Two for Flinching (11 page)

“I’m meeting someone. Can I poke my head in
and see if she is already here?”

“Sure.”

The restaurant was dark, candles at the
tables, staff with overloaded trays weaving through the crowd. She
was at a table for two along the wall.

“You’re late.”

“Yes, ma’am. I had a work thing.”

“And you’ve been drinking.”

“I have not.”

“Beason, I’ve known you since we were eight
years old.” She had been home to change, putting on a black dress,
pearls at her throat. I could smell her perfume. Her long brown
hair was freshly brushed. She was not smiling. “I could always
tell.”

“One drink. I had to talk to a guy in a bar
and I had one drink. One drink does not constitute drinking.”

Hannah shrugged.

“Hey, Beason.” The waitress was at my elbow.
“Rum and coke?”

“Only coke.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Where’s Erin?”

“Hopefully, she is at home.”

“Tell her to call me.”

“You bet.”

She left. Hannah had that resigned look on
her face.

“What?”

“Nothing. How’s that working out? With
Erin?”

“Good.”

“How much longer does she have in
school?”

“One more year. I’m trying to get her to
change majors. Or go for her Master’s.”

“What are you going to do when she
graduates?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t thought
that far ahead.”

Hannah tapped the menu on the table. “I’m
hungry so you better be ready when your little friend comes
back.”

“Erin’s friend.” I didn’t need to look.
Some things never change.
Like the menu at Auriemma’s.
“How’s Ty?”

“Good. Finishing up his last year of
elementary school.”

“How are things with the ex?”

“Up and down. Mostly down.”

“Ty with his dad tonight?”

“No. My mom is watching him.”

“You tell her you were having dinner with
me?”

“Lord no.”

We laughed and my “little friend” returned
with my coke. Hannah went with manicotti and I ordered the chicken
alfreido.

“You ever hear from Stella?”

“Nope.”

Hanna shook her head. “Must be hard on you,
raising a little girl on your own.”

“I’ve got Erin.”

“For now.”

“Which is what counts.”

“How is Sarah coping with it?”

“It’s the only life she has ever known.”

“I can see that. Ty took it pretty hard when
Chris and I split. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Maybe.”

“She ever asks about her mother?”

“Once in a while. I figure it will get worse
as she gets older.”

“Poor thing. When are you bringing her to see
me?”

“We have an appointment in two weeks.”

The salads came. I picked out the black
olives and placed them in Hannah’s bowl. She giggled like the
schoolgirl I had known. Before the really, really bad decision.

“You haven’t changed a lick, you know that?
Not since we were in high school.”

“You kidding me?” She cupped her breasts.
“I’m a full cup size bigger.”

I laughed, spraying the table with lettuce. I
shook my head. “What happened to us?”

“You moved on to hard liquor. And
Stella.”

“I should’ve stuck with the liquor.”

“No,” she said, “you shouldn’t have.”

The waitress arrived with our meals, sliding
the food on the table. “Be careful,” she said, “these plates are
hot.”

Only they weren’t. They never were. The
choices of fine dining in Chickasaw Falls were limited. Luckily,
though, they still charged big city prices.

“How is Mary working out?”

“She’s okay. What was all that about this
morning?”

“She is supposed to be friends with a young
lady I’m looking for.”

“Supposed to be?”

“I’m having a hard time seeing it.”

“Who is the young lady?”

“Amber Noble.”

“She related to Steven Noble?”

“Not by blood. She’s his wife.”

Hannah’s eyes went wide. “Whoa.”

“What?”

Hannah shook her head. “Beauty shop gossip
stays in the beauty shop.”

“Since when?”

She sipped her tea. “I shouldn’t tell
you.”

“But you will.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Spill it or I’ll call your mom and tell her
we had dinner.”

“Talk about low blows.” She scooped a
miniature forkful of minestrone. “She was sleeping with him.”

“Mary?”

“Yes.”

“With Steven?”

“Yes.”

I leaned back from the table. “Were they
monogamous?”

“The way I hear it,” she said, “Steven Noble
doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Does Mary even know Amber?”

“Beats me. She never talked about her—didn’t
even mention Steven had a wife.”

“Huh.”

“Wait a minute,” Hannah said in that voice
that told me I had stepped in it. “Is that why you asked me to
dinner? Mary?”

“It is a free meal.”

Wrong answer.

“Some things never do change.” She pushed the
half-eaten plate away from her and stood. “See you in two weeks,
Beason.”

“Hannah! Wait!”

Of course, she didn’t and I had to watch
those long legs carry her away. Again.

***

“Hello.”

“Where are you?”

“How do you know I’m not at home?”

“Because I’m in your driveway.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“You wish. I thought you could take me out
for a proper dinner. You remember romance, right?”

“Too late. I’ve already eaten.”

“Drinks, then.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to get home to my
daughter.”

“It looks like your niece has that covered.
She even has a boy feeling her up on the couch. That couch gets a
lot of action.”

“Madison, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Who said anything about an idea? I thought
we could have some fun.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

“I’m not complaining now. I just—“

“Is it because of my sister?”

“It’s because I’m working a case you’re
involved in.”

“Bullshit. I can’t believe you’re trying to
be faithful to her.”

“Evidently, I’m not.”

“You know she was still fucking Steven,
right? She had to or he’d know she was cheating on him. From what
she told me, Steven had big time needs. That’s the thing about
getting involved with a married woman. They’re always fucking
somebody else.”

“Sounds like you’re the voice of
experience.”

“Fuck you, Beason.”

I wish I could say it was a personal record.
Two women pissed off at me within fifteen minutes.

***

The garage door opening and closing gave
them plenty of warning. Erin sat nunlike on one end of the
aforementioned couch, he on the other.

“Hey, Uncle Bees.”

“Hey. Who is this?”

“Oh, sorry. Scott Carroll, my uncle
Beason.”

“Scott.” I stuck out my hand, putting a
little extra into it.

Scott winced. “Mr. Camp.”

I sat between them on the couch. “You’re not
watching Alvin and the Chipmunks?”

Erin gave me that look.

“How is the princess?”

“Good. She didn’t want to go to bed.”

“And miss all the excitement?”

Erin blushed. Scott looked at his shoes.

“What are we watching?”

“The typical. Guy meets girl, guy loses girl.
Bunch of stuff blows up. Guy gets girl.”

“Sounds like my kind of movie.”

“It’s not.” Erin paused the movie and stood.
“I’m getting something to drink. You want something?”

“I’m good.”

Another look.

Scott said, “No.”

Erin left and an uncomfortable silence came
between me and the boy. Uncomfortable for Scott anyway. He seemed
okay, tall and slim, all knees and elbows, hair too long, bangs in
his eyes. My dad had told me that was when you knew you were
getting old. When the kids’ hair was too long and their music no
longer made sense.

“Uh, Erin told me you were a war hero.”

I gave him the hard cop stare. About the only
thing they let me take with me when I
left
the Indianola
Sherriff’s Department. I let it lay on him a long minute before
tapping him on the knee. “Don’t you forget it.”

Scott actually gulped.

Erin came back with a glass of Milo’s Sweet
Tea. My mother had made the best sweet tea on earth and I had never
discovered her secret. I had to buy mine at the grocery store. Erin
said, “You gonna be around tomorrow night? We were going to go
out.”

“Sure, I’ll be here.”

Erin hit play without another word. Her body
language said plenty.

“You’re right. This isn’t my kind of movie.
I’m going to turn in.”

Erin relaxed. “Good night.”

“You crazy kids be good.”

Scott nodded enthusiastically. Erin gave me a
subtle finger. I leaned over and planted a loud smack on her cheek.
“I love you, honey.”

“You, too.”

One last dirty look to Scott and I climbed
the stairs to the guest room.

Chapter Eighteen

It may have been Saturday everywhere else in
the world, but I still had work to do. Or at least something akin
to it. Seven o’clock in the morning, I sat parked in the Jeep
facing the entrance to Fitness Plus. I needed coffee—was desperate
for coffee—but it always made me feel dry when I drank it right
before a workout. I didn’t expect much of a workout today. Like I
said, I was working.

She was in pink scrubs and carried herself as
if she was on her way home instead of her way in. Her brown hair
was pulled up, a duffel bag over one shoulder, no jewelry I could
see aside from the diamond studs in her ears. She walked past me
without seeing and I waited a couple of minutes before
following.

It was cool out, no breeze to speak of,
already in the high forties in our bipolar Alabama winter and the
weatherman promised we would see sixty by the end of the day. I was
in shorts and a t-shirt and left my wallet and the .45 locked in
the Jeep, carrying only my keys inside. I had a coupon for a one
time visit and filled out the form using Randall Roger’s name,
address and phone number. I didn’t have his email on me so I had to
leave that line blank. I politely refused the tour and promised to
come back with any questions. Somehow I made it away from the
counter without anybody I knew coming by and blowing my cover. It
was a Saturday morning and everybody I knew would still be in
bed.

I found an open area near the cardio machines
and did some light stretching. I doubted I would need the full warm
up. She came out in a tight pair of black workout shorts and a
sleeveless aqua tee. Her body looked like she took her workouts
serious. She climbed onto an elliptical machine and began punching
numbers. We were alone aside from a slightly overweight woman
reading a paperback novel on a treadmill. I climbed onto the
machine next to her and began punching numbers. Weight-180; Age-33;
Program-Interval; Level-20; Time-30. I didn’t want to work too
hard. The sweating and panting has a tendency to cut down on
conversation.

She looked up and I gave her my best
I’m
mildly interested but not a stalker
smile. She gave me her
No way in hell
smile and went back to the glamour magazine
perched on her machine. I should have went with my
I know you
want me
grin.

“Are you a nurse?”

She looked up again, mild concern now on her
face. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you come in.”

“Oh.”

“You work at the hospital?”

Back to the magazine. “Yes.”

“My neighbor is a nurse at the hospital.”

“Really?”

“Amber Noble.”

She faltered before regaining her rhythm. “I
know Amber.”

“I haven’t seen her in a while,” I said.
“Have you?”

“No.” That must have been a very interesting
article.

“You know where she is?”

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” I stuck out my hand. She didn’t
take it. “Beason Camp.”

She stopped pedaling—or whatever it is you do
on those things. Her eyes went wide. “You’re the guy.”

“The guy?”

“The guy Amber was…”

“Yep. I’m the guy.”

She shook her head and went back to pedaling.
Or whatever it is.

“I’m looking for her.”

“You don’t belong to this gym,” she said. “Do
you?”

“No.”

She looked over her shoulder. The reader on
the treadmill was paying us no attention, having stuck the ear buds
from her i-pod in.

“Steven hired me to find her.”

“Steven?” She laughed. “He know about you
two?”

“Yes.”

“That must have been interesting.”

“I gave him a good discount.”

“I bet.”

“So,” I said, “you know where she is?”

“No. She hasn’t been to work in a week and
isn’t answering her cell. I called the landline and Steven told me
she was sick.”

“You believe him?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Not
anymore.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Last Saturday. Here, for our usual
workouts.”

I nodded. My machine had picked up the pace
and I stopped pedaling. Or whatever it is.

“That’s why you came here. To see me. She
told you about that.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I had to talk to you. Because I
don’t know where you live and I thought going to the hospital and
asking every pretty nurse I saw if she was Vanessa might get me
arrested.”

A small smile at the compliment.

“You know where she is, Vanessa?”

“No.”

“Any idea where she might have gone?”

“None.”

“You think she might have left her
husband?”

“I hope so.”