Poof!

by M. Lee Prescott

  I looked away, blushing. “So, what’re we having? Can I help?”

  “Pasta and a salad. Sorry, pretty simple. I stopped on Federal Hill on my way through Providence and picked up everything. Otherwise, we’d be eating Fruit Loops or whatever Josh left.”

  “Pasta’s good, although I’ve been known to eat Fruit Loops from time to time.”

  “Everything’s set. I can throw the pasta in anytime so let’s head out to the back and enjoy our drinks for a bit, okay?” He grabbed a wooden serving dish with two sections, one mixed nuts, the other Kalamata olives.

  “Sounds good.” I followed him through the French doors, still covered with cardboard and was amazed to find a beautiful terrace, furnished with new chairs, tables and a porch glider. “Wow! I had no idea this was here.” Two sides of the wide terrace were five-foot-high walls made out of fieldstone, but in front of us, the river. The yard was fenced, a beautiful, artistic looking split rail fence covered with almost invisible chicken wire. It enhanced rather than obstructed the gorgeous view.

  “I built this even before we started the house. Even if everything looks like hell inside, I know I can come out here. It is summer, right? I’ve even slept out here a few nights.”

  “I’ll bet Carter loves it. Where is he, by the way?”

  “Still at Mike’s. I’ll collect him in the morning.”

  “Boy, this makes my view look pretty insignificant.”

  “Does not.”

  “Well, this is spectacular.”

  “So are you,” he said quietly. “Come, sit, relax.” I took a seat and he sat opposite me with a small table in between.

  “Charlie, I think we should talk about this, before the wine goes to my very tired, sex-starved head.”

  He smiled. “You don’t look tired, and I like the sex-starved part.”

  “This isn’t funny. I really don’t think a relationship is a good idea for me, for us right now for so many reasons.”

  “I think we’ve covered that already.”

  I set down my wine and waved my arms like a crazy person. “Yes, but when you say things like you just said, it puts pressure on me, you know? And, I can’t... I don’t.”

  “Hey,” he said, reaching over to take one of my flailing hands. “There’s no pressure here, Ricky. Promise. I’m sorry I said anything. Friends is fine with me. Okay?”

  I smiled. “Okay,” then turned to gaze at the boats coming, in for the night after Thursday night sail.

  We decided to eat on the terrace. I adore linguini with pink sauce and Charlie served it with crusty bread and a light arugula and fennel salad. “This dressing is terrific.”

  He smiled. “One of my specialties.”

  “Oh, my goodness, I’m feeling more pathetic by the minute. You’ve been all around the world doctoring and saving people and you can cook.”

  “In a lot of the places I’ve lived, you learn to cook or starve.”

  “No MacDonald’s?”

  “That stuff’ll kill you, you know.”

  “Maybe, but what a way to die.”

  He grabbed the wine bottle. “More?”

  “Please. Thank you for this.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “You’ve created a wonderful spot here. So, relaxing and beautiful.”

  “Come back in six months or a year. I’ve got all kinds of plans for a flowers, herbs, maybe a few vegetables. I’d also like to build a pergola.”

  “I’ve always wanted a pergola!”

  “I was thinking over there,” he said, pointing to the right stonewall. “Cover it with grape vines and I’ll have grapes and privacy. It’d be a great sleeping spot.”

  “You’ve probably slept outside a lot over the years.”

  He nodded. “I prefer it, actually.”

  “What about bugs?”

  “I’ve got a mosquito magnet. Haven’t set it up yet, but soon. There’s also netting. That’s pretty cool and private, too.”

  All this talk of privacy pointed toward a direction I did not want to go. “You must be tired.”

  “Not especially, but if you are we can call it a night. I picked up a small fruit tart at Pastiche. It’ll save if you’d rather not.”

  “I’d love a small slice.”

  “Coffee?”

  “No thanks. I’m a tea drinker.”

  “I have some great herbal teas.”

  “Anything’s fine. Surprise me. Can I help?”

  “No, stay here. I’ll bring everything,” he said, clearing the plates.

  Ordinarily I’d have protested and hopped up to help, but I was relaxed from the wine and enjoying my twilight view of the river. “If you’re sure?”

  He returned carrying a tray with two slices of berry tart, each with a small dollop of vanilla ice cream on the side. He set them down along with steaming mugs of what smelled like a mint tea. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, I’m very jealous of your view.”

  “Well it’s available any time you want to stroll over.”

  “Wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you entertain lots of people here.” Women, lots of women.

  “You’re the first, except for a few beers with Vinnie and the crew. Mike comes by, of course, but she doesn’t count.”

  “She’s lovely, Charlie.”

  “She’s a keeper.”

  “Why isn’t she doctoring? Did something happen to her?”

  “Mike is a hot head, like her dad. One of the reasons she couldn’t hack the field. Can be impatient and she exploded at too many people when diplomacy was key. She’s mellowing slowly, but she needed a break. Mike wants to save the world and no one goes fast enough for her.”

  “What about you? You don’t seem the hot head type?”

  He leaned back, smiling. “I’ve mellowed. My temper used to be ferocious. Almost gave me a heart attack several times. Years of therapy have helped. Starting my day with mindfulness and yoga have calmed me down, too. I teach both once and a while. They’ve made a huge difference.”

  “I couldn’t move without my daily yoga.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Where do you teach?”

  “Just the Clinic at the moment, but when the new Grove community center is completed, I volunteered to teach either mindfulness or yoga. We’ll see.”

  “You have gotten around, haven’t you? I’ll be sure to sign up if you do teach here.”

  “Then it’s definite. I will.”

  After dessert, we took our teas to swing on the glider. The night was warm and stars blanketed the sky above. We talked about his house and travels. He asked about some of my previous cases and I gave him a quick rundown. “So, have you been back to your prep school since that first caper?” he asked, taking my empty mug and setting it on the table beside him.

  “No, that week was enough. Lots of painful memories from difficulty time in my life. Whitley School was not a happy place for me except for the friends I made. They’re arriving tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Love to meet them.”

  “You will. We’re going to the Clambake at my dad’s. I understand you are, too.”

  “Guilty as charged. Nice of your dad and his wife to host it.”

  “Hmm.”

  We chatted about this and that, gazing out at the water, its inky surface dancing with light from dwellings along its banks. A crescent moon rose in a clear sky, also reflected off the water. Next thing I remember was the breeze on my face and a strand of hair tickling my cheek. I sat up with a start and realized I’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.

  “I’ve done it again,” I said, rubbing my eyes then smoothing my shirt, gazing over to find that he was rubbing his eyes as well.

  “Some date, huh?” he said, grinning. “And, I can’t even use jet lag as an excuse.”

  “No old age jokes, okay?”

  “I’m older than you.”

  I stood, grabbing our mugs. “Never mind. I’ve got to go.”

  “Hey, don’t worry
about those.”

  He followed me into the kitchen as I set the mugs in the sink. “I should stay and help you clean up.”

  “No way. Will take me five minutes. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I want to.”

  I peeked out one of the side lights at the front door, gazing out at the street. Frank’s truck was there. “Okay, that’d be nice.” I turned back to him. “And, because I do not want to put on a show for Frank, I’ll do this here.”

  “Do what?”

  In answer, I circled my arms round his shoulders. “I lied. I don’t want to be just friends.”

  “Oh?”

  “No.”

  I kissed him, open mouth, lots of tongue, hit one out of the park kind of kiss, which I’m happy to say he returned. His strong arms drew me closer and my knees threatened to buckle under me. Yikes, he was a great kisser!

  I stepped back before I collapsed. “Okay, better go now.”

  “Sure you don’t want to stay over?”

  “Not tonight,” I said, softly as my fingers traced the line of his strong jaw. “Maybe sometime soon though.”

  “Good.”

  “Now let’s go. We don’t want to keep Frank waiting.”

  “I’m sure he’d understand.”

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing my bag and opening the door.

  Chapter 30

  I had not planned on working Friday, but then decided to head to New Bedford after ascertaining that Carolyn Winters was indeed working in the ER at St. Luke’s until eleven. After calling Wilda and Mike, I grabbed a green tea and an egg white and veggie on a flatbread from Dunkin’ Donuts patting myself on the back for my healthy food selection, then hopped on the highway.

  I parked several blocks from the hospital, waved to Frank, then headed toward the Emergency Room entrance. I asked at Reception and they said Carolyn was with a patient, but they would tell her I was here. I took a seat in the waiting room as far from a mother and her son as possible since the boy was hacking like he had whooping cough. The only other person waiting was a twenty-something kid, dressed in workpants, a wife beater tee shirt, and covered with tattoos and piercings. He held up his left hand which was wrapped in a bloody towel.

  Ten minutes later a short, blonde women in green scrubs appeared, gazing around the room. I stood up. “Ms. Winters?”

  Her blue eyes registered puzzlement, her mouth set in a frown. “Who are you?”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk? I promise it will be quick. My name’s Ricky Steele. I’m a private detective.”

  She hesitated, and I was afraid she was going to bolt back behind the double doors. Finally, with shrug, she said, “We can talk outside. It’s my break anyway.”

  The minute we stepped out, she pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit up. “So, what’s this about?”

  “I’m investigating the disappearance of two young girls who apparently attended Meridian’s school. What can you tell me about that?”

  She looked genuinely surprised. “School? My husband runs an import business.”

  “Yes, but apparently Meridian also runs or ran a school on the premises, for young children, helping them to learn English and other basic skills.”

  “First I’ve heard of it.” She took a long drag on her cigarette, half closing her eyes.

  “How much do you know about your husband’s business?”

  “Not much. They import junk, if you ask me. Designer knock-offs and crap.”

  “Have you ever been to Meridian’s offices?”

  “Once or twice, why?”

  “I just wondered if you’d seen children there.”

  “Never. Have you talked to Oscar or Wade?”

  “I can’t seem to locate either of them.”

  “Not surprised. Haven’t seen Oscar in weeks and Wade’s a spook.”

  “You mean you don’t live together?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve been separated for over a year. I’m living with my sister.”

  “No kids?”

  “No, thank God. If you want to know about what goes on at Meridian, ask Nancy or Kim. What about Betty?”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “Would Nancy and Kim know more about the import side of things?”

  “Doubt it. For that, you’d have to ask that bimbo, Fiona.”

  “Fiona?”

  “Fiona Veruga, she does most of the buying and all the marketing for them. If you ask me, she spends most of her time marketing herself.”

  “Does she spend much time at the office, do you know?”

  “Not unless she’s boffing my husband. She’s the reason my husband and I are no longer together.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Oscar and I had drifted apart. Besides, he likes ‘em much younger than me. Look, I’ve gotta get back.”

  “Of course, just one more thing. Do you have any idea where could I find Ms. Veruga?”

  “I’m not sure if she even has an office, but she has a condo somewhere. Dartmouth, I think, or maybe Freetown? Sorry, I gotta go.”

  As Ms. Winters hurried inside, I jotted a few notes, then strolled toward my car wondering how to locate Ms. Veruga, the homewrecker. Back at the office I executed an online search for Fiona Veruga then chatted with Mike and Wilda while I waited for the results. Correction, Mike and I chatted and Wilda occasionally contributed a monosyllable or maybe a subtle gesture. Mike was making real headway with my files and office mess. Absently, I wondered what task I could give her once the Inner Sanctum was ship shape. There was probably a day of organizing in the outer office, but nothing important.

  I watched her moving about, her face serious as she worked. “What’re your plans for the weekend, Mike?”

  “Beach. Josh invited me to come down to his parents’ house. Apparently, they have some amazing beach right in front of them.”

  “You have no idea. So, you guys are seeing a bit of each other?”

  She turned and gave me a look. “Just friends.”

  “Well, Wilda’ll stick with you and I’ll keep Frank. Is there a guy on Josh?” I asked turning to my associate.

  Wilda nodded. “Spike.”

  “Do I know him?”

  “No, but don’t worry. You probably won’t see him.”

  “What about Josh?”

  “Spike drives a dark blue sedan, blends in with the landscape even if he doesn’t.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  Wilda grunted, not doubt having exhausted her conversational quota for the day. My computer pinged and I checked. The report on the Veruga woman had come in. I pulled out one of my burner phones and tried Fiona’s number. A silky voice invited me to leave a message, which I declined to do. I printed the report, scanned its contents, then shoved it into my bag. “Hey, ladies, time for me to hit the road. You both have my numbers so call if anything comes up. My friends arrive this afternoon for the weekend, but I’ll continue to poke around. I seriously need to speak to this Veruga woman.”

  “What are you and your buddies up to?” Mike asked.

  “Catching up, mostly. We’re going to a charity clambake tomorrow. It’s at the Bluffs not far from Josh’s parents’ house. Your dad’s going, apparently.”

  “Yeah, he told me. Wanted me to be his date, but I’m allergic to seafood.”

  “Yuck. All kinds?”

  “Well, I know about shrimp and lobster so I’ve never dared try the others. Clams don’t appeal too much with those squishy bodies.”

  “And chewy necks, yum!”

  “Yuck. Isn’t the bake at your dad’s house?”

  “Yup.”

  “Fancy.”

  “Their lifestyle, not mine. See ya.” I motioned to Wilda who rose and followed me out. At the end of the hall out of earshot, I paused. “Take care of her. Hire another person if you need to, but don’t let her out of your sight. I may have ruffled a few more feathers today.”

  �
�No worries, boss.”

  Chapter 31

  I swung by the market for breakfast supplies. While there I grabbed a spinach pie from the deli and ate it while I shopped. Satisfied that I had enough snacks and breakfast items, I checked out and headed home.

  I pulled into my driveway just in front of Katie. “Hey, girl!” I cried.

  I was so happy to see her I almost burst into tears. Lolly’s car was parked on the street and Frank pulled in right behind it. Katie grabbed me in a bear hug that would have crushed a lesser mortal. Katie gave great hugs.

  “Hey, Steele! What a place. You’re in trouble for not having us here before this. You are literally on the water.” Katie had several homes in various exotic locales most on one body of water or another. All of her houses could fit ten of my little shack inside their vast interiors.

  Katie looked as gorgeous as ever, her hair still coppery blonde, face almost wrinkle free. She was dressed in jeans and a plaid cotton shirt, untucked, a gaunty scarf at her neck. Despite her size, she moved with grace and agility, still the athlete of her youth. Rare was the day that she and her husband Bob didn’t play a round of golf and usually a game of tennis at one of the several country clubs to which they belonged. As we tussled and tugged her bag out of her enormous SUV, a blue Subaru Forester pulled up, horn blasting.

  “Woo hoo, ladies, lookin’ good!” Alice Bannister waved as she pulled in behind Katie, and hopped out.

  It had been years since I’d seen Alice, but she hadn’t changed a bit, except for her salt and pepper hair very like my own. The shortest of the Musketeers, Alice was just over five feet. Dressed in tan chinos, bright coral jersey and navy sneakers, she looked as fresh as a daisy after her long drive. Hugs all round, we then hoisted our bags, only to drop them as Lolly pushed open my screen door, screaming, “Yeah, yeah!”

  Sporting one of her signature “casual pant suits,” this one canary yellow with shorts that stopped just above her knees, Lolly looked slim and glamourous as always, her thick brown hair falling loosely at her shoulders. Even at mid-day, she wore full make-up, mascara and eye liner accentuating her coal black eyes. “I’ve been waiting for hours!” she cried, flinging herself at each of us in turn. “Come in, come in! I’m on my third iced tea and if I don’t switch to something stronger you’ll have to tape my eyes closed tonight after all this caffeine!”