The Marquesa's Necklace (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) (6 page)

It didn’t last as long as I hoped. He walked in, got a drink at the bar, and came and stood by the booth. The guy I was talking to gulped, got up, and headed for the pool tables. Detective Thomason slid into the abandoned space.

“Hello, Harmony,” he said. “Keeping to your usual schedule, I see.”

“Detective,” I responded. “I figured after last week I owed myself this.” I picked up my mug and took a deep gulp of my lager.

The other girls sat silent. He glanced at them and sighed. “Do you mind if I borrow Harmony for a minute?” he asked of no one in particular. He grabbed my arm and stood. My beer sloshed in the mug but didn’t spill. “I’ll bring her right back.”

I didn’t have much of a choice at that point, not wanting to cause a commotion, so I went with him. He led me to a small table in the back room. The few men who were occupying the other table took one look at his face and left.

“I believe we talked about this,” he said, leaning towards me.

“We did. And I gave it a shot, and what did it get me? My hotel room searched, followed almost everywhere I went, and my apartment destroyed. So much for varying my schedule.” I was on a roll, and let it all out. “At least here, I’ve got friends to watch over me. Almost every guy has let me know they will protect me. Some have even offered to let me stay with them. Sure, a few are hoping they can get into my pants, but others really want to help. I’m safer here than at home, Detective. It’s not like I can enter the witness protection program.” The realization gave me goose bumps. Or was it the sudden chill in his eyes?

He leaned even closer. “You were followed in D.C.?”

“Yes, and my room searched one night.” An idea hit me. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Maybe called in a favor from a friend? I figured it was the feds—do you have any contacts with one of the agencies there?”

He let loose a string of curses, including a few choice words I wasn’t familiar with, and I thought I’d heard them all.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said. “I didn’t even know you were gone until the call came in. The chief assigned me to work with the anti-graffiti task force and that took a lot of my time. Are you sure it was federal agents?”

“No, but who else operates there?” I smirked. “They weren’t very good. I spotted them almost right away.”

This brought on another string of curse words. I took note of a few of the more interesting ones so I could try them out later. Joe is the only other guy I knew who swore like that, and he didn’t do it when I could hear him. Detective Thomason reached out and touched my cheek.

“If I could put you in a safe house, I would, Harmony,” he said softly. “But the town doesn’t have one. Hell, everyone knows where the home for battered women is.”

He’s right. It’s on the corner of Chestnut and Pine. But the angry-looking, black-belt wearing, .45-packing, six foot tall lady who mans the front desk at night is enough of a deterrent to keep most upset ex’s away.

“I appreciate your concern, Detective.” And I did. “But I have a life to live.” I stood and picked up my beer. He stood too, and moved close to me. One arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me close. I looked up at him, tried to decide if I would let him kiss me, and if that’s what I wanted.

A loud noise from the bar broke the moment and I pulled away. With one hand on the gun in his waistband—I’d figured out just where he wore it—he cocked his head to listen.

“The home team must have scored,” I suggested.

He stared at me for a moment, then turned abruptly and left the room. I stood staring, watching him go. “Good night, Fred,” I whispered when he was out of earshot.

Chapter Eight

I slid into my normal spot, with the front door in my direct line of sight. The girls studied me, and I decided to beat the rush of questions. “I’m not sure if he is just doing his duty in protecting me as a citizen, or if he is afraid something bad will happen to his favorite suspect.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.” Janine grinned. Damn. From her spot, she must have been able to see into the back room. “He’s sweet on you.”

I groaned. “Just what I need,” I said as I signaled to the waitress for another beer. “Is that like jumping from the frying pan into the fire?”

It took a while, but we finally settled into our usual mode of friendly gossip and easy conversation when something—or someone—caught my eye. “Your new boyfriend just walked in.” I said, poking Sarah in the ribs with my elbow. I’d checked him out as he strolled in the door and sat down at the bar. Tall—check. Dark—hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but check. Handsome—sure if you go for that type, so check. Dressed liked he had money—check. Yep, her type of man.

“I don’t have a boyfriend right now,” she said putting her fork down and sitting up straighter. “Where?”

“Third stool from the end of the bar. Definitely not from around here.”

Sarah leaned against me as she tried to get a better view and Merrilee and Janine, on the other side of the booth, turned to look as well. “He’s hot,” Janine said. “But by the rules, he’s yours, Harmony, if you want a shot at him.”

“Hey, I know him. He came into the agency today,” Sarah said. “Out of my way,” I stood so she could slide over and get out. “He’s looking into buying a house here for his mother. She wants to move out of Pittsburgh, and he wants her close enough to help her out.” Sarah straightened her skirt, unbuttoned one more button on her blouse, and then strutted towards the bar. I sat back down and the three of us watched her perform her magic.

“Five bucks says he’ll buy her a drink,” Merrilee said.

“I’ll see that bet and raise you five.” Janine reached for her purse.

“I’ll make it fifteen that she brings him back here to introduce him to us within,” I glanced at my watch, “thirty minutes. It’s ten after now, so she has until nine-forty.”

Merrilee shook her head, “See the way he’s leaning into her personal space? All bets are off ladies, it’s already a done deal whether he knows it or not.”

Damn. I would have won. Precisely at nine thirty-five, Sarah strolled back to the booth, her conquest in tow. I pushed over as far as possible to make room for both of them to sit down.

“Ladies, meet Eric Wolff. Eric, these are my friends,” Sarah said as she squeezed in next to me.

We all introduced ourselves, and as I leaned past Sarah to shake his hand, I took a moment to study him. Up close, he was even better looking than when I first noticed him. His clean-shaven face had the classic lines of a male model. His smile revealed perfect white teeth. His black hair fell at just the right length to run your fingers through. But something in his eyes made me pull my hand away too soon when we shook hands. They were the eyes of a predator.

No, it wasn’t Jake who taught me that, it was my father. He claimed he could get the measure of a man by studying his eyes. There’s a certain intensity in the gaze when the man or woman is sizing you up. My father knew that I’d be the target of men after my money, and he wanted to make sure I’d avoid them. Jake didn’t have those eyes.

Eric left shortly after ten, spending the perfect amount of time chatting with us to be polite. I considered saying something then, but my friends’ excitement about what a wonderful catch he was for Sarah stopped me. He claimed to be a VP for a regional bank with its headquarters in Pittsburgh, but I had my doubts. Too slick, too wonderful, too perfect, and I wondered if it was all an act.

Once in a rare while we close the bar down, but close to eleven that night, we settled our tabs and went our separate ways. I headed straight home, and pulled out my laptop to do some research. I wanted to see what the internet had to reveal about Mr. Eric “double f” Wolff. If I got lucky, I’d find his criminal record.

Either he didn’t do social media, or he was good at keeping his accounts private. I waded through the profiles of sports stars and ordinary guys, narrowing down the listings. I found two addresses for the most likely candidate—one in Pittsburgh, one from a small town in Eastern Ohio. Not surprising if he’d moved recently. There was a reference to a speech on current financial trends he’d given to the chamber of commerce. I tracked down a newspaper article, accompanied by a blurry photo, about his promotion to vice president. No matter what resolution I used the picture wouldn’t sharpen up. It looked like the man in the bar, but I wasn’t sure. Disappointed because I been unable dig up anything bad on him, I headed to bed.

Thursday was my first day back at the library. The research topic
du jour
was the space program during the late 1960’s-early 1970’s. An odd time frame for a romance novel, but it held interesting possibilities. I had an unusually high stack of books on my table, and was engrossed in a pile of LIFE magazines, when I felt a cool breeze on my neck. I turned and looked up, and into those pale blue eyes.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, before placing a red rose on the table. He gently stroked the top of my head.

Glued to my chair with shock, I couldn’t move or respond. My pulse raced and I couldn’t catch my breath. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone. I knew it was useless to try and follow him. “Who are you?” I asked the empty space left behind, not expecting an answer. I picked up the rose and imagined I got a response whispered in my ear, “A friend.”

Keeping in mind Fred’s recommendations, I left the library twenty minutes earlier than normal. I’d parked so Dolores by a big old oak to shield her from the afternoon sun. I almost didn’t spot the man standing by the tree trunk. But he swung his hand in front of his face, swatting an errant fly, and gave himself away. I wasn’t worried about Dolores—she had the latest anti-theft technology, and would scream if anyone touched her. I was more worried about myself. I paused at the foot of the library stairs, pulled my cell phone out of my purse, ready to dial 9-1-1, when the man moved into the sunlight. It was Fred. He must have been waiting for me because he waved.

I took my sweet time strolling to my parking spot, pretending to dig in my purse for my keys. He was in his work clothes, the tell-tale badly cut suit, and I wasn’t looking forward to another official police visit. He stood on the sidewalk and waited for me, tapping his foot. With a push of a button, I turned off Dolores’ alarm and unlocked the driver’s side door. “Hello,” I said.

He looked nervous. “How was your day?” he asked.

“It was a good day. Got a lot accomplished.”

“Any plans for the rest of it?”

I carefully placed my laptop behind the seat. “Not really. Janine and I are probably going to watch a movie or something.”

“Want to go to supper with me?”

I was glad I no longer had my laptop case in my hands. I might’ve dropped it. I casually let my purse fall off my shoulder. “Where?”

“How’s Italian? Mama D’s place?”

“I want to run by the grocery store, there are a few things I need to pick up first.”

“How about I pick you up about seven? At Janine’s?”

“Okay. See you then.”

He smiled and headed for his Mustang, parked around the corner. Had I really agreed to go on a date with him? Now I had to figure out what to wear.

Mama D’s is casual, so I settled for a nice pair of jeans and a silky deep blue blouse I borrowed from Janine. I went a step further and added gold-toned sandals with a four-inch heel. I was nervous—my last date, with Jake, ended with our arrest—by the same man I was going to have supper with tonight. My sexy underwear hadn’t been replaced yet, but there’s no way Freddie would see it on a first date anyway. The standard white cotton would have to do.

Right on time, he pulled up in his Mustang. Janine was giggling from a seat near her front window. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked,” she said, watching him walk up the sidewalk. “Because I’m not waiting up. She flashed me an exaggerated wink when the doorbell rang.

I was blushing as I answered the door.

Supper went well. We chatted over our spaghetti and meatballs—a favorite for both of us—about the upcoming city council elections. The same old crowd appeared on the ballot, including Mel Freemont, who ran and lost every election as far back as I could remember. We placed a friendly bet of a home-cooked meal on whether or not he would lose again this year. I keep hoping the sympathy vote will get Mel into office one of these years, so I bet on him. I immediately started planning what I would cook for Freddie come that Wednesday in November.

I let Freddie kiss me that night. I even kissed him back. There was no magic in the kiss, but I didn’t expect magic. Magic only exists in the books my authors write. I’ll settle for a guy who won’t get me busted.

I did go buy new underwear the next day, in case I let him do more than kiss me later.

By Saturday, the apartment was livable again. The carpet had been cleaned, the new mattress delivered, the loveseat hauled up the stairs, all the books dusted and returned to their ordered places. Everything looked fine, but I knew it would never be the same again. There’s no shortage of places to rent in Oak Grove, I could take my time and find a new place. The hard part would be telling Luke and Joe I was moving.

If there was such a thing as a course in advanced gossiping, half the citizens of Oak Grove could teach it. Within a few days, everyone knew Freddie and I were an item. Hell, most of the town knew it before I did. Girls’ night out at the Flamingo, most of the guys wouldn’t even look at me. A lot of them kept glancing towards the door, as if they expected Freddie to walk in at any time. Definitely a downer, for me and for them. I said good night early, telling the ladies I had a headache, and drove Dolores to a hilltop at the edge of town. It’s called Lookout Point, and it’s where the kids go, but there were no teenagers necking that night. I guess I still had some good karma banked.