by Gale Deitch
If I stayed in the cooler, I was doomed to freeze to death. If someone waited in the warehouse to do me harm, I would deal with it then. At least I’d have a chance. I approached the cooler door and located the red knob again with my pen light. Slowly, I put my hand on the knob and pushed it forward. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I tasted my freedom.
The door opened.
It opened barely a half inch, then stopped. It wouldn’t budge. Whatever had been dragged across the floor was now blocking the door. Whoever had locked me in wanted to make sure I couldn’t get out.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud. “This is it for Trudie Fine. I am going to die.”
I sat down on the floor and leaned against the cold metal shelves of boxes and jars and cans. I was going to die. I was going to die of hypothermia. I knew from TV shows that I would start to get sleepy, then disoriented. Maybe even begin to feel hot and take my clothes off. And then I would fall asleep—and die. I pulled up my knees and began rubbing my arms briskly to keep the circulation going. It didn’t help. I stood up and tried jumping up and down, but I was still freezing. At least the temperature in here would keep my body from decomposing until someone found me.
Poor Mom and Dad would be devastated. I hadn’t seen them for two weeks, couldn’t hug them or tell them I loved them.
A note, I thought. I had to write them a note. And one to Zach. More than that, I needed to tell Goldman what I’d seen at the hotel. I snatched a pen and scrap of paper from my purse, and using my pen light, my hand trembled as I began to scrawl the things I needed to say. The ink must have been cold because the pen kept skipping. I stopped periodically to scribble on the paper to get the pen working again. Great. They’re going to find me dead and wonder why I spent my time doodling when I could have been writing meaningful notes.
Wait a minute, I thought. This is not me. I stood up. Trudie Fine does not just give up. When there’s an obstacle she finds her way around it, through it, and out—
—Out.
I pounded on the door with the palms of my hands, yelling, “Help, help! Someone help me.” I grabbed a gallon-sized can of Manzanilla olives from the shelf and proceeded to bang it on the aluminum door. I bent over, exhausted, struggling to catch my breath. Who was going to hear me? The warehouse loading dock door was closed. Even so, very few businesses in the industrial park were open on a Sunday.
My body was rigid, my hands white and numb. I rammed my shoulder and hip into the door over and over again, emitting with each thrust a thunderous groan, the same sound I’d used when wielding a cleaver in my butchering class at school.
The sound of footsteps crunched through the shards of glass in the garage. I froze. They wanted to quiet me—for good. I heard them right outside the cooler door, moving the obstacle, scraping it along the floor so that the door would open. I grabbed the heavy olive can and held it above me, ready to knock it over someone’s head.
Very slowly, the door opened.
“Trudie?”
“Bradley?”
His eyes were directed up above my head and widened at the sight of the can I was holding. “Whoa. What are you doing with that thing?”
I dropped the can of olives on the floor and threw myself at him. “Oh, Bradley. You saved my life.”
He put an arm around me and led me out of the cooler. “What happened? Who did this?”
I leaned against Bradley, panting and basking in the warmth of his body. “I—I don’t know. I never saw him.” I turned slowly to survey the damage. “It’s gone. All gone. We spent three years saving and scrimping and going to closeout sales and surfing the web to build up our inventory. Now look at it.” I spread my arms toward the destruction to make my point. “Everything is ruined.”
I began to sob, more with the relief of being warm again. Of living to see another day.
Bradley ran his hands up and down my arms, scanning the room to take in the shattered remains of what used to be our entire stock of glassware and dishes. Then he turned to me. “Have you got insurance?”
At first my mind went blank. Zach took care of the administrative end of the business. But then I remembered. “Yes,” I said, hope rising in me like bubbles in club soda. “Yes, yes, yes. Zach took out a policy when we opened our doors. He had me cosign the paperwork.
Bradley, you’re wonderful.” I wrapped my arms around him and gave him an exuberant kiss on the cheek.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, laughing. Then he pulled me back to him and kissed me on the lips.
Startled, I took a step back. What was going on today? Did I have some kind of irresistible pheromones? I flushed.
Bradley grinned at me. “Sorry, Trudie. A little impulsive, I guess. C’mon,” he said, taking my hand. “I think you have some calls to make.” He led me into the office, then picked up my overturned desk chair and helped me into it.
I pulled out my cell phone, but before dialing the police, I peered up at Bradley. “What are you doing here anyway? You’ve never even been to our office before.”
He smiled at me. “Trudie, remember? Zach said to drop in whenever I wanted so he could show me his chopping technique. I wasn’t sure he’d be here. Just decided to take a chance.” He frowned at me. “And I guess it’s a good thing I did.”
I studied Bradley’s face—his emerald eyes, his chiseled features, dimpled chin, that constant smile. It all seemed too perfect.
A minute later, I reached 9-1-1 and explained my emergency. Then, knowing the Montgomery County police would respond to the call, I also dialed Detective Daniel Goldman, who arrived soon after.
Zach, although distressed about the destruction, was only concerned for me. “We can replace all that stuff,” he murmured into my hair. “We can’t replace you.” He pulled me close and wrapped his long arms around me in a protective hug. I leaned my head against his chest and began to cry softly. It confused me that, of these three men, Zach was the one who gave me the most comfort. After all these years with Zach at my side, he was the cream in my coffee, the syrup on my pancakes, the cheese on my macaroni.
“What are they doing here?” He gestured toward Bradley and Daniel.
I peered up at him through my tears. I could easily explain why Bradley had come and literally saved my life, but there was no way Zach would understand why I’d called Daniel. “It’s a long story. Another time.”
Chapter Sixteen
By this time, the county police had written up their report and were dusting for fingerprints in the office, the warehouse and on the walk-in cooler. Between the investigators, Bradley, Daniel, Zach and me, the office was getting pretty crowded, and Daniel suggested escorting me home safely.
“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Bradley said, taking my arm. “I’m free all evening.”
“If anyone is going to get her home, it’s me.” Zach took my hand and pulled me from Bradley. “In fact, you’ll come to my place, Trudie, where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “What time is it?”
“Five-fifteen,” Zach informed me.
“Five-fifteen? My parents are expecting me for dinner.” I stood up and began gathering my things to leave.
“Trudie, you are not going out there alone,” said Daniel. “Not on my watch.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll follow her,” said Bradley, smiling and holding his arm out for me to take it.
“I’ll go with her. I know her parents well, and they’ll be happy to see me.” Zach stood with his hands on his hips, blocking Bradley’s way.
Daniel swaggered over and put his hand on my arm. “Trudie needs someone who can protect her, and I can give her a police escort.”
I looked from Daniel to Bradley and then to Zach, all three surveying me expectantly.
“Listen,” I said. “I can’t deal with this right now.” I pulled out my cell phone. “Hi, Mom. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Can I bring a few friends for dinner? Great. See you soon.”
“Okay. All of you, follow me. We’re all going to my parents’ house for dinner.”
On a Sunday, my mother always made enough to feed the whole neighborhood, so that didn’t worry me. I just hoped she wouldn’t faint when she saw who I was bringing for dinner. I could only imagine what the neighbors would think when our caravan of four cars pulled up to my parents’ house.
Months seemed to have passed since I’d seen Mom and Dad. It had only been two weeks, but a lifetime of events had taken place while they’d been on their cruise. At the door, I hugged my mother fiercely, so happy to be held by someone I knew loved me for who I was. When we broke our embrace, Zach walked in behind me.
“Zachary, my bubula,” she said. He bent down to hug her, and she kissed him on both cheeks. As Bradley entered, Mom stood back. “Oh,” she said, her hand over her open mouth, her eyes widening.
Next, Daniel stepped into the foyer.
“Oh my.” I heard my mother gasp a little and take another step back. Her face turned as pink as her polyester pants suit.
I couldn’t blame her. She’d been trying to marry off her dateless daughter for years. Now I walk into the house with not one, not two, but three attractive men.
“Mom, this is Bradley Miller and Detective Daniel Goldman.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fine.” Bradley took her hand and grinned.
She let him hold it a moment and flushed, unable to speak.
“And this is Detective Daniel Goldman,” I repeated, to break the spell she’d fallen under.
“Oh my,” she repeated, shifting her attention to Daniel. “A detective. Goldman, is it?” She nodded approvingly. “Welcome.” She patted her bleached blonde hair as if making sure every lock was in its place.
After making all the introductions again to Dad, my mother escorted us into the living room. “Sid, where’s that nice wine we brought back from Alaska?”
In the living room, Mom served us smoked Alaskan salmon with crackers and Dad poured the wine purchased on the cruise ship. He wore navy Bermuda shorts, white deck shoes and a white t-shirt that read, “Size Does Matter” with a map of their Inside Passage route.
With everyone more or less relaxed, I broke the news about Mr. Schwartz’s murder. Bradley and Daniel added their own commentaries to help defuse Mom’s distress. Zach sat quietly.
“Poor man,” she said. “I remember meeting Melvin at your graduation ceremony. A nicer man you would never meet.”
Then I told her about Zach’s arrest. “It’ll all be fine, Mom, when he’s cleared. And tomorrow, at his bond hearing, his lawyer will get everything straightened out.”
We all turned our attention to Zach, whose face was now red as cherry Jello.
“But I don’t understand why Zachary, such a wonderful boy, would be arrested in the first place,” my mother said to Daniel. “We’ve known Zach since he was six years old. Gentle as a lamb, he is.”
A sacrificial lamb, I thought.
“Yes, Daniel. Why would anyone want to arrest Zach?” I asked, enjoying his momentary discomfort as he shifted in his seat.
He cleared his throat. “Well, uh—Mrs. Fine. It seems that the evidence pointed to Mr. Cohen. But just as Trudie says, he is out on bail and of course, he’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“Detective,” Dad said. “What brings you gentlemen here with Trudie tonight?”
“Sid! Goodness. These are Trudie’s guests, and of course they are always welcome in our home.” Mom gave my father a signal that, after all these years, he knew meant to shut his mouth.
“Just watching out for your daughter,” Daniel answered. “As a matter of fact, Trudie, I think you should tell your parents what happened this afternoon.” He gave me a smug smile that said, “Let’s watch you squirm now.”
“Trudie, what happened?” All Mom’s attention was on me now.
“Well,” I began, searching for the right words. “It seems someone broke into my office and warehouse and did quite a bit of damage.”
“Are you all right, baby?” Now my father appeared worried. One priority of mine as a young adult has always been to keep my parents from worrying. Any concern for me on their part meant several phone calls a day and unexpected visits to my apartment. For that reason, I tended to gloss over situations and make light of them.
“Probably some teenagers getting into trouble,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “The police are investigating, and the insurance will pay for the damage.” I didn’t know exactly what our insurance would cover. Zach and I would have to dig through the overturned files to find our policy and file a claim. Hopefully, we’d get the money soon so we could replenish our lost inventory.
“Well,” Mom said, getting up to refill the glasses, “I guess we should be relieved that Trudie has three strong, handsome men to protect her.”
“Mrs. Fine.” Bradley smiled broadly. “I’m sure we’d all love to hear about your Alaskan cruise. Mr. Fine, did you get to do any salmon fishing?” He leaned forward in his chair as if ready to be riveted by their stories. Leave it to Bradley, the peacemaker, to relieve the tension in the room.
Mom brought me into the kitchen ostensibly to help with the dinner. “Trudie, honey. Where did you meet these delightful men? How long have you known them?”
“Only a week. Bradley helps us out with bartending, and Daniel is the investigator on the Schwartz murder case.”
“Oh, my. Poor Melvin and poor, poor Dana. She must be heart sick. Ally, too.” She tsk, tsked and shook her head.
“So much has happened while you and dad were away. I’m just trying to process it all.”
Mom glanced toward the living room. “Yes, I can see that. And is there something special going on with any of these men?” She folded her arms, nodded and smiled at me with all the pride of a chef watching his over-achieving protégé.
How could I tell her that there’d been encounters of one type or another with all three of them? And all in one day. I wasn’t sure about their feelings or mine, so how could I begin to answer her question? “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”
She put a gentle hand on my cheek and peered into my eyes as only a mother can. Then she nodded. “Just follow your heart, Trudie, and it will all become clear.” She hugged me and kissed my forehead. “Now help me get this food out on the table.”
We all sat at the dining room table devouring Mom’s delicious brisket with roasted potatoes and carrots. Mom had seated Bradley next to me with Daniel and Zach directly across from us and Mom and Dad at either end. Daniel glared at Bradley with an intensity as sharp as my Santoku. This seemed to have no effect on Bradley, who spent the evening charming my mother with his smile and politeness while listening intently to Dad’s musings about the Inuit natives of Alaska.
“So, Bradley,” Mom said, interrupting Dad in the middle of one of his ramblings. “You’re single, I gather? What do you think of our Trudie here?”
“Mom!” I couldn’t believe she was doing this at the dinner table and right in front of me.
Bradley turned to me and put his arm across the back of my chair. He gazed at me as if I were the cream filling inside a Twinkie. “Trudie is the epitome of womanhood. She is everything a man could ever want. I have nothing but the highest admiration for your daughter, Mrs. Fine.”
I glanced at Daniel. If his eyes were lasers, he would have turned Bradley into a pile of ash.
“Oh Bradley,” Mom said. “You certainly have a way with words, don’t you?”
“And a way with women,” Zach added. Up to this point he’d been sitting quietly, brooding, as he often did when things weren’t going his way.
Dad turned to Daniel. “And what about you, Detective Goldman? A single man, also?”
Oh my god. Not Dad, too. I wanted to dive under the table.
Daniel was quick to reply, “Yes sir. I am.” He gazed across the table at me.
“You’re single and Jewish?” My mother’s expression turned to ecstasy.
“And looking.” He
nodded to Bradley. His expression said, “Touché. Who has the upper hand now?”
“Well I am single and Jewish and I’m outta here.” I stood up, plunked my napkin on the table, and stalked out of the dining room, grabbing my bag as I headed for the door. I turned to wave to Mom and Dad and discovered Daniel, Bradley and Zach right on my heels, mumbling their thanks to my parents for a delicious dinner.
Chapter Seventeen
In my rearview mirror, I saw Goldman, Bradley and Zach playing leap frog with their cars to see who could stay closer to me. I’d had enough of all of them. It had been a long day. My partner was being arraigned for murder tomorrow, my business had been destroyed, Ally was having an affair with Mr. Lewis, and I was being pursued by three single guys, not to mention a murderer. What I needed was someone objective to confide in.
At a red light, I pulled out my cell phone and called May.
“I’m so glad you’re home. Can I come over? I really need someone to talk to.”
“Of course, shuga. You know I’m here for you any time.” Her voice was as smooth and calming as a bowl of Vichyssoise.
I knew my abrupt turn to the right instead of the left had caused some confusion for my three followers when a minute later, Goldman rang my phone. “Trudie, where the hell are you going?”
“I have a stop to make,” I said. “Is there some kind of law against that?”
“I’d like to get you home safe and sound,” he snapped. “I’m not your personal bodyguard. I can’t follow you all over town.”
“I don’t expect you to follow me around. You’re free to go on your merry way whenever you like.”
“And let that grinning phony try to protect you? No way.”
“That’s your decision.” I pressed the off button.
MAY STOOD TALL and regal in a silk kaftan of purples, greens and yellows. Her close-cropped hair was dyed burgundy, and gold hoops the size of donuts hung from her ears. When we hugged, she smelled like cinnamon and oranges.