The Perfect-Perfect Plan

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  My hands rove all over his strong muscular back, pulling him into me. “Phillip,” I mutter against his chest.

  His nose trails across the side of my cheek and then his lips softly mold against mine in a perfect first kiss. Slipping past my lips our tongues meet, creating a rising hot steam between us that supersedes the shower moisture still lingering in the air. Passion soars directly to my core, causing my heart to skip beats and my body to tingle all over. Emotions flood my senses, leaving me breathless. It has been a long time since I have been kissed and his tastes delicious.

  When we break apart, I feel weak. “Oh Phillip,” I say in a shaky breath.

  “That was nice,” he says gazing into me with lust-filled eyes. “That was really nice.”

  “It most definitely was,” I agree with him.

  “Okay, let’s get you dressed and off your feet.”

  Today I opt for a knee-length, soft blue skirt, simply because it makes going to the bathroom easier. The ensemble is topped with a white button-up blouse. Once I’ve dried my hair, I find Phillip sitting at the edge of my bed waiting for me to come out.

  “Straight to the couch, young lady,” he orders me, pointing at the hallway. “And while I take my shower and shave, you’d better not be up and about.” He scrubs a palm across his morning-stubbled face.

  Now’s my chance.

  “Absolutely not,” I quickly agree. “But let me get my phone in case my mother calls again.”

  He arranges me on the couch and places a pillow under my leg. Lucy watches him from across the room. “All good?” he asks once he has covered me in a brown throw.

  “All good,” I assure him. “I won’t even try to jog around until you get back.”

  He chuckles. “Okay. I’ll hurry though … in case you get a burr up your ass.”

  He grabs his toiletry case and heads down the hall. When the sound of the water can be heard, I pull up my list of favorites and dial my mother.

  “How are you dear?” she asks, recognizing me from caller ID.

  “I’m fine. Phillip cooked breakfast and then he placed a bag over my leg so I could shower. And I haven’t had a pain pill yet today.”

  “That’s wonderful. I hope you’ll be able to recover quickly.”

  “Me too,” I agree. “Listen Mom, when y’all came by the apartment last Saturday, did you or Dad have a banana? It’s not a big deal, but I really need to know.”

  “Well, I know I didn’t. Hang on.” She screams in my ear, “Roger, did you eat one of Hannah’s bananas?”

  “No, why?” I hear him hollering back.

  “Why dear?” My mother asks coming back on the line.

  “There was a partially eaten one on my countertop. And another thing, Lucy’s treats were in her bowl instead of her regular food.”

  “Roger, did you put the cat treats in Lucy’s bowl?” she screams in my ear again.

  “Little Friskies,” I hear him respond.

  “Did you cut yourself on anything to drip blood on my floor? Did you go through my purse? Did you roll my study chair out? Did you use my sticky pad?” Numerous questions come rolling out and I can feel my heart wildly thumping inside.

  “No, honey,” she answers after a series of additional relay screams to my dad. “What’s going on?”

  “If you didn’t do any of those things, then someone else has been in my apartment.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Hannah

  “Now, honey, who would’ve been in your apartment?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. But someone’s been in here.” My lungs expand, sucking in a worried breath. “There weren’t any signs of forced entry. The only explanation is that someone used a key.”

  The water shuts off and a moment later I hear an electric razor.

  “Who has a key to your apartment?” she logically asks.

  “Only you and Dad.” I let out a long shaky sigh. “Mom, what if it was Phillip?”

  “Phillip! Why in the world would he want in your apartment?”

  “I don’t know. But he had my fanny pack, and it had my keys in it. And he did leave you guys with me to run those errands last Saturday. And I can’t help but remember he didn’t want to leave before those detectives came by, but then he did. What if he came here?”

  “But honey, why? It doesn’t make any sense for him to come to your apartment. After all, he’s there right now. If he had any ulterior motives, he could’ve just waited until you were asleep. But still, what could you possibly have that he would want?”

  I sigh, knowing she is right. I don’t have a stash of hidden cash, expensive jewelry, priceless works of art, or any valuable one-of-a kind antiques. “I can’t think of anything.”

  A blow dryer comes on.

  Dad has been listening in. “Honey, I’ll bet you anything maintenance came by and made themselves at home. You know, like spraying for bugs, something like that. Did you have any money missing from your purse?”

  “You know, I haven’t checked. I’ll do that.” I can’t right now because Phillip is using the bathroom connected to my bedroom, not to mention he wanted me to stay put.

  “Well, if nothing’s missing, it could’ve been something as simple as the landlord doing a house inspection to make sure you’re not tearing the place up,” Mom suggests.

  “You paid a pet fee,” my dad reminds me. “Maybe they were checking to make sure Lucy’s not peeing on the carpets.” My dad waits a beat. “It’s probably nothing to worry about,” he says in a calming voice. “But just to be on the safe side, call the business office and see if they had you scheduled for a check.”

  “Hannah, please don’t sabotage your relationship with Phillip,” Mom begs. “He’s a keeper. I just know it.”

  Completely discounting my mother’s words of wisdom, as soon as I’m off the phone, all I can think about is that Phillip took my keys and came into my home. He invaded my safe space, and I don’t like it. Following my dad’s advice, I look up the number for the business office, but just as my fingers touch the pad, the hair dryer shuts off. Darn it. I hold off on calling them until I’m positive Phillip can’t hear me.

  We stay in the living room watching TV until noon. Phillip prepares two grilled cheese sandwiches, and we dine on the balcony that overlooks the alleyway. My garage is one floor below. It’s the most unromantic place I can think of and it makes me wonder why I chose this apartment. And now after someone, even a maintenance man, has made himself at home, as soon as possible, I am moving. And next time, I’m purchasing my own place.

  “This is good,” I tell Phillip as I take another bite. It’s a simple sandwich, but he was so nice to cook it. The thing that is driving me crazy is the one-half banana on my plate, the whole split between our lunches. There’s no way I’m eating that thing.

  “I told you I’d take care of you,” he says, crunching into a chip. “Are you feeling any pain?”

  “No, I’m actually feeling pretty good.”

  His phone rings from his jean pocket and he digs around for it. “It’s my uncle,” he tells me and places the phone on speaker.

  “Hey, Uncle Jimmy, what have you got for me? And Hannah’s with us on speaker.”

  “How are you feeling?” the detective asks me.

  “I’m feeling great. I told Phillip I was going for a jog later today.”

  Det. Andrews chuckles. “Good for you.” He pauses. “We went over to talk to Douglas Vanover, the guy who mowed you over. You should see that mansion he lives in. My jaw is still dragging on the floor. We’re talking twelve or thirteen thousand square feet on a large plot of land. It’s over in that elaborate part of the Royalty High Country Club. It took two security gates to get to the front door. Then Millie, the personal chef, told me it was a school in-service day and Mr. Vanover had taken his children down to Glen Rose to that dinosaur park. She said Carol Vanover, the guy’s wife, left earlier that morning with their driver – can you believe it, a driver? Anyway, she was supposedly at yoga.
It’s safe to say, the Vanover’s are rich beyond anything I can comprehend.”

  “Was the chef able to give you any reason as to why he might have purposely run over Hannah?” Phillip asks.

  “She wasn’t aware it even happened. She was tight-lipped when it came to divulging any family secrets. I didn’t get much out of her, other than she thought Mr. Vanover was a very patient man. She wouldn’t go into detail but gave the indication that his wife is extremely demanding, and that Mr. Vanover puts up with her. Other than that, it was a bust.” He pauses again. “I’m going to head over to his investment office and see if I can get anything out of his employees. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Jimmy. I appreciate your efforts.”

  “Me too,” I say in closing.

  Once he hangs up, Phillip lays his phone on the table beside us. “If he’s rich, maybe he can pay you a big settlement and take care of all your medical bills.”

  My head nods in agreement. “My insurance provides good coverage. But I suppose I deserve something for my pain and suffering. Maybe I could use the settlement money as a down payment on a place of my own.”

  “You’re thinking of moving?” he asks, his face taking on a curious expression.

  “Yeah, I mean … this view sucks.” I gesture at the guy across the alleyway who’s working on his car. All bent over, I can see the crack of his buttock. It’s not a pretty sight, especially when trying to eat one’s lunch. “I think I can do better.”

  A place where I can control who comes in and out of my house and has a nice security system, I think.

  “My condo has a vista overlooking the Trinity River. Maybe you should come and live with me.”

  I frown. “We barely know each other. Lucy barely knows you. It’s too soon to think along those lines.”

  “Well, not right now, of course,” he says backtracking. “I’m only mentioning it because a few months down the road we might want to live together. Please Hannah, just hang tight for a short while and let’s see how our relationship develops. Maybe we’ll go in on a place together.”

  “I’d like that,” I say.

  Unless I find out you invaded my apartment without my consent.

  Lucy has been on the balcony with us. She loves it when she gets to come outside. After fully grooming herself, she had stretched out on her mat, enjoying the warmth of a perfect sunshiny day in the upper seventies. But after sitting up and giving a big yawn, she stretches and goes to the door and stands there, like one of us had better let her back inside. Catering to her whim, Phillip carries our dishes back inside. While he rinses them, he suggests I stretch out on the bed for a while.

  “Okay. Come be with me. We can either read or watch TV,” I suggest.

  “Let’s read.” He searches through his bag for his tablet. Mine is already on my nightstand. He helps me get situated and then he joins me on the opposite side. He pounds the pillow into place and gets himself comfy.

  All afternoon we read together. My good leg is touching his and every now and then he rubs his toes against me. His presence is so relaxing, and I can’t help but want him to be the man in my life. Please don’t sabotage this, I beg myself. But even as I internally plead with my emotions, I can’t stop the nagging feeling that it wasn’t a maintenance worker or my landlord. And if not, did Phillip invade my privacy? Who is really lying on the bed beside me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Hannah

  Sometime later I wake on top of my covers and Phillip is not beside me. While I don’t hear any noises, I assume he didn’t want to wake me and has probably relocated to the living room. I take advantage of his absence and get myself into the bathroom with my phone in hand. After closing the door, I turn on the exhaust fan full blast, get my butt on the closed lid of the toilet and give Melinda a call to see how everything is going at the bank.

  “Everything is perfectly normal,” she relays to me. “Did you ever find out who ran over you?”

  “Douglas Vanover. His name doesn’t sound familiar. But his wife’s name is Carol Vanover. Don’t we have an account for someone by that name?”

  “I believe we do, but we have several customers with that last name. Let me check for you.” Tapping noises from her long fingernails can be heard through the phone while she searches around on her computer. “You’re right,” she says coming back on the line. “There aren’t any accounts under the name of Douglas Vanover, or even jointly with the two of them. But Carol Vanover has two accounts here. One’s a general account with fifty million dollars in it. The other is under a trust with Joe Avery serving as the trustee of the Carol Ann Sheldon Vanover Trust.” She gasps. “Jesus, the balance is – holy cow – close to a billion dollars.” She pauses. “Oh, there are two linked accounts for Henry and Sophia Vanover. Each account has a little over five million in it. Dang, the Vanover’s have a lot of money.”

  “According to the detective who is looking into Douglas Vanover, they live in a house equal to the money,” I tell her. “My father thought it might have been retaliation after being turned down for a loan. But I think we can rule out that motive if they have that kind of money.”

  She laughs. “I agree. Even if they would’ve wanted a loan, with their kind of collateral, we wouldn’t have turned the request down.” She pauses. “With mega bucks like that, you might want to think about suing him … even if he didn’t intend to run you over,” she urges. “After all, he still hurt you.”

  “Yeah, the thought is beginning to cross my mind,” I agree. “Okay, thank you for the information and I’ll see you on Wednesday,” I say in closing.

  My next call is to Olivia Mitchell who manages the rental office. Not only do I pay my monthly rent to her, she’s also in charge of maintenance services.

  “No, Ms. Williams, we don’t have a record of anyone coming into your apartment. And you’re not scheduled for a bug spray for another two months.” She pauses. “Were there any signs of forced entry?”

  “No. And as far as I know, there’s nothing missing.”

  “Well, we didn’t send out a maintenance worker,” she assures me. “Maybe you should report it to the police.”

  “Yes, I think I will. Thank you.”

  Turning off the fan and grabbing up my crutches, I pull myself off the toilet lid and head for my purse. When I came home from the hospital, I noticed it had been moved from its normal spot on the dresser. Though it didn’t contain much money, robbers generally took cash.

  Leaning against my bed, I dig through my wallet. After a careful inventory, it appears my money and credit cards are intact. But then I notice the leather fob on the bank keyring is sticking outside the flap. I am very meticulous with those keys and always make sure the entire keychain is well within the pocket.

  My spinning thoughts converge at once, hitting me like a ton of bricks. Phillip wanted the bank keys.

  My God, Phillip robbed the bank.

  Those keys had to be what he wanted. The whole time he was at the hospital with me, he must’ve been plotting and planning it. No, wait a second. I was targeted. That’s why it felt like someone had been following me around for a few weeks prior to the accident. He and Douglas Vanover must’ve been planning it all along. They were in on this together. Mr. Vanover purposely ran me over, and then Phillip accompanied me to the hospital so he could get his grubby hands on my fanny pack which contained my apartment keys. Once he had those, he gained entry to my apartment, rummaged through my purse, accessed the bank keys, and helped himself to a banana.

  The whole time he was sitting beside my hospital bed and holding my hand – giving me the impression he cared – he must’ve been spying on me while I was punching in the access code for my phone. It never occurred to me that I needed to shield the number whenever I was making any calls.

  My thoughts go back to the banana. Lucy must’ve whined for some food, prompting him to put the wrong morsels in her bowl. I’d bet anything he reached down to pet her beautiful
multi-colored fur and she scratched the shit out him, causing him to bleed on the floor. She does not like for people to interrupt her meals.

  It all makes sense now.

  I need to get the police over here to take a sample from the blood droplets. But how is that going to be possible if Phillip is in the living room? What will he do to me to keep from calling them? Will he use force? Or will he lie and say he cut himself on something after we came home together. While I’m certain the red blots were there when we came in, it would be my word against his and, conveniently for him, his uncle is a police detective. And now that he’s infiltrated my apartment, he can claim any telltale signs are here because he’s been taking care of me. I give him credit; his plan is genius.

  Straining my ears for even the slightest noises, I can’t hear even muted sounds coming from the TV. Everything seems quiet throughout the apartment. Maybe he fell asleep on the couch. If he did, perhaps I can take a cotton swab and collect a sample and have it tested. Then how will I compare it to his blood? I’m not sure how this works, but I know I need the sample.

  Adjusting my crutches under my armpits, I flounder myself off the bed. That’s when I notice a note on my bedside table. Picking it up, I read:

  Hannah,

  There was an emergency at the hospital. You were fast asleep, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’m sorry to leave you alone, but hopefully I’ll be back before you even wakeup.

  Love, Phillip

  P.S. I took your apartment keys from your fanny pack so as not to leave your apartment unlocked. Please don’t be mad at me.

  P.S.S. You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping.

  What a relief to discover he’s not here. Or what if he came back and forgot to remove the note, or purposely didn’t remove it for fear of waking me? As quietly as possible, I sneak down the hall as if I’m a thief in my own home. A relieved sigh comes from my lungs when I find the living room empty.