Pushed to the Limit

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Hey, buddy, can I check one of those out for a minute?” Benno asked.

  “Huh?” The kid gave him a suspicious look, then nodded. “I guess.”

  Picking up a token, Benno was aware that the teenager’s eyes never left him. He smiled and turned the token so Sydney could see.

  “A seagull... and a boardwalk.”

  “Bingo.” He set the coin back in place. “Thanks.”

  “This is it.” Excitement colored Sydney’s cheeks as well as her voice. “Now if only we can find someone who remembers our mystery man.”

  Benno placed an encouraging arm around her shoulders. Sydney rewarded him with a smile. As they stopped one of the employees who exchanged tokens for cash, he hoped that particular expression would stay put, that Sydney wouldn’t be disappointed yet again. He was afraid exactly that would happen when, after she described the man she’d married, the token changer’s face remained a blank.

  “I coulda seen the guy, but I ain’t sure.”

  “Try to remember,” Sydney urged, but the employee merely shrugged.

  “I think I know who you mean.” This response came from a pretty blonde of eighteen or so who was emptying one of the video games of tokens. Closing the door and straightening, she said, “This guy has kind of a crooked smile, right?”

  “Right,” Sydney croaked, moving toward the blonde. “And he smokes those thin brown cigarettes.”

  The blonde nodded. “The Fox. The girls all call him that ‘cause of his dynamite looks.”

  “What’s his real name?” Benno asked.

  She shrugged and gave him the once-over. Her smile told him she liked what she saw. “Never heard him called anything else. He used to hang out here a lot, but I haven’t seen him in weeks. Said he was going on vacation, but I guess he’s not back yet.”

  Or he was too busy making trouble for other people to hang around a game arcade, Benno thought. “Do you know if this Fox lives somewhere near here?”

  “Carol, a customer up front needs help with one of the machines,” a man in his thirties said. A tag on his white shirt identified him as the manager.

  “Sure Mr. Vita.” Flashing Benno a look of regret, the blonde hurried off.

  The manager swept over each of them in turn, his weasel eyes not missing a detail. “Can I help you folks with something?”

  Sydney’s lips curved into a charming smile. “We’re trying to find a man called The Fox.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  The manager’s tone of voice didn’t ring true. Benno wondered if the guy was protecting The Fox. A friend? And when Sydney went through her description once more, he wondered where her intuition was, no less her psychic powers. Couldn’t she tell the manager wasn’t being straight with them? Then again, perhaps she wasn’t fooled, either. She was carefully watching the guy for his reaction.

  “Sorry. We get thousands of customers every week. Only someone with a photographic memory would be able to place any particular one.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  Benno didn’t miss the sarcasm in Sydney’s voice. She held herself stiffly and walked toward the front of the arcade.

  Carol had finished with the customer. As they passed her, she kept her back toward her boss and whispered, “The Fox and Mr. Vita are friendly, you know? Once I heard him say something about meeting at Oceanview Apartments. Or was it Ocean Winds? Something with water in the name.”

  “Thanks,” Sydney returned just as softly. Outside, she said, “I guess we look for a telephone directory again.”

  “You really think Al Fox is listed?”

  “Probably not. But we can check for apartment complexes in the yellow pages.”

  She was correct. They had an assortment from which to choose: Oceanview, Ocean Winds, Seascape, Sea Breeze and Watersprite. And the various complexes seemed to be located within a half mile radius of the arcade.

  They started with the closest, Ocean Winds, where they were lucky enough to spot a tenant carrying groceries from a car. Sydney described the fake Kenneth, but the woman insisted no one by that description lived there. She knew the only two hunks in the building.

  Next they stopped at Watersprite and found it to be a retirement community. No good looking young tenants of either sex here.

  Ocean Winds was an exclusive enclave. The guard at the gate turned them away without answering any of their questions which left that place a big question mark.

  Only two places left to check.

  Sea Breeze was the closest, several blocks inland. How it had gotten its name, Benno couldn’t fathom since the water wasn’t even visible from the complex.

  “No one around,” Sydney said dispiritedly.

  “We could knock at doors.”

  “Or check mail boxes. Not that it’ll do us any good since we don’t know The Fox’s real name.”

  Benno tried to be encouraging. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  The building was small. Only a dozen tenants. And checking the mailboxes proved to be the smart thing to do.

  “My God, Fox is his name.” An excited Sydney tapped the identification. “Al Fox. 2-F.”

  The two story building was old but in decent shape. An outside staircase led to a second story landing that fronted the half-dozen apartments. Fox’s was the furthest from the stairs. As they traversed the landing, Benno noted each apartment had a large picture window with smaller windows on each side. Some were curtained for privacy, others not.

  Al Fox’s were.

  Benno rapped on the door. When he got no response, he banged harder. “Delivery for Mr. Al Fox.”

  Tension seemed to ooze from Sydney as they waited.

  “He’s not here,” she said softly, her tone ripe with disappointment.

  “Then we’ll have to go in and take a look for ourselves.”

  “Break in?” she asked. “That’s illegal.”

  Sometimes Sydney could be incredibly naive, but Benno guessed that was part of her charm.

  “Do you want legal?” he asked. “Or do you want to find out why you may be indicted for murder?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  WIPING HER SWEATY PALMS on her white pants, Sydney stood guard as Benno proceeded with breaking in, his seeming confidence making her wonder about his past yet again. Narrow screened windows flanked either side of the large bay. He stood in front of the one that had been left cracked open.

  She wished he would hurry.

  They’d spent the entire afternoon tracking down Fox and now people with day jobs were leaving work. She noted the increased foot traffic on the adjoining street. At any moment, a tenant from one of the other five second-floor apartments was bound to come home and catch them.

  The sound of tearing fiberglass sent gooseflesh down her back. She glanced in Benno’s direction as he finished slicing through the entire length of screen. He folded his knife and stuck it in his pocket, deftly rolled up the fiberglass, then slid open the window and threw the evidence of the break-in inside.

  “Ladies first.”

  Not liking what they were doing, she checked the downstairs area thoroughly for any witnesses before edging back toward him. Benno had laughed at her suggestion of having the owner or manager open up the place for them. He’d said they wouldn’t get into the apartment without a court order unless they made the opportunity for themselves.

  “Relax, already,” he ordered. “No one’s around. All you have to do is slip into the apartment and unlock the front door for me.”

  Sydney ignored her foreboding and gathered the measly courage she had left. Pulling aside the heavy orange drape that blocked the window, she took one last cursory look around outside. No one. And inside, nothing out of place except the rolled screen.

  “Do you want me to do it?” Benno asked, his tone becoming impatient.

  Though Sydney would have loved to let him, she wouldn’t let on. After all, he was setting himself up for possible trouble because he was helping her find a con man. And if they d
idn’t find Fox, she would be in big trouble with the law. She couldn’t let Benno take all the risks.

  “I’m smaller. It’ll be easier for me.”

  Benno steadied Sydney as she swung a leg over the sill. His hands were warm and his grip firm on her sides. The situation evoked memories of other hands on her flesh.

  Al Fox’s hands.

  A felon’s hands.

  Shifting her weight away from Benno as she stepped inside brought a measure of relief even though she didn’t relish being in the room alone. Her pulse erratic, she rushed to the door and flung it open.

  Benno gave her a questioning look as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Sydney figured she appeared as frightened as she was feeling. But she wasn’t a coward; she was merely out of her depths. And she couldn’t help wondering what fate had in store for her next.

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she told him.

  Sydney noticed Benno didn’t add his assurances that he hadn’t either. But then his attention was off her and on the room itself.

  “What a drab setting for a man who sounds like a peacock,” he commented.

  She bristled for a moment, then realized she had no reason to defend the man who’d tricked her into a fake marriage. Taking a good look around herself, she was somewhat shocked by the lack of civilities and excess of filth. The room was sparsely outfitted, the few pieces of furniture obviously second hand and in need of cleaning. The room’s musty smell seemed appropriate to the setting.

  Benno wandered toward the kitchenette. The small table was covered with food wrappers, and several bags from fast food restaurants lay crumpled on the floor.

  “He must have had lunch here.” Benno picked up a container. “I can still smell the greasy fries.”

  “Then he may be back at any minute.”

  Panic warred with excitement at the possibility of facing down Al Fox. Of course that’s exactly what she’d been hoping for. Only caution dictated she not be so anxious – the man was probably armed.

  “Odds are our Mr. Vita warned him,” Benno said. “Fox is probably long gone and I don’t picture him coming back. He can’t be sure you won’t call the police and have the building staked out. His hideaway isn’t safe any more.”

  “Just in case you’re wrong, we’d better search the apartment fast and see what we can find.”

  Benno was already opening a door. “This closet is empty.”

  “You look around here. I’ll check the bedroom.”

  The inner room was as sordid as the rest of the place, making Sydney wonder how Al Fox could have fooled her so well. His taste had appeared to be impeccable and when he was with her, he’d seemed something of a perfectionist. She couldn’t fathom how any human being could live like thishe place was a pigsty. More wrappers littered the dresser, half a donut lay on the night stand next to an ashtray filled with cigarette butts, and what appeared to be several days worth of newspapers were scattered across the floor.

  “Fox was one hell of an actor, I’ll give him that,” she muttered, dropping her shoulder bag at the edge of the bed.

  She started with the chest. Either other clothes had been hastily ripped from the drawers before he’d left or Fox had only these few things and didn’t care how wrinkled they were. She found nothing more revealing.

  Though she expected the closet to be empty, she checked it next. The bar was bare but for a few hangers with articles of clothing, all of which she recognized. He’d left them as if he wanted no reminder of her.

  Sadness threatened to overwhelm her, but Sydney steeled herself, ordered herself to remain detached. She inspected the clothes, searched through pockets, including those of a heavy sweater he’d worn the day he’d proposed. Nothing. Touching the sweater sleeve, she closed her eyes and visualized the man she’d fallen in love with.

  She’d just said yes to his proposal and he was holding her and wearing that devastatingly crooked smile.

  His face neared hers to claim a kiss...

  She shuddered at the memory.

  Then a hand on her shoulder made her jump. Her eyes flew open. “Benno.”

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Just a little jittery,” she lied, swinging out of the closet and trying to pass him.

  His hand shot out, preventing her from going anywhere. Benno pulled her against his chest and wrapped both arms around her as if to stop her trembling. Sydney couldn’t help but press her cheek against the front of his soft brown shirt. His heart beat strong and steady beneath the finely woven material. Being held by him, leaning on him both literally and figuratively, felt so right.

  And only a few hours before, she had thought she was unwilling to get close to any man.

  “Better?”

  Wondering how she could feel so content in his arms, especially here, especially with the memories she’d conjured, Sydney lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  “Much.”

  He was staring at her in a way that mesmerized her. She told herself she should pull away from him, but she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. His expression intense, Benno lowered his head as she had remembered Al Fox doing. She forced away the recollection and lifted her face.

  Benno’s mouth demanded hers. Sydney let loose the emotions she’d been trying to deny. For days, she’d fought her attraction to this man and yet should have known that some physical exploration was inevitable. She responded as if she hadn’t been held in years, as if the embrace were an affirmation of her own desirability.

  Evidence that she desperately needed.

  And Benno’s kiss was more wonderful than she could have imagined. She felt intrigued. She felt plundered. She felt alive.

  She was so caught up in the wonder of Benno’s embrace that she didn’t realize they weren’t alone until a strident female voice demanded, “What in blue blazes is going on here?”

  Sydney jumped and pushed at Benno’s chest. Caught red-handed. She was ready to confess everything and plead the woman’s mercy.

  Benno, on the other hand, kept his head... and an arm around Sydney.

  He gave her a warning squeeze before asking the woman, “And who might you be?”

  Reed thin and wearing hot pink shorts, a lime green halter top, and several colorful necklaces, bracelets and earrings, the brassy fiftyish redhead drew herself up to her full height which would have been considerable even without the three inch feather-decorated purple slides.

  “I’m the one doing the asking around here. Ida Mae Sims. This is my building.”

  ”And you always come waltzing into your tenants’ apartments without being invited?” Benno challenged her.

  Sydney gave him an exasperated look. Why wasn’t he trying to charm the woman?

  “You aren’t my tenants,” Ida Mae said, jingling her rhinestone decorated key ring at him.

  “No, but Al Fox is. We’re waiting for him.”

  The landlady’s mouth puckered, giving her narrow face a pinched look. “Is that no-good scoundrel gonna be here soon? I thought you was him. That’s why I came up here. To collect the rent. He’s good at giving me a song and a dance instead of hard cash.” She narrowed her heavily made-up eyes suspiciously. “And how do I know you’re his friends?”

  “How else would we have gotten into this place if he didn’t let us in?” Benno asked smoothly while Sydney prayed the landlady hadn’t noticed the screen.

  “I don’t know, but I want you outta here.”

  “That won’t make Al happy.”

  “Tough. When he makes me happy by putting a rent check in my hand–” She tapped one palm with long purple nails. “–then everything will be ducky. You tell him that when you see him. In the meantime, I’m gonna get my gentleman friend to change the lock.”

  “We can wait right here and give Al your message,” Sydney said. To appease the woman, she added, “I’m sure he’ll want to square things with you.”

  “Well, I ain’t sure of no such thing, so you two get out
of here right this dang minute.”

  She waltzed around behind them and herded them out of the bedroom. They were through the front door before Sydney remembered her shoulder bag.

  “My purse. I left it in the bedroom.”

  Ida Mae sighed and fussed with the magenta silk flowers in her hair. “All right. Go on and get it.”

  Sydney gave the landlady a grateful smile and reentered the apartment. She headed for the bedroom and wondered if she could stall long enough to check out the other dresser. Before picking up her purse, she peered through the doorway to see if Ida Mae was watching.

  “Hurry up now.”

  The voice jarred Sydney and she knocked into the shoulder bag, which tumbled off the bed. Its contents shot across the floor.

  “Damn.”

  Bending over, she grabbed her wallet, keys and lipstick and dumped them back into the purse. But when she went for the Tarot pouch, the opening loosened and several cards slid out and flew under the bed.

  “Double damn.”

  Now she had to get on her knees and the floor was filthy. She collected the first few cards easily but had to flatten out to reach two others which had landed on a piece of paper almost out of reach. She nabbed the edge and dragged it and the cards toward her. Sitting back on her knees, she brushed the dust motes from the front of her sea green shirt.

  Then she reached for the cards. They rested on a newspaper clipping, yellowed and fragile, with deep creases where it had been folded, perhaps for years. Curiosity made her pick up the newsprint. When she turned the clipping over, her eyes widened.

  “What’s the doggone problem?” Ida Mae stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

  “I-I knocked over my purse,” Sydney croaked, carefully folding up the newspaper and placing it in her purse. “I was just picking up my things.”

  The other woman came closer. “Tarot cards. You read Tarot cards?”

  “Yes.”

  ”I love Tarot cards,” Ida Mae enthused. “Would you read mine? I’ll pay.”

  Sweeping the loose cards into her bag, Sydney stood and rushed by the other woman. “No, sorry, I don’t have time.”