No One to Trust (5 page)

She stepped back from me and squinted critically. “No, this one won’t work either. Try this one.” She grabbed another gown off the rack and handed me a sleeveless, greenish gown with spaghetti straps.

Just the thought of spaghetti made my stomach growl and I tried to remember if any of the food-court restaurants sold pasta.

“Remember the mantra,” she said, apparently seeing my upper lip form a snarl of protest.

“Oh, all right, all right,” I snapped as I marched back to the dressing room. “I’m focusing on my damn inner glow. What the hell color is this gown? Pee-pee-green?”

“English-yew-green,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s the rage in Paris this fall.”

“I’m not wearing anything French. It goes against my politics.”

“Lexi.”

“Oh, okay.”

Trying to act like a team player, I tried on three more gowns and then decided I really couldn’t take it anymore. The next gown would be a winner, whether I liked it or not.

“I think I’ve found the one.”

I cracked open the dressing room door and Basia handed me a slinky, blood-red gown with a low-cut back and leg slits practically up to my butt. Then I turned it around and saw the plunging neckline.

“Are you nuts?” I stared at the gown on the hanger.

Basia laughed. “Lexi, you have a body that can carry this off. Just try it on. It’s Moroccan-red.”

“I suppose that means this is the latest rage in Morocco.”

“At least it’s not French.”

I tried it on and the gown fit like a glove. That’s not a turn of phrase. It really fit like a glove. A tight glove. The tag said the material was silk and spandex, but I’d never heard of the two of them together in an evening gown. Then again, I’d never shopped for evening gowns before, so what did I know? Of course, I couldn’t breathe and walking was difficult, but there was no question my inner glow would be on display for all to see.

“Oh, my God, it’s perfect,” Basia sighed as I opened the door and tottered out. “Finn will have a heart attack when he sees you in this.”

“If I don’t die of asphyxia first.” My voice was wispy because the dress squeezed my lungs, not to mention what little boobs I have, together. It created the illusion of cleavage and that was the best thing that had happened to me all night.

“It’s a good thing you don’t need to wear a bra with that.”

“I don’t need to wear a bra with anything. Still, thanks for reminding me.”

Basia tugged on the material near my right boob. “Oh, don’t be so cranky. It’s stunning. One look at you in this and Finn will have only one thing on his mind for the rest of the evening.”

Since there was no way in hell I was going to put on one more gown, I let Basia talk me into buying the dress. Considering how little actual material the gown was made of, I sure paid a heck of a lot for it.

Then, of course, I had to buy a pair of sexy, red shoes that Basia picked out. At first I protested because the heels on the shoes put me well over six feet two, but Basia said they were delicate and gave me toe cleavage. All the talk of cleavage made me giddy, so of course, I bought them, too.

As we lugged my purchases out to the car, I hoped I’d done the right thing by buying such a daring gown. It was a huge step out of my comfort zone, but I knew exactly squat about dating, so I had to rely on the expertise of others. I only hoped it would all turn out right. One way or the other, I’d know if it had paid off in less than twenty-four hours.

Basia had just helped me pile my purchases in the trunk of the Miata when my cell phone rang. I’d finally bought one after my mother, Finn and Basia had successfully nagged the beejeebies out of me. Despite my extreme fondness for all things technological, a cell phone was one thing I’d never wanted. Phone skills were never my strong suit and I sure as heck didn’t want to give my mom twenty-four hours a day access to me. However, I finally succumbed to a combination of peer and parental pressure. My mom calls me at least three times a day, but I suffer stoically.

Basia slammed the trunk shut for me so I could answer my phone.

I flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lexi, it’s me.” The sound of Finn’s lilting Irish voice made my heart skip a beat. For some reason, the brogue seemed to come out more when we talked. I hoped it was because he knew it was a serious turn-on for me, but more likely it was because he was worried and wasn’t expending any effort to keep his accent neutral. Actually, that worked for me, too, because I liked the idea that he felt comfortable around me.

“What’s up?” I said.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Really. Thanks for asking.”

“You up to hearing what I discovered today?”

“Of course.” I leaned back against the car and then mouthed to Basia that I was talking to Finn. She made kissy noises with her mouth and I rolled my eyes.

“I just finished talking with Michael’s father, Gene Hart,” Finn continued. “Gene spoke very highly of Darren. It sounded like he considers him a second son. He’s known Darren since the two boys became close friends in college. Then, of course, he provided much of the start-up capital for their company. He says Darren seemed to change after Michael’s unexpected death.”

“Change how?”

“He said Darren had become paranoid.”

“Paranoid? He used that exact word?”

“He did.”

I considered for a moment. “Paranoid of what?”

“That someone was out to get him.”

“Paranoid enough to do a disappearing act?”

“Possibly. But something else is bothering me. Gene didn’t seem all that worried that Darren had vanished.”

“You think maybe Darren let him in on his plans?”

Finn paused. “No, I don’t think so. I think he just considers it something Darren might do to get himself together.”

“He didn’t seem worried in the slightest? Did you tell him about the note?”

“I did. That seemed puzzling to him, but he couldn’t offer any insight. Unfortunately, he’d never heard of you and couldn’t imagine what would make Darren issue such a peculiar SOS. Of course, he’s more concerned now, but had no substantive information that could help us clear any of this up.”

“Great.”

“Cheer up. There is a bit of good news.”

“Such as?”

“I have the key to Darren’s apartment.”

“That
is
good news. Where’d you get it?”

“Gene gave it to me.”

“What is Michael’s father doing with a key to Darren’s apartment?”

“Who else would Darren give the key to? Gene is practically his surrogate father.”

It still didn’t make sense to me because there was no way in the everlasting depths of hell I’d ever give the key to my apartment to
my
mom. Perish the thought. But, hey, different keystrokes for different folks.

“Okay. Can I come with you when you look through his place? I’m hoping to come across his transcripts from Georgetown or something else that might jog my memory about him.”

“I thought about doing it right now. Are you game?”

“I’m always game,” I said. “Give me the address again.”

He told me and I committed it to memory. Since it was in Virginia, out near Dulles Airport, I figured I’d need about forty minutes to get there.

“I’m going to grab something to eat,” Finn said, “so I should get there about the same time. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“Perfect,” I said. “See you then.”

I snapped the phone shut and slipped it in my coat pocket. Basia raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her soy latte.

“A late-night rendezvous?”

“Yes, but unfortunately not the kind that you’re implying. He’s got a key to Darren’s apartment.”

“What about the key to your place?”

“Surely you jest. We haven’t even officially had a date yet.”

She chuckled. “So, be bold. Give him your key tomorrow night.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole date thing. I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Of course it will. You’re just as desirable, in your own way, as the supermodels and actresses he usually dates.”

“That
so
doesn’t make me feel better.”

She grinned. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s just way too much fun to yank your chain. Seriously, you need to relax, Lexi. Finn wants to be with you and not some supermodel. He likes you precisely because you aren’t interested in his looks or money. He’s attracted to your intelligence, kindness and wit, and I’d venture a guess it’s the same on your side. Right?”

I nodded. “Okay, you’re right. Can we just stop talking about Finn now, please? I’m already on the verge of a nervous breakdown and the date isn’t even until tomorrow.”

She patted my arm. “You’ll do fine. Now go meet with him and be yourself. That’s what he likes best about you.”

I wasn’t thrilled with that assessment, but what else could I do? As I climbed into the car, Basia added, “Whatever you do, don’t tell him about the gown. Every girl needs to keep a surprise up her sleeve.”

“Um…the gown is sleeveless.”

“Turn of phrase. You know what I mean.”

“I just hope he likes surprises.”

“All men like surprises. Especially those that involve cleavage.”

“I don’t have cleavage,” I protested. “It’s just an illusion.”

“Luckily for women, just the suggestion of cleavage is enough for men.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said, slamming the door and starting the engine. I waited until she climbed into her car and waved as I drove off.

While stopped at a red light, I double checked the directions on the map and then headed south on the interstate, toward the Dulles Toll Road. I found Darren’s place in just under thirty minutes. He lived about a mile from Flow Technologies, which apparently made his commute quite comfortable. He didn’t have to face crazy drivers, road rage and bumper fumes on a daily basis like I did, but everyone has a cross to bear and a crappy commute happened to be one of mine.

I saw Finn already standing in the parking lot, leaning against his dark green car and sipping what looked like a cup of coffee. I pulled into the empty spot next to his and hopped out of the car.

He pulled me into a one-armed hug, kissing the top of my head. “You made good time.”

“So did you.”

He studied my face. “Are you sure you’re okay after what happened in the garage today? He didn’t harm you in any other way?”

“No. Just scared the living daylights out of me. No sweat, really. After our last adventure together, I think I’m getting used to attracting psychos. I’ll talk to the police in the morning.”

He didn’t look happy, but didn’t argue. “So, what do you think?” He motioned toward the apartment complex with his coffee cup. It looked to be about fifteen floors and had pleasant landscaping. The building was lit up and you could see right into several people’s apartments who had either neglected or not wanted to pull the curtains. Most places seemed to have balconies and I could see several bicycles and small tables placed upon them. The parking lot was also nicely maintained and well lit.

“This is where Darren lives?”

Finn nodded. “It’s a pretty nice place.”

“What floor is he on?”

“Thirteenth.”

I looked at him in surprise. “I thought most apartment buildings skipped the thirteenth floor. Bad luck and all.”

Finn just shrugged, but it seemed like a bad omen to me. “Are we going in?”

“Not yet. There is something else I’d like to fill you in on.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling my coat closed and buttoning it up against the cool November air. I had forgotten my gloves, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets and leaned next to him against the car. I could see puffs of my breath.

“I obtained the police accident report on Michael Hart’s death,” he said.

“And?”

“He apparently swerved to avoid a car that veered into his lane. They never found the driver of the other car.”

I fell silent, considering that. “Do you know any more details?”

“It was early evening about two miles from here. There was one witness, an elderly woman, who was driving behind Michael and said a dark sedan coming in the opposite direction veered sharply into the path of Michael’s car. She guesses that maybe it was a drunk driver. When Michael went off the road, the other car didn’t stop. She dialed 9-1-1, but it was too late. He’d been killed instantly upon impact.”

“She didn’t get a look at the license plate or the driver?”

“Neither. The dark-colored sedan is the only detail she could remember.”

“Great.”

“Lexi, there is something else. Gene Hart didn’t have much good to say about Niles Foreman and the other investors.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Did he say why?”

“He didn’t much approve of their cutthroat approach toward handling the company.”

I didn’t either, but then again, I didn’t know squat about running a business. “Did he elaborate on what he meant by cutthroat?”

“No. Unfortunately, Gene was rather tight-lipped when it came to discussing his personal feelings for the group.”

“Does he still have any shares in the company?”

“Yes, a small amount.”

I sighed. “That’s probably why. Still, I don’t get it. Why come to us? If Niles and his buddies are so worried about recovering their investment, why don’t they hire an insurance investigator to track him down and to hell with the cryptic note about me?”

“My guess is they don’t care about the twenty-five million dollars in insurance money at this point. As it stands now, Darren’s ideas are potentially worth a hundred times that. Besides, Niles wants this investigation to be discreet so that they don’t frighten off the shareholders.”

“Yeah. Great.”

To my surprise, he reached out and put an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, don’t sound so grim. You got us our first case.”

“It’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me neither. But I’m starting to expect the unexpected when it comes to you.” Did he sound happy about that? “Come on, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go in.”

Actually, I wanted to stay, leaning against his warm, hard body, but my nose was frozen and my ears had started to burn from the cold. “Sure, I’m ready.”

We walked up to the doorway entrance and Finn keyed in a code. We took the elevator to the thirteenth floor and walked down a burgundy-carpeted hallway. Finn stopped at apartment number 1307 and tried the key. It worked, so he stepped in and flipped on a hall light.

I gasped. It was evident, even from Darren’s foyer, that the place had been tossed. Papers, books, DVDs, CDs, cushions and clothes were scattered everywhere as far as the eye could see.

“Shit.” Finn walked farther into the living room area and turned on another lamp. I followed close behind, looking at the mess strewn about. Dammit! I’d just had my apartment tossed a few months back and it sucked, not only because it was a serious personal violation, but it took me a heck of a long time to put everything back in the right spot.

“Stay here.” He motioned me back with his arm. “Let’s make sure we don’t have any unexpected visitors still here.”

“Are you armed?” My heart started pounding.

He shook his head and then pressed a finger to his lips. I stood in the doorway, my hand clutching the cell phone in my pocket. If I heard even the slightest unusual noise, I was calling 9-1-1.

To my relief, Finn reappeared moments later. “The place is empty, but someone did a pretty thorough job of ravaging it.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“How do we know he doesn’t live this way?”

“Oh, please. No one lives like this. Not even me.”

Finn nodded. “Okay, I agree. But before I bring in the police, I’ll have to clear it with Niles first.” He pulled out his cell phone and pushed some buttons.

I shrugged. “Well, while you’re doing that, I’m going to look around. Although I’m not sure what I’ll be able to find in this disaster.”

“Start in the living room and I’ll check in the bedroom.” Finn disappeared down the hall still holding the phone to his ear.

For a moment, I stood in the living room and looked around. It was small but comfy. Darren had a huge plasma television set flanked by a decent stereo, but neither appeared to have been touched by the intruders. The walls were bare except for two posters. The first hung directly over a handsome wooden desk that had been pushed up against the wall next to the sliding glass door out to the balcony and contained a photograph of Einstein beneath which was the phrase “The Only Real Valuable Thing is Intuition.” The other poster was positioned over the television and had words only, contrasting white against black: “Your Opinion, Although Interesting, is Irrelevant.” I sniggered. Well, at least the guy had a sense of humor.

The desk seemed a sensible place to start to look for anything of interest, so I gingerly stepped my way across wayward cushions, DVDs and other assorted junk. A computer had apparently once sat on the desk because there were several cables snaking up to the desktop and a printer/fax still stood on an adjoining table. But there wasn’t any computer in sight. I checked under the desk and around it and even took a quick peek into the kitchen, but I didn’t see anything.

I didn’t know what kind of computer Darren had. If it was a laptop, it could be that he had taken it with him when he vanished. If he had a desktop computer, my first bet was that the people who ransacked the place had stolen it.

I knelt down and opened the small door on the table where the printer sat. I switched it on and put a piece of blank paper in the slider. Pushing the redial button, I watched to see where Darren had sent his last fax. To my disappointment, the number for Flow Technologies came up. Nothing too exciting about that.