“I rest my case.”
“It says on the package that there were three tests in there. You think she took all of them?”
“Who knows?”
“None of the sticks were in the garbage can?”
“No. I looked. I even went and dug through the kitchen trash.”
“Do you think she's in a bad mood lately because she is pregnant, or because she's not?”
“I have no idea.”
“When are you going to bring it up?”
“I don't know if I should. Maybe I should just wait for her to talk about it when she's ready.”
Red stared at the package for a few seconds. “What are you hoping?”
Dan shrugged. “I'm not,” he replied. “I never thought I would be a father. Alex and I tried when we were first married, but it didn't work.”
“What do you mean?”
“She had three miscarriages. Each time was more devastating to her than the last. We quit trying. I just assumed I would never be a father.”
“My ex and I didn't have sex enough to get pregnant. She pretty much cut me off after the honeymoon. Of course, she didn't cut the beer delivery guy off, so she's his problem now.”
Dan laughed. He had heard Red's horror stories of his old life and marriage in Chicago.
“I just don't think I would make a good father,” said Dan.
“You wouldn't,” Red agreed.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I was agreeing with you.”
“I know, but usually people say something like, 'Don't be silly, you would make a great dad.'”
“I didn't want to lie to you.”
“Ouch.”
“Well, let's face it. You drink too much. You're pretty goddamn lazy. You'll be an old man by the time the kid graduates high school, if you even live that long.”
“With friends like you, who needs enemies?”
“That's another thing: you have a few enemies.”
The waitress returned and sat their plates in front of them. “Can I get anyone another drink?” she asked.
“No, I'm good,” Red said.
“Yeah, I could use another one,” said Dan.
“I bet you could,” Red chuckled.
Chapter Eleven
Dan and Red arrived back at the office at 11:45; Lola Paragould was already waiting at the top of the stairs.
Dan hurried up the steps. “Have you been waiting long?” he asked.
“Only a few minutes,” Lola replied.
Oddly enough, Lola looked an awful lot like Marilyn Valdosta. She was about the same height and build; even their hair color was the same mousy brown. Lola didn't have the long chin, nor was it decorated with the huge pulsating pimple. But she was just as homely.
Dan stuck his key in the lock and opened the door. “After you,” he said, and stepped back to let Lola enter first. “My office is right in there.” Dan pointed at the glass panel door.
“Travis Lissten, attorney at law?” Lola asked.
“That was the last tenant,” Dan explained. He opened his door and went inside. Lola followed him. “You can have a seat right there.”
Lola sat down in the same chair where Marilyn had sat.
Red cleared his throat loudly. Dan glanced at him and said, “This is Mr. Baxter … my secretary.”
Red glared at him. “Executive associate,” he corrected.
He leaned up against the wall in the same spot where he had leaned earlier in the day.
Dan picked up his pen and readied himself for Lola's tale. “You say your husband has been missing since Thursday?”
“Yes, that's correct,” Lola replied.
“Did you bring a photograph of your husband with you?”
“Yes.” Lola reached into her white leather handbag and pulled out a 5x7 photograph.
Red stepped forward and took the photo from Lola and gave it a look. He grinned a little, and handed the photo to Dan.
Dan stared at the photo for a few seconds. It was just what he figured it would be, another photograph of Branson Pudgewheat. He glanced over at Red, who was smirking. Red, as inconspicuously as possible, raised his hand and circled his ear once again with his finger. Lola looked over at him, and Red ran his fingers through his hair in a half-assed attempt to disguise his gesture.
Dan looked over the top of the photo at Lola. “Your husband reminds me of a young James Bond,” he said.
Lola was shocked. “W-why do you say that?”
Dan shrugged and laid the photo on the desk. “Oh, I don't know. Young. Good looking. I assume he's wealthy.”
“Yes, his family was quite well off.”
“What does your husband do for a living, Lola?” Red asked.
“Branson doesn't work,” said Lola.
“Not at all?” Dan asked. “He must do something.”
“Well—”
“Well, what, Lola?” Dan asked. “If we're going to find your husband, we need your complete cooperation.”
Lola looked from Dan, to Red, and back. “Well … ” she said hesitantly. “Branson is a spy.”
“Oh, my,” said Red. “A spy. Was he recruited by the United States government?”
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“It's quite common,” Red assured her.
Dan shot Red a look of contempt out of the corner of his eye. “Where was the last place you saw your husband, Lola?” he asked.
“Cook made us breakfast around six o'clock Thursday morning. We don't usually rise that early, but Branson said he had to make contact with his handler here in Key West.”
“His handler,” Dan repeated to himself as he jotted the information down. “Do you have the name of your husband's handler?”
“Yes. His name is John Doe.”
Dan stopped writing. “John Doe?”
“Probably a code name,” said Red.
“Yeah, probably,” Dan responded. “You said you and Branson woke up early Thursday morning.”
“Yes.”
“Was Branson home the entire night?”
“Yes—wait, no, he wasn't. He got a call around midnight, and had to leave.”
“What time did he return?”
“Around three.”
“When did the two of you arrive in Key West?”
“I arrived by plane Wednesday morning. Branson met me at the house around five that evening.”
“He was already in town?” Red asked.
“No, he arrived on another flight.”
“Where was he flying in from?”
“That's classified.”
“I see,” said Dan. “Lola, how old are you?”
“Fifty-one.”
“And how old is Branson?”
“Thirty-one, Mr. Coast, and I know what you're thinking.”
“I bet you don't.”
“You're thinking that Branson only married me for my money, but that couldn't be further from the truth. It was a chance meeting. He didn't even know I had money.”
“Where did you meet, at a grocery store?” Red asked.
“Why, yes, we did meet at the grocery store. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Publix?” Dan asked.
“Winn-Dixie,” said Lola.
“Dammit! I was gonna say Winn-Dixie,” said Red.
“Oh. Well, anyway, Branson has plenty of money of his own.”
“Yes,” Dan said, nodding his head. “The Pudgewheat fortune.”
Lola cocked her head. She seemed confused. “Excuse me?”
“Your husband's family—the Pudgewheats.”
“I've never heard that name before,” Lola responded. “My husband's name is Breckenridge … Branson Breckenridge.”
“Breckenridge,” Red repeated. “Not as much fun to say as Pudgewheat.”
“Who are the Pudgewheats?” asked Lola.
“It's not important,” Dan said, as he wrote down Branson's second last name. “Obvious
ly you didn't take your husband's last name.”
“Was it a common law marriage?” Red asked.
“Yes, it was.”
“What state?” Dan asked.
“Oklahoma.”
“His family home?”
“Yes,” said Lola. “Alva, Oklahoma.”
“You lived there for a little over a year while Branson traveled around the globe posing as a wealthy playboy?” Red asked.
“Yes, Mr. Baxter,” Lola said. “You must be an amazing detective.”
“Yeah, he must be—especially for secretary,” Dan said, glaring at his friend. “I think that's all I need for now, Lola. If you could jot down your address here, and your address in Oklahoma, it would be very helpful.”
Lola took Dan's pen and did as she was asked. She got up from her chair. “Thank you both,” she said.
Red showed Lola the way out. He watched from Dan's office door as she crossed the room and went out the front door. As soon as the door shut Red turned to Dan and said, “Cuckoo-cuckoo!”
“Tell me about it,” Dan agreed. He stared at the legal pad. “The first question that comes to mind is—”
“Where should we go for a drink?” Red interrupted.
“Are they his only two wives?”
“Yeah, that too,” Red said. “So, Capt. Tony's?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Chapter Twelve
After a couple drinks at Capt. Tony's, Dan decided he better head on home and spend some time with Maxine. Red wanted to come in and say hi when they got there, but Dan sent him on his way. He was afraid the big galoot might slip up and say something about the pregnancy test.
Dan opened the front door quietly and peeked into house. It was the first time he remembered sneaking quietly into his own home since he was a kid. Buddy lay on his bed.
“She awake?” Dan asked.
Buddy looked toward the kitchen.
“Gotcha,” Dan said. He pushed the door open and went inside. He tried to act as normal as possible. “Honey, I'm home.”
“In here,” Maxine called out.
Buddy jumped up and followed Dan into the kitchen. Maxine was standing in front of the sink doing the dishes. Dan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the neck.
“How's everything going?” Dan asked.
“Good,” Maxine replied.
“Sorry about last night.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I don't know. I must have done something wrong.”
“It wasn't you.”
“Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“No, I just had a rough day at work.”
“How did today go?” Dan released his grip and turned to the coffee pot.
“I didn't even get up until after noon.”
“You didn't have to work?”
“No.”
“Is this coffee fresh?”
“Like you care if it's fresh or not.”
“Yeah, I don't.”
“It's fresh.” Maxine grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and handed it to Dan.
He turned and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Maxine turned back to the sink. “How was your day?”
“Cuckoo,” Dan replied.
Maxine looked back over her shoulder. “Cuckoo?” she asked.
“Would you believe two women came into the office this—”
“Ha-ha, office.”
“Yeah, I know, it sounds funny. Two women came in today and they both asked me to find their missing husband.”
“You mean husbands, with an S?”
“No, I mean husband, with no S. It's the same guy.”
Maxine shut off the water and turned back around. “Like Sister Wives?”
“What's a sister wives?”
“The show I watch on TLC, with the guy and his four wives.”
“Doesn't sound familiar.”
Maxine pointed toward the living room. “You've sat right in there, in your recliner, when I was watching it. You make fun of it all the time.”
“You'd have to narrow it down. I make fun of everything you watch.”
“They have like eighteen kids.”
“Oh, yeah—wait, that Duggar guy has four wives? I thought there—”
“Not that show!”
“Don't they have a bunch of kids?”
“Yes, but that's not the show I'm talking about.”
“Are you talking about the little people one?”
“No, the one where they lived in Las Vegas for awhile.”
“Do they flip houses?”
“That's not even the same network.”
“If it's not on MeTV, don't talk to me about it. Anyway … these two homely women come into the office—”
“Together?”
“No, not together. Can I tell the story? You're worse than Red.”
“Go ahead.”
“Stop interrupting.”
Maxine giggled. “I will.” She mimed zipping her lips shut.
Dan glared at her. “Two women came into the office at different times and both said they would like me to find their husband. They each gave me a photograph of the husband. It was the same guy in both photographs.”
“There, now, that wasn't so hard, was it?”
“It shouldn't have been.”
“What did they say when they found out they were married to the same guy?”
“I didn't tell them.”
“Shouldn't you have?”
“Why?”
“Seems like it would be the right thing to do.”
“Have you ever met me?”
“Good point. So then, what are you going to do?”
“Try and find the guy. There's a good chance he disappeared all on his own.”
“You don't suspect any foul play?”
“There's foul play all right, but not pertaining to his disappearance. These two women are in their late forties, early fifties, and this guy is thirty-one. Both of the women have money. Both met him through what they each believe was a chance encounter at a grocery store. He told them both that he's a spy working for the US government. Also, neither of them is legally married to him. Both marriages are common law.”
“I didn't even know you could do that in Florida.”
“You can't, but evidently Florida recognizes common law marriages from other states where it is legal; in these cases, Oklahoma and Kansas.”
“I see.”
“In both cases he also claims he comes from wealthy families and he is the only surviving member.”
“Convenient. Where are you going to start?”
“At the homes of the two women, right here in Key West. Red and I will probably head over to their houses tomorrow.”
“You mean after your meeting.”
“Meeting?”
“AA.”
“Oh, of course. I wouldn't miss an AA meeting for all the tequila in Mexico.”
“You really have issues.”
“Never said I didn't.”
Maxine returned her attention to the few dirty dishes in the sink. “Are you hungry?”
“Gettin' there.”
“What do you want?”
“What is there?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“We have to run to the grocery store.”
“Can't you go alone?” Dan groaned.
“Maybe I should go to the store alone,” said Maxine. “I might be lucky enough to have a chance encounter with a wealthy, good-looking young spy.”
“I never said he was good-looking.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.” Maxine pulled out the basket strainer and the soapy water circled down the drain. “I need to jump in the shower. Think about what you want for dinner and let me know before I leave.” She turned and gave Dan a peck on the cheek. “If I never return, it's because I met a spy.”
“What'll I do for dinn
er in that case?”
“Go to Red's … just don't forget about that meeting in the morning.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him again, this time on the lips. “I love you.”
“Back at ya.”
“Sorry I've been so moody.”
“Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?”
“There's nothing to talk about.”
Maxine turned and walked out of the kitchen.
There's nothing to talk about, Dan thought, as he watched her round the corner and disappear down the hall. Does that mean she's not pregnant, or does that mean she is pregnant, and there's just nothing to talk about, now? He raised his cup to take a drink and realized he had never poured the coffee. He turned picked up the pot and filled the cup.
There's nothing to talk about. Right.
Chapter Thirteen
Dan sat in one of the Adirondack chairs next to the fire pit sipping his coffee and skimming through the morning edition of the Key West Citizen. He read each headline and if the story sounded interesting, he would read it. None of them sounded interesting. When he came to the comics, he pulled that section out, folded it, and dropped the rest of the paper on the ground next to him. He was halfway down the page when the back screen door creaked open.
“You decide what you want for dinner?” Maxine called out.
“Never gave it another thought.” Dan replied. “Burgers?”
“Sounds good. Is there anything else you want?”
“Grab a box of Pop-Tarts.”
“Okay.”
“Not the ones with—”
“I know, not the ones with frosting. I know. Everyone knows. You ramble on about it enough.”
“When have I ever rambled on about Pop-Tarts?”
Maxine shook her head. “Really? If I had a dollar for every time I've heard you argue with someone about Pop-Tarts, I could retire.”
“You said you didn't want to retire.”
“Shut up.” Maxine let the door slam shut, turned, and walked back through the house to the front door.
“Hey, neighbor,” Bev called out from her back deck. She held up her margarita in suggestion.
“Don't mind if I do,” Dan accepted.
Bev went back inside and returned a few minutes later with a margarita in each hand. She crossed the yards and handed Dan's to him.
“Thanks,” said Dan. “I could really use this.”
“Maxine still grumpy?” Bev sat down across from Dan in the other chair. “Did you work up the nerve to ask her what's wrong?”
Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12) Page 6