by Glenn Rogers
“But she told you that it was up to you.”
“Yeah.”
“And you're not sure what you want to do.”
“Right.”
“They're your mom's family. That means they’re your family. They're very nice people.”
“Do you know why my mom left?”
I nodded. “It's not that difficult. Greg was engaged to your aunt June but had a relationship with your mom. When your mom discovered she was pregnant with the baby of her sister's fiancée, she felt she had betrayed her sister. She was ashamed. She didn't want Greg to know. She didn't want to be responsible for breaking up Greg and June.”
Eric nodded again. The look in his eyes was far away. “She did the honorable thing,” he said. “But only after she had done the dishonorable thing.”
His eyes met mine again.
“That's what she said. That she had done a dishonorable thing and had to go.”
There was nothing for me to say, so I didn't say anything. I drank some more of my Coke. Eric was lost in thought.
“She wrote a letter to Aunt June.”
“I know,” I said. “Your aunt brought the letter to my office.”
Eric shook his head. “Another letter. A letter that explains everything. She gave it to me and said if I decided to contact my family, I should give it to Aunt June.”
“Have you read it?”
“No. It's sealed and addressed to June Morrison. But Mom told me what it said.”
“I think your aunt would like to read it.”
“Maybe. What if she read it and couldn't forgive Mom for what she did? What if it broke her heart?”
Now it was my turn to take a deep breath. “Over the last couple weeks I've gotten to know her pretty well. June Morrison is a strong woman. She's also kind and loving. And I suspect that she and your mom were a lot alike, like most identical twins.”
“Mom said her father was a strong man.”
“A very strong man,” I said. “And the strength that allowed your mother to strike out on her own, to have and raise you on her own, to build a nice life for you and her, I suspect she got from her father. You probably inherited a little of it yourself.”
He drank the last of his Coke and said, “You think I should go meet them, don't you?”
“And give your mom's letter to your aunt,” I said. “The two of them have an issue to resolve. Your mom needs to say she's sorry and June needs to forgive her.”
“You think she will forgive her?”
I nodded. “I do.”
He took another deep breath and then said, “Okay. But I'm just going to meet them. I'm not making any life changing decisions here.”
“That's exactly what I would do if I were you,” I said.
“I don't like flying,” he said. “I'd rather drive.”
“I drove here,” I said. “We can drive back in the morning.”
“I'll make some calls tonight, get one of my guys to cover my jobs for a few days. What time do you want to leave?”
“Seven?” I asked.
“Seven's good. You want to swing by here?” Eric asked.
“See you at seven.”
Chapter 62
I was up early and did some sit-ups and pushups in my room. I got ready and found a Denny's for breakfast. I parked in front of Eric's house at six fifty-nine. He came out at seven and we were on our way. I led in my Jeep; he followed in his pickup.
We stopped a couple of times for restroom breaks and something to drink. The southwestern sky was clear. The air was clean and fresh.
We arrived at my office a few minutes before three. I wanted to stop by my office first so Eric would have a few minutes to prepare himself for what would surely be an emotionally powerful situation.
Wilson was once again enthusiastic in his greeting. He greeted Eric as well. Eric knelt and gave him a good scratch behind the ears. Mildred offered Eric coffee or tea. He thanked her, but declined. We went into my office. I sat behind my desk; Eric sat in one of my guest chairs.
“Anything you want to talk about before we head over to Lindell Industries?” I asked.
“Nope. I'm good.”
“Okay. Let me call June. Make sure she's in.”
“Hi, Jake,” she said. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Of course. I was just getting ready to call you.”
“What about?”
“Dad and I had a long conversation. He’s going to do an interview with Newsweek about the cover-ups. Hold nothing back. Tell everything. Then he’s going to set up a trust fund to compensate the people who were hurt by our equipment. The victims or their families will be compensated for their loss.”
“That’s great, June. I’m really glad to hear that. Your father’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is. So what did you call me about?”
“You got time to sit and talk for a while?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, about thirty minutes?” I asked.
“See you then.”
As we drove, I asked Eric, “Ever been to L.A. before?”
“Nope.”
“While you’re here, you ought to stay a few days and look around. Do the tourist thing.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Depends on how this meeting goes.”
“Sure,” I said. “It'll go okay. They're nice people, like your mom was. They're your mom's family, your family.”
He was nervous. I understood. I could try to distract him by engaging in light conversation, or I could let him sit quietly and think. I decided on quiet.
We got to Lindell Industries a little before four. Eric looked up at the massive building as I pulled into the underground parking area.
“They own this?”
“This one and six others in and around L.A.”
We rode the express elevator up to the top floor and stepped out into the reception area between the two office suites. I led the way into June's outer office where Ingrid sat, looking stunning, as she always did.
She smiled, picked up the phone and spoke. “You can go in,” she said.
I returned her smile. “Thanks.” As we passed, I noticed that she gave Eric a quick once over and appeared to approve.
I stepped through the door and then stepped aside so Eric could enter. As he did he caught his breath and said, “Mom.”
June's face went white. Her hand went to her chest and she said, “Greg.”
I said, “Eric, this is your Aunt June. June, this is your nephew, Eric.”
June got up from her desk and crossed the room, her eyes locked onto Eric's. Eric stood where he was, just inside the office door. When June had crossed the distance, she stood a couple of feet from Eric and studied his face. Tears filled her eyes. She stepped to him embraced him. Eric hugged her back. He was crying, too. They stood that way for a long time.
When June stepped back, she looked at me, nodded and said, “I understand now.”
She cried a little more and then hugged me and said, “Thank you.”
June led Eric to the sitting area and I said, “I'll wait outside.”
June acknowledge with a nod and I stepped out and closed the door behind me. I sat in the reception area. Ingrid brought some tea for both of us and sat opposite me, her short skirt revealing quite a bit of her very nicely shaped legs. She asked me about being a private investigator and for the next thirty minutes I regaled her with anecdotes from my days with the FBI as well as cases I'd handled after leaving the agency. She suggested that we have dinner sometime.
I hesitated a moment. How much do I explain? “Ingrid,” I said, “you’re a very attractive woman. But right now I can’t.”
She looked a little puzzled. Probably the first time she’d been turned down.
“Someone that I loved very much died a while back. And I’m just not ready to see other people.”
The puzzlement turned to sadness. She nodded and said, “I understand.” Then
she smiled and said, “When you are ready, give me a call.”
“I don’t know when that will be.”
“I understand,” she said.
Just then, June and Eric emerged from her office. I could tell June had been crying. Eric had probably given her Jane's letter. Still, she appeared to be happy.
She said, “I’m going to introduce him to Dad.”
I looked at Eric. He gave me a quick nod and a smile.
Once June and Eric were inside Lyell's office suite, I turned my attention back to Ingrid. “Where were we?” I asked.
“You had just explained why we can’t have dinner together.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“Like I said, I understand.”
We chatted for a few more minutes. She was being very gracious. But it was time for me to go. Eric did not need to me hanging around. I explained to Ingrid that Eric's truck was at my office and he could pick it up anytime. She said she'd mention that to June.
On the drive back to Studio City, I called Mildred and told her I'd be by to pick up Wilson. Then I called Papa's and ordered an extra large pepperoni pizza. I told them I'd be there for it in about thirty-five minutes.
It was good to be home. I fed Wilson his normal dog food but also gave him a slice of pizza. After we ate, we sat on the sofa together and watched a movie.
At ten, my phone rang. It was June.
“I just wanted to thank you again.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “I'm glad everything worked out.”
“Eric will be staying for a few days,” she said.
“That's good.”
“I, ah ...”
“Yes?”
“Well, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me one evening.”
I hesitated, wondering what she meant.
She must have sensed my concern because she said, “Jake, just dinner. For Pete’s sake, I’m old enough… I’m almost old enough to be your mother. I just want to have dinner with you and thank you.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’d like that.”
“I was thinking maybe one evening next week,” she said. “After Eric leaves.”
“Sure. Why don't we just plan on next Friday evening?”
“Sounds good,” she said.
I could tell she was smiling. “It's a date, then,” she said. “I'll make reservations for seven-thirty. You can pick me up at seven.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said. And I really was.
THE END
The Series Continues …
Love and Lies
A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller
Glenn Rogers
Chapter 1
It was five after seven on an unseasonably cool Wednesday morning in the middle of June. Wilson, my four year-old black and white border collie, and I had finished our four-mile morning run and returned home. I’d fed Wilson his breakfast and was pulling together what I needed to fix myself an omelet, when someone knocked on my door. It was my neighbor, Heidi.
“Hi, Heidi,” I said stepping back and opening the door so she could come in. She was wearing tight jeans and a red tank top that highlighted her substantial femininity. Her shoulder-length blond hair framed her pretty, tan face and provided a nice contrast to her sky blue eyes. Wilson came to greet her as she came in and she paused to give him a good two-handed scratch behind his ears. Wilson liked Heidi.
“I'm sorry to bother you so early,” she said, “but when you come home in the evening, I'm usually at work.”
“No problem,” I said. “Want an omelet? I've got plenty of stuff.”
“That sounds good, but it’s way too early for me to eat. You go ahead though. I don't want to hold you up.”
“Okay. What's up? You talk and I'll cook.” I began breaking eggs in a bowl.
Heidi sat at the table. Wilson sat down next to her so she could scratch his ears while she talked with me. Wilson valued multitasking.
“Well,” Heidi said, “it's a little embarrassing, but I'm really kind of freaked out about something.”
I looked up. “What is it?”
“You know I'm tending bar at Bailey’s, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there's this guy who's been there every night for a week now. He comes in around nine and stays until closing. He sits at the bar and watches me. All night. He just watches me.”
“Have you asked him not to?”
“I'm afraid to. He's creepy.”
“You guys got a bouncer?”
“Yeah. Jimmy.”
“Ask Jimmy to say something to him.”
“Okay,” Heidi said, somewhat tentatively. “But that's not all.”
I waited for her to explain.
“Last night when I left, he was sitting in his car, waiting for me to come out. I think he followed me home.”
“You're not sure?”
“No. It's hard to tell at night. You can’t really see the cars; all you can see are headlights.”
She was right about that. Spotting a tail at night is not easy to do.
“But he may have followed you home,” I said.
She nodded. “I know he pulled out of the lot behind me, but then I couldn't tell if he followed me all the way home or not. When I got home and got out of my car, I didn't see him.”
“Okay,” I said. “Tell Jimmy. Have him talk to the guy. If that doesn't work, call me. You've got my cell number.”
“You won't mind?”
“Of course I won't mind.”
“Thank you, Jake. I feel a little silly, but he's really got me spooked.”
“He's probably just a lonely guy smitten by your charms, trying to work up the courage to talk with you.”
She looked uncertain.
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Old,” she said. “Fifties maybe.”
I smiled, thinking about how my father would react to that characterization.
“Big guy?” I asked.
“No. Average. Smaller than you. How tall are you, anyway?”
“Six three.”
“Wow. Tall. How much you weigh?”
“Two forty.”
Her eyebrows went up. Then she said, “No, this guy’s a lot smaller than you.”
“Probably harmless,” I said.
I didn't really think he was harmless, but I didn't want to frighten Heidi any more than she already was. If the guy had waited for her in the parking lot after the bar had closed and then followed her out of the lot, even if he didn't follow her all the way home, he was not harmless. I hoped Jimmy would be able to handle it.
*****
“What's bothering you, Jake?” Mildred asked.
Mildred is my office manager. Her morning office routine includes a cup of coffee, visiting the AARP website to see what new concerns may have cropped up overnight, and a stock market website so she can monitor her retirement portfolio. Mildred is sixty-seven, has gray hair, stands maybe five-four, is a little overweight, looks like a kindly grandmother and is tough as nails. She talks everyday about retiring, but I don't believe she ever will. I hope she doesn’t. She would be impossible to replace.
I had just taken a sip of my second cup of tea when Mildred stepped through the open French doors into my side of our side-by-side office suite, sat down in one of my guest chairs, and asked her question.
I said, “What do you mean, what’s bothering me?”
“You've been distracted and distant for days. What's bothering you?”
“Distracted and distant?”
“Have you paid the bills yet this month?”
“No.”
“Did you remember to pick up Wilson's flea and tick medication?”
“No.”
“Have you called your father back yet?”
“That's different.”
“Did you remember but put it off? Or did you forget?”
She had me. Grudgingly, I said, “I forgot.”
“Right. But you don't usua
lly forget much of anything. So what's bothering you?”
I took a deep breath and said, “Something June Morrison said.”
“June Morrison,” Mildred said. “Last month?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
June Morrison had been a client who’d hired me to discover why her identical twin sister had walked away from her life thirty years before. The case turned out to be a lot more complicated than either of us had anticipated at the beginning.
“We’d gotten to be friends,” I said, “and she asked why I didn’t date. I explained about Elaine and she seemed to understand. But then, after a few moments, she asked if I had found the mole inside the agency.”
“The mole? “
“Yeah.”
“Inside the FBI?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Someone inside the FBI informed the syndicate that your weapons deal was a sting operation?” Mildred asked.
“That’s what she was suggesting,” I said.
Mildred took a moment to digest the idea. Mildred’s husband had been a cop on the LAPD for thirty years, over twenty of those in homicide. Six months after he retired he had a heart attack and died. She’d come to work for me a month after the funeral. Over the years she’d been married to a cop, she’d heard so much that nothing much surprised her.
She said, “And that's bothering you because?”
“Because the more I think about it, the more I think she’s right.”
Mildred studied me a moment and then said, “So what are you going to do about it?”
Until she asked me, I hadn't been sure. That's probably what had been distracting me. But once she asked ... “I'm going to find out if she's right,” I said.
“And if she is?” Mildred asked.
“Then whoever it was is going to answer to me.”
Available from
Amazon.com
Or ask your bookstore to order it
Check out Glenn’s other books on his website:
booksbyglennrogers.net