04 - Shock and Awesome (17 page)

 
   
Solomon's neighbors' home was gorgeously decorated, like it was lifted from the pages of a magazine. I dropped the keys onto the hall console and slipped off my shoes, feeling quite at home as I moved around the elegant house. Everything was just right and discreetly expensive. If I had to live here for real, I wouldn't object. However, I would probably remove the tiny video cameras Solomon and the crew had installed around the house, the live feeds of which were streaming straight to the bank of screens Solomon told me he set up in his spare bedroom. Not that he invited me in to see it. The niggling anxiety in the pit of my stomach couldn't help feed the wonder that maybe, just maybe, Solomon's beautiful house guest had something to do with my lack of invite.

 
   
Was she watching me poke around this house? I wondered. Did she know that not so long ago, I'd been more to Solomon than just an employee? And did she care? Biggest question: when did Solomon have a chance to meet her? As far as I was aware, he was no social butterfly. He worked, worked, and worked some more. Did he know her before he met me? Before we shared intimate moments? Or was he so bowled over by her beauty that she used it to her advantage and moved in on my...

 
   
"Whoa!" I said to the empty pristine, black granite and oak kitchen. "Don't go there!" Solomon was most definitely
not
my man.

 
   
Before I could analyze my thought processes any further, the doorbell rang, sending chimes tinkling through the house. I took my time walking to the door, after stepping into my patent leather black pumps, smoothing my hair, and giving my reflection an appreciative look. I looked damn fine and I wasn't even being vain. My hair hung loose and glossy about my shoulders, the mid-lengths in a gentle curl that looked natural and not like it took Lily forty minutes and a truckload of swearing at the heated brush. My dress was short, black, and perfectly fitted; and, on this occasion, from my own closet. I did, however, borrow the diamond ear studs from my sister, and Solomon, clearly calling in a favor with the bracelet. I didn't know from whom or where, but I could tell the diamonds was the real deal. Like the house, it was discreet, classy, and very expensive. I bet it cost more than a year's salary. Maybe even two.

 
   
My cell phone trilled so I plucked it from my purse. The text was from Solomon. “Stop preening and answer the door,” it read.
Jerk.
He didn't even issue a compliment. I'd obviously paled into insignificance next to his supermodel girlfriend, I thought, pouting sulkily in the mirror. I turned in the general vicinity of the nearest camera, stuck out my tongue, and prepared to answer the door, remembering to stand straight, with my shoulders back.

 
   
My date-slash-suspect-number-three was even better than his photographs. By “better,” I mean my tongue flopped out of my mouth and licked the door frame before I rolled it back up. He was hot.
Hottie
McHoterson
hot. Tall, athletic. Dark brown hair, short on top. Clean-shaven with a strong, square jaw and the most mesmerizing brown eyes. He smelled delicious. If there were a catalog of men I could date, I would pick him first, no problem.

 
   
"Wow," he said, casting an appreciative glance from my top to my toes. "Looks like I struck the big time."

 
   
A blush crept over my cheeks. Now
that
was a comment I liked hearing. I hoped Solomon was taking notes, not that it would do me any good. Come to think of it, I don't even know why I thought about him so much. And now was most definitely not the time. Hello,
Hottie
!

 
   
"Great to meet you," I said, holding out my hand. Ben took it in his, leaning closer, and kissing me on the cheek. Then I died and went to heaven. Not really. Actually, we got into the back of his chauffeur-
driver
town car and went to dinner.

 
   
Ben chose Riverside for our date, a very fancy fish restaurant that, funnily enough, was located next to a river. So, it wasn't a marina with yachts bobbing on soft waves, but the owners had plenty of boating memorabilia. Lifejackets and oars decorated the white walls along with a large, black and white photo triptych of a catamaran leaping waves.

 
   
"Which interests you most? Sailing or art?" Ben asked as we were led past a cluster of other diners to our window table.

 
   
"Art," I said, because I excelled at looking at stuff. "You?"

 
   
"Sailing's my passion," Ben admitted as he took his chair opposite mine. "I have a yacht that I like to take out when the weather is good."

 
   
"Is it moored locally? Well, not locally since we're not exactly close to the sea but..." I struggled for the words.

 
   
"New York. I keep an apartment in Manhattan."

 
   
"So what pulled you away from Manhattan and the yacht to Montgomery? Aren't we a little sleepy for you?"

 
   
"Not hardly. I find Montgomery a very refreshing town; plus, it's close enough to Boston if I want some city life. I feel I can relax here. Is that what drew you here too?"

 
   
I shook my head. "I grew up here."

 
   
"In Chilton?"

 
   
"No. I moved there recently." Yeah, like an hour ago. Ben smiled politely at that and didn't probe any further. Instead, he looked up as the waiter approached with the wine menu, and browsed it for a moment. "Shall we have white?" he asked. "Any preference?"

 
   
"Why don't you order after we've chosen our meals?" I suggested. "Wine says a lot about a man." Okay, so I made that up. Really, it said a lot about this woman. It said I didn't know much about ordering wine and I was pretty certain the wine stashed in my apartment's kitchen wouldn't meet Ben's expectations. It was a lot closer to an "Oops, my paycheck ran out" budget than my fake heiress status; but then, how did I know if Ben wasn't a fraud too?

 
   
With such a handsome, attractive man giving me interest, it was at times, a little hard to remember why I was there: to catch him out in a lie, if not entice him to commit a crime. He was in no way an actual date because even if he were
bonafide
, I wasn't. Yet as we talked, I found myself liking him, his easy personality, the way he could turn anything into humor, along with the casual comments he made about his life and hopes. Even the indiscreet moments where we swapped stories of our worst dates (I left out David's) were funny. As he insisted on taking care of the bill, then escorting me hand-in-hand to the waiting car, I found myself hoping he wasn't the guy we were looking for. Yet, all the attributes I found so attractive about him were all the ones that would gain him the confidence of any healthy woman.

 
   
"Allow me," said Ben, exiting the car first and extending his hand. I took it, allowing him to help me out of the car. My heel caught the curb and I stumbled into him, pressing my hands against his firm chest. I looked up, my heart beating faster as he dipped his head. Instead of setting me to rights, his lips landed softly on mine with the most delicate kiss. When he stepped away, I was breathless. "Good night,
Lexi
. Until we meet again." He disappeared into the town car and blew me a kiss, speeding away as I stood on the sidewalk watching him leave.

 
   
"Get a grip," I told myself, "It was just a kiss." I gave myself a mental shake before turning to walk up the steps of the house, and letting myself in. Almost as soon as I entered, my cell phone rang.

 
   
"Debrief," said Solomon.

 
   
"Okay, Snappy. I was just gathering my thoughts."

 
   
Solomon breathed. I held the phone with my shoulder and head cocked to one side while I undid the wire under my dress and pulled it out. I wound it up and put it in its little pouch.

 
   
"He was nice," I said finally. "You heard everything he asked me. Very attentive, interested, polite. The perfect gentleman. Almost too perfect."

 
   
"How did he compare to Lord
Camberwell
?"

 
   
"Both definitely extracted enough information from me to make some kind of judgment on whether I was a good target. Justin was a bit pushier. Ben held back a little, I think. I doubt it was due to lack of confidence. Something else, maybe, but I can't put my finger on it. He left me with a good impression. A better one than Justin."

 
   
"If you were leaning towards one as a suspect, whom would you choose?"

 
   
"Neither right now. It's too early." Damn it. I was going to have to date both of them some more. Life could be so hard sometimes. "If the thief wanted to get my confidence, I'd say Ben won that one. If he wanted information, it's a tie."

 
   
"I’ll let you know if the team agrees," said Solomon. He paused and I waited, wondering what was on his mind. "How was the kiss?" he asked.

 
   
I thought long and hard about that. Actually, it was short and quick because I didn't want to dwell on it. It was nice. Delicate. It made my heart race. I might even want another shot just to see if I really liked it, but would I tell Solomon that? No way. "Goodnight, Solomon," I said. "Let me know about my next date."

 
   
"Talk tomorrow," was all Solomon said, and I let him have the satisfaction of hanging up on me.

 
   
~

 
   
After such a nice evening, even if it was a job, the thought of going straight home to my empty apartment and empty bed was too depressing. The image of my new, and now ex-neighbor's, packing boxes would just make me obsess on the thrilling task of packing up my home in preparation for homelessness. So, I did what I always did in moments like this. I want to my happy place: the bungalow halfway between
Harbridge
and my apartment.

 
   
I liked going there to imagine what my life would be like if I lived there, and this evening was no different. Pulling up a short distance down the street, I parked and gazed at the pretty, little house, softly lit by the moon. The silvery glow cast shadows across the lawn down to the white fence and over the For Sale by Owner sign.

 
   
I blinked. The For Sale sign.

 
   
"Holy guacamole!" I rubbed my eyes, blinked my vision back into play and looked again. Yep, still there. My dream house was for sale! All at once, I knew how Barbie felt. Except I didn't have a Ken, but, you know, whatever. Can't have everything, I reasoned.

 
   
I instantly wanted to get a closer look. I wanted to sit right outside the bungalow and gaze at it, pretending that I just bought it. I wanted to make believe that this was the home I was returning to after a hard day being wined and dined at fancy restaurants. "What a chore," I mumbled to myself, fully aware that my excitement made me babble. At least, no one could see me. Firing up the engine, and with a quick look around to make sure no curtains twitched at my late evening surveillance, I rolled the car forward until I was outside. I killed the engine, positioned my elbow on the door rest and cupped my chin. I also
smooshed
my nose against the window, but that was an accident. I sighed.

 
   
I don't know how long I sat there, staring in a mix of wonder and hope at my dream home, but my eyes were starting to glaze with daydreaming about furnishings, dinner parties, and a family by the time the front door opened and an older lady stepped out. She appeared to look my way. I lurched down in my seat and froze. Shoot. What if she thought I was casing the joint? Or that I was some weirdo? Of course, she could just be taking out the trash.