Every Breath You Take: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 2) (23 page)

“So do you know a lot of people here? Are these your friends?”

“Yes, I know a lot of the people here, but I wouldn’t call very many of them friends.” He lowers his voice and says, “I do this crap for my old man. It’s good for business. Who am I to argue? The family business is my inheritance, so if Dad wants me to do tricks at a dog and pony show, I’ll jump through hoops and wag my tail with a smile on my face. I do draw a line at going into the office.”

“You never told me what you do for a living.”

“As little as possible,” he says with a laugh. “Dad has been into anything and everything. At one point he had more car dealerships in Chicagoland than any other air polluter alive.”

“What kind of cars did he sell?”

“What kind didn’t he sell? That’s the better question. He also had a steel mill and a trash service. At one point we had a trucking company. We owned radio stations. I don’t know all we have now. I have to give the old man credit, his timing is always right. He’s known when to dump the losers and pick up other companies on the way up. Our main business now is software. He moved into selling computers back in the late 80s. He sold to corporate accounts just when the industry was exploding. Now he owns a consulting and software programming company that is largest in the midwest and one of the biggest in the country. Corporate is in the R.R. Donnelly building but he’s got offices in Silicon Valley and Mumbai and London and everywhere else.”

“So why don’t you enjoy working with him?” I ask. “I shouldn’t have asked that,” I correct myself, but not as gracefully as Bobbie would like.

“I don’t mind you asking at all. If you knew my old man, you’d know the answer though. Not the most pleasant guy to be around. I actually have an MBA from University of Chicago. But I have no real interest in working in corporate America. When the time comes, he’ll sell the business.”

“So what would you like do?”

“Later tonight or for a career?” he asks suggestively, leaning over and putting his hand on the top center of my back.

I wonder if people can feel when your skin crawls.

I blush and say, “for a career.”

I don’t think Bobbie would agree with my answer.

He laughs and for just a second I spy a glimpse of a younger, non-jaded Derrick. But the cynic instantly returns.

“I don’t want to do anything. Why would I? I have plenty of dough.”

“You’re very fortunate,” I say with all the earnestness I can muster.

I don’t think I sold it. His eyes narrow and he looks at me more closely.
Ruh Roh.

“What kind of insurance do you sell?”

“Life, home, auto, everything. We’re full service.”

“So why do you do it?”

“It’s a job.”

“You make a whole lot more working for Ferguson.”

“Well, I just started. I’m sure I’ll be able to quit insurance soon.”

“Uh huh.”

Derrick’s no dummy. If he wasn’t suspicious of me already he is now. The elderly gentleman next to him leans over and asks him a question. Derrick reluctantly turns toward him and the two engage in a conversation. The elderly gentleman stands up and motions for Derrick to follow him. They walk a table away and a third man stands, shakes hands with Derrick, and joins the discussion.
Whew.

I am sitting next to another of Jack Durham’s friends. Joseph Veerman. Not in the inner circle but one of the regulars. Divorced and single. One child. A stunning beauty I recognize from Bobbie’s portfolio is next to him. She knows how to play this game. She laughs at the right times. Her eyes sparkle every time Brett speaks. She leans over and squeezes his arm or puts her hand on his hand when he’s not eating. She says funny things but not too many funny things. She makes eye contact around the table but always comes back to Brett. I think Derrick tried to flirt with her for awhile. She went with the flow but held tightly to Brett’s arm to show where her loyalty was. At least tonight. She’s good.

I could never be like Ferguson’s contractors. I don’t want to be like them. But Bobbie’s right. I could learn a few things about getting along with people from her.

“How long you worked with Bobbie?” Joseph asks.

Is he checking me out? Maybe Derrick told him to find out more about me since I obviously don’t fit in.

“Just a couple weeks,” I say.

“Well you’re going to do good,” he says. “Derrick is crazy about you. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. In fact he’s ordered everyone else to stay away from you and he’s told Bobbie no one else dates you. I think he’s about to offer you a business arrangement. But act surprised. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I think you’re pulling my leg. I’m not sure Derrick has gotten to know me well enough to feel that way.”

“That’s what we’ve all told him,” the stunning blonde says, leaning over. “But he’s got it bad for you. He even liked that you wouldn’t go home and sleep with him the first night,” she adds.

“If you tell him I said anything, he’ll be pissed,” Joseph says as he smiles and holds up his hands.

A business arrangement? Who are these people?

Derrick disentangles himself from the two men he’s been talking to and returns to the table, giving me an exaggerated smile. A waiter appears over my shoulder with a bottle of wine.

“Some more white before dessert is served?”

I still have half a glass left. I was able to dump the other half under the table. I’ve never had a drink in my life. I get in enough trouble with my mouth as a teetotaler—can’t imagine how bad it would get if I ever got tipsy.

“I’m fine,” I answer covering the mouth of the glass with my hand.

“Yes you are,” Derrick says with a wolfish smile, pulling his chair up very close to me. Very close.

“Let me make you an offer,” he says.
Ruh roh.

He pulls a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and puts on the table in front of me.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he says.

Joseph and the blonde are watching with smiles. I have no clue what is going on.

“You can choose the hundred dollars or you can hear my greatest, deepest, most profound word of wisdom.

“I’ll—”

“Don’t choose yet,” he says. “A hundred dollars isn’t enough of a test. Let’s make it ten thousand dollars. Joseph can vouch that I’m good for it. So do you want the money or my wisdom?”

“My answer is the same,” I say. “Your wisdom, of course.”

He takes the hundred dollar bill from the table and puts it in his pocket.

“Always take the money,” he says with a laugh.

Joseph and his date think that’s hilarious. I’m guessing this isn’t the first time he’s made the offer and blush for being laughed at.

He presses against me and whispers in my ear, “What say we get out of here before we have to eat fake chocolate mousse pie and listen to a political speech about lower taxes and no deficits? Actually tonight might be the higher taxes talk.”

“Sure,” I say, relieved and nervous at the same time.

We say good-byes around the table and stand. I don’t know what I’m going to do to thwart Derrick’s nocturnal plans, but after yesterday’s workout, I’m pretty sure he has no chance against me if this turns into a hand-to-hand combat.

“Kristen!” I hear a voice I know very well behind me. “That is you, Sis!”

I turn and Klarissa gives me a half hug and a quick peck on both cheeks. Very European. My brain has turned to mashed potatoes and my tongue refuses to move.

“Hi, I’m Klarissa Conner,” she says to Derrick, holding out a delicate hand for him to shake.

“I recognize you from the news,” he says with an amused smile, looking from her to me and back. His smile grows wider. Oh man. I am so busted.

“And I’m Derrick Jensen, just a humble citizen of Chicago who has been honored by the presence of the famous Detective Kristen Conner.”

The synapses in his brain have fired and made all the all connections.

“Where are you two off to?” Klarissa asks. “You’re staying for the speech aren’t you?’

My mouth is still frozen in a half grimace, half smile.

“We are indeed going to have to leave as we have other plans—and a lot to talk about,” he says.

“Well that’s too bad. I’m here with Warren”—she points to Warren and he waves to us and Derrick and I wave back to him—“and we wanted you to go out with us afterwards.”

“Not tonight, Klarissa,” I say, my voice husky and strained. “But I’ll see you in the morning before soccer like we planned.”

“See you at JavaStar,” she says.

I think she’s started to pick up the awkward vibe and her face alternates between a frown and a smile as she looks at me intently, wide-eyed.

Derrick bows and then goes over to shake hands with Joseph.

Klarissa hugs me a little tighter this time and whispers in my ear, “Oh . . . my . . . gosh. You look fabulous. I am so jealous. You better have a good explanation in the morning as to why I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on with you.”

“How’d New York go?” I whisper back. “You’re back early.”

“Tell you tomorrow,” she says.

• • •

“You know I liked you.”

“You met me one time, Derrick.”

“I knew you were different the second I laid eyes on you. I was right.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I can’t believe CPD put a detective in the middle of Barbara’s business.”

“Yes, you were right. But everyone knows I’m different.”

“You know, what you said is right, I’m cynical. But you’re cynical in your own way. You don’t take things at face value either. You make jokes and deflect.”

Derrick is more perceptive than I figured.

“So why can’t we start over and just go out on a date?” he asks. “A real date.”

“I’m not going to date you Derrick. I’m investigating the murder of your best friend.”

“How about after the case is solved?”

“You don’t want to date me, Derrick. You don’t know me.”

“But I want to get to know you. I would be willing to go slow. Very slow. Shouldn’t that count for something? Who is to say that I’m not about to become a new man?”

“Not I.”

“But your tone bespeaks a cynicism. You’ve judged me.”

We are sitting in a Wendy’s about five minutes from my apartment. Derrick picked up a bottle of Gentleman Jack and has polished a good portion of it off along with a double burger and large order of fries. The manager came over and told him no alcohol allowed in the restaurant. He ordered a Diet Coke, poured all but a little ice in the trash can, emptied the bottle in the cup, and threw the bottle away. That satisfied the night manager and he hasn’t come near since.

“To Jack,” he said.

“You miss him?” I ask.

“I was talking about my friend Gentleman Jack.”

I make a face at him.

“Yes, I do. I miss Jack very much. He was a true friend—most of the time.”

He raises his cup in salute and takes a huge swallow. I’m glad his chauffeur is in the parking lot. Derrick is in no shape to drive.

“He wasn’t very well liked you know—and he really didn’t like too many people. I think he invited people to spend time with him so that he could watch them demean themselves. He wanted to see how much crap they would put up with but keep showing up to enjoy the splendors of his parties.”

“Sounds pathetic,” I say.

“You are correct,” he says. “But Jack wasn’t all bad. He was complicated. Just like most of us. I’m complicated. You’re definitely complicated. Right?”

“You would be correct,” I say.

“Jack and I had a complicated relationship,” he says.

“How so?”

“I’ve never had a better friend. He’s been with me through thick and thin. Loyal to a fault . . . except the one time I needed him to be loyal.”

“What happened?”

“A long, boring story I’m not going to get into. I’ll just say one thing. As is the case with all tragedies, a woman was involved.”

I wait for him to say more, but he’s not budging. I’ll file that comment for further review.

“Writer,” he blurts out.

“Huh?”

“You asked what I’d really like to do as a career and the answer is write.”

Interesting. I get ready to ask if he’s ever actually written anything but he lets out a tremendous belch and lowers his face on the table. I think he was fast asleep before the side of his head hit the wrapper from his burger, smearing ketchup on the side of his face. He is a charmer.

The chauffeur has done this before and gets him in the back of the car. He drives the couple blocks to my apartment. I would open the door myself but can’t find the right handle. He opens the door for me and says he will escort me to my door. I tell him no problem.

“Mr. Derrick has his problems,” he says to me, “but he is a gentleman at heart. He would insist.”