Later that afternoon, Flo dropped me off at Tony’s Car Repair where I was greeted by Tony who shook his head in dismay. “When’s the last time you put brake fluid in that car?”
I looked at him. “Brake fluid?”
“Figured as much. No brake fluid.”
“No kidding. I didn’t know I needed brake fluid. No one ever told me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Without it lady, your brakes don’t work. You’re supposed to have it checked regularly. And you never had your brake fluid lines checked either. How old’s your car? Thirteen years? This desert heat’s a killer on them.” He looked at me and again shook his head. “You could have been killed. ”
“Tony,” I said, “I almost was.”
Driving home I mulled over what Tony had said. I tried to remember the last time I’d taken the car in for a check up. It was a chore I’d always hated and had left to my husband—which always drove him up the wall. But after last night’s accident I vowed to take better care of such things.
Unless…A small voice in the back of my mind whispered dangerously. Unless it wasn’t an accident at all.
As much as I tried I couldn’t block out the question nagging at me. What if it wasn’t my fault the brakes failed? What if someone had tampered with them? What if that someone was trying to kill me.
A ridiculous thought.
Or was it?
Chapter 23
He’d been too excited to sleep. Afraid he’d miss the early morning newscast. He turned up the sound, hoping he hadn’t already missed it. He flipped through the channels. Nothing. But then with so much going on in the world, a car accident wouldn’t be top priority.
But what if she wasn’t killed? He went over each step again, wondering if he’d slipped up. What if it was the wrong car? Impossible. He knew her car.
He felt restless. He walked over to his desk and fired up the laptop. he would go back to checking Sondra’s emails. He’d already found what he was looking for on the computer, Sondra’s manuscript, My Lives.
A simple little click and it was gone. And of course he’d spent hours checking through the emails to see if Sondra had sent it to anyone. But he had to double and triple check.
He was satisfied that he’d covered all his bases.
He turned up the sound on the TV and wiped the sweat off his neck. Why wasn’t there news about the car accident? Calm down, he told himself, have patience. Yes, patience was a virtue.
Patience was one thing he had plenty of.
Chapter 24
“Class we have a lot to accomplish today,” Dr Linda announced firmly, signaling that there’d be no time for the usual chitchat, backbiting and gossip. “First, we need to decide on a cover design for our book. And, of course, a catchy title. I’d also like to include a bio and picture of each of you. Oh and please keep the bios short.”
“By that, she means no description of all your ailments,” Danny said.
“Look who’s talking,” Yettah sniffed.
“By the way,” Dr. Linda said, “I hope you brought in hard copies of your stories today. We need to get going on this project if we want to get it published in time for our party. Oh, and I almost forgot, send me an email with your stories as an attachment. It’ll make it easier to edit.”
“I don’t know how to do that attachment stuff,” Yettah whined.
“By the way, has anyone heard when Sondra’s coming back?” Dr. Linda asked. “I thought it might be nice to include her in our book.”
“Yeah, especially her picture,” Danny said. “Preferably wearing a bikini.”
Dr. Linda either didn’t hear him or, more likely, pretended not to. The rest of the session was taken up with arguments over what to put on the cover. Danny felt it should be a man and a woman in a suggestive pose. “After all, sex sells.”
“So does chocolate,” I added. Frank looked over at me and smiled. I gave him an appreciative smile back. At least someone got my humor.
“Okay, then a sexy woman licking a chocolate bar,” Danny suggested not to be outdone.
“Let’s not forget that we’re trying to raise money for our senior center with this book,” Dr. Linda chided.
“So what?” Danny retorted, “You think seniors don’t like sex? Let me tell you I know more seniors who are humping…”
“We get the point, Danny,” Dr. Linda interrupted. “By the way, Izzy, I noticed you haven’t submitted a story.”
“I know,” I shrugged. “I was thinking about trying my hand at writing a novel.”
“In the meantime, maybe you could write a short story so we could put it in our book.”
“But I don’t get it,” I said. “You just said you’re going to publish what Sondra read in class. And that was only a short excerpt. So why can’t you publish the beginning of a story that I wrote?
“That’s true. However Sondra did give me a copy of her completed 223 page autobiography. I haven’t had a chance to read the entire thing yet, but when I do I’m sure I’ll find a few chapters that would read like a short stories and be appropriate for our book.”
Of course, perfect Sondra with her perfect story. Perfect figure, perfect hair, perfect writer…
“So, Izzy, I suggest you get busy and write a smashingly good short story. Later you can think about writing a novel.”
As the discussions of the details of the book degenerated into heated arguments, Dr. Linda announced that she would make all the final decisions and dismissed the group.
I got in my car and, decided I would take Dr. Linda’s advice and finish a short story. Right after I made a pit stop at the FroYoToGo Shop.
I settled into a chair outside the FroYoToGo Shop and was about to dive into my dish of frozen chocolate yogurt smothered in full-fat chocolate syrup, when my cell rang.
“Izzy, I’m so glad I got hold of you. How have you been?”
Dispense with the niceties, Lorna, my yogurt’s about to melt. “Fine. What gives?”
“I was walking Trevor past Sondra’s condo this morning and I remembered something else. I thought it might be important and thought I should tell you about it.”
“I’m all ears,” I said, relieved that she wasn’t calling to ask me to take Sherlock. Perhaps she’d forgotten about it—one could only hope.
“I don’t know if it’s important,” she continued. “But do you remember my telling you that I’d overheard Sondra arguing with some man outside her condo?”
“I remember.” Get to the point. My yogurt’s on the verge of a complete meltdown.
“Well, I remembered he was yelling something about sex.”
“Sex?” I put down my spoon. Nothing like sex to pique one’s interest. “What’d he say about sex?”
“That’s all I could make out. Just that word. He said it a few times. And he sounded really angry.”
So what else is new. “Everybody argues about sex. Either he wants it and she doesn’t. Or she wants it and he doesn’t.”
I glanced sadly at my melting yogurt. I knew I should have stayed inside in the air conditioning but I just couldn’t take all those screaming kids. Their mothers brought them out for yogurt in desperation for something to do in the summer but it ruined the experience for the rest of us. “Do you remember anything else he said?” I asked.
“Mmn. I do remember he said something about her having changed. But that’s about it. If I remember anything else, I’ll call you back. By the way, have you heard anything more about when Sondra will be back?”
“Unfortunately not,” I answered. “Just the one email to the writing group saying she plans to come back to the group at some point.”
“Oh. That’s the other reason I called,” Lorna said.
Uh oh, here it comes.
“I’m finding it impossible to handle the two of them.” The usually cool Lorna sounded surprisingly frazzled. “You really have to take Sherlock off my hands.” She was practically begging. “You said yourself that Sondra would be coming back soon so it’d
probably be just for a short time.”
Lorna had me cornered but I wasn’t about to surrender. “But don’t you think a change of environment would upset him?”
“Honestly, I don’t care. Since Sherlock’s been here, Trevor’s personality has undergone a major change.”
“Really?” Sounded like good news to me.
“And it isn’t fair to Sherlock to be locked away in a room by himself. Izzy, you really have to come and take him. You said you would.”
I sighed. Lorna certainly put a lie to the phrase ‘dumb blonde,’ though I’d never been one to buy into that theory anyway. On the contrary, I figured they knew how to use it to their advantage. “Okay, how about tomorrow. Or the day after. Or maybe next week would be…”
“Tomorrow,” Lorna said.
I hung up, angry with myself that I hadn’t simply refused to take the animal. Up until now I had managed to successfully ignore all of those articles exhorting seniors to get a pet for their mental and physical health. What a crock. Give me a hot bath, a hot fudge sundae or a hot guy in his forties––any one of which would improve my mental and physical health more than some furry critter. I just didn’t see how cleaning up some four-legged creature’s poop was going to add years to my life.
I finished off the yogurt and threw the empty cup in the garbage bin, all the while berating myself for ordering the full fat chocolate topping. And for agreeing to take Sherlock.
As I backed my car out of my parking space, one of those ubiquitous Palm Springs golf carts appeared out of nowhere. I managed to slam on my brakes in time to avoid hitting it. After cussing the driver out under my breath, I silently thanked Tony the mechanic for doing such a good job on my brakes. Which reminded me again of that dreadful, trip home from Norma Corwin’s divorce shower and how I’d narrowly escaped death.
My brakes going out. The man on the hiking trail. The screams. Sondra’s disappearance. All these recent ‘unrelated’ events had started when Sondra came to class. How likely was it that they were all simple coincidences? Sondra mentioned at dinner that she had just come from her lawyer’s office and I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d gone to see him about.
I was starting to feel like I was in one of those film noir movies that I’m so addicted to. Sondra Sockerman, Femme fatale. Merv, two-timing lover. Martinelli, handsome cop. Izzy Greene––innocent bystander–– caught up in a web of danger, unable to extricate herself.
On the other hand, maybe it was all my overactive imagination.
I realized what I had to do. I had to get hold of Sondra Sockerman’s autobiography.
I knew Dr. Linda had it in her possession, but she would never let me read it without getting Sondra’s permission. Since that seemed unlikely, I had to figure out another way to get hold of it.
I opened the door to my condo and was met by the usual quiet. Okay, maybe it would be nice to be greeted by some animal, even a four-legged one, at the end of a hard day. Especially if I could train him to cook dinner.
Chapter 25
“Flo, did you feel that?” Flo and I were on a brisk walk to Starbucks.
“Feel what?”
“That breeze. I thought I felt a breeze.”
“It was your imagination.”
She was right, the temperature probably wouldn’t drop below 110 degrees for at least another couple months. Until then a breeze was as unlikely as a snow storm.
“Flo, I have a favor to ask of you. But first you have to promise me that you won’t just automatically say, ‘no.’”
“What are you talking about?”
“Promise me and I’ll tell you.”
Flo stopped and looked at me. I was betting on her curiosity outweighing her better judgment. “Okay,” she said. “I promise.”
“I need to steal something from Dr. Linda and I need your help doing it. Are you with me? Answer yes or no.”
“Are you nuts?”
“That’s not yes or no…”
“Oh, I get it,” Flo nodded. “You’re trying to get the attention of that Officer Martinelli. But if that’s what you want, there are easier ways. You could always try running nude down Palm Canyon Drive.” She paused and looked me up, down, then back up. “On the other hand, maybe you shouldn’t.”
“I’m serious, Flo. Ever since Sondra appeared on the scene, weird things have been happening to me. Like that leak in my brake line that almost got me killed.”
“But I thought the mechanic said that was because you never had your brake line checked.”
“Yeah, but I called him again this morning and he agreed there was the possibility it could have been cut.”
“A possibility. Not a probability. Besides who would want to cut your brake line?”
“That’s the $164,000 question.
“Sixty-four thousand.”
“With inflation, $164,000. Look I’ve been thinking about what’s been going on and I just don’t have enough information. I think my only option is to get hold of Sondra’s autobiography which Dr. Linda has at her condo.”
“And you want me to help you steal it? You’re nuts if you think I’m going to spend the rest of my life in prison because of one of your cockamamie ideas.”
“Not steal. ‘Borrow.’ Just for a few days.” I stopped walking and looked at Flo. “Please. Go along with me just this once and I swear it’ll be the last time I ask you for a favor.”
“If only I could believe that.”
“Flo, this could be a life and death matter.”
Flo let out a huge sigh. “All right, what’s the plan?”
Chapter 26
I rang Dr. Linda’s doorbell.
“Now remember,” I whispered to Flo. “Keep Dr. Linda occupied by telling her about the book you’re writing. Go into some whole, long discussion about how you’d like her to edit it. Ask how much she’ll charge, whether to put it online or go for a real publisher, etcetera, etcetera. Keep the conversation flowing until I say it’s time to leave.”
“Right. So…What’s this book supposed to be about that I’m supposed to be writing?”
“Just wing it. You’re smart.” I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to do some ego stroking. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. But remember––your job is to keep her attention focused on you.”
“Okay. But if we get arrested, I’m warning you, Iz, I’ll rat you out in a second.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“So you’re the friend Izzy told me about.” Dr. Linda shook Flo’s hand, smiling warmly at her. “She said you’re writing a novel and you’d be interested in having me edit it?”
There was pregnant silence. Dr. Linda and I both looked at Flo.
“Yes, Flo,” I prodded. “You must tell Dr. Linda about your book.”
“Yes…right. My book,” Flo said, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. “My book. I…will…tell you…about my book.”
“Don’t be shy.” Dr. Linda gave Flo a smile of encouragement.
I had a momentary twinge of guilt for taking advantage of Dr. Linda this way–– but only for a moment. After all it was for a good cause––my survival.
“Why don’t you have a seat and tell me all about your book over a slice of German chocolate cake. I made it just this morning,” Dr. Linda took Flo’s arm and led her into the living room.
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, following behind, my mission completely forgotten. “I’d love some German chocolate cake.”
Flo suddenly sprang back to life. “But since Izzy’s on a very strict diet, I’m afraid she can’t have any. You can give me her piece.”
I glared at the back of her head.
Flo and I took our seats on the couch.
“What a charming place,” Flo said as Dr. Linda walked back into the living room carrying two plates with the most scrumptious looking slices of cake I’d seen outside of Bon Appetit magazine.
Dr. Linda handed Flo one of the dessert plates, then walked over and pla
ced the other plate on a small table next to an arm chair, which she then settled into. “I’m sorry you can’t have cake, Izzy, but I’d hate to sabotage your diet.”
Yeah, right.
“Now, Flo, tell me what your book is about.”
Flo stared at her cake. “It’s about…it’s about desire. It’s about a rich, deliciously sensual piece of…,” she paused to take a bite of cake, “Deliciousness. About a man, of course.” She took another bite, then slowly licked her lips. “Oh and I almost forgot. It’s also a mystery. A sexy mystery. A very sexy mystery.” She paused for another bite. “Oh my, but this is good!.”
Dr. Linda nodded, “Go on, continue with your story.”
I figured it was now or never. I dragged my hungry eyes away from Flo’s plate and stood up, quietly excusing myself to go to the bathroom. Then I headed down the hall. The first room I came to was Dr. Linda’s bedroom. An oasis of calm, it had a pale blue silk spread, an upholstered arm chair in lime green with pink hydrangeas and an antique white dresser. The nightstand held a few hardback books, reading glasses and small crystal carafe of water.
The next room was clearly Dr. Linda’s office. I figured that was the most likely place to find Sondra’s manuscript. A handsome antique mahogany desk held her laptop, and a pile of papers––the stories from our writing group, none of which were Sondra Sockerman’s.
I quietly opened each drawer and searched its contents. No luck. Flo was probably right when she said my plan was ‘ridiculous.’
There was one more drawer to go.
And bingo!
My Lives by Sondra Sockerman
I leafed through the manuscript, then took a comparably sized stack of blank computer paper from my bag. I put the My Lives title page on top of the blank stack and placed it back in the drawer as a ‘dummy’ copy. Then I stuffed Sondra’s manuscript into my bag and closed the desk drawer. I paused to catch my breath and casually exited the room.
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