by Marie Astor
Janet took a deep breath—breaking into Dennis’s computer felt wrong, and yet, she had to admit she was tempted. Besides, he could be in danger and he might need her help—these were justifiable reasons.
Her mind set, Janet crept across the hallway. Feeling like a thief, she quickly logged into Dennis’s computer. She was ashamed to admit she had memorized the password while watching him log in before. At the time, she’d rationalized it by thinking the information might come in handy in case she needed to back Dennis up at work, but now she wondered if the action had been deliberate—if deep down she knew she couldn’t really trust him, but refused to admit it to herself.
Moments later, Dennis’s calendar was up on the computer screen. At the five thirty p.m. slot there was a meeting at a bar in Downtown, Manhattan. The address was the only detail the appointment contained, but that was all Janet needed. With any luck, she could still make it there in time. Janet raced back to her office, grabbed her jacket and purse, and was out the door.
Chapter 7
Feeling like a sleuth in a cheap detective novel, Janet slunk across the street to the bar where Dennis was having his mysterious rendezvous. It was ten to six and she hoped that he’d still be there with his secret date, whoever she was.
When she reached the door, Janet froze in her tracks, suddenly aware that she didn’t really have a plan. In her anger at Dennis, she’d neglected to think things through. She needed a place to hide—a place from which she could observe, but remain unobserved. Even though it was relatively early, the bar was bustling with people coming in and out. A happy hour sign, promising five dollar drinks until six p.m., had to be the explanation for the busy traffic since the bar didn’t look particularly hip or trendy; in fact, it was a bit shabby. Here goes nothing, Janet thought, raising the collar of her jacket and walking inside. With any luck, the busy crowd would become her cover.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside. She understood instantly why Dennis had picked this place for his meeting—it was crowded and noisy inside, which made it virtually impossible to be overheard or seen unless you wanted to be. Janet moved towards the back of the bar and scanned the crowd. Within moments she spotted Dennis sitting at the far end of the bar. Next to him was a brunette in a leather jacket—her face was turned the other way, but Janet could tell the woman was young and with a very attractive figure. Instantly, she felt a pang of jealousy—what the hell was Dennis doing cavorting with some sleazy brunette when they had a wedding to plan? Reason told her this could still be a legitimate meeting—the woman could be a witness or an informant, but her mind refused to believe it. Janet squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the woman’s face, but the woman continued to look the other way. Even with her back turned, something in the woman’s posture and body language made her seem familiar, but Janet couldn’t put her finger on it. She moved back deeper into the crowd and found a comfortable spot in a corner. Judging by how absorbed Dennis looked listening to his companion, she doubted he would notice her. Just then the brunette turned around and Janet’s jaw dropped—it was Mila Brabec—key witness in the Kovars case.
With a tremendous effort of will, Janet forced herself to remain where she was. She wasn’t sure what upset her more—the knowledge that Dennis was sneaking behind her back, that he was putting his job in danger by blatantly disobeying his boss’s orders, or that he blew off their wedding appointment for a meeting with Mila Brabec. Janet’s eyes narrowed as she watched Mila flip her hair and toss back a drink. Any compassion Janet might have felt for Mila in the past had instantly evaporated. The woman was a born flirt—she oozed sexuality, like a trail of cheap perfume, and now this trail of cheap perfume was being sprayed all over Dennis. This woman had a shady past and could not be trusted—for all they knew she could be back to her old ways, back in bed with the Kovars and luring Dennis into a trap. Janet bit her lip—how could Dennis lie to her about meeting with Mila? Not to mention that he ditched their wedding appointment to see her.
Damn, the wedding appointment! Janet suddenly realized she’d forgotten to call the wedding planner to cancel. As if on cue, her cell phone rang and Janet nearly dropped her purse. Luckily, it was way too noisy for anyone to hear anything. “Hello?” she whispered into the phone.
“Janet, it’s Irene. What’s going on? I’m here with Francois. He has all kinds of marvelous creations lined up for you to see and you’re not here.”
“Irene, I’m so sorry,” Janet muttered. “Something came up at work and I forgot to call you.” Janet desperately glanced at her watch. “I could still make it—any way you could wait for me? I could be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry, but Francois’s schedule is packed. He has a big party tonight and this was the only opening he had for the entire month.”
Janet bit her lip in vexation—their wedding plans were falling to pieces.
“Janet, are you there? Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get the samples to go for you and then we can let Francois know which one you like most.”
“Irene, you’re a miracle worker.” Janet exhaled with relief. “I’ll meet you by Francois’s in twenty.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
Janet hung up the phone and shoved it into her purse. Without another look at Dennis and Mila, she headed for the door. She was done—if Dennis wanted to waste his time cavorting around with the likes of Mila, that was his choice. She had more important things to do, like picking up their wedding cake samples.
Twenty minutes later, Janet was approaching the storefront of Francois Bissette’s pastry shop and café. The intricate creations displayed in the window made her mouth water—she could sure use a sugar boost right now. As they had agreed, Irene was waiting for her.
“Hey there, stranger,” Irene greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi. I’m so sorry I’m late. I really wanted to meet Francois,” Janet said guiltily.
“I know. But guess what, you get to do something that’s almost just as good—meet his creations.” She handed Janet an ornate paper bag. “Just remember to sample only and not eat all of them. Francois was very generous with the portions,” she added.
“I won’t,” Janet promised, although the thought of drowning out her worries in a sugar rush seemed very tempting at the moment.
“Hey, are you all right?” Irene eyed her with concern. Years of being a wedding planner had prepared her for all sorts of calamities.
“I’m fine.” Janet smiled brightly. “It’s just very busy at work and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed trying to balance it all.”
Irene squeezed her arm. “That’s what I’m here for. And don’t you worry about missing the meeting with Francois—he told me that it’ll be his pleasure to make your wedding cake.”
“You’re amazing!”
“Just doing my job.” Irene smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to get a cup of coffee or a drink?”
“Thanks, but really, I’m fine. I think I’m just going to head home and have an early night.”
“Okay then. Oh, I almost forgot.” Irene pulled a folder out of her large satchel bag and handed it to Janet. “Your wedding invitations—let me know which one you like most and we’ll start sending them out.”
“Thanks.” Janet put the folder into her tote bag. “I’ll have Dennis take a look at them and I’ll let you know. He’s been a little distracted lately.”
“Men.” Irene flashed another one of her reassuring smiles. “Distracted is their middle name.”
“You got that one right,” Janet tried to sound more cheerful than she really was. The problem was that Dennis wasn’t really distracted at all—at least not when it came to things that interested him. Unfortunately, their wedding didn’t seem to make the list of important things, while sneaking around with Mila Brabec did.
***
Mila Brabec adjusted her sunglasses, raised the collar of her jacket, and tightened the silk scarf covering her head as s
he entered the bar where she was to meet Dennis Walker. She spotted him right away sitting at the far end of the bar stand and made her way towards him.
“A Bloody Mary, please,” she asked the bartender as she took a seat next to Dennis.
“That’s my kind of drink.” Dennis raised his glass in a greeting.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said gruffly—she wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. She needed to tell Dennis about the Kovars and she needed to know what the hell she was supposed to do next. “Don’t you think it’s a little noisy in here?” she asked, annoyed with Dennis’s choice of a meeting spot—it didn’t have any privacy to speak of.
“Relax.” His voice was calm, but steely as he squeezed her arm in a firm grip. “This place is perfect—it’s dark and noisy—no one could hear us even if they tried. And take that silly scarf and those shades off—you look like a spy from a sixties movie.”
Mila took off her shades and slid the scarf off her head—she never claimed to be an expert on camouflage. “So?” she asked, referring to their earlier conversation over the phone when she told Dennis about the note left underneath her door.
“I think the Kovars are out. I think the accident was a cover-up for their escape.” Dennis clinked his glass against Mila’s. “To old friendships.”
“I’d hardly call them that,” she muttered and took a long swallow. She hadn’t eaten anything all day for fear of throwing up and now she felt the alcohol hitting her stomach. She bit into an olive—getting drunk with Dennis Walker was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.
“You need to find a different place to stay,” Dennis said. “Somewhere Anton won’t find you. Going to the FBI is too risky right now—the Kovars might have someone on the inside—we wouldn’t want them to get tipped off.”
“How’s that possible?” Mila asked, instantly aware of her naiveté—the possibility of corruption had never entered her mind.
Dennis shrugged. “You never know where you’ll find a rotten apple. The Kovars obviously have someone helping them in law enforcement—someone who organized their escape. It’s too risky to go to the authorities until we know more.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for Anton to show up on my doorstep?”
“Do you have family or friends you could stay with? Someone Anton doesn’t know?”
Mila thought about her cousin Ania, but instantly rejected the idea. She and Ania weren’t exactly close. Mila was pretty sure that given the choice, Ania would rather have her swanky Upper East Side apartment infested with termites than let Mila stay there. She could stay with Amy, but Anton knew about her and she didn’t want to subject Amy to danger. And then there was Philip, but involving him was out of the question. Mila shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“No one?” Dennis asked in disbelief.
“I like to keep to myself. Don’t worry. I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, but I don’t want to take any chances. You can stay at my place until we figure things out.”
“No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the Kovars.”
Dennis looked squarely at her. “Really? Are you sure about that? Need I remind you you’re the one who came to me for help, not the other way around?”
Mila hung her head. “I guess not.”
“That’s what I thought. Come on, it’s not that bad. I promise a change of sheets and even fresh towels,” Dennis quipped.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” Mila wondered how on earth she was going to explain her new address to Philip.
“We’ll go to your place right now to get your things—pack only the essentials. After that, we’ll go to my apartment and get you settled in.”
Mila sighed. The prospect of sharing living quarters with Dennis Walker—the man responsible for her testifying against the Kovars wasn’t exactly appealing to her—but then it wasn’t like she had many options to choose from.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be staying with my fiancée, Janet,” Dennis continued, as if reading Mila’s thoughts. “You remember her? She worked the Kovars case before.”
“I remember.” Mila nodded. “She befriended me under a false identity and tricked me into spilling my guts to her. Then she used this information against me. How could I forget?”
Dennis shook his head. “Taking up with Anton Kovar wasn’t anyone’s fault but yours, Mila. You made the bargain with the FBI, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. And I also remember I was promised complete anonymity and protection. And look where that’s gotten me?”
“I promise you that I’ll protect you. Janet and I will not stop until we figure this out. I’ll be checking in with you daily and you can reach me on my cell at all times. I’ll give you Janet’s number also.”
Mila rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”
“I’ll need a list of your close friends and any men you’re seeing—”
“Men?” Mila exclaimed indignantly. “You think I’m the kind of girl who sleeps around, don’t you?”
“Not at all. I only meant if you don’t have a steady boyfriend, I’d need a list of men you might’ve dated recently—”
“I do have a boyfriend, thank you very much,” Mila spat back, realizing her mistake only too late.
“Excellent. I will need his name and phone number.”
“Why on earth would you need that? My personal life is none of your business.”
“It is now that you’ve come to me for help. And I will need your boyfriend’s name in case something should happen to you. Also, it goes without saying that you should go outside as little as possible until we figure out where the Kovars are.”
“What? That’s out of the question! I have a life. I have a business to run—”
“Last time I checked, your bar burned down to the ground. Do you really think it’s smart to take chances right now?”
Mila stared back at him silently, blinking away tears. “I guess not. But I can’t just disappear. I have to sort things out with the insurance agents and figure out how to rebuild Amy and Mila’s—”
“I could be wrong, but I doubt you’ll be able to do any of these things stuck in a basement somewhere with your hands tied and a gag in your mouth, or worse.”
Mila eyed him with a terrified stare.
“And that’s best case scenario. I doubt Anton Kovar has a warm reunion in mind when it comes to you.”
“And whose fault is that?” Mila shot back. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. When I testified against the Kovars, the feds promised me protection, and now we can’t even go to the feds and I’m supposed to be running away like some scared rabbit.”
Dennis grabbed Mila’s arm. “Be thankful that you still got legs to run away,” he muttered. “The Kovars are no joke. And I didn’t get you into this mess—you were already up to your neck with the Kovars when I met you. If anything, I helped you get away from Anton.”
“And look how well that turned out,” Mila spat back.
“You should’ve been more careful with your choice of men. Shacking up with Anton Kovar wasn’t exactly a smart move—” Dennis broke off, noticing the wounded look in Mila’s eyes. “I’m sorry. That was too much. I know it’s hard on you, but you have to stay focused, Mila. You have to help me protect you.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
Chapter 8
Exhausted, Janet opened her apartment door and was promptly pounced on by Baxter, her Jack Russell Terrier. Baxter was always happy to see her, but tonight he was particularly excited as he could no doubt smell the contents of the bag Janet was carrying from Francois Bissette’s.
“Easy there, Baxter.” Janet lifted up the bag and set it on top of the shoe chest where it was safely out of Baxter’s reach. She bent down to scratch Baxter behind his ear. “I missed you too.”
Baxter barked loudly, looked back at her and then at the shoe chest, propping his front paws against it in an attempt to
reach the top.
Janet shook her finger. “Naughty boy. Sweets are bad for you. Did you have a nice walk with Mrs. Chapman?” Mrs. Chapman was Janet’s neighbor. A former librarian and part time opera singer, Mrs. Chapman was now retired. But she still maintained her love of the opera and spent her days playing the piano and singing her favorite arias.
Baxter ignored Janet’s question, his eyes fixed expectantly on the top of the shoe box.
“Come on,” Janet said. “It’s time for dinner.”
She went into the kitchen, reached for a can of Baxter’s favorite dog food, and emptied its contents into his bowl. “Baxter, come here, boy! Time for dinner.” Normally when it came to food, Janet didn’t have to call Baxter’s name twice, but in a battle between savory and sweet, the latter clearly won, as Baxter remained in the foyer, his eyes glued to the Francois Bissette bag.
“All right,” Janet caved in, walking over and grabbing the bag. “Finish your dinner and I’ll let you have a small treat.”
Baxter barked one more time in protest, but seeing that she wasn’t about to budge, trotted over to his bowl and began to consume its contents hungrily.
“See? It’s your favorite.”
Janet set the bag on top of the kitchen counter and wondered what to do with the rest of her evening. Consuming wedding cake samples with no one but Baxter for company was not at all how she’d pictured it. Dennis should be there. They should be feeding each other cake, licking the icing off each other’s lips, and having a wonderful time of it. Instead, Dennis was spending the evening with Mila Brabec. The image of Mila on a bar stool, with her long, model-like legs crisscrossed seductively, flashed before Janet’s eyes. So maybe Dennis was right and the Kovars had indeed escaped, which theoretically made it possible for Mila to have legitimate reasons to see Dennis, but it still didn’t give him the right to lie to Janet and leave her alone to stuff her face with cake.