Scrambling from behind my desk, I hurried from my office and down the hall, hoping the visitor was still there. What if it was a messenger from the Hill? How embarrassing if I left them standing on the doorstep my very first day at the office.
I yanked the heavy door open. No one was there. Then I saw the spray of flowers sitting on the front step. Glimpsing a man at the front gate, I raced down the steps.
“Wait! Sir! Could you wait, please?” I called after him, determined to learn if the floral messenger knew who the mysterious “DD” was.
The man turned at the gate, looked at me for a second, then began to walk back. As I approached him, I realized he didn’t look like a delivery man at all. He was too well-dressed. Casual, but expensive casual. His brown leather jacket looked soft as butter.
Now that I was closer, I also noticed that Luisa hadn’t lied. He was definitely good-looking. Very good-looking. His dark brown hair had flecks of silver running through it, and his face was tanned with an outdoors kind of tan.
“Sexy,” Crazy Ass whispered in my ear before Sober-and-Righteous smacked her.
“Did you deliver all those beautiful flowers this week?” I asked. “They’re simply gorgeous.”
The man smiled. “Yes, I did.”
“I’m Molly Malone, and I wanted to thank the sender for being so thoughtful. This has been a difficult time for our family.”
“I believe the sender wanted to convey his deepest sympathy on the tragic death of your niece.”
“Well, I sincerely appreciate his kindness. But I confess I’m confused. I don’t know anyone named ‘DD.’ Do you know this person?”
His smile spread to his eyes this time. I stared back. Where had I seen that smile before?
“He’s an admirer of yours.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding. I don’t have any admirers who would send me that many flowers. Not in Colorado and certainly not in Washington.” I gave him a skeptical look. “Who is this guy, and how’d he find me?”
He pulled a folded newspaper from inside his jacket and opened it, then held up the page with my jacklighted deer photo. “Picture doesn’t do you justice, Molly. You’re much prettier than that.”
I stared at the D.C. Dirt, newspaper of infamy, and closed my eyes. Great. A stalker. A handsome stalker, but a stalker, nonetheless. And this day had started out so well.
I pointed at him. “You’re ‘DD’?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And you’re a stalker. Great. Now I know I should go back to Colorado. Nobody cared enough to stalk me there. I haven’t been in D.C. two weeks, and I’ve been insulted in the press, and now I’m being stalked. Wonderful.”
“I’m not a stalker, Molly. I’m an old friend.”
“Oh, really?” I allowed sarcasm to drench my voice.
“It was a long time ago, Molly.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, clearly humoring him. Apparently my alluring photo had attracted a disturbed, good-looking stalker. Where were all the sane men?
“We went to high school together in Arlington.”
I wasn’t expecting that, and it must have shown, because he laughed softly while I remembered to close my mouth. Maybe he wasn’t a stalker after all. “You went to Washington-Lee?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t go to that prissy girls’ school.”
That made me smile. “Yeah, I don’t think you would have passed the physical.”
“You’ve got the same smile, Molly.”
That made me feel good for some reason I didn’t understand. Maybe because it had been a really tough two weeks. I folded my arms and looked him up and down, allowing my memory to slip into the past again.
“Were we in the same class or something?” I approached closer, studying his face, hoping I’d recall. So far, nothing.
“Yeah, English and History, I think … I only remember you.”
I stared up into his face, knowing I’d seen that smile, that devil-be-damned look in those dark eyes before. A long time ago.
Suddenly—out of nowhere—a torrent of memories surged through my mind, images from that long-ago past flashing in front of my eyes, startling me with their intensity. The scent of cherry blossoms in the spring, a rust-colored setting sun reflecting off the Tidal Basin, a spirited argument on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Words of war and dreams. A kiss in the twilight.
My mouth dropped open again as I stared into his face. “Danny?” I whispered. “Danny DiMateo?”
The light in his eyes deepened. “You remember.”
Boy, did I. The memories flooded through me now, bringing a strange sensation inside—a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“My God, Danny …” I breathed. “It’s been years ago.”
“Nineteen sixty-nine.”
I remembered it all. Years of fire and rage. And Vietnam. Danny and I had argued for over an hour beneath Abe Lincoln’s statue. Danny was joining the Marines right after high school graduation. I couldn’t believe it. The war was tearing the country apart, and Danny couldn’t wait to get there. His dad had fought with the Marines in the Second World War.
“Nineteen sixty-nine,” I reminisced. “I was leaving for college, and you were leaving for Vietnam. How … how long did you stay?”
“Long enough. Two tours.” The light in his eyes changed.
“Thank God you made it out alive.”
“More or less.”
Somehow I couldn’t break eye contact. “I worried about you,” I said without thinking. Where had that come from?
The warm smile returned. “Maybe that helped.”
I could feel his smile reach inside, and it felt good. Way too good. I needed to back off. Things were stirring inside me that I hadn’t felt for a long time. I glanced away for a second. “Do you live in Washington now?”
He nodded. “Ever since I retired from the Corps five years ago.”
I stared at Danny again. Couldn’t help it. “You were a career Marine? My God, Danny, the world’s blown up since high school, and you’ve probably been right in the middle of it.”
“Pretty much. Special Forces.”
I closed my eyes and grimaced on purpose while he laughed. “Why am I not surprised? You probably went from Vietnam right into a nest of guerrillas in some jungle.”
“Actually, they sent me to college after those two Nam tours. By the time I got my degree, the Middle East was on fire. The jungle came later.”
I let admiration color my voice. “An officer and a gentleman. That doesn’t surprise me, either. You did good, Danny.”
“Thanks. So did you, Molly. That’s why I’m not surprised to see you working for Senator Russell. I’ve kept track of your career over the years. I had a feeling you’d be back in Washington one of these days.”
My mouth dropped open again. Damn. I had to stop doing that. “You kept track of me? My God, Danny, my life is pretty boring. You need a retirement hobby. Why don’t you take your wife traveling?” Now, why in the world did I say that?
“Divorced.”
That was why. Well, no points for subtlety. If Crazy Ass didn’t stop messing with me, I was going to slap her.
“Ah, yes, happens to a lot of us. But, if you’ve been keeping track, you already knew that.”
“You’re right. So I figured you might like a reliable escort to help you reacquaint yourself with your old hometown,” he said with entirely too engaging a grin. “Since you’ve moved back, that is. Are you living in D.C. or Virginia?”
“Actually, I live just a few blocks away on P Street. The senator’s chief of staff is letting me stay in one of his vacant townhouses. For free, believe it or not. It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’ve got the time. Why don’t you let me introduce you to some of my
favorite coffee shops around here. Or maybe lunch.”
Just then, Luisa’s voice called from the front step. “Molly, I’m back. Did you learn who sent the flowers?”
I gestured to Danny. “Turns out ‘DD’ is an old friend from high school.”
“Well, isn’t that nice. Why don’t you two catch up over lunch,” she said as she hastened down the steps. I noticed she was carrying my purse.
The images of accounts and spreadsheets danced in front of my eyes for a minute. “I really should get back to work.”
“Nonsense, Molly. You’ve worked enough for your first day. You should take it slowly,” Luisa said, handing me the purse. “Now, run along and enjoy this beautiful afternoon with your friend. Everything’s under control here.” She gave a little wave and smiled before hurrying back to the house.
“Sounds like good advice,” Danny said, gesturing toward the gate. “I have a café in mind I think you’ll like. It’s only a few blocks away.”
I fell into step with him as we headed out to the sidewalk. “I’ve wanted to wander down Wisconsin Avenue and explore but hadn’t found the time yet. There’s so much to do, moving in.” I glanced down the quiet residential street and the overarching trees that had leafed out in lime spring green. Old memories poked through. “Some things look exactly the same as when I … when we lived here. And some things are totally changed.”
After several seconds of silent walking, Danny’s voice came quietly. “Molly, let me say right now how very sorry I am about your husband’s death years ago. That was tragic. I know you were devastated. I could tell. That picture in the paper of you and your little girls nearly broke my heart. I won’t mention it again, I promise.”
Wow. This conversation was going where no man had gone before. And … it was okay. I was okay. I turned and studied Danny for a long moment, while he stood unperturbed by my scrutiny.
“It’s okay, Danny. Time has passed.” I shrugged. “We heal, if we’re lucky.”
Danny glanced down. “Yeah, we do. We heal or die.”
I’d glimpsed empathy in the depths of those dark brown eyes. Even so, I deliberately chose a lighter tone. “Scars on the inside, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” He started walking again. “C’mon, let’s have lunch. You can fill me in on this new job with Senator Russell on the way.”
“Well, I guess I can’t beat a badass ex-Marine escort, can I? I ought to be safe from stalkers for sure,” I said, joining him as we headed down the sidewalk. “Marines probably eat stalkers for breakfast.”
“Marines eat sand.”
It felt good to laugh. A stray thought wiggled from the back of my brain. Something Danny had said. “How did you see my photo in the paper all those years ago? Weren’t you on duty somewhere?”
“Yeah, but I always had the Post mailed to me.”
I spotted the increased traffic as we neared Wisconsin Avenue. “Dave died in 1983. Where were you then?”
“Beirut.”
I changed the subject as we turned the corner.
_____
Swirling the Vouvray in my wineglass, I savored the delicate aroma while I gazed out at the tulip-filled flower boxes that lined the café’s patio overlooking the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. Tourists in souvenir tee-shirts strolled along the towpath below, their voices muffled by the overhanging trees and surrounding bushes.
We’d chosen to walk to the café, which took us along treelined Georgetown streets, across the crowded main thoroughfare of M Street, then down to the towpath that bordered the canal. I saw restaurants paralleling the canal that weren’t there years ago. Clearly, I needed to rediscover my hometown.
Strolling along the towpath that barge-pulling mules once trod, I confessed my anger and frustration over the investigation into my niece’s death. Police had nothing substantial to go on, so the mugger-killer would get away with murder. Danny expressed his sorrow again over Karen’s death—in words this time, rather than flowers. As we joined the tourists enjoying the early April sunshine, I explained my new position with Senator Russell as well as the triple whammy of events that had brought me back to Washington.
Conversation flowed as easily and as smoothly as the Potomac River, only a couple of blocks away. Talk turned personal at lunch. Danny admitted his reluctance to accept his last promotion, knowing that “bird colonels” were usually stuck behind a desk in D.C. He’d traded off one overseas assignment after another so he could keep the desk at bay for a while longer. Special Forces had spoiled him to the adrenaline rush of action. Washington was too slow for him, and Danny confessed he’d gotten married a second time out of boredom. Either that or the city had rotted his brain.
After I stopped laughing, I admitted my own poor track record at a second marriage. Maybe I hadn’t remarried out of boredom, but loneliness was a poor excuse, too. I sensed that was closer to Danny’s rationale as well. By the time we’d finished a delicate broiled salmon and the last glass of wine was poured, our conversation had settled into the comfortable, relaxed cadence of friends who’d been talking to each other for years instead of hours. Silence interspersed with sharing.
I glanced out at the canal flowing within its ordered locks, the towpath winding beneath the trees. Memories flitted through my mind again. I used to run along this towpath in the mornings when the kids were in preschool.
“Thanks for taking me here, Danny. This has always been one of my favorite places. Can people still run on the towpath? That would be a great way to start my day.”
Danny set his empty wineglass on the table. “Yeah, but there are some places that are safer than others. Why don’t you go running with me first, and I can show you a safe route.”
“Go running with an ex-Marine? You’d leave me in your dust.” I drained the last delectable drop of Vouvray.
“I’ll throttle back. Besides, we can finish up at another favorite outdoor cafe for breakfast. You know Washington. This gorgeous weather will be gone in a heartbeat.”
“True enough,” I said with a sigh, as I drank in the colors surrounding me much as I had the wine earlier. “Is that offer of tour guide still good? It looks like I need to relearn this city.”
“Absolutely. How’s this weekend?”
“Saturday would work. Nan and Bill have already planned something for Sunday.”
He withdrew his data phone. “Okay. I’ll give you a call this week. What’s your number?”
I rattled off my cell number, realizing that in so doing I was agreeing to see this man again. This man from my past. That surprised me. Of course, it delighted the heck out of Crazy Ass and sent Sober into a scowling pout, muttering that only a week or so ago I had “sworn off men.”
I didn’t care. I’d relaxed this afternoon, completely relaxed. And considering the traumatic events that had happened since I arrived in Washington nearly two weeks ago, relaxation was something I needed a lot more of.
“You’ve got my card. That has my cell. Call me anytime, Molly.”
“Your card says you’re consulting. Not surprising. Like most retired brass. Who’re you working for, or can you say?”
“Mostly I consult for private clients.”
I’d noticed he said ‘mostly.’ Intrigued, I pressed for more. Couldn’t help it. That was my nature. “What the heck is operational logistics?”
“You know the old saying, Molly. ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you,’” he said with a smile.
“This is your idea of retirement? Sounds like you’re still skating on the edge of that scary stuff.”
“I simply give advice and counsel.”
“Uh-huh.” I glanced at my watch and was shocked by the time. “Oh my gosh! It’s after three o’clock! I should get back to the office.” Sober gave me a jab.
“But we haven’t had coffee yet,” he said as he fla
gged down the waiter.
Watching the efficient waiter scurry off with our coffee orders, I remarked, “I’m amazed they’ve let us sit here so long.” I glanced around the empty café. “We’re the only ones here.”
“I let them know that we’d be lingering over lunch and requested we be undisturbed. As I said, I’m a regular.”
I laughed softly as I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “That had to be some tip.”
“It was worth it.”
“That’s flattering as hell, Danny.”
I could feel that bad-boy smile of his working the same magic inside that it had years ago. Good Lord. Was this a second childhood, or had I never left the first? Beats me.
“I’m glad you notice.”
“Notice? How could I not? You’re like a laser beam. And I thought I was focused.”
“Can’t help it, Molly. Old habits. Focus keeps you alive.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of intimidating. I feel like there’s a red light dancing on my forehead. Am I the one who got away or something?”
Danny laughed as he leaned back into his chair, allowing the waiter to serve our coffees. “Sorry, Molly. Didn’t mean to spook you. I’m simply glad to see you after all these years.”
I decided to see if I could throw him off balance, just for the hell of it. I settled back into my chair and sent him a wicked smile. “Danny, you live in Washington, D.C., where single women outnumber single men five to one or more. You can’t tell me you’ve been lacking for female companionship.”
Danny met my gaze and held it, while he laughed. “That’s true. But you’re different. You always have been. That’s why I’ve never been able to forget you, Molly”
That felt way too good. So good I had to break off eye contact. Okay, he won that point. “Well, thanks to the D.C. Dirt, no one in Washington will be able to forget me.” I sipped my coffee. Strong and rich with a hint of chicory.
“This day is too pretty to waste. Let’s take the housekeeper’s advice. My car’s parked right down the street. Why don’t we take a quick drive past the Tidal Basin?” he tempted with that smile. “For old memories’ sake.”
Deadly Politics Page 11