Honeymoon h-1

by James Patterson

  Chapter 72

  I STEPPED OUT of the shower and wiped the back of my hand on the fogged-up mirror until I could see myself staring back. I shook my head. Shook it a second time.

  Well, you’ve really done it now, O’Hara.

  Undercover work requires a certain amount of room to maneuver—but this was stretching the limits. I’d gone way beyond the call of duty, only not in the way where they give you a medal at the Hoover Building in Washington.

  From here on out, it was going to be very, very tricky.

  “Craig, are you okay?”

  Nora was calling me from the bottom of the stairs. I opened the door to the bathroom. “The shower was great. I’m coming.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because your omelet’s going to be ready in a flash.”

  I combed my hair straight back, put my clothes back on, and loped downstairs to join Nora in the kitchen. Oh man, she was quite the sight, decked out in only her bra, panties, and a spatula. What a spectacular-looking body, and with a great smile.

  I noticed there was only one place setting on the table. “You’re not having anything?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve been nibbling a little bit on the ham.” She raised a bottle of water. “And I’ve got my usual. Watching the waistline.”

  “I was watching it for you. You don’t have any reason to worry.”

  I sat down and watched as she tended to the skillet on the stove. Staring was more like it. She was as stunning from the back as from the front. And as for that waistline—“What waistline?”

  Cool it, O’Hara.

  But honestly, I couldn’t. It was a weird feeling, and it immediately had me thinking about someone I used to know. A narcotics officer, a friend. He was a really good guy, a good cop. At least, he was until he made a fatal mistake. He foolishly sampled the goods and got addicted.

  The lesson was hard to miss. Even after my shower I thought I could still smell Nora on my skin. I could still taste her. And all I could think about was how I wanted more of her. I didn’t know how I could stop myself.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  I gazed down at the big, fluffy western omelet she’d put in front of me. “Looks delicious.” And I was hungry, maybe because I’d burned off lunch back in the foyer.

  I picked up my fork and took a bite. “Spectacular.”

  She cocked her head. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yes, you, Craig Reynolds.” Nora leaned over and ran a hand through my hair. “You want a beer, or something?”

  “How about some water.” The last thing I needed was more alcohol.

  She went to the cabinet for a glass while I continued on her omelet. Truth be told, it really was delicious.

  “Can you stay the night?” she asked, returning with my water. “Please stay.”

  The question surprised me, though it probably shouldn’t have. I started to look around the kitchen, all the more aware of whose house I was in. The place was professional-grade everything—beautiful, actually—top-drawer in every nook and cranny. Viking, Traulsen, Miele, Gaggia—the best brands in the world.

  Nora glanced in the direction of the foyer. Her sundress was still lying on the marble floor.

  “I think it’s a little late to be weirded out,” she said.

  She was right, and I was about to admit as much—when my stomach suddenly felt very strange.

  Chapter 73

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” NORA ASKED.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Out of nowhere I’m starting to feel…”

  Like I’m going to vomit all over the kitchen.

  I sprung out of my chair and raced for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. I dropped to my knees and heaved violently. Up came the omelet. Most of lunch as well.

  “Craig, are you all right?” she asked from behind the bathroom door.

  No, I wasn’t. I’d been hit by a tidal wave of nausea and I was reeling. My vision was blurred. All I could do was hold on tight and hope for it to pass.

  If that cop from the cemetery could see me now.

  “Craig? You’re scaring me.”

  I was too busy retching to respond to anything she was saying. I was too dizzy and weak.

  “Can I get you something?” she asked.

  With my arms wrapped around the porcelain, I was faced with a horrible fear: what if this never passes? That’s how bad I felt, how awful and terrified.

  “Craig, please say something.”

  The next moment, however, it did pass. Oddly. Luckily. As fast as it came, it seemed to disappear. Just like that.

  “I’m okay,” I said, as much surprised as relieved. “I’m okay now. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I lumbered over to the sink, rinsed my mouth, and splashed some cold water on my face. Again I was staring at myself in the mirror. It had to be food poisoning, right?

  But there was no escaping another possibility—I was suffering from pure, unadulterated anxiety on the heels of having fucked up very badly. Simply put, the omelet didn’t mix very well with the huge and unforgiving pit in my stomach.

  Jesus, O’Hara. Get a grip!

  I returned to the kitchen and a very confused Nora. “You scared the hell out of me,” she said.

  “Sorry. That was bizarre.” I struggled to offer up a believable explanation. “Maybe it was a bad egg.”

  “Could be. Oh, I feel just terrible. Oh, Craig. You’re feeling better now, though?”

  I nodded.

  “You sure? Don’t try to be a hero.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I’m the one really feeling awful,” she said. “You’ll never eat anything I cook for you again.”

  “Don’t be silly, it wasn’t your fault.”

  Her lower lip curled down. She seemed hurt and frightened. I went over and put my arms around her. “I’d kiss you but—”

  She broke into a smile. “I think I can dig you up a toothbrush,” she said. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You agree to spend the night here. Once again—with feeling—pretty please?”

  Maybe if she hadn’t been wearing only her bra and panties. Maybe if I hadn’t been holding her at that moment. Maybe then I could’ve said no. Maybe, but I doubt it.

  “On one condition of my own,” I said.

  “I know what you’re going to say and I wouldn’t think of it.”

  Which meant we slept far away from the master bedroom that evening. Not that we actually did much sleeping. I promised myself it would be only this one night. The next day I’d put an end to it. I’d figure out some other way to be close to her without being intimate.

  Yet deep down I sensed what was happening. I could feel it everywhere.

  I was hooked on Nora.

  Chapter 74

  THE SOUND OF the doorbell chiming downstairs made for a rude awakening the next morning.

  Nora sprung right up in bed. “Who could that be this early?”

  I looked at my watch. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not that early. It’s almost nine-thirty.”

  Her reaction was a frisky grin that somehow managed to be wholesome and sexy at the same time. “I guess we really tired each other out.”

  “Go ahead and laugh, I was supposed to be at my office an hour ago.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll write you a note.”

  The doorbell rang again. This time, repeatedly. It sounded like wind chimes during a hurricane.

  “Whoever it is, I’ll get rid of them,” Nora said. Beautifully naked, she climbed out of bed and went to the window. She peeked through the curtain. “Damn, I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?”

  “It’s Harriet.”

  I didn’t know who Harriet was, but it didn’t matter. All I knew was that I didn’t want her or anybody else at the door—not with me on the other side of it. “You can get rid of her, right?”

&n
bsp; “Actually, I can’t. She’s doing me a big favor.”

  “What if she sees me here with you?”

  “That won’t happen. I asked her to look at the furniture for her consignment store. Just hang out; I’ll make sure we stay clear of this room. It won’t take long.”

  John O’Hara didn’t really have a problem with that; Craig Reynolds, on the other hand, had a job to get to. “Nora, I’m already late for work as it is,” I said. “There’s got to be a way I can slip out a back door, or something.”

  “She’s already seen your car. If it’s gone when she’s leaving, she’ll ask me about it. Neither of us wants that.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “How long is this going to take?”

  “I told you, it won’t take long.” She unlocked the window and opened it. “Sorry, Harriet, I’ll be right there,” she called down. “Great hat, sweetie.”

  Nora spun and, with a running start, jumped back into bed with me. “Now about your going to work today, you,” she said, her hand reaching beneath the sheet. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, you don’t, do you?”

  “Absolutely not. I think you should play hooky so we can have some fun. What do you think?”

  It didn’t matter what I said. Nora’s hand under the sheet could already tell what I thought.

  “I suppose I could take a day off.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “What should we do?”

  Nora glanced down at the sheet covering me. “Well, I’ll tell you. It looks like someone wants to go camping.”

  She hopped back out of the bed. Very limber. Must work out a lot.

  “Wait, you can’t leave me now,” I said.

  “I have to. Harriet’s waiting and I’ve got to go put some clothes on.” She glanced down at the sheet again, the same frisky grin on her face. “Hold that thought,” she said.

  Chapter 75

  I LAY IN BED, staring up at the ceiling, holding the thought, as it were. This was probably a maid’s or nanny’s bedroom, and it was still a lot nicer than mine. I finally began plotting out the rest of the day, like where Nora and I might go. More important, how I’d navigate our budding relationship, or whatever was going on between us.

  She certainly knew how to get what she wanted. The question remained: Was it me she wanted? And what did I want out of this? To prove Nora innocent?

  I told myself to snap the hell out of it. The only question that really mattered was whether she had anything to do with the death of Connor Brown—and the disappearance of his money. That was my job, getting the answer.

  I closed my eyes. Seconds later they popped open.

  I jumped out of bed and ran to my suit hanging over a chair. I grabbed the ringing phone out of my pants pocket and checked the number to see what I already knew. It was Susan!

  I couldn’t blow her off twice, could I? She knew that I always kept the phone with me and that I would never be out of range.

  Be yourself, O’Hara.

  “Hello?”

  “Why are you whispering?” she asked.

  “I’m at a golf tournament.”

  “Ha-ha. Where are you really?”

  “The Briarcliff Manor library.”

  “I believe that even less.”

  “Except it happens to be true,” I said. “I’m brushing up on my life insurance jargon.”

  “Why?”

  “Nora’s been asking a lot of questions. She’s very sharp. I don’t know if she’s testing me or just curious. Either way, I need to know what I’m talking about.”

  “When’s the last time you had contact with her?”

  Something told me “all night long” wasn’t the best answer to that question.

  “Yesterday,” I said. “Craig Reynolds took her to lunch to apologize for all the hassles John O’Hara put her through.”

  “Good move, slick. You obviously told her about the payout coming, right?”

  “Yes, and she seemed relieved. That’s when she started to ask some of the questions, though.”

  “You think she suspects you?”

  “It’s hard to tell with her.”

  “You’ve got to get her to open up to you.”

  I swallowed hard on that one. “Here’s a thought: what if Craig Reynolds follows up on the lunch by asking her out to dinner?”

  “You mean, like a date?”

  “I wouldn’t pose it quite that way. Her fiancé just died. But, yes, like a date. You said you wanted her to open up more.”

  “I don’t know,” said Susan.

  “Right, neither do I. I’m running out of options, though, not to mention time.”

  “What if she says no?”

  I laughed. “You underestimate the O’Hara charm.”

  “Hardly. It’s why you’re working this case, pal. But as you said yourself, Nora doesn’t seem like the type to fall for an insurance man.”

  I bit my tongue. “Personally, I’d thought you’d be more concerned about Nora saying yes.”

  “Trust me, I am,” she said. “But I think you have a point. It’s probably our best shot.”

  I was about to agree when outside the bedroom I could hear voices. Nora and Harriet coming up the stairs, talking.

  “Damn.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve got to hang up,” I said. “I’m getting the evil eye from a librarian.”

  “All right, get going. But listen—be careful, O’Hara.”

  “You’re right. This looks like a really bad-ass librarian.”

  “Very funny.”

  I hung up, got back into bed, and resumed staring at the ceiling. I hated having to lie to Susan, but I hardly had a choice. She wanted to know if I thought Nora suspected something. Now I was wondering the same thing about her. Could she tell I was lying?

  Susan was one of the least gullible people I’d ever known. That’s why she was the boss.

  Chapter 76

  NORA RETURNED, all bright smiles and full of pep. Hard to resist. She jumped up on the bed and kissed my chest, my cheek, my lips. She rolled her eyes and made a funny face that could have won my heart under normal circumstances, which these certainly weren’t.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Terribly,” I said. “How’d things go with Harriet?”

  “Wonderfully. I told you it wouldn’t take long. I’m good. You wouldn’t believe how good I am.”

  “Yes, only you weren’t the one stuck in this room.”

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she said, teasing me. “You need some fresh air. All the more reason why you can’t go to work today.”

  “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “As a matter of fact… no.”

  I nodded at my coat and trousers draped on the chair. “Okay, but are you sure you want to spend two days in a row with me in those clothes?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve taken them off you once. I won’t mind doing it again.”

  We showered, dressed, and took her car out for a spin. The Benz.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked.

  Nora slid on her sunglasses. “I’ve got it under control.”

  She drove first to a gourmet market in town called Villarina’s. I, naturally, acted as if I’d been there before. As we walked in she asked me whether there was anything I didn’t eat. “Besides my omelets.”

  “I’m not a big fan of sardines,” I said. “Other than that, go for it.”

  She ordered a small feast. Various cheeses, roasted peppers, a pasta salad, olives, dried meats, some French bread. I offered to pay. Reaching for her purse, she said she’d hear nothing of it.

  Next stop was a liquor store.

  “How about we go with white today? I prefer pinot grigio, myself,” she said.

  She checked to see what was already chilled and pulled out a bottle of Tieffenbrunner. We were all set for our picnic.

  More so when Nora showed me the blanket in the tr
unk. Cashmere, with a Polo logo. She’d packed it while I was in the shower.

  We drove to nearby Pocantico Lake and found a patch of grass that offered some privacy, not to mention gorgeous views of the Rockefeller estate with all its expensive hills and dales and whatnot.

  “See, doesn’t this beat going to work?” she said after we plopped down on the blanket.

  But I was at work. As we talked over the food and wine, I was doing my subtle best to get something from Nora that would point to her involvement in Connor Brown’s death—and the transfer of his money that had started this whole investigation.

  Trying to gauge her computer literacy, I casually referred to the firewalls built into a new web program I was using at the office. When she nodded I tacked on, “To think, only a year ago I thought a firewall had to do with asbestos.”

  “You and me both. I only know what it is from one of my former clients. He was some big Internet guy.”

  “One of those dot-com millionaires, huh? Jesus, what do they do with that kind of money?”

  Nora made another funny face.

  “Lucky for me, a lot of redecorating. You can’t imagine.”

  “Very true. Though I can imagine the taxes these guys must pay.”

  “I know. Of course, I guess they have their ways of minimizing them,” she said.

  “You mean like loopholes? What?”

  She looked at me for a moment. “Yeah, like loopholes.” There was a slight squint in her eyes. Hesitation bordering on suspicion. Enough to make me back off.

  So for the rest of the afternoon, I played it cool… like a guy enjoying an unexpected day off from work, with a beautiful woman he couldn’t get enough of.

  Chapter 77

  GO HOME, O’HARA. Run away, you idiot.

  But I didn’t run.

  After the picnic, we caught a movie at the art-house cinema in Pleasantville. That was Nora’s idea as well. Rear Window was playing at the Jacob Burns, and she told me it was one of her all-time favorites. “I love Hitchcock. Do you know why, Craig? He’s funny, and he also gets the dark side of life. It’s like two great flicks for the price of one.”

  By the time the movie was over, we’d filled up so much on popcorn that we decided to pass on the dinner Nora had planned at the nearby Iron Horse Grill. I stood in the town parking lot with her as if the two of us were in high school again, unsure of how our date should end.