Perfect Match (13 page)

Madison pulled into her designated parking space, turning
the car off. She looked over at him. “This is where I live, this is my home. Do
you have a problem with that?” Her look hardened in the dark.

“Well, no…I just thought you’d live in a nicer neighborhood.
This would be a slum in L.A.”

She snapped, “This isn’t California, so get used to it.”

At the slamming of the car doors a dim porch light came on
and a boney hand pulled a thin curtain to the side in the front window. Seconds
later a hunched, little frizzy-haired lady opened the front door, and took a
few steps outside. “I thought that was you, Madison. Who’s that with you, your
uncle or something?”

Madison chuckled as she motioned Hollis to follow her over
to the grandmotherly lady, who was pulling her housecoat around her neck, as
she eyed him up and down. “Mrs. Swenson, meet Hollis Redgrave. We’re in the
same business together.”

Hollis barely nodded.

Mrs. Swenson kept her squinting eyes on him. “Just as long
as he’s decent.” Her eyes shifted to Madison. “I was worried about you. You’re
usually home before now. You know I don’t like to be worried about you.” An
aroma of fresh baked cookies floated through her open door.

Madison consoled her. “I know. Thank you for being concerned
about me. You’d better get back inside; the night air is chilled.”

“Yeah, these spring nights are still nippy.” Her eyes
drifted to the paper sack Hollis was holding. “You ain’t gonna be drinking and
raising hell upstairs are you Mr. Holland?”

“No, wouldn’t think of it.” What kind of crazy community is
this, he thought.

“I hope not, ‘cause I’ll call the law on you. I stay up ‘til
three in the morning watching TV.”

Madison assured her. “We’ll be fine; please don’t worry
yourself, Mrs. Swenson.” She added, “Don’t forget, I’ll take you to get your
groceries tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready.” Madison turned for the stairs in the
breezeway. Hollis wasn’t that lucky; Mrs. Swenson grabbed his coat sleeve. “And
Mr. Holland, you be nice to Madison or you’ll have to deal with me.”

Hollis laughed, thinking, this crazy old bat, what could she
do?

Keys in hand Madison made her way up the dimly lit stairs.
Hollis doing his best to watch her ass in front of him, desperate to feel her.
Later bad boy, later, he cautioned himself.

When she pushed the door open, a lamp glowed from a small
table just inside the living room. No fancy foyer to waste time in. Three
chairs and love seat formed a U-shape for sitting and visiting. A couple of end
tables held additional lamps. Narrow built-in bookshelves in one corner, were
filled with books for business and pleasure.

A bannister railing provided a break between the living room
and small dining area that lengthened into a narrow galley kitchen. As Madison
clicked on additional lights, Hollis couldn’t help but notice the soft touches
of colorful quilts draped across furniture, and some folded neatly in a stack,
resting on a small chest against one living room wall. A faint hint of vanilla
was in the air.

Well, this is all good and dandy, but I need to get the
night moving, he thought. “How about that wine?”

“Sure, let me hang my jacket. May I take your coat?”

He was quick to respond. “Oh, no. I’ll need my coat…I mean,”
with a nervous laugh, “it’s a little chilly, don’t you think?”

“Not in my cozy home, warm as toast.” She walked to the
kitchen, and reached for her selection of wine glasses pulling two flutes, with
long stems and tall narrow bowls. Her wine glasses were spotless. Perfect for
sparkling wine. She straightened her canisters and knife rack on her clean but
old counter top.

Hollis leered at her curves as she moved about the kitchen.

She handed him the corkscrew, and placed the glasses on
dainty coasters on her round, oak table that would seat a comfortable foursome.
She took a chair opposite him.

He worked quickly, anxious to get some wine into her. She
watched him closely, as he tilted the bottle and poured into her glass. She let
it settle a moment, watching the bubbles, while he sloshed his glass full. His
hand was unsteady. Madison had noted his four full glasses of wine during the
meal. She’d also noticed that he’d slurred a few words.

She raised her glass, leaning forward. “A toast to a
successful Fallington.”

He clinked her glass. “Does that mean you’ll now pay for the
wine, since you mentioned business?”

She laughed. “You wish.” She held her glass near her mouth,
closing her eyes, inhaling slowly, picking up the fragrance from the wine. She
watched the bubbles once more, then placed the rim of the flute against her
lower lip, and took in the first sip. She closed her lips and let the wine
flood her soft tongue, tantalizing her taste buds. She moved her mouth
slightly, savoring, then swallowing. The taste memory was locked in. Her
reverie was broken, when she heard Hollis taking two greedy swallows. What a
pig, she thought. She placed her glass carefully on her coaster.

She allowed a faint smile. “Mind if I change into something
more comfortable?”

“Not at all. Good idea.” He gave a false chuckle. “Think
I’ll loosen my tie.” Another false chuckle.

She moved quickly to her bedroom, removing her blouse by the
time she disappeared from Hollis. Her skirt was off even quicker.

Hollis fumbled for one of his capsules in his coat pocket,
opening it, and dumping the contents in her glass of wine. Only a little fell
on the table. She’ll never notice, since she’s getting into something ‘more
comfortable’ for the evening. He smiled thinking of what he’d be enjoying
before the night is over. I can’t wait to tell D.R. that I laid the ‘taco woman.’

He’d barely put the empty capsule back in his pocket, and
was removing his red striped tie when Madison came back to the table, fluffing
her lustrous hair. Confused, he said, “What the hell is that?”

“What?”

“The…the way your dressed. It looks like—”

She interrupted, “It’s called sweat shirt, workout pants,
and tennis shoes.”

He was shaking his head, wonderment plastered on his face.
“I was expecting something racy.”

She snapped, “This is a racy outfit. I sometimes power walk
and race around the recreational field.”

He was still shaking his head.

She said, “The way I’m dressed doesn’t change the taste of
wine.” She gave him a hard look.

He averted her eyes.

She lifted her glass. “Let’s have some more wine.” Once
again she held the glass near her mouth, closing her eyes, inhaling, sensing
the fragrance. As she opened her eyes, she studied the bubbles again, and then
placing the rim of the glass against her lower lip, she let it rest there a
moment.

He was still holding his breath.

While watching him, she gave the glass a slight tilt, her
pink tongue sliding forward, touching the tip into the wine, comparing with her
taste memories. Her eyes held on Hollis. His breath frozen in his lungs, until
she slowly sat her glass back on her coaster.

“You know, Hollis, I’ve finally figured you out?”

He took two gulps of his bubbly stuff. “Oh? What’s that
mean?”

“You’re a real sleaze bucket. You altered my drink.”

His face got hard as stone. “I did no such thing. I would
never—”

“Then, here, let’s trade wine glasses.” She switched
glasses. “Drink. Prove it too me.” She glanced quickly at her kitchen counter,
then back at him.

Anger exploded in him. “I don’t have to prove a damn thing
to you, you little prick-teasing bitch.”

“Yes, you have a lot of proving to do, Mr. Big Man.” She
lifted his half-full glass and splashed his face.”

Shocked, he pushed back from the table, wiping at his
stinging eyes, and starting after her. She turned toward her kitchen counter.

He was upon her, shoving her against the counter, then
grabbing the back of her workout pants, pulling them down, as he stumbled to
his knees. Seeing her smooth-fitting bikini panties and her bare legs confused
his emotions. He let himself think this was her idea of the rough sex he’d
anticipated with her all week, until she turned and he saw and felt the
stainless steel butcher knife slice across his left arm.

He clutched at his arm, stared up at her, eyes wide enough
to drive a freight train through. His voice went tenor almost to a little
squeal, “You cut my arm, and my coat.” He felt his jacket growing wet. The
squeal again, “I’m bleeding. You cut my arm.”

Madison was breathing hard, with the knife poised in her
right hand. “We’ve already established that. Shall I try something new?”

He backed away on his knees. She inched forward, seeing the
red blood dripping off his wrist, opened a cabinet drawer, snatched two old
kitchen towels, and tossed them at him. “You’re dripping on my clean floor.”

Hollis grabbed the towels and backed for the front door. He
whined, “Are you crazy?”

“Not sure. You want to hang around and find out?”

“Hell no, you crazy—”

“I want an emailed resignation from you before midnight with
a copy to Janice. Now, get out, and use your squeaky new phone to call a cab.”
She came closer with the knife. “Resignation or I come looking for you.”

He fumbled the door open, and stumbled for the stairs.

Madison dead bolted her door, raced for her kitchen, placed
the knife on the counter, rinsed her hands, and called 911. She gave details to
the dispatcher. She knew they’d respond before a cab arrived.

She stepped to the dining room and cracked the sliding glass
door, listening. Below, Hollis was cursing, crying, and stumbling around just
outside Mrs. Swenson’s front living room window, trying to get more light as he
rummaged his pockets for his phone.

Mrs. Swenson’s front door swung open. “What’s all the noise
out here?” She startled Hollis. He tripped, bumping into her front window
screen, ripping it. She saw the movement, and swung with her hard oak walking
cane.

He yelped, and cowered between the scraggly shrubs.

More lights flashed on from neighbors. A voice called out,
“What’s happening over there, Mrs. Swenson?”

“A damn peeping Tom, that’s what, but I’ve got him cornered
in my bush. Somebody call the law.”

A voice in the distance said, “You lucky. Wish I could
corner a man in my bush.” The remark was lost on Mrs. Swenson.

Hollis tried to stand, as he said, “I’m wounded, can’t you
see I’m hurt?”

Mrs. Swenson snapped, “Don’t you think I know that? I’m the
one did it to you. You move again and I’ll put a real hurtin’ on you next time
I swing my cane.”

Another voice called out, “Who is it, Mrs. Swenson.”

“Don’t know.” She glimpsed his white face in the faint
light. “Some white guy. These white guys must be gettin’ desperate trying to
peep up the nightgown of an old woman.” She was still cackling when red and
blue lights flashed in the street.

Between 8:45 PM and midnight law enforcement had completed
their initial investigation, including taking full statements from Mrs. Swenson
and Madison. They had read the Miranda rights to Hollis, gotten him patched up
in the ER of Cobalt Medical Center, and arrested him for public drunkenness,
attempted breaking and entering, and possession of a controlled substance.
Other charges were pending.

After the crime lab gathered evidence, and gave her the
okay, Madison had scrubbed her kitchen, alerted Janice to the situation,
showered, and was calming herself in her favorite chair in her small living
room. One table lamp burned as she replayed the week’s staff meeting, and
particularly the events of the day.

Although shaken, she was convinced she handled everything
the best she could. She hoped Edna would understand. Good riddance to Hollis,
whatever the outcome. But Madison needed her job; she didn’t need to mess up
and didn’t need bad publicity. The awful thought, what if I’d ended up killing
him, kept lingering. But then she reminded herself of what Nancy might have
gone through with her experience with Hollis.

Hollis had been assured by the ER staff that his wounds were
not life-threatening and he’d been given the best treatment for a bad cut.
Fourteen stitches and a couple of shots. He was to express his medical concerns
to the jail staff from this point forward. Before the police took his phone
from him, he’d emailed his short letter of resignation at 11:55 PM. He’d tried
contacting Fallington Enterprises’ attorneys but Madison had already closed
that door.

As the effects of the wine wore off during the night, the
stark reality of what had happened to him began to sink in each time he opened
his eyes, looked at the gray cell and smelled puke with every breath he took.
At 55 he was terrified.

Madison had learned that Hollis would be jailed until Monday
morning, and possibly longer. The legal authorities would be combing through
jurisdiction issues, plus actions were underway in L.A. to do a property search
of Hollis’s office, home, and car. No shortage of business for the legal
system. She gave Rodney a call after midnight filling him in on the details and
giving him special instructions.

“So you want me in L.A. early Monday morning?”

“Yes. It’s favor-collecting time, Rodney, remember?”

“Oh, okay…yes there’s that. But I’m not complaining, you’ve
done lots for me.” He paused. “Madison, do you really think I can handle that
office?”

“Yes, I do. Listen to me, you’re a very talented man. You
can do anything you set your mind to regarding this business. This is only
temporary…unless you want to continue to be successful on the west coast. But
temporary for right now.” She continued with some specifics.

“I’ll make the reservations.”

They ended the call.

Monday

“The best counter to bad publicity is good publicity,” said
Edna Fallington, as she sipped her coffee in Madison’s office. “And that’s what
we’ll generate with the press release. We’re lucky the news media doesn’t do
much with weekend commotions like Hollis was involved in. The report was buried
in the Sunday editions. But I prefer being proactive rather than playing
catch-up.”