Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  “He’s at ten o’clock.” Sara put her hand on Matthew’s forearm. “The waiter holding a water pitcher by the exit door, that’s him.”

  “Excuse me, ladies.” He slid out of his seat and began to work around the outer edges of the room. A short thin waiter with dark slicked back hair was pouring water into empty glasses. Before Matthew could reach him, he disappeared into the crowd.

  ***

  Late Tuesday afternoon, Matthew knocked on Sara’s door. When she opened it she asked, “Where have you been? I didn’t think I was supposed to solo this workshop.”

  Sara looked delicious with her ire up; face flushed rosy pink, her eyes glistening.

  “How’d your meeting with Pierce go?” he asked to slow her down.

  “Without your support, or Pam’s, I felt like a Christian in the arena with the lion. I can’t believe she couldn’t find a replacement for logistic support for the NASA talk. I think she just didn’t want to be in the same hotel room with Jonathon.”

  “Did you tell him our plan to use a tag team for tomorrow morning?”

  “Nope, I just let him fire off his orders about how the presentation should go according to the great god of finance; then I gathered up all the materials and wished him a safe flight. Sometimes the best offense is avoidance. You still haven’t told me where you were this afternoon.”

  “You haven’t stopped long enough for me to squeeze in a word. What are you keying into your laptop?”

  “You’re changing the subject, my friend.”

  “Indulge me.”

  “I’m working up Pam’s introduction and the bios for the two of us so she doesn’t hyperventilate into the microphone. Grab me a bottle of water from the fridge.”

  “Who was your slave yesterday?”

  “Okay, you’ve stalled enough. Where were you this afternoon, Matthew?”

  “I went up to the fitness club and had a look around the men’s locker room.”

  “There was certainly something fishy about that guy last night. What did you find?”

  “Not a thing. Don’t look at me that way. It doesn’t mean there isn’t something suspicious going on. Just means he’s good at covering his moves.”

  “What now?”

  “I also stopped to talk to hotel security. Interesting enough there is no security monitor in the locker rooms.”

  “Well, I should hope not. I can imagine the entertainment if there was. They’d probably sell tickets. What did you say to security?”

  “I described this employee and told them what we’ve observed. No employees are supposed to be working in the fitness club beyond the first shift.”

  “Then this guy is up to something? What did security say about that?”

  “They think he may have been a guest.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That isn’t the only thing I found out.”

  “What?”

  “Remember the older gent I knocked down in the lobby?”

  “Yes?”

  “I asked security if everything went well with him; if he was all right. And they don’t have any record of an Alfred Carmody.”

  “Didn’t they fill out an incident report? They led him into that little office off the front desk. I saw it.”

  “The man gave them my name and address from the card I handed him. They had a hard time with my insistence that I am Matthew Farrell, not the elderly fellow.”

  “But you’re a hotel guest, for goodness sake. All they have to do is check their computers.”

  “I know. I explained this to them. I even asked them to check the hotel register for an Alfred Carmody, thinking I could prove his existence that way.”

  “And?”

  “He never registered at the hotel, at least not under that name. The desk clerk who handled my check-in isn’t on duty or I could have verified my existence.”

  “Well show them your government identification.”

  “I gave them my business card, the same card they got from Alfred Carmody. I would prefer they didn’t know my actual government title. They think he gave me his card. After I showed them my driver’s license, we all came to the same conclusion that the old fellow was rattled when they were taking the information down and put my information down on the spot for his name and address.”

  “Did he sign the report? Some places ask for that.”

  “I know. His scrawl is unreadable. So they just chalked it up to human error. If he doesn’t complain or file suit and they have their paperwork all in place, they don’t care. After the report, they said he left the hotel under his own power and got into a cab out on Michigan Avenue.

  “Any how, I’ll be looking out for the mystery employee. Something is definitely suspicious there. Of course, now security is beginning to think I’m a kook with a habit of knocking down innocent bystanders and imagining problems where there aren’t any.”

  At a knock on the door she said, “It’s probably Pam. I’m almost ready to print this; then you both can look it over and see if there needs to be any changes.”

  “What is this pile of paper over here on the bed?”

  “All the research information I dug up for Jonathon when I thought he was leading the workshop.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Sara and Matthew scraped up the last of the spice cake and reworked the presentation at least a dozen times. “Are you finished fussing with this, love?” He caressed the soft side of her neck.

  “I just want to do a last check on the Power Point slides. God, that feels good.”

  “Mm,” he whispered just before he began nibbling at her pulse points.”

  “Matt, I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

  “Then, I’m doing my job, love. Enough is enough.” He reached over her shoulder and clicked save.

  “Matthew, I wasn’t finished.”

  He lifted his lips from their foraging and whispered, “I like it better when you call me Matt in that husky voice.”

  He closed the laptop and turned her around in the desk chair to tip her chin up.

  “Matt, we need to finish this.”

  “That’s what I have in mind.” He brushed his lips lightly across her mouth. She tasted of orange and cinnamon. He tugged gently on her bottom lip and she opened for him. His tongue slid inside. She moaned her acceptance and wrapped her arms around his neck pressing the fullness of her breasts into his chest. God, she was hot.

  He lifted her into his arms and brought her to the head of the bed. “Sara, sweet, I need to…” he began to pull away.

  She pulled him back.

  “I know, love. I need to clear us a spot first.”

  They fell back onto the paper littered bed. “Okay, maybe not.”

  Minutes become seconds and she reached above them pulling the pillows out from under, tossing them to the floor.

  “Matt, what are you?...yes, that. I need that.”

  “Yes, love; I do, too.

  “Matt, hurry,” she moaned. “Oh God, protection.”

  “I know, love, give me a moment.”

  “You’re hot.”

  “We’re hot. Look at me, Sara.”

  In moments they were there again.

  “I need you,” he said.

  She looked up, all sweetness and trust. “I need you, too.”

  And he smiled.

  ***

  Later, Sara heard rustling paper and opened her eyes. “Matthew, where are you?”

  “Go back to sleep, love. I’m just going upstairs for a bit.”

  “What time is it?” She lifted her head to squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. She was suddenly buried under an avalanche of covers.

  “It’s eleven thirty. Go back to sleep.”

  “I must have drifted off.”

  “We both did,” he mumbled through the shirt he was attempting to slip over his head.

  “Stay here with me,” she pleaded. “I’m getting cold.”

  “Sara, love, I only brought two condoms wit
h me and we used them both. I need to go upstairs.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Later. Close your eyes and rest.”

  And then it dawned on her. “Upstairs where? Are you going to the pool? You are, aren’t you?”

  “I want to see if that guy comes back.” He pulled his pants up.

  “I’m going with you. Wait.” She rolled out of bed and grabbed the top cover dragging it with her to the bathroom.

  “Sara, it’s dangerous.”

  “And my life isn’t lately? Don’t answer that. I can either come with you or follow you up. But, I am coming.”

  “And you did beautifully, several times. This is different.”

  “I’ll just be five minutes. We’re both sweaty. I need to shower and I’ll be right there.”

  “Damn it, Sara. Stay put!” He clasped his watch to his wrist.

  “What if you need me?” She turned around and blocked his exit.

  “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” he asked.

  “Five minutes,” She pleaded. “The guy didn’t show until after midnight last night. What are you doing?” He pulled the coverlet from around her body.

  “We’ll shower together and then go upstairs and stake out the pool. Although I think it’s a foolish waste of water to shower before we swim, I’ll concede to your wishes.” He turned her toward the bathroom and walked them in tandem into the shower.

  “Matt?”

  “Mm?”

  “You want to take your clothes off first?”

  ***

  On the way up in the hotel elevator with swim bags slung over their shoulders, he reached around the back of his beltline, pulled out his 9 mm Glock, and checked his clip.

  “Matthew?”

  “Just in case, Sara. I wish you’d stayed in bed.”

  They entered the fitness center, their footsteps echoing across the empty poolroom. He checked the locker room, changed into his trunks, and slipped his gun into his gym bag. Back in the poolroom he walked to the far side of the pool. He placed his bag on the lip edge of the deep end hidden from the door and waited for her to join him. In minutes she came out of the women’s locker room trying to hide her curves behind a towel. They both slid into the water and waded out to the deep end.

  “Has he already come, do you think?” she asked.

  “I set a mini-cam up in the locker room. Movement activates it and it was still set at zero when I walked in.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Shush,” he placed a finger against her lips. She was incredibly beautiful in that swimsuit; his body was responding again. He should have left her back in the room. If only she’d stayed there.

  “What if he doesn’t show up tonight?” she asked.

  “Then, we’ll try again tomorrow night.”

  He swam to the side of the pool and reached into his gym bag. He pulled out a pair of glasses and started to place them over her eyes. She pulled back.

  “Trust me, love.” He tucked the ends behind her ears. “What do you see?”

  “A locker room?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “We wait. If he has a pattern he’ll be here in,” he looked down at his watch, “ten minutes.”

  He pulled her to him, “Now where did we leave off?” He nibbled at her well kissed mouth.

  “Matt, wait. Someone’s coming.”

  “Don’t move. No one can see us from the door.”

  “But the security camera can.”

  “Sh.”

  Matt heard him walk through the door, along the length of the pool, and stop. They’d been spotted. He tried to smother Sara’s senses with his kiss all while damning himself for being too far away from his gun. The kid snickered and he imagined a smug grin on the kid’s face. A heartbeat later, the locker room door clicked shut. Matt pulled away from Sara and slipped the glasses back on his face.

  He could see the kid open a locker third from the end and pull out a white packet. The kid squeezed the package; then tore it open. In place of a stack of money, a pile of folded white paper towels fell to the floor. The kid spun around looking for a set up.

  Matt pushed Sara to the far corner of the pool. “Stay here,” he whispered then heaved himself up over the edge. He grabbed a white envelope from his bag then turned at the sound of the door opening before he could grab his gun.

  “Looking for this, kid?” He held up the packet of fifties to a wiry young man with black slicked-back hair wearing a fitness club t-shirt and black jeans.

  “Hey man, let’s make a deal, maybe a little party with your lady. There’s enough to go around.”

  “I think you’re smarter than that,” Matthew told him. “Hand over the product.”

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, man.” The kid smiled and pulled a switchblade.

  “I’m talking to a scared punk caught in a drug deal gone wrong. Between you and the exit is a federal agent. Security is on its way. You’re on camera, kid.” He pointed to the security camera mounted high on the wall and the kid laughed.

  “That’s just for looks, man. Nobody’s watching the poolroom after hours. And, you’re not the feds. I saw you today. You’re a big shot in a fancy company with the hots for your lady friend.” The kid nodded toward the pool. “Give me the money and I might let you live.”

  The kid took a step forward. “Don’t do it, kid.”

  They both heard the click of a gun.

  “My friend told you to give it up. Put down the knife, nice and easy,” Sara ordered from somewhere behind him. My God, she’s going to get herself killed.

  “Fuck you!” the kid yelled and lunged for him.

  “No!” she screamed. A gunshot echoed around the room.

  He kicked the knife out of the kid’s hand and wrestled him to the floor. Flipping him over, he pinned the kid’s hands behind his back. On the back of the kid’s right arm was the tattoo of a swastika.

  “Matt! You’re bleeding!” She pulled herself out of the pool and grabbed a towel.

  “Sara, I’m all right. He just nicked me. Pick up the phone on the wall and call security.”

  “Where’s?”

  “By the door, but put the gun down first.”

  “I dropped it, I’m sorry. I never fired one before.”

  “Call security, Sara.”

  Before she could move, two men in blue uniforms burst through the door with weapons drawn.

  The first man yelled, “Everyone down on the floor!”

  “If it’s all the same to you,” Sara said in a shivery voice, “we don’t want to let go of the bad guy. He knifed my friend before we subdued him.”

  She was standing there dripping on the floor and shaking like a quaking aspen.

  “Officer, do you have handcuffs or a tie strip on you? I don’t generally carry one with me when I swim,” he said.

  “I said get down on the floor!” the first guard yelled again.

  “I’m a federal agent; my ID is in my gym bag on the other side of the pool. Help me subdue this kid and I’ll show you my identification. My friend is a bit shaken; you might wrap a towel around her and sit her down before she collapses.”

  What seemed like hours, but was just a few minutes later, Matthew walked over to where she huddled under a pile of towels, curled up on a poolside chase lounge. She stared at the blood stained terrycloth wrapped around his left forearm.

  “Are you okay?” She stroked his hand. “Now that the local police have left we need to get you to the ER to take care of this.”

  He smiled to erase the worry lines on her face. “When we get you home, the first thing I’m going to do is teach you how to shoot a gun without dropping it in the pool.”

  CHAPTER 28

  In the elevator Wednesday morning, Sara juggled her laptop and briefcase to reach for her chiming phone.

  “Pam, I’m glad you called. I printed one copy of the power point presentation. Can you make a hundred
more for the attendees?”

  “Sara, have you seen the Chicago Tribune this morning?”

  “No, I got up late. I barely have enough time to set this presentation up. I’ll meet you in the ballroom in ten. Are you on your way in?”

  “I’m in the lobby. Where are you?”

  “In the elevator, I’ll meet you on the mezzanine. What’s in the Trib?”

  “Before I answer that, where’s Matthew Farrell?”

  “I would suppose he’s already at breakfast or on his way down.”

  “Sara, I’ll meet you at the elevator. For now, I just want to ask you one question. When do you sleep?”

  ***

  At the mezzanine, the elevator opened and a crowd was waiting. Pam grabbed Sara’s arm and pulled her through a waiting stream of people. She dragged Sara into the empty ladies room and leaned against the door. “What’s wrong? Did terrorists hit Chicago?”

  “No, you and Matthew Farrell did. Read this.” She shoved the morning edition into Sara’s hands just as Sara’s phone chimed again.

  “Wait.” Wedging her briefcase between her feet, Sara pulled her phone from her pocket.

  “Sara, what the hell is going on out there?”

  “Jonathon, I can’t talk now. I’m about to start your presentation. I’ll call you back later.”

  “I’ll call you. I’ll be tied up in meetings all day. Be careful what you say. The reputation of the company is at stake.”

  “I’ve got a handle on it, Jonathon. Didn’t you tell me to take the helm?”

  “The helm of the presentation, not the Chicago Police Force! Look, I’ve got to go. Watch it!”

  He disconnected and she looked at Pam with a question on her lips. Again, her phone chimed. “What’s going on, Pam?”

  Holding the paper up, Pam pointed to the headline on page one.

  Sara scanned the headline as Matthew’s voice filled her ear.

  “Sara, don’t come downstairs yet. I’ll meet you on your floor.”

  “Too late, Matt, I’m barricaded in the ladies room on the mezzanine with Pam. She just showed me the morning paper. I thought they were going to keep this quiet.”