Murder in the Aisles (12 page)

Felicia blinked slowly, never taking her eyes off of him. Mark shifted in his seat. “Under the condition that you stay out of it.”

Felicia lifted her glass to her lips. She took a short sip. “I see.”

“Look, it's best that you do stay out of it.
If
the doctor was killed then the killer is still out there and I don't want to see you put yourself in any danger; I don't care how close the two of you were. Let me do my job.”

“Fine.”

He angled his head slightly to the side. “
Fine
. That's one of those women code words. Fine never means fine. That much I've found out the hard way. You have to promise me to stay out of it,” he said, his tone turning insistent.

“Whatever you say, Detective.” She lifted her wrist and glanced at her watch. “Later than I thought.”

Mark's jaw tightened. He looked around, spotted the waitress and signaled for the check.

* * * * *

The winter cold only added to the chill that had surfaced between them. They walked in silence toward the lot. Felicia suddenly stopped and grabbed Mark's forearm. He cocked his head toward her.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Drinks, dinner, meetings, simply to tell me things that you could have easily said on the phone. Why?”

“News is best delivered face-to-face. I'm a very direct person.”

“Not really.”

“Whaddya mean not really?”

“If you were direct you would say to me what's
really
on your mind.” Her eyes flashed in the starlight.

“What is it that you want me to say?” His voice dropped an octave.

“The truth.”

“I've been telling you the truth.” He stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him.

She could smell the intoxicating scent of Dewar's on his breath. Felicia ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “If that were true, Detective, we wouldn't be standing here having this stilted conversation.”

His eyes cinched at the tips. “Where would we be?”

The corner of her mouth curved into a sly smile. “You're the detective. You figure it out.” With that she turned and walked off toward her car.

The snow muffled his footfalls, so she didn't hear his approach or know that he'd followed her until his fingers dug into her arm and swirled her around. Before she could scream or react, she was pulled hard and fast against him and the alarm that rose from her throat was muffled by his mouth when it covered hers.

It was hot and sweet with the hint and bite of fine liquor. His lips were firm and soft if that was possible. And the kiss was as intoxicating as he was. He suckled her bottom lip and heat flooded her.

She could tell he would take her right there in the middle of the street if he thought he could get away with it.

Her palms were flat against his chest, not in resistance but simply to keep her from wobbling to a heap in the snow. Although that couldn't happen as his arms were locked around her waist.

Then all of a sudden she was standing on her own two feet with her heart hammering in her chest.

“That direct enough for you, Dr. Swift?” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, turned and strode away.

Felicia smiled. “Touché, Detective.” She watched his receding back for a moment, then got into her car.

Chapter Sixteen

As usual Felicia was the first employee in the building and she proceeded with her ritual of turning on lights, booting up the computers and checking the aisles and readings rooms. She'd revamped her plan of action when she engaged the services of Harriette and Derrick and hadn't gotten the opportunity to get back to Dr. Dresden's office. That was on the top of her list. She was also eager to hear if Harriette and Derrick had come up with anything and if Dr. Wallington had provided the information that she requested. But humming in the back of all the noise in her head was the kiss from the night before.

When Felicia least expected it she could smell him, taste him, remember the feel of his mouth pressed against hers, the way he held her… She shook her head to clear it. There was no time to dwell on Mark Rizzo at the moment. She had a full day ahead of her and now that she knew he was still investigating the case, it was more important than ever that she come up with the information on her end. And since she was directed to stay away there was no reason to share with him what she'd been up to. She'd keep that bit of intel to herself until she needed to do otherwise.

Satisfied that all was in order on the main floor, she headed up to Dr. Dresden's office. Fortunately, it had not been emptied out as of yet. She unlocked the door and reverently stepped inside. Already the scents of disuse and emptiness had seeped into the walls and crevices. It smelled old.

Sighing, she shut and locked the door behind her. She still wasn't certain of what she was looking for, only that she'd know when she found it. Since the ME had ruled the death natural, there was no reason to treat his office as a crime scene so everything had been left pretty much the way it was the last time Dr. Dresden was in it. But this time, Felicia was going to go through every item on the desk and every stack of paper piled in the corners—meticulously.

She started with the desk. Surrounding his computer, there were piles of folders, loose notes and small journals. She began on the right-hand side and sifted through each and every sheet of paper. They were mostly handwritten notes and printouts of information for projects that he was working on; nothing that would point her in any particular direction. She then started on the other side, which was stacked with folders. For the most part the folders held more printouts and handwritten notes. With the level of disorganization, it was next to a miracle that he was able to accomplish anything. The chaos of his office was beginning to raise the hair on Felicia's arms. Her pulse quickened.

Felicia shut her eyes. Now was not the time to let her phobias take over. She needed to be present, to concentrate, to simply focus on why she was there. Slowly she counted in her head and neatly stacked the loose papers on the desk. She counted as she flipped through the folders and only focused on what was in front of her, not around her, because if she did, the walls would begin to close in and she wouldn't be able to breathe.
Focus
.
Count
.

She lifted one of the folders from the pile and a small journal slipped out and fell to the floor. She leaned down to reach for it and noticed a thin leather notebook halfway under the desk. It almost blended in with the dark carpet. She picked it up and opened it. It was an appointment book. Her heart jumped.

The one thing that Dr. Dresden seemed to have in order was his appointments. Page after page was clearly delineated with dates, times, names and reasons for the visit or phone call. It was an entire year of his schedule. She got to the last page.

Her eyes widened in alarm. Dr. Wallington's name was listed along with the date and time and the subject was Steven Hollis. The same day that Dr. Dresden was killed. His meeting was scheduled for after hours. But unlike many of the other entries there was no indication of what this meeting was about.

Why was Dr. Dresden meeting about Steven Hollis and after hours? Dr. Wallington was clear when he said that he was the sole person responsible for selecting the Poet Laureate. There should be no reason for Dr. Dresden to be involved.

Felicia closed the book and stared off into space. Instead of the pieces of the puzzle coming together they were being scattered. She glanced up and her gaze landed on Dr. Dresden's forlorn jacket hanging on the hook, the jacket he would have never left his office without, and now this.

Her cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. She took it out of her suit jacket pocket. It was Harriette.

“Good morning. How are you?”

“Perplexed. Can you come to my office?”

“Sure. Give me about ten minutes. What's wrong?”

“Maybe you can tell me. It's about that list you gave me.”

“I'm on my way.” Felicia disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. She took the appointment book, one last look around, walked out and locked the door behind her.

* * * * *

Felicia got on the elevator to the lower level, then took the winding underground tunnel walkway over to the Madison Building. While she walked her mind whirled with an endless assortment of scenarios, questions tumbling over each other, as the answers kept pointing in the direction of Steven Hollis. But deep in her gut she felt that answer was too easy. Maybe it would all make sense after she talked with Harriette, although she was beginning to feel that this whole mess was about to get murkier.

Felicia approached Harriette's cubicle and knocked lightly on the metal frame. Harriette looked up and took off her half-frame glasses. Who said you couldn't wear white after Labor Day? Harriette was decked out in a winter-white jacket and skirt ensemble that fit her like a second skin. The gold buttons on the double-breasted jacket gave the simple but classy outfit a hint of glam. For a pop of color she'd artfully draped an oblong scarf around her neck that was splashed with lavender, lime and fuchsia.

“That was quick,” she greeted.

“It sounded important.”

“Sit.” She turned her computer screen so that Felicia could see it. “Now, I did as you asked and dug into the list that you gave me. If these men are poets then my name is Barack Obama.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that these poets don't exist, at least not on any list, archive or database that I could find.”

Felicia frowned in disbelief. “I saw one of the websites.”

Harriette shook her head in dismissal. “Fake. So is the blog of one of the other ones.”

Felicia leaned back in her seat, processed the information. “This isn't right,” she murmured. “Doesn't make sense.”

“No kidding. Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

Felicia hopped up from her seat. “Can you print this all out for me?”

Harriette hit the print key. “Are you going to tell me what's going on?” The pages began to spew out of the printer.

Felicia looked Harriette straight in the eye. “You can't tell anyone about this. No one. Delete the files.”

“Felicia, does this have anything to do with Dr. Dresden?”

Felicia's gaze faltered. “Just promise me, Harriette.”

Harriette blew out a breath. “Fine.” She wagged a finger at Felicia. “I'm giving you the same warning.”

Felicia gave her a tight-lipped smile, and snatched up the papers from the printer. “Thanks,” she said on a breath and hurried off to Derrick's office. But she had a feeling he was going to come up empty as well. However, empty had taken on new meaning.

* * * * *

Felicia rounded the corner to Derrick's office and ran right into him.

“Hey, Doc, I was just going to call you.”

“You found something?”

“It's more what I didn't find.”

“Meaning?”

“Come with me back to my office.”

Once they got to Derrick's office he closed the door. He went through some papers on his desk, then sat down. “Please, have a seat.” Once she was settled he pitched her what he'd found—which was essentially nothing, which was actually everything.

“Basically, these guys are ghosts. Even the one you gave me that had a website.” He shook his head. “Nada. I even went so far as to do a historical search for these poets' works and nothing comes up. I mean nothing. Zip.” He leaned back, rested his chin in his palm and studied her. “What's going on?”

“That's what I'm trying to figure out.” She pushed up from her seat. “Thanks, Derrick. I appreciate your help.”

“Anything for you, but now you've got me curious. I know you didn't have me do this Interpol exercise for fun. What gives? And since when are you interested in poets? Your thing is ancient languages and cultures.”

“I really can't tell you and I need you to promise me not to say anything to anyone—no matter who it is—about what you found.”

“Hmmm, a woman of mystery. Right down my alley.” He grinned.

“I'm not kidding, Derrick. This is important. Please.”

“All right, all right.” He raised a brow.

“Thank you.” She turned to leave.

“But at some point you're gonna have to tell me what's going on or dinner is on you!” he called out as she hurried away.

* * * * *

The wheels in Felicia's head spun non-stop. She needed some quiet time to try to make sense of what she'd discovered. She went back through the tunnels to the Jefferson Building where she worked. As she crossed through the reading rooms on the main level she ran into Emily, who was carrying an armload of books. She deposited them on the long table.

“You should use one of the carts, Emily,” Felicia chided. “You'll hurt yourself or the books.”

Emily blinked wide-eyed behind her thick lenses. “You're right, Dr. Swift. I was in a hurry and there were no carts available.”

“What are you working on?” she asked, only half listening.

“A patron needed some information on population studies south of the equator. I was collecting some texts that I thought would be helpful.”

Felicia offered a wane smile and a cursory glance at the volumes.

“Is that Dr. Dresden's appointment book?”

Felicia frowned for a moment and then looked down at the book that she had pressed to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

“No reason. Just a bit of a shock to see it.” Her cheeks grew rosy.

“He was very diligent about his appointments. Did you generally make his appointments?”

“No. That was one thing that Dr. Dresden insisted that he do himself.” She smiled. “Well, I'd better get these books organized before my patron arrives.”

“Of course.” Felicia walked away. She had much bigger fish to fry.

* * * * *

On his one day off during the week, Mark generally spent the early part of the day in the gym. He needed a workout today more than ever after his less than restful night reliving that kiss. He'd thought about calling Felicia, just to test the waters, but opted against it. He didn't need to come off as some horny toad that couldn't stay away. But the last thing he expected to be doing on his day off was meeting his ex for lunch.

When Elaine called and said she needed to speak with him, the out-of-the-ordinary call and request had thrown him for such a loop that he didn't put up the slightest fuss. So here he was sitting opposite Elaine and wondering what the hell was going on.

The place she'd picked wasn't fancy by any means. It was your run-of-the-mill American diner located two blocks from her office. What was unusual was Elaine's demeanor. Under the most trying circumstances, Elaine was always the coolest chick in the room. Today, she seemed nervous.

“I know you only have an hour. You want to order?” Mark asked.

“I'm going to get a grilled chicken salad.”

Mark signaled for the waiter. “Grilled chicken salad for the lady and I'll have a burger, medium well.”

“And an iced tea,” Elaine added.

Mark waited until the waiter was out of earshot. He linked his fingers together on top of the table. “So, what's going on? What's with the phone call?” He grinned. “I can't remember the last time we broke bread together.”

Her lashes fluttered. She glanced down, then across at him. “I've been doing some thinking…about us.”

Mark's radar went on alert. “About us?”

“Umm, hmm.” She moistened her lips. “I'll just say it. I miss you, Mark. I miss us.”

Mark was temporarily stumped into silence. How many nights and days had he wished she'd say those exact words? When she left him, he'd been a wreck, although he never let her know that. Now that he'd finally pulled himself together, she…and what about Felicia, that kiss?

“Elaine, I don't know what to say.”

Her lips clenched into a thin line. She slowly nodded her head. “I understand. I mean this is all out of the blue. You don't have to say anything, just that you'll think about it, about maybe starting over. Slow.” She looked him in the eye with those baby blues and he almost forgot all the reasons why things went haywire between them. Almost. He opened his mouth to respond but the waiter showed up with her iced tea.

“Can I get anything for you to drink, sir?”

Now he needed a drink. “Yeah, Dewar's on the rocks.”

Mark caught Elaine's quick look of censure but she held her tongue.

“So, uh, what brought on the change of heart?”

“I can't say it was one specific thing, more like an accumulation. I suppose looking at us in retrospect the picture is softer, the rough edges are blurred.” She reached across the table and covered his clenched hands with hers. “I demanded perfection, some ideal of what a relationship should be. I was being unrealistic.” She pulled back.

At one point in time he'd believed that he and Elaine were forever. It was the first time he'd committed himself to anyone. But she couldn't live with the man he was, his job, his priorities. Nothing about him had changed. Why would the relationship be different this time around? Not to mention his own issues with her penchant for working on dead bodies.