Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (17 page)

Oh, right, like she was going to keep Jason around long enough for him to see her hair grow out. “You have time to decide. Since you have company, I won’t keep you. I’ll see you at four.”

“On the dot.”

I hung up and interrupted the little moment that Donato and Marcus seemed to be sharing. “Hey, Donato, good to see you.”

“And you. I heard about your ordeal. I am so glad to see you are safe.”

Marcus took a reluctant step back from Donato to include me. “You’re smiling, so I assume that means you and Dena made nice.”

“We’re meeting at the Bitches’ Circle at four. She’s bringing the drinks.”

“If you’re going out afterward you should change—that shirt has a coffee stain on it. And don’t let her out-sexy you—you’re the diva.” Marcus got a mischievous glint in his eye and reached out to play with Donato’s hair again. “Speaking of sexy, the salon’s owner is on vacation, which means that her upstairs office is all empty right now and she does have the comfiest couch….”

“Okay, well, I’d love to stay and chat but…you two are completely not listening to me.”

“Huh?”

“Bye, Marcus. Bye, Donato. Have fun defacing the boss’s office.” It was a good thing Marcus couldn’t procreate. The world would have a population crisis of apocalyptic proportions.

I spent the rest of the day doing mundane things like grocery shopping and renting a car. My insurance had agreed to spring for a medium-size rental while they assessed the damage, but I decided to upgrade to a large cherry-red Mustang convertible. The mental image I had of myself cruising down the streets in some hot little outfit with the wind whipping through my now split-end-free hair was just too tantalizing to resist. Of course, this was San Francisco, so I’d have to throw a parka over the hot little outfit, and for the first day I’d have to wear a scarf on my head because no way in hell was I going to put my new hairstyle in jeopardy, but other than that the image would be complete.

I was driving along the harbor in the Marina district feeling happy, glamorous and cold when my cell phone started playing
“Frère Jacques.”
I fumbled around in my purse for it before pressing it to my ear.
“Bonjour, c’est Sophie.”

“English is still the official national language, right?” Anatoly asked.

“What, you’re the only one who can be bilingual? I may not have lived in three different countries, but I’m not completely unworldly.”

“Right. When you answer the phone in French you’re supposed to say ‘allo,’ not ‘bonjour.’”

“Did you call for a reason?”

His laughter was cut up by the static on the line. “As a matter of fact, I called for two reasons. One was to find out how you’re doing.”

“Well, let’s see. Thanks to Marcus, my usual frizz has been replaced by some lovely curls, I rented a pretty new car and at the present moment no one is trying to kill me, so I guess I’m just ducky.”

“Your throat feels better?”

“I was just getting ready to belt out the score from
Les Mis.
”

“Not that I don’t want to hear what I’m sure would be a very original rendition of the musical, but for the sake of expediency, let’s cut to my second question—what are you doing tonight?”

What did I want to do tonight? Let’s see, I could strip him down, throw him on my bed, or vice versa… Shit, what was I thinking? “I’m meeting my friend Dena at the park.”

“I’m sorry, Sophie, but I can barely hear you.”

I pulled back the phone and looked at the screen. It had been days since I had recharged the thing and I probably had all of three minutes before it died on me. “I said I’m going to meet my friend in the Botanical Gardens. We’re going to make like Snow White and feed the squirrels among the redwoods. We’re very earthy that way.”

“Ah, I can hear you a little better. So what’s the game plan when you’re done with the tree-hugging stuff? You can’t stay in the park all night.”

“We’re going out to dinner afterward.”

“You’re not putting me off, are you?”

No, I’m trying to get it on. “Anatoly, I would really like to see you, tomorrow. I just can’t do it tonight.”

I could make out some grumbling on the other end of the line and it took him a good thirty seconds to come back with an intelligible response. “Does seven o’clock dinner tomorrow work for you?”

“Seven o’clock is beautiful.”

“Great, I’ll meet you at your place. And, Sophie?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t overdo the Snow White stuff. I see you more in the role of Catwoman.”

“You mean like from
Batman?
”

“That’s the one.”

“Huh. Catwoman was sexy.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Right, well, just keep in mind that I have to be much further into a relationship before I’ll put on a leather catsuit for a guy.”

“I’m very disappointed, to say the least. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ciao.” I hung up the phone and threw it on the adjacent passenger seat. Two seconds later it rang again. I giggled to myself, the man wanted me bad. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID.

“Allo, c’est Sophie.”

“Sophie? Is that you? What’s with the French already?”

Shit. “Hi, Mama.”

“So it is you. It’s been so long since you called that I’ve forgotten what you sound like.”

“You called yesterday, Mama, and I called you just a week before that.”

“We live right here in the same city and you have to wait seven days to call me? And how long has it been since I’ve seen you already? Two months? Three?”

“Three weeks, Mama.”

“Three weeks! Wars have been fought and won in three weeks.”

I could feel another headache coming on. “Mama, I’m driving, and it’s not safe to talk and drive, so if you don’t mind getting to the point….”

“You can’t pull over for half a minute to talk to your mother who you haven’t seen in almost a month?”

Too bad I had a headache. Otherwise I could give in to the temptation to bang my head into the steering wheel. “What can I do for you, Mama?”

“I have a bladder infection.”

“Oh, I’m, um, sorry. You know, you should get some rest. Why don’t you hang up the phone, get in bed and take care of yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need sleep, I need medicine. The shul’s ladies senior group is coming over to eat and kibitz and I won’t have time to pick up the prescription, so I need you to. Dr. Silverman already called it in. You know the pharmacy I go to.”

“Mama, I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Dena in forty-five minutes, and if I go to the pharmacy I’ll be more than half an hour late. Can’t Leah do it?”

“I should ask her to leave Bob and little Jack when they’re both sick with the flu?”

The flu. I had to hand it to Leah, that was quick thinking. “Mama, I just can’t.”

“I understand, dearie. You go have fun with your friends. So I go another day without my medication. God willing the infection won’t get worse. One more day won’t kill me. I hope.”

“Your bladder infection is not fatal, Mama.”

“So you’re a doctor now? My doctor, the one with the medical degree, he says it can be fatal.”

“Dr. Silverman diagnosed you and then told you you might die?”

“He didn’t say so exactly, but I know how to read between the lines. I can sense these things.”

“Mama, I want to help, I really do but…”

“Good, use the key because I won’t be able to hear you over the vacuum, and pick up some antacids while you’re at it, Ethel is always bringing a new spicy recipe for everyone to taste.”

“Wait, that’s not what I… Mama? Mama, are you there?” I stared at the now completely battery-dead phone before throwing it down. Damn it all to hell. There was no way I was going to be able to meet Dena anywhere near on time and now I couldn’t even call her to tell her. I wasn’t too far from her shop. Maybe I could catch her before she left.

I turned down Chestnut Street. Guilty Pleasures was just coming into view when it happened. An SUV pulled out of a spot directly in front of the store, leaving it vacant.

I struggled to hold back the tears of joy. Getting the antibiotic to cure my mother’s bladder infection was truly the right thing to do and this was the Lord’s way of telling me so. I slid the Mustang into the holy space. A little cry of joy escaped my lips when I saw that there was still twenty minutes left on the meter. This is what it meant to be truly blessed.

Barbie was putting together a display of exotic oils. Today she actually looked like a Puerto Rican Barbie doll. She had styled her hair into a halo of neat thick curls that brushed the shoulders of a cotton-candy pink top that matched her lipstick. Her bottom half was adorned in a black leather micromini and thigh-high boots. Okay, her ensemble still had a few dominatrix accents, but I was pretty sure the pink canceled them out.

She looked up from her project. “I remember you. You’re Dena’s friend, um…”

“Sophie, right. Is Dena still here?”

“You just missed her.”

Missed her? But I was blessed. All right, the Lord works in mysterious ways, I just had to figure out how he wanted me to work this. “Any chance I could use your phone to try and call her?”

“Go for it.”

I walked around the counter and dialed Dena’s number. As soon as I did, I heard Nokia’s version of The Mexican Hat Dance coming from a drawer underneath the register. I pulled it open and glared at Dena’s cell.

Barbie smiled. “She always forgets it there.”

If this was God’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny. I slammed the drawer shut and rapidly tapped my fingernails on the counter. So what was plan B?

“Really needed her, huh?”

“I was supposed to meet her at Golden Gate Park at four and I’m going to be half an hour late.”

“Where in the park?”

“The Botanical Gardens.” I could call my mother and tell her I just couldn’t do it—that would go over well. On the flipside I couldn’t just stand Dena up.

“I can meet her there.”

“Sorry?” I refocused on Barbie.

“I could meet her and tell her you’re running late. The next salesperson should be here within the next few minutes to relieve me and I was heading over to that part of town anyway. I’m having dinner with my parents in the Inner Sunset. That’s why I’m dressed so conservatively.”

I eyed the boots and the mini. “Oh, that’s asking a lot.”

“I don’t mind. It really is on my way. Besides, I was planning on asking Dena for a small raise soon, so any little thing I can do to make myself look good helps.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Tell me your exact meeting place and I’ll be there.”

I felt a little weird about using one of Dena’s salespeople as my personal messenger service, but it did seem like the only solution. She was certainly willing enough. I described the location of the Bitches’ Circle to Barbie. By the time I wrapped up my directions, the next salesperson had come in, and I left to save my mother from the lethal bladder infection.

Traffic was unusually light, so the drive across town took about half the time I had planned for. I picked up the meds and dropped them off with my mother. She was so busy making the house beautiful and completely dust free that I was able to get in and out without being dragged into a lengthy discussion about my marital status.

By four-fifteen I was standing at the entrance of the Botanical Gardens. I felt a little guilty about only being fifteen minutes late. I could have saved Barbie a trip. Walking over dirt paths couldn’t have been easy in those boots of hers.

I stepped to the side as a hurried tourist brushed past me. You could always identify the tourists by their insistence on wearing short-sleeved shirts while the rest of us dressed for rain and heavy mists. I turned to watch the man make his speedy retreat. There was something vaguely familiar about him. I shrugged and continued down the path at a leisurely pace. Maybe I had seen him at Walgreens or the like. I should probably be in a rush too, but it was way too pretty a place not to take a moment to stop and smell the flowers and, assuming Barbie did her thing, Dena wouldn’t be expecting me for a while. I zipped up my jacket; the cold weather would mean fewer people around to bug us. This was absolutely my favorite location in the world. It was like a little piece of the country right here in the city. I had been to Central Park before. It didn’t even compare. Sure, it was beautiful during the change of seasons, but like everywhere else in New York, it still had a very urban feel to it. That’s why I loved San Francisco so much. It was the perfect balance between urban and suburban. There was no other city in the world that I would rather live in.

A squirrel scampered down a redwood and paused in the path in front of me. I shook my head in apology. I usually brought peanuts with me, but today I had spent my spare change on my mom’s Alka-Seltzer. As I approached the Bitches’ Circle I could see enough through the brush to note that someone had fallen asleep on one of the benches. Understandable considering the tranquility of the place—still I couldn’t help but be a little irked. Yes, it was a public park but that was my spot. Well, it really didn’t matter. After a few swigs of wine, Dena and I would get loud enough to frighten the weary traveler away.

It was then that I noticed the person was wearing a pink top. At least it
would
have been pink if it hadn’t been so badly stained with blood.

I stood motionless as the sensation of numb horror rolled through my body. Without really willing myself to do so, I approached the woman.

Barbie wasn’t breathing. She was barely recognizable. Little insects had already started to crawl into the large gouges made in her face, chest and stomach. I felt the bile burn my throat and I started backing up. I carelessly tripped on a root sticking out of the ground. The fall jarred me out of my shock-induced daze and suddenly I was running. I was pushing past the bushes and crushing small shrubs as I stumbled over them. There was a botanical nursery no more than fifty feet away, I could get help, they would call the police for me. When I reached it I literally threw myself against the chain-link fence.

“Open up! Please! I need help!”

But the facility was closed for the day. Everyone had left. I heard some rustling in the foliage behind me. A bird? No, it sounded too big for that. A raccoon?
Don’t panic, don’t panic, just breathe and think.
No one would be stupid enough to hang around the scene of their own crime. The noise had to have been made by an animal. Or maybe a tourist who decided to go off the path. It wasn’t the killer. If it was a tourist, maybe he or she could help me. All I needed to do was call out.