by F J messina
“Trust me. We’ll do this by the book, and at this point in my career, I could have written the book.” He had lowered his chin and was marking on his calendar. No room for discussion here.
Sonia averted her eyes. Well, we are pretty self-assured, aren’t we?
Then Brad paused as if he were re-thinking his last statement. He put down his marker and looked directly up at Sonia. “I’m sorry. I know this is not as routine for you as it is for me. This is what I did for all those years. Trust me, I do know how it’s done properly, and we’ll be extra cautious. Is that okay?”
Sonia’s heart leapt a tiny bit again. She could hear the concern in his voice. This was Dunny speaking. And she was quite certain that it wasn’t often that Dunny would have made an appearance in this type of planning session. She was becoming convinced that somewhere under the façade of Captain Brad Dunham, ex-Marine, ex-NCIS, Dunny might be starting to have feelings for her.
Sonia looked up at him. “Yes, I’ll be ready.” Yes, sir. I’ll be ready, sir.
Brad’s attention turned back to some other paperwork on his desk. Sonia cleared her throat. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to my office. I’ve got to clear some things from Friday and,” she shuddered, “all of next week.” She stood.
Brad put his hands on the arms of his chair as if to rise.
“No need.” Sonia gestured for him to remain seated. “I can find my way out. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yes, later.” Brad nodded and returned to the work on his desk.
As Sonia reached the door, her iPhone emitted its silly Star-Spangled Banner. Frustrated at not having had time to change the ringtone, she shook her head. “Hello?” she said as she closed the door behind her.
27
Sonia? This is Johnny Adams. Am I calling at a bad time?”
“No, not at all.” Sonia struggled to shift gears. She walked out of the white house and down the steps onto the sidewalk. “I just finished a meeting with . . . I’m just walking out of a meeting. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about last night. Are you okay?”
A flash of the sensations from the evening before coursed through her body. “Sure, sure. I’m okay. Maybe a little under the weather from too much wine, but I’m fine.” She was at the corner now and waiting for the light to change.
“Good, I’m glad. I know things got a little intense last night. It’s just that, well, I hope I didn’t —”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re cool. Everything is okay. Things did get, like you said, a little intense though. I just needed to back away for a bit. But don’t worry, we’re okay.” It suddenly struck Sonia that this sounded like a conversation between a couple in a long-standing relationship; when, in fact, they had only gone out for the first time the night before.
“I’m so glad to hear it. I didn’t mean to, well, you know, come on so strong.”
“No, don’t worry about it. Like I said. It was my fault for drinking so much wine. I should’ve known better. Not to worry.”
Sonia crossed the street and headed for her office. Oh, my gosh. Now I’m apologizing to him. He really didn’t do anything wrong last night . . . but neither did I. Why the heck am I apologizing?
“. . . so glad we’re okay, because I really did have a great time with you. I was wondering if maybe we could catch a light dinner somewhere tonight. You know, after you get off work?”
Alarm bells went off in Sonia’s brain. He had wanted to kiss her. She had wanted to kiss him. They’d kissed, passionately. Both their bodies had responded. Hers with a passion she felt all over her body, all through her body, his in the way any man would when being passionately kissed by a beautiful woman. Still, Sonia knew she wasn’t ready to face that temptation again.
“Thanks so much, but I’ve got a whole bunch of things to do before tomorrow. And, in fact, I’m still beat from not getting any sleep last night. Some other time, okay?”
Johnny’s polite upbringing came through. “Okay. How about tomorrow morning?” There was a chuckle in his voice. “That’s some other time. What do you say I just meet you at Magee’s for coffee and one of your favorite pastries?”
“I don’t know, Johnny.” Geez, can’t he just let this go?
“Come on, Sonia. I just want to spend some time with you. Over coffee. It’s no big deal.”
Sonia hesitated. “Okay, but just for coffee. I’ve got a lot of things on my plate, and I’ve got so much I’ve got to accomplish tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure. Just for coffee. What time is good for you?”
“Uhm, let’s say ten o’clock. Ten o’clock at Magee’s.”
“Yeah. That’ll be great. I’ll see you at Magee’s at ten. Okay, then, until tomorrow. Bye.”
Sonia hung up her phone. What the heck is it with this guy? Is he really that eager to spend time with me? Is he up to something? Or is he just a really nice guy who’s a bit lame when it comes to dealing with women?
Sonia had reached the bottom of the steps that led up to her office. She looked up the long flight of stairs. She blew that wisp of hair out of her face. And what the heck is it with me? Am I attracted to this guy or not? Last night I almost gave him a tonsillectomy. And if it hadn’t been for the images of my father, I probably would have brought him into my apartment and jumped his bones. Gosh, Sonia. Are you hot for him? Are you hot for Brad? Or are you just so freakin’ horny you’re hot for anything with pants on?
Sonia started the long walk up. When she got to the top, before she stepped inside, she looked out over her little part of town. I really like this place. I really like my life here. Now let’s hope I don’t screw it up again. Then she turned the tarnished knob and stepped into the offices of Bluegrass Confidential Investigations.
At ten o’clock the next morning, Sonia, her blue jeans tucked into tall boots, her red cowl-neck sweater draping softly, waited for Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams to buy her coffee. She had gotten there about ten minutes early, in order to be sure to get her favorite seat in the corner. The smells in the place were, as always, unbelievably delicious.
Still, as Sonia waited for Johnny, his words from yesterday afternoon kept running through her brain. “One of your favorite pastries,” he had said. “. . . meet you at Magee’s for coffee and one of your favorite pastries.”
That had gotten Sonia thinking. I love the almond croissants here. In fact, everything’s so good: the pecan Danish, the cherry-cheese Danish, the sticky buns. But Sonia had grown up in an Italian family, surrounded by wonderful Italian foods. For her, her favorite pastries had to be the special treats of her youth. Sonia smiled. Good Italian cannoli, with that sweet, creamy, ricotta filling. Or a sfogliatella, with those crunchy layers. Ah, there’s nowhere in this town you can get those things. How long has it been since I’ve had good cannoli?
Sonia was so lost in thoughts of the pastries that still made her mouth water, that she hadn’t even noticed Johnny come in and walk right over to her table.
“Can I get you a coffee and a croissant?”
Sonia looked up. “Oh. Good morning.” Dang. Tailored blue suit, white shirt, the perfect red tie. Perfect. “Just coffee, please.” Somehow, the sheer thought of the pastries of her childhood had taken away her desire for anything Magee’s actually offered that morning.
Eventually, Johnny came back with two coffees and a chocolate-covered donut.
How very American. That’s it. He’s so very American. Good looking, chiseled chin, gray eyes, light brown hair. He’s tall and thin, and well-built. Yes, he’s the All-American boy alright.
“Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat. A bran muffin or something?”
All-American. She smiled and said, “No, thanks.”
“So, how’s your morning been?” Johnny asked as he took a seat across from her.
“Well, I managed to get in a good three-mile run, eat some toast, and get here on time. Not bad I would say, not bad. And yourself?”
“Honestly, I got called in to help with a domestic disturbance thing that was getting out of hand last night, so I was at work really late. I’m just now getting started on the day.”
They sat in silence for a while, sipping coffee. Sonia looked him over discreetly. What is it about this guy? He’s as nice as they come, bright, good-looking, and I really could jump his bones sometimes. What’s holding me back here?
Johnny looked up as if he were going to say something, but then he didn’t. He just finished his donut.
Sonia watched him lick what was left of the chocolate off his fingertips. Maybe, I shouldn’t be holding back. Maybe I should be pushing this thing forward, just to see what that would be like. At that moment, however, Brad Dunham’s bright blue eyes flashed across her mind.
“So, what’s got you so busy lately?” Johnny asked.
“Oh, lots of little things.”
“Like what? Anything a local police officer can help with? Or, perhaps, anything a local police officer shouldn’t know about?” He smiled a conspiratorial smile.
She pursed her lips for just the briefest moment. And there it is. I just don’t know if it’s me he’s interested in or the Hensley case.
She told Johnny about the Bob Dylan case. She told him about the Clay McCormick case, although he had heard about that down at the precinct already. She mentioned a few other cases that Jet was handling on her own. Then she turned the conversation back on him, “So what’s been keeping you busy, Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams?”
She was about to ask, ‘Anything new on the John Hensley case?’ but she caught herself just in time. The case was officially closed, and she didn’t need to raise any suspicions by implying that it wasn’t. Sonia smiled at him. I just don’t know if I can trust him.
Johnny was equally noncommittal. He told her about the domestic disturbance case he’d been called in on. He mentioned a shooting that had occurred down in Richmond, Kentucky, one that might have a Lexington connection. There was no mention of John Abbott Hensley, Dahlia Farm, or anything else Sonia would have found very interesting.
At ten forty Sonia stood up. “Well, thanks for the coffee. It’s really nice to see you again, but it’s Thursday and I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Thursday?”
“Bob Dylan day, as we call it at BCI. I’ll be interested to see what Jet has planned for this evening.”
Johnny let a beat go by. “So, when can I see you again?”
“Soon, Johnny. I’d love to see you again soon, but I may be going out of town for a while. We’ll just have to see.”
“Going away? Where?” Johnny tried to look nonchalant, but the pupils in his eyes belied him. It was obvious to Sonia that he was taking a very special interest in the fact that she might be going away.
Sonia started to panic inwardly. She should never have mentioned that she might be leaving town. Scrambling, she came up with the best story she could at the moment. “Oh, a couple of girls I went to college with got in touch with me and said they wanted to get together for a long weekend.” Her brain still scrambling, Sonia tried to think about which direction was the total opposite of where she and Brad might be going. After just the tiniest pause, one she hoped Johnny hadn’t noticed, she said, “Atlanta. I think they’re talking about going to Atlanta.”
“You don’t know? It’s Thursday, and you don’t know yet where you’re going this weekend?” He sounded incredulous. This was, after all, a pretty lame story; and he was, after all, a professional detective.
Sonia ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, the girl in charge likes to surprise us. She just calls at the last minute and tells us where to go.” Sonia felt the whole conversation slipping out of control.
Johnny spoke softly and slowly. “Oh, I see. Still, it must make it tough to pack, not knowing where you’re going and all.” His voice was just short of accusatory.
“Well, yeah, but it’s always the same thing. Bring your bathing suit, one nice outfit, jeans, and tops. That almost always works.” Sonia adjusted the sleeve of her sweater. Slipping. It just keeps slipping further and further out of control. “Listen, I’ve got to run. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be in touch.”
Sonia retreated to the door. Within a moment she was out of the bakery, headed for those blessed steps, the ones that would put some distance between her and Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams. A few moments later, she reached the sanctuary of her office. She sat down in her desk chair, swiveled around, and looked out the window. She could see Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams walking across the street toward his parked cruiser─parked in the lot right next to the white house. “Dang, dang, dang.”
28
Sonia had been at her desk only a few minutes when the office door opened again and Jet walked into the BCI waiting area. The look on Jet’s face and the wiggle in her walk told Sonia that Jet was in one very fine mood.
Jet strode directly into Sonia’s office and stood in front of Sonia’s desk where she struck a pose. She stood tall, thrusting out her chest and putting her hands on her hips. Then, looking off into the distance, she said with great pride, “Today, my dear, is going to be a great day.”
Sonia was usually good at placing Jet’s accents, but the voice today evoked no particular character. What the? What’s with the accent?
Jet continued. “Yes, today is the day that dastardly Robert “Bob” Dylan meets his demise. Oh, yes, Oh, yes. Hear ye, hear ye. Today is the day Robert “Bob” Dylan goes down in flames.”
Sonia bobbed her head in recognition. Sounds like we’re at the Salem Witch Trials or something.
Jet leaned down, only inches from Sonia’s face, her energy suddenly erupting. “Think ye not of the wench who will lose her illicit lover, if lover be the proper term.” Her voice was airy, full of venom. She slapped Sonia’s desk. “No, think ye of the pure and untarnished damsel who has waited, lo these many months, for the acquittal of her suspicions. The damsel who shall, henceforth, dispense the most dreadful and demeaning punishments on this sorry excuse for a husband.” Jet straightened and looked over Sonia’s shoulder, out the window onto East Main, as if a crowd of imaginary commoners waited for the final words of her address from on high.
Sonia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “So, you’ve got a plan, I take it?”
Slowly turning back to Sonia, Jet spoke in relaxed, yet cryptic tones. “I do. I do indeed, fair damsel, and a fine plan it is.”
Sonia let out a sigh. “We’re sounding a little Elizabethan today, aren’t we?” She took a quick breath. “And would you like to inform this poor peasant as to what that plan is?”
“Nay.” Jet leaned forward aggressively and placed her hands on Sonia’s desk again. She looked right into Sonia’s eyes. “Your role, fair maiden, shall only be disclosed to you mere moments before you are called upon this evening.”
Sonia couldn’t help it. Jet was so close. She drew back.
Jet stood straight again and walked to the window. She spoke softly, her words reflecting off the glass and back at Sonia. “Only as the clock strikes eight shall ye know exactly when and where the dagger shall strike.”
After a moment, Jet turned quickly and walked to Sonia’s door, stopping only to say, “I’ll be in my office blending some tongue of frog with eye of newt.” Then she was gone.
It was only ten-fifty in the morning, and already it had been one hell of a day. Sonia shook her head and looked for the coffee she wished she had brought from Magee’s. Lord knows what she’s up to now, and whatever it is, I’m going to be up to my neck in it. Shaking off the thought of tonight’s adventure, Sonia turned her attention to making some notes about the communications system she and Brad had been pouring over yesterday afternoon.
A little while later, Jet knocked on the glass between their offices and motioned to Sonia to come join her. By the time Sonia got into Jet’s office, Jet was back in front of her computer looking at the images from Clay McCormick’s restaurant, her face twisted in frustration.
“I just don’t get it. I’ve been recording out there for a week now, and the thefts keep happening. At first, they stopped, but now they’ve started again. Smaller amounts, but stuff is still disappearing.”
Sonia moved in and looked at the footage over Jet’s shoulder, although there was nothing to be learned from a quick glance. “Have you been tracking all the comings and goings? Who goes in when? Who leaves?”
Jet’s eyes were still on the screen. “Of course. Each time someone enters, I write down the time they go in, and then when they leave I get that as well. Still, I haven’t found any pattern of somebody going in, something disappearing, and that same person leaving. Here,” Jet said, handing Sonia a yellow pad. “Here are my logs.”
Sonia flipped through the pages but glanced occasionally at the screen. “Run that back just a bit. Who’s that?”
“Oh, that’s McCormick’s son, Ralph.” Both their eyes were on the screen.
“Is he here in your notes?”
“Of course. I think he went inside yesterday sometime around 9:20 AM, which is kind of early. I guess he has to set up some things for the other employees.”
“And when did he come out?”
“I don’t know. Check the log.”
Sonia scanned the logs for Wednesday, April 6. “It doesn’t say.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t say? I log everyone coming in, everyone coming out.”
Sonia pointed to a notation at the top of the page with her Cross pen. “No, see, here. You logged him in at 9:18 AM,” she ran her finger down the page, “but you never logged him out.”
“That can’t be, I’ve been sitting here for hours watching these damn tapes. Some human walks in that door, I log it. Some human walks out that door, I log it.”
Sonia grabbed the extra wooden chair in the office and pulled it next to Jet’s. “Let’s go back. Does Ralph work every day?”
“Yeah, sure, he has to. It’s the family business.”
“Okay, what does your log say for him Tuesday?”
