Easy Loving

by Sheryl Lynn

  “I still eat like a horse.” He opened a plastic menu.

  “Lucky you. You always had a great metabolism.” No, no, no, she thought. Not old home week. None of this awkward inanity and wandering around a dreamy past. She pushed her menu away. “I’ll have coffee.”

  “They tore down Willie’s Pancake House. They’re widening the freeway. It closed two years ago.”

  Willie’s…They’d been sitting in a corner booth in that tacky little coffee shop the first time Easy had told her he loved her. She knew she’d made a big mistake coming here. Especially as the inanities continued while the waitress took their order and brought coffee. Easy asked about where she’d gone to college and why she’d decided to move back to Colorado Springs. A million questions bubbled in her throat She wanted to know about his parents and his sister, and what he’d done in the army and if he had gone to college and where he lived. His claim to be a private investigator roused her curiosity. She told herself she didn’t want to know, she didn’t want to care.

  He had not known she was pregnant. After spending twelve years blaming him for her loss, she had no idea how to feel about him now. On one level, he frightened her. He held the power to ruin her career and her engagement. He angered her. He had no right to make accusations about Jeffrey. Yet, his half smile enchanted her. Each time she met his obsidian eyes, her heart did a little skip. Under the table, thankfully out of view, her knees trembled.

  The waitress served Easy a cheeseburger and fries with a side of coleslaw. Catherine noticed the besotted smile the young woman focused on Easy. His charm hadn’t subsided in the least. If anything, he was more attractive than ever.

  Easy dumped ketchup on his plate. “So you don’t eat meat. What about fish?”

  She shook her head. “I eat eggs and cheese, but no meat of any kind.”

  “Maybe I’ll try it. You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She dumped artificial sweetener in her coffee.

  He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, how did you manage to pay cash for your house?”

  She jerked. The coffee spoon dropped from her suddenly numb fingers. The spoon clattered on the tabletop. “How in the world do you know that?”

  “It’s public information, Tink. Anyone can go to the courthouse and look up property transactions. You’re the titleholder, no liens against the deed. Where did you get the money? Your parents?”

  “How dare you snoop around in my private—”

  “It isn’t private. It’s public. And I’m not snooping. I’m trying to figure out why Livman is interested in you.” The words hung between them. He rolled his eyes and thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

  “How did you mean it?”

  He rolled a hand in a gesture to indicate he was starting over. “Roberta Livman was only twenty-six years old when she died. She had no children, no business debt, no major medical bills. Livman was only thirty-nine, no children, employed and perfectly healthy. Yet, he took out an insurance policy on her for half a million dollars. Romoco Insurance fought the claim, but they finally had to pay off.”

  Catherine chewed her lower lip, unwilling to grasp his meaning. She latched instead onto Jeffrey’s age. “He isn’t thirty-nine, he’s thirty-six.”

  “Thirty-nine last year. He’s forty now.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s thirty-six.”

  Easy made a disgusted sounding snort and turned his attention to the cheeseburger.

  “Why would he lie about his age? Men don’t do that.”

  “This one does. He’s forty. And compared to killing his wife, it’s not that big a deal.”

  She slumped against the seat and folded her arms over her bosom. At the moment she hated knowing Easy so well. Born August fourteenth, he was a Leo—always as graceful, powerful and arrogant as his lion star sign. He’d grown up on Uintah Street in a three-bedroom, one-bath bungalow. His heroes in high school had been astronauts and mountain climbers. He hated his middle name, Zeb-ulon. The only person who’d ever called him by his given name, Earl, had been an English teacher—even his parents called him Easy. He had a diamond-shaped birthmark on his right hip and in the summer the sun caused freckles on his back. His first car had been a Volkswagen Rabbit, and he’d nicknamed it Bugs.

  “The big deal is,” Easy continued, “Livman collected five hundred thousand dollars when Roberta died. That’s not a bad payoff for a year of marriage.”

  She frantically sought a rebuttal. “You can’t know that! My father has sued a lot of insurance companies. I know for a fact that policies and payouts are definitely not public information. Father has to use subpoenas to make insurance companies tell him anything. Even then it’s a hassle.”

  “Roberta’s brother is an insurance adjuster. He has contacts. A half-million payout on a woman who shouldn’t be insured for more than burial costs caused a lot of noise in the industry.”

  Suspicion prickled at her no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Jeffrey liked money, no question about it. He lived in a luxurious condo, wore the best clothes and ate at the best restaurants. He denied himself nothing. She fingered her ring, guessing its value around ten thousand dollars, maybe more. “That proves nothing. Some people think insurance is a sound investment plan. They collect policies like other people collect stamps. That doesn’t mean he killed her.”

  Resenting Easy for rousing suspicion, she tried to imagine any reason why Jeffrey wouldn’t have told her about Roberta. Any reason, that is, except murder.

  “I spoke to the cop who investigated the death. He said there’s nothing at the scene to indicate foul play. Several people saw the Livmans in the park that day, but nobody saw anything unusual.”

  “Then it’s a tragic accident. Leave it alone.”

  “But, the cop has a bad feeling anyway. He said Livman was carrying a cell phone. Some people arrived a few minutes after Roberta fell. They say Livman was staring at his wife, but not making any move to help her. They gave Roberta first aid for ten or fifteen minutes before one of them noticed he had a phone. That’s when Livman called the paramedics.”

  “He—he—he panicked. It’s understandable. I forget things when I’m excited.”

  “He was waiting to make sure she was dead. And guess who the grieving husband called after the paramedics told him his wife was dead on the scene?”

  Catherine’s stomach roiled; she had a bad feeling he was about to tell her something horrible.

  “He called his insurance agent.” Easy waggled his eyebrows. “Witnesses heard him. Paramedics are loading Roberta’s body into an ambulance, and he’s arguing with his insurance agent.”

  Nauseated, Catherine averted her face. “If murder is so obvious, then the police should investigate.”

  “That’s the trouble with a fall. Roberta’s injuries match Livman’s statement about what happened. Nobody other than Livman saw her fall. Unless a witness comes forward or a piece of hard evidence surfaces, the cops don’t have a case to investigate. That’s why I need your help. If Livman confesses—”

  “No!” She recoiled in revulsion. “I will not spy on my fiancé. Besides, how do I know any of what you say is true?”

  “I gave you all I have. You verified the newspaper stories yourself. Look, John Tupper, Roberta’s brother, hired me. He loved his sister as much as I love mine, and I’m his last chance to find justice.”

  “Maybe he isn’t telling you the whole story. Maybe he has a grudge against Jeffrey.”

  Easy leaned back on the bench seat and nodded thoughtfully. “It occurred to me. Grieving relative can’t let it go, needs a scapegoat. Trust me, I didn’t take the man at face value.”

  “So why are you involved when the police won’t do anything?”

  “Livman is a liar, and he uses people. The only thing he cares about is a fast buck. He isolated Roberta from her friends and family. She was afraid of him.”

  “Jeffrey is the gentlest, kin
dest, most patient man I’ve ever met.”

  “Melissa Meyers and Joan Black might disagree with you.”

  She didn’t like the challenging look he gave her. She also didn’t like the sinking suspicion that she stood on the wrong side of this argument. “Who are they?”

  “Former girlfriends. Both of them called the cops when Livman beat them up.”

  His matter-of-factness pricked at her. The sky is blue, horses eat hay, Jeffrey beats up women—all of them plain old facts. “Show me his criminal record.”

  “Both women refused to press charges. Unfortunately the calls occurred before the law changed. Nowadays, someone would go to jail after a domestic call, but back then the cops couldn’t do anything.”

  Catherine opened her mouth to refute his assertions, but nothing came out

  “I asked Melissa and Joan if they would talk to you. They refused. It’s been years since either has had contact with Livman, but both of them are terrified he’ll find out they’ve spoken to me.”

  “Jeffrey likes women! Most of his friends are women. He’s charming. He’s gentle. He’s never hurt me and he never will.”

  “He hates women, Tink.”

  She sipped her coffee, denying his accusation by ignoring it. Get up and walk out, she told herself. Do it now. Don’t listen to this garbage, especially from a man with a reason to carry a huge grudge.

  “Not even his sisters want anything to do with him—”

  “He’s an only child.” She thumped her fist against the tabletop. She wished it were Easy’s head so she could pound some sense into him and make him stop telling lies. “He doesn’t have brothers or sisters.”

  Easy lowered his face onto his hand. His shoulders shook. Catherine soon realized he laughed at her.

  “We’re not even talking about the same man, Easy. This is all some bizarre scheme to drive me crazy!”

  “Tink,” he said in an infuriatingly reasonable tone, “how can you marry this clown if you don’t know anything about him?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, then grabbed the coffee cup to occupy her hands and mouth. The coffee had turned tepid. She warmed the cup from the carafe the waitress had left on the table. “He’s an only child, and his parents are dead. Why would he lie about something like that?”

  Easy lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. Catherine remembered that gesture well—and she hated it. It meant, he was right, she was wrong, so why act like a twit and argue?

  “Can’t you see he’s playing you? Setting you up, telling you what you want to hear. So how much money do you have? Enough that he doesn’t have to alert the insurance companies again?”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” She grabbed her purse. He lunged across the table and caught her arm. His touch seemed to burn through her light cotton sweater. Her in-sides constricted. “Turn me loose.”

  “Stay, please.”

  So angry she quivered, she glared at him. Her muscles burned in her upper arm as she tensed against his hold. He slowly, reluctantly loosened his grip and settled back on the seat.

  “If I had more, I’d give it to you. All I have is her brother, who loved her very much, and a five-hundred-thousand-dollar motive.” He slowly pushed his plate out of the way and leaned his forearms on the table.

  “And a good reason to get even with me.”

  He shook his head in denial. “I could lie and say how I feel about you has nothing to do with this. Truth is, if you weren’t involved, I wouldn’t be either. I’m way out of my league investigating a murder. I need all the help I can get.”

  She searched his face, dismayed by the tugging of her credulous heart. His beautiful dark eyes were earnest; his very posture begged her to heed the truth. “I’m the reason you’re involved?”

  “You remember my sister, Trish. She and John work for the same company. They’re friends. When she found out from him that you were dating Livman, she told me. Things didn’t work out for us, but I always…wished you well.”

  His poignant note touched her. His tender smile arced straight to her soul.

  “I just…I can’t…there’s so much going on in my life right now. I know Jeffrey. What you’re saying about him is so outrageous, how can I believe a word you’re saying?”

  “I’m taking a humongous risk telling you all this. You can go to Livman, tell him John is after him and tell him about me. Then he’ll clam up. If any evidence exists, he’ll destroy it.” His eyes narrowed to flinty slits. “You can blow me off completely and marry him.”

  She sensed he withheld something, but what she couldn’t imagine. All she knew was that sitting here with him was a mistake. His presence roused too many memories, carried too many risks. The girl in her heart still soared at the sight of him.

  “I need some time to think.” She gathered her belongings and stood. This time he made no attempt to stop her. She left the restaurant.

  She knew he followed even before she heard him. She felt him. For an instant she was back in high school when he’d suddenly materialize behind her while she opened her locker. The game had been that he’d whisper something stupid, and she’d have to resist bursting into laughter. If she laughed, he won. She opened her car door. Only then did she look over her shoulder.

  He smiled at her.

  Her insides did a slow melt. “What?” she asked. She looked beyond the parking lot. Clouds ringed the horizon and partially blotted the view of Pikes Peak, but the day seemed spotlight bright. Traffic whizzed by on Academy Boulevard. Jeffrey’s office was less than a quarter mile away. She had a sickening sensation that all her fiancé” needed to do was glance out his office window and he’d see her with Easy.

  It struck her like a pail of water in the face: she didn’t even know if Jeffrey was the jealous type. He didn’t expect her to be jealous. He talked to women on the telephone all the time; in his business he dealt with female closers, lenders and agents.

  Easy, on the other hand, used to have a jealous streak a mile wide. Other males who dared trespass had learned quickly to get out of his way.

  “Remember Fantasia?” he asked.

  Drawn back to the present, she peered curiously at him.

  “You talked me into taking you to see Fantasia. The movie. Remember?”

  Fantasia had been, and still was, her favorite Disney animated feature. The music, artistry and colors, even after countless viewings, held the power to entrance her. “You didn’t want to go, but then you liked it.”

  “When I started the car, the radio was playing some rock and roll song.”

  She smiled before remembering she did not want to encourage him. Still, the image crystallized as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. She and Easy sitting in his Volkswagen, parked in the dark theater lot after the movie let out. For once, he’d been silent, thoughtful—he’d been in awe.

  “You turned the radio off,” she said. “I think that’s the only time you ever drove anywhere without music play-ing.

  “I didn’t appreciate you enough. You were good for me. You showed me a world past the old neighborhood and the football field.”

  She fought the softening within her, but lost the battle before it began. She remembered too much. And she missed him. At least, she missed being in love and being surrounded by a world so bright it filled her with joy merely to breathe. She longed to believe her love for Jeffrey was mature and responsible. In her heart she mourned, knowing what she’d felt for Easy Martel was once in a lifetime, never to be felt again.

  “That was a long time ago.” She slid onto the driver’s seat. He stepped forward before she could close the door. “I have to go.”

  “Whatever you do, whatever you feel, don’t go to Liv-man with what I’ve told you. If I’m wrong, then no harm done. But if I’m right, he’ll spook and I’ll lose him.”

  “I’m supposed to keep secrets from my fiancé? I don’t know about that.” She tugged the door and he stepped out of the way.

  It was only when she almost reached h
ome that she realized that not once had she declared to Easy how much she loved Jeffrey Livman.

  INSIDE DONELLO’S restaurant, Catherine paused near the cash register. For a day and a half she’d been brooding about Jeffrey. At the moment her heart pounded and her stomach ached. Damn that Easy Martel! He hadn’t proved Jeffrey was a murderer, but he’d proved several times over that her fiancé was a compulsive liar.

  Armed with Easy’s information, Catherine had called Vera Livman. Catherine had asked to speak to Jeffrey, and Mrs. Livman had laughed, saying, “Oh my, Jeff doesn’t live with me anymore! He owns a real-estate company down in Colorado Springs. I can give you the telephone number.”

  Catherine had called the real-estate company where Jeffrey worked. In the hopes of learning Jeffrey’s true age, she had come up with a lame story about not knowing if his birthday was the fourteenth or the fifteenth of the month. The broker had gone stone cold on her. Jeffrey Livman, he’d informed her, did not work for the company any longer. The man hung up on her. Jeffrey had never once mentioned leaving the company. Nor had he ever offered a clue as to why the mention of his name would so anger the broker.

  The very worst call had been when, desperate for any confirmation that Jeffrey told the truth about something, she’d called Noreen. Uncertain how to put the question innocuously, Catherine had asked flat out: “I heard a rumor that Jeffrey has been married. Since you’re his friend, maybe you—”

  “I am not his friend,” Noreen had said. “I don’t have anything to do with him.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, I just want—” Noreen, too, had hung up on her.

  After all that, she had to face him. Her fiancé, the liar.

  The hostess approached. Catherine said she was meeting Jeffrey. The woman guided her through the dimly lit restaurant.

  “It’s my beautiful bride-to-be.” Jeffrey stood when she approached the table.

  The only lighting came from tracks over the corner bar and a line of wall sconces. Fresh flowers added an undertone of sweetness to the heady aroma of olive oil, garlic and freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen. Claustrophobia squeezed Catherine. A person could die in here and no one would notice for hours.