Read Current Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mysteries) Online
Authors: Lane Stone
Current Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mysteries) (17 page)
A couple of minutes later Tara had finished. “Almost all of the cards are blank, and there’s nothing written in Chinese.”
Just then the door opened, and a man backed in. I looked at Tara, and we raised our eyebrows. “Excuse me.” He jumped and turned around at the same time. He was tall and skinny.
He looked to be in his late twenties and had acne like you wouldn’t believe.
“Who are you?” he demanded. Then he heard Victoria opening and closing desk drawers in the back office. “And who’s back there?”
“
She
is Mr. Taylor’s partner.” Tara pointed over her shoulder by flicking her wrist. She was trying to give the impression of being a super-efficient secretary, but instead looked like a real smarty pants.
“I’m his partner.”
“No, you’re not. He didn’t have a partner,” I countered.
“Then who is
back
there if he didn’t have a partner?” Okay, he had me there.
Tara stepped in. “I’m his receptionist. Don’t you remember me? Since you’re his partner you see me sitting here Monday through Friday.” I mimed to her to keep up
the who
’s on first routine, and I took my handbag to the window. Detective Kent was
outside,
and I signaled him with my makeup mirror. It took him a few seconds, first, to realize he hadn’t been blinded by a
laser,
and second, to figure out where it was coming from. Finally he started walking toward us. Victoria saw him from the window in the office and came out to see what was up.
Detective Kent presented his badge to our new friend, who promptly reported, “I think these ladies are breaking and entering.”
“May I see your ID?”
“They say
she
is Mr. Taylor’s partner.” He pointed to Vic and tried to do it the way Tara had. “Well, there is only one office here, and one and one equal two. You do the math.”
“Actually, you already did. You came up with two,” I interjected helpfully.
Detective Kent stood in the doorway and made a call on his cell phone.
In one motion he hung up from the call, took the handcuffs out of his back pocket, and before I knew it, had them on the guy’s wrists. “It turns out Mr. Anniston makes a habit of breaking into homes and offices after an obituary is in the paper. I’ve called a car to take him to the station.”
“We’re ready to lock up now.” When Victoria turned, I noticed her Prada looked a little heavy on her shoulder.
We left Detective Kent with his prisoner and went on our way. As I walked by he nodded. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew that meant, “I’ll let you know if he’s connected to anything else.”
We stopped by my house to let Abby out, and less than an hour later we were heading down Highway 20 toward the Mall of Georgia, Victoria driving this time. “I’m going to cut through here to avoid some of this traffic.”
We passed a row of modest houses, which is a euphemism for paid for, with well-tended front yards. When we stopped at the intersection of West Broad and Temple Avenue, I pointed out a plot of land backing up to Home Spun Restaurant. The city had bought the parcel to add to
Hartfield
Hills’s little downtown area. “There’ll be shops and several restaurants here when they finish.” I pointed to my left. “This was the
NuAir
plant. It had been here since 1944.” Cattycorner to where we were sitting was City Hall and the police station. A familiar car pulled up behind us.
Tara gave a laugh. “How does Detective Kent do that?”
“Let’s wave,” Victoria said. We all did, but he didn’t see us. That was when we noticed he had a passenger. By that time we were back on Highway 20.
I started to get out my opera glasses when they turned in to the Holiday Inn parking lot.
“You have got to be kidding.”
Tara and I were both thrown to one side of the car when Victoria turned into the next driveway, hell bent for leather. Then she had to backtrack to the hotel. I didn’t like the look in her eyes. We parked, and she got out with Tara and me on her heels. She marched right up to the desk to the only female clerk on duty.
“I would like to check in, and I would like the room next to the couple that just registered.”
Tara winked at the woman, and money changed hands. Not the lady’s first rodeo.
“
Whadaya
know? It happens to be available.”
We went to the elevator. I felt like I was in a bad movie and couldn’t figure out the plot.
“Should we ask Victoria what’s going on or just let this play out?”
Tara looked calm but curious. “She looks like she feels good, really good.” I shrugged my shoulders. I guess we had decided to wait and see how it played out.
We let ourselves into Room 206 and jumped on the bed. Next we put our ears to the wall to try to hear Detective Kent and his date. Soon we heard a female voice saying, “Wait, wait, I can’t breathe.”
Tara sat back and got a nail file out of her handbag. “They’re having sex with asphyxiation.”
“
Ooooh
, it hurts.”
Her again.
“Now that’s anal sex,” Tara ho-hummed and narrated, looking up from her nails. Victoria and I looked at her. “I’m honestly impressed.”
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”
“Now, I’m impressed.” Tara put her shoes back on.
“I do not understand that guy.” Victoria slapped the bed with both hands and stood. “And I never will. You know why?”
There was no time to answer, because she kept going. “He has no morals. And you know what? I don’t want to understand a man like that. Let’s get lunch.” She headed to the door. Obviously, whatever had gotten into her had been exorcized.
“Wouldn’t it be something if this girlfriend had a parrot? Seriously, do parrots repeat what their owners say during sex?” I asked.
Tara considered the question. “You mean, like Polly
want
a blow job?”
Victoria dropped the room key at the desk. “Tara, can I ask you something? At what age did you lose your virginity?”
“Hon, I am so bad I never had virginity.”
Thirteen
C
ontinuation of statement by Leigh Reed.
The waiter at T.G.I. Friday’s asked Tara for her order without taking his eyes off his pad.
“I-
eeee
.
I’ll have a margarita on the rocks.”
Victoria and I almost gave ourselves whiplash when we jerked to look at her. “Three salads and three waters with lemon, please.” I took my eyes off Tara, but when I turned to the waiter, I was looking at the business end of a penis. His unzipped fly caused me to jerk my head back down to study the menu even though I had just ordered. Victoria looked to her right because I was hanging onto my menu while he was trying to take it from my hands. That’s when she saw mini-me. I gave the menu to him, and he, or should I say they, thank the Lord, left.
“Should we tell him his cucumber has left the salad?” Tara was still staring at him as he walked away.
“Just say, ‘someone tore down the wall, and your Pink Floyd is hanging out,’ or ‘you've got Windows on your laptop.’” Victoria giggled and put her glasses back on.
“Elvis Junior has left the building. Let me borrow those. Damn my eyesight.”
“Sailor Ned's trying to take a little shore leave. Ensign Hanes is reporting a hull breach on the lower deck, sir!” This had definitely gotten my mind off murder. “And your soldier
ain't
so unknown anymore.”
“You need to bring your tray table to the upright and locked posit ...” Victoria couldn’t finish her sentence.
Tara was dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “Our next guest is someone who needs no introduction.
Paging Mr. Johnson, paging Mr. Johnson.”
Victoria’s cell phone rang. “It’s my daughter.” She flipped it open and put the speaker phone on. That’s just how proud she is of Alexandra, just starting her residency at University of Chicago Hospital, and how happy she was to get the call.
“Hi, sweetie.
I’m having lunch with Leigh and Tara.”
“Hi, Mom and her BFFs. Aidan and I can’t decide what to get you for your birthday. Anything special you have your eye on?”
“Oh, Alexandra, you don’t have to get me anything for my birthday. Your brother’s news was the best gift ever.”
“
Uggh
.”
“No, I’m not pressuring you to have kids. And if you insist, I would like an MP3 player.”
“I’m on it. Want us to load it with music before we give it to you? All you have to do is give us some suggestions.”
“No, I’ll do it myself.
Thanks,
honey.”
She hung up. “No way
I’m
telling those two the music I want.”
A waiter trainee brought our drinks. Tara was disappointed. “Why not let them do that for you?”
“Because I would never hear the end of it if I told them to download ‘Johnny Angel’ plus everything Donna Summer ever recorded.”
“Wait, ‘Johnny Angel’ happens to be the best song ever written.” I was about caffeine-d out and was glad for the water.
Tara had her makeup bag out and was repairing her eyes. “Right, who doesn’t know that? But still, it’s probably best to keep it to
yourself
.”
Someone from the kitchen brought our salads.
“Anything else for you ladies?”
Unintentionally, but in unison, we cleared our throats, “No.”
“We might want dessert.” I don’t think I need to tell you who said that. Oh, good Lord.
We started eating and got down to business. I took two brochures out of my handbag. “I picked these up at David’s office. They’re Flow Network Design company brochures. His service mark was Information Controls. A double meaning there, I like that.” I began to read.
“
If information is important to the civilian economy, it is vital to national security. Dominant battlefield awareness (DBA) is pivotal for the United States in achieving and maintaining information superiority.”
Victoria picked up the second brochure. “Here’s something interesting. The second brochure is exactly the same, except ‘for the United States’ is missing, and the last line says that ‘information superiority will help you achieve that.’
You being China?”
Tara was pushing her salad around. “Are there any other differences?”
We opened up both on the table and read together. Both publications described software applications that would provide "the capability to collect, process, and disseminate an uninterrupted flow of information while exploiting or denying an adversary's ability to do the same."
I pointed to my brochure in the center of the table. “So this brochure is for American clients, and that one is for international clients like China, I assume. Taylor seemed to be going to a lot of trouble to get business from someone he had concerns about.”
“I guess that came later. I mean, who knows when he started having those worries?” Tara picked up the US market brochure. “When was this printed?”
Victoria turned the one that he used for international marketing over. “This was printed in May, just five months ago.”
“That tells us he was looking for additional clients. Maybe he didn’t want to be wholly dependent on The Peachtree Group.”
“Kelly says he started being gone at night and being secretive a few months ago,” Tara said, “and why is it printed in English?
Why not in Chinese?”
“That’s a good question.” I pointed my fork at Tara.
Victoria took two
“Why not one hundred percent?”
“He spells it CINA.”
“Okay. Let’s go take a look-see.” I made eye contact—I was careful about this—with the waiter, and he headed our way.
“My home computer is in a network with Shorty’s office computer. Leigh, to be on the safe side, can we use your computer?”
“Sure, it can probably handle it. We have a large one for my husband’s work projects. The military likes even their unclassified documents to be massive.”
“We’re ready for the check,” Tara said, looking our waiter up and down, but mostly down.
Same waiter, same problem, depending on your point of view.
Tara stared at the check, trying to figure out the amount for the tip. We waited. She had gone into some kind of trance. The waiter had walked off, and I think in her mind, Tara had gone with him.
I tried mental telepathy
. Carry the one,
I thought.
Carry the one. Come on girl you can do it. Just carry that one.
Finally, it worked.
“Big tip?”
Victoria asked.
“Fair to middling.”
“Wait.” Victoria stood up and then sat back down. “What did we come in here for? Oh, yeah, we’re supposed to be looking for Savannah Westmoreland’s husband.”
We fanned out over the restaurant, and I found him tending bar. I relayed this to Tara. “I’m on it.”
“We’ll wait near the door.” Victoria and I shuffled that way.
“One for the ditch,” Tara said to the bartender. She finally got her margarita, but in about five minutes she was heading our way.
“His name isn’t Westmoreland, and he’s never been married.”
Victoria clicked the car doors open. “We’ve been set up.”
Tara was taking short, quick steps. “You think? Sorry, but I can’t help it.
I’m being sarcastic because I don’t like having my time wasted.”
“I know what you mean. If Mrs. Westmoreland stands us up a third time, I’m going to start to lose faith in her.” I take a back seat to no one when it comes to sarcasm. “I want to know who’s behind this. Obviously, someone wants us at the Mall of Georgia, so I say we go there. It’s a public place, so we should be safe.”
Vic drove us across Highway 20 to the Mall of Georgia, and we sat in the car watching the courtyard and eating after-lunch candy bars. “What are we looking for?”
“We’re looking for whoever is looking for us.” The candy bar was good, but I wished I had more water.
The day was sunny and not too hot. Victoria opened the sunroof. “So, Detective Kent hasn’t been slowed down by his wife catching him.”
“Everybody’s got the right to love.” Tara was staring out the window.
“What about his marriage commitment?” Victoria reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the camera.
And opera glasses.
“You’re right. I think I’m just mad at his wife for being disloyal to us. After all, we were trying to help her.” Tara took the glasses from Vic. “She made us killer catchers.”
“How do you figure that, Tara?” Victoria was reviewing the stored photos.
“If we hadn’t taken her case, Detective Kent wouldn’t know who we are, and then he wouldn’t have gotten us involved in …”
“Hold on. We were sitting in front of David Taylor’s house. We would have had to tell him why.” Victoria had gotten to all the photos of Abby and turned the camera off.
“And if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, it is what it is. Now we have to deal with it.”
For a minute or so, no one spoke. “Can I ask you
two something
?”
Neither answered, because we were way past that point in our friendship and because it wouldn’t have stopped me anyway.
“How can you stand being married to, or dating, a doctor? I mean, I used to think I couldn’t be married to a proctologist, because of where his hands had been all day. Then I added gynecologists.
Then dentists.
Then I ruled them all out. They’re all touching used skin all day.”
“Used skin?” Victoria wadded up her candy wrapper.
“Speaking of marriages, what’s it like being married to someone gone so much?”
“If my husband was one of those losers we follow around …”
“And invariably catch,” Victoria interjected.
“…
it
wouldn’t have lasted. It was not my lot to fall in love with someone that works a nine-to-five job.”
“
Hoo-hoooo
!”
“What the hell was that?” Tara shrieked. The call had come from a gentleman in the outdoor courtyard of the mall. He was trying to get someone’s attention, or possibly he was calling a well-trained bird.
I started a rant. “I hate it when people do that. Walk over to the person. Don’t whistle, send up
a flair
, or shoot a gun.”
“Send a text message.” Victoria’s suggestion was less violent.
“Holy shit.”
We looked at Tara and then at the
hoo-hooer
. He was African American, dressed in jeans with a turquoise belt buckle the size of a pancake, and he was carrying a man purse. He could have been gay; I couldn’t get a clear reading on my gay-
dar
from that distance. The
hoo-hooee
ran up to him, and he kissed her on both cheeks.
The three of us stared, speechless. It wasn’t the two-cheek kiss in Buford, Georgia thing, it was who she was. As I live and breathe, it was Kelly Taylor.
Tara was first to get hold of herself. “Like the song says,
‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy
.’”
“It’s only been a few days since her husband died.” Victoria was really disappointed in that young lady.
“Who’s that she’s kissing?” Victoria had the camera at the ready. “I can’t believe she’s with someone this soon. Aren’t you shocked?”
“I am.” Not hearing anything from Tara, I looked back at her. She was cool as a cucumber. “Tara? Tara?”
“I’m shocked, too.”
“Botox?”