by R. B. Conroy
Cathy could see his anxiety. She could tell that he definitely wanted that money. “Okay.” Then she quickly added, “And, I will call you. Don’t call me.”
“What time?”
Cathy sat up, her back very erect. She wanted to show power and be sexy at the same time. She needed this guy and she wanted him to think that there might be more than just a big check awaiting him. “I will call you tomorrow at three o’clock sharp. Should I use the number I used last night?”
Dirk’s brow narrowed; he didn’t like taking orders from anyone, especially some uppity rich broad. But he liked the sight of her protruding chest. It kind of took the edge off. He was quiet for a moment and then spoke, “Yeah, and three’s okay.” He checked his watch, “I gotta go now. It’s been over an hour.”
“Fine, I will talk to you tomorrow.” She stuck her hand out for a shake and winked at him, “I’ve enjoyed our meeting very much. I look forward to talking to you.”
Dirk wrapped his sand-paper like hand around her delicate fingers and squeezed tightly. “Don’t play games with me, lady, you might get hurt.” He slowly eased his grip.
Her hand throbbing, Cathy didn’t blink. “You don’t frighten me, Mr. Harrison, so cut the tough guy routine, okay? It will only get in our way.”
Before he could respond, she quickly stood, tossed her purse over her shoulders and started for the door. “Have your answer at three,” she shouted over her back as she exited the restaurant.
Cathy got into her convertible, grabbed the car keys from her purse and angrily tossed the leather purse on the passenger’s seat. “Moron!” she groused, jamming the key in the ignition. She quickly backed out of the parking spot, Olivia Newton John’s famous hit “Physical” blared forth from her purse. She dug her cell phone out of her cluttered purse and flipped it open.
“Good afternoon.”
“Hello, sweetie and how are you today?”
“I’m…uh good, very good.” She chuckled nervously, apparently taken aback by the ‘sweetie’ comment. “And you?”
“I feel wonderful. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“How’s your day going?”
“Just fine, thank you, I just finished a luncheon with a friend.”
“How was your lunch?”
“Fine.” Cathy took a quick right onto Bichara Boulevard.
“We have a match at four,” Eric reminded her.
“I know, darling, I never forget our matches.”
“I love your new tennis outfits, your tight little bottom looks great in them.” After the darling comment, Eric felt more comfortable talking aggressively.
Cathy legs starting moving back and forth involuntarily. There was something about a younger man ogling the body of an older lady that really turned her on-especially someone as handsome as Eric. “You make me so horny. I won’t be able to hit a shot today.”
Eric laughed, “Don’t worry, we’re playing the Gerbers. It should be a quickie.”
Cathy, becoming more and more turned on, replied softly, “I…uh, certainly hope so. It will give us more time together. We need to go back to the Duval house. I missed checking something last night.”
“Hmm, seems like the last time I was in that house, I ended up naked.”
Cathy visualized Eric’s naked body and her face flushed red. Her fantasies were running wild. She lifted a tissue from a small box on her console and dabbed the perspiration from her chest. “Maybe we should go check out the Duval house right now. I have some free time.”
Eric was quiet for a moment contemplating her offer and then he answered, “I have an appointment at the bank in a little over an hour. Is that enough time?”
“I’m near the Village of Del Mar. I can be there in about ten minutes. Where are you?”
“I’m at Sumter Landing at the furniture store looking for a couple of pieces for my Florida room. I’ve got the golf cart, so it will take me about fifteen minutes.”
An electric surge shot through Cathy’s body. She was shaking all over. The very thought of a midday tryst with this hunk of a man was almost more than she could bear. “Oh, that’s plenty of time. I’ll leave the garage door up and you can pull right in. Please close the garage door when you come in the house. I’ll be ready and waiting in the master suite.”
“Oh, baby, I can’t wait! See you in a few!”
16
Dirk let off the throttle as his bike cruised into the exit lane. He scanned the lot to see if there were any cars at the shop. There were none except for Daisy’s small pick-up tucked neatly in the corner of the long, narrow lot. Dirk’s bike sputtered and cracked across the lot and then coasted to a stop in front of a wooden sign that read “Boss.” He killed the engine, knocked down the heavy kickstand with the heel on his leather boot and hopped off his bike. He slid off his wrap-around sun glasses, stuck them in the side bag on his bike and then elbowed his way through the front door.
Daisy was watching him as he came in.
“We got anything to eat around here?” he groused.
Daisy dropped her pencil and leaned back in her chair, “What have you been doing for the past hour and a half?”
“Talking.”
“Talking?”
“Yes, talking.” Dirk gave her a stare that said no more questions.
Daisy paused. She wanted to say more and she felt that she had the right to say more, but she had a lot of work to do and arguing with Dirk would be a waste of her energy. So she quietly leaned up in her chair and went back to work. Without looking up from her work, she said, “There’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the fridge. I made it this morning, but I don’t have time to eat it. Besides, I’m on a diet so I’ll just eat some crackers.”
Dirk strolled deliberately toward her desk, “One more thing.”
“What is it?” The feisty secretary didn’t look up.
“Tell me more about our money situation?”
Daisy continued jotting down figures on a spreadsheet, still avoiding direct eye contact.
He slammed his fist on corner of her desk, “Did you hear me?”
Daisy stopped writing and tossed her pencil. It bounced on the desk top and ricocheted off her coffee cup. She looked at the pencil for a moment as if pondering whether to apologize to her boss for the angry display. She decided not to. Then, without speaking, she leaned to her left and pulled open the large bottom drawer on her desk. She lifted a thick file folder from the drawer and plopped it on her desk. She finally looked at Dirk; she had an agitated, perturbed look on her face, “Where do you want to start?”
Dirk looked puzzled, “How should I know? Do we still have that loan with Sun Trust?”
Daisy shook her head disgustedly, “You couldn’t pay me enough for all the shit I do around here.” She peeled the cover back on the file and began sifting through the papers. She paused and examined a printout for a moment and then lifted it from the file. She looked it over again and then handed it to Dirk, “This is the most recent past due letter from Sun Trust concerning your business line of credit.”
Dirk snatched the letter from her and quickly scanned it. After a few seconds he tossed it on her desk. “I don’t understand all of this legal mumbo-jumbo stuff. Just tell me what it says.”
Daisy rolled her eyes and grabbed the sheet off the desk. “It says, that you are ninety days past due on your payment and that if satisfactory arrangements are not made to bring this loan current within the next thirty days, foreclosure proceedings will begin.”
“Those bastards can’t foreclose on me! It’s just a line-of-credit!”
“It’s a line-of-credit backed by this business, Dirk. They sure as hell can foreclose.”
Dirk was very agitated, “Whose side are you on?”
Daisy took a deep breath, “It’s not about whose side I’m on, Dirk. It’s about the facts. You signed over a mortgage on this property when you took out this line-of credit five years ago.”
Dirk dropped down in
the chair next to Daisy’s desk and stretched out his legs, “How much to we owe them?”
“Your payment is just over twelve thousand a month, and with late charges and so forth, we owe them just under thirty-nine thousand dollars.”
He grimaced, “How much do we have in our checking account?”
“Twenty-seven hundred dollars-just about enough to make payroll.”
“Hell, we’re broke!” the gnarly biker growled.
Daisy’s eyes went to the ceiling, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last couple of months, Dirk. We have serious problems and they’re not getting any better.”
“Who else do we owe?”
“We owe Harley Davidson thirteen thousand dollars for parts and Gateway Bank thirty-two thousand for our floor plan, and to top it all off, we’re behind on most of our other bills, including our phone bill and utilities.”
Dirk nervously twisted the Sturgis ring and murmured, “So, how much do we owe total?”
“About ninety grand, give or take a few thousand.”
“So a hundred grand would make us well?”
“Yes, but we’re all loaned up-we can’t get a new loan. Nobody would touch us with a ten foot pole right now.” Daisy’s expression softened, “The economy is horrible around here and I heard on a cable news channel the other day that it’s not going to get better any time soon. Maybe it’s time to cut your losses and get out of this rat race. Maybe it’s time to try something new.”
Dirk stood up, walked over and stared out the window at the heavy traffic whizzing past on 27 and then, in almost a whisper, he said, “Nobody’s gonna take my business away from me. Nobody!” His eyes darkened into a defiant expression. “I’ll get the hundred grand.” He walked over and opened the small refrigerator next to the coffee maker, grabbed Daisy’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich and headed back to the garage area.
Daisy’s eyes followed him across the room and into the garage. She shook her head and went back to work.
17
“Where are we playing today, Dave?”
“Bogart.”
“I’m glad you’re driving, I still can’t find half of the courses in this place. I don’t know how you do it.”
“You know that big, glossy map they give you when you first move in?”
“Yeah.”
“I keep it on the dining room table and I check it out every time we play. That way I know how to get us where we are going. It’s simple.” Dave seemed amused. “For a banker, you sure aren’t very well organized.”
“I don’t have to be, I’ve got you to haul me around.”
Dave shook his head as he exited the cart lane and turned into the parking lot at Bogart. His golf cart bounced over a narrow speed bump rattling the clubs on the back of the cart. “We’re a little late, looks like everybody’s already here.”
Ed glanced at the starter hut. It was surrounded by golfers presenting their IDs and signing up for the round. “Looks like a good group today. Alfonzo’s over there by the putting green talking his head off as usual. Who’s that guy with him? He looks familiar.”
“I ran into Alfonzo last night at Glenview Country Club. He told me he was bringing a guest today-a buddy of his from New York.”
A smiling Alfonzo stopped his conversation with the guys and walked quickly over to their cart, with a large, Italian looking gentleman in tow. “And how are my Hoosier pals today? Late as usual I see.”
The quick Dave replied, “We would have been here on time, but when I picked up Ed we noticed that a sprinkler head had broken off in your yard and was spraying water through an open window into your newly remodeled Florida room. Mary had already left for the day, so Ed and I hurried over to your house. We turned off the sprinklers and did the best we could to drain all the water out of your new room.” Dave glanced at Ed, “I don’t think everything was ruined.”
“No. that one table lamp looked okay,” Ed jested.
Alfonzo roared in laughter, “Well, I guess you had a good excuse today! I’m sure glad I gave you the code to my garage door.”
Ed and Dave hastily exited the cart; there were high fives all around. After the laughter subsided, Alfonzo introduced his friend. “Hey guys, this here is Vinnie Esposito. We worked at the NYPD together, except Vinnie became a big shot detective.”
“Hi, Vinnie, nice to meet you.”
Ed slowly extended his hand for a shake; his eyes surveyed the big man’s pocked face. “You look familiar to me, Vinnie.”
“Yea, me too,” Vinnie replied. “I live in Duval, how about you?”
“I live at Bridgeport, but my wife and I come over to Duval on a regular basis to check on a friend’s house.”
Vinnie nodded, “The Smiths, that’s where I’ve seen you-at the Smith’s.”
Ed’s face broke into a smile, “That’s it. You drive that blue and white police cart. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Thanks.”
“Are the four of us playing together?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, we sure are,” Alfonzo replied.
“We’d better get going, looks like there’s only two groups in front of us,” Ed said. The four men all climbed aboard their respective carts and drove down the winding cart path toward the first tee. They pulled to a stop a polite distance from the other waiting carts and all four exited their carts and began to stretch and loosen up.
Vinnie grabbed a five iron from his bag, gripped the club at both ends, lifted it above his head and began leaning left and right, loosening the muscles in his arms and back. Vinnie was surprised at meeting Ed. It was only the day before when his nosy neighbor, Rex, told him about Ed’s wife and another man visiting the Smith’s house late at night. It made Vinnie feel uncomfortable. Ed appeared to be a very friendly and considerate type. The possibility of this man’s wife having an affair in the Smith’s house right under Vinnie’s nose was disconcerting. It didn’t help things when Vinnie noticed a Marine tag hanging from Ed’s golf bag. A former jarhead himself, Vinnie had a soft spot in his heart for anyone who had served in the military, especially a Marine. Vinnie’s investigative juices began to percolate. He needed to find out a little bit more about Ed and his wife before, as his neighbor Rex warned, “the situation gets out of control and somebody gets hurt.”
The social Ed made it easy for him. Club in hand, he approached Vinnie. “Were you always a detective for the NYPD?”
“Nah, I was on the beat for about ten years. I was a detective the last twenty or so. They usually only promote guys with experience. The ten years was worth it. It was always my dream to be a detective in the “Big Apple”. What about you, Ed, how’d you make a buck?”
Ed lifted his club behind his back and began to stretch, moving his shoulders from left to right. “I’m a retired banker from a small town in Indiana.”
“Oh boy, you’re one of those!” Ed chuckled.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“Married?” Vinnie asked.
“Sure am, forty-seven years.”
“Wow! That’s a long time! Me and Angel only go back forty-five years.” Both men smiled.
“Is your wife a golfer?” Vinnie asked.
“No, she’s an avid tennis player, among other things.” Ed’s voice trailed off at the end of the comment.
“Sounds like a busy lady,” Vinnie offered.
“Yeah, she keeps plenty busy all right.” Ed glanced toward the tee. One of the groups in front of them had just teed off and was pulling away from the tee box. “We’d better move up,” he said. “One of the groups has already hit.”
The men hopped aboard their carts and drove closer to the tee. There was one more group in front of them still waiting to tee off giving Vinnie a little more time. He slid off his cart and walked over to Dave and Ed’s cart. A cell phone rang; Dave smiled nervously, lifted his cell from the cup holder and hopped off the cart. “Excuse me,” he said. He hurried away from the tee to answer his phone leaving Ed alone on the c
art giving Vinnie a chance to continue their earlier conversation.
“My wife’s just the opposite, Ed. She doesn’t do a whole lot. She likes reading books and going to her bird watching class every Thursday.”
Ed shook his head, “I wish my wife was home a little more. It seems like she’s gone all the time.”
Vinnie’s brow lifted, “Oh, don’t you two play tennis together?”
Ed grinned, “No, Vinnie, it’s not for me. It’s too hard on my back. Cathy plays in two leagues with the girls and one mixed doubles league.”
Vinnie’s brow narrowed.
The perceptive Ed noticed Vinnie’s reaction and explained, “Cathy asked me about playing in the mixed league, but since I don’t play tennis, I suggested that she find another partner. She’s started off with an old friend of ours, but he had hip surgery. Now she’s playing with a new guy-Eric somebody-I don’t remember his last name.”
“I guess I’m from the old school. If my wife plays in any mixed doubles league, it’s going to be with me, not some younger fellow!” Vinnie laughed.
Ed smiled, “What makes you think he’s a younger fellow?”
“His name. I don’t know anybody our age named Eric.”
“You’re a good detective, Mr. Esposito. I think this Eric is quite a bit younger than Cathy.” Appearing to be a little defensive, Ed attempted to defend his wife’s actions. “A lot of women play tennis with men other than their husbands in the mixed doubles league. It’s no big deal.” Ed’s voice once again trailed off.
Vinnie didn’t agree that there were a “lot” of women playing with other men in the many golf and tennis leagues around The Villages, but sensing that Ed was becoming uncomfortable, he backed off. “My wife always tells me I’m a little too old fashioned.”
Ed grinned.
“One more thing, Ed.”
“Yes?”
“I’m on the security force here at The Villages, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll kind of keep an eye on the Smith house for you. If I see anything out of the ordinary, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Vinnie!” Ed pulled out his money clip and slid a card out and handed it to Vinnie.”Here’s my card with my cell and home phone numbers.”