“I’ll pack a bag.”
“Mercy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. She’ll be so happy.”
I could hear Nina getting teary-eyed and I did, too. Moms. They get you every time.
Chapter Eight
I WASN’T PAYING attention. I really should’ve been. If you give Aaron the keys, you’ll end up eating and this time was no different. He pulled into the alley behind Kronos and parked with a jolt behind Rodney’s 1978 Charger. He’d recently made the monumental decision to have it restored. Unfortunately, he was doing it himself so he was squatting next to the right rear wheel well with a wire brush going after the rust. If he got it all, there wouldn’t be a wheel well left.
“You hungry?” asked Aaron.
“No,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I’ve got to—”
Aaron turned off the truck and jumped out, trotting away in through the back door of Kronos. He didn’t even close his door.
“I said no!” I yelled.
Rod grinned at me and yelled, “Give it up!”
“Same to you!” I pointed at the wheel well and a chunk of rust fell off, spraying Rodney with red.
He came over, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face to yank open my door. “You won’t be laughing long.”
“Why?”
“Aaron has ideas.”
“Don’t say crab.”
Rod grinned at me. “Go in and take your medicine.”
I groaned. “What did I do to deserve that?”
“You gave him the keys.” Rod held out the wire brush. “Want to help me instead?”
“That’s not an improvement and I have to call Uncle Morty.”
“Suit yourself.” He went back to disintegrating his car while I called, keeping an eye on Kronos. It pays to be aware when you’re expecting crab.
“Whattayawhat?” growled Uncle Morty.
“I have info on Catherine,” I said, walking away from the huge truck that was delivering industrial-sized dumpsters to the former bike shop.
“Good info?”
“No, it’s crap. You want it or not?”
“What crawled up your butt?” he asked.
“I’m at Kronos and Aaron made crab.”
He chortled. “I knew Aaron’d get you there for a tasting. Sucker.”
“Thanks for warning me,” I said.
“Better you than me. He’s getting experimental. What’s ya got?”
I told him everything Molly told me. The Katy Frommer Facebook account was key and Uncle Morty was typing so fast he was breathing hard.
“Son of a bitch,” he said. “I shoulda thought of that. I tried all the other nicknames for Catherine, but I thought she’d use her real last name. Sneaky chick.”
I cringed. “What’s the account say? Is it sleazy?”
“Nah. It’s normal. Almost a carbon copy of her Catherine Cabot account, except…”
“Yeah?”
“All her friends are men,” said Uncle Morty.
“Shocking.”
“Let me look at this Gary Vance character.”
Gary wasn’t hard to locate. He had moved to Boston and was still married and flying. As far as Uncle Morty could tell, the wife hadn’t found out about Catherine. Gary had blocked Catherine from everything you could block someone from. Email, phone numbers, Twitter, and Instagram. She had tried to get in touch with him a few times, but gave up quickly.
“What about Darren Sonnet?” I asked.
“Gimme a minute.”
It took more than a minute, but I was happy to wait. From the crabby smell drifting out of Kronos, it was a lot safer out than in. Darren’s story was pretty much the way Molly told it. A short-term romance, if you wanted to call it that, and it ended when Jillian found out. Darren, also, blocked Catherine and so did Jillian. They were still married, but there was a whole lot of couple’s therapy going on.
“Did he ever threaten Catherine?” I asked.
“Nope. He begged,” said Uncle Morty.
I got a sick feeling. “Please don’t say he wanted her back.”
“Nope. He begged her not to talk to his wife, come to his work, shit like that.”
“Did she?”
“Don’t look like it. Catherine didn’t give much of a crap. He dumped her and she moved on.”
“To who?”
There was a loud ping. “Hey. Your photographer’s going to Cali tonight, a seven o’clock flight.”
“Do we really care?” I asked. “We’ve got the Facebook.”
“Hell, yeah, we care. There ain’t nothing on here but flirting and how’s your damn cat. The real stuff’s on the phone. Looks like she’s blocked a few guys and some women, but she’s deleted the messages. I’ll have to resurrect them.”
“How long will that take?”
“I’ll get to it.”
“When?”
“When I get to it. Catherine chats a lot when the boyfriend’s on the move. I got to sort out who’s who.”
“Okay.” I rubbed my forehead. “I thought this would be easy.”
“Ain’t nothing easy and this woman has pissed some people off.”
“Yeah?”
“How would you like it if your man was catting around with some ho on the internet?”
I looked up and saw my man, who hadn’t shown up last night, come out the back door, grinning like nothing happened. “I wouldn’t be thrilled.”
“My money’s on a girlfriend or a wife. She found out and she decided to make Catherine’s life hard,” said Uncle Morty.
I could see the logic, but something wasn’t sitting right. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? You think women take that shit lying down. My mom would’ve tried to run her over with a truck.”
“Exactly,” I said. “The pictures to her work is almost subtle.”
“Freaking humiliating is what it is. Her boss saw them.”
“And nobody else.”
Uncle Morty began furiously typing again and I waved off Chuck, who wanted me to come inside. I was trying to figure out how to ask him where he was last night without sounding like a jealous nut job.
“I think you’re right,” said Uncle Morty.
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Shut up. Calabasas saw the pictures. He contacted Catherine’s father after the second set and forwarded them to Big Steve after that. They discussed Tommy and what to do. Looks like none of them thought for a freaking second that it was Catherine in the pictures.”
“Not so humiliating,” I said. “Your mom would’ve run her over. My mom…”
“Carolina would’ve kicked Tommy out of the house. What would you do?” he asked.
I watched Chuck shrug and go back inside. I could’ve thrown up with just the thought of it. “I don’t know, but sending pictures to her boss isn’t on the list. I’d want to scream at her, but it’d really be his fault.”
“Yeah, but maybe it’s about her losing her job. Hitting her in the wallet.”
I rolled that around. “If they don’t know that she has a trust fund, it’s possible. Have you looked at her credit cards?”
“Yeah, what are you thinking?” he asked.
“Hotels, vacations. Is this solely online or did she take it to the next level?”
“I don’t see nothing to indicate that, but that don’t mean she didn’t go to their places or they could come to hers.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. So she blocked some people, who are they?” I asked.
Uncle Morty came up with a short list. Five people over the last ten years.
“Who’s the most recent?”
“Joe Hove and his wife, Patty. You’re going to like this,” he said.
I did like it as much as I could like anything to do with Catherine. The Hoves were realtors, owned their own shop, an
d they were pretty successful. Joe sold Catherine her loft eight months ago. Two months ago, Catherine blocked him from everything, followed shortly by his wife. She deleted all messages with Joe and Joe deleted all messages in his account, too.
“Get this,” said Uncle Morty. “He tried to get them back.”
“Interesting.”
“I’ll get in his phone and see what there is to see.”
“What about the wife? I assume Catherine had a thing with Joe. Does she know?”
Uncle Morty grumbled. “They got some security.”
“You can’t get in to their computers?” I asked as haughty as possible.
“I can get in anywhere. I just got to hack the program. Fifteen minutes max.”
“I’ll wait,” I said.
“You go in there and taste Aaron’s latest creation. He feeds you and saves your damn life every other day,” he said. “You owe him.”
Dammit.
“Fine. Are you in the wife’s Facebook?” I asked.
He was and Patty Hove had not been searching for Catherine Cabot or any derivative of her name. If Joe was having a thing with Catherine and Patty was suspicious, that’d be the first place she’d look.
“If the wife doesn’t know,” I said, “there’s no motive.”
“Something happened two months ago,” said Uncle Morty. “Joe could be sending the pics, if she dumped him.”
“Maybe. How tight were they?”
“They had nicknames for each other.”
“Like Anthony Wiener-type nicknames?” I asked.
“In the ballpark,” he said.
“Now I have to know.”
“Penelope Pink Thong and Joey Hung.”
“Ew.” I reluctantly hung up and waited for a minute as the dust settled in my mind.
The back door of Kronos opened again and I winced, expecting Aaron with crab salad with a side of crab, but it was Chuck, holding a donut.
“What are you doing out there?” he asked. “Come in. You have to try this.”
“Is there crab in it?”
He jogged down the stairs and handed me the donut. “Just try it. It’s amazing, I swear.”
I almost bit that donut. Almost. But the scent of crab got to me just in time. “Oh my God. He put crab in a donut. That’s just wrong.”
“It’s delicious.”
Rodney called over, “It’s Aaron’s new line for the bakery.”