by Rayna Morgan
But has she ever considered me a catch herself?
• • •
Maddy arrived at the hotel in time to grab the last empty table. The bar stools were filled as well as the long couches in the middle of the lounge. The table she secured was barely big enough for two and pushed against the far wall, furthest from the bar and the buffet. It would be perfect to afford the privacy she needed to discuss murder, a conversation she didn't want to be overheard.
She put the posters across the chairs and advanced to the buffet table. As she had predicted, some hot food warmers were already empty, but there was more than enough for them. She filled Tom's plate to the brim knowing it could well be his dinner and only meal of the day.
When she returned to the table, the waiter took her order of a vodka tonic and Tom's favorite beer. "Do you want the two-for-one on each of those?”
“Absolutely." If Tom had to return to work, he might not drink the second beer but it would be there if he wanted it.
Looking idly around to spot any familiar faces, her thoughts drifted to Tom's earlier remark.
She and Tom had always enjoyed bantering with each other, sometimes with sexual overtones, but the relationship they had was one of deep friendship. Tom was the brother she and Lea never had. She wouldn't trade having a sister, especially one like Lea, for anything in the world. But being athletic, she would have liked a sibling to share sports with. Tom provided that element for her, and more.
She liked to think their friendship was mutually rewarding. When questioning a woman as part of a murder investigation, Tom's read was impeccable. But in personal matters where emotions got involved, Tom got as rattled as every other man trying to understand a woman. It was always Maddy he turned to for advice and sympathy.
She had to admit that on more than one of those occasions, she had fantasized herself in a relationship with him.
"Hey, Maddy, how’s my favorite girl?” She jumped, imagining he had entered her thoughts.
“Have you—“
The waiter placed two frothy cold beers in front of him. "Guess that answers my question. Thanks for ordering. This is exactly what I need right now."
He collapsed into the empty chair across from her.
Maddy regained her footing. "Besides my charming company?"
Tom grinned as he gulped down half a beer, licking the foam from his top lip. He pointed a finger at his raised mug. "It’s all the more satisfying for drinking it in your company."
"Smooth as always, Tom," she smiled.
Watching him dig into the plate of food in front of him, she decided to broach her subject. Her fingers closed around her drink, and she leaned closer.
"I'm not going to mince my words, Tom."
"Does that mean I was correct in thinking there was more to this meeting than posters? And you mincing your words," he grinned between mouthfuls, "would be a first."
Ignoring the sarcasm, she forged ahead. "Lea and I have information we feel you should have. I'm the one delivering it because Lea's worried Paul will be upset if he finds out we've been poking around in your investigation.”
"He'd have good reason to be angry. And I hope you're not going to tell me that's what you've been doing."
Maddy knew Tom's words were merely a formality. He wasn't upset with her; he was only verbalizing what his friend would say if he were here. She rested her chin on her palm. "You know you can't resist getting information related to your case, especially from reliable sources like my sister and me."
Having emptied his plate, Tom leaned back to savor his second beer. "You realize I could have you arrested for obstruction of justice if you don't give me the information?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" She curled a strand of hair around her finger. Her mouth curved into a seductive smile.
"Okay, Super-sleuth. Let's hear what you've got."
"Neal had a visitor to his office late the night before his murder."
Tom's eyebrows furrowed as he sat straighter. "Interesting. Where did you get that information?"
"I can't reveal our source but—”
"Maddy." Tom's voice was firm in a way she couldn't ignore.
"Okay, okay. But real detectives never reveal the source of their information."
"You've got detectives confused with newspaper people. Now, unless you want to get in a world of trouble with me—"
"I got it. Our source is Neal's stepmother. She told us Neal and his father were in the middle of a somewhat troubling phone conversation when it happened. Neal was still at his office when he called. According to Liz, it was almost eleven o'clock."
"What was Neal calling about at that late hour?"
"Apparently, something to do with work. Harold was asking his son how he could help when Neal said someone was coming into his office. He told his father to disregard the call; he wouldn't need help after all."
"Did Harold follow up with Neal the next day?"
"He tried, but Neal didn't return his calls until around dinnertime. Told his father not to worry. Everything was fine, and he was on his way out for the night. It's the last they heard of Neal until they were told he'd been murdered."
"Did Harold have any idea who interrupted their conversation?"
"No. Harold knew so little of Neal's business; he wouldn't have known what meeting Neal had. Considering the time of night it occurred, it may have been a personal matter, but Liz wasn't aware of anyone Neal had become involved with since breaking off his engagement."
"How did you and Lea happen to be talking with Liz anyway?" The look he gave her would wither any suspect in his interrogation room at the precinct.
"She happened to come into the furniture store to see a new shipment of dining room pieces.”
"Happened to come in?“
"After I called her."
"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" The barely visible crow’s feet around Tom's eyes became more pronounced, a sure sign he was not pleased.
"In case you forget, I was a little tied up, literally."
Images of Maddy trussed with duct tape and thrown in the back of the pickup truck came to mind. "By the way, have you heard any more from the cowboy who saved your hide?"
"Nope." Maddy flirted to get back in his good graces. "Any particular reason for asking?"
"Just trying to keep you from getting hurt."
"Am I missing something here? That cowboy, whose name you very well know is Scott, kept me from being hurt."
"And as you very well know, Maddy, there are different ways of getting hurt."
"Since when have you become my guardian angel?" she asked, giving him a lopsided grin.
Tom winked. "There could never be enough hours in my day to keep you out of harm's way, physically or emotionally.
“But I saw the way you looked at the cowboy. Like a damsel in distress being rescued by a white knight. Remember, you were both in a highly charged emotional situation."
He leaned forward. "Real life isn't like a fairy tale, Maddy. Relationships are complicated. I'm not sure a man who experienced the heartbreak he went through with his wife's death is the right person for you to get involved with."
"I think you're reading too much into it."
"I doubt it. What makes me so good at my job is that I'm always observant. I pay attention to the smallest details. It's what enables me to draw conclusions others miss. I don't mind telling you, most of the time, those conclusions are correct.
“I noticed the man’s eyes and body language when he was around you. He's interested, Maddy."
He experienced an odd sense of disappointment when he saw her eyes light up hearing about Scott's reaction to her.
"You know I haven't had any interest in dating since that scuzzball Eric cheated on me and ended my visions of a once and forever relationship."
"It's been five years. Maybe it's time for you to try to find that kind of relationship again if that's what you're looking for. I'm just not sure this is the guy who can give it to you.
"
"Who else would you suggest?"
Tom's stomach plunged. His pulse raced. He looked deep into her eyes. "I don't know anyone I think is good enough for you."
Maddy tossed her long hair, feigning nonchalance. "What a flattering response, Tom, but it's a cop-out. I guess we'll just have to see where things lead."
Her voice was cold as she stood and handed him the posters. "Thanks again for your help."
"Thanks for the drinks and your tip about Neal's visitor. Will you keep me informed if you and your sister find out anything else?"
"No problem, Detective." Maddy walked out, her fiery beauty drawing the attention of every man in the room.
Tom finished his beer, deep in deliberation. Am I adding fuel to Maddy's fire by allowing her to become further involved in the murder case? Or is it a personal fire I just added fuel to?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lea was scanning the wall directory in the foyer of the City Hall building.
"What are you doing here? Official business or slumming?" a familiar voice asked.
She spun around. "Hey, Tom. Good morning."
She placed a hand on his arm in greeting. "The City is undertaking a public relations campaign to increase tourism. As a famous historical landmark, City Hall itself will be portrayed as one of the major tourist attractions. I'm one of three people asked to submit a bid on the project which will include creating brochures and other promotional material."
"Good for you. That should be an interesting assignment."
"Yes, I really hope I'm awarded the contract. I've got a lot of good ideas. I'm anxious to get started."
It was her turn to question Tom. "I know you're not slumming, but surely you're not here about the murder?"
"Not specifically, but there may be a connection." Tom took Lea's elbow, steering her out of the way of people trying to see the directory. "Neal was always able to tell his ring of burglars the best construction sites to hit. I think he may have had inside knowledge about where to send them."
"Who at City Hall would have that kind of information?"
"Anyone in the Planning Department. Applications for building permits include descriptions of the project, size, and timing of construction. With the right information, Neal could have determined what materials and equipment were on site. It would have taken the guesswork out of deciding which projects to hit to reap the biggest jackpots.
According to Ken Crosby, Don Carson had turned over all the work he did with City Hall to Neal. Neal would have frequent contact with people in the Planning Department. He may have persuaded someone there to pass on information he needed. For a price, I'm sure."
"I can't imagine anyone who works for the City doing such a thing."
"Most people have a price, Lea."
"You're getting too cynical, Tom. You sound like my sister. She's become a lot more skeptical and suspicious since she was cheated on.
“Which reminds me; when I talked to her this morning, I suggested the four of us have drinks tonight at the Shack. She said she'd be busy. When I asked her plans, she admitted she didn't have any but insisted she'd be busy anyway. Sounds like she doesn't want to see you. You two have a difference of opinion, again?"
It wasn't unusual for Maddy and Tom, both strong-willed and opinionated, to experience frequent issues of contention. It sometimes presented a fractious dynamic to the relationship, similar to the way brothers and sisters spar.
"I met her for drinks last night so she could give me the news about Neal's late night office visitor. Thanks for that, by the way."
He noticed the look of concern in Lea's expression. "Don't worry; I won't divulge the source of my information to Paul."
"Thanks, Tom. You know how overly protective Paul can be," she said, smiling weakly.
"Have you ever considered that with you and your sister, there's reason for concern?"
"If that's the kind of thing you said to Maddy last night, I can see why she doesn't want to see you," Lea laughed, moving toward the elevator. "Gotta run. Talk to you later."
• • •
Lea's appointment was with Councilwoman Margaret Patton. As a Board member of the Buena Viaje Visitors and Convention Bureau, she was the point person representing the City whom Lea would be dealing with if she won the bid.
Lea made it a practice to familiarize herself with potential clients as part of the process of preparing a proposal. To beat her competition, she felt she not only had to have the best product at the most reasonable price but she needed to present her proposal in a way that best resonated with the person receiving the bid. Even before entering the Councilwoman's office, Lea's research gave her the advantage of feeling like she knew this woman.
Mrs. Patton had grown up in Chicago where her father worked for the Federal government. Her parents divorced when she was five years old, and her father moved to Washington. Her mother continued to work as a secretary in the government office where her parents had met. Even though her father paid support, they struggled financially and never had the financial freedom Margaret longed for. She envied her friends from wealthy families who were given cars in high school and bought all the beautiful clothes they wanted.
Margaret hated the cold winters and the hot summers of the Midwest. The day after her high school graduation she moved to California to live with an aunt in Los Angeles. She paid her own way through the local junior college and the state university by working for a catering company. She went from being on the wait staff to the position of Catering Manager through determination and hard work.
It was at an event her employer catered for a movie producer where she met her husband, a prominent actor more than twice her age. They married and had two children. When he retired from films, they built a large home in the hills outside Buena Viaje. She had been elected to the City Council three years ago and was known for her involvement in community events.
From her reputation, Lea anticipated a woman who was intelligent, independent, and assertive. Good with the public, on one hand, she was also considered to be strong-willed, resolute, and determined. Detractors described her as ruthless and calculating. They held the view there were no wasted actions on the part of Mrs. Patton. Everything she did was done for a reason and to her benefit.
Perhaps her ambition comes from her history of not having all she wanted in her younger years. From outward appearances, she has it all now, but people who overcome deprivation in childhood often harbor a subconscious fear of returning to the same condition.
• • •
"I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to bid on this project, Mrs. Patton."
"Call me Margaret, please," the woman responded cordially. She sat erect behind an enormous mahogany desk that seemed excessive for a lady of her diminutive stature.
Especially since there are no files, not even a single sheet of paper on the desk. Only a laptop computer. Either she's compulsively neat, or this is a room where she holds meetings but does little work.
Impeccably dressed, makeup expertly applied, hair styled in the latest fashion and nails manicured, the woman across from her made Lea feel uncomfortably lacking in the elegance department.
"You do understand at least two other individuals or firms are bidding on the project,” she said, her fingers drumming lightly but continuously on the top of the desk.
Nodding, Lea asked for clarification on one point before proceeding. "I know the last event in which the City was represented was the Protect Our Marine Life charity event at the Fairgrounds. I'm familiar with the firm who prepared the presentation for you. From my understanding, the slide show they presented on behalf of the City was well received. May I ask why you aren't using them again?"
"It’s true the press gave good reviews of the City's presentation. Everyone at my table at the event made favorable comments. Of course, I don't know how grand an endorsement that was," she added, shrugging her shoulders. "The Mayor and the Planning Director were into their third cocktail by
the time the City's slide show was presented."
Margaret threw the next comment off as an aside, but Lea's ears perked up. "Neal and I were the only ones who paid much attention."
"Neal Henderson?"
"Yes, Neal was there representing Don Carson's company. I'm sure you're familiar with the County's largest developer?" she asked in a manner Lea felt was slightly condescending.
"I didn't realize City officials and developers socialize."
"The Mayor always sits at the front table. Charles White, the Planning Director, was there as the Mayor's guest. I wasn't there as a City Council member although the press reported it that way. I was seated there because of the size of the donation my husband and I made to the charity. Neal, Mr. Henderson, was at the table on behalf of Don Carson who has always made a sizable contribution."
Lea's intuition was on high alert to discover more about Margaret Patton's relationship with Neal Henderson. She hoped her next question wouldn't sound too obvious. "How generous of you and Mr. Patton. What did your husband think of the presentation?"
"Oh, Art wasn't there. He hates fundraisers. It doesn't stop us from contributing to almost every one of them. The only one he actually attends is the annual event to raise money for the local theatre. Other than that, he writes the check, and I make a personal appearance. I've had more of those dinners than I care to remember."
Lea attempted again to get Margaret to talk about Neal. "Speaking of Mr. Henderson, what a tragic—"
She was cut short by Margaret. "Yes, it was, but we've drifted off topic."
The Councilwoman clenched her hands in front of her and leaned forwarded. "In answer to your question, yes, we were pleased with the work done for us on that project. Nevertheless, we're required to receive bids for every project paid for with City funds. Let me make it clear. We're not obliged to award the contract to the lowest bid we receive, but we do have a budget to comply with. I outlined the terms including the maximum amount of funding available for this project in the letter I sent requesting bids."
"Of course." Lea could sense pursuing further questioning was ill-advised. Besides, she was not given the opportunity.
