A Date With Fate (44 page)

Kenna texted she was happy we were still alive as of ten o’clock this morning. She was at a friend’s in White Bear Lake and not coming to dinner.

This led to me calling Mac about Candy. That led to a thirty minute conversation about The Hammer and Cheryl Crookston, but talking with Mac was good. We’ve always been sounding boards to each other and talk over life’s issues together. My sis can be depended upon to be practical and level-headed—except for the going crazy every eighteen years part. The upside to our conversation was her reaffirmation I probably wasn’t in any imminent danger of catching some foul plague from the grossness plastered all over me upstairs. I don’t think I ate any of Gustav’s guts, or absorbed any through my eyeballs, open sores, or Queen Vicky.

The downside to my call was that it led to me being blackmailed into doing a dessert for tonight. I was making an apple crisp with a crumble topping about three inches thick. This was Diego’s favorite dessert. It was also the vig for Mac agreeing to get Candy over here sometime before five—no questions asked.

If I needed any further proof Mac is wild about her husband, her choice for dessert said it all. She’s a chocolate girl all the way. This was giving it up for love in action.

I worked in my home office for an hour on store business. Thankfully, no pedestrians were nearby when the glass fell from the turret window down onto the sidewalk. The mess was swept up and the window had been boarded shut. Due to my freakish need for control, I was happy to be the one taking care of any store related issues concerning The Hammers’s death. So what if I basically followed the same format as Luke had yesterday. The splitting hairs detail that it was me handling the issues had a way of making everything sunshiny in my world.

Jazy and Tre had done themselves proud and didn’t miss an item on my grocery list. I cranked the music and got busy cooking. If I was banging pots and pans around a little louder than I normally did in the kitchen, it was for a good cause.

“Beat a Pan, Save a Man” was my new motto.

Not knowing how many would show up tonight, I’d decided on soup, salad, and breadsticks for the menu. I finished the chicken wild rice soup, with a smaller pot of mushroom wild rice soup for the non-flesh eaters. My salad greens were washed and chilling, I whisked together the raspberry vinaigrette, sliced strawberries, red onion, and a Gouda cheese, made cracked black pepper croutons, and toasted some walnuts in a little honey. I prepared rosemary breadsticks ready for the oven, and. I whipped up several pots of herb butter.

Cooking is zen-like for me. I wouldn’t want to cook three squares a day for a large brood, but I loved having dinner parties and entertaining in my apartment. As I whisked and diced and boiled and stirred, I let my mind free fall where it would.

‘Geez Louise, we have long phone conversations. What could possibly be the reason for Luke keeping a law degree hush-hush? Did he have so many talents and degrees he couldn’t keep track of them all? Who can keep secrets like that, anyway? Most men bragged their butts off until you wanted to pay them to stop! He was a damn, tight-lipped freak of nature--was what he was.’

Peeling and cutting up the Honey Crisp apples, I absently munched on a juicy slice as I then recalled a comment I wanted Reggie to expand on from yesterday. It niggled and wouldn’t stop, so I called him.

He was vegging out watching the game but it was a commercial break, so I was absolved. Courtesies were exchanged. We agreed we each felt much better now. We agreed we would refer to The Hammer’s murder as a joint effort to keep the peace between us.

Then I asked, “What did you mean yesterday in reference to Cheryl Crookston when you said she was a ‘ditch-digging whore’?”

“Ah, yes. How erudite of me. Jack nailed Cheryl for a DUI awhile back. She got fined and sentenced to do some community service hours. It was picking up trash in the ditches on the side of roads. She tried to get out of it.”

I smiled at that scenario. I also complimented Reg on his impressive usage of last Friday’s “Word-of-the-Day”. Jazy had jokingly given us all the same calendars last Christmas in our respective stockings.

“Oh yeah, how did that work for Cheryl?”

“I think she offered up her services to Jack in another capacity. Well, you know ol’ Jack,” Reggie’s voice was ripe with innuendo, “the job always comes first. Cheryl did her time in the ditches.”

I snickered, but my hands stilled for a beat in the process of combining the crumble topping ingredients. I thought of my brother’s streaked blonde hair and husky, muscular build. I couldn’t believe where my Law and Order SUV voice in my head was leading me. No wonder his comment had niggled in the back of my mind.

Reg’s hair is like mine. It’s streaked with different colors from the darkest brown to whitest blonde. The white blonde streaks dominate the more sun we get. Since he works outdoors throughout much of the year, his top layer of hair is often bleached platinum blonde by the sun.

“Huh.” was my less than erudite reply. I got busy again cutting in the softened sticks of butter with the flour, brown sugar, chopped pecans, and spices. This was going to be the mother of a huge pan of apple crisp happiness.

I asked casually, “Off topic, do you ever lend out your truck to friends? For instance, speaking of Jack; does he ever borrow your work truck to get supplies when he’s doing projects around his place?”

“Tell me you aren’t thinking of borrowing my truck?”

“You’re too funny.”

Chuckling, he said, “Sure, he’s used my truck lots of times. Why do you ask?”

With perfect timing, I heard a roar of cheering from the television in the background. “I hear the game’s back on, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

‘
Was I really thinking Jack was the man in bed with Cheryl Crookston the night Crookie spied on her?’

I didn’t want to even contemplate Jack could be Cheryl’s killer. I shook off that disquieting thought after telling my detective voice it had better shut up, or we would tangle. However, if he was the man Crookie saw it sure explained why he was so determined to control what information I received on her murder. I could easily see him writhing in embarrassment if I found out he had been screwing her. She was a girl my age, not only married to one of my friends, but a woman that he had also arrested.

My smile outdid a Cheshire cat. ‘
Jack, Jack, Oh Jack.’

With a lighter heart, and singing along with Sara Barilles because she begged me from my iPod, I cautiously danced around and cleaned up. Finished with KP duty, I went to change out of my flour dusted yoga pants and T shirt. I had fun over the next hour doing girly-girl stuff.

I scrutinized my closet offerings. I chose a royal blue, gauzy peasant blouse stitched with black velvet embroidery. The shirt has an empire neckline and sheer, black embroidered sleeves. It was an exotically fanciful shirt; and it billowed when I twirled. I felt like a pregnant, gypsy queen. A perfect choice it you planned on eating a lot, or dancing around a campfire. I wove my clean, shining hair in a loose side braid that hung down my front, and tied off the end with a black silk ribbon.

Going with the gypsy theme, I put on make-up to accent what I consider my best features; my eyes. Not only have I been blessed with two of them, but they’re a dark blue color with touches of gray. I have long black lashes and dark, naturally arching brows. Otherwise, I like my face, but it’s nothing extraordinary to write home about.

NanaBel and her friends say I have the look of a young Ann-Margaret. Most people my age have no clue who a young Ann-Margaret is unless they’ve watched old Elvis Presley movies. I don’t know who I resembled, but I would best describe my looks in more modern terms as the girl-next-door type, only with a D cup.

Putting on dangly earrings made of lapis lazuli, I heard the sound of the apartment door bell. Checking my cell, I saw it was 3:45 PM. It was Reggie and I buzzed him up.

He arrived at the top of the stairs with two six-packs. “I was bored after the game, and I decided to come over early to bug you.”

“Oh, lucky me.” I scooted past his half-hearted swipe with a laugh, we were both still moving a little slower than normal. “Do me a favor? Go taste the soup and tell me if it needs anything, would you please? I’ll be right there.” I called back over my shoulder, “But do not add anything yourself, Salty Sam, or I’ll go for your femoral.”

“You can try, but it may be awfully hard with the back of your head blown off.” Reggie responded as he went to taste.

From my bedroom, I heard the TV flipped on in the living room. Sports blared. My alone time, rejuvenating afternoon was officially over. I was leaving the bathroom when the doorbell rang again. Reggie beat me to the master station.

He threw me an odd look as he spoke into the intercom, “Hang on a minute.” He motioned me over with his head. “Junior, come here.” He stepped aside for me to peer at the small screen. “Is that Mike McClain?”

I took a quick glance and saw a tiny image of Mike McClain for the first time in almost ten years. My first reaction was to stand back, as if burned.

Recovering from my shock, I murmured, “He’s moved back to town recently.”

“Hey, that’s great! Should I buzz him up?”

I heard the note of eagerness in Reg’s voice. When he was in his teens, my brother had hero worshipped the older Mike. He was the older brother Reg never had, but always wanted.

I had triumphed over a murdering rapist today, Mike McClain was small potatoes. “I guess.”

Reg pressed the intercom. “Mike, this is Reg. I’m buzzing both doors unlocked. Come on up, man!”

I waited at the top of the stairs, but Reggie went down to the landing in his excitement at seeing Mike. Their hearty greetings and backslapping echoed loudly in the stairwell. It was strange hearing Mike’s voice again in my apartment after all this time. Luke’s voice was low and deeper, a baritone. Mike’s was a tenor. He still sounded laid back and friendly, a man at his ease in any social situation. He is a practicing corporate lawyer with clients to charm, so I’m sure his natural openness was fine tuned over the intervening years.

“Reg, it’s good seeing you! What are you up to these days?” When his eyes looked up to see me at the top of the stairs, Mike stopped speaking. A smile burst across his face. He recovered his stride and came up to where I was standing. I didn’t return his smile, but waited politely.

“Hello, Bel.” he said softly.

Mike’s about six-feet tall, athletic, solid and muscular. Anna would be happy I could see for myself he was neither fat nor balding. The scumbag looked great. He had fully matured into the man he was just promising to become at twenty. Back then, he was considered boy-band worthy by my girlfriends. Mike was one of those rare golden blondes with dark brows and a dark brown beard—not blonde or red. I could not watch the TV series “LOST” when it aired, even though Anna and Mac raved over it and never missed a week for years. Mike was a dead ringer for the character Sawyer. The resemblance was too eerie and too much of a reminder.

“Mike.” I replied evenly, stepping back a little.

Mike ran a hand through his hair, shorter now and more golden brown than blonde. He probably didn’t spend the summer outdoors working construction anymore. The nervous gesture was familiar, though, and I felt a tug of remembrance before I shut it down.

He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “Thanks for agreeing to see me today. I know it’s rude to stop by this way, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I took a chance you’d be here, or in the store. I noticed the store’s closed early today.”

His glance moved past me. He was taking in the yellow police tape on the attic door at the end of the hallway.

“Not too big a chance you wouldn’t find me here.” I ignored his inquiry about Bel’s hours. I looked at Reggie, standing off to the side and clearly curious. “Listen, Mike is only here for a few minutes to talk about something.” I raised my brows at Mike. “I assume you want your five minutes of talking in private?”

Mike gave my brother’s shoulder a friendly, pretend punch. “I did come by to see your sister for a minute, but let’s you and me get together later this week. Does that work for you?”

Reggie grinned broadly. “Sounds good, Mike. I’ll have you out to the lake house. It’s getting cold as a witches tit out there, but we’re men and can still grill on the deck, am I right?”

Mike laughed and agreed. Reggie fished out one of his business cards from his wallet, and then went back into the living room to watch football. My brother wasn’t being disloyal to me, it had been too long for him to give the past a thought. He and I had never talked in detail about why Mike and I broke-up. He had been on a camping trip up in the Boundary Waters at the time and missed the gossip. I never brought Mike up, Mike’s parents moved, and Reggie got on with his busy, teenage life. To him, Mike McClain was just a fond memory of one of his sister’s boyfriends.

“Follow me.” I didn’t wait, but went down the hallway. I passed my closed bedroom door. The next room on the left was Reggie’s old boyhood bedroom, now serving as my home office.

I could feel Mike’s gaze on me as I lead the way. It figured that I was wearing my pregnant, gypsy shirt and jeans, instead of something tight or short. He probably thought I’d gone to fat. Not that I cared what he thought, but this weekend really sucked.

I opened the door and waved him into the office. As Mike passed me by, I caught a whiff of the clean scent integral to him that always reminded me of a sunny day outdoors.

Suddenly I felt sad and drained; I wanted this next five minutes over. Mike could take his prosperous, golden boy looks and get back to whatever life he’d been leading these last ten years. It wasn’t going to shake up my life he’d chosen to move back to Northfield.

Mike waited politely until I sat in my desk chair before he took a nearby chair. After I endured a moment of his silence while he stared at me without speaking, I frowned and motioned for him to get on with it.

He sat forward, hands lightly rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. “I’ll get right to the point. I have come across some information that reflects on what happened all those years ago…” I started to get up, but he talked louder, “No, wait Bel. I know we never spoke of that time and you don’t want to now, but please, hear me out completely. Please?”