“Yes, but I’ve got to wait. There’s an opening in the building on the other side of yours right now, but it’s a two bedroom. I can’t swing that much in rent. But there’s a one bedroom opening up at the end of the month. I reckon I’m going to stay with Charli and John. The only thing is they don’t have a spare bedroom. When he and the kids get back on Monday, I’ll be stuck on their sleep sofa.”
“What about staying at my place?” Tim turned instantly red, but he looked me straight in the eyes when he said it.
The image from my dream popped back into my head and I blushed and looked away. “I would, but you know Mom. As soon as I mentioned it as a possibility, she went on a tear about it again. I’m not sure why she’s being so unreasonable. I mean, it’s not like I’m shacking up with just any guy. It’s you. You’re like a brother.”
Although, thinking about the dream, and seeing him sitting across from me in his crisp cop uniform, was causing very unsibling-like thoughts, much to my dismay.
Tim did that thing he does with his lips when he gets annoyed. “I’m not your damned brother, Marty.”
“I know. I guess that’s why Mom gets in such a tizzy. She’s so afraid I’m going to somehow screw up her precious reputation. Hey, I forgot to ask you, are we still own for tonight? Carole wants us to meet her at Sabrina’s at five.”
He relaxed and smiled. “Of course. That Carole, she’s really great, isn’t she?”
I did the eye roll thing. “She is so not your type. She’s too blonde and too slinky. Plus, don’t you think she’s a bit of a bimbo? I think she’s one of those fan girls, too. You know, those girls that hang around the ball players hoping they’re going to land one of the guys heading for the big leagues and all that money and fame?”
“Carole isn’t like that, Marty. She’s smart. Did you know she earned an MBA from Tech? Plus, she’s a financial planner and she’s running her own business. I think you’re lumping her in with her roommate. Now that girl is a bimbo. She reminds me of Giselle, dressing all slutty and piling on a bunch of make-up. Girls like that don’t realize most guys aren’t into that sort of thing. Oh sure, they’ll sleep with them, but guys are looking for a girl with substance. Someone they can talk to. Someone who’ll make a good mom. Someone like….”
“Charli?”
“Exactly. Like Charli. And Carole. I think she’s like that. You too, of course,” he quickly added. “You’re that sort of girl. You just don’t know it yet. Which is why it bugs the snot out of me to see you hook up with such lame guys.” He crumpled his paper and tossed it in the trash can.
Tim’s remark about the guys I dated annoyed me, but I let it slide since he’d also put me in the “girls of substance” category with Charli. Although I was pretty sure he was wrong about Carole. She didn’t strike me as having much substance. The boy was simply bedazzled by a bodacious bod and a cute face.
He still had another fifteen minutes after we ate, so we strolled down Main and checked out the Glenvar Gift Shop.
I told him about thinking someone was inside the night before. “I thought it was probably Carole. And maybe you.” I gave a fake-sounding chuckle.
“Nope. It might have been Carole, I guess. I left about half an hour after you did. She said she had some work stuff to do, but it sounded like it was something she planned to do at her apartment. She didn’t mention going to the shop. Probably just your imagination.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you’re right. Have y’all gone in and searched yet?”
“Winger went in this morning with Mrs. Conner’s lawyer. The only personal items they found were a couple of fashion magazines and one of those business card holders, the one that’s like a book. It only had a few cards in it, lawyer, one of Carole’s, a hair salon, one for a dentist. Basically, nothing of interest.”
“Did the owner say what she was planning to do?” I asked.
“Hire someone to run it, I guess. Why? Are you thinking about getting out of radio?”
“The way things are going with the show, I might not have a choice. But, no. I was wondering if she planned on reopening. I know it sounds dumb, but I’d like to go in and check it out. Maybe it would help me learn a little more about Sabrina.”
I’d told Tim about my guilt-induced search for info during lunch and, much to my surprise, he hadn’t laughed or given me a hard time about it. In fact, he’d been supportive.
After fruitlessly trying to see inside the gift shop, which was still completely dark inside, we went across to the coffee shop and bought one of their huge brownies to split. Sitting in the very back next to the hallway leading to the restrooms and back entrance were, once again, Carole and Big Ed. They’d pulled a pair of leather armchairs close together and were having what looked to be an intimate conversation.
I nudged Tim and pointed them out. “That’s the second time I’ve seen them together this week. And he’s not been to work the past two days. You don’t think they’ve got something going on, do you?”
“Of course not. You told me that when you saw them in Pilazzo’s that Carole said he was a client. I’m sure they’re meeting to discuss his financial needs.”
I disagreed, but there was no use trying to argue with Tim about Carole, whom he’d practically elevated to sainthood. So annoying.
“Should we at least go say ‘hey’?”
Tim checked his watch. “Nope. I gotta be back and they look like they’re having a really serious discussion. I don’t want to interrupt. That would be rude.”
Again, I disagreed, but this time mainly because I was really, really curious. Blame it on my having a reporter for a mom. Either that or the fact that I’m just a naturally nosy person. Reluctantly, I took my share of the brownie and followed Tim out the door.
“By the way, are you still picking me up at three?” Tim asked when we got back to the police station. “You aren’t going to forget are you? My PT appointment is at three-thirty.”
“I said I would. Geez. Give me a little credit.”
“Marty, seriously, don’t take this the wrong way, but, coming from you, that’s not exactly reassuring. You’ll be late for your own funeral.”
My eyes practically did a three-sixty in their sockets. “A little dramatic, aren’t you, buddy? Not to mention, you’re sounding like my mom, what with all the cliché’s you’ve been spouting lately. I said I’d be here. I’ll be here.”
As soon as Tim was clearly inside the station and couldn’t see what I was up to, I high-tailed it back over to the coffee shop. This time, though, I slipped in the back door and up the tiny corridor past the restrooms, thinking that if I sort of snuck up to where Carole and Ed were sitting, I’d be able to overhear their conversation. And, yes, I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop, and, yes, I was ashamed of myself for even considering it, but, well, clearly not ashamed enough to not do it.
The Doom Divas were at work once again, though, because I’d just missed them. Carole was at the counter getting something in a to-go cup and Ed was nowhere to e seen.
“Shoot!”
“Martina Gayle! Your language!”
Okay, so I didn’t say shoot. “Uh, oh, hi there, Mom. It just slipped. Sorry. What are you doing here?”
She hugged me. “Just grabbing an iced tea before I meet with Detective Winger,” she said. “I’m hoping to get a bit more info from him about Sabrina Lewis. I’ve been digging away, but, so far, the only new information I’ve found is that she graduated magna cum laude with a business degree last winter from University of Raleigh. She’d been working as an assistant manager at a nice women’s clothing store down there and was about to be promoted to store manager, when she suddenly quit and moved here back in the spring. Quite odd, don’t you think? She took a huge pay cut, left behind all of her friends, and moved to a small city where she didn’t know a soul.”
We’d drifted around the corner and were in the chairs Ed and Carole had so recently occupied. “Maybe not. Maybe she moved here because of Mark Donavan. He graduated
from there too. Maybe she knew him in college and they were already a couple. I assumed she was a new girlfriend for him since Harry said he’d never met her before and called her one of Mark’s summer flings.”
“Well, that’s certainly plausible. I’ll see what I can find out. Maybe I can get Mark Donavan to agree to an interview.”
She stood to go. I noticed a business card on her chair. I wanted to pick it up, but decided to wait until Mom left. As nosy as I am, she’s even worse.
“Well, if anyone can do it, you can, Mom.” I meant that sincerely.
“Oh! I almost forgot. Have you spoken to Charlene?”
“No, why?
Mom sat back down. I hoped she didn’t notice the card. “She has exciting news. She’s going to go into business. Well, perhaps. John wants her to try it out for a few weeks to determine if she enjoys it and to ensure that all of the financial information is on the up-and-up, but she’s thinking about buying the Glenvar Gift Shop.”
If I would have been sitting on one of the coffee shop’s tall stools, I’d have fallen off. “What? When did all of this come up? She didn’t mention a word about it to me.”
Mom reached over and tucked my floppy curl behind my ear. “This morning. It’s all happened rather quickly, so that’s probably why she hasn’t told you yet. I called Mrs. Conner, the shop owner, whom I know from the Merchant’s Association, to see if she could give me more information about Sabrina. As we were talking, she asked me if I knew of anyone who might be willing to take over the business.
“She wanted someone to run the store at the least, but hoped to find a buyer. I told her I’d ask around. When I got off the phone with her, Charlene called, and in the course of our conversation, I asked her if she knew of anyone who might be interested in the job. Well, you know your sister. About an hour later, she called back and said that she and John had discussed it and that she’d already called Mrs. Conner, and had a meeting set up with Mrs. Conner’s accountant to check the books. It’s quite thrilling, don’t you think?”
What I thought was that my sister was in the midst of a full-blown midlife crisis, or had totally lost her mind, but I kept that observation to myself. “Sounds great. When’s she going to take over?”
“Saturday. Well, Charlene is going to open it back up that day and work at the shop for a few weeks, and then, if everything is going well and the numbers add up, she’s going to buy the place.”
After Mom left, I picked up the card. It was another one for the modeling agency. This one didn’t have Ed’s name or number on the back. Instead, it only had the website address and a phone number. Otherwise, it was exactly like the one he’d given me earlier. I didn’t really think much about it, figuring it had fallen out of his wallet or pocket or something. Still, I stuck it in my backpack instead of throwing it away. After that, I ordered another brownie and a root beer and left. The afternoon was flying by, and I had a few errands I needed to run before ferrying Tim to his physical therapy session.
I immediately put that out of my mind, though, because thinking about him doing physical therapy for some reason or another reminded me of the dream I’d had, which reminded me of the not-so-pure thoughts I’d had earlier, which made me have a few additional not-so-pure thoughts about him, which led to my being very, very hopeful that Tim’s aunt, who had stopped me to say hello, wasn’t able to read minds.
12
Tim texted three times to remind me not to be late picking him up. It was probably wise thinking on his part. But I was only ten minutes late. And that was Harry’s fault. He called right as I left the grocery store, where I’d stopped to pick up some more Kitty Gourmet for Delbert. I couldn’t exactly be rude. And I certainly wasn’t going to try and chat with him and drive at the same time. I’m all about following the law. No way could Tim fault me for wanting to be a safe and conscientious driver.
Harry begged me to come to the game that night since he was due to pitch. Even though I really didn’t want to, I couldn’t think of a good reason not to go.
“It’s at 7:05, like last night. I can leave you as many tickets as you want.”
I told him to leave two, on the off-chance that Tim would go with me, although I figured that if the choice came down to me or Carole, he’d pick Carole. We also made a date to meet after the game once again at his house, since I was going to be spending the night at Charli’s anyway.
“Thanks, Marty. It means so much to me.” Once again, he’d reverted to talking like a middle school boy, but I was actually starting to find it a bit endearing. “Will you wear the shirt? Pretty please? It would really, really make me happy. I’ll bet I’ll pitch better too if you wear it.”
I reluctantly agreed. Obviously, it was important to the guy. It shouldn’t be such a big deal to me. After all, it was only a shirt. A tight, slutty, midriff-baring, Giselle sort of shirt, but, still, just a shirt. It wasn’t like it was going to kill me and if that’s all it took to make him happy and help him to have a good game, well, it was the least I could do.
I know. Believe me, do I ever know. I get it now. I really do. But at the time, well, Tim wasn’t the only one bedazzled by a bodacious bod and a cute face.
Like I said, I was only ten minutes late picking him up, but Tim fussed at me all the way over to the PT office, reminding me that we didn’t have all the time in the world like I so obviously thought. Since he was treating me the way he normally did, I didn’t have any additional dirty thoughts about him or feel awkward. Much. I finally told him to shut up or I was going to make him start hitching rides with other people.
“Hopefully, I’ll get cleared today to start driving myself. Then you’ll be off the hook. Or I can get Carole to give me a lift next time. She offered.”
I’ll just bet she did and I’ll be transportation wasn’t the only thing she was offering. That’s what I thought, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t want to start another stupid argument with him.
We got to his appointment five minutes early, of course, and I waited in the lobby, playing games on my phone. After that, Tim went over to my place with me so I could get some fresh clothes, some toiletries, and a few other things, including my laptop. I felt really uncomfortable in the apartment. I didn’t want to go in the kitchen, but I needed to get Delbert’s anti-anxiety medicine and a couple of bills that were due at the end of the week. When I turned on the light, I half expected to see her still there on the floor.
I hurriedly grabbed Delbert’s pills off the little round dining table and picked up the stack of mail I’d left laying beside them. When I did, a small card fluttered to the floor. Tim picked it up and started to hand it to me, but then stopped and looked it over.
He chuckled. “You’re going into modeling? I thought you were against all that sort of stuff on the grounds that it’s exploitation.”
“Where on earth would you get an idea that I was going into modeling?”
He handed me the card. It was a duplicate of the one that I’d found in the chair at the coffee shop. I pulled that one out of my backpack and compared the two. When I looked at them, a shiver went up my spine.
I held up the one that had been left in my kitchen and stuck the other one back in my backpack. “Tim, this had to have come from Sabrina. Or her killer. The only thing I had in that stack was my internet bill, my phone bill, and my credit card bill.”
He suddenly grew very serious. “Crap. I wish we hadn’t handled it. Here, let me see it again.” He carefully took it by the edges and asked me to get him a plastic bag. “I’m going to call Winger and see if he wants me to bring it by tonight or if it can wait until tomorrow. It might not be anything, but you never know.”
As it turned out, the detective was on his way home and told Tim he’d swing by and pick it up. Tim stuck the card in the baggie, then went by his place to wait for Winger, while I headed on over to Sabrina’s apartment to meet Carole for the walk-through.
She was already inside, and judging from the two stacks of papers on Sabri
na’s dining table, which was really a card table and four metal folding chairs, had been there for some time. She wore a cute pair of navy short-shorts and a red and white, midriff-baring tank top, and she looked absolutely adorable with her hair all piled on top of her head. No wonder Tim seemed to be falling for her.
“Thanks again for this, Marcy. Marty, I mean. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that. I thought Timmy was coming with you.”
Timmy? No one called him Timmy except his mom, and even she saved it for times like his birthday or when he was sick.
“He’ll be here in a bit, after he showers. He had PT, so he was pretty ripe. Man, that guy stinks when he’s been exercising. Really nasty.”
I glanced around the combination living room-dining area. It was very plain, with almost no personality. In fact, it reminded me of one of those cheap rooms I’ve seen in those glossy Sunday discount furniture store ads, but even less stylish.
The only thing hanging on the wall was a Bomber’s promotional poster tacked up over the television. It featured Mark Donavan and a couple of other guys from the team hamming it up with a bunch of kids. If I hadn’t known about Sabrina’s abuse, I would have thought he was the nicest guy in the world, based solely on the fact that he was a really good looking guy. Of course, so was Ted Bundy and he was a mass murderer. Just goes to show, the old saying Mom’s always spouting about it being easier to smell a rat if you do so while judging a book by its cover is absolutely true.
Carole spent about ten minutes gushing over Tim and going on and on about how amazing and wonderful he was, and how she actually found the scent of a man who’d been working out to be a turn-on. I cut her off finally and asked what it was that she needed for me to do.
Instead she lectured me on the many duties an executor is responsible for and how hard it was to be her. Before she could finish, Tim showed up and she became so involved in flirting with him that she forgot all about me. I listened to the two of them gab for a few minutes and then decided I’d had enough.
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