Finding Mr. Right (19 page)

She sat alone in the staff cafeteria eating a tuna fish sandwich. “Mind if I join you?”

She glanced up and saw Matt, though she would have recognized his voice even if she hadn’t seen him. “Any progress with that little mystery?” he asked her.

“You bet. Fuller is our man. His brother has a tie to more than one escort service.”

“I’m sure Whitley will be glad to get that cleared up. What did he say when you told him?”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

Matt stopped in the process of cutting a piece of cheese. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t you reach him?”

“I wanted to think it through. I’ll call him when I get back to my office.”

Matt have her a long and bemused look. “Yeah, but don’t tell him you’ve known this all day and waited till two-thirty to tell him.”

“What? You’re right. In my anger, I wanted to sock it to Fuller myself, but I realize I should let Byron take care of it. Thanks.”

“I’m sure he’ll do a good job of it. Good luck.”

Byron watched his junior partner leave his office crestfallen. He’d been hard on the man, harder than necessary perhaps, but he was in a foul mood, and Ben’s sloppy handling of that case had done nothing to brighten his outlook. When his phone rang, he ignored it. But after a lengthy ring, his secretary answered it.

“Byron, Ms. Cunningham is on line one.” He did not want
to speak with her, didn’t want to hear the voice that would trigger in him reminders of his dried up dreams. “She says it’s urgent, Byron.”

“Hello, Tyra, what’s up?”

“Hello, Byron. I have some information that may interest you.” She began by telling him of Christopher Fuller and his interest in her, and he was on the verge of telling her that the matter was of no interest to him when she said, “The driver of that limousine was Rodney Fuller, and among other jobs, he transports workers and their clients for different escort services.”

His antenna shot up. “If you have a pen handy,” she continued, “this is the phone number, and I’ve checked with the Taxi and Limousine Commissioner’s officer.”

He sat forward, “Are you sure your colleague is behind this?”

“I am absolutely positive. He came by my office this morning to gloat, asked me how things were going with you, and I had no idea he knew you and I had a relationship. He said he made it a point to know what his competition was doing. He’s hit on every woman who works here, and if you check, I’m sure you will discover that he uses that service. I’m sorry about that and about a lot of things, Byron. I sincerely hope you’ll make certain that Christopher Fuller gets what he deserves. Here is the information for the person you should contact here at LAC. Good luck with it.”

“I’m going to follow this up today, Tyra, and I’ll let you know the outcome. I want you to know that I…I appreciate your taking the trouble to dig into this. It tells me more than words could have. I’ll be in touch. Uh…Tyra, thank you.”

He sat back in his chair, flicking his fingernails. If she had believed that guy, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to find out why the limousine driver made the accusation and the name of the person with whom he was in cahoots. It was something to go on, and he cherished it. Maybe…

B
yron propped his left elbow on his desk and supported his chin with the palm of his left hand. In the practice of law, he’d met a lot of unprincipled people, but he didn’t think any surpassed Christopher Fuller, a man who made a living counseling others. He didn’t believe in “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” but he did believe that criminals should pay for their unsavory deeds. He could sue the man for defamation of character, but he didn’t want the guy’s money; no amount of it would compensate for the pain he endured at Tyra’s lapse of trust and belief in him. He lifted the telephone receiver and dialed the Taxi and Limousine Commissioner’s office.

“Hello, Ken. This is Byron. Can you verify this for me, please? It’s a personal matter, and it’s very important.” He related in detail the purpose of his call. “What? The guy mis-represented me.” He took notes while his friend and fraternity brother talked. Fifteen minutes later, he hung up, satisfied that he had the information he needed. So officials suspected
Rodney Fuller of being a part of a prostitution ring, and of covering it with one general transportation vehicle used for parties, weddings and other occasions. But he used his other cars to transport girls to and from their johns. Mr. Fuller had given himself the task of embarrassing him in order to destroy Tyra’s confidence in him. Christopher Fuller would rue the day he conjured up that scheme.

Using his official stationery, Byron wrote letters to the Legal Aid Center and to the Taxi and Limousine Commissioner in which he accused Christopher of orchestrating the deed, explaining the man’s motive for doing so and pointing out that he had never seen, spoken with or met Christopher Fuller. He had the letters notarized and mailed them. If he didn’t get satisfaction, he’d take the matter to court.

He should have felt better about it, but the pain remained. He still went home to his four-year-old son every night to explain why he hadn’t brought Tyra back to see the child or taken him to see Tyra, and he still tossed in his bed nightly aching for her. He knew she didn’t think that of him, but trust in him hadn’t been paramount in her thinking about him. It was now, he knew, because that incident had forced her to think, but she’d already delivered those awful scars. He tried to edit a brief he’d prepared for a court session two days hence, but he pushed it aside. Dammit, he loved her. He packed the brief in his briefcase, telling himself he’d get to it later, told his secretary that he was leaving for the day and went home.

He opened the door. Not a sound. Momentarily alarmed, he relaxed and slumped into a dining room chair. For a moment, he’d forgotten that at two-thirty, Andy hadn’t come home from school and in fact Jonie had gone to pick him up. He went to the kitchen, looked first in the refrigerator and then in the freezer, didn’t see anything interesting and decided to take Andy and Jonie out to dinner. He wrote a note
to Jonie, taped it to the refrigerator, got his brief and a bottle of beer and went out on the back porch to work. His cell phone rang.

“Byron, can you speak with Clark Cunningham?” his secretary asked him.

If anything had happened to her, he’d… “Sure, put him on. What’s up Clark? It’s good to hear from you.” He said the latter as an afterthought.

“I’m fine, I hope. I’m trying to track down Tyra.”

He bolted upright. “Tyra? Man, what are you talking about?”

“Maggie said she left home this morning at the usual time, dressed as if she was going to work, but she’s not at her office and she doesn’t answer her cell phone.”

“She called me around ten-thirty this morning, but she didn’t mention leaving her office.” He thought for a second. “But I can’t see any reason why she should have mentioned it. What’s going through your mind, Clark? Is that all Maggie said? Did you call Darlene?”

“Naw. I’ll call Darlene as a last resort. She is so full of drama that she’d alert the White House. Maybe I’m overdoing it, but while I can understand her leaving work early— I’ve done it myself plenty of times—I can’t see why she doesn’t answer her cell phone. I’ll be in touch.”

After checking Tyra’s office phone and her cell phone and being unable to locate her, Byron contemplated his next move. Now what? How was he supposed to work when Tyra could be in danger or worse…? He didn’t want to think of alternatives. He went on the Internet, found the Legal Aid Center’s Web site, and checked its roster to see whether he knew any of the staff members. When he saw Matthew Cowan’s name among the volunteers, relief spread over him the way water spreads over even land. He wasn’t bosom buddies with the man, but he knew him well enough to call him.

“Cowan speaking.”

“Matt, this is Byron Whitley. I’m calling you for a favor. Have you seen Tyra Cunningham today?”

“Why, yes. I spoke with her at length shortly after ten this morning, and I saw her in the staff cafeteria at lunch time. She must be in her office.”

“She doesn’t answer there nor does she answer her cell phone.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll walk around there.” A minute later, Matt said, “She isn’t in her office, the coffee room or her supervisor’s office. I’ll check the staff lounge.” He returned a minute later. “The guard said he hadn’t seen her since she came to work this morning, and she’s not in the lounge. The women’s room is empty, because the light is green. I don’t know what else to tell you. Wait a second. This may take a minute longer.”

After two full minutes, Matt spoke to him. “I checked the one place I knew she wasn’t likely to be, but these days, you can’t tell. She’s not in this building. I won’t mention this unless she’s missing from home tonight. Okay?”

“Okay, Matt, and thanks. I’m in your debt.”

“Not at all, man. Tyra’s been a good colleague to me, and I appreciate your interest. Good luck.”

Byron hung up with a suspicion that Matt Cowan knew how Tyra felt about him, assumed it was mutual and had done his best to put him at ease. Had she confided to Cowan her unhappiness about the break in their relationship? He’d said he would check the one place he didn’t expect her to be, and logic said that meant he checked Christopher Fuller’s office. Hmm. So Fuller had a reputation among his colleagues. He rubbed his forehead. Where was she? He had to wait until her family’s dinnertime, and he didn’t see how he could stand it.

After her conversation—if you could call it that—with Byron, Tyra paced from one end of her office to another,
pushed papers around on her desk, went to the coffee room and decided that coffee wasn’t what she needed. On the way back to her office, she tapped on Lyle Riddick’s office door.

“If it’s urgent, come in, if it’s not, you know the rest.”

She opened her boss’s door and went in. “I’m washed out. I have one routine appointment this afternoon, and I’m going to postpone it and go home.”

“I’ve noticed that you haven’t seemed yourself for the past couple of weeks, although I haven’t found any problems with your work. Go someplace where you can be alone and think through whatever’s bothering you. And turn your cell phone off.”

“Thanks, Lyle, but I can’t think of such a place.”

“Sure you can. It’s not cold today, somewhere in the high sixties, so why not trek over to the river. There some nice views in Gambrill Park over near Hamburg Road especially around Pal’s Ridge. I’ve sat there many times so peacefully that I fell asleep. With so many joggers and women pushing baby carriages around there, it’s safe in the daytime.”

“I think I will.” She looked down at her feet, saw the heels and grimaced. She went to her office, changed into flat heel shoes, locked her briefcase in her desk and left the building. She rode the bus to about a block from the park, bought a magazine and a bottle of ginger ale from a newsstand and strolled along until she found a park bench. She thought that she couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful afternoon on which to sit outside in the sun. She looked in her purse for a Snickers bar, her comfort food, saw her cell phone and remembered Lyle’s advice that she should turn it off. But she saw that she’d never turned it on, and that she had calls from Clark, Byron, Maggie and Matt.

She phoned Byron.

“Where are you, Tyra?” he said with the urgency of a desperate man.

“I’m up in Gambrill Park. I…uh…nothing was going right,
so I…I forgot to turn on my cell phone.” Her heart began to race as hope surfaced within her. “Did you want to speak with me?”

“Clark didn’t know where you were, nor did anyone else, and I’ve been out of my mind with worry about where you could be or what could have happened to you.”

“It’s been too much for me, Byron, and after speaking with you this morning, and dealing with your cool detachment, I…it was too much for me.”

His long silence didn’t bother her; they couldn’t get much farther apart than they were. “It’s been too much for me, too, Tyra. Where are you in that park?” She told him. “Stay there.”

Was he coming to the park to be with her? She had a clear head, and she was not confused, but nothing made sense right then. She checked her cell phone. Yes, she had just spoken with Byron. He’d said wait, so she would. But each minute seemed like an hour, so anxious and flustered, she phoned Clark.

“Did you tell Byron that you couldn’t find me?”

“Where the heck are you?” She told him but added that Byron was on his way there and he shouldn’t come. “I’m fine. I needed some time alone. I guess I ought to thank you for telling Byron that you couldn’t find me. Maybe we’ll get back together.”

“I should think so. He was out of his mind when I told him I didn’t know your whereabouts.”

“I’m sorry if I caused you alarm, Clark. Would you please phone Maggie and tell her I don’t know what time I’ll get home, so she shouldn’t wait dinner for me.”

“Good idea. Pull out the stops, Sis. And remember that your pride won’t make you happy, but he will.” After hanging up, she tried to develop an interest in the magazine, gave up and said a prayer.

“Hello, Tyra.”

She hadn’t seen or heard him approach. Without knowing why she got up, she stood and smiled. “I’m glad to see you,
Byron. I missed you.” Should she have let him say it first? She’d never been in such a situation, and she had no idea how to act.

“If I was allowed to do what I want to do,” he said, “I’d take you in my arms and hold you as close as possible. I have lived in hell since that night. We were both wrong. You didn’t have enough trust, and I didn’t have enough compassion. I learned something. Did you?”

“I had it reconfirmed that you are my morning sunrise and my evening shade, Byron, and that I’d trust you with my life.”

“I knew that I needed you, but I didn’t know how badly.” He opened his arms, and she walked into them, back home where she belonged.

“I’d suggest we go to dinner, but Andy is expecting me at home. He’s asked repeatedly why you didn’t come to visit us or why we didn’t go to visit you. You’re the only woman I’ve introduced him to, and not only does he like you, but he senses that you have a special role in our lives. Let me take you home, and perhaps tomorrow evening we can be together.”

“I’d like that,” she said, and they started hand-in-hand to his car, which he’d parked at the edge of the park.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked him when he parked in front of her house. He walked with her to the door, opened it with her key and a second later, she had the comfort of his loving arms around her. More. She wanted and needed more of him. All of him. Like a starved animal getting its first meal in weeks, she clung to him, taking all that he gave her as he reminded her of the fire they built together. Heat roared through her body, and when she attempted to wrap her leg around his upper thigh, begging for what she wanted, he broke the kiss, panting for breath as he did so.

“Honey,” he said, “we are not alone in this house.”

“I forgot.” Depleted of energy, she backed to the opposite side of the foyer and let the wall take her weight. His gaze was soft upon her, the eyes of a man in love. She told herself
to straighten up and lighten the situation, and a way to bring them closer together began to form in her mind.

“Byron, could you…would you, your aunt and Andy have dinner with me and my family Thanksgiving Day?”

He didn’t hesitate. “That would be wonderful. Aunt Jonie wants to go to Virginia to be with her daughter and sister, but I’ll tell her that you invited her. Andy will be ecstatic.”

“What shouldn’t I cook? I mean what does he dislike?”

“He dislikes broccoli, but he eats it, because he has to eat whatever we give him. Not to worry. I’d better head home.” He cupped her face with his hands. “I love you. I love you deep down inside at the pit of me.”

Her arms went around him. “And I love you, Byron. I haven’t ever loved any other man. See you tomorrow.” He brushed his lips across hers and left. She skipped toward the stairs, stopped and said a word of thanks that she hadn’t ruined the most precious thing that had ever happened to her.

Two days later, Lyle called her into his office and showed her Byron’s notarized letter. “This is disgusting,” he said, “and I have a mind to fire Fuller. I have eleven full-time professionals and half-a-dozen volunteers, and Fuller is the only person on my staff who gives me problems. But if I terminate him, he’ll attempt to defame both you and Whitley. I am going to censure him and put it on his record. I suspect that since Whitley sent a letter to the Taxi and Limousine Commissioner, Christopher Fuller and his brother will pay heavily, and if I get a chance to fire Fuller for something relating to his work, I’m going to do it. I don’t want such a person around me.”

She thanked Lyle and stood to leave. “I hope he didn’t impair your relationship with Byron Whitley. He’s a fine man, and he’s contributed a lot to the Legal Aid Society.”

“At first, it was touch and go, but I think we’ve weathered that storm. Thanks for your concern.”

A telephone call from Andy that evening surprised her.
“Hi, Miss Tyra. This is Andrew Whitley. My daddy said I could phone you and thank you for inviting me to eat dinner at your house Thursday. When are we going to your house, Miss Tyra?”

“You can come Wednesday if you want to, but it’s up to your father.”