Leann Sweeney - Pick Your Poison

“You planning to call the police?” I asked.

“The Feldmans wouldn’t like that. No cops for them.” He relaxed, leaning against the fence and fanning himself with his hat. “Say, you busy tonight?”

“Married.” I smiled apologetically. “You say the Feldmans didn’t want you to call the police?”

“I answered an alarm over at their other house, the one down near the beach, a few months back, and—”

“They have a beach house, too?” I said, hoping he’d help me out some more. “Funny they never mentioned it.”

“Yeah, on the west side. Anyway, I answered a call from them about a break-in. ‘No cops,’ Mr. Feldman said. ‘Just get here sooner if there’s a next time and catch whoever is causing trouble.’ ”

“Hank? What are you doing?” yelled another man from the back door.

Hank rolled his eyes and sighed with disgust. “Questioning a witness,” he hollered back. “Listen, I better go.”

I certainly won’t detain you, I thought.

“If you ever have any security needs, I’m Hank.” He pointed proudly to his badge. “Guardian Angel Security. Give me a call.”

I waited a good ten minutes before I risked leaving, then sneaked between houses to the next block, where Kate picked me up and told me at least twelve times how she never should have agreed to this caper. We drove to the Victorian so I could clean up, and I exchanged my shorts and shirt for a skirt and blouse from the pile in my trunk. Both Kate and I seemed to always have half our wardrobes in the car, en route either to or from the laundry. We then sat on the floor in the parlor, Kate sipping on the jumbo iced tea we’d picked up on the way over.

“Despite my bungled detecting job, today’s adventure wasn’t a total loss,” I said, unwrapping a Snickers. “The security guard confirmed the Feldman connection to Parental Advocates. And since I learned the general vicinity of Feldman’s home, perhaps one of the phone exchanges from Hamilton’s office belongs in the West Beach area.”

“I don’t know how you convinced the security guard you were a neighbor, Abby. I would have blubbered and bawled like an idiot, then raised my hands and said, ‘Take me to jail. I’m guilty.’ ”

“By the way, Hamilton made a copy of your check. You did give her a check, right?”

“I had to,” Kate said. “That ice princess just sat there with her hand out after I wrote the thing, so I passed it over. She took it with her when she went for the water, then gave the check back and gave me the ‘cash-only’ spiel.”

“Hey, I would have passed it to her, too. But I’m afraid that despite my getting away with the tape, she now knows where we live, and who knows what else.”

Kate closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why did I ever let you talk me into this?”

“Because we’re doing the right thing.” I picked up the phone book lying next to me and started flipping through the pages.

“What are you doing?” Kate said. “We’re sixty miles from home, and my nerves are frazzled. We need to leave.”

“Be patient a little longer, okay?”

She stood and started pacing. “Okay. Sure. This is what I get for teaming up with you.”

I soon discovered two of the numbers on my Post-it note were located in the West Beach area. I picked up the phone, dialed, and heard a man’s voice on an answering machine. Feldman, maybe? I hung up and dialed the other number.

“Ellen Fulshear Home for Young Women,” said the female voice.

“Could I have your address?” I asked.

“Nineteen forty-five Bay Street. But no visitors after seven,” she said.

“I have a delivery. When’s a good time?”

“We’re used to deliveries here,” she said, then laughed. “Of course, ours take nine months. You can come after eight in the morning. Let me guess. Flowers for Susan?”

“Why, yes, but how did you know?”

“That young man of hers won’t leave her alone.”

I said good-bye and hung up, smiling. Maybe my luck had changed.

Kate shook her head. “Abby, you’ve got to quit pretending you’re someone else. With my name, address, and phone number in Hamilton’s hands, we probably haven’t heard the end of her, and—”

“I merely told the lady I had a delivery.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s not my fault if people jump to conclusions. I didn’t tell the security guard I was sitting in my lawn chair at my house, either. But don’t mention what happened today, especially to Terry. I did steal a videotape and break a window. That’s probably a misdemeanor, but—”

“Who do you think helped you with your misdemeanor? And who do you think could never justify that misdemeanor to Terry in a million years? Oh, no. I won’t be confessing this to anyone.”

“Ah, fodder for blackmail. I’ll remember that,” I said with a grin.

“Remember, that goes both ways.”

Hard to believe my sister, who’d never let a lie past her lips, was worried Terry would find out. I liked it, though. A bonding experience, I decided.

Five minutes later we hurried out to the car, the rain little more than a mist now, but before we were even in the Camry, Steven arrived.

“Got that bathroom torn up for me, Abby?” he called, climbing out of his truck.

“That’s a laugh. You want to see a disaster, hand me a few tools. Didn’t you already put a day’s work in over here?” I said.

He came over, nodded at Kate in greeting, then said, “I need to check a few dimensions before the crew pulls those fixtures next week. You ladies had dinner yet?”

“Is that an invitation?” The Snickers bar hadn’t put a dent in my hunger pangs.

Kate said, “We’ll have to pass, Steven. I promised Terry I’d meet him in town, and I’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.” She cast an anxious glance at her watch as she climbed into my car.

“Maybe next time, Steven.” I opened the door and slipped behind the wheel.

“I don’t want to eat alone, Abby. I’ll bring you home,” he pleaded.

I was hungry, and still feeling the excitement of the afternoon’s adventure. Why not?

Then a voice deep inside whispered, Because it’s not a smart move.

But I chose to listen to my grumbling stomach instead. So Kate drove on home alone and I went with Steven.

Not until we reached the restaurant did that inner voice start sounding more ominous. Steven had chosen a place complete with candlelight and panoramic ocean view. I was afraid before long he’d be humming “When I Fall in Love” and pressing his knee against mine under the table.

The hostess seated us by the window, and I saw the gulf roiling and frothing in response to the huge, swirling mass of clouds churning overhead.

“That’s an angry sea,” I said.

“I’d love to be out there while everything’s all stirred up,” said Steven.

“You’ve lived half your life in a storm. Doesn’t it feel good to be stable, regularly employed, and sober?” I regretted the words before they were barely out of my mouth. Why couldn’t I keep these brilliant insights to myself?

“I guess so,” came his halfhearted reply.

The waiter approached and I spoke quickly, thankful for the interruption. “We’re ready to order. I’ll have the red snapper, house dressing, and iced tea.”

“Scampi for me, the rest the same,” said Steven.

The waiter returned momentarily with our drinks and a basket of bread sticks. I squeezed lemon into my tea with one hand and nabbed a bread stick with the other.

“Been a while since you saw a meal?” said Steven, watching me with amusement.

“Sorry, but hungry is not something you get better at with practice. Besides, I had a busy day. Made progress, even. After the disappointment of finding a useless CD in the safe-deposit box, I—”