by J. C. Gatlin
The phone rang.
It rang again, then a recorded voice stated, “Sorry. That number has been blocked.”
Frustrated, she hung up the phone. If Ross was reaching out to her, she thought, maybe she could run down to his job at the garage. Maybe he wanted her to. Again, she didn’t want to look desperate, and decided to wait until Friday. She could play his game.
Kim glanced around the room, considering for a moment calling Mallory, then remembered her friend's dinner engagement with Addison and that shrink.
6
Element of Surprise
Tuesday, January 11, 2000
10:32 AM
With no classes till early afternoon, Kim slept late the next morning. She was finally woken when Mallory, standing on her front porch, rang the doorbell. Calming Zeus, she opened the door and let her neighbor inside.
“You promised me lunch,” Mallory said, pushing past Kim and entering the living room.
“I don't think so,” Kim closed and tied her robe. The poetry book still sat on the old recliner next to the scrapbook. The invitation to Greico's lay beside the phone.
“Yes, you did.” Mallory twirled around, facing her. Zeus whined, vying for her attention, and she pet him on top his head. She glanced at Kim. “You know, for skipping out on Addison's birthday celebration last night.”
Kim shut the front door. “You mean at Greico's Italian Restaurant.”
“Of course. He turned fifty.” Mallory laughed, flipping her red hair. Zeus cocked his head, watching her. “Now get dressed. Gunz is treating us.”
“The baseball player?” Kim looked confused. “He's still in town?”
“For a whole week.” Mallory explained as if the answer was obvious. She turned and made her way up the spiral staircase to the bedroom loft. Zeus followed her. “His team is playing in some kind of game for sick children. I think they have cancer or something.”
“But what about Addison?” Kim ran upstairs after her.
“Oh, he's fine. He doesn't have any kids.”
“Your date,” Kim clarified. “How was your date?”
“Fine. I mean, the movie was good.” Mallory opened the closet doors and ran a hand along the line of clothes. She scrutinized all the navy and tan skirts, blouses and slacks crammed into the four-by-two cubby the landlord jokingly referred to as a closet. “Maybe not as good as the one with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere... Have you seen the one where she runs out of her own wedding wearing that white gown and riding a horse?”
“Wait.” Kim started, but hesitated. She watched Mallory select a blouse and flip it off the hanger.
Shaking her head, Kim's mind raced, focused on the Pablo Neruda poetry book and the invitation to Greico's Italian Restaurant. For a moment, she considered telling Mallory about them. Instead, she reached for the blouse in Mallory's hands, and said simply, “Okay, but I have classes this afternoon.”
Forty-five minutes later, the girls parked down town, a block away from a corner diner called The Fork and Spoon. Mallory hadn't stopped talking about the baseball player since leaving the townhome community. She prattled on about his accomplish-ments, his RBI average, his wins, his all-star selection.
“And did I tell you he has nineteen inch arms?” Mallory placed a dime in the parking meter. “How do I know, you ask. Because I measured them.”
Finally, as she led Kim down the block toward the diner, she mentioned Dr. Alec Whitman.
“Now, don't be mad.” Mallory said. She placed a hand on Kim's shoulder, as if to calm her. “I told you the doctor wanted to apologize personally for standing you up.”
“You didn't.” Kim hesitated before stepping through the swinging door. She realized she had just been ambushed. “And I told you, he's not a doctor.”
When they passed the front counter, Mallory shrieked in surprise and dropped her purse. Kim abruptly stepped back, then turned her head toward the booth in the back. Addison Gaynor was standing there, holding up his arm and motioning to his watch.
“Addison,” Kim said. She picked up Mallory's purse from the floor.
“Time is of the essence, ladies.” He stepped aside allowing Kim to slip into the booth. Mallory remained standing, looking at Addison, then back at the diner entrance, then at Addison again.
“Wha---” Mallory stammered. She could barely speak. “Wha--”
“What am I doing here?” he asked for her. “Mallory, my dear, what's gotten into you? You can barely speak.”
Kim glanced at him then back at Mallory, who was turning pale.
“Are you ill?” he continued. “You don't look well.”
Mallory looked at the front door then toward the street. Gunz would be here any second. She looked back at Addison. “What?”
Fed up, Kim pushed Mallory aside and extended a hand to Addison. “It's good to see you, Addison. Happy fiftieth birthday.”
When the waitress arrived, Kim ordered two salads with diet sodas as Addison shifted his bifocals to the edge of his nose and studied the menu. He craned his neck and squinted his eyes before finally deciding on a fish taco, then changed his mind and splurged on a hamburger with cheese and bacon. Cholesterol be damned. He laughed as he set his laptop computer on the table and unfolded it open. It hummed as it booted up, and he scratched the graying beard on his chin as he waited.
Mallory watched this, then took a deep breath, as if to collect her composure again.
“So, Pudd'n Toes, tell me. Just what are you doing here? Now? Just what are you doing here now?” Mallory's eyes were glued to the windows, watching the street.
Addison's eyes lifted from his laptop. “Why I'm having lunch, of course. And I almost didn't make it. It seems I misplaced my wallet this morning, but fortunately, some chap found it and deposited it in the building's lost and found.”
“What are you doing here though?” Mallory asked again, urgency rising in her voice. In any second, Gunz would walk through that door and be at this table.
“Dr. Whitman said that he planned to meet you girls for lunch,” he explained.
Kim shook her head, then shot Mallory one of her patented killer glares. Addison continued.
“Regrettably however he received, yet again, an urgent phone call from a troubled patient and asked that I inform you that he would be unable to accompany us.” Addison grinned. Did he know what Mallory was up to?
The thought flashed through Kim's head, and she clarified, “Another troubled patient.”
“Fortunately for us all, I encountered the good doctor,” he offered. “Our agencies occupy and operate in the same building, you see.”
“He could have called,” Mallory said.
“He left a message on your answering machine.” His eyes returned to the laptop screen as his voice lowered to a soft mutter. He seemed to be done with the conversation. “I'm sure he assumed you…”
Mallory cut him off. “Then you could have called.”
“You don't have a mobile phone.” He sounded exasperated. The food arrived, and he spread out a napkin and placed it in his lap. “So it wouldn't have done any good for me to leave you a message as well, would it?”
Mallory muttered incoherently, turning to Kim then back to Addison then back to Kim. Addison continued.
“Dr. Whitman's patient was apparently upset about the Congressman's murder.” His eyes enlarged and focused on Mallory, but she clearly wasn't listening. He cleared his throat, then turned to Kim. “Have you read the papers? The whole town is in an uproar.”
“I know, it was just horrible,” Kim said. She took a nervous bite of salad. “Just horrible.”
“It’s scandalous, is what it is. Just scandalous.” Addison leaned across the table, as if to speak privately to Kim. “He was murdered, just like his brother twenty-five years ago.”
“What?” Kim put down her fork.
“The Congressman's brother was murdered twenty-five years ago,” Addison explained. “He was a senior in high school and on a date with a freshman girl.
She disappeared, but the boy was found dead.”
“Oh, Pudd’n Toes, that’s an urban legend.” Mallory sat back. “Like the Hook Man or the Skunk Ape.”
“I thought that high school boy was attacked by a gator.” Kim’s voice held a rasp of excitement. Shifting in the booth, she folded her arms across her chest and turned her head, returning her gaze out the window. Her mouth fell open when she saw him, Antonio 'The Gunz’ Gonzales, standing on the other side of the street, waiting to cross. She kicked Mallory's shin under the table, getting her attention.
Pointing out the window, she mouthed “The Gunz” Mallory crinkled her nose, staring puzzled at her. Then her red head turned to the window and she choked on her salad.
“Pudd'n Toes,” she said, looking up at Addison. “Let's go somewhere else to eat.”
Addison forced an uncomfortably chuckle from his throat that signaled he neither appreciated nor agreed with her suggestion. “Mal, dear, the food just arrived. What's the matter with you?”
“We should really go somewhere healthier to eat.” Urgency rose in Mallory's voice. “The food here is really greasy and considering your age now and your high cholesterol...”
He ignored her. Kim interrupted.
“How are the murders connected? Do they know who did it?” she asked him, purposely delaying any chance for a clean getaway. Kim watched Mallory squirm, then noticed the traffic light had changed outside the window. Gunz was crossing the street.
“Addison,” Mallory said quickly. Smoke was practically coming out of her ears as her brain scrambled to find a solution. “Is that your car alarm?”
Addison paused, concentrating. “I don't hear anything. Surely you must be mistaken. I parked over a block away.”
“Your car alarm is very distinctive. I'm positive I hear it. What do you think, Kim?” Mallory continued.
Kim was focused on the window. Gunz had crossed the street and was approaching the diner. Mallory slammed her drink on the table, splashing diet soda and getting Kim's attention. “Kimberly Bradford, do you hear Addison's car alarm?”
Kim wiped diet soda from her sleeve. “The alarm?” she said quietly at first, then suddenly understood. “Yes! Yes, I think I do hear your car alarm. It's very distinctive!”
Addison leapt up from the table.
“Not my BMW.” His voice echoed through the diner and the people in the booths across from them stopped talking and looked up.
Mallory leaned forward. “Go check on it, right now before some teenage hoodlums run off with your hubcaps!”
Addison nodded at her then sprinted toward the entrance, leaving his laptop on the table. As he made his way out, he passed Gunz Gonzales and ran into the street. Cars honked as he ran down the block.
A moment later, Gunz entered the diner and found Kim and Mallory sitting at a booth.
“Chica,” he said, taking Mallory's hand and kissing it. “Pleasure to see me again.”
“Yes,” Mallory said, pulling her hand away. “It's always a pleasure to see me too.”
“Sorry so late.” He leaned toward her for a kiss. “Press for the charity exhibition game went long this morning.”
Mallory pointed a finger at him. “Well you're a naughty, naughty boy, mister. And I'm afraid you've missed lunch. Kim and I were just leaving.”
Mallory grabbed her purse and shifted out the booth. She looked at Kim, waiting for her to follow. Gunz looked at Kim, then down at her untouched salad. Kim smiled apologetically, then scooted out the booth and stood next to Mallory.
“When we see again?” he asked as Mallory threw a five-dollar bill down on the table and bolted toward the door.
“Swing by my place tonight,” she said, turning back to him and grinning devilishly. “Naughty, naughty boy. You're gonna get a spanky!”
Gunz grinned and his ears turned red. He placed his hands in his pockets, then looked back at the table. The fiver had landed on the laptop. He started to call after the girls, but they were gone. A waitress moved to the table, picking up the five-dollar bill and stuffed it into the money pouch around her waist. Then she noticed the computer.
“That yours?” she asked.
Gunz shook his head and stepped away, moving toward the men's room.
As the waitress picked up the plates of uneaten salad and nearly full glasses of diet soda, Addison scrambled back into the diner. He ran to the table and grabbed his laptop.
“What are you doing?” he said to the waitress with an accusatory tone. The woman paused, holding the dishes, and glared at him.
“I'm campaigning for re-election. What do you think I'm doing?”
Addison ignored the sarcasm. “What happened to the ladies who were accompanying this booth?”
“Ladies? That's a laugh.” The waitress chuckled and turned her back, walking into the kitchen.
Closing his laptop, Addison looked around the coffee shop. The girls were gone. Perplexed, he rubbed his bearded chin.
His pocket vibrated, startling him, and he removed a cellular phone from his jacket. Flipping it open, he brought it to his left ear. It was Dr. Whitman on the other end
“You just missed the girls,” Addison said, then paused as he listened.
“Unfortunately I'm at a loss,” he continued. “They just abruptly departed. But I informed Kimberly of your regrets and that you were detained once again by an unstable patient.”
He glanced toward the front entry. The lug of a baseball player who had been pursuing Mallory was exiting the diner. Addison paused a moment, watching him, then turned his attention back to the phone.
“No, Alec. I don't know if Mallory has said anything to Kimberly yet... but I'm most certain she will.”
7
A Close Call
“That was close.” Mallory laughed, pushing Kim out the diner doors and onto the sidewalk. They crossed the intersection against the light and headed back to Mallory's parked Miata. Making it clear that she was not pleased, Kim walked several steps ahead. She crossed her arms, swinging her purse. Mallory caught up to her, telling her to slow down.
Kim picked up her pace. “I can't believe you tried to set me up with that old psychologist again. You just don't know when to quit, do you?”
“He’s a psychiatrist, and…” Mallory grabbed her arm to slow her down. “Stop being so melodramatic.”
“Melodramatic?” Kim whipped around to confront her friend face to face. “Not only did you ambush me, but this is the second time he's stood me up - second time in a row!”
“He just got detained with another crazy patient, that's all.” Mallory punctuated that with a light, throaty chuckle. “The whole town is freaked out over the Congressman's murder so it's understandable.”
“You're changing the subject.” Kim turned and stepped off the sidewalk into the street. She headed toward the car parallel parked in front of a meter. Mallory followed her into the oncoming traffic.
“Would you just wait?” She grabbed Kim’s arm again. Mallory stopped her in the middle of the street. A car honked and swerved around them. Oblivious, Kim pointed a finger at her and leaned forward.
“You sandbagged me with another blind date. You know I’m involved.”
“Ross went M.I.A. on you, what, six weeks ago? He’s gone.” Another car blared its horn. Mallory waved it away. “I just wanted to get your mind off it. Besides, Dr. Whitman has lined up a very exciting date.”
“You just don't give up, do you?”
“Listen to me, Kim. He's really been putting a lot of pressure on me lately. He's talked about you for ages and he's been asking me to set you two up for a long time. Ever since...”
Breaks squeaked on a truck as it swerved to miss them. Kim ignored it. “Ever since what, Mallory? Since Ross dumped me?”
“No - since Ross disappeared.” Mallory paused. Her eyes softened and a faint smile crossed her lips. “Kim, he's not coming back.”
Kim was about to protest. It was a knee-jerk reaction to tell Mallory how wrong she
was. For a moment, Kim considered explaining about the mysterious poems and the invitation for dinner on Friday night. She wanted to tell Mallory about the phone calls. All those cryptic messages and notes – it had to be from Ross. It just had to be. They were meant for each other.
Instead Kim looked down at her feet and sighed. “I'm just not in the mood to be sweet and sociable. You know what I mean? I'm angry. And I want to hit something. I want to rip something apart and stomp on it and crush it and...”
Another car honked and the driver screamed obscenities as he whizzed past. The girls were unfazed standing in the center of the road.
“Exactly my point.” Mallory snapped her fingers, seemingly very pleased with herself. “That's why this handsome, debonair doctor suggested a double date at a mock war camp.”
“A what?”
“A mock war camp,” Mallory repeated. “Instead of miniature golf or going to a movie, we'd play weekend warrior.”
Kim hesitated, watching her a moment, then followed. “What kind of date is that?”
“The kind that’ll get you over Ross!” Mallory headed toward her Miata parked at the curb.
Unlocking the car door, she paused and leaned against the hood. She turned back toward Kim.
“It’s the kind of date where you can be tank girl and rip men apart and blow them away and stomp on them... only with paint pellets.” Mallory’s eyes enlarged and she took a breath, as if waiting for Kim to protest. When she didn't, Mallory continued. “He's a head shrink, Kim. He knows about these kind of things.”
Kim opened the passenger side door. “I just don't think...”
“Listen to me. What better way to release all this pent up emotion than by shooting macho guys in camouflage with red paint balls?” Mallory insisted. “It's what you need right now. I think it would really do you a lot of good.”
Kim watched Mallory a moment, then slipped into the car. “Is this a date?”
“It's anything you want it to be.”
Kim hesitated, biting her lower lip, then continued walking again. “No,” she said. “Ross is coming back to me. He left me a...”