Alive After Friday (Sandy Reid Mystery Series)

by Rod Hoisington

  He walked up and stood waiting beside the couple. When they left, she glanced over at Martin. “May I help you, sir?”

  He put on his most pleasant look and tried to lock eyes with her, but she looked away. He said, “I’m trying to locate the bookstore. I don’t even find it in the Directory.” She was attractive, large brown eyes.

  “Sorry, believe it or not, no bookstore. There’s a Barnes and Noble across the boulevard. Would you like directions?”

  Of course, he’d like to stand there leaning over close with her. Getting close to her was the entire idea. She explained the directions; he thanked her, turned and then turned back as if having a second thought, “Those earrings look good on you.”

  He turned and walked away. That should do it, he thought. It had brought a smile to her lips. He checked his watch, an hour to kill before she got off work. He had a cup of coffee in the food court on the second level and walked around, being careful not to go within sight of the Concierge desk. At five-thirty he found a seat in the walkway just outside Bloomingdale’s. Gail would come this way to get to her parked car.

  He saw her walking toward him. She was tall and appeared modish, now that she had taken off the company jacket and wore a tan blouse over dark brown pants. She also wore a serious look on her face. He walked toward her, not hurrying, just fast enough to intercept her.

  When she noticed him approaching, unconsciously she tightened her grip on her handbag. He stopped as she came close enough for her to hear, “I decided against the bookstore. It’s my niece’s birthday and I’d been thinking maybe a book—”

  Still in her customer-service mode, she answered, “Well, good luck, sir.”

  He kept talking before she could step around him. “Actually, I’m not certain what to get her.”

  The woman remained politely halted, but didn’t intend to pick up the conversation.

  “She’s thirteen.”

  “You’re asking me for a gift suggestion for a thirteen-year-old girl?” She gave him her can’t you see I’m off duty look.

  He gave her his clueless male look.

  With a touch of chill in her voice, she said, “Get her what every thirteen-year-old girl wants—a thirteen-year-old boy.”

  He laughed aloud without needing to fake it. “Sharp...very sharp,” He nodded his head in approval. He was in, he assumed. Should be all downhill from then on. “You really have that right. She tells me about this boy who is nice and he’s smart. She thinks about him all the time. She thinks he loves her. And it’s true love, not just a crush, she says. She asked me if it’s possible to find your true, lifelong love in the seventh grade. Isn’t that sweet?”

  She appeared interested and had now turned halfway toward him.

  He pushed on, “Now, how am I supposed to answer her?” That question should pull her in closer.

  “What’s happening here?” she asked.

  Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that response.

  “Why did you speak to me in the first place...back two hours ago?”

  This wasn’t good. She might just be wary of a stranger. Or worse, she might be thinking the stranger was investigating her. “The truth?” he asked.

  “Is the truth within you?”

  “The truth is simple. I was attracted to you. I’ll apologize for wanting to talk with you, if you’ll apologize for attracting me.”

  She rolled her eyes while shaking her head slightly.

  He watched her walk away. She walked on through the automatic doors and stood on the curb outside facing the parking area. After a full minute, she swiveled on her heels and came back inside. He was still standing in the same spot. She made a little come-along wave with her hand.

  “Where are you taking me?” he said when he got up to her. That was good, give her the feeling of control.

  She pointed behind him. They were standing outside the Gardens Coffeehouse. “Want to buy me a cup of coffee?”

  “Can I get a muffin in there?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Once seated with their order, he said, “A vanilla latte every day wouldn’t be so bad.” He sensed she was beginning to relax.

  “You wanted to talk with me. So, start talking,” she said it nice and cool with no edge to her voice.

  He didn’t want the discussion to go to why he showed up where she worked, or to anything having to do with his invented niece—because if those elements were premeditated, then they hadn’t met by chance. Yet the conversation had to start somewhere. “You mean who I am or what I do?” he answered.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Martin Bronner and live about twenty miles north.” He wanted her to believe it was an unplanned pickup. An accidental meeting after work with an interesting man. A single, working girl’s day doesn’t get much better than that. He wasn’t selling himself; he was selling the dream. A chance affair with some nice-looking stranger was the dream she must buy into. “But I wouldn’t mind moving down here. Not much is happening up there. Your turn.”

  “I’m Gail and I live in West Palm. You know where I work. What do you do, when you’re not picking up women?”

  He let her catch him looking at her chest. Good. She seemed pleased that her feminine shrewdness had seen through all that nonsense about the bookstore and the niece. She was on to his game and he’d been unmasked. She was wrong, of course. His subterfuge had worked perfectly. As long as she thought he was trying to pick her up, she wouldn’t be thinking he was trying to investigate her.

  The goal wasn’t to seduce her; the goal was to solve the mysteries of Sandy’s kidnapping and extortion. He needed questions answered, needed to get into her dark secrets, if she had any. And he didn’t want to get out of his clothes to do it. Although attracted to her, it was her mind he wanted into not her bed.

  He noticed she had held back stating her last name; she still didn’t entirely trust him. Yet, she was clearly into the scene now and her latte was already half gone.

  “That wasn’t really me,” he said. “I don’t know how I got the nerve to speak to you.”

  “Yes, poor little scaredy-cat you.” She seemed quite pleased with the world just then. She stirred her drink with the straw. “So, what do you do?”

  “Investments. Mostly my own but occasionally I’ll advise someone else.” He noticed her staring at his watch. Not one person in ten thousand would recognize the brand, but he was certain she did. That said a lot about her. It said she had once moved in some high-priced circles in her life. Obviously, she’d come down since the marriage her brother had mentioned. “Right now I’m looking for a condo. What do you like to do, when you’re not concierging?” He hoped she’d talk about money or pick up on the condo subject and start talking about her own situation.

  She spoke briefly, about how she really liked her job; how she liked to spend her time off; other superficial likes and dislikes. She worked it in that she was unattached, but not necessarily looking for a relationship. They talked further with him shifting the conversation away from himself when necessary. He could tell she was feeling comfortable with him.

  She’d just finished her drink. They both knew this was the point where he was expected to make his move. The move he did make surprised her.

  “Well, Gail, this certainly has been enjoyable.” He said unexpectedly pushing away from the table. “I’m glad we got together, if only for a few minutes. I hope I’ll see you again.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Getting to this point had been so gradual she couldn’t have expected such an abrupt ending. Wasn’t everything progressing nicely? None of it fit into her preconceived notions. What was he doing? He hadn’t even asked for her number.

  At this point, he knew that she could offer her number to him. She could suggest they go somewhere else and continue becoming acquainted. Or she could say goodbye. He had given her several acceptable outs to avoid embarrassment.

  If she gave him her number unasked for, she’d be quite surprised it wasn’t a br
ush-off when he did phone her the next day. If she suggested going somewhere else, it meant her thinking had jumped ahead to sex. If she said goodbye, she’d be delighted when he showed up the next day at the Concierge desk. There was nothing for her to say no to; he hadn’t asked anything of her.

  He didn’t move. The decision was hers. He waited.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I wasn’t certain what to do. Was this a brush-off? This guy had tried to pick me up, and there I was sitting in front of him smiling and having a vanilla latte. He had wanted to pick me up and he did—so what’s his problem? I tried to think back to what I might have said, and I hadn’t said much of anything beyond the opening niceties. Certainly nothing that might offend him. Was my hair out of place? Was I smiling at him with lipstick on my teeth or something? I told myself the afternoon was not going to end with him walking away from me in a coffeehouse. No way. So how should I respond to his unexpected, “I hope I’ll see you again?”

  What could I do at that point? I didn’t want him to leave and never see him again. Should I offer him my number? That’s stupid. If he didn’t ask for it, he’s never going to use it. Should I ask for his? Not bad, shows I’m an up-front, assertive woman. Yet, I didn’t want to scare him off by being too bold, as long as there was the remotest possibility that it could lead to something. When he walked up to me in the walkway, something clicked. He was special. This time I wanted more than just a hot romp with a cool guy.

  That line about his love-struck niece—God, how charming was that! I guess he had me at that point. Then he asked what he should get a thirteen-year-old girl. I flipped back with a smartass answer—I’d like to have that line back. Must watch my mouth with him. But he took it the right way and laughed.

  The encounter made me think about my girlfriend Carla. One day she’s walking down the sidewalk. She looks up and Mr. America is jogging after his dog on a leash and coming toward her. She accidentally trips on the leash and falls. He apologizes and kneels to rub her ankle. And a year later they’re married. Carla, of all people, for chrissake. If it could happen to someone like Carla...oh hell, get real.

  Hey, how often does the perfect guy try to pick you up?—start with never and go down from there. He looked as unattainable as the guys you see on magazine covers. Even so, he started talking to me at the Concierge Desk, so he must have thought I was different. I just knew those earrings were dynamite.

  I had to decide how to play him and nothing too cute was going to work with this guy. I could see by how he was dressed that he had money. Having money meant having choices. Money and choices go together like thunder and lightning. He could choose whoever’s out there, and there’s plenty out there around Palm Beach. In Podunk, Arkansas, I’d be standing in the front row, but not in the Palm Beaches.

  Perhaps I’d already been too compliant, maybe I should hold back a little. Not seem so easy. A bit more aloof. Let him enjoy the thrill of the hunt. So I said, “Yes, been fun and I have to get home. Thanks for the coffee. Good luck with your niece’s birthday present.” I’d still have time to make another move before I drove off. “Will you walk me to my car?”

  We walked through the walkways to the rear parking area exit. I was hoping my boss would see him with me. Eat your heart out, Susan. I felt somewhat embarrassed to have him see my old car. I can afford a new one now. Don’t know what I’m waiting for. Got my eye on a new Lexus. At one time I had a Mercedes convertible, a huge house, the works, before my jerk husband died.

  Once we were at my car, I turned to say goodbye and had the definite feeling that he didn’t want me to leave. Women know the look. Anyway, I pretended to be struck with a bright idea. “Hey, you know what? Let’s have a real drink. A martini or something.”

  “Well, certainly. Are you sure you’ve time?” He couldn’t have planned it better.

  “There’s a nice little bistro just across the park there. So close, we could walk it, but why don’t you follow me over there. I can’t make an evening of it though, I must get home...perhaps you have plans?”

  Somewhere, there had to be more than one classy female waiting for this guy’s call. In my head I kept repeating, I want this man in my life...I want this man in my life. I crossed my fingers behind my back and held my breath like a schoolgirl.

  He looked at his watch. I hadn’t been with a man wearing a Patek Philippe since my ex, years ago. Then he beamed. “Excellent. Lead the way.”

  Perfect. Maybe my luck was changing. I move into my fantastic new condo and two weeks later Mr. Amazing hits on me. Them that has, gets. Isn’t that what they say?

  I’ve always loved that bistro across the park. Outdoor bar and lounge on the second floor overlooking a landscaped center court. Unbeatable atmosphere. The last time I was there, about a year ago, my intention was to be picked up. Hey, I was feeling deprived and desperate. You’d assume the prices in that place would filter out men low on the social ladder and make it a great place to be on the prowl. But that night the Jerks and Losers convention must have been in town. Their so-called pick-up lines were so lame they were painful. Most of those clowns couldn’t get laid in a whorehouse.

  Anyway, I wasn’t going to settle for so-so. If I want to be pawed at, I’ll do it myself. Just as I was about ready to go home and hit the high spot on my own, this hunky guy comes up to me. He has the solid shoulders, the arms, the whole package. There was a shadow of stubble on a jaw so strong you could hang clothes on it and his thick, dark hair was just a tad too wild. One look at him and my IQ dropped thirty points.

  Up front, this Brad says he’s married but said that was beside the point, wasn’t it? He goes on, but he could have been reciting the Gettysburg Address for all I cared. My head had started nodding before he began talking. I could feel my body starting to prepare for him, not to mention the tingle. So I went with him, before he could turn his head and find someone better—which he would have. I didn’t regret leaving with him.

  The story has a happy ending—if that’s what you want to know. And I didn’t regret when the next time we got together, he surprised me with Doreen. But I admit saying, “I’ll try anything once,” after a few drinks wasn’t very smart. Anyway, it was all private and no one got hurt. New sensations. But I never developed any of the sensual feelings for her that I had for him; a man like Brad without clothes was much more interesting.

  It went on for a year. My year of wanton abandon. Occasionally, I’d get down on myself for hanging around with him for such a long time, since he was good for only that one thing; the guy was intolerable without an erection. Perhaps later on in my life, I’ll look back and wonder how I could have grown tired of Brad. Actually, I just stopped seeing him a couple weeks ago. I guess I stopped. Brad was somewhat addictive. You see, now I’ve thought of him and I wasn’t going to do that.

  So there I was with Martin. I’m drinking white wine and he’s sipping on an overpriced martini and ordering some fancy cocktail snack for us. I’m no stranger to classy restaurants seeing as I was once married to a gazillionaire. Not that it did me any good after he died. But that’s another story. Anyway, now that I have some money again I can afford nice places, but don’t like to eat out alone.

  Martin didn’t care to talk about himself; self-confident men are like that. Yet, he didn’t seem guarded. I didn’t mind. People who have money know they are targets and tend to keep personal information personal. Did he feel I was targeting him? Of course, at least at that point. I got him talking, so I could run him through a couple of my infallible tests I use to detect a married man. This guy wasn’t married, not the cheating type. I wasn’t much concerned about it at this stage, as I didn’t intend to fall in love with the guy. But I was getting ahead of myself, first I had to get him interested in me.

  After we finished two rounds at the bistro, I still wanted to know more about the guy, but we had about exhausted the superficial small talk. He mentioned there was nothing to do in Hobe Sound, where he lived. “Why should I be interested
in moving to Palm Beach County?” he asked. “Other than beautiful parks and beaches, theaters and museums and a bountiful cultural lifestyle with exciting people and night life, is there anything to do?”

  “You left out the library. We have a nice library,” I said going along with him. Then I remembered, “We had a great SunFest this year, I should include that.”

  “That’s right. I’ve heard of that. Music, art and dancing in the street. Do you enjoy that sort of thing?”

  “A great excuse for walking around in a raucous crowd with a beer in a paper cup and dancing to live music in the street. Yes, I love it. It was fun.” I guessed that would show him I was a lively upbeat sort of gal.

  “Sounds good. When is the next one?”

  “You just missed it...the first week in May. I went the first day. The first day is always the best. I went with a guy I sometimes date.”

  “So you were there on May first.”

  For some reason that date bothered him. I said, “That’s right, we danced until they ran us off at ten o’clock.”

  He glanced at his watch. I didn’t mind. We had our drinks and talked a while. Time to go. He reached across the table and gently squeezed my hand reassuringly. My heart started pumping. Was he going to brush me off again?

  “When may I see you again, Gail?”

  I didn’t know if he had in mind next week or next month. I blurted out, “Tomorrow night?”

  He didn’t hesitate to say yes. We exchanged numbers and I gave him my address. He’d be there at seven, he said. We left and walked over to my car. I said, “Martin, may I make a slight adjustment to our plans? Let’s have a late dinner out tomorrow night. Come up at seven, and we’ll have drinks and hors d’oeuvres. We can always go out later.” He got the message.

  So tomorrow night, how about that!

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The following morning Martin was first into their Park Beach law office. When Sandy came in a few minutes later, her takeout coffee was waiting on her desk. He noticed she was carrying her tablet. “Why are you carrying your tablet around?”