When the Snow Falls

by Fern Michaels

  I let the paper feed into the copier and said, “Nothing.”

  “That was a case I did for a friend,” he said, moving away.

  He’d clearly seen the file that had interested me. His tone was dismissive, but I’d caught a glimpse of the handwritten note he’d saved and tucked inside, in a woman’s hand, saying her husband had learned of her phone calls to Dwayne. There was just something intimate about it that had caught my attention, and I couldn’t completely let it lie. “Who’s Lisette?”

  “She was a client.”

  “Sounds . . . like maybe more than a client, from the tone. . . .”

  He didn’t look up from the paper in his hands. “Not my finest hour.”

  Now I was definitely blown away. “You got involved with a client?” I hate to say it, but I felt jealousy slide through my veins.

  “Mmm.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Dwayne . . .” I held up my hands in surrender.

  “We dated. It was a mistake.”

  “You dated while she was married?” I could hear the scorn around the edges of my voice. I’m not normally so judgmental, but Dwayne knows how to make me crazy.

  “Before. She was my girlfriend for a while, then she married somebody else, then she called me when she suspected he was having an affair.”

  “Oh.” That was better . . . minutely. “Was he having an affair?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “He was having two.”

  “Two affairs? At the same time?” To Dwayne’s nod, I declared, “Good God, what a lot of work.”

  “That’s how he got caught. Mixed up his two honeys, and one tattled on him.”

  “Honeys?”

  “Is mistresses better?” he asked me.

  “Not much. I can’t decide whether I’m offended or entertained.”

  “Anything else you want to know about Lisette?”

  “You don’t need to tell me anything.”

  He gave a short chuckle that was more like a snort. I narrowed my eyes at his back when he turned back to his box of files. It bugs me that Dwayne thinks he has my number, and maybe he does, but that doesn’t mean it’s not irritating.

  About that time, the front door opened, and James and Darcy walked in.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Darcy greeted, waving a hand. “Thought I’d come to see you at your office to fill out the contract.” Her eyes drifted over to Dwayne, who was smiling at her but hadn’t left his box of files. She came to attention and zeroed in on him like a laser before sauntering over to him. I felt my teeth go on edge.

  She’s happily married. She’s not interested in Dwayne, and he would never be interested in her.

  James asked me, “You have a boilerplate contract?”

  “Well, sort of. Let me get it ready.” Reluctantly, I left them to go into my office and flip open my laptop. I sent a copy of the contract with Durbin Investigations’ going rates to the printer, and then headed back into the main office as quickly as I could. By this time, Darcy had sidled right up to Dwayne and was cooing everything she said to him. I looked at James, but he was reaching for the contract that Dwayne had grabbed from the wireless printer and either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  I tried to ignore Darcy’s gooey interest in Dwayne as James wrote a check for the retainer and handed it to me. I, in turn, handed it to Dwayne, who shot me a quick smile that made me feel proud. Our first cash inflow at the new off ice. If Darcy hadn’t been so annoying, I would have basked in the good feelings of the moment, but I had to keep them in check as it took another ten minutes before I managed to shoo Darcy out the door. James lingered to ask Dwayne a few questions, which made me wonder if he was already regretting passing him over for me. Well, I had sung Dwayne’s praises, so if that was the way it came down, so be it. I wasn’t in love with either Darcy or James, but they’d come because of me and that’s what mattered.

  Luckily, all precipitation had ceased for the time being, though the clouds were low and gray as I walked Darcy to her car, a white BMW. “So, Dwayne,” Darcy said to me, as she stopped next to the vehicle. “He is hot.” She waved a hand in front of her mouth and whistled.

  “You think so?”

  “White hot,” she confirmed. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I just don’t look at him that way,” I lied. “He’s my boss, my coworker . . . my friend.”

  “Oh, please.” She peered at me closely. “You want to do him, I can tell.”

  “I’m going to call Karen Aldridge and see if she’ll meet with me,” I said. I was desperate to change the subject and was doing my utmost not to let her know.

  Darcy was not to be diverted, however. “I bet James is asking Dwayne about you right now. About whether you and he might be interested in taking things to a new level.”

  “We just work together. Dwayne’ll tell you the same.” Actually, I was starting to sweat. Good God, all I needed was for these people to interfere. Didn’t I have enough problems where Dwayne was concerned?

  “James saw how drawn I was to Dwayne. He’s sensitive that way. I’m sure he’s attracted to you, too.”

  “Who? What do you mean? I don’t know what you mean,” I stuttered, aware that I was starting to babble but unable to stop myself.

  James strode through the office door at that moment and headed our way. Darcy watched him approach, a funny smile on her lips. “Oh, you know. . . . I was thinking about a little foursome fun with all of us.”

  All of us? I think it took a full five seconds to pass before I truly believed the message she was sending. By that time, James had sidled up next to her and was looking at me, also with a weird smile. I saw this out of my peripheral vision because I couldn’t meet his eyes. My own were fixed on Darcy.

  “I don’t follow,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t get panicky. I just meant some role-playing, but you would end up with Dwayne, of course, and I would be with my husband.” She gave James a quick, loving squeeze.

  “I honestly don’t know what to say to that,” I said.

  Heaving a sigh, James said, “Darcy, you’ve scared her to death.”

  No shit, Sherlock. My legs were backing me away from them, but I ran right up against Dwayne’s truck. I pressed myself against it as if I could morph into the paint if I just tried hard enough.

  “Jane doesn’t scare,” Darcy disagreed, but then she took a good hard look at me and I heard her say, “Hmmm.”

  I had this mental image of Darcy rubbing herself all over Dwayne as a means to whetting her sexual appetite. Contrary to what they believed, I wasn’t scared, but the needle on my ick meter had zoomed to the red zone.

  “Christmas Eve would be a good time—” Darcy began.

  “Nope,” I cut her off.

  “Well, if your holidays are full, then—”

  “Not then, either,” I said.

  “I haven’t given you a date yet,” Darcy pointed out coolly.

  “Give it up, Darcy,” James said on a sigh.

  “You didn’t . . . say anything to Dwayne, did you?” I burst out in horror.

  “I just talked to him about the lawsuit,” James assured me.

  “Maybe we should ask him,” Darcy suggested, glancing back at the office door.

  “No!” James and I shouted at the same time, though his voice wasn’t quite as loud as mine. “I’ve got to get on the job,” I said, pulling myself away from the truck and circumventing its grille as I hurried back to the office. I tried to be cool, but I was running and screaming in my head like a little girl. As soon as I was safe inside, I shut the door behind me, turned the lock, then skedaddled toward my office.

  My behavior caused Dwayne to shoot me a curious look. “What?”

  “I’m just going to . . . uh . . . put in a call to Karen Aldridge.” I moved to my office.

  “Why are you walking sideways?”

  “No reason.”
Inside my office, I threw myself into my chair and then tried to marshal my scattered thoughts. Part of me was truly annoyed at myself. So, they liked things a little kinkier than I did. Big deal. The world was vast and, as they say, it takes all kinds.

  I was honestly more worried they would bring up the idea to Dwayne, who suddenly appeared in the aperture of my office door. “How are you going to invite her to lunch?” he asked. “She won’t want to see you, since you’re friends with the Wexfords.”

  “Not friends. I’m not friends with the Wexfords.”

  “I’m just saying, you might want to try some other tactic than just offering up free food to this woman. I know that’s your go-to, but it’s not necessarily hers, especially since she’s suing them.”

  “And suicidal,” I said. “Y’know, I don’t really know if I’m the right person to handle this job.”

  “Something happened,” he said, a line drawing between his brows.

  “No. I think you’re right . . . I’ll just come up with a different plan.”

  “Like what?”

  “Geez, Dwayne, I don’t know. I haven’t managed to think of something in the last three seconds.”

  He gave me that you’re-hiding-something-from-me look, but he disappeared back into the main office. When I’d finally cooled off enough to think clearly again, I decided it would be best to do a little reconnaissance on the woman first. I wanted this job over and done with tout de suite. I could congratulate myself all I wanted on bringing in some business, but the Wexfords had gone from being merely annoying to downright repugnant.

  “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch idea,” I called to Dwayne as I headed down the hallway to my car.

  “Did they say something to you?” he called back to me.

  “No. No. Everything’s copacetic. I’ll see you later.”

  And I racewalked the last few yards to the rear alley and my car.

  Chapter 3

  Karen Aldridge worked at a coffee shop in Northeast Portland, in one of the newly gentrified neighborhoods that offered great restaurants, bars, upper-end condos, Whole Foods stores and bicycle shops. It was on the east side of the Willamette, the river that divides Portland in half. I was traveling across the Marquam Bridge when it began to snow in earnest. Now, I like the idea of a white Christmas as much as the next person, but in my mind the snow’s coming down in beautiful, drifting flakes outside my window on Christmas morning, not days earlier in the midst of midday traffic.

  I made it to the shop, Joe’s Jo, the name spelled out in blue neon script inside the front window. I had to drive around awhile to find somewhere to park as the place was popular. I finally snagged a spot just ahead of a woman in a silver Honda and received a stiff middle finger, a snarl of lips and teeth and a blurred vision of short, dyed black hair as she drove by in a spurt of snow and fury.

  “Merry effin’ Christmas to you, too,” I muttered, locking my doors and hurrying through the swiftly falling flakes to the opposite curb. Luckily, the snow was a mere film on the roads so far, as I was not equipped with snow tires, studs, chains or four-wheel drive.

  I entered and was met by a musical jingle-jingle as Joe’s Jo had one of those little bells over its front entry. Garlands of fake holly were wrapped around every conceivable sill and counter edge, and there were red, gold and green ribbons braided through the handles of the mugs on a nearby tray. Several tables were taken, and two women were standing and talking in line in front of me, the gist of their conversation being how much they had to do before Christmas came. I moved in behind them, and a girl wearing a red-and-white-striped Santa hat and green-and-white-striped elf shoes offered up a tray of samples: itty-bitty squares of some kind of layered chocolate bar. I took one and popped it into my mouth—freakin’ wonderful—and was seriously planning to snatch another, but she was too quick for me as she slipped around to greet another customer.

  “What are those?” I asked the woman at the cash register. She was in her fifties and the name embroidered in white thread on her green apron read TRINA. So far, I didn’t see any other employee who could possibly fit Karen’s thirty-ish age range.

  “Covet Bars. Aren’t they good?” She pointed in the general direction of a glass case, and when I saw them in their full form, about the size of a graham cracker, and their ridiculous price, I understood the name. Covet I would. Purchase I would not.

  “I’ll have a small cup of regular coffee,” I said.

  “Room for cream?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I was just beginning to think I’d struck out when the door jangled open again and the newest customer burst in. I immediately turned away as the short, dyed black hair was a giveaway to my bird-flipping parking spot foe. I could feel my back stiffen as I waited for her to get in line behind me. Instead, she walked past me to the short hallway that led to the bathrooms and beyond. As I took my coffee and eyed the elf with the samples, hoping for another swipe, she returned to my line of vision, tying a green apron around her back.

  I didn’t even have to look. Sometimes you just know. But I gave the embroidered name on her apron a glance anyway: KAREN.

  Well, okay. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten off on the wrong foot with someone. I collected my coffee and took a seat at one of the empty, two-person tables. Sipping my drink, I watched her surreptitiously. Maybe she didn’t know I was the one who’d taken her spot. As if she suddenly felt the weight of my stare, she flicked me a look, but it was mostly of disinterest. I relaxed a little and took her in. She was in her mid- to late-twenties and wore a lot of eye makeup to achieve that sullen, goth, runway model look. I had to remind myself that she’d recently been suicidal because her attitude seemed more angry than depressed. But then, I was running off my own limited knowledge of the issue, so what did I know? Nothing Darcy or James had said had prepared me for Karen the person. I’d felt sorry for her, but I could now sense my empathy slipping away. I told myself I wasn’t being fair, but when I looked at her cold, set face, all I could see was someone in a really bad mood.

  But then, she’d been forced to spend all those hours with Darcy, and who knew what that could do to a person’s psyche.

  It was about twelve thirty, but the coffee crowd was still going strong and maybe did all day long. I suspected Karen had just gotten back from a lunch break when she and I tangled over the parking spot. I was debating about how to approach her, thinking maybe a phone call would be the way to go, when she suddenly was standing right next to my table. I had to crane my neck to look her in the eye.

  “You took my parking spot,” she stated flatly.

  So much for thinking she hadn’t known who I was. “Uh . . .”

  “Are you gonna be long? Because I’m in a tow-away zone, and if you’re leaving, I’ll take your spot when you go.”

  “Don’t you have to . . . be behind the counter or something?” I asked, stalling.

  “Are you staying or leaving?” she demanded.

  Every once in a while someone really pisses me off and I go into confrontation mode without even thinking about it. After receiving her jutting middle finger and now her snotty attitude, I was ready to go to the mat. “I’ll give you the parking spot right now, but I want something in return,” I told her, rising from my seat.

  She reared back in alarm. “What?” she asked, blinking.

  “I want to talk to you about Darcy Wexford. What time do you get off?”

  “F-four . . .” she stammered, clearly knocked off her game.

  “I’ll be back at four,” I told her. I thought about stuffing a bill in the little breast pocket of her apron because I liked the image, but it was way too personal, and anyway, I didn’t want to waste a dollar on her.

  I drove home with an eye on the weather. Snow had ceased for the moment, and traffic was moving fine. I had about two hours to kill in between traveling time, so I stopped by the office. I planned to check in on The Binks before I returned to Joe’s Jo. I was starting to feel a little she
epish and downright mean about the way I’d reacted to Karen. I sure as hell wasn’t helping her mental health.

  When I walked in, Dwayne was seated at his desk, and his Glock lay on its newly cleaned surface. I’m not much of a gun person, but I can see that I might have to change my thinking as the various and sundry baddies I run into don’t share my same feelings. I said, as an opening salvo, “Where can we go shoot some mistletoe out of trees?”

  Dwayne looked up at me in surprise, then considered. “I’ve got a friend about two hours from here who’s got a shotgun and a big farm with some oak trees. I could ask him.”

  “Good.”

  “Maybe I should have hung on to the bag I had.”

  “I want to shoot my own,” I said.

  “Thought you didn’t like guns.”

  “Look at me, I’m evolving.”

  Dwayne tried to assess my mood, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll give him a call.”

  An hour later, I left Dwayne on the phone, still trying to reach his buddy. I told him I’d see him the next day, then headed home. My mind was full of thoughts of Darcy, James and Karen Aldridge. As I turned into my drive, I was definitely wishing I’d stayed out of their messy affair, no matter what they paid me. Well, okay, no, I wanted what they were paying me, but it just was such a—

  “Oh, holy God,” I muttered, screeching to a stop before I hit the white van currently backed up to my house. For a moment, I thought my current landlord had finally come through on his promise to unload the previous owner’s junk out of my garage so I could park there. Immediately, I knew that was too good to be true, as I witnessed a middle-aged woman and a guy in a plaid shirt and jeans wrestling a Christmas tree out of the back of his van.

  “What—what—whose is that?” I asked, as soon as I was out of my vehicle and hurriedly following them to the front door.

  The woman threw her arms around me as if I were her long lost daughter. I’d been moving forward pretty fast, and when she suddenly bear-hugged me, I skidded to a stop that nearly toppled us both over. “Roberta?” I guessed.