Watchin' The Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance (10 page)

The technician takes her into another room,
tells her to lie down on a bed, and rubs some gel on Isabella’s
breast. “Sorry it’s so cold,” she tells Isabella.

“That’s the least of my worries,” Isabella
tells her.

The technician zeroes in on the area in
question, and rolls a wand over Isabella’s breast. She says, “I
think it’s a cyst, but I have to ask the doctor. Try not to worry
about the mass, okay?”

Isabella says, “I’d be a lot less worried if
you stopped calling it ‘a mass’.”

The technician smiles at her and says, “I
know just what you’re feeling. This will all be over soon.”

The technician leaves Isabella alone once
again to show the results to the radiologist. Isabella bargains
with God:
Lord, please help me right now.
I’m sorry I
haven’t been going to Mass lately, but I promise I’ll start going
every Sunday if you just make it not be cancer
.

After about fifteen minutes, the technician
comes back with a smile. Good news! It’s just a cyst. It will
probably go away on its own. The radiologist said that you need to
come back for another ultrasound in six months; but otherwise,
things are good and you can go home.”

Thank you, Jesus!
Isabella thinks. She
feels like jumping up and clicking her heels. She leaves UCI
feeling like she has a whole new lease on life.

*******

Back home, Isabella collapses on her couch.
She feels like she has dodged a most terrible bullet. She sits and
just watches the light play on the blinds in a way she never did
before. She’s mesmerized by how beautiful it looks and wonders why
she never sat and just looked at it before. She feels renewed from
her doctor experience and has never before felt such a sense of
fearlessness about things.
I’m going to stop worrying about what
people think and just go for it!
she says to herself.
As
they say, life is too short!
Jumping up, she gets her phone and
purposely dials the detective.
I don’t care what he thinks! I’m
going to tell him about Karen Black!

The detective’s phone rings several times
before he finally picks up. The delay gives Isabella a chance to
sense those old feelings of doubt and insecurity, but she forces
herself to hold firm and feels rewarded by hearing his voice.

“Detective Sterling.”

“Hello, Detective. This is Isabella. You know
the one from the mystery dinner.”

“Yes. Hello, Isabella. What a pleasure to
hear from you! I was just thinking about you as a matter of fact.”
She wonders if he was thinking about her while he was folding
clothes in his bedroom down in San Juan Capistrano.

“What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see if I could meet with you
about the Black family murder. I think I may have some information
you might be interested in.” The statement leaves her nearly
breathless with anticipation for his response. She hopes for a
favorable answer from him.

“Of course we can meet. Would you like to
come down to the station? Oh, I’m sorry; I remember that you aren’t
a fan of police stations. OK, how about The Gypsy Den Café?”

“Sure! That would be perfect. Isn’t that a
bit far for you though?”

“Of course not! I have to see someone later
this evening, so that would work out for me. How about 7:30? Will
that work for you?”

Isabella’s heart sinks after hearing about
his “seeing someone” later. She is sure it is another woman. A
strong pulse of jealously rises up inside of her, tightening up in
her throat.

“Yes, that’s great. I’ll see you then.”

“Good. Can’t wait to hear what you have.”

She hangs up the phone and feels deflated.
Normally, she’d be amped up after talking to him on the phone. Now
she feels weighted down by what she fears is someone else in his
life. She pulls herself off the couch and begins to change her
clothes. She knows she has to be perfect in every way to capture
his attention. She decides to wear the most low-cut blouse she has.
I’m going to rock these babies for as long as I have them. Who
knows what will happen after my next ultrasound?

She puts on her makeup and can see her hand
shaking ever so slightly. Fixing her hair in the mirror, she sees a
woman who is worried. Someone who feels she is in the fight of her
life. Such an irony, she thinks, after dealing with the fear of her
mammogram earlier in the day. She thought that was the end of
things; now she has another battle on her hands—the battle to win
the detective.

Chapter
Nineteen

Isabella arrives earlier than expected at The
Gypsy Den. It is 7:00 as she sits down at a small table for two,
adorned with a funky, 70’s-style candle. She stares out the window,
hoping to get a good view of him when he arrives. The waiter comes
over and asks Isabella if she’d like anything to drink.

“Yes, can I get a Chardonnay?”

“Sure. Are you waiting for someone or is it
just one tonight?”

“No, I mean yes; I’m waiting for someone. He
should be here shortly.”

“No problem. I’ll get your wine and some
water. Anything else for now?”

“No. That will be fine.” The waiter goes to
get her wine and leaves her staring out the window at the beautiful
courtyard. Twinkling white lights illuminate the patio and
pedestrian walkway giving it a European feel. She’s always loved
this area. Couples walk by, arm in arm, looking lovingly into each
other’s eyes. She hopes that could be her someday. She and her
detective out on a date. Finally.

“Here’s your wine and some water. Is there
anything else I can get you for now?”

“No thanks. That’s it for now.”

Except for the undying, total and passionate
love of her detective.

Taking a sip of wine, she looks out the
window and sees a man walking towards the restaurant. Her heart
quickens as he gets nearer, but then slows back down when he turns
and meets another woman. They kiss. Seeing this, Isabella’s face
drops.

“Why the long face?” a familiar voice asks.
She turns and there is her detective standing by her table looking
oh-so-handsome.

“Oh, you startled me!”

“Can I join you?”

“Of course! Sit down. I was in another world.
I’m sorry.”

Sterling sits down and for a moment they look
at each other, neither of them speaking. Isabella has a thousand
things going on in her mind.

“So you’re other half finally made it I see,”
the waiter says. “What can I get you? Something to drink
maybe?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“A Chardonnay coming right up. Anything else
or shall we take it slow tonight?”

Sterling and Isabella try to suppress their
laughter but the comment hits them both the same way. Broad smiles
and laughter erupt and the waiter is caught off guard.

“Yes, yes. We’re going to take is slow
tonight. Thank you for asking,” Sterling says. “I think we’ll nurse
the wine for a while.” The waiter leaves and they both laugh again,
quieter this time. Isabella feels relieved by the laughter. It lets
out a few hours of pent-up anxiety that seems to vanish into the
air. The waiter brings the wine and they both toast. Isabella says
nothing, waiting for Sterling to offer something up.

“To your health,” he toasts.

“And yours as well,” she returns. They both
take a sip of their wine and briefly look out the window.

“I like this place. It has so much character.
Have you been here before?” Sterling asks.

“I come here with my friends from work
sometimes. Don’t the lamps and shelves of 1960s-era vases remind
you of something you’d buy at a yard sale?”

“I do feel like I’m in a time warp. Like I’m
on the set of Mad Men.”

“Speaking of Mad Men, has anyone ever told
you that you look like Don Draper?”

“Yeah, I get that sometimes. He’s such a jerk
to the women on the show that I don’t exactly take it as a good
thing.”

“Well, he is good looking. You can’t deny
that,” Isabella says.

He’s about to say something back, but is
interrupted by their waiter, ready to take their order.

After the waiter leaves, he says to Isabella,
“So what did you want to talk to me about tonight? You seemed
pretty insistent on the phone.”

“Well, it’s about the murder at the mystery
dinner. I know you can’t talk to me about it, but I found out some
interesting things that you might find useful.” She pauses to get
his reaction and gather her thoughts. She can’t help but notice
that he is doing his best not to stare at her breasts.
Good,
she thinks.

“Go ahead,” he says smiling, “I’m all ears.”
And all eyes
, she thinks.

“Well, a few days ago I was at South Coast
Plaza. I went back to a store there, Mizzoni, where I had recently
bought a dress. While I was talking to the salesgirl, the
sister-in-law of the murder victim came in and wanted to buy some
shoes. The salesgirl knew her and introduced us right way. The
sister remembered me from that night and was very friendly and
nice. We spoke for quite a while about clothes and girl stuff until
the salesgirl asked us if we’d like to go for a drink. She was just
getting off her shift and felt like going out. I begged out,
thinking that they really wanted to be together but were being
polite by asking me. When I tried to bow out, they both insisted I
come along. The sister said it would be fun. We went to Wolfgang
Puck’s just a few stores down and spent over two hours talking
about all sorts of things,” she says, practically out of
breath.

“You say the sister-in-law was OK with you
being along?”

“Yes, I felt that she was pretty sincere.
It’s like she really enjoyed the whole female camaraderie of the
thing. She kept saying we should do this more often.”

“So is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No, not entirely. I just wanted to set the
scene so you wouldn’t think I was out of my mind.”

Sterling smiles and takes a sip of his wine.
He tells her, “Continue, please. You have my full attention.”

“After we had been at the restaurant for an
hour or so and were working on our second glass of wine, she really
started opening up about her sister. I had been asking her
questions about Karen and she was gladly answering everything I
posed. She told me about how bad their marriage was and how much of
a womanizer he was. He was apparently having affairs and travelled
a lot! Seems like he went to Las Vegas almost once a month under
the guise of business meetings and conventions. Karen seemed to
know better. He treated Karen badly in public many times. They were
members of many charitable organizations in the county. A quick
search of the web led me to all sorts of newspaper articles about
how bad he was with her. Karen was so hurt and angry over the
things he was doing, but couldn’t find a way to stop it without
impacting the flow of money and their lifestyle. Several times
during dinner, the sister-in-law mentioned how happy she was that
he was dead. I asked her if she thought Karen felt the same way and
the sister replied that she had every reason to. I’ve read that
many times the chief suspect is the spouse in these cases, but I
never really believed it. Now I think she may be the chief suspect.
I wanted to try and think of some clever way to ask the sister if
they had planned anything or just what did happen, but she kept
insisting that she didn’t know anything about who killed him. It
sounded so fake to me. I have a strong feeling that they must have
done it. Both of them. I wished I could have gotten some more
details out of her but after the second glass of wine, her
conversation skills went downhill. After that, she mostly
complained about men in general and how crazy things had been since
the murder. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think the wife
is the one you should be focusing on.”

Sterling is quiet and takes a long sip of
Chardonnay. “That’s quite a bit of information, Isabella. You’ve
indeed gotten close to the family involved in this murder. First
and foremost I want you to know, that as a policeman, I don’t think
you should be getting involved in things like this. It may sound
trite but we’re trained to deal with these kinds of situations and
the last thing I want is something bad to happen to you. Now that
I’ve said that, I don’t think anybody is going to tell you what to
do. Let alone me. From the little I know of you, when you get your
teeth into something, you don’t let go. Now tell me, do you
believe, in your heart, what the sister said?”

“Well, yes, I do,” Isabella answers.

“I say this because as a policeman, we hear
all sorts of stories and for all sorts of reasons. Maybe her sister
is trying to protect Karen?”

“I don’t think so. I think wine is the best
truth serum sometimes. I’ve found that when someone gets a few
drinks in them, all bets are off and everyone’s guard comes down. I
could sense she was being honest.”

“OK, I just want you to be aware of the
possibility. I see it all the time.”

Isabella feels that she’s on thin ice with
her ideas and her conclusions. She can sense that he’s good at what
he does and is trying to let her down easily without hurting her
feelings.

“Isabella, I’m going to tell you something
that I shouldn’t and you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
Her ears perk up and she’s caught off guard with his statement.

“We’re following the same theory. We think
that the wife, Karen Black, had something, everything to do with
her husband’s murder. I can’t give you all the details but let’s
just say we’re putting many things together that all point to her
guilt. I think you’ve been pretty savvy to put all this together
and come to that conclusion.”

“I knew it!” Isabella says. “Do you have
enough to arrest her?”