Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (2 page)

I closed my eyes and let out a breath. I'd been looking forward to spending some alone time with Max, but apparently that wasn't going to happen this evening.

Jennifer must have sensed my disappointment. “Don't worry,” she said. “You and Max will have plenty of time to catch up the rest of the week.”

I smiled faintly. “I suppose.”

She checked her watch again. “Well, I need to get going. Is there anything else you need right now?”

I made a point to look around me, but it was just for show. “I'm good, thanks.”

“Fabulous, well I guess I'll see you tonight.” She traipsed to the door, but before she left, she said, “And Sarah, I'm glad we got the opportunity to chat.”

“Me too,” I said, although I still couldn't be sure if her intentions were sincere.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was showered and changed and thankful for the air conditioning. I chose an ivory, cotton sundress with embroidery details on the hemline. It was casual and comfortable, and hopefully appropriate for a dinner party.

As I was applying the last of my make-up, I heard the door open. Max waltzed into the suite, his grey t-shirt and jeans stained with sweat and what appeared to be grease, or some kind of viscous fluid. His dark blonde wavy hair was slicked back and his face was flushed pink. He rushed over and scooped me into his arms. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “I've been stuck in the basement of this place all day wiring. My cell phone didn't work.”

He kissed me as he pulled me closer. He smelled like a combination of dirt, chemicals, and his pine soap. His stubble scraped my face. “Ouch. You got some razor blades on your face there, Mister. Is my cheek bleeding?”

“Sorry,” he said, smoothing my cheek with his hand. “I forgot to shave this morning. I wanted to get an early start.”

“It's good to see you, even if your five-o’clock shadow almost scarred me for life.”

He gave me a slightly embarrassed smile. “Hey, sorry about the change in plans. Jennifer was very insistent on picking you up at the airport. And since I was already busy into work, I figured ... Anyway, I hope you're not angry with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

His smile widened, revealing those gorgeous dimples. “I promise to make it up to you.”

“Good. Then I suppose I could forgive you.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “So what do you think of Jennifer?”

I decided to give him the short version. “She seems nice, but it was kind of awkward.”

“Why? Because she's my ex-girlfriend?”

“No. It's just that I think she was trying too hard to be friendly and to make sure that I understood the nature of her relationship with you.”

He backed away a few inches and regarded me with an odd smirk. “Jenn and I are friends, Sarah. I wouldn't have invited you down here if something was going on.”

“I know. I'm just not sure what
her
intentions are.”

Max seemed distracted as he looked down at me. “Oh shit,” he said. “Your dress ...”

I followed his gaze and let out an involuntary yelp when I noticed the greasy stain. “Oh no. This is the only nice dress I brought with me.”

He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and rushed back to dab at the stain. “I'll have it dry cleaned.”

“Won't be ready for the dinner party tonight,” I said. “And speaking of this dinner party, why didn't you mention that to me before? I don’t know if I’m really prepared to mingle with high society.”

He laughed. “Dennis Foster isn't your typical nose-in-the-air variety. He wouldn't care if you showed up wearing cut-off jeans and flip-flops. In fact, if you met the guy on the street, you'd never know he was loaded.”

“Do we really have to make an appearance?”

“Just a few hours. I promise we'll have the rest of our nights open for just the two of us.”

I let Max fuss over the stupid stain, knowing for a fact that a little soap and water would not dissolve the grease. “So, what's this Dennis Foster guy like?”

Max appeared to think it over. “He's in his mid-sixties. He smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish, but he's very entertaining. His much younger wife Brook is just the opposite. She's a strict vegan, but she's pretty cool.”

“So she's a trophy wife?” I asked.

He smiled and nodded. “Exactly.”

“What would I have in common with someone like that?”

He shrugged. “Don't worry about it. Besides, other people will be there, like Dennis's son. He's a character, just like his dad. I think Dennis also mentioned that his secretary and her husband
would be there, too. And Jennifer, of course.”

I looked down at my dress and sighed. “I guess I should find something else to wear.”

“Anything is fine.” Max started shedding his clothes. “I'm gonna hop in the shower. They're expecting us around seven.”

While Max took his shower, I rummaged through my suitcase to find another outfit.

Chapter 2

Max and I took the elevator to the top floor penthouse.

A tall, balding man greeted us, with glasses perched on his bony nose. His long, angular face was clean-shaven, revealing deep pockmarks on his cheeks. He was not handsome in my opinion, but his warm smile and sparkling blue eyes made me feel at ease. In one hand, he held a crystal glass half-filled with an amber liquid. He took my hand and kissed my cheek, his cigarette breath causing me to flinch.

“Very pleased to meet you, Sarah. I'm Dennis Foster.”

Aside from his imposing stature, Dennis had a friendly way about him. You can tell a lot about a person by a simple handshake and eye contact. Dennis Foster was a confident man.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay with Max for a few days,” I said. “I promise not to distract him from his work.”

“I'm not worried,” Dennis said while giving Max a hearty pat on the shoulder like an old buddy. “But a man needs to know how to unwind. Speaking of which, come on inside and we'll get you both a drink.”

As if on cue, a petite, strawberry-blonde woman of about thirty-five to forty years old approached us. Her eyes matched the emerald green, off-shoulder chiffon dress. She held out a delicate hand to me and I took it. “Pleased to meet you, Sarah. Max has told us wonderful things about you.”

“You have a lovely place here,” I said. “I really love the open concept.”

She smiled and fluttered her thick eyelashes, like it was the first time anyone had paid her a compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “We're comfortable here. Now on to the important stuff, what can I get you two to drink?”

Max pointed to the glass Dennis was holding. “I'll have whatever he's having.”

Brook raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? That whisky will burn you up inside like lighter fluid.” She patted her husband’s stomach in an apparent attempt to be cute. Dennis didn't seem offended; in fact, he laughed at his wife's display of affectionate, albeit condescending humor.

“Fifty-year-old Scotch is not moonshine, my dear,” he responded with a smile.

“Very well,” Brook said and turned to me. “And Sarah? Would you like a glass of Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds great. That's my favorite wine.”

“I know,” she said. “Max mentioned it to us last night. I got a few bottles this morning.”

“Well.” I smiled graciously. “I'm impressed and flattered. Thank you.”

Brook gave her husband a sweet smile while slipping her arm around mine. “Darling, do you mind if I steal Sarah away for a bit? Us girls should get acquainted.”

“Of course.” Dennis shooed us away with a playful wave. “That will give Max and me some time to talk about business.”

Brook led me to a nearby wet bar and promptly prepared the drinks. My eyes kept wandering around the room. It reminded me of a beach cottage, only much bigger, with colors of aqua blue, cream, and beige. Artwork adorned the walls: mostly watercolors of tropical landscapes.

I heard another voice coming from a different room and turned my head to look. A forty-something-year-old man was heading toward me, dressed in a crisp, white polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was trim, tan, and had smooth, blonde hair that swooped over his forehead in a casual, surfer dude style. He was stunning, and I got the sense he thought so, too. In one hand, he held an empty glass. He eyed me with curiosity, and when he got closer, extended his free hand. “Well, hello there,” he said. “You must be the girlfriend.”

I shook his hand. “Yes, well, I also go by the name of Sarah Woods.”

He gave a chortle. “I'm Andrew Foster.”

The resemblance wasn't hard to see. Father and son were both tall and lean, except the younger Foster had all his hair with some to spare. “So Andrew,” I said, trying to make small talk. “I hear you and your dad work together.”

A smug smile appeared. “Yep. Dad says I'm gonna take over when he retires, but knowing him, that'll never happen. I just can't picture him on the golf course every day. He'd be bored to tears.”

I was about to respond when Brook interrupted us. She offered me the wine. “Here you go, Sarah. I hope it's to your liking.”

I accepted the drink. “Thank you. It smells divine.”

Brook gave Andrew a cursory glance. “Would you like another drink?”

Andrew handed her his empty glass without any sign of gratitude. “A little less ice this time, okay?”

Brook froze for a moment, and I wondered if she would tell him to go to hell, but she didn't. Instead, she smiled and took his empty glass, then returned to the wet bar without another word.

I was about to ask Andrew another question, but he became distracted as he looked over my shoulder. When I turned to see what he was looking at, I saw Jennifer Healy walking into the room.

She wore a pale, pink maxi dress, her hair braided and twisted up into a bun. She looked gorgeous, resembling a Grecian princess – and the way Andrew stared at her, mouth slightly ajar, he must have been taken by her beauty as well.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, but Andrew was in his own little world. Then, as if I were completely irrelevant, Andrew walked off without saying another word to me.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, too ...” I said to him, knowing full well he didn't hear a word I said.

I found myself standing alone, but it wouldn't be for long. When Brook returned to my side, she shook her head with disgust. “I must apologize for Andrew. He has a one-track mind when it comes to Jennifer. Whenever she shows up, he turns into a drooling puppy. It's pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

I didn't know how to respond to her comment, so instead, I changed the subject. “How long have you and Dennis been married?”

“A year last Monday.”

“Congratulations,” I said. “How did you two meet?”

She finally smiled, then broke into a giggle, as if I were in for a funny story. “I used to work for Dennis. He and his wife had a mansion up in Delray Beach. I was one of the live-in housekeepers before Barbara, Dennis's first wife, passed away.”

Ah. Maybe that's why Andrew still treated her like a maid, I thought.

“Anyway,” she continued. “Dennis eventually asked me out on a date. I declined out of respect for his late wife, but he was very persistent. Eventually, I gave in and agreed to go to dinner. We had a great time and he proposed a few months later.”

I bobbed my head up and down, reserving my right to remain silent. I'm sure my opinions on the matter would not be appreciated. Besides, she wasn't really asking for my opinion anyway.

Brook leaned in to me conspiratorially. “I know what people say behind my back. They call me a trophy wife, a gold digger, and other things, I'm sure. I don't really care. This town is full of hypocrites, anyway. ”

I guess I admired the woman for being so straightforward. She didn't have to give an explanation to me, a total stranger. But I got the sense that she needed to vent. “I'm not one to judge,” I said. “My motto is: to each his own.”

She regarded me with an appreciative nod. “Thank you, Sarah. I wish more people could be so understanding, although, like I said, I couldn’t really care less anymore.”

If Brook really didn't care about others’ opinions, then why was she trying so hard to convince me? I raised my glass for a toast, anyway. “Well, here's to you and Dennis. Congratulations on your one year anniversary.”

She clinked my glass, and we both sipped the wine.

Brook said, “So tell me, what do you do for work back in New Hampshire, Sarah?”

“I'm a private detective. Just got my license a few weeks ago.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you serious? Max never said anything about that. How'd you get into that line of work?”

“I guess I sort of fell into it. It's a long story.”

“It always is,” she said. “Do you work alone?”

“I have a partner. Carter has a lot more experience than I do. I've learned a lot from him.”

“How does Max feel about you working so closely with another man?”

I frowned at the sudden change in direction of the conversation. “It's not an issue, why do you ask?”

Brook tried to conceal her crooked smile as I followed her gaze into the penthouse where Jennifer and Andrew were talking. “I suppose you already know that Jennifer and your boyfriend used to date. How do you feel about that?”

I put on a brave face. “It's not a problem for me.”

She cocked her head but her expression remained playful. “You lie.”

I laughed and nodded my head toward the couple. “It looks to me like Jennifer and Andrew seem to be quite friendly.”

Brook lowered her voice as she spoke, “Oh, I can tell you that Andrew's feelings are not reciprocated. Since the day Jennifer started working for Dennis, Andrew has been after her. He's quite smitten. But Jennifer rejects him at every turn. She seems to have no interest. Which is quite unusual considering women seem to adore Andrew.”

“Well,” I said. “She's smart not to get involved with her boss's son.”

“Good point.” Brook lowered her voice. “But between you and me, I don't know why my husband hired her. Anyway, I should keep my mouth shut about that.”

I despised gossip, but I really wanted to know why Brook felt the way she did. “Why? You think she isn't qualified to be his personal assistant?”

Brook shrugged. “There's just something about her that I don't like. Maybe it's because she's cute. Or maybe it's because she's too friendly. I don't trust people who are too friendly. I don't have a good reason not to like her. Sometimes, people just rub you the wrong way. But enough of that. Please excuse me, Sarah. I should check on the caterers for a minute. Do you need a refill?”

I looked down at my glass. I had barely sipped half of the wine. “No thanks, I'm good for now.”

After Brook went back inside, I wasn't sure what to do out on the balcony by myself. Peering through the double glass sliding doors, I could see Jennifer and Andrew still engaged in a personal conversation. Max and Dennis were on the other side of the room, having their own discussion.

I decided to spend some alone time on the balcony, looking out at the vast sea, sipping my wine. I didn't notice the humidity because there was a refreshing breeze coming in off of the ocean. It was almost sunset, and the orange-red colors of the sky reflected off the water.

I eventually walked back into the penthouse and noticed that two more guests had arrived – a couple, whom I guessed to be in their mid-forties. The woman – dark hair, swooped up in a French twist, wearing a skirt and a silk blouse – must have been the secretary Max had told me about. The man standing beside her was most likely her husband. He was dressed in less formal attire, with khaki shorts and a t-shirt. He was tanned to the point of ridiculous, and his black hair was obviously dyed – or perhaps it was a very convincing toupee. There was a creepiness about him, but I couldn't put my finger on why I felt that way.

I walked up to them and introduced myself. “Hi, I'm Sarah.”

“Vivian,” the woman said, giving me a half-assed handshake. “This is Roy, my husband.”

Roy took my hand and didn't want to let go. I finally released myself from his grip. “Nice to meet you both,” I said.

Vivian made a show of looking around the penthouse. “Any idea where Brook went?” she asked me.

“I think she's checking on dinner,” I replied.

“I'll go find her. See if she needs any help.” As Vivian walked away, leaving me alone with her husband, I felt my muscles tense under his lingering gaze.

“So,” he said, moving closer to me. “How do you know the Fosters? Are you a client?”

“No,” I said, taking a casual step back. “My boyfriend Max is doing a job for Dennis. I'm just here for a few days on vacation.”

“Nice.” He gave me a wink and flexed his bicep as if it were completely involuntary. “Have you been for a swim in the pool downstairs? I bet you look great in a bikini.”

I smiled through gritted teeth. “Excuse me, I should go see my boyfriend, you know, the one over there talking to Dennis.”

Roy glanced over. “Oh, he's your boyfriend, huh? He looks like he could kick my ass. Maybe I should stay away from you. Don't want to make him jealous, do we?”

There was no way in hell Max would ever be jealous of this creep. “Good idea,” I said, walking away. “Nice meeting you.”

When I joined Max and Dennis, Max put his arm around me, kissed my cheek, and I felt relaxed again. “I see you've made some friends,” he said with a chuckle.

Dennis leaned in. “Sarah, can I get you more wine? Looks like my wife has neglected you.”

“I'm fine, but thank you.”

A few seconds later, Brook came into the room and announced that dinner was ready. We all flocked to the dining table, set for eight guests.

During the first and second course, Dennis seemed to be the only one talking as the rest of us ate and listened to him. Once in a while, Brook would ask me or Max a question, but the conversation always came back to Dennis.

Andrew didn't have much to say. He was too busy staring at Jennifer. She did a good job of pretending he wasn't doing so. Roy stared at me from across the table, but I ignored him.