Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12)

by Rodney Riesel

  “You weren't invited.”

  “I didn't think I needed to be.”

  “Let's talk about something else,” said Dan.

  Chapter Two

  Dan was sitting in his recliner watching Bonanza when Maxine walked from the hall into the living room.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Dan said. He grinned big.

  “It's afternoon,” Maxine replied. “I didn't want to sleep this late.” She crossed the room, bent over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry I was a bitch when I got home this morning.”

  Dan shrugged it off. “I'm a big boy,” he replied. “I can take it.”

  Maxine sat down on the brand-new palm tree print sofa that Dan had recently purchased to replace the old palm tree print sofa that Melvin Jessup, the red-headed hitman, had blown a hole through with his shotgun.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Dan asked.

  “That would be great.”

  “I can make you some breakfast if you like. There's blueberry and strawberry Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.”

  “I'll pass. My stomach is a little off.”

  Dan climbed out of his La-Z-Boy and walked to the kitchen. He took a mug out of the cabinet and filled it with coffee. He paused. “Is it okay if I microwave this morning's coffee?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just wanted to make sure.” Dan poured the coffee and put it in the microwave. He tapped the one minute button and waited. “Bev and Red said I should ask you what's wrong.”

  “Bev and Red said?”

  Ding!

  Dan removed the mug and carried it into the living room. “We were talking about how you've been in a bad mood the last few days.” He handed the coffee to Maxine.

  “Why would you be discussing my mood with friends and neighbors?” Maxine asked angrily.

  “Um, Red brought it up,” Dan lied. “I hadn't really noticed.”

  “You hadn't noticed what?”

  “Well … I mean—what's wrong?”

  Maxine took a deep breath. “I'll be fine,” she said. She scooted back on the sofa and sipped her coffee. “What are you watching?”

  “Bonanza.”

  “Little Joe and Hoss, right?”

  “That's the one.”

  “I'm going to be an expert on these old people shows pretty soon.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, you mean I'm old and you're not.”

  “You're not old.”

  “And you're even more not old.”

  Dan and Maxine had met a little over a year ago, while Dan was serving a court-ordered stay at the Key West Psychiatric Center. Dan was smitten the minute he first laid eyes on the thin, blonde RN, who was twelve years his junior. Maxine was instantly attracted to Dan as well. This surprised Dan, as Maxine didn't know about his wealth at the time.

  “What time do you have to be at work?” Dan asked.

  “Maxine looked at her wristwatch. “Two,” she replied. Maxine was a hard worker, and always put in as many hours of over-time as she could.

  “You know,” said Dan, “like I've told you before, you don't have to work this many hours.”

  “I know I don't, but I like to work. I'm not going to sit back and do nothing, just because you have enough money to support us both. I want to pay my own way. Besides, I need the health insurance.”

  “If that's what you want.”

  “Are you worried people are talking?”

  “Talking?”

  “Saying you make me work all these hours, even though you're rich.”

  “I think you know I don't give a rat's ass about what other people think. You want to work, you go right ahead and work.”

  Maxine stood up and walked toward the hall. “I better jump in the shower,” she said. “Did you eat lunch yet?”

  “No,” Dan replied. “I was gonna grab something at Red's after you went to work.”

  “Okay.”

  “You want me to drop you off at work on my way to Red's.”

  Maxine turned. “I think we both know that's a bad idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You'll drop me off at work, you'll go to Red's, and you'll get piss drunk. Then I'll be left standing in the parking lot wondering where you are. You won't answer your phone, and I'll end up having to take a cab home.”

  “Oh come on. How many times has that happened?”

  “Seven.”

  “Really? Has it been seven times?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh. I don't remember that.”

  “I didn't think you would.”

  Dan waited until Maxine was down the hall. “I didn't think you would,” he mumbled.

  “What was that?” Maxine called out.

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter Three

  “Tequila, Seven, and lime!” Dan ordered as he walked through the door of Red's Bar and Grill. He let the door swing shut behind him, and removed his Ray-Bans. He ceremoniously folded the Wayfarers and tucked one of the temples into the front of the neck hole of his T-shirt. His flip-flops rhythmically slapped his heels as he crossed the sticky bar room floor. Several bamboo-bladed fans slowly spun above his head, and Jimmy Buffett's “Son of a Sailor” played on the old Wurlitzer.

  “Didn't think I'd see you in here today, pal,” Red said.

  “Why's that?” Dan asked.

  “Didn't know if she would allow it, ya know, with her mood lately.”

  Dan waved his friend off. “She's fine.”

  Cindy, Red's young bartender/waitress, already had Dan's drink prepared and sitting in front of his favorite orange barstool when he climbed aboard.

  “Thanks, Cindy,” said Dan.

  Cindy ran her fingernails through her long blonde hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, and fastened it into place with a rubber band she had stretched around the tips of her fingers. “It's what I do,” she responded.

  “Put it on my tab,” said Dan.

  “Yeah, with everything else,” said Red.

  Dan sipped his drink. “Perfect.”

  “It's the only way I make 'em,” Cindy said.

  “So you actually asked her what was wrong,” Red asked, “and she told you she was fine?”

  “Yut.”

  “Problem solved,” Red said.

  “I'm going to take my break,” Cindy informed her boss.

  “I'll hold down the fort,” Red said.

  Dan looked around the almost empty room. “Think you can manage?” he asked.

  Red turned and grabbed the half-full coffee pot that was sitting on a warmer on the back bar, and a mug that was sitting beside it. He filled the cup, and blew into it.

  “You find a replacement for Jocko yet?” Dan asked.

  “There's no replacement for Jocko,” Red replied.

  “Ain't that the truth.” Dan said somberly. “I really miss that guy.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “How many people have you interviewed?”

  “About thirty.”

  “Thirty? And you didn't like any of them?”

  “None of them were Jocko.”

  “I still half expect him to walk through that kitchen door and bust my balls about something.”

  Red nodded his head. “Every time I go into the kitchen and he ain't standing there at the grill, it's like a kick in the gut.”

  Dan took a deep breath and exhaled. He sipped his tequila and swallowed. He decided to change the subject. “I'm thinking about getting an office.”

  “An office?” Red sneered. “What do you mean?”

  “It's a room where you conduct business. Sometimes people—”

  “I know what an office is, ya moron. But what the hell do you need an office for?”

  “You have an office.”

  “Yeah, that's because I have a business. You don't do anything. That would be like Skip getting an office.”

  “You're comparing me to Skip?”

  “Well, I me
an—”

  “Well, I mean. Well you mean what? I solve crimes. I'm a crime fighter, for chrissakes. That's what I do. That's why I need an office.”

  “A crime-fighter,” Red repeated condescendingly. “Maybe what you really need is a Hall of Justice, or perhaps a Fortress of Solitude.”

  Dan downed the rest of his drink and slid the empty glass across the bar. “You're a dick.”

  “I'm just bustin' your balls. Calm down.” Red picked up Dan's glass and began making him another drink. “Where will this office be located?”

  “I don't know yet. I gotta check the classifieds and see what there is out there. I want something close by.”

  “And what made you decide to get an office?” Red placed the fresh drink in front of his friend.

  “As you know, Maxine has been getting on my case about you guys always coming over while she's trying to sleep. I just thought it would be a good idea. We could move the case board into the office. We could move a desk in there too. Maybe even a little bar, so we can have a drink while we work. We could also move a couch and a TV in there.”

  “You said 'we' a lot in there.”

  “I'm gonna need your help moving stuff.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “You have this morning's paper lying around?”

  “It's in my office.”

  “I can't wait till I have an office.”

  “Yeah, it's awesome,” Red said sarcastically.

  “Well, mine will be awesome,” Dan said. “It'll be a lot nicer than yours.”

  Just then Dan's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of the side pocket of his cargo shorts. “Dan Coast speaking,” he answered.

  “Hello, Mr. Coast. My name is Marilyn Valdosta.”

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Valdosta?”

  “It's my husband, Mr. Coast.” There was a long pause. Dan wondered if he should say something. “He's missing,” Marilyn finally said.

  “Okay. How long's he been missing?”

  “Three days.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Branson would be angry if I called the police.”

  “Who is Branson?”

  “He's my husband, Mr. Coast.”

  “But—can I call you back first thing in the morning, Ms. Valdosta? I'm out of the office right now.”

  “I … um. I guess so.”

  “Do I call you back on the number you called me from?”

  “Yes.”

  “I'll talk to you tomorrow.” Dan hung up his cell and turned to Red. “I need an office by tomorrow morning.”

  “Why?” Red asked. “Who was that?”

  “A woman by the name of Valdosta. You ever hear the name?”

  “No. I heard of the town.”

  “What town?”

  “Valdosta.”

  “Where's that?”

  “Here … in Florida.”

  “Oh. Anyway, she said her husband was missing.”

  “Why didn't she just call the cops?”

  “That's what I said. I guess we'll find out tomorrow.”

  “There's that 'we' again.”

  Dan began scrolling through his contacts looking for a number he hadn't called since his first few days in Key West. When he found it, he dialed.

  “Dixon Realty,” a woman answered.

  “Can I speak to Emily?” Dan asked.

  “May I have your name please?”

  “No,” Dan replied, “it's the only one I've got.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tell her it's Dan Coast.”

  “Please hold, Mr. Coast.”

  Dan turned back to Red. “She asked if she could have my name. I told her no, it was the only one I had.”

  Red chuckled. “Good one.”

  “Dan!” Emily Dixon said excitedly. “It's so good to hear from you. What's it been—four years?”

  “About that.”

  “What can I do for you today? Thinking of putting that little bungalow on the market and upgrading?”

  “No, that's not it,” Dan assured her. “I'm looking for office space to rent.”

  “Not to buy?”

  “No, just to rent.”

  “Okay. Let me have a look around and make some calls, and I'll get back to you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That's not gonna work.”

  “Too soon?”

  “Not soon enough. I need to be in the office by nine o'clock tomorrow morning.”

  “But, it's three o'clock now.”

  “I know.”

  “How am I going to get you in an office that quickly?”

  “You told me once that you were the best real estate agent on the island.”

  “Yeah, but we all say that.”

  “But only you have to prove it,” Dan said. “Call me back as soon as you have something for me to look at.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “How big of an office do you want?”

  “I don't know. Office size, I guess. I'll need a desk, a couch and chair, a small bar. Nothing too big.”

  “Will you need a reception area?”

  “No, we'll just stand at the bar and drink.”

  “I mean for a receptionist.”

  “Oh.” Dan thought about it for a second. “I don't care. Whatever you think. Call me back.” Dan hung up his cell and placed it on the bar next to his glass. “Now we just sit back and wait.”

  “We.” Red turned and walked into the kitchen.

  Dan's cell phone started ringing again. “Dan Coast speaking,” he answered.

  “Mr. Coast, my name is Lola Paragould.”

  “What can I do for you Ms. Paragould?”

  “I was given your name by Reatha Davis, a friend of mine. I believe she is also a friend of yours.”

  Dan smiled a little and nodded his head as he recalled the very large and mouthy Nurse Davis. A while back, Reatha Davis had hired Dan to prove that her husband, Henry, who had been arrested for murdering his boss, was innocent. “How's ol' Reatha doing?” he asked.

  “Very good.”

  “And what can I do for you, Ms, Paragould?” Dan asked again.

  “It's my husband, Mr. Coast … he's missing.”

  Dan cocked his head a little. “Your husband is missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long has he been missing?”

  “Three days.”

  “Have you called the police?” Dan asked. He thought of the immortal words of the great Yogi Berra: It's deja vu all over again.

  “No.”

  “Because it would make your husband angry?”

  “Yes, it would, Mr. Coast. How did you know that?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Branson is a very private man. He wouldn't want this to go public.”

  “Branson, huh?”

  “Yes, that's my husband's name. Branson.”

  “Isn't that somethin'.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. Mrs. Paragould, why don't I have you swing by my office tomorrow around noon.”

  “Okay, Mr. Coast. Thank you. What's the address?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Four

  Dan took a left off of Whitehead Street onto Flemming Street and into the first parking spot he found. He climbed out of his vehicle and looked back across the intersection. The very tanned bleached blonde, Emily Dixon, stood in front of a two-story, mint green building on the corner. Seeing her brought back memories of house hunting with Alex. Dan took a deep breath. Maybe I should have called someone else, he thought.

  Emily rose upon her tip toes and waved. “Dan!” she shouted. “Over here!”

  Dan gave her a half-wave and dodged the traffic as he jogged across the intersection toward her.

  “It was so nice to hear from you, Dan,” said the always flirtatious Emily.

  Dan reached out to shake Emily's hand, but she was al
ready coming in for a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. Dan tried to turn his head slightly to give her his cheek, but misjudged and Emily planted a big kiss right on the lips.

  “Uh … sorry,” Dan said nervously, pulling away. He looked around for witnesses. Small town he thought. He could just imagine the explaining he would have to do if Maxine heard he was making out with his real estate agent on the corner of Fleming and Whitehead. Dan quickly wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and then felt embarrassed for doing so. “I thought you were going to—”

  Emily let out a boisterous laugh. “Don't apologize,” she said. “It was just a kiss. No harm, no foul.”

  “So, what do you have for me?” What do you have for me? Dan repeated in his head. Crazy thing to ask a woman after she just laid one on ya.

  Emily turned and waved her arm at the wooden structure behind her. The old two-story building was sided with wooden clapboards. It was painted mint green with hunter green wooden shutters. The roof was metal that had been painted with several layers of aluminum roof coat.

  “There's the gift shop downstairs,” said Emily. “There's a doctor's office in the back, on the first floor.” She turned and walked around the right side of the building. “The space I'll be showing you is upstairs—it used to be an attorney's office.”

  Dan followed Emily around the building to a white staircase and railing that ran up the outside of the building. Emily walked up first and Dan followed as he watched the muscles in her hamstrings and calves flex and release with every step. He tried to look away, but couldn't. His eyes slowly rose to her butt. Just then she quickly looked back to make sure he was watching. He quickly looked away and felt his face flush again.

  What the Christ? he thought. You're engaged to a beautiful woman. You're engaged. You're engaged. You're engaged, he recited over and over in his head.

  “You like what you see so far?” Emily asked.

  “Um … what?” Dan asked.

  “You like the building so far?”

  “Oh, uh … yeah. Very nice.”

  When Emily reached the top of the stairs she pulled a key from the front pocket of her white denim shorts. “This place hasn't even been listed yet. We were lucky to even hear about it.”

  “Cool.”

  “I'm told it's even furnished. So, whatever is here, stays here.”

  She stuck the key in the lock and turned. She pushed the door open and walked inside. Dan followed. The first room they walked into was about ten by ten. A small desk sat to their right. Behind the desk and to its left was a door. Black writing on the glass panel in the door said Travis Lissten: Attorney at Law. To their left were two solid doors, one with a small metal press-on sign that said Bathroom. A window that looked out over Fleming Street was directly across from the door.