“You’re enjoying yourself?”
“Of course I am, aren’t you?” I asked. It was the natural concern of the recently separated.
He sat down on the bed and patted the spread next to him.
I stepped back, then jumped high in the air to land next to him on the king-size bed.
“Let the people downstairs bitch about that,” I said as the bed made a tremendous thump on the hard wooden floor. We laughed in bed together until we started kissing again and I lost all track of time. I couldn’t remember the last time falling asleep had been so entertaining.
The next thing I remember was a bright light in my face. I was thinking, Who the hell is shining a light at this time of the night? When I opened my eyes and everything came into focus, I realized it was the next day and that the bright light was shining in everyone’s eyes.
Marty’s arms were wrapped around me, and he nuzzled my neck. I could tell by his scratchy voice he didn’t feel great when he said, “What time is it?”
I looked at the clock on my nightstand. “Jesus, it’s two in the afternoon.”
This wasn’t a game; I’d had one of the best nights of my life. And I was pretty sure Marty had too. It felt like the smile on my face wouldn’t come off all day.
Chapter 4
The next two weeks were a whirlwind, and I saw Marty Hawking all but two nights. We’d made the focus of our relationship amusing ourselves and keeping things exciting. I felt like a teenager with her first boyfriend. Life can be harsh and people can be rude, but when you’re in a fresh romance, everything is easier. That was what the last two weeks had been: fun, thrilling, and unexpected in every way. We went to the Palm Beach Improv in CityPlace and rode the Diva Duck through the streets of West Palm Beach right into the intracoastal. It may have been a touristy thing to do, but having Marty with me made it special.
I adored the way Marty was full of life, just like a big kid. He got so much joy from everything and loved to see me smile. Almost as if he lived for my approval. It was such a nice change from my life with Brennan. He was so reserved. Even though I had been swept off my feet the first time I saw him playing polo, I’d never felt this comfortable around him. It even made me wonder if his obvious wealth had played some role in my feelings toward him. Growing up the daughter of a schoolteacher and a UPS deliveryman had left me wondering what it was like to live without any concerns about money. One thing I’d learned was, even with money you have a lot to worry about.
I was discovering that Marty was an educated, funny guy. He seemed to have made enough money but wasn’t consumed by it. His parents lived in Delray Beach, or as he said it, Everyone’s parents live in Delray Beach. And it sounded like Marty regretted not having any kids. I could relate, but that was the last thing on my mind now. I was too enthralled with this carefree relationship that seemed to revolve around enjoying life.
So when he picked me up early one evening in his slightly dinged twelve-year-old BMW, I was open to his idea to take a leisurely ride all the way down to South Beach, which was more than seventy-five miles away.
We were lucky and found a spot in front of Marjory Stoneman Douglas Park, so we walked down the boardwalk, holding hands the whole time. Unlike Palm Beach, this beach was busy with runners, sightseers, and bicyclists crowding the boardwalk. It was an entirely different vibe from home. Everyone here looked happy.
We ended up at a place called Prime 112 on Ocean Drive and munched on appetizers and sipped incredible wine. It was magical. We moved on to our meal and a wonderful bottle of wine paired to our fillets. If Dwyane Wade or Khloé Kardashian had walked through the tony restaurant, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
It was nice to see Marty enjoying himself and acting so relaxed, until our waiter, Diego, brought the bill. In my time with Brennan, I’d rarely had to worry about the cost of things. It was so different from how I’d grown up. When I saw the look on Marty’s face, I had to ask, “What’s wrong, babe?”
He showed me the bill, and I saw that it was something over a thousand bucks. For some reason the whole idea started to make me giggle. That in itself struck me as funny and I started to laugh out loud.
That got Marty laughing too. I don’t know what it is about a man who laughs easily, but there is almost nothing as attractive to me.
I reached for my purse, and he said, “No. No way. I was the one who dragged you down here and insisted on the most expensive wine.” Then he gave me that crazy smile and said, “You ready to play another game?”
“Anything you want.”
He pulled two hundred dollars out of his wallet, and when Diego walked by he held it up and said, “I want to make sure you get your tip in cash. No one likes to declare what they earned in tips.” Diego smiled and thanked us both, kissing my hand like the South American gentleman he was.
Then Marty said to me, “We’re going to make believe we left a card to cover our outrageously expensive meal. Is that okay with you?”
Maybe if he hadn’t tipped Diego, I would’ve been more hesitant. Instead, a tremor of excitement ran through me. “You don’t think we’ll get caught?”
“Diego got his tip, and he’s happy. We’ll be blocks away before he even realizes it.” Marty reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and slipped off his car key, leaving three keys on a ring on top of the bill. “That’ll make it look like we’re coming back.”
“Don’t you need your keys?”
“I’ve got extra keys, and it won’t cost me a grand to replace them.”
I got the idea that Marty had done stuff like this before.
We stood up from the table, and my heart was pounding. I wasn’t sure what the criminal charge would be, but I knew it had to be a felony. This was one thousand dollars we were walking away from. Marty looked casual and unconcerned as he gave me a wink and then reached out to take my hand. Slowly, we turned and looked along our path toward the front door. Shit. The manager stood there, chatting with a couple of the waiters, including Diego. Marty took one step that way while I held firm.
“That’s crazy. A suicide move,” I said in a low voice.
“It’s bold and dramatic.” He gave me a smile that somehow set me at ease.
I had a better idea. I pulled him back toward the table and around the partition that concealed the way toward the bathrooms. There was another door at the end of the hallway. It led to the little outdoor dining area, where one waitress, who appeared to be thirteen years old, was wandering around. Taking the right angle, with the right pace, we could step through the patio area and over the velvet rope and be only a few feet from freedom. The question was, would the manager and Diego figure out what was going on if they saw us?
We had to do something. I tugged on Marty’s hand and pulled him along the corridor. I turned to him and said, “Last chance to pay or use the bathroom. Do you want to do either?”
“Hell, no, I’m an outlaw. I’m with you all the way.”
I pushed open the door and was relieved to see there were only two couples on the patio. We wouldn’t have to awkwardly step past anyone. The waitress looked up and smiled, eager to have someone else in her section. I just shrugged like we’d walked through the wrong door and then turned quickly to my left, stepping over the rope that sealed off the area as Marty followed me. We took a few steps down the sidewalk and then heard a man’s voice shout.
“Wait!”
The manager had seen us.
My impulse was to freeze in place and come up with an excuse, like we were going out to get money from the car. But Marty took off at a sprint and I followed. The CrossFit classes came in handy as we shot north toward Second Street. Just as we turned the corner, I looked over my shoulder and saw the manager and Diego on the sidewalk coming after us.
I said, “We should probably get to the car. We can outrun them easily, but I doubt they’ll be happy about us walking out on the bill. They’ll have the cops down here looking for us in a few minutes.”
Before I
knew it, I’d lost any fear and was laughing as we trotted along the sidewalk toward the park, where the car was waiting for us.
I couldn’t believe how this guy had brought me out of my shell. I loved that he was so unpredictable and had an edge to him. I never would’ve thought a respected architect would act like a teenager and do something like dine and dash. This was the most excitement I’d experienced in a long time. Definitely since I’d been locked in this nasty divorce. I’d had no idea life could be this much fun again.
Chapter 5
We decided to take the long way back to Palm Beach and drove north on the oceanfront US Highway A1A, having to make several detours around inlets, but once we were back in Palm Beach County, it was a steady, comfortable ride with a cool ocean breeze in our faces. The night was beautiful, and Marty seemed to be opening up more and more.
For the first time since we’d met, he started to talk in detail about his divorce. I hadn’t wanted to pry, but I was curious. Every divorce has its own story, and it’s told by two different people, but in this case, I believed everything Marty said.
Marty changed his voice in an effort to imitate his ex-wife. It wasn’t like a comedian who just raises his pitch; Marty actually sounded like an annoyed woman. In his odd falsetto, he said, “Marty, I’m going to need an extra twelve hundred dollars for the trainer this month so I can learn how to properly work my arms. Marty, I’m going to New York this weekend to go shopping with my girlfriends, have you paid off the credit card from last month yet? Marty, why haven’t you designed any skyscrapers like John Nelson, a boy I grew up with whose second major building is going up in Seattle?”
All I could say to him was “I’m sorry, babe. It sounds like you’re better off without her. What happened to finally end it?”
He kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. “There’s really not much to tell. She fell for an AC contractor. You know how women love air-conditioning.” He let out a laugh. “Some tall, goofy guy from Boca Raton. I think he was originally from New Hampshire, and whatever he had, she wanted. The hell of it is, I like him. He’s a funny guy. And as much as I try to stay away from both of them, I hear different rumors. Most of them come from the contractors who use me as an architect. I heard he’s taking jobs up in Vero just so he can see her and keep his own wife in the dark.”
“He’s married?”
“Someone’s got to be doing the cheating. I read some stat that claimed fifty percent of married men cheat. That means they’ve got to be finding an equal number of women to cheat with.”
“Does that make it harder for you?”
“That she cheated on me? Yeah, it hurt. The fact that we had no kids made the divorce work its way through the system quickly. No-fault. That’s all I kept hearing. It’s a great idea until you realize your ex-wife gets nearly half of your earnings for the next eight years. It’s brutal. Now I live in a rented condo in downtown West Palm and work my ass off just to stay afloat.”
“I hope you realize you don’t have to spend money just to impress me.”
“I’m having a hard time spending enough money just to keep eating. I figured you were impressed with my sexual skills.” That sly smile of his made anything he said adorable.
I leaned across the seat and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then I couldn’t help but bite his earlobe.
Somehow I couldn’t resist asking, “What’s your ex-wife’s name?”
“Teal. I swear to God my ex-wife is named Teal.”
That made us both laugh.
Marty said, “She told me she’d always supported me emotionally when I was working. She said I only wanted her happy, in shape, and at home. Then, at the last court proceeding, she said, ‘Now I am happy, in shape, and at home, and you gotta pay for it awhile longer.’”
Marty took a moment to gather himself. “You know what else she told me?”
“No, what?”
“She told me I should meet someone, I’d feel better.” He took his eyes off the road to look at me. “You know what?”
“What?”
“She was right.” He had to pull the car to the narrow shoulder of the road in Highland Beach just to kiss me the way he wanted to.
Chapter 6
Once we were past the Lake Worth beach and still heading north on A1A, I told Marty to slow down just a little. I pointed out all the local landmarks I knew so well: the tennis courts at Phipps Park; the condos on Sloan’s Curve; and the big houses that sat just off the road, whose residents I named for Marty.
When we were north of the Bath and Tennis Club and clear of Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago, I had Marty park in one of the spots next to a tiny beach bungalow, more like a cabana, on the beach side of South Ocean. I knew there was no one inside. It was only used occasionally, and even then, just as a way to shower off after swimming in the ocean. I pointed across the street to a mansion that looked like it was surrounded by a golf course.
“See that castle over there? Twenty thousand, two hundred twenty-seven square feet. I’ve measured it. To the inch. That used to be my house. That’s where I lived and planned to stay the rest of my life. I loved that place. And my dick of a husband took it away.”
“I’ve heard about your husband. Everyone on the island knows Brennan Moore.”
“Don’t get me started on that guy.” Then, without meaning to, I launched into my own imitation. I tried to put on that irritating, fake accent, as if he had gone to Yale. “This just isn’t working out, Christy, dear. I think it’s best we go our separate ways.” Then I returned to my own voice, trying to keep the bitterness out of it without much success. “That was it. No emotion, no anger. Just his assessment of what was going on and how he intended to correct it. Of course he was bold, because he knew he had a prenup and could lock me out of most of his assets. Not to mention, he had the best attorneys, who I’m sure were ready for this for some time before he said anything to me.”
“How’s it make you feel now to look up at that house?”
“Angry. Really, really fucking angry.” I thought it was best if I didn’t go on. I wasn’t proud of this side of me. But the fact was, I didn’t deserve to be in this position. I was a good wife who’d never even thought about straying and always put Brennan’s interests first. I thought that was what couples did. That each wanted the other to be happier than them. Now I was in the real world and I knew that kind of thinking was some part of a fantasy life.
I barely responded when Marty slipped his arm around me to give me a supportive hug. All I could think of was the Italian marble I’d picked out and the true craftsman I’d hired to lay it, and the bamboo wallpaper that set off the study from the rest of the house. That place was mine, and it had been stolen from me.
Chapter 7
It was a short ride back to the Brazilian Court, and Marty was in an odd mood that I couldn’t decipher. He was quiet and perhaps sullen but clearly deep in thought. I hadn’t meant to upset him by showing him the house I used to live in. Maybe he was bothered by the fact that he couldn’t pay the dinner bill. All I really wanted to do was make him feel better. I wanted to see that smile. He had one of those smiles that was so sincere it was infectious. It was like a drug, and I needed a fix.
We had a glass of wine from a bottle I had been saving. Then he pulled out a little multicolored pill and said, “Should we try something really wild?”
“What is that? Is it dangerous?” My experience with drugs consisted of trying pot a couple of times in college and hearing stories about some of my friends using cocaine.
Marty said, “It’s a new version of Ecstasy that’s supposed to completely break down your inhibitions. It’s almost like it relieves you of responsibility for your actions. But it keeps you focused and sane. It might be just what we need to take a step further away from our divorces.”
I thought about it for a minute, considering what could go wrong. Then, without saying anything, I snatched the pill out of Marty’s hand and broke it in half. I didn’t wait or think
about it again as I popped my half of the pill into my mouth and took a big gulp of wine.
A smile spread across his face as he did the same thing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another pill as he said, “I have a few of them.”
Before long we were back on our favorite couch, making out. The music coming from my speaker system seemed to form colors in the room. It felt wild and natural at the same time.
The pill didn’t seem to affect my judgment, just my perception of sight, sound, and touch. The feeling of Marty’s hands across my neck and bare shoulders made me shudder with excitement. I could tell I was having the same effect on him when I slipped off his shirt and undid his belt.
That’s when there was a knock at the door. A tap at first, then a little louder, until it turned into a good, solid pounding that indicated it was an official visit and not just someone coming by to say hello.
Marty slipped his shirt back on as I stepped to the door and opened it a crack. Once again Allie was standing a few feet from the door with her hands on her hips like she was a schoolmarm about to deliver a lecture. Her long, dark hair was in a loose ponytail, and her pretty, tan face couldn’t hide her smile, despite her annoyance. This time I invited her in and introduced her to Marty.
Before she could say anything, I had a glass of wine in her hand. She sat down on one of the bamboo chairs that matched the couch and said, “I’m trying to head off trouble, Christy. I just got off duty and thought it was best if I came up to tell you we had another complaint about noise. Management is thinking about telling you to find another place to live. I’d hate to see that happen.”
Even as she spoke, I realized I was just focusing on the way her mouth moved. She was gorgeous. Even the dowdy hotel uniform couldn’t hide her curvy body. The combination of wine and Ecstasy had really done a number on me. I wish I could say I didn’t like it, but it was so new and exciting.
The Palm Beach Murders Page 2
