Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (17 page)

Chapter 9

It was just before five o'clock when I arrived at Sports Emporium.

The registers were located to the right of where I had entered the store. Two of the three stations were open
, and that's when I saw Bob, standing closely behind a girl with a ponytail. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Bob was dressed the same as the employees: khaki pants and white polo shirt with the company logo embroidered in royal blue lettering,
Sports Emporium
on the sleeve.

Bob looked older in person than his profile picture, his skin starting to resemble worn leather. But his blonde, wavy hair and bright blue eyes gave him a youthful essence. And yes, he still resembled the ever-handsome Robert Redford. He appeared to be in good shape, albeit a slight paunch, but nothing to complain about. He was probably just under six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong stature.

He was explaining something to the trainee while punching numbers into the computer. He was standing very close to her, I noticed, and at one point, he put his hand on her shoulder, but only for a brief moment. As I stood very still, observing their interaction, I noticed another employee walk by with a box full of tennis balls. She was young, too. Probably seventeen or eighteen and very cute. As I scanned the entire store, it became obvious that all the employees appeared to be in their teens or early twenties.

My concentration was interrupted when I heard a loud, familiar voice behind me.

“Sarah?”

I spun around to find my neighbor Jackie standing a few feet away, gawking at me. She must have had the day off because she was dressed in jeans and a skin
-tight, pink sweater that did not flatter her plump figure.

“Hey, Jackie. What's up?” I said quietly.

She immediately put a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit. Are you working?”

I nodded and moved closer. “Yeah.”

Jackie knew that I was a private eye, and that I went under cover for certain jobs.

She lowered her hand and whispered. “Are you following someone?”

“Sort of. I don't want to draw attention to myself. Let's go over here.”

I led Jackie down an aisle toward the golf section.

“Who are you spying on?” she asked.

I folded my arms over my chest and gave her the look. “You know I can't tell you.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I came to get a new yoga outfit. I just joined that Bickram yoga place, where it's hot and you sweat like crazy. All the girls wear those cute, little Lycra shorts, and I thought I should get a pair.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked at me, clearly confused. “Why?”

“I hope you recently got a bikini wax
, if you know what I mean.” I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth – that she had no business wearing skimpy shorts with her plump figure.

She sighed. “Ugh. I hate bikini waxes. I don't even like to
shave
down there. I suppose I'll have to stick with the regular knee-length spandex.”

“Do you shop here often?” I asked.

“Sure. This is where I get all my workout gear.”

Over the past year, Jackie had tried every single mode of exercise imaginable. Spinning, belly-dancing, Zumba, Pilates, kickboxing, water aerobics, hula hoop classes, pole dancing, and now hot yoga. And in all her efforts, she hadn't managed to lose five pounds. Personally, I think she did the classes to meet new guys.

“Have you ever met the manager here?” I asked, my voice still at a low decibel.

“You mean that hunky guy with the blonde hair? Well, yeah! He's one of the reasons I shop here. He's a sweetheart.”

I should have known that even Jackie's shopping would revolve around men. She was a consummate flirt and, despite her ill proportions, she never seemed to have a lack of boyfriends.

“You haven't gone on a date with him, have you?” I asked.

“Nope. As a rule, I don't date men who are too gorgeous.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because,” she said with a straight face, “I always feel bad when I end up breaking their poor little hearts.”

I couldn't help but laugh. Most people didn't get Jackie's sense of humor, but I adored it. “Hey, Jackie, will you be home later on?”

“Sure. Wanna come up for a glass of wine.”

“Sounds great. How about eight?”

“I'll be waiting with bells on.”

Jackie went back to her shopping. I slipped out of the store and into the parking lot to find Bob Owens’
s car – there it was, his Volvo station wagon parked out back in the employee lot. I placed the flyer under his windshield wiper, another one on the car next to his – just so it wouldn't be too obvious – and casually walked back to my car.

Chapter 10

It was almost six-thirty by the time I got back to my apartment – a two
-bedroom flat on the second floor of an old Victorian home. It had taken a few months to get used to living in such a small space after the two-thousand square foot home I shared with Daniel for nearly twenty years. But that life was behind me, and I didn't mind. I loved my cozy apartment with the furniture I'd picked out all on my own. I'd spent many a night curled up on the sofa in front of the stone fireplace, sipping coffee in the morning, wine in the evening. I'd decorated the place with all the vibrant colors that Daniel despised – red, orange and mocha. I'd purchased a brand new – and ridiculously expensive – set of French cookware that I rarely used. I wasn't much of a cook and, when I did venture into the culinary arena, it was usually a disaster.

Max was a fantastic cook, and he'd proved it many times by surprising me with exotic dishes ranging from Moroccan to Thai. There's something so sexy about a man who knows his way around the kitchen
– especially a man with wavy brown hair, dimples, and a body to die for.

As I walked through my kitchen, I was reminded of the fact that I hadn't talked to him in several days, which was becoming more of the norm. I tried not to think about it as I pulled a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

I needed to keep my mind focused on work, so I sat down and made a small list of the things I knew about Dick Mackenzie:

Lives in a nice house, drives a BMW.

Neat freak.

Assists his elderly neighbors with lawn work.

Successful career as a realtor.

Not close with family.

Doesn't have many friends.

Hobbies include: cross-dressing, sex toys
.

After typing the list, I sat there staring at my screen with growing unease. I felt a little ashamed that I had tried to reduce a human being into a list of vague observations, as if those few traits explained the heart and soul of a person. I had no clue who Dick Mackenzie really was. There were still too many unanswered questions about his life. Did he have a falling out with his family because of the cross-dressing? Did he mow the neighbor's lawn only because he couldn't stand looking at their untidy property? Or was he truly a nice guy with a big heart?

I closed my laptop and went up to Jackie's apartment
. I could really use that glass of wine.

“You look exhausted, Sarah.”

She handed me a glass of red as I lounged on her sofa, with her dog Clifford's head in my lap. I stroked the soft fur behind his ears with one hand as the other held the wine glass.

“Thanks for this,” I said, and took a sip of the robust cabernet. I let out a satisfied sigh.

“There's a lot more where that came from.” Jackie occupied the plush recliner with her own wine in hand. “Did you eat? I have some beef stew I could heat up.”

“I made myself a toasted cheese sandwich earlier,” I replied. “But thanks.”

“So, tell me, what's up with Max? I never see him around anymore. You guys all right?” Jackie positioned herself in the chair so she was facing me straight on. Usually, she was the one blabbering on about
her
men, and all the gory details. Jackie wasn't shy, and because she was open about her sex life, she assumed everyone else should be just as forthcoming.

“We're fine,” I said. “He's been traveling a lot.”

“Why can't he find more jobs around here?”

I shrugged. “He takes the jobs wherever he can get them.”

Jackie tilted her head and regarded me with a pouty expression. “Poor Sarah. I hope you keep the batteries charged in your vibrator.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. My neck and shoulders need a good massage after a hard day's work.”

She laughed. “You know that's
not
what I mean.”

Not in the mood to talk about my personal love life, I decided to change the subject. “Can I ask you a question, Jackie?”

She perked up, her big brown eyes wide with expectation. Even her curly hair seemed to stand at attention. “Of course, what'dya want to know?”

“If you were dating a guy, and you found out that he was a cross-dresser, would that be a deal-breaker?”

She squinted up at the ceiling in thoughtful consideration. “Hmm. That's an interesting question.” She slowly turned to look at me. “Why? Do you think Max is ….”

“No, no,” I said, with my palm up. “This has nothing to do with Max. I'm just curious. It has to do with the case I'm working on.”

She eyed me wearily and wrinkled her nose. “Cross-dressing?”

I nodded. “Would you dump him if you found out after you'd already fallen in love?”

“It all depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, if we were the same dress size, it might work out,” she said, straight-faced. “We could share each other's clothes.”

“Ha Ha,” I said. “Seriously, come on.”

“I don't know,” she said with exasperation. “I guess it would really freak me out. I can't say how I'd react, especially if I loved the guy. I mean, I'd try to get him help – therapy, or something.”

“Forget about that,” I said. “Let me ask you another question. Let's say you went on a date with a guy
, and he seemed great. Granted, you know he's probably on his best behavior and wants to make a good first impression, but he seems polite and relatively normal. If someone told you that, perhaps, this seemingly great guy had a few major flaws, would you want to know what they were before you decided to go on another date?”

Jackie didn't need time to think. “Hell yes, I'd want to know.”

I laughed. “Okay, then. Here's the second half of that question … would you be willing to pay someone a lot of money for that information?”

“If I could be absolutely sure that the information was correct, I suppose I'd be willing to cough up a few hundred bucks.”

Not even a fraction of what Kathy Woodward would end up paying me, I thought. “Thanks, Jackie. I guess you answered my question.”

She smiled at me, and I knew I had just opened a Pandora's box.

“If someone told you that Max had a secret, wouldn't you want to know what it was?” she asked.

“Maybe if he killed someone but, past that, people have a right to keep certain things private.”

“Like what?”

“Well, here's a scenario
– I got caught for shoplifting when I was fifteen years old. I stole a t-shirt from Filene's because I couldn't afford to buy my boyfriend a birthday present. It was a stupid mistake, and one I've regretted my whole life. But if you were to tell someone that information, and they didn't know me, they might make an assumption that I was a distrustful, low-life thief. But that's not who I am.”

Jackie nodded. “I see your point.”

“All I'm trying to say is that maybe it's better to get to know someone before passing judgment.”

“Sounds like you have some kind of internal conflict going on about this job of yours. Why does it bother you so much? You know there's no such thing as privacy anymore.” She got up from the recliner and headed to the kitchen. “I need more wine. You?”

“No thanks. I need to head home and get a good night's sleep. Carter is coming by in the morning so we can discuss work.”

When Jackie returned with wine glass replenished, she had a funny look on her face that I couldn't read.

“So … speaking of Carter,” she said in her coy manner.

“Oh no, don't go there,” I said,
my palm facing her. “I know what you're gonna say.”

She feigned an innocent expression. “No you don't. I was going to say that I saw him the other day.”

I paused, figuring she'd make a comment about how cute his ass looked, or some similar nonsense. “You saw Carter? Where?”

“At the mall. He was with some woman, having dinner at that Mexican place.”

“A woman? Really?”

“Yeah. Carter has a new girlfriend, huh?”

“Why do you think it was his girlfriend?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Jackie exclaimed rather sarcastically. “Probably because they were holding hands.”

I was so stunned, I couldn't even respond.

When Jackie saw the expression on my face, she burst out laughing – a loud, ear-splitting sound. “Ha! That was way too easy! You are
so
gullible.”

“You bitch.”

Jackie loved it when I called her a bitch – probably because I so seldom swore. “I knew you had a thing for Carter,” she teased. “Why don't you just come out and admit it already.”

“Oh, come off it, Jackie. We've been through this too many times.” I made a show of looking at my watch then set my empty wine glass on the coffee table. “Time to go. Thanks for the wine. I'll bring a bottle next time.”

“Be sure to tell Carter I said hello.”

Clifford was snoring away, his head still on my lap. I noticed a drool stain on my pants as I gently slid out from under him. How he'd managed to stay asleep through Jackie's cackling, I'll never know.