“Hold on, Jack. One question at a time. Wasn’t Sal killed by his bookie?”
“Nothing’s been proven.”
“I think you might be jumping to conclusions. Everybody in that neighborhood knew Sal was dead five minutes after he was shot. As I recall, it’s not the best part of town. Of course some crackheads are going to break into his office if they know it’s empty. But they’re not looking for files or paintings or anything like that. They’re looking for money or something they can turn into money quick.”
“What about the file? Benny’s file was missing.”
“So were several others. They ransacked the place. I’m surprised they only took or destroyed five files. I think you’re overreacting a little.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
49
For some strange reason, Jack felt compelled to have dinner at La Taqueria that night. He arrived around seven. Molly was already there, sitting at a table for two under the Tips Up, Aspen Colorado sign. She waved to him when she saw him standing by the front door.
Lisa, the owner, saw the wave. “Looks like there’s an empty seat at that table, Jack,” she said to him, looking over at the seat across from Molly.
“It looks that way,” Jack replied. “I’d better check it out.” He walked over to Molly’s table. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Molly said with a smile.
Rose was their waitress. She didn’t look happy to see Jack sitting with another woman.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked rather perfunctorily.
“I’ll have one of those.” Jack pointed to Molly’s margarita.
It was a lovely first dinner. Jack had two quick margaritas to calm his nerves. After that, he listened while Molly told him about her work. He noticed that she didn’t say much, if anything at all, about her personal life.
She was a regional manager for a pharmaceutical company headquartered in New York City. Her territory was the entire Southeast, and one week a month she traveled to different areas to visit her sales force.
“When I decided I needed a break, I had already been here in Florida for a week, and I’d passed through Bass Creek two days before. It was the first place that popped into my mind,” she said.
“So you’re looking for seclusion, and your first night somebody invites himself to dinner,” Jack replied.
“Nonsense, Jack!” she protested. She looked very pretty in a brightly colored sundress. “I’m enjoying the company.”
After dinner he walked her back to the Bass Creek Hotel. It was a lovely clear night. The moon was three-quarters full and a slight breeze was blowing.
“It must be so nice to live in a place like this. It’s such a far cry from New York City,” Molly said.
“There’s still room,” Jack replied.
“You know how it is, Jack. New York is where the money is.”
“I hear you. Not much industry in Bass Creek, and frankly, I hope it stays that way.”
They were standing in front of the hotel now. Jack said good night and started to walk away.
“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow,” Molly yelled to him.
“I’ll be there.”
Jack finished his run rather quickly the next morning and skipped the swim altogether. Bill and Eddie were already at the Pelican when he arrived, sitting in a booth toward the back. Jack sat at his usual spot at the counter.
“Are you going to be around next winter?” Eddie asked Bill.
“What kind of a question is that?” Bill asked.
“I was just wondering because I have a nice winter coat I want to give you.”
“Well, the only place I’d be if I wasn’t here next winter is six feet under, and you know that,” Bill replied.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Well, you tell me where I’d be if I wasn’t here next winter,” Bill persisted.
Eddie just smiled. “I guess you’d be gone.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bill replied. “What kind of question is that to ask anyone?”
Eddie looked over at Jack. “Jack, help me out here, will ya? I just want to tell him I have a nice winter coat for him.”
Just then Hannah set down Jack’s coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins—his regular breakfast. “Eddie,” she interrupted before Jack had a chance to reply, “you said it. Now you have to live with it.” Hannah always took Uncle Bill’s side.
“But I just wanted to give Bill a coat,” Eddie pleaded.
“And you can’t give a coat to a dead man,” Bill put in grumpily. “That’s what you were saying.”
Jack couldn’t tell if Bill was serious or not. Bill liked to toy with Eddie. “I don’t think he meant anything by it, Uncle Bill.”
“You don’t think so, Jack?”
“No.”
“Okay then. Yes, Eddie, I plan on being around next winter, but no I don’t want a coat from you. Who knows where you got it from? Jack, do you know the other day he bought a shirt from a bum on the street? I mean, right off the man’s back!”
“It was a nice shirt,” Eddie protested. “I washed it five times.”
Just then Molly came in the front door. She was dressed in blue shorts and a white tank top. Jack couldn’t help but focus on her lithe figure as she walked down the aisle between the counter and the booths and sat right next to him.
“Good morning, Jack.”
“Good morning, Molly. How are they treating you over there at the hotel?”
“Very well, although I haven’t tried their breakfast yet. I prefer the atmosphere right here.”
“So, what big vacation plans do you have today?” Jack asked after Molly had placed her order.
“I was thinking of taking a ride over to the east coast. It’s less than an hour from here, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Are you sick of Bass Creek already?”
“Absolutely not. I just thought I might like to spend a few hours at the ocean. As a matter of fact, I know this may sound a little forward, but I was thinking of asking you to come with me if you weren’t too busy.”
Jack felt a shiver of apprehension. “I’d love to,” he told her. “Unfortunately, I’ve got some work to do.”
Molly was clearly disappointed. “At least let me take you out to dinner tonight since you paid for me last night.”
Dinner was okay. Dinner he could handle. “That would be great. Where would you like to go?”
“How about the hotel? Everybody says their steaks are good.”
“They are. How about I meet you there at, say, seven?”
“Excellent!”
Neither one of them had noticed that all other conversation had stopped as Bill, Eddie, and Hannah—who had lingered within earshot after bringing Molly’s order—all eavesdropped on their conversation.
Having surrendered to dinner once again, Jack made his exit.
When he arrived at the office, Jack immediately called Dr. Donald Wong in San Francisco.
“He’s very busy,” Dr. Wong’s secretary told Jack. “I’ll have to ask him to call you back.” Jack provided the incentive for a prompt return call.
“Would you tell him that Jack Tobin called? I’m the new attorney on the Benny Avrile case. He might have seen the story about the case in the New York Times on Sunday. I want to find out if he’s still interested in being an expert for us.”
Jack had taken Bruce Sentner’s opinion about Dr. Wong to heart. He had no intention of using him as an expert. The documentary evidence the doctor had prepared—the charts and diagrams—were another story altogether.
His ploy worked. Mentioning the New York Times got Dr. Wong’s attention. If a big-shot lawyer was representing Benny Avrile, then there was more money to be had in the way of expert witness fees. Dr. Wong called Jack thirty minutes later. They arranged to meet in San Francisco to discuss the case and go over the exhibits the following Saturday.
When he hung up the ph
one, Jack typed a letter to Dr. Wong confirming the meeting and also requesting that the good doctor have all the exhibits ready for him to see. Finally, he confirmed that Dr. Wong had already been paid six thousand dollars for his services to date. He finished with the words, If there is anything in this letter that we did not discuss or is inaccurate, please notify me immediately. He then sent the letter next-day delivery before calling Henry.
“We’re going to New York on Thursday night and San Francisco on Saturday morning.”
“For what?”
“I’ll brief you on the way.”
“You’re sure you need me?”
“I’m sure.”
“You know I hate to fly. I’ve already been to New York once.”
“I know. I was with you.”
“You’re sure? All the way to San Francisco?”
“Especially San Francisco.”
The restaurant at the Bass Creek Hotel was like a slice of Old Florida. The oak paneling looked and felt like it had been there since the days of Andy Jackson. The ornate bar was made of oak as well, as were the tables and the floor. The chairs were leather. The long-stemmed fans hanging from the twenty-foot-high ceiling added to the atmosphere. It had once been a place where the upper crust convened, and it held a little of that feeling still.
“I love this place,” Molly told Jack when they were seated.
“It’s been here a long time,” Jack said. “Years ago, this was the place for a steak and a good cigar.”
“A man’s place,” Molly replied. “All you need to do is look around to see that.”
The waitress took their drink order. Jack had Wild Turkey neat. He never drank bourbon except when he was in the bar or the dining room at the Bass Creek Hotel. It was a bourbon type of place. Molly had white wine.
“So, how was the beach?” Jack asked.
“Oh Jack, it was terrific. It was a beautiful day. I spent the whole afternoon bodysurfing and I’m going back tomorrow.”
“I guess your love affair with Bass Creek is definitely over now.”
“Not at all. I’ll be here until next Wednesday. Jack, why don’t you come over tomorrow afternoon and swim with me?”
“I’d love to, but I have to go to New York the day after tomorrow, and I have some work to do before I leave.”
“That’s the second time you’ve given me the ‘I’d love to but’ routine, and we’ve only known each other for two days. I’m starting to get a complex.”
“I guess I could drive over for a few hours, swim, and have dinner and be back here at a decent hour. We don’t fly out until Thursday evening.”
“Great! How long are you in New York? I’ll be back there next week.”
“I have a hearing on Friday, then I’m headed for San Francisco.”
“I must be slipping. I should have found this information out already. Are you a lawyer, Jack?”
“Yeah, I’m representing a guy named Benny Avrile in New York. It’s kind of a high-profile case. You may have heard of it.”
“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t usually read about that stuff. If a movie star or somebody in the fashion industry was on trial, I’d know all about it.”
Jack laughed.
“It’s hard to believe—a handsome man like you and a lawyer to boot. How is it that you’re unattached?”
They had come to the tough part. Jack knew that this question would come up eventually.
“I lost my wife to cancer a year ago.”
“Oh Jack, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“Of course you should have. It’s a natural part of getting to know somebody. It’s okay, though, and I’m okay. It’s time for me to get on with my life. So, what’s your story? A beautiful woman like you vacationing in a small town on her own—that’s a bit unusual.”
Molly blushed. “Yeah, I guess. I was engaged for about a year to a wonderful man—at least, in many ways he was wonderful. He was just too intense—a workaholic. I have a stressful job, and to come home every night to a man who couldn’t relax—it was too much. I had to break it off.”
They both sat in silence for a while, thinking about their lost lives.
“I think we need another drink,” Jack finally declared as he signaled the waitress.
They relaxed and kept it light after that. Jack had a strip steak and Molly a filet. Afterward they took a walk along the river. It was a clear night once again, and a light breeze was coming off the river. Molly slipped her hand inside Jack’s as they walked. His first inclination was to pull away, but he didn’t, and after a few minutes he actually began to feel comfortable.
Jack finished up his preparations for Benny’s hearing on Wednesday morning and convinced himself that a dip in the ocean would be refreshing. He called Molly’s hotel on the way and left her a message that he would be there at two.
The hotel was midsized—five stories high. The lobby was elaborate and expensive-looking, but nothing really fit together. The floor and the walls were marble, while the furnishings and the art had that casual Key West feel. Molly was waiting in the lobby, a big smile on her face. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, took his hand, and led him to the elevators. She pushed the button for the top floor.
The room—it was actually a suite—was spectacular. The floors were marble throughout, even in the kitchen. The sliding glass doors off the living room area opened onto a patio that had a magnificent view of the ocean. As Molly and Jack walked to the patio they were serenaded by the sound of the waves pounding the shore.
“This is quite a place,” Jack remarked.
“It’s an upgrade. One of the few benefits of working in sales. I love watching the waves roll in. It’s so relaxing.”
Molly showed Jack where the bathroom was, and he changed into his bathing trunks.
The ocean was everything Molly had advertised it to be. The waves were high but not too dangerous for bodysurfing, something Jack had not done in a long time. He quickly regained the form he had first acquired as a teenager on Rockaway Beach and was soon riding the waves like an expert. Molly was even better. Jack watched as she dove toward the shore ahead of a wave, her long, well-toned arms smoothly and swiftly carrying her along until she caught the wave at its crest and let the ocean propel her forward. She had a perfect body for surfing—and everything else in the universe.
“Let’s see who goes the farthest,” she challenged him, her smile as bright as her little red bikini.
“You’re on.”
They started a contest, riding wave after wave. Molly was lighter and beat him every time. She would roll over on her back at the shoreline, watch him still coming in, and laugh in triumph. More than a few times Jack had the urge to sweep her up in his arms.
Afterward they stopped at the tiki bar on the beach.
“Give us a couple of those drinks with the umbrellas in them,” she told the bartender.
“To the victor!” Jack toasted her when the piña coladas arrived.
“To the runner-up!” Molly replied, raising her glass.
They stayed at the tiki bar for a couple of hours, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. It had been quite a while since Jack had felt so carefree and alive. They were both a little tipsy when they finally headed for the room to shower and get ready for dinner.
Jack sat on one of the high chairs out on the patio looking over the ocean while Molly took the first turn in the shower. It was already dark outside, and the moon lit up the beach.
“Jack,” Molly suddenly called to him from the living room.
Jack turned to the sound of her voice. Molly was standing in the middle of the living room, her figure silhouetted by the light from the kitchen behind her. She had shed the little red bikini.
“I think we ought to skip dinner,” she said as she walked toward him.
Jack swallowed hard. She was standing next to him now, and he put his arms around her although he had no idea what he was going to do next. “You know, I noticed
today that you ride the waves very well. Were you a surfer in your younger years?” he asked, his voice stuttering.
Molly sat in his lap, her naked skin rubbing up against him. “What an interesting question to ask at a moment like this,” she said as she kissed him lightly on the lips.
“I was just curious,” Jack replied, still not acknowledging what was happening.
“Well, the answer is no, Jack. I’ve never been a surfer. I wanted to keep that a secret. A woman has to retain her mystery, you know.”
“I guess so,” Jack mumbled as she leaned over and kissed him again. This one was longer and much sweeter than the last.
Right then he knew he wasn’t going to make it home that night.
50
“Where were you last night?” Henry asked when they were seated on the plane the next evening, waiting for takeoff.
“Why?” Jack asked rather defensively.
“Well, I called you around midnight because I’d forgotten what time we were leaving and I got no answer.”
“Maybe I was sleeping.”
“Jack, this is me, remember. I know your habits. You could be in a dead sleep and still answer the phone at three o’clock in the morning.”
“Well, I was out.”
“Out where? There’s nothing open at midnight in Bass Creek.”
“What are you, my mother or something?”
“You don’t have to get so defensive. I was just wondering where you were. You’re the one with all these conspiracy theories about people getting murdered. I’m just trying to make sure you’re not one of them. You’re lucky I didn’t come over there last night. I certainly thought about it.”
“I’m sorry, Henry. I was in Vero Beach with a woman.”
“A woman? Last week you couldn’t go on with your life, and this week you’re seeing hookers?”
“She wasn’t a hooker.”
“She wasn’t? As of last Friday, I was the only one around here in your life. This is Thursday.”
“I met her on Monday.”
“Oh? You met her on Monday and you’re sleeping with her on Wednesday. Is that what they call a whirlwind romance?”
“What’s with all these questions? I’m a grown man, you know. I can run my own life.”
The Law of Second Chances Page 26