Hunter's Moon.htm (21 page)

I'd probably been too harsh, but I had a life, damn it! I couldn't be there to hold her hand every second.

Once I listened to all the voice mails— I'd guessed high, there were only twenty-seven— I had a list of clients that I had to visit. But first, I needed to work off the rest of the tension in my shoulders.

I changed quickly into shorts, T-shirt and sneakers. Once again, I set the alarm, even though I wouldn't be gone for long. Atlantic City and Vegas still stuck in the back of my mind. Paranoia keeps me alive.

I checked my mailbox on the way out. No surprise that there was nothing in the box except a yellow card informing me that I would have to go to the Post Office to pick up my mail. It had sat too long.

"Mr. Giodone!" came a voice from across the street as I started to take the note back to the porch. "Tony?"

I turned to see Mary Stickey, my long-time neighbor. She doesn't like me much, but tolerates me because I'm quiet and I keep the lawn mowed. She was holding a box.

"Yes, Mary?" I asked tolerantly. The frustration I still felt made it hard to be civil. Mary always smells like Dr. Pepper. I'm not sure if that's her base scent, but she is always prying into everyone's business, so maybe it's antifreeze. It's not a trait I like in a person. Still, it keeps me on my guard, so she's useful.

"The UPS man was here yesterday. He's been by several times and asked if he could leave a package for you with me. Well, of course, I told him he could."

"Of course you did." The words came out a little sarcastic. Damn busybody. But I put on a smile when she started a bit and smelled disapproving. She handed the box over without another word. I glanced at the address and recognized it. Fortunately, the company doesn't advertise on shipping boxes, and it hadn't been tampered with, so she didn't know what was in the package. Mary also didn't know that she'd just made my day.

"Hey, great!" I said sunnily. "I've been waiting for this."

"It's so heavy," she said and the potent antifreeze scent of her curiosity overpowered the vinegar of her earlier disapproval. "And what a strange size."

The narrow box was about seventeen inches long. Yep. Just enough for packing material around it.

I didn't comment on her implied question. "Thanks, Mary." I turned and walked back to the house. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stamp her foot before grudgingly turning to go home.

On the porch, I noted what I had apparently missed in my exhausted state yesterday. Three gummed notes— all from UPS, telling me that they had tried to deliver a package on different days, and now it was waiting at their office. I guess after I didn't show up there, they tried one more time. I punched in my code to turn off the system and put the messages and box on the kitchen table next to the pad of clients to visit.

That done, I turned off the coffee pot, set the alarm a second time, and left once more for a run. I resisted the urge to open the box. I knew what was in it and I could play with my new toy later. First I would need to deal with business and Sue.

It was hours later when I finally got to her house. "What took you so long?" she asked.

I shook my head wearily. "You would not believe the day I've had. God, but people are idiots some times!" Even a long run and a couple of sets on the bench press in my gym hadn't prepared me. Usually a run will keep the wolf at bay and I can be professional and courteous. Today it had been a chore.

Sue's scent had started as embarrassed but frustrated. She'd kept her distance when I arrived and I could tell that part of her was annoyed with me for being late. She was also annoyed with herself for needing me to be there at all. But the air around was slowly turning to curious. I took off my wrap-around mirrored sunglasses as we walked into the shade. I joined her on an ornate, wrought-iron bench and tucked them in the pocket of my grey polo shirt.

"What happened? Was it that Sara woman again?"

I gave a little wave of my hand. "Yeah, her and others."

"Were you able to fix the sensors in her shop?" Sue was honestly curious. I could feel it and smell it. Okay, sure. I could let off a little steam.

"There's nothing wrong with the sensors, Sue. There never is at that store. It's always employee error or actual thefts. I had to give yet another demonstration on how to nullify the magnetic strips. The check-out clerks hadn't read the memo that said hardback novels are now carrying sensors in the center of the book, near the spine. They were just scanning the bar code but not running them over the demag-netizer. Every book that went out of the store beeped. But that was easy. At least I was in and out of the place in under thirty minutes."

And I'd decided that Humphries' Department Store was about to get a whopping increase in their annual maintenance charge. I figured that if I tripled their fee, maybe they would move their business, or at least hire someone with a lick of sense to manage. I had made more than twenty service calls in a single quarter. That's just ridiculous.

"You figured it out and gave a demonstration that quickly?" The clove scent of her pride blended with surprise.

"It didn't take a brain surgeon. All I had to do was watch the clerks for a few minutes. I wrote the memo. It was obvious that they hadn't read it."

"You must have had a lot of calls to handle after being away for so long." She was trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I shrugged and shook my head. "Not too many, really. Most of the calls were billing questions. Bookkeepers always complain about my bills until I show them an itemization. I just had a lot of things to do."

I didn't want to make excuses by blaming my clients. I wanted to prove that I could continue on with my regular life, despite her existence. But whether or not I wanted to admit it, I had to struggle constantly all day not to come over and be in her arms. I really hated how tough it had been.

"Do you bill every time you go somewhere?"

I chuckled. "Only when they're idiots. Fortunately for my pocketbook, that's pretty often. The annual fee covers quarterly check-ups on the equipment and routine maintenance. If it's employee error, it gets billed."

I could feel that she didn't understand. It'd be easier to illustrate. "Take this doctor's office I went to. Just after I left to go to the east coast— before I met you— the last person out of the office forgot to lock the front door, but set the alarm. The wind kicked up, opened the door and the alarm went off." I glanced at her and saw that I had her full attention, so I continued. "The security monitoring company called the police. They checked it out and found nothing wrong."

I leaned back then and stretched my legs. I arched over the back of the bench and heard a couple of satisfying pops as my spine slid back into place.

"But why would they call you?" she asked.

"You've got me. The monitoring company turned off the siren by remote after the false alarm. On most systems, all the lights blink after a reset until you enter a three or four digit code. It's all explained on a sheet that I give customers when I install the system. I even wrote down the name and number of the monitoring company supervisor. There's a copy for each person with a key to the building. But did they even glance at the instructions?"

"No?"

I shook my head with a patronizing look. "No, they didn't even try. So, I'm gone for, Like, nine days. This whole time, the system has been down. It's just merrily blinking away on the wall. They're just damn lucky that nobody walked in and cleaned out the place."

I shook my head as I remembered the rage of the two doctors who owned the building when they'd found out. Of course, they're never the last to leave, so they didn't know about the alarm until I presented my invoice. Several of the front desk girls had been terrified they'd be fired. The scent of their fear had made me ravenous enough to stop and pig out on a triple decker burger on the way to the next call.

"And, as always, there are the employees who forget their codes and can't get in the building, or can't remember their codes so they write them down on paper and lose them. Then I have to pull out the laptop and assign a new passcode in the master computer. It was all typical stuff. It was just annoying and tiring."

I saw Sue flinch at one point during my tirade and it reminded me.

"By the way, what was the emergency this morning? You seem fine now, but you were really antsy earlier."

She looked at me and the dry dusty heat that spoke of embarrassment and shame burst from her. "I guess I'm one of your idiots. I forgot the code for the gate and nobody could get in or out of the estate today."

I stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed. I shut my jaw and tried to think of something to say that wouldn't be interpreted as an insult. "But you wrote it down. You asked for a sheet of paper, and then tucked it in your pocket. It can't have gone far."

"I did?" Her look of alarm was blending with the anger. She thought for a moment. "You're right! I did." Burning coffee and dust seeped off her, slowly intensifying until it filled the air. "Then I must have lost it. I can't believe that I was that stupid!"

I reached out and put a comforting hand on her arm. I moved it up until it rested on her neck and then rubbed the muscles gently.

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself, Sue. You were exhausted. It's why we both went to bed last night. It's no big deal. Really. What did you do all day?"

Her mood began to lighten as I rubbed and she relaxed into the massage. "Actually, it was a pretty good day. I got the whole upstairs cleaned! Then I read a book and relaxed in a long bubble bath for the first time in months."

I forgot to rub for a moment. "You don't have a housekeeper? You clean this place by yourself?" She'd already explained why baths were impossible. Every time she would try, her mother kept interrupting, asking for stuff and being generally annoying.

This time, I earned the patronizing look. "No, of course not. I have a housekeeper that comes in once a week— today. But she can barely keep up with the kids. Fortunately, none of them could get here today."

"Kids?" I'd never thought to ask, but that could be an issue in a long-term relationship. I don't dislike them, precisely.

She caught the tone of my voice and shook her head. "No, not mine. Bekki's. And frankly, after dealing with them for the past two months, I may never have kids."

"So you babysit every day?" That would explain why she'd gotten beat down enough to want to kill herself.

She nodded angrily. "You might as well say that. Actually it was Mom who agreed to watch the kids for the summer. It just ends up being me because Mom never does the things that need to be done."

"Such as?"

"Mike has T-Ball, and Cindy has swimming lessons at the Y."

"But your mom doesn't drive. Why would she agree to take them? And why would Bekki set it up to fail?"

"I told you. I'm supposed to be attached at the hip. What Mom agrees to, I'm part of. It's the way it is. I'm usually happy to take them somewhere, though, because otherwise they destroy the house. They play tag and knock something over, or leave the kitchen a disaster because they "made cookies" when I went to the store. Last week, Mike dropped a crystal punch bowl from the top of the stairs because he wanted to see whether it would explode. Big surprise— it did. Mom never makes them clean up. That's my job."

I suppressed a smile when Sue mentioned the punch bowl. I did a similar thing when I was a kid. Of course, I did have to clean it up and got grounded for a week to boot. "Well, the timing's good for us to do this today, if the kids aren't here. Remember what we talked about, though—"security consultant", right?"

She looked at me and winced. Then she smiled bravely. Tangerines filled the air. She leaned over and gave me a hug. I returned it with interest. "I'm glad you're here," she said.

Chapter 19

A moment later, we walked through the massive oak doors and I was greeted by my first sight of Sue's mother. I had to admit that she was truly pathetic looking. I almost laughed but that probably wouldn't set the right tone. Sue glanced at me but couldn't read my expression. Blank is one of my best expressions— I've had lots of practice.

Myra Quentin sat in a wheelchair with a nurse standing primly at her back. Her face looked pained and her eyes were dark with a sunken appearance. She hunched slightly in the chair and rested heavily on one armrest. She made herself as small as possible by scooting in the seat. Her legs shook visibly from the strain.

The problem was, she smelled of deceit. Lies upon lies until the black pepper smell made my nose burn. She also smelled like that buzzard daughter of hers. Not Sue. The blonde witch. That made me immediately more wary than I might otherwise have been. Well, that and the sharp smell of vodka that hit me like a wind. Odd that Sue hadn't mentioned mom was a drunk.

Myra's eyes were bright with suspicion and anger. That's not a real common trait in someone truly sick or injured. Pain dulls the eyes. If she had an injured hip she would favor it and keep weight off it. Sue told me it was her left hip that had been replaced. She should be leaning on the left hip, instead of the right, supposedly injured one.

When I looked closely, I could see that the pale face and sunken eyes were make-up. The dark circles from truly sunken eyes are actually blue from irritated blood vessels under the skin. Her "sunken" eyes were created by brown eyeliner. I could smell the waxy cosmetic. The dark wasn't uniform, meaning it had been applied somewhat hurriedly. Her nose was slightly more pale than the rest. Tsk. A bit too much facial powder. She probably pays better attention to detail when she's sober.

I glanced at Sue to see if she noticed. I could feel in my head her embarrassment and frustration at her mother's transparent ploy. What I couldn't figure out is why Sue had never called her on it. Part of me wanted to reach out and rub a finger through the liner and say, "Oops. Missed a spot." But again, not the right tone.

I could tell Sue's mother had once been a pretty woman. Now she was unattractive. It was intentional, which made it worse.