Black letters on frosted glass spelled out her name and title. I knocked lightly. It rattled the glass, and I clenched my teeth. No response. I knocked again.
“Uh, yes, come in.” Karina looked up from the jumble of folders on her desk. “Michael, didn’t expect to see you at my door.”
The room was dark, lit only by a small brass lamp at the corner of her desk. Karina’s appearance startled me. Circles under her eyes were so dark—especially against her ashen skin—it appeared she’d applied eye-black. She placed her head between her hands, resting her elbows on the cluttered desk. She looked exhausted, and her movements were stiff.
“I know you have a lot going on, but I wanted to ask about your strategy in covering Tiffany’s murder.” She straightened her back and appeared annoyed.
“Michael, I know you have some skin in the game here with what you saw, but we’re not going to jump every time we get a little more information.” Karina rearranged folders and papers with no apparent purpose. I didn’t turn away. She continued.
“People want to see variety in their hometown newspaper. We don’t have the resources for a reporter to focus solely on one story. This isn’t the Boston Globe.”
“Okay, I don’t like it, but I understand.” I didn’t want to push her too far. “How are you doing? Is everything okay with your mom and on the home front?” Her eyes shifted toward me, and she held the gaze for a few seconds. I wished I could have taken back the last phrase. I looked down and acted like I’d received an email on my phone.
“I have work to do.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. Every move was pronounced as she walked toward me and the door. “Frankly, Michael, I am sick and tired of everyone asking me all these fucking questions. I’m the journalist. I ask the questions.”
She ushered me out the door.
“So, for now, you and everyone else can get back to their Christmas shopping and leave the newspaper business to those of us who have a fucking clue!” She slammed her office door so hard it blew my hair.
Chapter Seventeen
With my hands full of four grocery bags, Marisa jumped at the opportunity to spank my butt. As soon as I set the bags on the counter, she grabbed my face and gave me a huge smooch.
I leaned forward for a follow-up kiss, assuming it would lead to a spontaneous lovemaking session.
“Hey there, big boy, I just wanted you to remember who butters your bread. You’ll get the main course tomorrow night, if you’re lucky.” She winked and smiled as she turned to put away the groceries. Marisa always seemed to know when I needed a little levity added to the mix, and this was one of those times.
We took our usual positions on the couch and I told Marisa about my day, including the disturbing interaction with Karina. “It was as if she had been replaced by her evil sister.”
“That doesn’t sound like the same career-minded, sweet woman we know,” Marisa said. “I’m not sure she has anyone to lean on. Maybe she and I can have a ladies night out.”
I propped my legs on Marisa’s lap, signaling my desire for a foot rub.
“Oh, yuck, baby. Your feet are sweaty,” she said, rolling my socks off and flapping them against my clammy toes. “Was it a tense day at work worrying about the PHC acquisition?”
“I suppose. And the lack of information on the murder investigation. But I need to tell you about my experience at the police department.”
I went through all the details from my meeting with the two detectives. While I’d been dreading the questioning and reliving the entire ordeal, I told Marisa about the mental journey I took for those thirty minutes. How, in the end, I felt more relieved than anxious. I also explained my feelings about this indefinable connection with Tiffany’s spirit.
Marisa ran her hand up my shin and massaged my calf muscle. She understood why I needed to represent Tiffany, or her spirit, to find out who killed her and why.
“Michael, I really appreciate you opening up and letting me inside that precious skull of yours. You have no idea how much it means.” She brushed her hand through my hair.
Intimate moments come in all shapes and sizes, and at the most unpredictable times.
Chapter Eighteen
I twisted the bottle around and studied a silver and blue wine label at the local wine store a couple of hours before the Christmas party. It was the ninth bottle I’d examined, hoping a tempting phrase or label design would spark a decision. Marisa and I had agreed it would add to the holiday spirit for us to take a small gift to the party tonight. We knew we couldn’t come close to matching the level of wine in the Taylor cellar. But, given the season, it was the right thing to do.
I kept it safe, deciding on a northern California wine, a cabernet. Something Marisa and I would enjoy if the Taylors ever invited us over. Like that would ever happen.
***
After wrapping up the bottle and putting on a holiday tie, I sat in my leather chair and caught a few minutes of the Army-Navy football game. Great tradition, but not an entertaining matchup.
“Hey baby, how’s it going in there?” I wondered which dress she’d chosen.
The phone rang.
“Hello.” I looked over my shoulder for any signs of red heels.
“Hey, son, it’s Pop.”
Marisa and I had traveled up to his farm to take care of him when he had gallbladder surgery about eighteen months ago, but I hadn’t spoken to Pop much in the last year.
“Pop, how’s it going?”
“I just wanted to check on my number one son.”
Ever since Mom died, we found little to say to each other. “It’s been a challenging week in some respects.”
“To be honest, Michael, that gal of yours called me. I really appreciate Marisa letting me know when something is wrong.”
That was code for, “Why didn’t you call me, son?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
Pop had raised me on a short rope. He defined hard work as the foundation for any life worth living. That was drilled into my head at a young age. Usually, I had seen things the same way, aside from a few rebellious teenage moments. I could recall many hot summers putting up barbed wire fence around his one-hundred-acre property. The sun scorched me, but the blisters on my hands and soreness in my shoulders from digging fence posts always did me in before the heat. It was difficult work, beyond tedious, but it helped instill in me a lifelong work ethic. Then Marisa taught me what’s most important—human relationships, starting with the one I shared with her.
“I’m sure you have it all under control,” Pop said.
That might be a stretch, I thought.
“I just wanted to call to say hello and make sure that knock on your head didn’t have you forgetting about your pop. Just know I love you, son. And, if you ever need another ear, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Pop. I appreciate the call. I love you too.”
I was surprised by his phone call and was reminded he had softened since I was young. You never know where relationships will take you. And with that one phone conversation I felt more comfortable picking up the phone in the future and calling Pop if, or when, I needed him.
“Hey, Doyle, you still out there?” Marisa called.
“Yes, but you forced me to watch the Army-Navy game. Now, I have to stay to watch the end. We’ll have to blow off the party and sit around here and eat leftovers.”
“Ha-ha!”
She sauntered into the living room. Hello, dress number three. I stood there with my mouth open.
“You know it’s still the same package. It’s just wrapped a little differently.” She flipped around, showing off the backless dress.
“Holy smokes, baby. Forget the Army-Navy game. Hell, forget the damn party. Do you want to stay home tonight?”
“Patience is a virtue, my dear, and one you need to work on.” She gave me a wink. “Besides, we’ve already bought the wine. It would be rude of us not to go and give them our holiday gift.”
We
laughed, knowing our bottle of wine might get thrown out with the scraps from the party.
This being a special occasion, I opened her car door for her. I started my old Accord, which took a while to heat up. Marisa shivered from the chill in the air, but had insisted on only wearing a new, stylish black wrap.
“So, who was on the phone?”
“It was someone you’ve been talking to, you double agent,” I joked. “It was Pop.”
She said her concern for me made her think we needed to reach out to Pop more often. She knew he’d like to know more about what was going on in his son’s life.
“Do you know he asked me if we were married yet?” Marisa said. “He actually thought we’d tie the knot without letting him know.”
“I just get so wrapped up in our lives. I shouldn’t forget about the people who care about me.”
Marisa squeezed my hand. I needed it back to shift into reverse. The brakes squeaked as I slowed and slid the gear into drive. “It would be great to trade in this piece of junk for a shiny, new car.”
“What’s your latest dream car?”
“I saw J&W’s sister the other day in her luxury sedan.” I pictured myself behind the wheel of her car. “It was the new Jaguar XFR. I looked up the color when I got home, Frost Blue Metallic. In this case, I think the color describes the driver. Her name’s Victoria, right?”
“That’s it. Last year, she was a little on the cold side when we met her. She’s been milking her family’s money for years. I’m not sure she’s worked a day in her life. She was certainly raised differently than how Pop raised you.”
We drove without much talking, taking the highway five miles outside of town to the entrance of the estate. Holiday lights glistened from the mansion, even though the tree-lined driveway must have been a half-mile long.
“If you ever hit it big, you can have one of those cars. But before we spend eighty grand on a car, it would be nice to have a rock on this finger.”
At another time, Marisa’s comment might have led to a deeper discussion on some of my issues. Not tonight. She only meant to provide a subtle reminder of my priorities. I didn’t take her for granted—at least I didn’t think so, especially after she’d been so protective and nurturing to me during this difficult week.
Tonight was a night to forget about long-term decisions and the stress and drama of the last week. We deserved to be pampered for one night, and we might as well do it on the Taylor family’s dime. We pulled up to the valet stand.
Chapter Nineteen
A horse-drawn carriage off to the left of the driveway was already busy taking on passengers for a tour of the estate grounds. Matching red blankets with silver bells were draped over the backs and down the barrels of each horse. The pair breathed in tandem. Their steam drifted upward and disappeared into the starry, nighttime sky.
Marisa and I paused for a moment to say hello to two couples outside, then turned to gaze at the mansion’s amazing light display. Thinking about one of the glitzy spectacles in Las Vegas, I wondered how many white lights it took to outline such a massive home.
“Thousands, possibly millions,” I said.
“What?” Marisa said, pinching my waist. “You’re so silly.”
Inside, our first stop was the punch table, which sat next to the bar. Paula and her husband, Greg, were both attempting to use the ladle without spilling Christmas red punch on the white tablecloth.
It didn’t take long for Marisa to draw rave reviews on her dress selection.
“Wow, Marisa, you know how to make an entrance.” Paula took a step back to take in the entire outfit.
Greg and I shook hands, bantering about something we wouldn’t recall the next day. I glanced at all of Marisa’s beauty wrapped up in a sexy package and knew that Greg wouldn’t say a word. It was part of the unspoken code between guys. But I knew what he and every other guy who wasn’t gay were thinking. “Good Lord, your girlfriend is the hottest piece of ass I’ve seen since college.”
It made me smile. Marisa wasn’t a showoff. She just had confidence. As Pop would say, she’s definitely the kind of girl you’d want to hitch your wagon to.
New arrivals continued to enter the mansion. At times, I hardly recognized my colleagues. Some of the women must have applied a couple of inches of additional makeup. Holiday jazz music had me snapping my fingers. The atmosphere was certainly festive.
“Well, hello, Michael.” William extended his hand. His brother, Jeffrey, stood next to him, appearing a bit more social than usual.
“It’s Marisa, isn’t it?” Jeffrey took her hand. “Dear Lord, this must be the most beautiful outfit I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Marisa gave me a quick half-roll of her eyes, obviously embarrassed over the spotlight that was shining directly on her. I thought it was hilarious, and I had to hold back a laughing snort. I thought more about Jeffrey’s eyes lighting up as he assessed the outfit. Given the flamboyant comment, I had just come to the conclusion that Jeffrey was gay—not that it mattered. But I had to share the gossip with someone, so I whispered my revelation to Marisa as we walked over to the hors d'oeuvre line.
My stomach growled as I eyed the plethora of choices from a distance. At least twenty other partiers in front of us were taking their sweet-ass time, ambling like drunken elephants. I glanced to my right and caught the profile of the son of the big dog, Harrison, turning a corner. The heir to the throne was a spitting image of his father—a pudgy nose, wide-set, hazel eyes, and sandy hair color. Even his gait matched his father’s. But he had a different personality. Remarkably, Harrison seemed more aware of people and their emotions, and as a result, he wasn’t nearly the snob. We all knew the family had been trying to marry him off for years, but they couldn’t find a girl at the same status level. And Harrison wasn’t going to marry a cow—unless she was a member of the uber elite.
Chapter Twenty
Harrison roamed through the maze of rooms and corridors searching for his aunt. He knew she’d want to revel in the accolades on the decorated house and Christmas party. When she assumed responsibility for the party planning, this became one of the top social events of the year. He took the back stairs to the third floor and walked down a long hallway, flipped a left, then finally made his way to her suite. He rapped on her partially closed door, then nudged it open.
“Aunt Victoria, are you in here?”
He saw the doors to her balcony partially opened, the sheers covering the French doors shimmering from the breeze. He approached the outside doors and heard his aunt’s voice.
“…time element involved on this deal.” Victoria looked across the south lawn with her back to him.
Harrison hesitated. He was afraid he’d walked in on a conversation he wasn’t intended to hear. He was in a no-win situation. If he tried to leave, she might hear him and accuse him of eavesdropping. Then again, if he tapped her on her shoulder, she might think the same thing. He froze and couldn’t help but overhear at this point. “Listen here, Mr. Hagard, you tell your brother I want a meeting next week, no more delays.” Harrison could hear her intensity. Despite the cool air drifting in from the open balcony doors, he started to perspire.
“I recognize the need for caution. You can let him know, besides getting an update on how we’re handling the mess from this past week, I want a plan that allows the drilling to start in no more than two months. I know, I know. I’ll have more work on my end dealing with my naïve brothers. But don’t forget I conceived this idea. I brought all of us together. I’m fully capable of fulfilling my role. I hope everyone else can do the same. Good evening, Mr. Hagard.”
Harrison had been slowly backpedaling to the bedroom door. He closed it partially just as she ended her conversation and reentered her bedroom.
Aunt Victoria had never been a warm person. Harrison remembered back when he was a youngster, she rarely played with him or went to any of his Pee Wee football games, but he didn’t get the impression she had any type of ulterior evil motive.
Now, he had all sorts of thoughts and questions running through his head. It was possible his impression was far different than the intent because he only heard one side of the conversation. He raced down to rejoin the party. Harrison needed a stiff drink while he processed what he’d heard.
***
Before Victoria could make her grand entrance to the party downstairs, her phone vibrated. Oh now what? she thought, seeing it was Chuck Hagard’s brother, David, calling her again.
“Victoria, I just wanted you to know that I understand the stress this might be causing you. But you are a visionary leader, and because of that I believe you’ll help guide this operation to its ultimate objective. I just wanted to thank you.”
Victoria paused. Did he think she needed her ego stroked?
“Mr. Hagard, rather David, thank you for the kind words, but throwing out praise right now is not necessary, and, frankly, will only distract us from reaching our goal.” She wanted to rip into him, but she kept her exasperation to herself. David, she thought, was a capable real estate dealmaker, but a bit fragile, unlike his more seasoned brother.
“Please let me know the date and time of our meeting. Goodbye, sir.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I think it’s time we freshen up our drinks, my princess.” The ice in my drink jingled against the Waterford crystal, adding to the celebratory ambiance.
“It’s okay, baby. I only need this one drink. You have as many as you want tonight. I’ll take the keys. Just don’t forget the prize at the end of the night.” Marisa leaned up to kiss my cheek, then nibbled at my ear.
I envisioned Marisa later teasing me with a sultry strip act, leading to a steamy lovemaking session. Before I knew it, I was at the bar. Harrison and I arrived at the same time. “I’ll take a whiskey and Coke,” Harrison told the bartender on the left. “No, make that a double and take out the Coke.”
GREED Box Set (Books 1-4) Page 5