by April Cronin
“About what time did she leave?”
“Hell, I dunno, about midnight I guess. I was done with her by then, told her she couldn't stay the night. She didn't take it personally; I can assure you she was completely fine with my asking her to leave.” He pinned Darla with another one of those cocky grins of his, acting as though his blasé attitude towards women was perfectly acceptable. “So what is this all about?” He asked, looking back at Allen.
“I'll get to that in a minute son, just a few more questions.” Allen flipped a couple pages, then continued. “Last night, you were at McDonough's again with Peter, is that right?”
“Yeah, we go there like once a week.”
“And did you see Ms. Orsini, er um, the young lady there last night?”
Andre thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don't recall seeing her.”
“So you didn't see her, maybe her and her friend talking to Peter?”
“No. I just said I didn't see her, and I certainly didn't see her with Peter. Hell, he wasn't even there that long, he had like two, maybe three beers and left. Would you please tell me what this is all about?”
Sighing, Allen prepared himself for the outrage he knew was coming. “The young lady has accused Mr. Petrovic of sexual assault.”
Andre was silent a moment, the anger quickly registering on his face though, and then he exploded. “That stupid bitch,” he spat.
“There's no need for name calling,” Allen tried to interject.
“Are you fucking kidding me? That little slut was in my house, in my bed, and then she goes and accuses Peter of fucking rape?”
“Nobody said rape son.”
“Rape, assault, what the fuck's the difference? And don't give me a damn lesson,” he charged on, before either could speak. “I know there's a fucking difference, but not when it comes to our career's, ones as bad as the other. But I get it now...oh I fucking get it now.” He was practically seething he was so mad, pacing behind the chair, he threw his hands up. “That fucking bitch!”
Darla caught that last part, latching onto it. “What do you mean you get it?” she asked, looking to her partner and then back at Andre.
Andre wheeled on her, his face contorted with rage, “What?” he growled.
“You said, 'I get it now,' what did you mean by that?” she inquired more slowly.
“Oh…she uh, she was asking questions about Peter that night.”
“Which night?” Allen chimed in, holding his pencil at the ready.
“The night I brought the little bitch home.”
“And what kind of questions was she asking?”
“I don't know. Something about whether or not he had a girlfriend. I could tell when she first walked up that she was interested in Peter, most women are, he's got that whole brooding thing going for him, and his eyes, the ladies love his eyes. Whatever though, he left, and I told her not to worry about him. But she was asking all these questions on the way back to my place. Asked about his contract,” He was still pacing, growing more agitated. “Peter just re-signed at the end of the season, forty-two million I think. This is about his money, isn't it?” He asked, pinning his gaze on Allen. “That little bitch set him up!”
Darla groaned, yeah, this case just went to hell.
Andre kept looking from one to the other, willing either of them to answer his questions. Darla looked pissed, and Allen looked decidedly uncomfortable, but it was he who finally spoke.
“Why do you think she would go after Peter? You say you had sex with her, why not try and go after you?” He asked, the wheels in his own head turning.
Andre shrugged, “I'm a restricted free agent this offseason, we haven't come to deal yet. I might still get traded.”
“Did uh, did she know that?” Allen asked, both he and Darla's eyes trained on Andre, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah,” he said a minute later. “Yeah, I'd mentioned it. She acted all sympathetic, like she hoped I wasn't traded, said she was a big fan.” He seemed to deflate a little, leaning over the chair and squeezing the top of the cushion. “Fuck. Poor Peter.”
Darla cut in then, “so you don't think Peter is capable of something like this?” she asked, trying to remain calm, though inside she was reeling.
“Peter?” He said, shaking his head. “No way. You've met him right?” the question was rhetorical. “There's no way Peter would do that.”
“And what makes you so sure? He seemed like a pretty angry guy to me.”
“What are you dense? Some little tart accuses him of assault and you think he shouldn't be angry? I'm pissed off and I'm not the one in the hot seat! Of course he's angry! But God, you'd have to be an idiot if you honestly think Peter is capable of hurting a woman!”
“We don't know him like you do son.” Allen informed him, “we're just trying to get your opinion on the matter.”
“You want my opinion? Fine, here it is, you got it.” Andre said, his voice flat, his eyes cold. “She's lying. Peter grew up in Russia, things are different over there. Women in Russia are taught to be subservient, it's been that way forever, so there would be no need for a guy like Peter to have to be forceful. Not to mention the fact that his mother is some famous ice skater, and he was raised with two sisters, he grew up around women. Nice, loving, women. Peter's shy, it's not an act, believe me. I think he's been with like two girls his whole life. So yeah, I think she's lying. I think she got mad when he didn't show any interest in her, and then she found out how much money he's worth, and she wants a piece of him. Probably figures he'll pay her off to make it all go away. That's my opinion.” He said the last with a lot of bite, causing both detectives to flinch.
“I uh, I think that's enough for now,” Allen advised, rising, and motioning with his head that Darla do the same.
“Good,” Andre said, his tone clipped. “You can see yourselves out.” He stalked down the hall, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 9
Summer Nights
William, “Bill” Chilson, was not a very big man.
That was Peter's first thought later that evening when he came upon the table at Marlin Monroe's and saw Harmony with her father. They both stood as he arrived, taking a seat next to Harmony who sat across from her father. Bill probably wasn't much more than 5'7, with a head full of gray hair, and a short beard in a slightly lighter shade. His face was pleasant though, his eyes inquisitive, and his mind, sharp as a tack.
Peter liked him on sight.
Harmony loved the fact that her father and Peter had hit it off so quickly, and it was so nice to see him smiling and laughing after what had clearly been a very taxing day for him. Her father's good mood seemed to be infectious, pulling Peter in before he ever even had a chance.
And why shouldn't her father be happy? After all, they'd just agreed on a deal that would make them a substantial amount of money!
After talking things over with her lawyer, who actually happened to be a cousin of Bill's, Harmony had asked her father to come into the city and meet her for drinks. They'd ended up staying at her place, draining a bottle of wine together as they looked over the deal and discussed all the pros and cons. To which they agreed it made plenty of sense, and decided selling the land around the building wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
The contract had stipulated that when the developer chose to build onto their existing structure, after an initial inspection, in which the Chilson's would be responsible for any needed repairs, they would agree to the exterior maintenance of the HomeTown Grocery Mart in the future as well as their own buildings.
In the long run, it would be cheaper for them to buy the property, and maintain the exterior of the grocery store, rather than rent the property from the Chilson's and building onto it. It seemed like a win-win to them. They got to keep their business, put away a large nest egg, make improvements if they wanted to, and in the event that they weren't able to keep their heads above water at any point, they could always sell off the
remaining building. In addition to all that, their taxes would be less, and they wouldn't have to worry about the upkeep of either the property or the exterior of the building. What wasn't to like about that?
So they'd called Mr. Maclavoy, and after debating on the price for about fifteen minutes, they were able to squeeze a few thousand more out of the deal, they entered into a verbal agreement. Maclavoy telling them he'd get the new documents drafted up and sent out at his earliest convenience. So tonight, well, tonight was a celebration of sorts. All of their financial troubles were over…for now.
All she had left to do at this point was go over staffing concerns and finish making changes to the products and services they provided. She still had a few items in mind that she was thinking about eliminating. And since her father was satisfied that the company would be in good hands from here on out, he'd already told her she was to be the general manager, effective immediately, he was retiring, so now she just needed to hire herself an assistant manager, and maybe a couple more shift supervisors, or at least one and a lead cashier. That way she could make more time for other things.
Like Peter.
And gosh he looked good tonight.
From the moment he'd entered the restaurant, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. He was dressed casually, but the overall effect was still staggering to her senses. Peter had on a fitted t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, outlining his pectorals and the distinct shape of his abdominals, the color of it was a dark blue almost black really with white lettering, something in Russian she assumed as she couldn't read it herself. And as her eyes traveled the length of his torso, where the shirt tapered to his lean waist, and the light wash of jeans that hung low on them, she felt suddenly hungry, and it had nothing to do with the food.
He finished his look off by carrying a brown leather bombers jacket over one shoulder by a finger, and though he wasn't wearing his aviators, he still reminded Harmony of a pilot, circa Tom Cruise, which made her wonder whether he'd driven his little Honda or had ridden here on the Ducati. Either way, it took all of Harmony's will power to hide her lust for this man from her father. She certainly didn't want to risk embarrassing herself.
Harmony had herself worn a sort of sundress this evening, going for comfort, it was long, went nearly past her ankles, but not so long that she was walking on it, and was the color of the sun. Bright oranges, deep yellows and hints of all the shades in between. It was a swirl of colors, each melting into the next in a line pattern that started at the lightest yellow and darkened into a deep red-orange at the bottom. Thanks to her ample bosom Harmony had no need for straps, her breasts were more than enough to keep the dress up, and as such it was snug at the top, though no cleavage was exposed, and it gracefully flared and billowed once past her chest.
“You look very nice this evening.” Peter had whispered to her at one point while her father was ordering his food.
Harmony blushed, her father looked over, raising an eyebrow, but continued to tell the waitress how he wanted his fish to be blackened.
“So Peter,” Bill asked once the waitress was gone. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”
Harmony nearly choked on her sweet tea, “dad!” she yelped, drawing a shrug from him.
Peter's face seemed to flush, he looked down for a minute, then turned and faced Harmony, his gaze penetrating hers, the color of his eyes shifting from light to dark. “I do not know sir.” he began, turning then to face Bill. “Harmony and I are just getting to know each other. We are, how you say, taking our time.”
Sighing inwardly, Harmony relaxed by a few degrees, allowing her stiff shoulders to slump a little, but she still pinned her father with a glare that would have killed him had it been a knife. Daring him to continue down this path.
“Sorry Harm!” he exclaimed, “a dad's got a right to know!”
Peter laughed, Harmony buried her face in her hands, and then lucky for her, the conversation turned to hockey.
Despite their small town lifestyle, Bill was an avid fan of sports, all sports, and followed the Slashers pretty regularly. He'd watched the playoffs, trying on multiple accounts to drag Harmony before the TV as well, and from time to time during the regular season he went to games with one of the ladies from work.
Harmony's brother was a big hockey fan too, though, living in south Florida, he was a Panthers fan. She could remember the last time they were up visiting, Craig's wife Janice had dragged Harmony to that event up at the Slashers' rink, buying Harmony that calendar as a souvenir. Which, now that she thought about it, she probably owed her a thank you for that, she wouldn't have recognized who Peter was had she not owned that calendar, and perhaps their conversation wouldn't have ended the way it had.
Eventually, they started talking about his teammates, and the fact that Dean actually owned one of the condos in the building next door, however, he and his wife were still up north somewhere, due back sometime next week Peter had said. And then her father started asking all sorts of questions about the offseason, and what Peter did to stay in shape.
Most of what they talked about bored Harmony senseless, and she was happy for a distraction once their food arrived. Marlin's, a place named after Marilyn Monroe, being that their mascot with a sailfish in a billowing white dress, was a nice enough place right on the beach. The atmosphere was good, the food even better. Harmony had ordered herself a burger, biting into it with such voraciousness that she blushed when both men looked her way and smirked.
Peter had gone with fish tacos, and her father had gotten the catch of the day. Harmony was the only one eating red meat, and though there was a bit of blood dripping down the side of her wrist, and the men stared at her openly from time to time as they ate their own meals, Harmony didn't give damn.
She was hungry, maybe a little hungrier for Peter at this point than the burger, but to keep herself from running off at the mouth and all but demanding they stop boring her with sports talk, she figured her best bet was to just stuff her face. And it was working, for the moment.
Once they had all finished eating, waving off desert, and Peter having picked up the tab, despite Bill's loud protests, the moment that Harmony had been dreading all evening finally arrived.
“I uh, I take it you'll be leaving with Peter?” Her father asked, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.
Peter looked at her with a hopeful smile, “You did not drive your own car?”
She shook her head, “no, I came with my dad.” Then she turned to her father, “and yeah, I guess if Peter doesn't mind, I'll let him take me home. Probably easier for you to just hop on the interstate then huh?”
“It would be a little easier,” They both looked expectantly at Peter, “if Peter doesn't mind.”
“No, is fine with me.”
“Alright then, I guess I'll leave you two alone, it was great meeting you Peter, I hope to see you again soon,” Bill said, extending his hand and shaking Peters.
“Thank you sir, it was very nice to meet you too.”
And then they were alone.
Harmony looked at the empty plate in front of her, then picked up her sweet tea, draining the rest of the glass as she looked over her shoulder and out at the ocean beyond.
When clearing his throat didn't work to get her attention, Peter put a hand on her thigh, causing Harmony to jump as she was startled by his touch.
“Would you like to go for walk on the beach?” He asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.
She nodded, to stricken to speak. Peter smiled, a slow grin, and standing, held out a hand to her, helping her from her chair and then leading her toward the stairs and down to the warm sandy beach below.
They walked along the coastline for a few minutes, hand in hand, silently. And then, because Harmony was still looking out at the water, she nearly stumbled when Peter stopped abruptly. Turning to face him, she found her arm extended uncomfortably as she noticed that he had plopped down on the sand, sitting at her feet, his legs outstr
etched, crossed at the ankles, his free hand, the one not holding hers, braced behind him.
“What are you doing?” she laughed, falling to her knees in the sand beside him.
He reached up with the hand that had been holding hers, tucking some loose hair behind her ear, and then skimming his finger along her cheek. “The sand is warm no? Seemed like nice place to sit down.”
She nodded, curling her legs under her so that she sat sideways next to him, her knees touching his thigh. He continued to stroke the side of her face, the gentle ocean breeze causing goosebumps to rise on her arms as it floated across them, a direct contrast to the heat of his touch.
“You are cold,” Peter said suddenly, noticing the small bumps on her body. He sat up, reached behind him and grabbed his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. “Is this better?”
“Yes.” she sighed, as the smell of him surrounded her.
Harmony wondered if she was dreaming. It was all so perfect. The cool night air, the stars twinkling in the sky, the warm sand, the sound of the ocean as the waves lapped against the shore. And Peter. Oh, Peter. He was so ethereal looking. God-like. Yes, like a Norse god. The light of the moon played over his features in a way that made him almost fragile in appearance, though she knew his body was anything but. A powerful machine is what he was. She knew if she touched him now, the muscles under his shirt would ripple and tighten. Flexing beneath her fingertips.
Whoa.
Harmony shivered, though thankfully Peter didn't notice as he looked out at the ocean. Harmony was losing it. Her grip on reality. Peter was a man, an ordinary man. It was just the desire coloring her vision, blinding her of rational thought. But what are you waiting for? She asked herself. Hadn't Peter been an open book so far? Telling her anything she wanted to know about himself. Hadn't he passed inspection with her father? Her co-workers even?