Merlot (28 page)

I decided to venture home, grab some aspirin,
maybe close my eyes for a few minutes. My mood improved as I
considered I could be sitting on the easiest four hundred dollars I
ever made.

I had just put my feet up for the briefest of
moments when my phone rang. Yes, I looked at the number. No I still
couldn’t read the damn thing.

“Haskell Investigations.”

“Oh, no wonder Da’nita thought you were with
the police. Do you always answer like that?”

I recognized her voice immediately. A hazy,
torrid scene from the previous night replayed in my mind.

“Kerri?”

“Dev?”

“Yes.”

“Dev, I’m returning your call, remember? You
wanted to set an appointment. I think we should. No drinks please,
at least not until we’re finished with the serious business,” she
chuckled.

“You tell me where and when.”

“How about your office?”

“My office?” I swallowed, the throbbing in my
head returned with a vengeance.

“Yes, that is okay, no?”

It would be okay if I had an office, so I
dodged the question.

“No, I mean, look, I think I owe you at least
dinner, ahh, after last night and all. You free this evening?”

“I can be.”

“Okay, tell you what. You know Malone’s?”

“It is a place on the corner, with the black
awning.”

“Yeah, you got it. I’ll make reservations,
say seven, seven-fifteen, no alcohol. At least not until we’re done
discussing. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Oh, Kerri, can you bring some
pictures of your sister? And I’ll need her address and, ahh, if you
have a spare key to her place that would help too.”

“Maybe I should just bring her.”

“Hunh?”

“Joking, never mind. I will see you at
Malone’s.”

I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need a
reservation, but phoned anyway.

“Yeah, I’d like a table for two at about
seven tonight.”

“Not a problem, you won’t need a
reservation.”

“Let me make one anyway, so I look
important.”

“A reservation here is gonna make you look
important? Jesus.”

“See you at seven.”

I had a nap, cleaned up a little, actually
changed the sheets. Stole some flowers from the neighbor’s after I
belatedly remembered I was supposed to water the garden while they
were out of town. Showered, shaved, found a clean shirt, and some
fairly clean black jeans. I topped it off with my black leather
coat that a former girlfriend once described as making me look
incredibly sleazy.

I was at Malone’s five minutes early and then
waited twenty minutes nursing a Coke before Kerri arrived. Malone’s
is one of those restaurants with passable side dishes, great
steaks, a nice bar, and no surprises. It was about half full, which
seemed rather good for a Wednesday night in the midst of the Great
Recession. As far as I was concerned it was a good steak place with
a limited wine list and cheap drinks. Ambience was not its strong
suit. The placemat was white paper sporting purple script that
spelled out Malone’s and looked like it was designed by a
fourteen-year-old girl serving detention after class.

I was seated in the back, close to the
kitchen door, which pushed in or out, depending, and thumped loudly
every time it swung closed. So much for reservations.

Even the women sitting at tables cast an
appraising eye for a brief moment when Kerri sauntered through the
front door, stopped, and scanned the room. She was wearing some
sort of black stretch fabric pants that were indeed stretched,
wonderfully. Sling back heels, dangerously high, clicked across the
oak floor. Conversation halted as she strutted past.

She wore a black strappy T-shirt, emblazoned
with stretched, bouncing white letters that proclaimed ‘St. Paul
Girls Are Hot!’ I could only imagine the thing must have shrunk in
the wash. She smiled and nodded in my direction as she made her way
to my table. Two waiters fought to pull her chair out, then
lingered over her, fawning and leering down her top as she sat.

“Oh thank you, nothing for the moment,” she
said, dismissing them before turning her attention to me.

I waited until the two were in full back
pedal. Her perfume began to waft around the table before I
spoke.

“Do you always have that effect?” I
chuckled.

“Effect?” she seemed genuinely unaware.

“Nothing, nice to have the service I guess.”
I’d never seen a waiter pull a chair out for someone at Malone’s
before.

“I guess you did not need a reservation?” she
said looking at the handful of empty tables, then stared past my
shoulder as the kitchen door thumped closed.

“That won’t do. Excuse me,” she smiled at the
waiter hovering in the shallows of her perfume. “Is there another
table we could have, please? This door banging will drive me
cuckoo,” she smiled, her accent suddenly stronger. I thought she
set her shoulders back ever so slightly, batted her eyes, and maybe
added a slight bounce or two to her request.

“I can take care of that for you. Is there a
table you’d prefer?” he smiled down at her, then quickly stepped to
the side to pull out her chair, hovering again to catch a glimpse
as she bent forward. That was twice in the same night with the
chair pulls.

“How about that one in the corner?” she said
crinkling her eyes and grabbing his forearm.

“Not a problem, ma’am. Please, allow me,”
leaping across the room.

“I don’t believe it,” I said once we were
reseated and he’d danced off, attending to a table that had been
attempting to get his attention for the past few minutes.

“What? I would have lost my mind with that
door.”

“No, I mean the chairs pulled out for you.
The waiter fawning all over.”

“Is it not what they are supposed to do?”

“Yeah I get that, but here? At Malone’s?”

“At anywhere, Dev, there’s nothing wrong with
a little manners once in a while. Oh here, a picture of Nikki,” she
said handing a folded manila envelope across the table to me. “I
placed a house key in there along with her telephone bill and a
credit-card bill. That man, Brad the Cad, his phone number is in
there, too.”

I unfolded the envelope, reached in, and
began to pull out what felt like a photo.

“It may be wise to wait,” she said
nonchalantly.

I glanced down at the photo and focused on
two naked women standing on a beach. One of the woman was Asian, I
attempted to focus on the other. I registered red hair, boobs, and
tan lines before I shoved the photo back into the envelope.

“Thanks for the warning I’ll study it
later.”

“Ma’am, sorry for the inconvenience.” Our
hovering waiter placed a glass of wine in front of Kerri.
“Compliments of the house,” he smiled.

“Oh, that is so sweet. Is that not sweet,
Dev?” again with the hand to his forearm, only this time rubbing up
and down.

“Really sweet, Kerri. Could we see some
menus, please?”

“A very nice wine, perhaps you should try a
glass. Did you have to send him off like that? He was only being
nice.”

“He can be nice to someone else’s, ahh,
client.”

“Jealous?” she asked looking evil for just
half a second.

“I thought we weren’t going to have anything
to drink until after we discussed business?”

“Yes, that was your idea, no? But, I think
everything you need, at least to start, is already in the
envelope,” She took another sip and set the glass aside.

“What’s with the naked photo?” I asked.

“The envelope has her address. A key to her
front door. It is a duplex, she has the top one. Her name is on the
mailbox. Her last name is Mathias.”

“Kerri. The photo?”

“Ma’am.” The waiter suddenly hovered from out
of nowhere, carefully presented Kerri with her menu, then quickly
discarded another in my general direction.

“I can get you something not on the menu
tonight. We have a wonderful steak, stuffed with smoked oysters and
served with a special red wine sauce. Comes with whatever else
you’d like.”

Kerri giggled, shrugged her shoulders, smiled
sexily and said,

“I’m sorry, the smoked oysters, they give me
the shits. I think maybe the cheeseburger, with the pepper jack
cheese, please. Does that come with french fries?”

“If you want it to.”

“I do.”

“Very well, ma’am,” not even blinking.

“I might try that steak, what was it
again?”

“Actually I think there was only one left. I
can check and see if someone hasn’t already taken it,” implying it
was no longer available.

I stared for a long moment.

“Give me the rib-eye, rare, hash brown
potatoes, French dressing with blue cheese on my salad. I’ll take a
Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. A double.” Then gave him a nod that
suggested Got it?

“Very good, sir. More wine, ma’am?”

“That sounds very good, thank you.”

I watched him saunter away, took a deep
breath to put him behind me. I didn’t mind him hovering, for a bit,
but he was close to becoming a pest, and I was the schmuck who was
going to get stuck with the bill in the end.

“Are we not happy after last night?” Kerri’s
eyes flashed over her wine glass.

“No, I mean yes, yes, I’m happy. And by the
way, thanks, that was very nice,” wishing I could remember more of
what had happened as I thanked her.

“Nice had nothing to do with it,” her eyes
flashed.

Over the course of dinner and more wine,
Kerri effectively dodged my question of the naked photo at least
half a dozen times. Nikki didn’t seem to have had any full-time
employment. A couple of vague cleaning jobs, some house-painting
gigs. She’d been a waitress, a bartender, done childcare.

“Did she file taxes?” I asked.

“Taxes?”

That spoke volumes, about both women
actually. As enjoyable to look and leer at, as Kerri was, I felt
there was something, or maybe, just something missing.

Eventually we finished up the small talk.
Even optimistic old me caught on that nothing was going to happen
tonight beyond dinner. The bill dutifully washed up on my shore,
five glasses of wine for Kerri at twelve bucks each.

“You like the wine?”

“It was just okay.”

“Okay?” I tried to maintain my composure at
sixty bucks worth of okay. My steak was a bare two dollars more
than one of her glasses of wine.

“Well, he was so sweet and I didn’t wish to
hurt his feelings,” she said, then drained her glass. The waiter
was nowhere to be seen so I signed the tab and pulled Kerri’s chair
out all by myself.

“Thank you, Dev. Shall we talk again, maybe
in two days time? You should find her by then, no?” She was walking
toward the door at this point, half talking to me over her
shoulder.

A waiter nodded, then smiled at her from
across the room, called out what sounded like genuine thanks. The
bartender waved good night to her like Oliver Hardy, a large paw up
at shoulder height, fingers wiggling next to his idiotic grin.
Other heads turned to appraise her from the rear then nodded
approval as she strutted past, heels clicking.

“I’ll see what I can learn. Who knows, maybe
she just went to Disney World or something.”

“Do you think, maybe?” she asked, sounding
serious, as if she might actually be entertaining the
suggestion.

“Well, ahh, maybe, but I doubt it. Let’s see
what I can come up with.”

Once outside I asked,

“Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your
car.”

A little dark blue sports car, a BMW
actually, suddenly pulled to the curb. I had no idea what model it
was, other than out of my price range.

“Oh, no need, here is my car,” she nodded at
the BMW and walked around the front to the far side just as the
driver’s door opened and the hovering waiter jumped out. The car
came up to just above his knees.

“All set to go for you, ma’am. I left my card
on the console,” he added half under his breath, glanced at me,
then said. “In case you need anything or forgot something, ya
know.”

“Oh, you are so kind,” she smiled and
continued to stand just a little too close. He had to brush against
her, heavily, to get out of the way so she could crawl behind the
wheel.

“I’ll call you later, Kerri,” I said to her
tail lights as she drove off, signaled, and took a quick left
around the corner. I repeated her license plate number over and
over in my head until I reached my car and wrote it down on the
back of a dry-cleaning receipt. I toyed with going down to the
Spot, thought better of it, and went home. The last vestige of
Kerri’s lingering perfume hit me as I opened the front door.

Thanks for sampling, Dev’s about to step in
it. Pick up a copy of
Russian Roulette
for all the
details and check out my other titles, all the best, happy reading
and thanks, Mike