by Laina Turner
Sophie started laughing. “I’m just kidding. If only you could see the look on your faces. Those dresses are ugly. Here’s the real dress.” And with that she slid her finger on the screen to a different page, and what we saw there was a million times better. It was dark chocolate in color, but it was a strapless number cut in a simple A-line. Classic and elegant.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s much better.”
“Our colors are ivory and chocolate. Perfect for a fall wedding, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely gorgeous for a fall wedding. What would be even more gorgeous is if we had more than three weeks to plan it out,” Berklie said.
“I don’t see the crush nowadays. Being pregnant and unmarried isn’t that big of a deal. And it’s not like you’re fifteen or something.”
“I know. It’s not totally about that, though I admit I’m a little old fashioned in that way. But it’s more vanity. I don’t want to be a fat, pregnant bride, and neither of us wants to wait until the baby is born. So we decided to have it soon would be the best course of action.”
“Makes sense. So stop complaining, Berklie. We need to get to planning,” I said.
Chapter 16
I was on my way to Drake’s bar where Berklie, Sophie, Macie, and I were meeting Rachel. We decided adding someone else to this crazy mix couldn’t hurt. Really, how much worse could things get? Plus, she was a lawyer, so maybe she would be an asset to helping us figure this out, or at least keep us out of legal trouble. Something I seemed to have a hard time at lately, and something I wouldn’t have ever believed, had you told me my life would take these turns a few years ago. I couldn’t decide if I wanted Shree to be working or not. Although I assumed she would be, like she was most nights. I still found it odd that she had seemed more annoyed at Harvey’s soon-to-be-ex-wife than upset at the fact he was dead. Though people dealt with death in different ways, so maybe this was just her way.
I pulled in to see everyone but Rachel already waiting in the parking lot. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind and stood us up. She had convinced us, especially me, she was on our side and seemed very genuine. Maybe she was just running late. I got out of my car and started to walk over to where the others were standing, when I saw Rachel’s vehicle pull into the parking lot. A wave of relief rushed over me. We all just stood there for a few, while Rachel got out of her car and walked over to us.
“Sorry I’m late. I got turned around. Hope you didn’t think I changed my mind on you.” She smiled. Knowing that was exactly what we were thinking.
“Of course not,” Berklie said. “Let’s go in and get a drink and get this thing started.”
We all walked into the bar and grabbed a table toward the back where it was a little bit away from the normal traffic of older men who typically sat up at the bar. It was a little less noisy and more private. As expected, Shree was here, waiting on customers. She saw me walk in and nodded in a way that was neither friendly nor unfriendly, probably an important skill in her line of work. Shree motioned to us she would be over in a minute, so instead of going up to get drinks for everyone, I just followed them to the table and sat down.
“So, how do we get this plan in motion?” Berklie said the minute everyone was seated. She was never one to beat around the bush.
I gently chided Berklie. “First, we need to introduce Macie and Rachel.” Normally she wasn’t one to forget manners. Just showed how distracted she was about this Stephen thing.
I turned to Rachel. “Rachel this is our friend, Macie. Macie meet Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you, Rachel,” Macie said.
“Likewise,” Rachel said and then continued on. “Like I said the other day, we need to draw Stephen out so I can talk to him in front of you all, so he knows I am on your side, but on his, too.”
“But then we will turn him over to the police, right?” I asked, still a tiny bit fearful she would want to save Stephen, knowing he was certain to face jail time if caught.
Rachel sighed. “Yes. As much as I hate to see him locked up, he‘s broken the law, and he is very clear on how I feel about that. Maybe getting caught this time will teach him that the life he’s living isn’t any life to live. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
“So how do you want to get him to come to us? Why can’t you just call him yourself?” I asked, wanting to keep as much distance between us and Stephen as possible. Even with Rachel as a buffer, he made me nervous.
“I did tell him last time we spoke to never call me again, that I wanted nothing to do with him. If I called him now, and he knew I was here, he would definitely know something was up. He might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid. Though once he finds out I was instrumental in his capture, he will probably hate me.”
I nodded. It made sense to me. She was right. He probably would be angry, but she was doing the right thing.
“So we just wait until he contacts Trixie again?” Berklie asked.
“I’m sure it won’t take long. He really needs that money,” said Rachel. “Without it he can’t get away, and that’s what he wants. It’s his only option to stay alive, in his thought process.”
“I hate having to wait,” Berklie said. “This could go on forever.”
“He calls almost every day, Berklie. I’m sure we won’t have to wait long. Plus, what choice do we have?” I said.
“I know,” Berklie said. Just then Shree came over to take our drink order.
“Sorry about the wait, ladies. It’s busy in here tonight, and one of the waitresses called in. You can’t find good help anymore. These young girls don’t think nothing of calling in sick to go to a party. Like I don’t know they ain’t sick. Anyways, what can I get ya?”
“Do you still make that yummy red sangria?” Sophie asked. Both Berklie and I looked at her. We had no idea this place had sangria, and I knew Berklie wanted to know as much as I did how she knew.
“Sure do. It’s still my secret specialty. That what all ya want? ” Shree winked at Sophie, which surprised me more than finding out this place had sangria. “Pitcher of sangria and five glasses?” Shree said, hands in her back pockets swaying on her ridiculously high heels. How she could work in those all day was beyond me. I loved high heels, but always had to change halfway through the day to something only a couple inches high, rather than four, and here she was day after day running around this bar, the heels not seeming to bother her.
“Better make that two pitchers of sangria,” I said.
“To start,” added Berklie. “But only four glasses. Bring a water for Sophie.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okay, please explain how you knew they had sangria in a place like this,” I asked Sophie once Shree walked away.
“Jonathan told me. His club hangs out here a lot, and one time when I was here with him, he asked Shree to make me some. Apparently, it’s her special recipe, and she rarely gets to make it since this crowd, obviously, isn’t really the sangria type but rather a Bud Light on tap type.”
“Well, I love sangria, so I’m glad you spoke up,” I said. “If we are going to just wait until Stephen contacts me, then what other things do we want to gossip about while we are here? Might as well enjoy a girls’ night out! You will stay and hang out with us, won’t you, Rachel?”
“Of course. I would never turn down sangria.” She smiled just as Shree came back to our table and set down the two pitchers and a glass in front of each of us. The floating fruit in the red wine mixture looked divine.
When Shree left the table once again, Sophie started pouring, and Berklie said, “Sophie, I think we need to discuss your situation.”
“What, the being pregnant out of wedlock?” she joked, “And the fact I can’t enjoy this divine sangria?”
“No, your stalker issue,” said Berklie. “She has an ex-boyfriend who has followed her from the city and has been harassing her,” she said to Macie and Rachel to get them up to speed. “She wants to blow it off
like it’s not a big deal, but we think it is.”
“Yeah, Sophie, tell us, has your friend stalker been bugging you lately,” I asked. Sophie hadn’t mentioned him in the past few days, and I was as curious and concerned as Berklie.
“Berklie, I don’t think we need to bore everyone with that,” Sophie said, and I could tell she was a bit uncomfortable about the subject. I wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“It’s not boring, and your safety could be at stake here, and as you just said, you are knocked up. We can’t have you being harassed. For your safety and the baby’s.”
“I agree with Berklie, Soph. Have you told Jonathan yet?” I asked.
“No, but Clive did call me. He said until he does something overtly threatening, there isn’t much the police can do,” she said ruefully. “That’s why there’s no point in discussing it.”
“Legally, there might not be anything to be done, but we aren’t the law,” Berklie said. “I’m sure we can do something about this.”
“I thought there were stalker laws these days,” I said.
“There are,” said Macie. “But you still have to have proof, and that isn’t always easy to come by. Stalkers are a sneaky bunch. Often they do what they have to, to fly under the radar so they don’t violate the law. How has he harassed you?”
“Well, in the town I moved here from, he was always popping up in places I was that seemingly he would have no business being in, like the nail salon or yoga. He never said anything threatening to my boyfriend or me, so when we finally went to the cops, they said they couldn’t do anything, that we just needed to ignore him. Same with some emails he sent me. It was more just creepy but nothing overtly threatening. I wasn’t, and still am not, scared, it’s just unnerving. He just creeps me out. I want him to just go away, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to do that on his own.”
“There has to be something that can be done,” I said to Macie.
“Well, Clive is right. Legally, the stalking statute says you have to threaten bodily or mental harm. If Sophie is no more than annoyed, that isn’t really mental anguish by her own admission. Stalking is hard to prove without a clear, overt action, or harm, or intent to do harm.”
“So, basically you’re saying that Sophie has to let him get to the point of threats where she feels unsafe before anything can legally be done?” I asked.
“Yep,” Macie said, taking a drink of her sangria.
“Well, that’s just stupid,” I said.
“Then just tell Clive he has threatened you,” said Berklie to Sophie.
“Macie just told us we need proof, Berklie. She can’t just lie about it,” I said. “Besides, Sophie doesn’t want to stoop to his level.”
“Fine. Then what can we do to scare the bejesus out of him so he hightails it back to the rock he crawled out from and leaves Sophie alone? You know, give him a taste of his own medicine,” Berklie said.
“Maybe he will give up of his own accord. The last thing we need is to cause any more trouble. We’ve got enough now as it is,” said Sophie. “Maybe ignoring him will just eventually cause him to lose interest?”
“I don’t think that’s the best thing to do. I mean, how often does a stalker just give up and go away?” Berklie said mainly directed at Macie. “Don’t things usually escalate because the stalker tries harder and harder to get his stalkee’s attention until something bad happens?”
Macie nodded her head. “Berklie’s right, Sophie. Stalkers are stalking for a reason. They don’t normally just change their mind and give up. Stalking requires commitment. When I interned at the public defender’s office in Detroit one summer, we had quite a few of these cases, mostly stemming from domestic issues, and they didn’t end well. The stalkers ended up being prosecuted because the situation escalated into harm, but there weren’t often warning signs before. Again, it’s just hard to prove these types of cases until it’s too late in many instances. A definite flaw in our legal system.”
“Sure seems like the law often errs on the side of the criminal,” Berklie said angrily.
“Have some more sangria and calm down, Berklie,” Sophie said. “I can handle it.”
Berklie had more sangria, not a challenge for her or me for that matter, but she was still grumbling about the unfairness of our judicial system and how crime did pay in many cases, when all of a sudden she paused.
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Speak of the devil, and I mean that literally. Look who just walked in,” Berklie whispered to me pointing to the door. And since my back was facing the door, I turned in my seat to see who she was talking about.
George Parker, esteemed by many, yet allegedly crooked mayor, walked to the bar and sat down on a stool. Shree brought him a beer without even asking what kind, signaling to me he was a regular, which I pointed out to the group.
“Well, he does fit the demographic. Did you notice we are the only females under forty, make that fifty, in here?” Macie said.
“You didn’t notice all the glances in our direction when we walked in?” Rachel said.
“That’s why I thought this would be a good place to meet,” I said. “No one will pay us much attention or want to talk to us. At our normal place in town we would spend all night talking to folks. Either people we knew or guys trying to pick us up for a date.”
“That, and admit it, you wanted to check out Shree again,” Sophie said.
I nodded, “Yeah, I just don’t get her.”
“Pay attention,” Berklie said, motioning for us to be quiet.
“Attention to what?” Sophie whispered.
“To George. What’s he doing here? This is the guy we were telling you about, Rachel. The one we saw with your dad brokering the supposed land deal,” Berklie said. “The guy just can’t be trusted.”
Rachel turned in her seat to get a better look at George and surprise registered on her face. “That’s him? The guy who is your mayor?” She asked seemingly confused.
“Yep. Crooked bastard in the flesh,” Berklie replied.
“And what’s his name again?” Rachel asked.
“George. George Parker,” I said.
“Hmmm…I know that guy,” Rachel said with a confused expression on her face. We all looked at her.
“How could you know our mayor? I thought you’d never been here before?” I asked.
“I haven’t, but I met him in California.”
We all stared at her again. This was not something I anticipated hearing, nor did the others, as determined by the looks on their faces.
“What do you mean you met him in California?” I asked.
“Just that. He’s friends, or at least acquaintances, with my parents. I may not talk to my dad all that much, but I still have a good relationship with my mom, although I don’t agree with her turning a blind eye to my father’s activities. I’ve been at their house and met this guy before. He was visiting my dad.”
“That makes no sense. How could George possibly know your dad, much less fly out to California to meet with him?” Berklie asked. “Do you have any idea why he was at your parents’ house?”
“No. I’ve learned not to ask. The less I know, the better.”
“Do you think your mom might know?” I asked.
“She might. I can call and find out. I’ll be right back. It’s quieter outside,” Rachel said, grabbing her phone out of her purse and stepping away from the table.
“Okay, that brings a whole new level to the weirdness of this situation,” Sophie said, watching Rachel leave.
“It sure does. I think we are going to need more sangria to figure this out,” Berklie said looking at the two almost empty pitchers. “I’ll go ask Shree to bring us more. One or two, ladies?”
“I think you better make it two.” I chuckled. “Though any more to drink, and Sophie will be driving us home.”
Within a few minutes, both Rachel and Berklie, along with two more pitchers of sangria, were back.
“Did
you get ahold of your mom?” I asked, trying not to sound as impatient as I was.
“Yes, and this is really strange.”
“What?” Berklie asked.
“I guess my dad went to college with George. They’re frat buddies. My mom said they’ve been friends for thirty years.”
“You’re right. That is strange. That, in fact, is one of the stranger things that I’ve found out lately,” I said. “Just when I think that’s not possible.”
“Well, I think that just gives us more of a solid indication that George and Lewis are in cahoots about something. Whether it’s some secret land deal and we just don’t know the value of this supposedly worthless property, or George is somehow helping him find Stephen. We need to keep an eye on the both of them,” Berklie said.
“You want us to spy on the mayor?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that going just a little too far?”
“I think as citizens it’s our duty to find out what he’s up to,” Berklie replied. “And I mean starting right now. He’s paying his tab, so he must be getting ready to leave. Trixie, go pay Shree so we can follow him.”
“We haven’t even touched our two new pitchers of sangria,” I said, staring longingly at them. Shree definitely knew how to make sangria.
“We can always come back. Now drink up and let’s go,” Berklie said impatiently.
I went to the bar to pay, and the others hurriedly drank up and headed out the back door, while George headed out the front. I looked over at him, and he was so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice me standing a couple seats down from him, much less seeing the others sneaking out back. After giving a confused Shree my credit card, I was sure she was wondering why we were leaving two untouched pitchers of Sangria on the table. I headed toward the back door, noticing as I walked out the back that he had just come out the front. Everyone was waiting in Berklie’s vehicle—thank goodness for large gas guzzling SUV’s that would fit fifteen people.
I jumped in the passenger side, which they had thoughtfully left open for me. I shut the door, and Macie, Sophie, and Rachel, who were in the back seat, leaned forward so they could more easily talk to me and Berklie.