Sylvia Selfman - Izzy Greene 01 - Murder She Typed

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Sylvia Selfman - Izzy Greene 01 - Murder She Typed Page 7

by Sylvia Selfman


  I walked, head held high, to the dressing room. A few minutes later her disembodied voice floated above the curtain, “Can I get you anything else?” To my horror, the dressing room curtain began to part. I made a grab for it and clutched it tightly together as she struggled to pull it open. It was a life and death battle to salvage what was left of my self-esteem. If child-clerk thought she was going to see me in a thong, she had another think coming.

  “Oh, and I’ll need a different size, dearie…,” I said in an overly-sweet voice while still keeping an iron grip on the curtain.

  She loosened her hold on the fabric and started to move away.

  Ha! I won!

  “We don’t have anything bigger,” she called out in an equally sweet voice.

  “Actually I’ll need something smaller,” I chirped.

  I chose to ignore the snicker coming from the other side of the curtain, as well as the dimpled thighs staring back at me in the three-way mirror, then suddenly realized I didn’t know the date of the French Revolution either.

  Chapter 17

  I couldn’t believe how nervous I was about my date with Merv. After all, we’d dated for almost a year so it wasn’t like we didn’t know each other. Of course that was back when I’d taken him for granted, back before S.S. Now that another woman had entered the picture I had to admit his stock had suddenly skyrocketed.

  And I intended to wow him.

  I applied the final touches of eyeliner, then stood back to study myself in the mirror. I automatically reached up and lifted the sides of my face––yes, a nip and tuck here and there wouldn’t do any harm.

  I’d always been chicken about undergoing unnecessary surgery but looking at the face staring back at me I would no longer call it ‘unnecessary.’ Of course, there was the money aspect. I still didn’t understand why pulling up some skin and tucking it behind some ears should cost an arm and a leg. Not when I could get a complete bathroom redo with granite counter tops and a toilet that didn’t clog up, for the same price.

  I checked myself again in the mirror. Not bad, I decided, adding a touch more eyeliner and rouge.

  Merv looked at me across the candlelit table at Sullivans. “You look so sexy tonight, I’m finding it hard to keep my hands off you.” To prove it he reached under the table and squeezed my thigh.

  And you should see my thong. Which unfortunately was cutting into my behind at the moment. But seeing how complimentary Merv was, I decided it was worth every drop of pain––even if I did end up with a case of hemorrhoids.

  “I’ve missed you, Izzy.”

  “Why miss me when all you had to do was pick up the phone and call?”

  “Something came up.”

  “Ha, I’ll bet it did.” I took a small sip of martini, not wanting to do a replay of the recent vomiting incident. Besides Flo would kill me if I got a stain on her top. “Are you still seeing that Sockerman woman?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I have my spies. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” I downed the rest of my martini––Flo’s blouse would have to fend for itself. “Did you ask me out tonight because Sondra’s out of town? And don’t lie to me.”

  “Sondra’s out of town?” Merv’s surprise seemed genuine. “How do you know she’s out of town?”

  “Like I said, I have my spies. Did you think your dating Sondra Sockerman wouldn’t get back to me? Perhaps you forgot that we were a twosome for the past year.” By now I had worked myself up into such a state that I pushed aside what was left (an ounce or two) of my twelve ounce t-bone. “Please box up the rest for my dog,” I said to the waiter who appeared with the dessert menu.

  Merv looked surprised. “You got a dog?”

  “It was a figure of speech. Though I might get a cat,” I said. Unless I could find some plausible excuse not to take Sherlock.

  Merv made a face. “I’d think twice about adopting a cat. They can be awfully mean. Say, would you like some dessert?”

  “I’m on a diet,” I said, choking on the words.

  “No kidding? That sounds like a good idea.”

  If looks could kill, Merv would be a dead duck with an apple in his mouth, served up on a silver platter.

  “Then you won’t mind if I order one,” he said.

  “Mind? Why in the world would I mind?” I said through clenched teeth.

  “By the way who was that guy I saw you kissing at the Meat Market?”

  Ah, so he had seen me with Frank. “Oh, he’s one of my many admirers.”

  “Can’t say that I blame him,” Merv said.

  I looked at Merv and smiled. He did look dashing in his gray cotton pants and crisp, white, long sleeved shirt with the top button open––no doubt the Sondra Sockerman Effect. I wasn’t stupid, I knew a man’s stock skyrocketed when he strayed. I also knew that it was not something on which to build a relationship. Or, in this case, restart one.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “Oh was I looking at you? I was wondering what you were so busy with the last few weeks that you couldn’t call.”

  “Had business to take care of.”

  Yeah, right. Monkey business.

  “But it’s all taken care of now. By the way I assume you don’t want any of my dessert if you’re dieting.”

  “Why would you assume that?” I reached over and dug into his hot apple strudel, making sure I got a hefty chunk of the vanilla ice cream along with it.

  “You’re not inviting me in?” Merv asked as he walked me to my door. “How about for a quickie?

  I gave him the evil eye.

  “I was referring to quickie night cap.”

  I hated to see a grown man beg, but I had to admit I was enjoying it. “Sorry, it’s late.”

  Merv grabbed me around the waist, pulled me toward him, planting a long bruising kiss on my lips. Unable to breathe, I had a vision of the morning’s headline: Kiss Asphyxiates Local Temptress. Well, I might be dead but I’d be the envy of all the ladies at Palm Springs Sun Villas.

  “Want to rethink your answer?” he asked.

  I wriggled free of his embrace. “Not really.” I sounded more definite than I felt. “At least not yet,” I added. “And thanks again for a great dinner.”

  “Yeah, right,” he mumbled.

  I had no sooner shut the door behind me when there was loud pounding. I threw the door open. Merv was standing there, scowling.

  “Something wrong?”

  “You bet there is. Maybe you forgot how much we cared for each other.” He paused, then added with a sheepish grin, “I guess you’re not the only one who forgot.”

  I’m a soft-touch when it comes to someone admitting the error of his ways. Besides he’d just blown seventy-five dollars on my dinner. “Okay, come in. But only for a nite-cap, so don’t get any ideas.”

  He followed me into the kitchen. “Look, let’s face it, we’re not kids. There’s no sense beating around the bush. I want you tonight and I know you want me.”

  “I do?” Perhaps I did. After an evening of enduring thong pain, why should it all be for naught? Besides Merv was looking downright sexy.

  We made a beeline to the bedroom. The nitecap was forgotten as was my promise to take care of Flo’s blouse. I pulled it off and tossed it onto the floor along with my cutlet enhanced bra. While I struggled out of my too tight pants, Merv struggled with his zipper. After he finally won that battle, he hopped around, pulling off one pants leg, then the other. I worried he’d fall over and injure himself before we even began making love.

  Throwing his pants on the floor, he noticed that I was staring at his nether regions. He smiled proudly, “Big, huh?”

  “Bikinis. You’ve switched from boxers to bikinis. When did that happen?” Silly question. Of course. It was more Sondra Sockerman Effect.

  Merv reached for me. “Come here, baby, I’ve missed you.” It was obvious to the naked eye that he was telling the truth, thanks to the m
iracle of Viagra.

  “Welcome back,” I said, smiling.

  ***************************

  Merv and I lay side by side on the bed trying to catch our breath.

  “How about letting me stay the night? We could have another go at it after my heart rate gets back to normal.”

  If it gets back to normal. At our age one can only hope. “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you for deserting me these last few weeks. And the answer to your question is, no, you can’t stay the night.”

  To make my point, I rolled out of bed, gathered up his clothes from the floor and tossed them at him. He reached out to catch them which is when I saw it.

  I pointed to his arm. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “Your arm. It’s covered with scratches.”

  “Oh that. It’s from pruning the bougainvillea in my yard. Damn nasty thorns.”

  “I thought your gardener took care of your yard,” I said suspiciously.

  “Yeah, well, he’s been out sick.”

  I took hold of his arm and studied it. “You sure that’s how you got these scratches?”

  He pulled his arm away. “Yeah, and what’s with the third degree? What’s gotten into you?”

  “Oh nothing. It just that I thought maybe a cat scratched you.”

  “A cat? How’d you come up with that? Why in the world would you think a cat scratched me? Say, are you positive you don’t want me to spend the night?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m positive.”

  ***************************************

  There was nothing like the early morning light to put things in perspective. As I awoke I wondered if Merv had used me as a convenient replacement for Sondra until she returned. That is, if she returned.

  It was confusing to be both jealous of, and worried about Sondra at the same time. But I couldn’t help it. The jealous part of me hoped she would never return while the worried part prayed she’d be back––and soon. I padded into the kitchen and put in a pod of extra bold in the coffee machine and sat down at the kitchen counter.

  Was Merv telling the truth that the scratches on his arm were from bougainvillea plants? What if he was lying and they were from Sondra’s cat? That would mean Merv was the man Lorna had overheard threatening Sondra. That he was the one who may have pushed her over the edge of the hill.

  Was it possible that after a year of dating, I didn’t know the real Merv?

  Perhaps one never really knew anyone, including one’s self. Clearly some heavy duty sweets were required to carry me through this existential crisis but unfortunately I’d finished off the last of the chocolate chip cookies the day before and hadn’t had time to replenish my stock. As if on cue, Flo’s phone call came to the rescue. “Starbucks, in forty five. I need to hear all about your date.”

  Carrying our coffee and chocolate croissants outside, we grabbed our usual table near the large ficus tree. “Okay, details, please. And don’t skip any,” Flo demanded.

  “There’s nothing much to tell, other than I looked smashing thanks to your blouse, my cutlet enhanced bustline and a thong that caused excruciating pain.”

  “Serves you right for trying to seduce that two-timing SOB.”

  “You wouldn’t describe Merv that way if you saw how great he looked. I hate to admit it but Sondra has done wonders for him. He was like a new person.”

  “Please don’t tell me you ended up in bed with him.” She was studying me closely. “OMG, you did, didn’t you!” Flo rolled her eyes.

  For some reason I remembered one of the silly conversations that my husband and I sometimes indulged in. We were lounging around on the bed one lazy Sunday morning, joking about what would happen when one or the other died first.

  “All the women will be lining up to bring tuna casseroles to your door before my casket’s in the ground,” I told him. I knew there was more truth than not to my comment.

  “And knowing you,” he’d laughed. “You’ll be taking your marriage vows again before the rabbi sends me off with the final prayer.”

  We’d been married thirty-eight years, confident that death was a long way off. Except that it wasn’t. Four months after that conversation, Sam was diagnosed with non-hodgkins lymphoma. He died within the year.

  Flo put down her coffee cup. “Did you hear anything I said?”

  “Sorry, I was thinking about Sam and how much I missed him.”

  “Then it’s time you found someone like him. Someone who deserves you.”

  “Look who’s talking,” I countered. “I don’t see you rushing into the arms of anyone.”

  “Haven’t found anyone worthy of me. But trust me, I haven’t given up the hunt. Which reminds me, how’s Frank?”

  “Oh, Frank,” I sighed and took a large bite of my croissant. “I think he likes me. I have the feeling he’s going to ask me out again.”

  “And you’ll go, I hope.”

  “I’m not sure, now that Merv’s back in the picture. At least I think he’s back.”

  “Merv.” Flo shook her head. “I give up. I hate to say this, Izzy, but you’re hopeless.”

  I watched Flo demolish her chocolate croissant and wondered if she was right. Perhaps I was settling for Merv because he was familiar and I was tired of being alone. Though I had to admit there were many times that I was with Merv and still felt alone.

  Flo interrupted my musings. “I hope he used protection.”

  “Why? You’re afraid I’ll get pregnant?”

  “It’s not a laughing matter,” Flo said in her most disapproving voice.

  “Of course I did. I’m not about to take chances at getting those SLD’s at my age.”

  “STD’s,” Flo corrected.

  “Flo, promise you won’t laugh at me if I ask you something?” We were walking back to our condos at a fairly brisk pace, hoping to work off the morning’s calories.

  I was beginning to think that our exercise program was a losing proposition––in everything but weight anyway. “Do you think it’s possible that Merv and the guy on the Bump and Grind could be the same person?”

  Flo stopped and looked at me like I was crazy.

  I pulled the brim of my cap lower against the blinding sun. “I’m serious. Do you think I slept with a murderer?”

  I was surprised that Flo answered seriously rather than laughing off my question. “I thought you said Sondra left a message with the Senior Center saying that she was out of town. Which would mean she’s alive.”

  “True,” I nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

  We picked up our pace and walked the rest of the way in silence.

  As we prepared to split off to our respective condos, I stopped and looked at Flo. “What if it wasn’t Sondra who left that message? What if it was someone pretending to be Sondra?”

  For once Flo didn’t have an answer.

  As for me, I knew what I had to do.

  I called Danny the minute I got home. I figured if anyone had Sondra’s email it’d be him.

  “Why would you think I’d have it? Yeah, I have it. What do you want it for anyway?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d let her know I found her gold ankle chain.”

  “I see,” he murmured.

  I heard the hesitation in his voice. “Any problem with that?” I asked.

  “Of course not. Why would I have a problem? Hold on a sec. I’ll get it for you.”

  My email to Sondra informed her that I found her gold chain on the Bump and Grind. I also mentioned that her neighbor, Lorna Turner, had her cat, Sherlock, but, not to worry, she was taking good care of him. To ensure a reply back, I asked if there was any special food Sherlock liked since Lorna complained that he wasn’t eating. Probably because he missed his mommy, I added to instill the maximum amount of guilt.

  There was nothing more I could do except wait for Sondra to answer back.

  Chapter 18

  He sat down at his desk and turned on Son
dra’s laptop. Good thing he’d gone back to Sondra’s condo and taken it. Though that snooping bitch had almost caught him in Sondra’s condo that day he was searching the place.

  But it had been worth the risk. He’d found Sondra’s laptop and brought it home. Now he could find what he was looking for.

  He began searching the hard drive, when a familiar ding sounded. And the words, “you’ve got mail.”

  He opened Sondra’s email and scrolled slowly through, so as not to miss anything important. It was the usual junk mail. Except for one.

  The one from Izzy Greene.

  He clicked on it and read it. Then he read it again. That damn cat. It had been nothing but trouble right from the beginning. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples in an attempt to calm himself. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. Doesn’t that bitch ever give up? He was sure he’d shaken her off his tail with that email he’d sent to the writing class. He should have finished her off when he had the chance. He knew she was trouble.

  An unfamiliar weariness overcame him as he shut down the computer. He sat back and stared at the black screen. Yes, he would have to shut Izzy Greene down once and for all.

  Chapter 19

  The room was empty which surprised me since I was usually the last one to arrive at the writing group. I had time to check over the new story I’d started—about an older woman who meets a gorgeous but much younger man at the midnight buffet table on a cruise. I was hoping I would actually finish this one since it was about my two favorite subjects—food and men.

  “Man, that traffic’s a mess,” Danny said, tossing his papers on the table. “All kinds of road construction near the I-10. By the way, did you ever hear back from Sondra?”

  I looked up in surprise. I was so immersed in doing final edits on my story, I didn’t hear him enter the room. “Not yet. Hopefully I’ll get an answer soon.”

 

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