Amanda's Blue Marine (8 page)

He was pulling back from her, deliberately keeping his distance, probably annoyed with himself for being so open with her.

Mandy knew why he was doing it but she was still hurt. He saw her confusion and puzzlement at the change and felt responsible for it.

Neither one of them was happy. They were getting nowhere, time was passing, and their forced proximity was putting both of them on edge.

Kelly then made a decision.

He knew about Amanda’s rich family, her photo op fiancé, the estate outside Philly and the uberconnected Daddy. He knew that she lived in a different world from his.

But Kelly also knew that Amanda started nervously every time he came near her, that she watched him fixedly when she thought he wasn’t aware of it, and that she looked to him for reassurance and help whenever anything went wrong.

The attraction was definitely there. There were a multitude of reasons not to follow up on it, but if he’d wanted to lead a safe life he would never have become a cop.

* * * * *

On the Friday of that week Tom was waiting for Mandy when she got back to her condo; he was sitting on the sofa already dressed in his tuxedo.

Mandy sighed inwardly as she pulled her dress out of the closet. Tom was obsessed with social position and getting the right spot at one of these charity functions was very important to him. Tonight was their third one this year, muscular dystrophy.

“And your parents are directly behind us,” he called in to her.

Whoop-de-doo, Mandy thought. More interrogation time for Margaret Torquemada Redfield to zero in on her daughter.

Mandy showered quickly and dressed in an off-white Grecian style knee length dress with a gold belt, and yanked her hair up into a topknot. She applied makeup rapidly, surprised that she was able to achieve a decent result so quickly. She was fixing gold hoops studded with diamonds to her ears when Tom appeared in the doorway and said, “I left the key in the bowl on your dresser.”

Mandy nodded. He liked to be able to let himself into her apartment but she insisted that he always return the key.

She wasn’t sure why that made her feel better, but it did.

They drove to the convention center in silence. Tom was quiet because these occasions made him nervous, as he wanted to implement the strategy he had planned in advance and had to calculate how to do it on the way to the event. Mandy was also lost in thought, preoccupied with the look on Kelly’s face as she left his office that day.

He had looked wistful, as if he didn’t want her to go.

As if he were going to miss her.

Mandy shook her head and tried to clear it. She had to concentrate on the event she was attending and stop thinking about Detective Kelly.

They pulled up to the entrance of the underground garage and a valet took the car. Mandy and Tom went up in the elevator to the main floor, where the guests for the fundraiser were milling about in the lobby. A sign by the bar directed them to the correct room and Tom started shaking hands and greeting constituents immediately. Mandy nodded and smiled, playing the role of political consort, until the group responded to some unknown signal and started to go inside to take their seats.

That’s when she saw Kelly. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with a starched white formal shirt and a black silk foulard tie, and hanging on his arm was his date from Pirro’s, the sultry Janet Grady. She was wearing a deep red cocktail dress which flattered her dark coloring with a fringed shawl of the same color and polished silver earrings. She looked stunning.

Mandy’s heart was racing. Had Kelly known that she was going to be at this fundraiser? He’d said nothing about it.

Mandy couldn’t tell if Kelly had seen her as she took her seat next to Tom and sat through the standard chicken dinner and the speeches. She waved to her mother and pushed the food around on her plate as the voices of the speakers merged and finally the clapping stopped. The pledges were made and the band in the adjoining room began to play. Tom pulled out Mandy’s chair and she got up, fleeing to the ladies’ lounge as he resumed his gladhanding. The flight proved to be a mistake, however, as Janet Grady was inside, applying scarlet lipstick to her gorgeous mouth. She looked at Mandy as if she remembered her from Pirro’s, but said nothing. Mandy waited until Janet had left and then sat down on one of the lounge’s loveseats, repinning her collapsing hair as a pretext for buying some time away from the reception room.

Seeing Kelly on Tom’s home turf had unnerved her, as if they each had to stay in their own playpens and not mix their toys, one of which was her. But she couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night, so she straightened her belt and powdered her nose, then went back into the fray. Both Tom and Kelly seemed to have disappeared, which relieved her anxiety briefly, and she walked out near the Oriental screens which bordered the dance floor, separating it from the diners. She saw her mother heading in her direction and dodged behind one of the dividers. The band launched into a medley of forties tunes and Mandy listened to several of them, watching the dance floor fill as the slow numbers started, including her favorite, “I’ll be Seeing You.”

He didn’t seem to mind her question, answering, “Commissioner Foster has a grandson with MD. Every year somebody from the detective division comes to this event to represent the force. This year it’s me.”

And Janet Grady, Mandy thought.

“I almost didn’t see you back here,” Kelly said.

“I was hiding from my mother,” Mandy replied, then cringed inwardly. Why was she behaving like such a moron? His unexpected presence at this event had destroyed her composure completely.

Before she could stop him he walked to the front of the room and had a short conference with the MC. He hadn’t yet returned when the MC announced, “A repeat request from the detective division of the Metro police force. ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ ONE MORE TIME.”

Mandy watched as Kelly stopped in front of her and held out his arms.

“Would you like to dance?” he said again, quietly.

Mandy wanted nothing more at that moment than to accept his invitation. She didn’t even look around to see who was watching as she stepped forward and took his extended hand.

Kelly wasn’t a polished dancer, but he was a natural athlete and that made him graceful. Mandy closed her eyes as he steered her around the floor to the strains of the forties’ tune which expressed the loneliness of many servicemen during solitary nights abroad. The room seemed to fade as Kelly’s grip tightened and she let her head fall to his shoulder. Her nose was buried in his dinner jacket. She closed her eyes and breathed in his musky scent, a combination of soap, shaving lotion, tobacco, and his warm skin. She could feel his muscles tense and relax as they moved, and she gripped the inward curve of his waist as he turned her firmly to the music. Her free hand rested on his collar and the soft strands of his dark hair caressed her fingers. She sighed and pressed herself against him, then felt his involuntary, almost helpless response. She had never been this close to him before, and the temptation to cling and submit was so powerful that she was nearly dizzy with it. She followed his movements without thought or consideration of the consequences. He led her behind a screen again and they were barely moving as the song came to a close. The MC caroled something about granting the request of the Metro PD as they came out of their trance. Applause surrounded them, as if the other guests had seen their enchantment and were endorsing it.

I’m falling in love with him, Mandy thought wildly as he let her go. I really am. It had happened so fast, and so intensely, that she could barely believe it herself. She had known him a little more than a month.

What am I going to do? she thought.

Kelly looked down at Amanda, his expression sober, almost grave. They were still entwined lightly, his arm around her waist and her hand on his shoulder. Mandy forced herself to step back and release him completely. Each could sense what the other was feeling as the silence lengthened.

He was faster on his feet, as always, and took charge of the moment. He stepped forward in front of Mandy to say to her mother, “How do you do, Mrs. Redfield? We haven’t met. I’m Brendan Kelly.”

Mandy sighed with relief as he drew the attention to himself and let her off the hook at the same time. Her mother shifted her gaze to the detective and said, “Oh, you’re the policeman assigned to Amanda’s…problem. We’re very grateful that you’re taking such good care of her.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Kelly said, turning the full force of his charm on Margaret.

Margaret didn’t look grateful as she shook hands with Kelly. She looked as if she were sizing up the enemy as she took in his appearance and demeanor. But her frozen expression was nothing by comparison with Tom’s obvious pique and Janet Grady’s equally obvious questioning gaze.

Kelly noticed Janet and walked quickly to the policewoman’s side. He put his arm around her shoulder and said something to her quietly. She smiled at him and left, making her way though the crowd to the bar. As Kelly walked back to them he said, “Thanks for the dance, Amanda. Mrs. Redfield, enjoy the rest of your evening. Congressman, you too. Good night.” He looked at Mandy once and beat a hasty retreat, obviously not wanting to prolong his exposure to any discussion.

“He’s very polite,” Margaret observed grudgingly. “Well trained by the force, I suppose.”

“Only you could interpret good manners as a flaw,” Mandy said to her mother testily.

Tom still looked irritated. He leaned in to Mandy as Kelly left and said, “What were you doing dancing with him? He’s your bodyguard, not your samba instructor.”

“Well I don’t know what he’s doing, but it bears very little resemblance to police work. His date was left stranded in the garden room while he tripped the light fantastic with you.”

“Why is he here, anyway?” Margaret Redfield asked, puzzled. “This is a $1,000 a plate dinner. Do you think he donated $1,000 to dance with you, Amanda?”

“The FOP sent him. They take turns each year because Commissioner Foster has a grandchild with muscular dystrophy. And the dance was just good manners, Tom. As my mother just said, Kelly’s… polite.”

Margaret, who had been to the rodeo a few times in her life and knew a cover story when she heard one, looked at her daughter archly.

“He’s very…attractive,” she said, to no one in particular.

“Oh, there’s Angie Delano,” Tom said, seeing over their heads and spotting one of his cronies. “Be right back.” He took off, leaving Mandy and her mother looking at each other like two prize fighters about to square off in the ring.

“I’m going to talk to your father about Detective Kelly,” Margaret announced. “I don’t like the way this is going. It’s been over a month and this deranged letter writer is still on the loose. The police haven’t accomplished anything. What is Kelly doing, anyway?”

“He’s reviewing with me the literally hundreds of convicts I’ve helped to put in jail during the last three years who are now on parole somewhere or already out on the street. Not to mention the hundreds more who might be writing from prison and getting someone to smuggle the notes outside to me. Not to mention the hundreds more than that who might have just seen me in the courthouse and developed a fixation on me. It’s going to take a little time, Mother.”

“There’s no need to get huffy with me Amanda,” her mother said stiffly. “You’re very defensive about this policeman.”

“I’m defensive because you’re expecting miracles that no one can provide. The cops can’t just run around arresting everyone who’s ever heard of me. There’s a little thing called the Constitution, with all those pesky amendments. We live in a republic, Mother, haven’t you heard? Dictatorships are efficient, democracies are slow. Everyone has rights. It’s tedious work to gather enough evidence to make an arrest and Kelly’s doing an excellent job. If you complain about him to Lieutenant Manning or anyone else I promise you that you will not be happy with my reaction.”