Discarded Promises

by Candice Poarch

  “Shut up, you fool. You’re just sore because Melissa likes me. If you were anything in bed she wouldn’t have come to mine.”

  Edward tossed his drink in Tom’s face and leaped across the table after him.

  “Come on, guys,” Sidney cut in, physically pulling the two apart. “Take it easy. We can’t afford to get distracted now. We’ve got too much at stake to mess up now. We’ve been working on this for a long time. Now sit down.” Sidney put his chair between them and glanced at the lone man sitting in a corner nursing a drink. When Edward went after Tom, the man had focused on them.

  “Just cool it.”

  Edward leaned in closer to the table. “You’re nobody’s friend. You can’t be faithful to anyone. Friends or women.”

  “Like you’re faithful to your wife,” Tom said, using a napkin to wipe the drink off his face.

  “But the three of us, we’re supposed to be friends to the death.”

  “Come on, Edward. I’m dropping you off at home,” Sidney said. “You can’t drive. And Tom, you take care of business. And stay away from Melissa.”

  Tom sent sparks at Edward’s retreating back and finished sopping up the liquor with a napkin, touching a sore spot on his cheek where Edward had connected before Sidney pulled them apart. He didn’t get a chance to get in one hit. That was all it would have taken to flatten the bastard. Nobody messed with him. Who the hell did Edward think he was?

  Denton and Quilla arrived at her father’s house an hour before dinner. Quilla brought gifts for her father and Joyce and handed them to her father when he answered the door. Denton took the casseroles to Joyce.

  “May I help?” Quilla asked. The table was already set. Candles were on each side of a pretty floral centerpiece.

  “Everything is almost ready,” Joyce said. “Thank you for everything.” She wore a long comfortable dress of vivid colors, much like the gift Quilla purchased for her.

  “What would you like to drink?” Owen said, and Quilla flinched. “I have sodas, lemonade, and bottled water.”

  “Is that homemade lemonade?” Denton asked, breaking the tension.

  “Yes, it is,” Joyce said. “I squeezed those lemons myself.”

  “I’ll have the lemonade.”

  “You, Quilla?”

  “Same for me.” When her dad had said “drink,” she thought he’d include alcoholic beverages, and for a moment the nightmares from before swamped her.

  Owen hung Quilla’s and Denton’s coats in the small closet and poured the drinks.

  “There are crudités on the table,” Joyce said.

  Quilla’s stomach was too queasy for vegetables and dip. She took a sip of the soothing lemonade. It was cold and refreshing, sweet but not too sweet. Quilla didn’t want to sit in the living room like a stranger. It was so odd being in the house with a date. During her teenage years, she was too embarrassed and afraid to bring them home because of her father’s drinking. She never knew what he would do or say.

  Actually, Denton was the first man she’d brought home. Figure that. She brought her first date home at twenty-nine.

  She and Denton wandered to the kitchen. Her father followed them.

  “Great lemonade,” Denton said. “And the food smells delicious.”

  Tom and Sidney met for drinks a few days later.

  “You had to screw up everything, didn’t you?” Tom wore his spiffy Brooks Brothers suit.

  “I don’t know what all the hoopla is about. I didn’t go to bed with his wife.”

  “Same difference. There are lines even friends don’t cross. And Edward’s so mad I’m worried he’s going to screw up the entire thing. Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

  “I don’t need a lecture from you.”

  Sidney gazed at Tom with disgust. “Wendy passed me in the street and wouldn’t even speak.”

  “She’s upset with me and taking it out on all my friends. Tell you the truth, she never liked you.”

  Sidney glared at Tom. “Is everything on schedule?”

  Tom nodded.

  “When will it be shipped out?”

  “January fourteenth.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll get back to you on that.”

  “You’re always so secretive. You think we’re all as dishonest as you?”

  “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be in this with me.”

  “I don’t intend to leave my family when this is over. I just want an early retirement.”

  “You’ll have it.”

  “Stay away from Melissa. He’s going to kill her if she comes anywhere near you again.”

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  “Even the pretty boys have to take a backseat sometime.” Sidney left and Tom was glad for it. He stayed in the bar and drank another shot before he left and drove to his hotel.

  Everybody was turning their backs on him. His son was busy when he’d tried to see him, he didn’t have time. Something going on at school, he’d said. Wouldn’t even see him on Christmas Day. Tom had never spent the holidays alone.

  But he wasn’t sleeping alone every night. If Melissa wasn’t available, someone else was. Tom smiled. There was always a willing woman.

  Christmas gave way to New Year’s and Quilla returned to work. She wasn’t a danger to anyone now, even if someone else had killed Lester. But late morning, Denton called her, asking her to get Lucky. He had to leave in the middle of the night. She had never returned the key Denton had given her when she was staying with him.

  The office door was open when she passed, and she peeped in. “Hi, Melissa.”

  When Melissa glanced in her direction, Quilla stopped.

  “My God. What happened to you?” Quilla asked.

  “Oh, I, umm, bumped into a wall.” She ducked her head so Quilla couldn’t see her face clearly.

  “Who did this?” Quilla came farther into the office.

  Melissa shook her head. “I’m really busy right now.”

  Fury almost choked Quilla. “Is it worth it? All the jewels, the clothes? Is it worth this?”

  “What do you know?”

  Quilla was shocked at the anger Melissa directed at her. It was her mother making excuses again.

  “You’ve got your own store. You’re educated. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Quilla wouldn’t back down. “I had to work my ass off since high school to get where I am. Nobody handed anything to me on a silver platter, lady. But I know I wouldn’t put up with some SOB using me as a punching bag. And neither should you.”

  “I don’t want to hear a lecture, because it’s none of your business.”

  “Fine. But next time you might not be so lucky.” Quilla sighed, then lowered her voice. Obviously Melissa was afraid. “My mother put up with beatings for years. That kind of fear isn’t healthy. Especially when there are other options now. More than there were decades ago.”

  That seemed to get her interest. “Your father beat your mother? I met your old man. He seems nice. Not like—”

  “He was only violent when he was drunk. But he was a mean drunk.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from this place?”

  Melissa jumped and dropped the papers in her hand.

  Edward Walden stalked into the room, his angry words lashing out. “You’re not working here anymore, you hear me? Get your stuff. You’re leaving.”

  “Did you do this to her?” Quilla asked. “Look at her face. You’re a crazy man. You need help.”

  “Mind your business.”

  “Somebody should beat you like that. See how you feel.”

  Edward stared at her with naked hatred, but Quilla stared back, unflinching, then she turned to Melissa.

  “Melissa, you don’t have to go with him. You can get help. I’ll help you. Report him, Melissa.”

  But Melissa had her purse in her hand and she was marching around the desk. “I have to go,” she whispered
, fear evident in her voice.

  “Don’t go with him.”

  “You mind your business,” Edward said to Quilla. “And stay out of ours.”

  “You deserve better. When you’re hanging on to him you close the door to good things that can come into your life.”

  But Melissa wasn’t listening any more than Quilla’s mother had. Edward grabbed Melissa’s arm and pulled her out the door so fast she almost tripped. Melissa didn’t look back, not once.

  “If anything happens to her, I’m reporting you, Edward Walden,” Quilla shouted after them. Quilla heard the outside door open and close.

  It was just like the bedroom door her mother had closed when her husband was pounding the dickens out of her.

  Quilla turned the light out and closed the door. Poor Melissa. She was so afraid, she’d failed to lock up the office before she left.

  With an acute sense of despair and helplessness, Quilla made her way down the hall to Denton’s apartment. The one thing she knew was she didn’t have control over other people.

  Lucky greeted her cheerfully at the door. Gathering the dog in her arms, she choked back a sob.

  It was the second week in January and the holiday lights had come down. So had the wreaths, the trees, and other decorations.

  It was a dreary day, and the weather report called for four inches of snow.

  Even the agents knew there was some estrangement between Tom and Edward, and Sidney seemed the peacemaker between them. Agents followed Tom and his friends twenty-four hours a day, and so far Tom hadn’t shipped his equipment.

  Wendy worked in the office half days with the company’s vice president, who Tom thought had a crush on her. Funny, Denton hadn’t recognized it until now. But looking back, the clues were there.

  Wendy didn’t speak to Tom or acknowledge that he was even present. Sometimes, Denton thought, if she’d had a dagger in her hand, she would have plunged it right into Tom’s heart. And Tom strutted around like a cocky rooster.

  Denton had just gotten word from Arizona that semiconductor-manufacturing equipment was missing. The paperwork was doctored to look as though all the equipment was accounted for, but in reality, some was missing.

  The agents were following every contact Tom had made. They’d discovered he’d used disposable cell phones and there might be contacts they were unaware of, but they had to get that shipment before it landed in the wrong hands.

  Denton was being questioned by George again.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  “We’re still on top of things,” Denton said, trying to placate the man.

  “It’s taking too damn long. I want him out of my company,” he demanded.

  “He will be soon, if we can just hold our heads a little longer.”

  “Make it quick,” George said and left.

  George’s wife was now managing the apartment building until they could hire someone to take Sadie’s place. She worked mornings only.

  Quilla had been angry about Edward’s treatment of Melissa. It had taken Denton awhile to calm her down. And seeing Melissa’s face had made the little progress Owen had made with her backfire. Owen was back to square one.

  Denton knew Owen was to blame for his treatment of his wife. He also believed in forgiveness. But he didn’t live with the man, and he didn’t see his mother beaten to a pulp. Who was he to say how Quilla should feel?

  Denton made his way to the house where they had set up their temporary office.

  “Just got some bad news,” Jake said.

  “What?”

  “Tom has disappeared.”

  “How?”

  “He gave the agent the slip tonight. Must have switched cars in the garage.”

  “His car is still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  The first thing that flew through Denton’s mind was that Wendy had finally killed him, or George had gotten tired of waiting and taken care of the deed himself.

  “Have they checked out his contacts?”

  “We’re doing it now, but we don’t have a thing so far,” Jake said.

  “And we still don’t know where the equipment is?” Denton asked, growing frustrated.

  “Nope. We’re following some leads. We have nothing yet.”

  “Damn.”

  When Denton left, he stopped by Quilla’s home. He should go to his own home, but he’d gotten too accustomed to having Quilla around.

  Chapter 18

  Two days passed before they tracked down info on a shipment through one of Tom’s contacts. Tom, however, was still missing. The semiconductor-manufacturing equipment had been tucked away in a huge shipment of grain waiting to be exported. But which one?

  “I want the SOB,” Denton said. “Not just the shipment.”

  “We’re still searching, but it’s like he dropped off the face of the earth,” Jake said.

  They had long ago discovered the money trail through Sidney, who had the initial payment stashed in a foreign bank. Treasury was in the process of making an arrest.

  Denton left for home, showered and dressed quickly, and picked Quilla up.

  “What if you get a call in the middle of the play?” she asked.

  “Then we have to leave.” She was wearing a dress again. A blue one this time. Denton felt guilty for not taking her out on more dates. But most of the time, his time wasn’t his own. He was stealing a little time tonight to be with her.

  Marcy had complained long and hard about their lack of social engagements. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes. He expected a complaint from Quilla about having to leave the play, but surprisingly none came.

  They drove the parkway toward D.C. and crossed the 14th Street Bridge. They passed the Pentagon, the National Monuments, and museums on their way to the Warner Theatre.

  “Did Loretta get home okay?” he asked. He turned on an easy-listening station and soft music poured from the speakers.

  “Yes. She already knew Sadie was her mother. It must be tough for her.”

  “At least she has brothers to help her.”

  At the theater, Denton finally relaxed. He felt totally wired lately, like a shot of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. What he needed was a shot of bourbon, but Quilla didn’t drink alcohol, so he refrained from drinking around her.

  She smelled sweet, and all he really wanted to do was take her home and to bed.

  The play was a comedy, exactly what Denton needed to release the tension of the past month.

  As they drove back to Virginia, Denton said, “Maybe we’ll have a little time for us tonight.”

  “Umm.” Quilla knew exactly what he meant. They hadn’t gone to bed together in a week because of Denton’s late nights. Poor Lucky rarely got a chance to see him anymore.

  He turned the music down low, reached across the console, and gathered her hand in his. She was going to miss him when he left.

  At the light, Denton leaned over. His large hands held her face gently, then his mouth covered hers hungrily, sending shivers of desire racing through her. Her hands were all over him, stroking his chest. His hands cupped her breasts, stroking her nipples through the fabric. They kissed frantically, he ran his hands up her legs, and when they heard a horn beep behind him, they jumped apart as if a lightning bolt had struck them.

  “Hold that thought,” Denton said.

  Just as they drove forward, his cell phone rang.

  “Oh, no.” Not now, not now!, Denton answered it and listened.

  “Change in plan. I have to drop you off and leave right away.”

  “What happened?”

  “They found Tom’s body at the edge of the Potomac near the G.W. Parkway at Four Mile Run.”

  “Oh my God. Someone murdered him?”

  “I don’t know what happened yet.”

  The possibility that Wendy or George had killed him flashed before him again. In the past, he didn’t really believe they’d kill him. It was just transitory. But now . . .

&nbs
p; “A lot of people associated with Tom are dying. Lester is dead, so he certainly didn’t murder him,” Quilla said.

  Denton pulled into a parking space in front of her store and braked.

  “I’m sorry we can’t spend more time together.”

  “I understand.”

  He kissed her, then she left the car. Denton watched her open the door to the stairs and disappear through them. When he saw the apartment lights pop on, he pulled into traffic.

  History was repeating itself. He was deep into the case and he was working extra-long hours, leaving little time to spend with Quilla. Soon she’d grow dissatisfied.

  Denton turned on Washington. When he arrived at Four Mile Run, there was a bevy of cop cars, the coroner, and crime-scene investigators.

  “Any idea of the cause of death?” Denton asked.

  “Haven’t done an autopsy yet, but I think the knife wounds may be a clear indication.”

  Quilla was baking dog biscuits when Denton called the next day.

  “Well, hello, stranger,” she said.

  He winced, but at least she sounded cheerful instead of resentful. He waited for a round of “You’re never here.”

  “Sorry about last night,” he said.

  “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I know the score.”

  “I need that diary.”

  “I have it down here. I was just flipping through it today.” Melissa and Alice arrived at the shop, and Quilla waved to them.

  “I’m going to swing by in a couple of hours to pick it up. Did you find anything useful?”

  “No more than I’ve already told you. Have you had any sleep? You sound tired and grumpy.”

  “I’ll sleep tonight—hopefully.”

  “See you soon.”

  When Quilla hung up the phone, Melissa asked. “Is that Sadie’s diary?”

  Quilla nodded. “You knew about it?”

  “She talked about it.”