by Liz Bradbury
“And... I’ll give you a massage,” I threw in.
She stopped shaking her head and looked up at me. The half smile was back. So was the voice tone I’d been longing to hear, a hint of a melodic humming growl before each sentence. If there was a Disney cartoon with a female panther, it would be Kathryn Anthony’s voice they’d use.
“A real massage?” she asked softly, dropping her hand from her shoulder and drawing her fingers down slowly to rest at the opening of her shirt collar. She pushed herself up and walked around to the front of her desk. She leaned against it as she waited for my reply.
I nodded. The little voice in my head was singing, “Yeah baby, you found the right bait for this panther.”
She lifted her chin and said with academic precision, “I’m serious, I want specific information, you are offering me: a place to wash my clothes, some dinner, and you will give me a full massage?”
“And we talk about the case over dinner,” I added watching her carefully, hoping she’d give in.
She clearly didn’t care what we talked about, she knew what she wanted, she pressed, “Not just a three minute shoulder rub? The real thing?”
“Yes, the real thing, as long as you want and... I’m good at it,” I said confidently in a lower tone.
“Hmmm, I like a woman who’s sure of her skills.”
“So it’s a deal?”
She crossed her arms and said, “Yes, it’s a deal, but I will be very disappointed if I don’t get a good massage, because I’m already looking forward to it.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” I said casually. “Are you ready to go now?”
She got her jacket and a small leather knapsack from the closet and followed me into the hall, pulling the door shut. It locked with a click. She walked down the echoing hallway ahead of me. One of the many occupational habits of my business is sizing up people. About 5’7", the shoes are adding an inch. Probably 140 lbs, hard to tell with the sweater and jacket. Pretty trim. Wonder if the hair color is natural.
She opened the stairwell door and gracefully gestured me through first. Maybe she wanted a chance to look me over from the back.
“To get to your place...?” She made it a question as we went down the stairs. We both paused at the ground level door.
“It’s just off the Mews. You can follow me, it’s only a few blocks.”
“No, I have to go to my apartment and get my laundry, but it will only take me a little while. I’m just around the corner at the Hampshire.”
“I remember,” I smiled. “My building is near the corner of 12th and Gordon Streets, number 1206. right across the street from Moyer and Jones lumberyard. Do you know where that is?”
“That little Thai restaurant is near there, isn’t it?”
“Right. Thai Kitchen is about five buildings up the block. Mine is a converted factory. There are offices downstairs. I live on the third floor. The building is the tallest in that part of the neighborhood. You can’t miss it.”
“Sounds interesting.” She was considering me intently, with her head tilted just a little to the side. “It’s a loft? The top floor of an old factory building?”
“The two top floors, but I’ve only finished one of them. There are two doors in the front. The one on the left is white. That one goes to the first floor. The one on the right is red. That’s my door. There are two doorbell buttons by the side of the door. The bottom one is for the law firm. Ring the top bell and I’ll buzz you into the lobby. Here’s my card,” I said fishing one out of my pocket and putting it in her hand, “call me if you can’t find it.”
“Red door, top button. I think I can handle it. Is there parking?”
Good question. The whole area of Washington Mews is notorious for lack of parking, especially in the evenings and weekends.
“There are private parking places right in front, nobody will be using them at this hour so you’ll have no problem. My van will be parked there. You can park right next to me.”
“All right then, I’ll see you in about half an hour.” She gave the brass bar on the door a push.
“Wait,” I said calling her back.
She turned with the door slightly open. She’d zipped up her jacket and tossed her red scarf once around her neck. Her eyes flashed with a curious energy.
“You’re hungry,” I went on, “how about something from Thai Kitchen. I could order it? They deliver. It should be there by the time you arrive.” She was nodding her head enthusiastically. I asked, “What would you like?”
“I’m so hungry just talking about food is going to make my stomach hurt. Hmm, pad Thai with shrimp, papaya salad, or if they don’t have that, the regular salad with peanut dressing.” She sighed shaking her head and then laughed, “I’m desperate, I’ll eat anything they have.”
“Fine, I’ll order it and see you soon.” We both went out into the city wind, with our heads down, going separate ways.
I took out my phone and speed dialed Thai Kitchen. I go there so much I have an account and am on a first name basis with the family who owns it.
Kathryn Anthony had taken my breath away, literally. I’m hyperventilating, I thought, I have to control myself or I’ll have to put a paper bag over my head. No, wait I should breathe into a bag. Yeah, that would be safer than trying to drive with my head inside a bag. I was frantic that I may have left my place in a total mess. I racked my brain to remember if I’d left a pile of dishes in the sink.
It was very dark in my small parking lot, with a few slushy snow piles here and there. I let myself in and made sure to turn on the front door light so the parking lot would be illuminated. I ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time. I’m in pretty good shape, but I was gasping when I got to the second floor entrance of Sara and Emma’s offices. Slow down and get a grip, I had to tell myself again, you don’t want to have a breakdown just before she gets here.
Emma Strong, bundled up in coat and hat, was just leaving the office. “Whoa, what’s your hurry,” she asked as I dodged crashing into her. She took a step closer peering into my eyes with the calculation of a hot dog trial lawyer, then straightened up with an in-drawn breath. “Maggie, you have a date! And it’s a hot one... too. Aren’t you cute when you’re excited!”
“Well, I...”
“Don’t bother to deny it, I see that glint in your eye,” she said smiling. “Good for you honey. I have a date too, and I’m late. Oh, the list of people who were at Daria’s apartment came back from the credit checking service. Nothing much, but it would be good if you could look it over.” She stepped back into the office, grabbed the list, and handed it to me. “Will the criminal information be here by Monday?”
“Probably by Sunday, I rushed them. I’ll check over both lists. Daria was a social worker right? These were people she worked with?”
“Mm hmm, from the office, the counseling clinic, and the homeless shelter, but don’t work on this tonight Maggie, concentrate on the task at... hand.” She glanced up the stairs. “Is she coming here? I’m going to want details,” Emma teased as she locked the office door.
“I’ll have the lists for you by Monday and I don’t know if there’ll be any... details.”
“We can always hope!” Emma called after me as I turned and sped up the next flight.
As I reached the third floor landing, I suddenly realized it might have been a tactical error to give Kathryn my card. Now she had my number so she could call to cancel if she really felt too tired. Damn. I’d already begun to imagine the massage. I had to take a very deep breath to compose myself. The disappointment would be crushing if she didn’t appear. On the other hand, she agreed it was a deal. She didn’t seem like the type to bail after making a deal. In fact, if she was, I’d be less interested.
I’d gotten this building as payment from a grateful client. I’d solved the case, but almost lost my life in the process. I’d thought he was kidding about the building, but he really did it. It was scary taking on a big piece of real estate af
ter years of renting an apartment in a high rise, but things seemed to be working out, knock-on-wood.
Before I let myself into the loft, I sent the freight elevator down to the ground floor. Once inside, I ran over to the kitchen area. I took my breakfast dishes out of the sink and put them in the dishwasher. The laundry room is through my bedroom so I straightened out the quilt and fluffed the pillows on my king-sized bed. Thinking again, I decided to change the sheets. Be prepared. That done I scanned the room for other telltale signs of disorganization, then proceeded to the bathroom.
There are two bathrooms in the loft. One next to the guest room that’s rarely used, so I figured it was clean. But the bathroom off my bedroom, the one I use every day, needed a quick once over. Scrub, wipe, flush, arrange, done. In the laundry room next to the bathroom I checked for giant lint bunnies in the machines. Everything seemed fine in there.
Back in the bathroom again, a dozen things flashed through my mind. Could I take a shower in three minutes? Sure, my hair is short, it would dry. I speed showered, used the blow dryer and changed clothes. I put on a soft button down shirt. I think buttons are sexy.
“What else?” I said out loud.
A few days before, I’d been working on some watercolor sketches. The paints, paper, and unfinished work were still on the long dining table. They were pretty good. I decided to leave them there. Instead, I cleared some books off the smaller kitchen table near the windows and flipped a tablecloth of light purple cotton over it.
Good china or Fiesta? Is that a gay question or what? I opted for Fiestaware, better color choices. Dark green dinner plate and salmon colored salad plate with a bright yellow napkin for her. For me, light green dinner plate with a dark blue salad plate and a bright orange napkin. Hey, I went to art school, it’s what I do. I set out silverware and water glasses, and put wine glasses on the counter. I picked two different kinds of white wine and put the bottles in the refrigerator, I left some red wine on the counter. I made a few lighting decisions, but decided against candles. Too obvious.
I looked around again and tried to take a calming breath, which ended up stuttering down my throat. I figured I was ready if I could just breathe like a normal person.
I looked out the window into the parking lot below. A blue and white BMW Mini Cooper had pulled into one of the spaces. I had the vague feeling I’d seen that Mini before. Kathryn was opening the hatch back, getting out her laundry basket. She had really arrived. I let out a sigh of relief.
The doorbell rang. I pressed the intercom button, “Kathryn?”
“Yes,” she called.
“I’ll buzz you in. Just wait a minute in the foyer, I’ll be right there.”
I pressed the buzzer, then sped down the stairs. I tried to compose myself when I got to the landing. There she was, looking up at me, with that half smile and eyes I felt touching my soul.
“Hello,” she said smiling radiantly. She’d set her laundry basket and a duffel bag on the floor. Her small leather knapsack was over her shoulder. She reached to pick up the laundry basket.
“Here, let me open the elevator door,” I said walking down the rest of the flight. “It’s slower, but easier than climbing the stairs. There are a lot of them.”
“It would be nice not to have to climb any more stairs today. Not only is the laundry out of order at the Hampshire, but now it seems the elevator has also broken down. I’m beginning to hate that place.”
Through the window next to the foyer door I caught a glimpse of someone carrying a white paper bag. “Oh good, Kenny’s here with the food,” I said as I went to let him in. “Kenny, you’re right on time.” I took the bag from him and pulled out the bill.
Kenny Sakda is the youngest son of the family who owns Thai Kitchen. He just started high school. He works in the restaurant most evenings, and when he’s not working, he’s there doing his homework. I help him sometimes. There’s a good chance he’s gay. I think he’s working up the nerve to talk to me about it. He’d just gone through a growth spurt and is about my height now. Like a lot of teenage boys, he has the metabolism of a mosquito. Eats all the time, but thin as a rail. His short brown mop of hair was carefully uncombed and he was wearing his Fenchester High School letter jacket.
“The me krob is bangin,” he grinned, “Mom just made it.”
Kenny caught sight of Kathryn, then saw the basket of laundry. He glanced back at Kathryn and covertly eyed her up and down. He grinned at me again even harder this time. I felt myself blush.
“This is Dr. Anthony, she’s new to the neighborhood,” I said formally.
I turned to Kathryn, “This is Kenny Sakda, his family owns Thai Kitchen.”
With the duffel bag now in her arms Kathryn couldn’t shake hands, but she said in a charming voice, “It’s very nice to meet you. Please tell your family I enjoy their restaurant very much.”
“Awesome, I’ll tell ’em. Have a good dinner.” He walked to the door, but as he passed me he whispered, “Hottie,” just loud enough for me to hear.
I pushed opened the elevator doors, then stepped in, and put the bag of Thai food on the shelf. I got Kathryn’s basket and put that on the shelf too. I’d built it in the elevator for this very reason. All elevators should have shelves. Especially the ones whose doors require two hands to close.
Stretching to push the gate all the way up I explained, “The elevator is very slow, we could walk to the third floor faster than the elevator can make it to the second, and for some reason it’s even slower going down.” Kathryn stepped beside me. I pulled down the safety gate, then reached up and pulled the strap on the metal door. Half came down from the ceiling. The other half came up from the floor clanking together in the middle. I swung the locking mechanism in place. “If I don’t do this all correctly the elevator won’t go. It took me a month to learn. It looks old, but it’s safe.” I twisted the control lever.
“I’ve worked in many old buildings and ridden in all sorts of contraptions. This is palatial... and in contrast to the Hampshire, it works!” she said leaning against the shelf. Her eyes showed weariness, but they also had an amused gleam.
“So you have a Mini Cooper? I love those cars, what’s it like to drive?”
“I sort of fell into it, it was my brother’s. He owns a restaurant in Portland. I was visiting him and he was complaining that the Cooper was too small. I was saying that my car didn’t get good mileage. So we traded,” she said conversationally. “It’s fun to drive, but it’s the smallest car in the world. At times I think it should only be driven with clowns stuffed in the back seat. Fortunately, I rarely need a bigger car. The food smells wonderful. The kid seems nice...”
“Oh yeah, Kenny and I are pals. I’m sure he’s running home to tell his mom all about you.”
“Really? So is Thai Kitchen the gossip nerve center of Washington Mews?”
“It’s a major relay.”
“And is who you’re having dinner with a news flash?” she asked. Gentle laugh lines appeared at the corners of her eyes.
“Kenny thinks you’re hot,” I said watching the floor numbers.
“Hah,” she snorted. She paused, then said, “How long have you lived here?”
“About six months. It was pretty raw when I moved in but I’ve put a lot of work into it. I still have more to do, but I like the space.”
“Do you have a long term lease?”
“Well I guess you could say that. I own the building.”
“Really?” She was impressed.
“Yeah, it’s still hard for me to believe. I got it in exchange for solving a case.”
“You must be some crackerjack private eye.”
It was my turn to snort, “Yeah, I’m a pistol.”
Chapter 24
We’d come to the third floor. I was easing off the control lever, trying to stop the elevator in the right place. I didn’t want to do that up and down finagling thing, central to movie comedy bits in 1930s hotel scenes. I managed to come within an inch of
being even with the floor. Whew.
I pulled down on the strap and the horizontal metal doors blinked into the entrance area like giant eyelids. I’d left the double doors into the loft wide open so the whole space was in view.
The big room in front of the elevator door is about 2000 square feet. The far wall is floor to ceiling windows overlooking Washington Mews. I’d left the space dark, so the bright moonlight streaming through the windows would seem more dramatic. Christmas lights decorating Mews homes twinkled along with the stars above the dark silhouettes of rooftops and tree branches. It was the best view in the city.
I brought up the lights. Part of the wall to the left also consists of floor to ceiling windows. The rest of the north wall has a long kitchen counter with cabinets below and above it, with a built-in double oven and dishwasher and refrigerator at the end. In front of that is another counter island with a stovetop range, double sink, and more under counter cabinets. All the appliances are stainless steel. They’d come with the place when I took possession, but were still in the crates when I’d moved in. It was a great kitchen, beyond my wildest dreams. In fact, I’d rarely dreamed about kitchens before, but if I had, they wouldn’t have been as sweet as this.
To the right, in the middle of the south wall is an antique marble and brass fireplace with glass doors. I purchased it at an outdoor antique show and installed it with Farrel’s help. In front of the fireplace I’d built a one-foot high platform and covered it with soft carpet. There are a variety of pillows on the platform to make a place to lie in front of the fire. Around the platform are a couch and two easy chairs. When friends are sitting on those, we use the platform as a big low coffee table. To the right of the fireplace is the door to my bedroom.
The hardwood flooring is maple. There’s one big Asian carpet in the middle in muted tones of red and blue and a few other smaller Asian rugs scattered around in appropriate places. The ceilings are 11 feet high. I’d turned up the heat. It was comfortably warm.