by Liz Wolfe
“Have you ever seen him?”
“I don’t think so.” Something about the man’s eyes bothered me, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. I rubbed at a spot on the photo and Scott leaned over to look. A waiter placed a glass of Merlot and a bottle of beer on the table. Scott nodded at him.
“I don’t think that comes off,” he said.
“Oh, sorry. I thought it was something on the photo.” I peered closer and saw that it was a mole on the man’s cheek. “So, who is this? And why did you ask me if I’d seen him?”
“No, I asked if you’ve ever seen him.”
“A test of my long-term memory?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him.” I peered at the photo again to make sure. “I don’t like his eyes, though.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“So, who is he? And why are you showing me his picture?”
Scott put the photo back in the envelope. “His name is John Templeton.”
I gasped and almost choked on my wine. “The stalker? Bobbi Jo’s stalker?”
“It took me a while to dig it up. I was researching all the sus—” Scott cleared his throat. “—everyone involved and I found a restraining order Bobbi Jo had filed against him.”
“That was before I met her, right after she and Edward were married.”
“There was nothing the police could do. He was very careful. We couldn’t trace his phone calls. He never did anything threatening to Bobbi Jo.”
“I thought he was in prison for raping someone in Louisiana.”
“Right. We finally got a lead on him when he sent her some flowers and we were able to get his name. But, before we could locate him, he returned to Louisiana, evidently to visit his mother, now deceased. During that visit, he decided to enjoy the charms of a certain young woman. Against her wishes. Fortunately, they were able to bring the bastard to trial and found him guilty. He got twenty years.”
“So, he’s still in prison.”
“I’m afraid not. Prisons are overcrowded. Hardly anyone serves a full term. If he keeps his nose clean and plays nice with the other boys, he’s out in less than half the time of the sentence.”
“When did he get out?”
“Over a year ago. We’ve lost track of him. He checked in with his parole officer for a while, but then he just disappeared.”
“Have you told Bobbi Jo?
“No. I didn’t want to upset her. There’s no sign that he tried to contact her while he was in prison, or since he got out, so he could be focused on someone else now.”
“Focused on someone else?”
“It happens sometimes. If they’re removed from the person long enough, they often focus on someone else. Someone more obtainable.”
I shuddered. The waiter approached again and I realized I hadn’t looked at the menu. I picked it up, but Scott put his hand over mine.
“Let me order. There’s only one thing worth eating here anyway.”
“Sure.”
“Two Fatz burgers and a side of veggies.” The waiter nodded and left. “In addition to Bobbi Jo’s reports of his harassment, there was one other report. Evidently Templeton threatened Edward Melrose at one point.”
“Bobbi Jo never told me that.”
“I don’t think she knows. The report was made separately. I believe Edward Melrose didn’t want his wife to know about it. Then when Templeton went to prison, the problem was solved.”
“So, you think he might have murdered Edward?”
“It was a shot in the dark. As I said, we don’t know where he is. But if he was stalking her again, it’s possible he’d want to get rid of Edward so he could have her for himself.”
“That’s sick.”
“Very. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her. If he was around, I was thinking you might have seen him.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For asking me instead of talking to Bobbi Jo.”
“No reason to upset her if it was a false lead, which it appears to be.” He grinned as the food was set before us. “Besides, it was a great excuse to see you.”
I hoped my blush didn’t show.
“This is the best burger in Portland.” Scott shook the ketchup bottle, squirted some on his burger, and passed it to me. I did the same and noticed that the veggies he’d ordered were battered and fried. Mushrooms, zucchini, and onions. Well, you only live once. Besides I’d had a salad for lunch.
The burger was delicious. The veggies were heaven. Between bites I asked Scott about the investigation. He didn’t tell me much, and by the end of dinner I realized that he actually hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know or could easily surmise.
“You haven’t told me anything about the investigation that I didn’t already know.”
“You caught that, did you?” He grinned and his eyes sparkled.
“You said we’d have dinner and you’d fill me in.”
“I lied.”
“Oh.”
Scott paid the bill and we walked back to his truck. “You want to get an after dinner drink?”
“I can’t. I have a new job and it starts early tomorrow morning.”
“In that case, I’ll take you home.”
He drove me straight home and against my insistence that I could get to my apartment on my own, walked me all the way to my door.
“I’d ask you in for coffee, but I really need to be up early.” It was already past ten and I had to be up at five thirty. I had my back against the door to the loft, my hand on the doorknob, but I was reluctant to end the evening, in spite of my need for sleep.
“No problem. I have an early day, too. But thanks for having dinner with me.”
He leaned in and suddenly I realized that he was going to kiss me. I also realized that I had absolutely no desire to stop him. His lips grazed mine and without warning, my lips parted and his tongue was in my mouth. How the hell had that happened? But then, I was a little too distracted to think about it. His hand caressed my shoulder and trailed down across my breast to rest at my waist. One of my hands had found its way to his neck and the other one clutched his sweater, holding him close. Damn, he was a good kisser.
“I guess I should be going.” Scott pressed a chaste kiss to my lips that made me want to devour him. I forced my fingers to release his sweater.
“I’ll call you if there’s any sign of John Templeton,” I whispered. He kissed me again and I almost melted.
“Call me anyway.”
“Are those muscles in your arms?” Bobbi Jo asked. She settled into the chair next to mine at the table and carefully placed her fruit juice on a coaster.
“Benjamin Steinhart is trying to work me to death,” I said, taking the tall glass of iced tea she handed me. “The muscles are from hauling props and dealing with those huge rolls of seamless paper.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because I love it. I’ve learned so much from him. Just in three days.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my digital camera. “That reminds me. I want to take some pictures so I can play with the new software he gave me.”
“I was kind of surprised that you invited Max today.” Bobbi Jo looked over to the pool where Max and Sheridan were splashing each other.
“Why?” I adjusted the lens and snapped a few shots.
“I thought you really liked Scott.”
“I do. But I like Max, too.” I put the camera down and sipped my tea. “I don’t know that I can handle having a relationship with more than one man, though.”
“Is that where you’re headed with Scott? And by relationship do you mean having sex with him?” Bobbi Jo leaned her elbows on the table. “I have to live vicariously now that I’m pregnant.”
“He’s a really good kisser. Kind of makes me want to know more.” I waggled my eyebrows at her and she laughed.
“I’ll want details.”
“So, what’s Sean doing here?” I glanced at the g
rill where Sean was turning chicken and slathering on barbeque sauce.
“I just thought he’d like to come over. He’s been real nice about doing stuff for me and I think he’s lonely. I need to fix him up with someone.”
“Couldn’t hurt. Then he wouldn’t be following you around like a puppy dog.”
“Skye, shush. He’ll hear you. He’s just lonely. I’ll find someone for him and then he’ll forget all about me.”
“Where’s Brian? Oh, damn. I totally forgot to ask Scott about him leaving.”
“No problem. Brian finally called him and Scott said it was okay as long as he can get in touch with him.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m relieved that he’s leaving tomorrow. He’s still griping about having his inheritance in a trust fund. Still threatening to contest the will. I finally told him he’s lucky that Edward left him anything at all.”
I focused my camera and snapped a couple of shots of Max and Sheridan, who were playing something that looked like pool Frisbee. “Scott still considers him a suspect because of that argument he had with Edward and Edward threatening to cut him out of the will.”
“With the way he’s been acting lately, I don’t doubt that he might have been mad enough to kill Edward. I just don’t think the little whiner has the balls.”
“I can understand that. Besides, what about his brake line being cut? That just doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I have no idea,” Bobbi Jo said. “I don’t think he even knows anyone in Portland. Maybe someone followed him from New York to kill him.”
“Bobbi Jo, that’s a terrible thought. Besides, the car he’s driving belongs to you. Did you ever think that maybe someone intended for you to have that accident?”
“I haven’t driven that car in over two years. Edward and I just kept it in the carport next to the guesthouse in case someone wanted to use it while they were visiting.”
Lily appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of potato salad. She gave Sean a sharp glance as she passed him on the way to the table.
“There’s just something not right about him,” she said quietly.
“That’s mean, Lily. There’s nothing wrong with Sean. He’s just a little timid,” Bobbi Jo said.
“Timid?” Lily shook her head. “Don’t you think it’s a little off that he’s spending so much time with his late boss’s wife?”
“No, I don’t. I think it’s nice. He’s concerned about me. When did that become a crime?”
“Can I help you bring some stuff out?” I asked Lily.
“No, I’ll just get the bread and the fruit salad and we’ll be ready as soon as the meat’s done.”
“It’s ready now,” Sean called from his station at the grill. Bobbi Jo waved Max and Sheridan in from the pool and we all sat down to eat.
“What’s Ben shooting next week?” Max asked as he piled food on his plate.
“We’re doing another catalog shoot on Monday, a magazine ad on Tuesday, prewedding photos on Friday, and a wedding on Saturday.”
Max grinned. “I guess that means a date this weekend is out.”
“Probably so. But it’s your own fault.”
“I never should have suggested the job.” He shook his head and looked morose, then laughed.
“It’s hard work, but I love it. I should have done something like this a long time ago. He’s going to let me shoot some of the wedding. After a few years of doing his grunt work, I might become a full-time photographer for him. His photographers make a lot of money and they get the best jobs in the city.”
“I didn’t know Benjamin Steinhart even did weddings,” Sean said. “He’s the top photographer in the Northwest.”
“He has a ton of awards. Keeps them all stuffed in a closet in his office. But you’re right. He doesn’t do many wedding shoots. They’re paying him a fortune for about three hours of work.” I picked up the digital camera and snapped a few shots of everyone at the table. “This is a good photo op, as we in the business say.”
“Is there any more news on the investigation?” Sean asked Bobbi Jo.
“No. They’re still working on it. I wish it would be over. It feels like something is incomplete until they find the bastard who killed Edward.”
Sean placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. “I’m sure they’ll find the person. Try not to think about it.”
Then why did he bring it up? Sometimes he appeared to have the social skills of someone raised in a closet. Lily frowned and shot me a look, then glanced at Sean’s hand still covering Bobbi Jo’s. Yeah, I didn’t like it, either.
Lily stood up and started gathering plates. “Sean, help me carry these into the kitchen.”
I almost laughed at the look he gave her. I gathered a couple of bowls and took them to the kitchen. Sean dumped the plates he’d carried onto the counter and scurried back to the patio.
“I don’t like him a bit,” Lily said as she rinsed plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “He’s probably thinking he can make Bobbi Jo fall in love with him, then he’ll have all that money.”
“I don’t like him, either, but Bobbi Jo thinks he’s lonely. She wants to find someone to fix him up with.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to work.”
We finished loading the dishes and went back to the patio. “Sheridan, I need to get home soon.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m not through swimming. Besides, this is probably my last chance to work on my tan.”
“I’ll take you home, Skye,” Max offered.
Bobbi Jo grinned at me and winked. “Thanks for coming over.” She gave me a hug and whispered, “Remember, details.” Then she hugged Max. I hoped she wasn’t whispering the same thing to him.
We made love when we got back to my loft and it was good. But I kept thinking about Scott. Which made me feel guilty.
“I’ve got to go,” Max said a couple of hours later. “I have plans tonight.”
Plans. I assumed that meant a date. Of course, I could be wrong, but the fact that I’d thought it bothered me. The fact that I’d been thinking about Scott bothered me, too.
I sucked at multidating.
Monday and Tuesday were twelve-hour workdays spent running and jumping through Steinhart’s hoops. Flaming hoops. I changed film, set up shots, helped the stylists, swept the floor, and changed the seamless paper so many times, my shoulders ached. All to the accompaniment of his bellowing.
I had Wednesday and Thursday off to recover, and Scott made it even better by asking me to a movie Thursday night.
“I thought you’d like this one,” Scott said as we took our seats and arranged the soft drinks and popcorn bucket.
“Because it’s a chick flick?” I pulled my cell phone out and turned the ringer off, setting it to vibrate, then dropped it in my pocket.
“The politically correct term is ‘female-oriented comedy film.’“
“I stand corrected. You’re right. I really like the actors in this one.” I handed the popcorn over to him. “So, what would you have chosen for yourself?”
“Oh, definitely the Bruce Willis film. And not just because it has more depth. It also has an important social message.”
“And what would that be?” I was trying to keep a straight face but failing.
“If you kill somebody, Bruce will hunt you down and kill you back.”
The movie started and we stopped talking. We finished the popcorn halfway through the movie, and Scott set it aside and took my hand in his. It felt ridiculously good. Occasionally during the movie, he’d lean over and whisper something in my ear. That made me shiver, but in a good way. We stayed through the credits to let the crowd disperse, then walked out to Scott’s truck.
“It’s nine and I haven’t eaten yet. You want to come back to my place and I’ll make us an omelet?”
“That sounds great.” I hadn’t really meant to say that. I’d meant to say that I needed to get up early. Which would have been a lie. I didn�
��t have to be at the studio until ten tomorrow. But I suspected that having an omelet might lead to having something else. Like sex. Not that I wasn’t interested. I was. But I’d just been in bed with Max a few days earlier. I really did suck at this.
Scott lived in a small apartment in downtown Portland. I perched on a stool at the counter while he broke eggs into a bowl.
“How long have you been separated?”
“Just a few months. Seems like longer, though. The divorce will be final in another month.”
“How long were you married?” He cut bacon into small pieces and tossed them in a frying pan, then started slicing mushrooms.
“Twenty-two years.”
“That’s a long time. What happened?”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”
“No, I was teasing. I don’t mind. Actually I walked in on him and his lover.”
“Ouch. That must have hurt.” Scott shook his head. “He’s probably really sorry about that now. Didn’t realize what a prize he had.”
“I’m not sure he feels that way.”
“I’d bet he is. You’re beautiful, smart, fun to be with.”
“Thanks for the compliment. But his lover was a man.”
“Whoa! And you had no idea?” Scott turned to me, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Not really. I guess he’d been hiding it for years. Trying to convince himself that he was heterosexual.”
Scott removed the bacon and mushrooms, whipped the eggs to a froth, then poured them into the pan. I was enjoying watching him. And I liked the idea that he was cooking for me.
“I can see why you were stunned.”
“I got over it pretty easily. I guess because I could see the pain he’s been going through. It might have been different if I’d walked in on him with another woman.”
Scott divided the omelet, dished it onto two plates, and set one in front of me. The toast popped up and he plucked it from the toaster, juggling it from hand to hand.
“Hot,” he said.
“You could use a pair of tongs, or an oven mitt.”