by Ann Roberts
“Ms. Nelson, I appreciate you coming by on such short notice. I assume you’ve heard about the arrest of Chynna Grove?”
“I have but I’m not convinced she’s the killer. I understand the murder weapon was found on her property, but the police acquired the information from an anonymous tip. That’s a bit fishy to me.”
He listened politely but she could tell he’d already made up his mind or rather the council had made it up for him. “Ms. Nelson, I understand your concern, but the police believe they can trace the source of the tip. Apparently Ms. Grove was at a bar last night and became quite inebriated and talkative. The bartender told the police she acknowledged breaking the windows in front of the whole crowd.”
“Did she say she’d murdered Ms. Wonders?”
He shrugged, then retrieved a manila envelope from his desk and presented it to her. “The council greatly appreciates your services, and while we wish to retain Nelson Security for the First and Third Friday events, we must be fiscally responsible. We cannot continue to pay for a private investigator when the police have charged a suspect. The businesses we represent wouldn’t approve. I hope you understand.”
She stood and took the envelope. “Thanks.”
He walked her to the door and said, “If it makes you feel any better, Lorraine agrees with you. She fought to retain your services but this time she was clearly outnumbered.” He chuckled and said, “Even I didn’t take her side, and I imagine I’ll hear about it tonight at dinner.”
She appreciated his candor but she felt like a failure. “Thank you again,” she said with a slight smile. “By next Wednesday I’ll email you regarding our preparations for the upcoming Third Friday.”
They shook hands and he added, “Don’t forget to have Margaret validate your parking.”
Indeed she already had her trusty stamp in hand when Molly crossed the plush carpet. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said, pressing the stamp against the blank side of the parking ticket. “But I’m glad you’re still providing security.” She glanced down at the enormous spreadsheet on her desk and asked hesitantly, “Can you show yourself out?” She was clearly torn between proper office etiquette and finishing her work.
“No problem,” she said with a wave.
The office was a ghost town and everyone on the floor had left for the weekend. As she passed the receptionist’s desk, for the first time she noticed the enormous signage above the lobby couch. Although she’d visited the company several times and always stopped in the reception area, it was usually teeming with activity and she’d always been shuttled back to Margaret quickly.
The Rosenthal Group was spelled out in large brushed nickel letters. What caught her attention was the o in Rosenthal because it wasn’t an o but a peace sign. Of course. He’s a leftover flower child. She stared at the sign and things started to click into place. She pulled the parking ticket from her pocket and compared the company logo to the sign. Margaret had stamped RoG on the back, but the ink was smudged and it was impossible to see the intricacies of the peace sign.
She peered down the hallway, checking to see if Margaret was still entrenched behind her desk before she stepped behind the receptionist’s counter. She opened a few drawers and grabbed a piece of letterhead, Rosenthal’s business card and a parking decal. The validation stamp sat in a plastic organizer next to the computer. She looked carefully at the molded letters and the peace sign.
After returning the stamp to its home, she stuffed the other items in her briefcase and headed for the elevator. Her heart started to pound by the time she got in the truck. She set the stationery, card and decal on the truck’s bench seat and studied the logo. The peace sign went nearly unnoticed when The Rosenthal Group was spelled out in its entirety as it was on the stationery and the business card. She knew the Nelson Security contract with the First Friday Council contained a cover letter written on stationary from The Rosenthal Group, but she’d never noticed the o.
She picked up the parking decal, which was modeled after the validation stamp. The Rosenthal Group wouldn’t fit on a four-inch square sticker, but RoG would. The peace sign was quite obvious.
She started the truck, but instead of heading to the exit, she ascended the ramps slowly past the visitor parking. The reserved parking began on the second floor. She chugged along at five miles an hour, looking at the bumpers. Just as she was preparing to head up to Level Three, she saw the decal on a red Porsche Cayenne. She imagined it belonged to Lev Rosenthal, and to many people looking at the decal, especially a homeless person who might frequently be hungry, the peace sign would look like a pie.
It’s pie day.
Chapter Seventeen
Ari’s Sunday was full of surprises. Lynn and Brian found their dream home, forcing her to cancel her plans to attend the Sunday matinee with Molly. The paperwork had taken several hours to complete. Once the offer was electronically communicated to the other agent, she walked them outside. Lynn’s cell phone rang and she gave Ari a quick hug before retreating to the interior of the car to take the call.
“You need to know that Molly and Yoli are not in a good place,” Brian said.
Although Ari had shared many personal memories with them as Molly’s girlfriend, they’d agreed to keep their conversations professional as they searched for a house.
“What? Brian we can’t—”
“Yeah, we can.” He was an imposing figure with rippling biceps. His long blond hair and earrings suggested a rogue, but she knew kindness was his greatest gift. “I’m not one to meddle, but my sister’s in a black hole with that woman and Yoli’s a viper.”
She couldn’t deny it felt good to have someone confirm her feelings about Yoli. “Did something happen?”
He glanced at Lynn before he said, “They came over last night to celebrate Don Jr.’s birthday.”
She smiled. “That’s right. I forgot your brother’s birthday was so close to Molly’s. Tell him I said happy birthday.”
“I will,” he said pleasantly before his tone turned irritated. “Yoli got into it with my dad about the troops in Iraq and wouldn’t let up. You know he’s a pacifist through and through. He supports the military but thinks Iraq was Bush’s biggest mistake. Yoli went off on him, calling him un-American. Ruined the whole party and Dad said she can never come back.”
She thought of the awkward position Molly would be placed in—between her lover and her family. Then Brian’s crystal-blue eyes, the same color as Molly’s, twinkled. “However,” he said with a dramatic pause, “Mol’s been talking a lot more about you and this case lately. She admires you a lot, looks up to you.”
“Me?” She couldn’t believe it. She was a real estate agent. Molly was the trained detective. “Why?”
“It’s your way with people. Molly can read situations and put evidence together like nobody’s business. You read people. You make a great team.”
He gave her a hug and joined Lynn in the car. They drove away and she stood on the curb, deep in thought until the heat forced her back inside. One of the worst parts of her breakup with Molly was losing the entire Nelson clan and the invitation to Sunday dinner. Molly’s mom Teddy had been especially unforgiving and the rest of the family followed her lead.
She wandered back into the quiet office and veered into the conference room. She knew Brian meant well but his comment didn’t make her feel any better. The idea of reuniting with Molly had grown distant. Necessarily distant. All she could think about was her cry from the conference room floor, “I need you.”
As if she could read her thoughts, Ari’s cell phone chimed with a text from Molly. Just spoke with Brian. Are you still at the office?
She texted back an affirmative answer and Molly replied with Dropping off Yoli. Be there in fifteen.
She didn’t like Yoli, and liked her less now that she knew how contemptuously she treated the Nelsons.
You and Molly make a great team.
Yet when a clearly distraught Molly stormed into the conference roo
m an hour later, Ari’s first instinct was to say, “Are you and Yoli okay? We don’t have to do this today.”
“Yes, we need to do this. This isn’t about us. It isn’t about me and Yoli. It’s about a poor woman whose murder needs to be solved. It’s about another woman who shouldn’t be sitting in jail. It’s about a killer who’s still out there.”
She dropped her briefcase on the conference table and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you. This has been a terrible weekend.”
“You haven’t had a drink, have you?” Ari asked fearfully.
“No,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the floor. “But I certainly wanted one.”
“Brian mentioned your brother’s birthday party got a little heated.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s an understatement. You know how my dad is. Yoli needed to leave it alone, but she couldn’t. She has to be right all the time. And she gave me an ultimatum about you.”
Ari bristled. “Which is?”
“Stop seeing you period. She doesn’t understand this. She sees you as a threat.” She shrugged. “I want to be completely honest with you. So there’s the whole truth.”
She felt her chest pounding. “Am I?” When Molly looked perplexed, she said, “Am I a threat to your relationship?”
She didn’t reply but she didn’t look away. Ari resisted the temptation to fly across the room and into her arms. While it was impossible to muster any concern for Yoli’s feelings, she remembered how depressed she’d been after she cheated on Molly.
Yet she needed an answer. Molly looked down at the rug and said, “I don’t know. I can’t answer that question right now. All I know is when I’m around you I feel good. When I’m around her, I feel insecure.” She froze and touched her hand to her head.
“Are you okay?”
“I just realized something incredibly important.”
Ari sat very still. She wasn’t even breathing.
“She makes me feel the way I used to feel with you.”
She was lost. “Is that good?”
“No. That’s the point. I used to feel completely inadequate with you. That’s why I drank, I thought. But I learned it was totally unrelated,” she quickly added. “I’ve learned how to feel better about myself and now I feel different around you.”
“How so?”
She wandered to the picture of Care and Jonny on the couch. “I feel like your equal.”
Ari threw up her hands. “You were always my equal, Molly.”
“That’s not how I felt. But it wasn’t because you did or didn’t do anything.”
“I just have to know if my being in your life is making you crave a drink.”
She shook her head adamantly. “I already told you. You don’t control my desires—”
“I know what you said.” She went to her and took her hand. “I’m asking if right now, standing here in my office, do you want a drink?”
She intertwined their fingers. “No. All I want is to spend the afternoon sleuthing with you, Ari Adams.”
She wasn’t ready for the kiss, and the shudder that coursed through her body was involuntary. Her knees went weak and Molly’s strong arms curled around her waist, keeping her upright. Their breasts collided and Molly’s tongue tantalized her mouth. She kneaded her curls, pulling her as close as possible.
She yearned for more and moaned when Molly’s hands slid down her back and caressed her buttocks, fanning the heat between her legs. Molly broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “I’m going to take you right here on the conference table,” before she pushed her down.
Papers swooshed about her as Molly unbuttoned, groped, unfastened, suckled and massaged. She hovered over her and studied her handiwork. Ari’s shirt was parted and her lacy black bra looked like a choker around her neck.
In a husky voice, Molly asked, “Have I told you how much I like you in skirts?”
Ari had fully reclaimed her feminine side and taken to wearing suits with skirts. She’d also made another change in lingerie, and as Molly drifted on top of her and explored underneath the A-line Christian Dior, she watched with amusement when her expression shifted from desire to complete surprise.
“What is this? Are you wearing underwear?”
“Sort of,” she said. “It’s called a cheekini. There’s not much to it and it’s very liberating. It also matches this bra that you’ve so carelessly tossed aside.” She freed herself from it and held it up for her inspection, but Molly flung it away and buried her face between Ari’s breasts.
Molly’s cell phone chimed and her expression shifted when she saw the caller’s name. She headed to a corner of the room and brushed her hair away from her face. Ari guessed it was Yoli and she wanted FaceTime.
“Hey,” Molly said seriously. “What’s up?”
“Drew and I are going out to canvass LGA for Third Friday. Come with us.”
She glanced in Ari’s direction and explained to Yoli that she wasn’t convinced Chynna Grove was the killer. When Yoli reminded her that Chynna had a strong motive and Rosenthal had fired her, they started to argue. Ari turned away and hopped off the conference table. Yoli’s timing was probably for the best. It was a reminder that Molly belonged to her. Although Ari couldn’t remember ever screaming at Molly the way Yoli was screaming at her now.
She began to re-dress, realizing she needed to undress in order to get her bra and nylons back on correctly. She pulled off her shirt and dropped her skirt to the floor. She felt horrible for Molly. She deserved so much more, whether it was Ari or someone else.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Yoli’s voice bellowed from the iPhone.
Ari whirled around, clad only in her black nylons and matching bra. Molly was staring at her, an expression of longing on her face, holding the iPhone out at an arm’s distance. Ari glanced at the exact spot where Yoli had taken Molly a few nights before. She struck a pose with her hand on her hip and a sly smile on her face.
“Molly!” Yoli bellowed and she jumped.
Her gaze locked on the phone but as the fight continued, she’d occasionally look up to catch a glimpse of Ari slowly leaning over the table to grab her dress shirt or bending down to pick up her skirt from the floor. Ari pretended she was at yoga class and overemphasized each languid movement, knowing every time Molly’s voice stumbled in the conversation it was because she was watching her. As she slid back into her pumps, she heard, “Fuck you!” and the room went silent.
When she looked up, Molly was making another call. Ari bit her lip. She’d gone too far. Molly glanced at her and she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Molly shook her head and held up a hand. “Hi, this is Molly Nelson. I’m at 1415 East Missouri, apartment four. I was wondering if you could get to my place this afternoon and change my locks? My next-door neighbor in number five is there and can let you in and pay you. Her name is Dorothy Lyons.” She paused as the locksmith spoke and then said, “Thanks.” She hung up and didn’t move.
Ari waited, not knowing what to do but certain this was a watershed moment.
Eventually Molly said, “My therapist says I need to be proactive about my life and not reactive. This is me being proactive.”
Ari felt a shiver down her back. She was tingling with desire and the wetness between her legs wouldn’t go away. She managed to say, “I feel like I should thank your therapist.”
“Her name is Dr. Yee. I’ll give you her address and you can send her a card.”
They cleaned up the scattered papers, and when their hands had nothing else to do, they went to each other. “It’s not too late to call the locksmith back.”
She caressed Ari’s cheeks and kissed her deeply. “Not a chance. And since you’ve put all of your clothes back on, I guess we should get to work.”
“I suppose,” Ari said. “Lorraine told me that Kacie is back from the reservation. Care to visit the Treehouse Bakery?”
Molly explained to Ari her latest theory as they drove to L
GA. “I think Ms. Wonders was following someone from the Rosenthal Group, probably Lev or Drew.”
“Your Drew? The one Yoli is going to meet right now?”
“Yes,” she said, holding up the parking decal. “Look at this. Obviously it’s supposed to be a peace sign but someone could mistake it for a pie.”
“I suppose that’s possible, but I think it’s equally plausible that pie day was a reference to Brooke.” She rolled down the window. “I’m sorry but I can’t concentrate. I’m not being a prude, but your truck stinks.”
“I know,” Molly said meekly. “I need to quit smoking. Yoli got me started and it’s out of hand.”
“I could give you some incentive.”
“Oh?”
She scanned the nearby traffic and when she was sure no other vehicles were nearby, she reached under her skirt and pulled off her cheekini. Molly’s eyes grew wide and flashed back and forth from the road to the lacy underwear.
“For every day you don’t smoke, you can keep these.” She opened the glove box and dropped them inside.
Molly’s face was red and it was obvious she was struggling to keep her composure. “How will you know I’m not cheating?”
“I guess I’ll have to kiss you.”
They drove through RoRo and pulled up in front of the Treehouse Bakery, which shared an old stucco building with the Diamond Boxing Gym and the Bikini Lounge. Ari noted their close proximity.
A little bell jingled as they opened the front door of the small bakery. A large display case stood between them and the stocky Native American woman on the other side whose braid stretched past her hips.
“Hi, Kacie?” Ari said warmly, extending her hand over the case. “I’m Ari and this is Molly. Lorraine said she’d mentioned us to you?”
“She did,” Kacie said simply. She didn’t seem pleased or displeased to see them, but Ari sensed a wariness of strangers.
“We heard that Ms. Wonders was one of your customers,” Molly said, pulling out her notepad and skipping all civilities.
“She was.”