An Appointment With Murder (7 page)

“Max, this is my son, Brian. Brian, this is Max.” They shook hands and Max started sniffing the air.

“Something smells wonderful,” he said.

“My mom’s not the best cook,” Brian cautioned, “so don’t get your hopes up. We may end up ordering pizza tonight.”

“Thanks a lot, buster!” I said, snapping the dishtowel with which I’d just cleaned the counter over his forearm and laughing.

“Hey, either way sounds good to me,” Max said agreeably.

“Well, at least now we have the wine,” I said, heading towards the kitchen for the corkscrew. “The more we drink, the better the food will taste.”

Max followed me. “Your son is pretty funny,” he said, handing me the wine bottle.

“He’s a good kid,” I said, extracting the cork and filling two glasses, “but I never see him anymore. It’s all about the friends these days.”

“He’s a teenager,” Max replied. “You’re lucky he even talks to you.”

I laughed as I handed him one of the goblets and picked up the other one.

“To Beth,” I said, raising the glass.

Max smiled and nodded. We sipped the wine and sat opposite one another at the kitchen table.

“So, what was your relationship with your sister like growing up?” I asked.

Max set his glass on the table, placed his hands in his lap, and stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, typical I guess. She was five years younger and I suppose I was a little protective of her. She thought I was a big snore.” He smiled. “Anyway, we’d grown much closer since our parents died a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“Car accident. They had both retired the year before and were always talking about going on a cross-country road trip, just the two of them. They kept putting it off for one reason or another. Finally, Beth and I convinced them to go. For their anniversary we got them a GPS.” He picked up his glass and swished the wine around a few times.

“That is so awful. I’m sorry,” I said.

I tried to compensate for the awkwardness of the moment by getting up to check on our dinner. When I looked over at him, the stem of his wine glass was in the air. I felt such profound sadness for him. Life had dealt him some pretty shitty cards. His parents were gone, and now his sister. I was almost afraid to ask about a girlfriend. But I did.

“So, Max, do you have a pretty young lady in your life?”

“Her name is Marsha Brady. She’s been living with me for two years now,” he said, smiling up at me as I refilled his wine glass.

“Her name is really Marsha Brady?” I said, laughing.

“Well, that’s what I named her two years ago when I brought her home from the breeder,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

I couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Aren’t you a little young to remember that show? You weren’t even alive in the seventies,” I said, immediately regretting opening the Pandora’s box of the age thing.

“Well, you’re not much older than me, Sarah,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

“Ha, you’re funny.”

“What? How old are you?”

“You know it’s not polite to ask a woman her age, but I’ll tell you anyway. I’m forty-two.” I smiled at his seemingly genuine look of surprise.

“Well, you look great,” he said, elevating his wine glass and winking.

“So what kind of dog is Marsha Brady?” I asked, trying to ignore his flattery.

“She’s an English Bulldog, and the love of my life.”

“Oh God,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re one of those.”

After dinner, Max announced that he and Brian would clean up. Max refilled my wine glass and told me to sit back and relax. I didn’t object. In fact, I took great pride in watching my son doing chores.

They were just about finished when the phone rang. I ignored it, but Brian ran over and answered it.

“Hi Dad,” he said, taking it into the other room.

Max looked over at me and gave me a look I couldn’t quite read. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and joined me at the kitchen table.

“So, can I ask you a personal question?” he asked, and blinked at me.

“Sure.”

“Are you happily married?”

I was hoping the topic wouldn’t come up, but I’d stalled as long as I could.

“Wow. That’s a loaded question,” I said. “You want the long or short version?”

“It’s a simple yes or no.”

“I wish it were simple, but it isn’t.” I dropped my eyes but could feel his burning a hole in my forehead.

“So how long have you been unhappy?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Things haven’t been good for years. He’s a good dad, you know, but when it comes to me I feel like he always has something better to do.”

“He doesn’t appreciate you?”

“That’s how I feel, but maybe I expect too much.”

“What do you expect?”

It was the same question I’d asked myself for years.

“I need friendship and mutual respect, at least. I just want us to be silly and laugh together. I don’t need flowers or even hot sex, just someone I can really relate to.” Having said much more than I intended, I took another sip of wine, listened to see if I could hear Brian still talking to his dad.

“I imagine you want to talk with him,” Max said quietly. “I don’t mind waiting.” He extended a hand as if to say
go ahead.

Sighing audibly, I nodded and went into the living room. Finding Brian sitting on the couch, I gestured to him and he said good-bye to his dad and handed me the phone.

“Hey, there. How’s Miami?” I asked.

“Busy,” he said. “You know how it is. Jerry is being a royal pain in the ass. I might have to stay a few days longer than expected.”

“I understand.” I wondered if he detected my lack of disappointment, or lack of interest in his lack of any real explanation.

“It’s not too late for you to come down. It’s eighty degrees. How can you pass that up?” I heard an earnestness in his voice that nearly broke my heart. Maybe he really was starting to make an effort with us.

“I have to go back to work tomorrow, and I have a lot to catch up on at the office,” I said, trying to think of another excuse, but Daniel saved me the effort.

“I figured as much. But you can’t fault me for trying, right?”

“I’m glad you understand, Dan. Maybe Brian and I can tag along on your next business trip,” I said, knowing full well how nearly impossible it would be to pry Brian away from his friends for even one day.

“Okay, then, I’ll let you go for now. Goodnight.”

In typical Daniel fashion, he neglected to ask how my life was going. Hadn’t even waited for my goodnight. I wondered if he even remembered Beth’s service. Then again, who was I to complain? Hadn’t I just conveniently neglected to mention that I had a charming, handsome, young guest at the house for dinner. My bad.

I returned to the kitchen just in time to see Max polishing off what was left of the wine. He seemed to be doing a good job of drowning his sorrows. I knew I had a quick decision to make. Was I going to encourage his progress down the path he was on or gather him up and send him on his way?

“So, Max, what do you think?” I asked, looking down at the empty glass in his hand.

“I think we need more wine,” he said, smiling up at me.

I reached over and silenced the snooze alarm, then sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, a throbbing pain at the base of my skull. I tried to recall the night before, how much wine I’d consumed. What had I been thinking? Had Max and I killed another bottle after the first? Had he driven home drunk?

I wandered out of the bedroom to check on Brian, realizing he must have already left for school, and saw Max lying on the couch, fast asleep by the sound of his snoring. He was supine, clothed, uncovered. I stood there watching him breathe, for some reason could not take my eyes off him. He looked peaceful, curly hair flattened on one side. Was the urge I fought to lean over and run my fingers through it a sweet, maternal one, I wondered, or something more?

Fortitude won out this time and I went into the kitchen and poured water into the coffee maker, adding a few extra tablespoons of grounds to the filter. As the coffee percolated, I chased three Advil with a large glass of water. Max walked in as I was pouring the first cup of java.

“Morning,” I said, with all the cheerfulness I could muster. “Need some of this stuff?” I held up my mug.

“Bless you,” he said, taking it from my hands. “And thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t attempt to drive last night,” I said, filling another mug for myself.

“Yeah. I was pretty out of it.”

“My memory of last night is a little fuzzy, especially after we commenced on the second bottle. What’d we talk about?”

“What didn’t we talk about?” he replied, laughing. “You were quite the jabber mouth. Wine for you is like truth serum.” His laughter revealed dimples.

“Did I make a complete fool of myself?”

“You were adorable.”

Adorable. What did he mean by that, I wondered?

“Do you have to work today?” I inquired.

“I’m between jobs at the moment. I sold my company a few months ago and I’m taking some time off.”

“Really? I’ve been thinking of making a career change as well. It just seems easier to stay with what I know than to risk everything to try something new. But the choice could be out of my hands,” I added, “if the two women I overheard at the gym alleging that I was selling hand jobs spread their gossip. It would ruin my business.”

“Or help it,” Max said with a straight face.

I punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously,” I mock pouted, “it’s not good.”

“Sorry. It’s just that you look so cute when you’re angry.”

I didn’t respond to that, and he must have sensed my discomfort because his demeanor changed.

“So, are you working today?” he asked, looking down into his mug.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I need to get ready. My first appointment is at nine.” I took another gulp of coffee and deposited my mug in the sink.

“Thanks again for dinner last night. And . . . thanks for your friendship.” He set his mug down, pushed his chair away from the table, and stood up. Then he stepped towards me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled me in close. As his warm breath on my neck sent chills down my back, it occurred to me that I had known him for less than a week.

“Keep in touch,” I said, realizing how lame I sounded. I was at a loss for words.

“Sure,” he said, nodding, as he slowly released me, then turned to leave.

Watching him walk to my door, I felt a tightness in my heart that moved up into my throat and blocked the words that never came out. I just waved as he opened the door and stepped outside.

* * *

When my last client had left, I walked into the bathroom to wash my hands. I found myself settling back into the warm, familiar feeling of my old life. There was comfort to be found in the mundane details of day-to-day life. I had dried my hands on the towel and was making my way out to the reception area when I noticed someone sitting in the adjacent waiting room. Peeking around the corner, I saw that it was Detective Flynn. He must have sensed me standing there, and stood up.

“Good afternoon, Sarah. Is this a bad time?” he asked, looking around to see if I was alone.

“I’m done working. What’s up?”

“I’ve got some information about Lindy.” He withdrew his notebook from his bag and motioned for me to sit.

“Lindy Brightman,” he said, taking a seat opposite me and clearing his throat. “Jacob had a restraining order issued against her over a year ago.”

“A restraining order?”

“It was around the same time he started seeing Beth.”

“Why?”

“According to the report, she’d been stalking him. Showed up at his work a few times and made a hell of a scene. He filed the restraining order last September, but never renewed it.”

“And yet he’s defending her now. Why?”

“That’s the question I’ll be asking him when he comes back to the station later today.”

“So where is Lindy? Aren’t you going to question her, too?”

“Ah. Yes. We’ve been trying to locate her. She’s on vacation.”

“How convenient. This makes her look guiltier than ever,” I said, realizing that I was wringing my hands.

“We’ll see if Jacob changes his story. But like I told you before, their alibi checks out. According to the bartender at Barney’s, Jacob and Lindy were there together until ten that night.” He returned his notebook to his bag, stood, and walked towards the door. “We went through her phone records,” he added, turning back. “Nothing suspicious. If Lindy did hire someone to kill Beth, she covered her tracks well.”

“What about evidence from the crime scene?” I asked, getting up and crossing the room. “Did you find any fingerprints or hair fibers?”

“The prints we lifted were all from your clients and employees. We’re not closing the case by any means; we just have to wait for something to come to light.”

“I see,” I said, extending my hand.

“Thanks for your time, Sarah.” He shook it and walked out.

Minutes later, as I was getting ready to leave, Gabby walked in.

“I’m so glad to see you back in action,” she said. “How’d work go today?”

“Fine. Although I was pretty hung over this morning.”

“What’d you do last night?”

“Max came over for dinner. We shared two bottles of wine,” I offered, matter-of-factly.

“Two bottles? I’m surprised you were able to function today. Anything interesting happen?”

“No. Brian was there. Max slept on the couch and left this morning after coffee.”

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Gabby said, squeezing my cheek like a child’s and shaking her head.

“Yeah, right. He’s ten years younger than me. Like he would even find me attractive. Give me a break, Gabby.” I swatted her hand away playfully.

“What difference does that make? You’re a sexy, experienced, older woman. Younger guys love that shit,” Gabby said, and I started to laugh.

“Okay, but there is one minor detail you’re forgetting. I’m married,” I said a little louder than necessary.

“And younger guys love that shit even more.

* * *