Lorna Barrett - Sentenced to Death

“We’re meeting a friend. I believe she reserved a table. The name’s Fowler,” Angelica said.

“Oh, Mich. Yeah, she’s one of our regulars,” the young woman said, and grabbed three menus from the rack alongside the lectern that served as her post. “Right this way.” With a flip of her index finger, she indicated they should follow. She led Tricia and Angelica to a table near the side of the room, away from the bar and the swinging door to the kitchen.

“Would you like to order something from the bar?” the hostess asked.

“We’ll wait for our friend,” Angelica said.

The hostess nodded and left them alone.

They didn’t have long to wait. Michele arrived like a mini tornado. She stopped to say hello to every employee, who welcomed her like an old friend. Tricia suspected that everywhere she went, laughter soon followed.

Michele caught sight of them, fingered a wave, and rushed across the room to join them. “Am I terribly late?”

“Right on time,” Angelica said.

The hostess lost no time in returning. “What can I get you ladies?”

“A glass of chardonnay,” Tricia said.

“Chardonnay,” Angelica echoed.

“Merlot,” Michele said, and set her clutch purse on the table.

The hostess gave them a nod and headed toward the bar.

“Well, I suppose you want to know all the dirt about David Black and me,” Michele said. Apparently she didn’t see the need to waste time with idle chitchat.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Tricia said.

“We’ve had sex exactly six times over the last two or three weeks. Marvelous it was, too.”

“So your relationship is a pretty recent thing?”

“Definitely, although I’ve known David for almost a year now. He approached me about showing some of his horrible bird sculptures. Well, they’re strictly for the amateur art show circuit, aren’t they? I asked him if he was doing some serious work, and he showed me sketches for his beautiful gate—which was then a work in progress.”

“How long have you had the finished piece in your gallery?” Angelica asked.

“Three weeks.”

So, they’d celebrated the grand unveiling with a roll in the hay. Not very original, but if David was getting no kudos from his wife for his artwork—or anything else, apparently—and an attractive woman was all too willing to show her appreciation in some fashion, why wouldn’t he succumb to temptation?

“Did you know David was seeing someone else?” Tricia asked.

Michele sighed. “Obviously, ours was never an exclusive relationship.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not a bit.”

The hostess arrived with their drinks, setting them down on cocktail napkins. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Angelica said with a smile that said, Go away so we can talk!

She did so.

“I understand you had a conversation with David’s wife the day she died.”

Michele sighed. “I called to invite her to see David’s work. I’m afraid she was rather rude to me.”

“Did she know you were having an affair with her husband?”

“Possibly. But my intentions were sincere. I was hoping they’d get back together again.”

“Why?” Angelica asked, incredulous.

“David’s a very confused and unhappy man. Rather than gallivanting around with an incredibly attractive, older, sexy woman, I suspect he’d prefer to be home with a wife and family. Not that he ever mentioned it to me.”

“But he had a family,” Tricia insisted.

Michele raised a dark eyebrow. “I’ve since learned it was his wife who cheated on him—and a child that was not his own. Hard to pour on the love in a situation like that.”

“And yet you called her,” Angelica said.

“Men never know what’s good for them. They may have had their differences, but at the heart of things, I believe David really did love his wife.”

“And yet he was seeing you and Brandy Arkin.”

“Yes, what about this other woman? Is she good breeding stock?” Michele asked with a quirky smile. “Because I suspect more than anything what David wants and needs is a new family.”

“We don’t know that much about her,” Angelica said, “although until recently she owned a day care center. Sounds like that should make her the nurturing type.”

Michele quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe. David has big plans for his future.”

“Like opening a studio,” Tricia stated.

“Yes. I’ve seen it. It’s brilliant. And he intends to hire others to do welding jobs while he works on his sculptures. It’s a sound business plan. Mark my words, the man is destined for greatness.”

“And Deborah is dead,” Tricia said sadly.

“Everybody dies, eventually,” Michele said without judgment. “Let’s hope none of us goes before our time.” She raised her glass. Angelica did likewise. Tricia was slow to do so, but in the end, she did, too.

“Life is a journey,” Michele said. “At this point in my life I’ve been called a cougar by some of the women I used to hang with, and they’re right. But for the past five years I’ve had the time of my life, with a lot more action than I saw when I was in my so-called prime, if you know what I mean.”

Angelica smirked, but Tricia only felt bewildered. She’d been cast in the good-girl role for so long, she wasn’t sure she could break the mold—or even if she wanted to. And yet, on some level, she was extremely unhappy with her life. She missed loving somebody—and being loved in return.

“You girls are such fun. Something that’s been distinctly lacking in my life of late.” Michele took a swig of her drink and exhaled loudly. “There hasn’t been much of an economic recovery when it comes to the arts.” She stared at the lipstick staining the rim of her glass. “I’ll probably have to shut the gallery and declare bankruptcy before the end of the year.”

“Oh dear. What will you do?” Angelica asked.

“I’ll probably go back to managing a restaurant. I’ve done it before. Right here, as a matter of fact.” So that’s why she’d greeted the staff with such enthusiasm. “The hours are hell and the pay stinks, but it’s a living. That is, if I can find a job. A lot of restaurants and bars have gone under.”

“A woman like you? You’ll find something,” Angelica said confidently.

“Keep your ears open. If you hear something, give me a call.” She stood. “Sorry, girls, but I’ve got a business appointment with one of my artists.” She waggled her eyebrows and grinned. “Thanks for the drink, and please do call me again, will you?”

“You bet,” Angelica said.

Tricia gave a self-conscious wave and turned her attention back to her dwindling glass of wine.

Angelica leaned back in her chair and sighed. “When I grow up, I want to be Michele Fowler.”

“Oh, please. She can’t be more than five years older than you.”

“And she’s having a lot more fun, too.”

Tricia frowned. “I’m surprised at you, Ange. You’ve been the wronged woman four times now, and yet you’ve taken to Michele, who thinks nothing of sleeping with other women’s husbands.”

“At least she’s honest about it. To her it’s just sex. She’s not interested in a relationship.”

“That makes a difference?”

“It shouldn’t . . . but I guess it does.” Angelica polished off the last of her wine.

Tricia did likewise. “It’s too bad she’s losing her job,” Tricia said, and examined her empty glass, wishing there was just one more sip.

“She’ll land on her feet. People like her usually do.” Angelica rummaged through her purse, and then threw a few dollar bills on the table. “We’d better go.”