Discarded Promises

by Candice Poarch

  “I’ll walk her for you.”

  Denton glanced up from the bag. “You don’t have to. I’ll do it.”

  “No problem.”

  “Knock yourself out.” The man looked so happy to walk the dog, Denton began to wonder about him.

  Owen left with Lucky, and since Denton didn’t have to prepare breakfast, he got the morning paper and sat with his coffee.

  A few minutes later, Quilla appeared and Denton glanced up. “You ready to eat?” He smiled. “Are you awake yet?”

  Quilla had slept later than she had in ages. Although she’d brushed her teeth and washed her face, she still looked as if she could sleep another eight hours. “No. I’m not awake,” she said, and wedged herself into the seat across from him.

  Pushing his paper to the side, he got up and poured her a cup of coffee, setting it in front of her. She looked all sleepy and tousled, and he wanted to take her back to bed and spend the morning making love to her.

  “Maybe this will help,” he said. “Or you can go back to bed. It’s not like you have anywhere to go.”

  “Umm.”

  “Are you ready to eat?”

  “Too early. Where’s Lucky?”

  “Your father’s walking her.”

  “My . . .”

  Denton nodded. “Yes. Your father. And he brought breakfast and dinner.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “He’s trying hard to bridge the gap between you. You ever thought of giving him a second chance?”

  Quilla clamped her mouth shut. It was difficult for her to accept that her father was going all out to help her. She didn’t like being beholden to him, but it seemed fate was taking the decision out of her hands.

  Owen came back with a happy Lucky, who shook snowflakes off her coat before she flopped on the chair and promptly went to sleep.

  Irving arrived soon after.

  “Have you had breakfast?” Denton asked Owen.

  “Well, not yet.”

  “It’s going to be hours yet before you open the store.” Denton handed him coffee. “Help yourself. I have to get going.” He kissed Quilla.

  “I can only stay a few minutes. I’m baking the dog biscuits this morning.”

  Denton shook his head. He still couldn’t get used to the idea of anybody baking dog treats.

  “What time should I expect you tonight?” Quilla asked.

  “I’ll call and let you know.”

  A few minutes after he left, Hattie arrived, calling, “Yoo-hoo. They said you were in there, Quilla. I want to see how you are.”

  “Can’t let strangers in,” Irving said. He took his job seriously.

  “Hattie’s a neighbor.” She opened the door to the older woman.

  “Who told you I was here?”

  “The Jehovah’s Witness lady. We had a nice long chat. And with the handsome man who was with her. They’re dating, you know. She converted him to her religion. And now he goes around with her.”

  Irving impaled Quilla with a narrow look. “That’s why I told you not to let people in. Now they’re telling the world where you’re hiding out.”

  “I won’t blab,” Hattie said. “I’m Quilla’s friend. And we’re working the case together.”

  Quilla’s father came over. “Morning, I’m Quilla’s dad. Would you like to have breakfast with us?”

  “Oh, I would. Haven’t had my coffee today. These people come along so early.” Under Irving’s critical eye, the older woman went to the kitchen. Quilla’s father dished up a serving of breakfast casserole onto a plate and heated it. Then he handed it to her with a cup of coffee.

  When Hattie picked up her fork, Quilla realized that for all the jewels Hattie owned, she never wore any around the apartment. Not one piece, even her wedding band, which most people wore most of the time. Today she was dressed in navy polyester slacks and a blue and white sweater. This woman had lots of money. The apartments were by no means cheap. You’d think she’d wear more upscale slacks.

  Quilla resumed her seat but couldn’t work up the appetite for breakfast, but her father put a plate in front of her, too. She was about to tell him she couldn’t eat a bite when he beat her to the punch.

  “I know you aren’t hungry, that you still feel fatigued. But you have to eat to keep your strength up.”

  Quilla didn’t have enough strength to argue. She’d only gotten shot in the arm. She didn’t understand this weakness, especially since she didn’t lose that much blood. Or at least she didn’t think so.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Lester doesn’t talk her into marrying him sometime soon. I may have a wedding to attend,” Hattie said into the silence. “Won’t that be fun?”

  Quilla picked up her fork and cut off a small piece of casserole. It was surprisingly good. Maybe she could eat a little bit, although not the hungry-man serving her dad piled on her plate.

  “When does Lester have time to work?” Quilla asked. “He’s always with her.”

  “He has a night job at a printing place.”

  “Convenient.” Hattie had probably dragged the poor man’s life’s history out of him. “You got all that information out of one visit?” But Quilla shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “And who’s this young man?” she asked, looking critically at Irving, who was frowning at them while he ate.

  “My bodyguard.”

  Jake arrived yawning and rubbing his stomach. Quilla introduced him to everyone. He’d spent the night in the spare bedroom, but she could see the storm clouds gathering in her father’s face. It probably occurred to him that with only two bedrooms, she’d probably spent the night with Denton.

  “Don’t you remember me, Mr. Day?”

  Her father frowned until he said, “I’m Jake. Used to live across the street from you.”

  “Now I remember. Your folks moved away as soon as you graduated. How are they?”

  “They love the Florida sunshine. May I top off your coffee?”

  “Nothing for me. I’ve had my one-cup ration,” Hattie said. “Now we have to get down to business with this murder mystery. Can’t have anyone taking shots at you. Now I made a list . . .”

  For the first time Quilla noticed she’d eaten the entire portion of food. She could get fat in a hurry eating like that. Hattie pulled out a small notebook and set it on the table.

  Her father and Jake left, promising to check in on Quilla later.

  “We have to figure out which one of them is desperate enough to want you dead,” Hattie said, picking up the mystery. “Quite frankly, you don’t have any information on anything, so I don’t see why they’re after you.”

  “Probably because I won’t give up on Sadie.”

  “Your death would make the police even more suspicious. But who ever said these people use common sense?”

  “Hattie, maybe you should stay out of this. It’s enough that I’m being shot at. And you’ve been seen with me. Your life could be in danger, too.”

  “I’m an old woman. What are they going to do?”

  “Shoot you! Seriously. I want you to stay out of it.”

  Hattie looked hurt. “But I want to help.”

  “I know.” Quilla reached over and patted her hand. “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  “They’ve already seen me with you. It’s too late to back out now.”

  Quilla sighed. That was true enough. “But promise me you won’t do anything. No phone calls. No questions. As far as they’re concerned you brought me to the party and that was the end of it.”

  Hattie jutted her chin in the air.

  “I’m serious. I can’t have your life on my conscience.”

  Hattie sighed. “Dang. You know how to take the fun out of life.”

  She and Hattie talked for an hour, about the murder and attempted murder, and any other topic she could bring up. Hattie would use any opportunity to have someone to chat with other than the bird.

  Later Regina arrived with a suitcase and carried
it into the bedroom. “I thought you’d need a few additional nightgowns and things. I packed some sexy nightgowns.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “I only have one,” Quilla said.

  “I know. I spent some petty cash on a few more.”

  Quilla shook her head at her crazy assistant.

  “And I packed a few other clothes with your toiletries. I know you weren’t in a frame of mind to ask about it this morning. But what can a woman do without her facial essentials?”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Since Denton had insisted she sleep in his room, she had made room in his closet for her things. Then she shuffled things in his dresser drawers, leaving one free for her. It puzzled her that he had so few things.

  It occurred to her that although they had slept together, she knew very little about him. She didn’t know where he was born. She didn’t know much about his family, only that his brother had died. And that he was divorced. Where were his parents? The few items scattered around weren’t enough for a man who’d settled in for the long haul.

  She thought again about what she’d debated the first time she visited. It was as if this apartment was only a temporary dwelling, like an extended stay in a hotel. Much like her presence there. For her it was a safe harbor until they found the shooter. What was it for him?

  There should be more personal items in his home.

  Denton arrived home around one with lunch and dismissed Irving, which was fine with Quilla. She wanted to talk in private.

  “I’m not really hungry, but you go right ahead and eat. I had a late breakfast.”

  “How is your arm?”

  It was hurting like hell, but she said, “Fine.”

  “Isn’t it time to take your antibiotic?”

  Quilla glanced at the clock. “You’re right.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have a little food in your stomach.”

  Quilla was grumpy from being cooped up in the apartment all morning. She was accustomed to greeting guests and talking to and feeding treats to dogs. She wasn’t accustomed to spending a day with a monosyllablic, grouch like Irving.

  “I don’t know how I took care of myself all these years without you.”

  “Neither do I. Good thing I came along.” He set out two plates and dished out the food. “Someone must be feeling irritable.”

  Quilla remained silent, then said, “You’ve been wonderful. Everyone has. And I’m being a . . .”

  Rounding the table in a couple of strides, he kissed her before the words materialized. “Temperamental. You’re not used to being cooped up.”

  Quilla got up and looked out the window. Snow came down in big wet flakes. A young couple was holding hands. Suddenly the man bent down and grabbed up a handful of snow and squashed it in the woman’s face. Quilla could see her scream, if she didn’t hear it. She ducked, grabbed a handful, and threw dead center of his forehead.

  How she wished she could be out there.

  “It’s snowed at least a couple of inches and it looks pretty out there,” she said. “Good for a snowball fight.”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you had to drive in it. A little snow practically stops the city. Fender benders all over town.”

  He came up behind her and massaged her shoulders. “In a couple of weeks, you can have all the snowball fights you want,” he said, then went back to what he had been doing.

  Quilla regarded him as he worked quickly and efficiently setting out the food. “I’m not helpless.”

  “I know.”

  “Who are you?” she asked quietly.

  He glanced at her and continued what he was doing. “I’m Denton Manning,” he said with a smile. “You’re always asking me that.”

  “What’s your real name?”

  “I just told you. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Perhaps because this isn’t your home. It feels like you’re only here temporarily.” She made a gesture with her good arm. “A home has personal items, like photos of your parents, objects that mean something to you, or even little special mementos. None of that is here. Your personal stamp is completely missing.”

  Denton perused the walls with their tasteful prints, perhaps a little too sterile for his taste, but they weren’t bad. He tried to think of what he might have left in the apartment to give him away. He was careful not to leave anything behind in case Tom came in. At first there was the chance that Tom would talk Sadie into snooping. But now that Sadie was dead, Tom could always find a way to do it himself. Management had copies of keys.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “I recognized it the first time I came here. So who are you?”

  “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

  Quilla sat, but she stared at her plate and waited for him to speak.

  “Everything I tell you is in confidence. You aren’t allowed to talk about it to anyone, including Hattie, your father, or Regina or even Irving.”

  Quilla nodded.

  “I’m with Customs.”

  “And?”

  “I’m working on an undercover case against Tom Goodwill. That’s as much as I can tell you.”

  “What does this have to do with Sadie?”

  “We don’t think Sadie was involved. She was Tom’s mistress, so we really don’t know how she fits into the equation.”

  “So what are you doing about Sadie’s death?”

  “There’s nothing much we can do right now. It’s in the jurisdiction of the local and park police.”

  “And they aren’t doing anything. How can you let it go at that? You’re in a position to do something. You knew Sadie. You gave her Lucky. Don’t you care?”

  “I care. But I’m not the local law enforcement. And because of my job, I can’t push the envelope.”

  “You can talk to them.”

  “We can’t discuss what we’re doing with anyone. We don’t know who are friends with the Goodwills. For as large as Alexandria is, the social elite is a small community. You know that much through Hattie.”

  That was true enough, Quilla thought. She wanted to tell him about Sadie’s diary, but she wasn’t ready to just yet. Since he was a government agent, he’d have to take it from her. Also, Sadie had many personal passages in it. She would not like to see a bunch of men laughing over her deepest fears and needs. They just wouldn’t understand. Some things should be kept private.

  Finally Quilla picked up her fork and began to eat, but the food was tasteless. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth before?” she asked.

  “I can’t go around telling everyone that I’m an undercover agent.”

  “I’m just anyone?”

  He raked a frustrated hand over his head. “It goes on a need-to-know basis.”

  “And Jake?”

  “He works with me.”

  Quilla was so angry she could barely stand the sight of Denton. She didn’t know this man at all. And she’d trusted him more than she’d trusted anyone for a very long time.

  Just another reminder. You can’t trust a man.

  “Now you’re pissed.”

  “I’m past that. You knew all this time that something was going on and you didn’t say a word.”

  “I can’t talk to you about government investigations.”

  “You didn’t have to make it seem as if I didn’t know what I was talking about,” she snapped. “I should go home.”

  “Forget it. The killer’s still out there, remember?”

  Her father arrived and delivered Lucky, who was happy after her walk outside.

  “You’ve got a nice little business there. We’ve been pretty busy all day. Never knew people could be so passionate about their animals.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your store is certainly evidence of that.”

  Quilla used everything she had not to take out her anger on him.

  “You don’t have to work all day, Dad.” Although she could use his help, she didn’t expect him to work every day. Even she had time off.

/>   “I don’t mind. I’ll be there until closing. The quicker I learn everything, the quicker I can work alone.”

  “Don’t you have things to do?” She knew he was dating. She was sure his girlfriend wanted to spend some time with him. Plus, there were the holiday parties, the shopping. He must have a million things to do.

  “My time’s my own. I’m retired.”

  “I appreciate your helping out.”

  “Anything for my girl.”

  But Quilla stiffened. She wasn’t ready to be his little girl. She didn’t want to be around anyone. She went in the spare bedroom and closed the door.

  Quilla was listening to the news the next morning when a reporter announced a body had been found at the edge of the Potomac. Joggers had found it early that morning.

  “I have to go. I know it’s Sadie,” Quilla said to Irving.

  “You can’t leave the building. It’s still too dangerous. Besides, what if he’s there?”

  “I’ll go with you or without you, but I’m going. I have to. He’s not going to shoot me with both the park police and Alexandria local police surrounding the place.”

  She ran back to the bedroom and selected an outfit. It wasn’t easy to wash with her arm still so sore. She moved it gingerly and still it ached. And even the little chore of dressing tired her out.

  Eventually, she dressed and rushed Irving out of the apartment. Her father and Regina were still managing the store and she was told to stay away. She had nothing else to do with her time.

  She hoped she was right about the killer. But since no one could identify him, she wouldn’t know if he was there or not. So he’d feel safe going to the site, just like an arsonist who stayed in the vicinity to view the blaze.

  At least the heavy traffic was heading in the opposite direction toward D.C. and they weren’t in the bumper-to-bumper mess. It took only a few minutes for them to reach the area. With so many cars parked there, they had to park across the street and wait for a lull in traffic from both directions before they could cross the parkway to the Potomac side.

  The snow was two inches deep, and Quilla wished she’d stopped by her apartment to get her boots. But she knew her father and Regina would have put up a fight, and she wasn’t sure she could have persuaded them as easily as she had Irving.