No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (6 page)

“We should live together,”
he announced over dinner at Le Rochet du Nuit.

“It’s rather soon,” I had
replied.

“When it’s right, you know
it. We make beautiful music together.”

“I hardly know you,” I
pointed out to him over a plum galette for two.

“How else will we ever find
out everything there is to know about each other unless we’re
always together?”

George had showered me with
attention, constantly wanting to know the details of my life --
where I was born, what my parents were like, the family history,
the genealogy, even things like when Bosco and I bought the house
and how much we had paid. Looking back, I could see the reality. He
was trolling for the information that would unlock the gates of my
castle. I had been flattered by his intense interest in me,
mistaking it for love. How disappointing to learn the gazes we
exchanged were driven by his greed, his desire to steal what
mattered most to me. I felt even more the fool. Was I so hungry for
love and attention that I threw all caution to the wind? At least I
had the good sense to remember all the business lessons learned at
Bosco’s side. “Never mix business with pleasure,” had been a
constant phrase in his repertoire. “Business is business. It’s
about money.” At the time, I had viewed that as a cynical,
cold-hearted perspective on life, but it may yet turn out to be my
saving grace. At least I still had my investment in Dynamic
Productions.

In all the time I had spent
with George, I had never been in his home or his car. When he moved
in with me, he announced that he had rented his Manhattan apartment
fully furnished, in order to avoid having to store his belongings.
He came with three suitcases of clothing, a laptop, and his cell
phone. As if he were only planning to stay a short while. As if he
were on a business trip.

With my purchases in hand, I
now strolled back to work, preoccupied with the remembrance of that
auspicious start of my budding romance with George. I was missing
something, some clue that I should have caught, some little piece
of information that could now explain how I had lost my life to a
heel like George, but I just couldn’t seem to grab it when it came
close to the surface.

The minute I was through the
front door, Gloria greeted me with phone messages that needed
immediate attention. I kept busy handling day-to-day tasks. By one
thirty, I was ready for some lunch. We sent out for food, so we
could have a group meeting, to discuss several upcoming
projects.

Ralph was out most of the
afternoon on a video shot for a well-known medical center with Dom
and a couple of college interns working for us for the summer. The
three students were getting credit for learning the ins and outs of
video production. At quarter to five, I took the daily notes and
put them on Ralph’s desk. His normally tidy desk was loaded with
paperwork. Afraid that the material would get mixed up with his
mail, the monthly billing reports and the storyboards for a few
planned commercials, I stacked my pile on the chair in front of his
desk, and as I did, my eye caught sight of something that startled
me. It was the envelope sitting on top of the day’s mail in his
“in” box, addressed to Ralph in a familiar hand. Why was George
sending Ralph mail?

With a furtive glance out
the door of the office, I could see Gloria busy talking on the
phone. Kendall was in the production booth across the way. I could
see her editing her piece through the interior window. Everyone
else seemed to have left the building. Moving quickly, I took out
my camera phone and snapped a couple of pictures of the envelope,
including the return address. It was just an ordinary # 10 business
envelope, with a logo in the upper left-hand corner. The graphic
was of an open eye and a closed eye. The name of the company was
Wink-Wink Productions, with a Manhattan address. It was postmarked
from New York two days ago.

“Everything okay?” Gloria
stepped in with another pile of papers for Ralph, wearing a
smile.

“I was just leaving this
stack for Ralph, and I wanted to put them somewhere they wouldn’t
get swallowed up by the crowd.”

“Well, the chair looks like
a fine place. I’ll make sure he gets them first thing in the
morning. He said he’d be back tonight, after the shoot, if anything
is critical.”

“No,” I replied, heading out
of Ralph’s office, his assistant on my heels. “Tomorrow’s
fine.”

“Where are you staying,
Dori? Can I give you a ride?” Gloria picked up her hobo bag from
her desk and pulled out her car keys.

“Thanks, no. Bosco promised
to pick me up. I’m staying with him.”

“Well, see you
tomorrow.”

“You, too.” Gloria stepped
outside and crossed the parking lot to her Subaru wagon. I watched
her through the window as I waited for Bosco. Alone in the office,
I thought about what I discovered. George had sent Ralph something
in the mail after he had ripped me off. Would Ralph tell me about
it in the morning?

I caught sight of a movement
out of the corner of my eye and realized Bosco had parked his Ford
Taurus in the spot Gloria had vacated. Closing the door of Dynamic
Productions behind me, I double-checked the knob to make sure it
was locked before crossing the parking lot and sliding into the
passenger seat next to Bosco.

“Where to?” he wanted to
know.

“I need some clothes,” I
told him. “How about Kohl’s? They’re probably having a
sale.”

“Do I get to help pick out
your new wardrobe or am I delegated to purse-holding?”

“Depends,” I grinned. “What
did you have in mind?”

An hour later, I had
rummaged through the Ralph Lauren sales rack, selecting a few
summer jersey dresses, slacks, and blouses, personally approved by
Bosco. We moved on to the lingerie department, where I found some
panties and bras, a cotton nightie, and a night shirt.

“You should get some shorts
and tee shirts,” Bosco said. “Can’t beat the price. And
sneakers.”

“It seems so strange to have
lost all my clothes,” I sighed. “I’m going to miss my shoe
collection. It took me a long time to build it up.”

“Let’s hope the insurance
company comes through, and you’ll have a chance to replace
things.”

“That would be nice,” I
answered, “but I’m not holding my breath.”

Bosco paid for everything.
He took out his wallet, picked a card, and slid it through the
scanner. I felt an odd sensation as he signed for my clothes. How
long it had been since we were a real couple, and how far apart we
had grown before we finally divorced. The last time he had paid for
something, it had been a new tire when mine had gone flat with a
puncture. Bosco had driven me to the garage to pick up my car.
Kevin was still alive, in the back seat, wanting to know if we
could stop for ice cream on the way to his game. After Kevin died,
it was like we were two people living different lives in the same
house. That was so long ago. Bosco looked at me now and I saw the
familiar face, but there was a question in his eyes. I wasn’t sure
what he was asking from me. In some ways, Bosco seemed very
different than the man I had been married to for nearly two
decades. He smiled as he put his wallet away.

“Ready?” I nodded. We picked
up all the bags and left the store.

“What do you want for
dinner?” he asked, after all the new purchases were ensconced in
the trunk. “We can stop on the way home.

“What are you in the mood
for tonight?” I thought for a moment. “Does that grill of yours
work?”

“It sure does,” he grinned.
“Steak, baked potato, and salad?”

“Just like the old days,” I
sighed. “Remember when we spent our summers under the evening sky
when we were first married?”

“It was heaven,” Bosco
admitted. “How about something for dessert?”

We went through the Caulkin
Corners Stop and Shop with a wagon. Our first destination was the
produce department for russet potatoes, baby field greens, an
English cucumber, and grape tomatoes. It was funny to see Bosco
selecting groceries to put into the cart. He read all the labels.
This was the man who rarely had any interest in what I bought
during our marriage, other than to know what I paid for the
food.

“Anything else?” He was
picking out peaches. “What about juice? Tea?”

We wandered the aisles,
picking up bread, A-1 steak sauce, strawberries, a small Sara Lee
pound cake, and a quart of vanilla ice cream, before we used the
self-serve checkout counter. I bagged while Bosco scanned. As we
walked to the car, my cell phone rang. It was Ralph.

“Hey, Dori,” he said,
somewhat breathlessly, “do you have a minute? I was wondering if
there is a way to help you out of your situation. How about I buy
out your shares of Dynamic Productions? I’ll buy Bosco’s, too. That
will give you guys some cash to tide you over while the mess with
the house gets sorted out. What do you say? Are you interested?
”

“I don’t know, Ralph. I’ll
have to sit down with Bosco and talk about it.”

“Sure, kid. No rush. I just
want to help you two out of the mess you’re in.”

“That’s nice of you,” I told
him.

“I’ll pay you $100 a share.
That gives you $75,000. I can give you a bank check. I just need a
day to get it processed.” An alarm went off in my head. Something
wasn’t right. Ralph had just invested heavily in Dynamic
Productions’ new facility. Bosco and I had put up some of the
money, accepting shares in return. How could he suddenly be so able
to pay us back? If he was so flush with capital, why did he need us
to invest? Why not just get a secured loan from the
bank?

“Well, I’ll let Bosco
know.”

“It’s a really good deal,
Dori. I hope you guys take me up on it.”

“We’ll think about it,
Ralph. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” I could hear
him talking even as I disconnected. Bosco glanced over at
me.

“What was that all
about?”

“Ralph wants to buy us out
of Dynamic Productions. He’s offered us $100 a share.”

“That’s stupid,” Bosco
decided. “He owes us more than that, especially with the money we
just put in.”

“He seems to think we’re in
need of money,” I pointed out.

“So?” Bosco turned right on
Waltham Drive. “What’s the problem with that?”

“How does he know what our
financial situation is?”

“You didn’t tell
him?”

“I did not.” I sat there,
thinking. Maybe it wasn’t my imagination about that letter from
Wink-Wink Productions. But how could George and Ralph be involved
in any way? I never told my colleagues about him. After all, it had
only been two months since he moved in, and we were still getting
to know each other. Bosco only met him because we had to file some
financial paperwork for the court on the third Sunday we spent
together. “I saw something disturbing today, but it didn’t make a
lot of sense until just now.”

By the time I got done
sharing the photos of the Wink-Wink letter, Bosco had already
turned the car around and we were headed back to Caulkings
Corner.

“We can’t just open that
letter,” I insisted. “It’s a federal offense.”

“Listen to me,” Bosco
growled. “You just got robbed of how much money? You’re worried
about Ralph? The guy just offered to buy your shares of stock for a
hell of a lot less than they’re worth. We need to know if he’s a
part of this conspiracy while there’s still a chance to nail the
bastards!”

“We still shouldn’t open his
mail! For all we know, George is trying to rip him off, too. Maybe
George thinks he can fleece Ralph the way he fleeced me. Come on,
Bosco. Can you really be sure?”

“I just want to have a
closer look at that envelope. Maybe we can read it if we hold it up
to the light. You should have told me about it when I picked you
up.” He glared at me as he pulled up to the stoplight. “You’re
always giving people the benefit of the doubt when you should be
worried that they’re out to screw with you.”

“Is it wrong to want to live
in a nice world?” I shot back. “Did it ever occur to you that it’s
not necessary to be so damned cynical?”

“Did it ever occur to you
that you invite trouble by being so naive? What kind of woman has
her boyfriend move in that soon after meeting him? You spent how
much actual time together before he arrived with his
suitcases?”

“That’s mean!”

“It may be mean, but it’s
true!” Bosco insisted. “We went together for how long before we had
sex? And you jumped into bed with this guy after how many
dates?”

“That’s none of your damned
business!”

“And yet, I’m the guy who’s
supposed to have your back! Now your buddy Ralph wants to buy us
out, and we’ll lose money on the deal, so it’s affecting my life,
too!”

“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll
take the money and move on, and you won’t have to worry about me
messing up your life any more!”

“That’s not what I’m saying,
Dori. I’m saying people aren’t necessarily as nice as you think
they are. If Ralph is offering to buy us out, he’s not doing it
because he’s a nice guy. He’s doing it because it benefits him and
screws us!”