Rose Pressey - Chase Charley 02 - Seems Like Old Crimes (12 page)

I dialed Marc’s number. I hated to call when he was busy with other things, but I needed the help.

“It’s me again,” I said when he answered.

“Hello, me. Glad you called.”

He said that, but I wasn’t sure if my only calling when I needed something was beginning to get on his nerves.

“That man who tried to hit me with the car came by Courtney’s place. He left another note for me.”

“Is he still around?” Marc asked.

“No, he took off running when Courtney chased him.”

“That was a dangerous thing to do,” he said.

“She doesn’t think things through sometimes,” I said.

“Promise me you all won’t chase after him if you see him again.”

“I promise,” I said. But I couldn’t speak for Courtney. “I can meet you and give you the note.”

“How about I come by your place and pick it up? I get off work soon. Are you home now?” he asked.

“Actually, no. I’m still at her place, but I plan on going home now.”

He sighed. “I wish I was there so you didn’t have to walk alone.”

That was so sweet of him and I knew he wanted to help. “It’s not that far,” I said. “The guy is probably long gone for now.”

“Okay, how about I stop by in an hour?”

“That sounds perfect.” It would give me just enough time to get home and change before he got there.

When I hung up, Courtney said, “So you’re not going to let the guy get away with this, right?”

I placed the paper in my purse. “No, I’m not going to let it go. Marc is picking up this letter. Maybe this time it will lead me to this guy’s identity.”

Courtney sat on the stool behind the counter. “I sure hope so. Do you want me to walk with you?” she asked.

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s not that far. I don’t want to make it a habit to be afraid to walk home alone.” I placed my purse on my shoulder.

“Call me,” she said as I walked out of the shop. 

As soon as I got home, I slipped into jeans and a cute green blouse with little pink flowers. I’d barely reapplied my lip gloss when the doorbell rang. After glancing in the mirror one last time to make sure I didn’t have anything on my face, I rushed across my apartment and to the door. When I opened, Marc was standing in front of me.

He smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you made it home safely. I was worried.”

“I’m glad you came by.” I glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was in the hallway. Thank goodness it was just him. I wondered if he sensed my uneasiness. “Please come in.”

Marc smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

He looked handsome in his black pants and crisp white shirt. Apparently he’d changed before coming over too. He wasn’t nearly as casual as me though.

“You look great,” he said as he looked around my place.

“Thank you. Would you like to sit down?” I motioned toward the sofa.

He crossed the room and I followed behind him. My stomach did a flip as I watched him.

Marc sat on the edge of the sofa. He looked as if he didn’t want to get too comfortable. He was still in his professional police mode.

“I feel bad that you had to come all the way over here.” I moved closer to the sofa.

He shook his head. “I wanted to come here. This guy shouldn’t get away with this.”

I sat on the other side of the sofa. The silence settled over us for a moment. Marc had never been this far into my apartment. I enjoyed the easiness of being around him. I wondered if he felt the same way.

After reaching over and grabbing my purse, I pulled the note out and handed it to him.

“This is what Courtney got from the guy.”

Marc took the note and studied the paper for a moment. After a couple seconds, he looked over at me. “You don’t know him, right?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve never seen him before the other day.”

“Do you think he is just a fan?” Marc asked.

I shrugged. “I suppose, yes.”

“Sounds likes he’s taking it to a dangerous level,” Marc said.

I didn’t even want to think about what that dangerous level was.

“So how do you think he was going to deliver this to you?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe he was going to hand-deliver it?”

“It’s good that he didn’t get that chance,” Marc said.

I nodded. “Part of me thinks he’s just doing this for attention and another part wonders how dangerous he is.”

“In this situation you should just assume that he is dangerous.” Marc folded the paper back. “I want you to be careful, okay?”

I nodded. Now I was starting to be more afraid than ever. I was glad that I had Marc to look into this for me.

“The other note I gave you isn’t the only one that I’ve received from him,” I said.

Marc looked at me. “It’s not?”

“The other night when I was at the jazz club, the waitress gave me a note. I’d seen the man minutes before she gave it to me, so I knew it was from him.”

“What happened to the guy that night?” Marc asked.

“He left before she handed me the note. When I went outside, he wasn’t there. He may have been hiding. There are lots of places he could hide and I wouldn’t even notice.” I pushed to my feet and crossed the floor to my desk.

“What happened after that?” Marc asked.

I opened the drawer and pulled the envelope out. With the letter in hand, I went back to the sofa and handed it to Marc. Marc looked me in the eyes and then took the envelope. He opened it and took out the letter.

He read it and then looked up at me. “You never talked to him when he called?”

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, he’s never uttered a word when I’ve answered the phone. It’s almost as if he knows when I’m there and when I’m not.” I swallowed hard at the thought.

“That’s not impossible,” Marc said.

“I’ve been seeing him around a lot, but I never thought things would get so dangerous.”

“Where have you seen him?” Marc asked.

“Around my office, at Courtney’s, and the café. That’s just the places I’ve actually seen him. He may have been around at other places and I didn’t notice him.”

Marc nodded. “He probably was.”

That was the scary part, not knowing what corner the man was lurking around.

“Most of the time there is nothing we can do until he actually threatens you. Plus, we have to find him,” Marc said.

“Do you think it will be hard to find him?” I asked.

Marc shook his head. “I don’t think it will be.”

I hoped Marc was being honest.

“You mind if I keep these as evidence?” he asked, holding up the letters.

My eyes widened. “Do you think this guy will come after me again?”

“I hate to say this, but more than likely he will. He acts as if he is getting more dangerous with each encounter.” Marc reached out and gently squeezed my hand. “Try not to worry too much about this, okay?”

I nodded. “I’ll try not to, but at the same time, it’s hard not to think about it.”

“Like I said, we’ll do everything to find out who he is.”

I knew he meant that too. At least he hadn’t told me to mind my own business with the murder case. 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked.

A smile spread across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Marc might regret it after tasting my cooking. Plus, now I had to figure out what to do for food. A trip to the grocery store was on my to-do list, but I had been a little preoccupied the past few days.

“I’ll slip into the kitchen and get something started.” I motioned.

“Do you need me to help?” He started to stand.

Since I had no idea what I would make, I didn’t want him in the kitchen witnessing my abysmal culinary skills. He’d see how horrible a cook I really was.

I stopped him from standing. “It’ll just take me a minute.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said with a smile. 

Why had I asked him to stay for dinner? It wasn’t like I could actually make a decent meal. My invitation was going beyond Southern hospitality though. The real reason was because I liked being around Marc.

I marched into the kitchen in a bit of a panic. With my hands on my hips, I stared at the cabinets for a moment. I had to do something. Finally, I rushed over to the freezer and yanked open the door. I spotted a few pieces of chicken. I knew I had pasta and sauce, so that would have to do. Not exactly a gourmet meal.

I should have gone to the store. At least I had a bottle of red wine left. I pulled it from the rack on the counter and grabbed a couple of glasses. Next I grabbed the pasta from the cabinet and the jar of sauce. I could add a little to it for my own special sauce. Would Marc think I’d made it from scratch? Not a chance. My secret would be out soon enough.

After hearing the crash of pans, Marc called out from the living room. “Can I help?”

This was even more embarrassing.

“I think I’ve got it.” I brushed the hair off my forehead.

“I can help with that,” he said from the kitchen doorway.

I whipped around to see Marc standing at the kitchen door. I knew that my face was probably red. He smiled, probably sensing my embarrassment.

“I’m clumsy in the kitchen, in case you hadn’t guessed,” I said.

He laughed. “You look like you have everything under control.”

It was a good thing he thought so because that was far from the truth.

Marc stood beside me. “What can I do?”

I stared at the counter for a second. “You can put the bread in the oven to warm.” I pointed.

He took the pan and placed it in the oven as I took the pasta off the stove and over to the sink.

Marc grabbed the plates out of the cabinet. “I’ll just set the table.”

He walked out of the room as I hurried with the sauce. This was going better than I’d thought. Now that I’d seemingly found my kitchen groove, I placed the pasta in the bowl. Marc came back and grabbed the wine and glasses.

“It’s all ready,” I said with a smile.

He probably thought by the way I acted that it was the first meal I’d ever prepared. Marc sat across from me at my small dining table. I prayed that my food wouldn’t poison him. I spun the noodles around my fork and tried not to make a mess.

“I hope you like the food.” I gestured with my fork.

He took a bite and I waited for his reaction. After he finished chewing, a smile broke out on his face.

“It tastes delicious. I’m impressed that you can whip something up so quickly.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” My cheeks grew warm. It was sweet, even if he didn’t mean it. “I guess you don’t want to talk about Tim Swanson?” I asked as I took a bite.

“Normally, I would say no, but I know you’re involved with the case.”

“Of course you probably aren’t supposed to share any of this with me, right?” I asked.

He smiled. “We won’t even talk about that part.”

I took a sip of wine and then said, “Fair enough.”

I liked the way he thought. Marc took another bite.

“Do you think the black car was connected to the murder?” I poured more wine into his glass.

“It’s hard to say.” He took a drink. 

“I just want to know why this woman was talking to Tim Swanson and who she is,” I said. 

“You are persistent.” He smiled.

I traced the rim of my glass with my index finger. “You know, we found a bank ledger at Tim and Haley’s tour office. It was hidden under a floorboard. It was strictly by accident that I found it.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re just now telling me about it?”

I looked down at my plate. “It looked like he was moving money around. I just don’t know why. His name was the only one on the account.”

“What happened to the ledger?” Marc asked.

“I left it there. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Enough about the case.” He smiled and pointed to my
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
poster. “You like the 80s, huh?”

“Yes, maybe it’s silly, but I love it.”

“It’s one of the best movies of all time,” he said.

I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me or if he was serious.

“What do you like?” I asked.  

“Baseball. Watching movies. Believe it or not, my favorite is 80s too.” He didn’t crack a smile, so I had to believe he was being honest.

“Are you serious?
Weekend at Bernie’s?
” I quirked an eyebrow.

“I won’t admit to that,” he said.

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

Marc looked at his glass for a moment and then asked, “What’s the deal with you and the other reporter?”

I knew he would eventually bring this up. Now I had no idea what to say.