by Hy Conrad
Mikimoto was on the low end of high end, with white tablecloths and reasonable enough prices. Definitely a date place. It was relatively empty on a week night but not uncomfortably so. She gave Will’s name – Will Peterson – to the hostess and was given a choice of being seated or waiting at the bar. She chose a corner table with subtle lighting, hoping that it might conceal that she was half a decade over her stated age of twenty-one.
She had just ordered a glass of pinot grigio when a tall, well-built, rather handsome man in a blue blazer stepped up to the table. “Heather?” he asked. “Heather111?”
“Will? Oh, hello. How are you?” Reflexively, she stood. Just as reflexively, she shook both his hands and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She had to laugh. “Starting off on the wrong foot, aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” His smile was bright and slightly crooked. “Exactly the right foot, as far as I’m concerned. Good to meet you.”
“I don’t usually kiss strangers.” He was a pleasant surprise. There was nothing creepy looking about him and his posted age of 32 seemed about right. The blazer was stylish but not expensive looking, and his face was square-jawed and thin-lipped, with just the hint of a dimple in his chin. His hair was dark brown and thick, combed back and curling over his ears. “That’s not your photo,” she said. “On the website.”
“It’s not,” he admitted. “I’m married, so I didn’t want to post… Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. It’s just… Most people, when they fake their pics, go for someone more attractive.”
“Well, thanks. I guess.” His smile was wide and open, his manner a little awkward but charming. “I guess I didn’t want to over-promise.”
“No, I’m happy you didn’t over-promise. It’s lovely.”
Will chuckled. “You know what’s kind of weird? A first date where the man gets all the compliments.” He leaned in, enough to be suggestive but not overly. “You’re gorgeous. And I love your hair.” Callie was so glad she’d finally washed it.
Her pinot arrived, along with the menus and a recitation of tonight’s specials. Will ordered a bourbon and branch on the rocks. This was State’s drink of choice and, for a moment, Callie was reminded that this wasn’t a real date, but part of her investigation.
“Have you ever done this before? I mean, the sugar daddy thing?” Callie covered her mouth, pretending to regret the question. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that a rude thing to ask?”
“Not at all.” Will said. “We shouldn’t have secrets, at least not about this.” He paused, looking a bit embarrassed. “Twice before. Once last spring. It lasted nine months. She loved animals and wanted to be a vet tech. I helped her go to school and she wound up getting a job in Galveston. It was just what she needed and the two if us stay in touch. The other was just recently. I don’t know why it ended, to be honest.”
“What do you mean?”
“We saw each other twice. Then she just stopped responding. I tried calling, texting. She’d said she needed help with her rent, which was fine. I would have been happy to help.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “Not every relationship works out, I guess.”
Callie was a little startled. He was obviously referring to Briana. “She just disappeared on you? That must have been annoying.”
“It was. I told myself I would never do this again. I tried an escort service for a while. They’re discreet, but too impersonal.” The corners of his mouth turned up, stretching out his little dimple. “And then I saw your profile.”
Callie felt both relieved and disappointed. She didn’t want this guy to be a cold-blooded killer. On the other hand, she’d been so proud to have tracked him down. Was it possible that he didn’t even know about Briana’s death? Callie thought back to her own situation. If she hadn’t talked to State and met Briana’s parents, she might not have heard about it either.
On the third hand, she knew from her father just how skillful a liar could be. The good ones stick as close as possible to the truth. Yes, he had started a sugar daddy relationship with a girl who had just disappeared from his life. All perfectly plausible and innocent.
“You’re being very quiet,” Will said. He reached across and took her hands in his long, strong fingers. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I didn’t do anything to make her ghost me like that, I swear.”
For a second, Callie thought of telling him about Briana’s death, just to gauge his reaction. But how could she bring up the subject? There was no conceivable way. “I believe you,” she said, aware of just how lame and condescending that sounded.
The conversation quickly began to lag, probably more Callie’s fault than Will’s, as they stared down at their menus. The server returned with his bourbon and branch water and they talked over their selections, with Callie ordering the trout special and Will choosing the pork and peanut noodles. After the server left, they clinked glasses, tasted their drinks and tried again.
This time it went better. Will asked smart, personal questions and seemed genuinely interested in Callie’s life and goals. Heather’s, actually. In Heather’s cover story, she had transferred from U.T. Dallas at the beginning of the semester to escape a bad relationship that had followed her out of high school and stayed way too long. Will knew a fair amount about Dallas and, thanks to her time at the Morning News, Callie was able to keep up the charade. Heather was just finishing up her junior year and hadn’t made many friends here. The girls were too cliquish, and the boys… They were just too much like boys.
Will sympathized. He even apologized for the callow frat boy he himself used to be. “Somehow we got raised without manners or consideration, especially to women. I’d like to blame it on our spoiled upbringings, but that would just prove how spoiled I still am.”
The rest of the evening flew by, despite Callie’s disappointment in the trout special. Will was a tech investor, he said. Through an old roommate – Texas A&M – he’d gotten in on the ground floor of two big I.T. businesses. He made some mistakes along the way, but still came out well financially and now was involved in something new. Ever since college, he’d done nothing but work. The marriage had produced no children and his wife Tammy, feeling bored and ignored, developed her own interests. Will wasn’t specific about what these interests were, but now that the business life was less demanding, he was developing interests of his own.
Callie had intended this to be more of an interview than a date, but it was nearest thing to an actual date that she’d had in a while. She could almost understand the attraction to the sugar lifestyle, if all of the daddies were guaranteed to be like this. Once every ten minutes or so, she had to remind herself that she was mirroring the behavior of a poor twenty-one-year-old who’d been raped and murdered less than two weeks ago.
They were still deep in discussion, mulling over the pros and cons of Heather’s psychology major and whether or not it would make sense for her to go to grad school, when the check came and went and they found themselves stepping out into an unexpectedly breezy spring evening. She had to physically restrain Will from taking off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.
“Okay,” he said and rebuttoned his jacket. “At least let me walk you home. Which way?”
If Callie hadn’t had those three glasses of pinot grigio, she might have thought before answering. “No, that’s all right. I’ll call an Uber.”
Will looked puzzled. “I thought you lived nearby. That’s why we picked Mikimoto.”
“I know, I know,” she improvised. “But I don’t feel like walking.”
“Then I’ll drive you. I’m just up the block.”
“No, that’s okay,” she insisted.
“You don’t want me to know where you live?” he asked. “That’s no way to start a relationship. I know how to be discreet, Heather. And if I’m going to be helping you with your rent and other such things…”
Up until around noon today, this wouldn’t have been a problem. But her home w
as now the gatehouse of one of the nicer estates in the toniest section of Austin. How could she possibly explain this? “Okay, you can walk me. I’m on 22nd, this side of Pearl.” It was Sherry Ann’s address.
“That’s just a few blocks.” Will chuckled. “I didn’t take you for such a diva.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”
On the entire walk, as she kept up her end of the small talk, Callie tried to remember. Had she left the keys on the kitchen counter as instructed or had she forgotten? She often forgot things like this. It would be wonderful if she had forgotten, if Sherry Ann’s keys were still in her purse, but she couldn’t remember.
When they stopped in front of the glass doors of the building, Will took a moment, gazing up at the limestone façade and the shiny balconies. “No wonder you need help with your rent.”
“Oh, it’s not terrible. I have a roommate,” Callie said and began rummaging through her purse.
“I disagree. I think a roommate is terrible. It means I probably won’t get invited up.”
“Not tonight.” She kept rummaging. She’d found her own car keys, but the search for Sherry Ann’s was not going well. “Well, thank you so much. It’s been a great evening.”
“First of many, I hope.”
“Me, too.” She started to flip her ponytail back over her shoulder then in mid-flip decided it was too much. “I’m not sure where we go from here.”
“Next time,” Will said. “We’ll get to know each other better and talk over the arrangement – including getting you a private apartment.”
Before she could reply, Will pulled her in. The kiss was warm and soft and unexpected in a way that made her inhale and taste the peanut noodles mixed with bourbon. She didn’t pull away but wrapped her arms softly around his waist. She could feel his whole body responding to hers and felt herself responding in the same way. Two long, deep breaths. Exchanging the same sweet, spicy air. Will pulled away on his own, just a moment before it would have become too much. A lovely, romantic kiss and not a prelude to anything more.
“Wow,” he said, echoing just what she felt. Under any other circumstances, she told herself, then floated back down to reality.
“I think this is where we say good night,” she said. Will nodded but didn’t move. He was waiting, she realized, for her to take out her key and open the door. “Good night, Will.”
He seemed slightly insulted. “I’m not going to push my way in.”
“I know that, but . . .” She actually didn’t have an end to that sentence. Instead, she returned to her purse and rummaged. Maybe she could say she’d lost them. Then what? He would insist on waiting while she buzzed her roommate. Would Sherry Ann be in? If she was, would Callie be able to phrase things to make it seem like she still lived there. “Hi, I forgot my key.” No. “Hey, Sherry Ann, can you buzz me in?” Better. But could they get through the exchange without Sherry Ann saying Callie’s real name? Unlikely. And if Sherry Ann wasn’t home…
A movement beyond the glass doors caught her eye. Someone was just getting off the elevator. Thank God.
Callie pulled out her own key ring, rattled it and tried to smile. “Ugh, I swear they could have bit me.” She stalled for time by gazing deep into Will’s eyes, then aimed her gatehouse key toward the keyhole just as the door opened.
It was a boy from Sherry Ann’s floor – short, slim, a little dorky – someone Callie had had a nodding acquaintance with during her few days here. He was dressed for a run, his white earbuds in place. “Hey,” she said, trying to make herself heard. “Good to see you.”
“Hey,” he said back and held open the door.
Callie stood on the threshold while Will stood at a respectful distance and didn’t repeat his request to come up. Then she gave him one last peck on the cheek and walked in as if she owned the place.
For the next few minutes, she hid out in an empty, unmoving elevator, trying to gauge how soon it would be safe for her to leave.
CHAPTER 24
Sarah was in the gatehouse kitchen, making lunch, when Callie and State brought their father home from the hospital. Gil had suggested Sarah be there, a familiar presence, to help ease him into the unfamiliar surroundings. Buddy was having a lucid day, which did not always correspond to a good day, as Callie had learned. His first demand was to go up to the big house to inspect the damage.
The three McFees walked through the leaf-dappled sunlight, arm in arm in arm, with Buddy in the middle. At the doorway, the children stepped aside, letting him go in first. The study was still protected by yellow tape and the security guard, a middle-aged woman this time, kept a careful eye on them.
Buddy leaned over the tape and glanced around the room. “Could’ve been worse,” he said in a calm, matter of fact way.
Callie watched her brother watching their father and wondered. Yes, today was a lucid day. But State had observed enough of Buddy’s behavior. Did he really not know? Or did he just refuse to admit it. If State never acknowledged it, then maybe it wasn’t happening and his father would remain the invincible Buddy McFee.
State stayed for lunch, Sarah’s smothered chicken with rice, and got Buddy settled in his new bedroom before leaving. Callie toyed with the idea of phoning Oliver and telling him of her date last night, but she wasn’t sure what she would say. She had followed a false lead with the first of Briana’s daddies. And Will be just as innocent.
There would be one more date, she told herself, during which she would use her journalistic skills to discover whatever she could. For example, was his name really Will Peterson or was that just his way of shielding his marriage? The internet had turned up dozens of Wills, Williams and Bills, plus endless numbers of “B” and “W” Petersons. Another question: Did he have any connection to Keagan Blackburn? Or did he live near the vacant lot where Briana’s body was found? This was all information that was worth a second date with an attractive, charmingly awkward man.
She was still culling through her Google list of Petersons, trying not to glance down at Briana’s graduation photo clinging stubbornly to the bottom corner of her laptop, when a ping alerted her to a MySugar message. It was Will, saying how much he’d loved last night. He thought they’d made a “thrilling connection” and, at the risk of repeating himself, said he would love to work out the details of an arrangement. What did she think?
Callie agreed. How about tonight?
Will replied that tonight was out. This was date night with his wife Maggie, an idea foisted on them by an optimistic marriage counselor. How about tomorrow? They settled on seven, at another casual spot in the University District, even closer to Sherry Ann’s.
Buddy was taking a nap when Callie left him in Sarah’s care in order to run a few errands. Her first stop was Sherry Ann’s apartment. It didn’t take much persuading for Callie to borrow a set of keys, the same one she’d left on the counter just yesterday. Her ex-roommate was intrigued, but Callie explained that she didn’t intend to use the apartment, just the building’s front door, and that it was all part of her journalistic investigation into Briana’s death, which seemed enough to satisfy Sherry Ann.
Her next errand was to buy a pre-paid burner phone, like the ones State had mentioned. The very concept seemed dangerous and only marginally legal, but she worked up the nerve to visit a small electronics store where a helpful 19-year-old named Henry sold her a modest, black flip-phone. He asked how much she would be using it. She said she didn’t honestly know and wound up buying eight gigabytes of talk and text.
“So, when I call someone, will this number show up?” she asked.
“It will. But your name won’t, and it’s almost impossible to trace the number back to you.” Henry eyed her curiously. “You doing something on Craigslist? Or is this some kind of boyfriend thing?” Callie smiled but didn’t answer.
She was still in the parking lot of the strip mall when she tested it with a call to Will. “Hello?” His voice sounded tentative and a little annoyed, as if he were expec
ting her to be a telemarketer.
“Hey, Will? It’s Heather.”
His voice brightened. “Heather! What a surprise! So, you’re finally giving me your number. I’m honored.”
“As you should be.”
They chatted for a few minutes and reconfirmed their dinner tomorrow at Dante’s. Will was not looking forward to his date night with Maggie and wished that he could spend the evening with Callie instead. Callie told him that he should keep an open mind and give it another chance.
*
The next morning, Callie got in early to go over the metro layout with Bob, the paper’s graphic designer, then went straight into a staff meeting. Oliver wasn’t fond of staff meetings and liked to keep them short. It was one of the few things he and Callie agreed on these days. Minutes after the meeting ended, Sarah texted her, asking her to come home. Nothing urgent, but please come home. Because of the fire and her father’s condition, everyone at work was cutting her slack and not asking too many questions.
Sarah was just putting on her hat when Callie pushed open the front door. “Just in time,” Sarah said, even though they both knew she would have waited. “I need to do some shopping for dinner and I didn’t want to leave Mr. Buddy by himself.”
“Is he okay?”
Sarah cocked her head and stared over her half glasses. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Oh, Sarah, please. I can explain.”
Sarah rechecked her reflection in the mirror then crossed behind Callie and out the door. “He’s in the kitchen.”
Callie took a long moment, which somehow reminded her to plug both of her phones into the charger on the entryway table. When she walked into the kitchen, she found her father in the process of pushing the retro, Formica-topped table over toward the bay window. “What’s wrong with this place?” he grunted as he pushed. “Why does your mother always have to change things? The door used to be over there. What was wrong with the door?”
