by Evie Nichole
“I guess it took a toll on him after his wife went missing.”
Betty hesitated, causing Selene to perk her ears. She didn’t know if Betty was “gossipy” help, but she was certainly sniffing the bait.
“Yes. Things had been…strained…even before that.”
Play it cool. Don’t push too hard this time.
“Yeah. That’s what he said.”
Selene was disappointed as the butler, Robert entered the kitchen. His light brown eyes regarded her coolly. He wasn’t a bad looking man; he certainly wasn’t much older than Barkley, but he had an air of superiority. He was the servant, yet he seemed to be the snob.
“Mr. Bailey would like dinner served at seven.”
Betty slapped her dishtowel against the sink, her pale skin blotching. “Yes, Robert, I’m aware.”
Robert raised an eyebrow at his co-worker, but chose to say nothing in return. He moved through the kitchen, randomly sliding a finger over various surfaces, raising the tip to the light to inspect it for dust or grime. Betty watched his movements with a mix of anger and apprehension on her face.
Robert hesitated beside the bay window of the breakfast nook. The daylight was waning, and he ran his finger over the windowsill twice. The look of satisfaction was sickeningly obvious.
“Wipe the window sill over here, dear. It’s a bit dusty.” He left, straight backed with head held high.
“That man…,” Betty whispered.
“You guys don’t get along I take it?”
“He’s had a chip on his shoulder and a stick up his butt since…well, for a while now.”
Selene’s brows drew together. Since when? It was too early to push that far, and much to her chagrin, she had to let the topic drop. She hoped Betty would offer information, but Barkley himself was the culprit for the next interruption.
“Ah, Betty, it smells delicious already!”
She was obviously pleased with the attention, but countered him with a reprimand anyway. “The pie is barely warm yet! You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll serve rolls with dinner.”
He kissed her cheek. “Would you?”
Betty laughed in spite of herself and pushed him away with a blush staining her round cheeks.
Selene watched the warmth between them and wondered why he wasn’t close like that with his mother. Her demeanor should have made it obvious, but Betty and Barkley seemed more like mother and son than employee and employer.
“Want a drink before dinner?”
“Sure.”
Selene followed Barkley into what she now mentally referred to as “the rec room.” He had a voiceless ambient kind of music playing through the Hi-Fi. She took a seat at the bar and awaited the concoction he would make.
“Any requests?”
“Surprise me.” Selene felt an uneasy realization with how comfortable she felt around Barkley. He had been a suspect in his own wife’s disappearance. She had to keep that in mind. He had to remain a suspect for her; he still was for her client after all. Yet all she saw in Barkley was a kind man who was lonely.
Barkley stirred two pale liquids together, ice clinking furiously against the sides of the glass. He pushed it towards her and her first sip was a mixture of tart and sweet.
“This is delicious. What is it?”
“It’s a Tom Collins. Well, not an actual one. I used Collins mix.”
“Fine with me.”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Barkley moved from behind the bar and retrieved the small bag he been holding when he came back to her at the market. “This is for you.”
Selene opened the bag and pulled the wispy scarf out that she had been eyeing at the market. It was a blend of light and dark pinks with hunter green and cream. She smiled up at him.
“Thank you! It’s beautiful, but you really didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. I know it’s not the colors you listed, but I think it would look stunning on you.” His eyes stayed on her as he gently took the scarf and wound it loosely around her neck. At first she felt foolish, considering that she was dressed in a t-shirt and plain black jeans, but the way Barkley looked at her as the soft material touched her neck, she suddenly did feel beautiful. Heat was creeping up her neck, and she needed to get his attention on something other than herself.
She moved away from him and took a seat on the couch. “I think there is some animosity between your cook and butler.”
Barkley sighed, sitting beside her. “Yes. I wish I knew what caused it.”
“When did it start?”
“About a year ago, maybe a little less. They used to get along swimmingly; then all of a sudden it became like the arctic between them.”
“Robert does seem a bit stiff.”
Barkley laughed. “He puts that air on for others. He’s really not like that. Sarah liked him better than any other person I employ.”
Note taken. “I would have thought it would have been Betty.”
“I think she felt threatened by her.”
Selene choked on her drink. “Threatened by that sweet woman? Why?”
Barkley shrugged. “I don’t know. She was very critical of Betty. I mean, Sarah could burn water. Maybe that had something to do with it, since Betty is such a fabulous cook.”
“Does she take care of anything else here?”
“She used to.” He looked at her with a new light in his eyes. “You know, it’s funny you mention that. She used to do most of the house cleaning too, her and another woman who only comes in once a week. She was one of the ladies here earlier, but about the time she and Robert became cool towards each other was when he suggested that Betty’s main responsibilities be in the kitchen only.”
Selene frowned deeply. “That’s odd. Did he say why?”
“No. Not really. He just said that her housekeeping skills were no longer up to par.” Barkley ran a hand down the side of his face. “I take her with me to my other homes often. She doesn’t have family of her own, and I think she needs a break from this house sometimes.”
“That’s kind of you.”
Barkley didn’t respond, lifting his own glass to his lips.
“My goodness what a lovely scarf.” Ruth Bailey said as she glided into the room.
“Good evening, Mother,” Barkley said quietly, but didn’t rise this time to greet her with a shallow brush of his lips to her cheek.
“Where did you find such a nice piece?”
“Barkley took me to the open air market on Brewster Street.”
“Yes, Mother, you should peruse there sometime. You might get a kick out of it.”
“Doubtful,” she said with distaste.
Selene hid a smirk within her drink.
“Barkley?” Betty stuck her head in the room. “Where do you prefer to have dinner tonight?”
“Let’s just eat in the breakfast nook. There’s no need to go to all the trouble of the formal dining room.”
Betty nodded once and disappeared again.
Ruth ran a slender hand down one thigh before crossing the leg over the other.
Barkley looked at her darkly. “What, Mother? I know you want to say something.”
“I just thought with a guest you would want to make this…nicer.”
Selene felt an argument brewing and placed her empty tumbler on the coffee table before standing.
“Please excuse me. I’m going to the restroom.”
Barkley stood as she walked away.
“Of course,” Ruth said quietly.
Selene wanted them to get past whatever was going on between them and washed her hands twice, taking time to admire her reflection, touching the scarf lightly with two fingers. Eric’s face unwelcomely flashed through her mind. Once he had slipped something on her finger which had made her feel beautiful. Wanted. Desired. Funny how people changed. Or how they lie.
When she felt like enough time had passed, Selene forced Eric from her mind and went to the open doors of the recreation room, (or whatever they
called it), but stopped short as she heard Barkley’s voice raise to a higher pitch.
“What do you want me to say, Mother? I like her!”
“You could do a hundred times better.”
“Why because she’s not rich?”
Ruth’s voice raised to match her son’s. “Because she’s not rich and she’s a stripper!” She sighed in exasperation. “My goodness, but you’re like your father!”
“Wrong.” Barkley’s voice had become dangerously soft. “I don’t chase after boy toys.”
The sound of open palm connecting with face made Selene jump. This mother and son relationship was more dysfunctional than she originally suspected. She didn’t know if she should go back in or simply see herself to her car. Unfortunately, she realized that her purse with her car keys inside were in the same room with them. A lie was what it was going to take. It was just that simple.
Selene took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before entering the room. Ruth backed away from her son, taking her seat once again. Barkley’s face was red hot, his mother’s palm print clearly visible along his jaw and cheek.
Selene laid a hand to her forehead. “You know, I think the day has taken a toll on me.” She moved to her purse, placing the double straps firmly on her shoulder. “Please, tell Betty I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m actually up for dinner.”
Barkley took a step towards her. Selene glanced at Ruth. The woman’s smug expression was almost enough to make her stay.
“Please,” Barkley began. “You might feel better. Is it your stomach? I can see what we have…” He allowed his words to trail off, his eyes belying the fact that he could see right through her. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down quickly. “Let me at least walk you out.”
Barkley didn’t speak until they were beside Selene’s car. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth between the ball and heels of his feet.
“I guess you overheard.”
Selene nodded once, torn between wanting to know more and feeling sorry for him, yet again.
“Gisele, I shouldn’t have brought that up to her…it was my fault.” His hands flew up and splayed across his chest to bring emphasis to his words.
Selene looked up at him, her brow creased. “He’s your father, and she’s your mother. You can’t talk about what’s happening within your own family? Maybe your execution was poor, but…”
“She pretends it isn’t happening. She pretends…and expects everyone else to also.”
Selene shook her head. “I just don’t understand.”
“Will you consider staying?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “No, I don’t think so this time.”
Barkley lowered himself to her eye level, a sad smile playing on his lips. “So, there will be a next time? Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know…”
“Look, I’ll send Mother home. We can relax here. Do you like football? The first regular season games start tomorrow.”
Selene looked into his expectant face. She felt her will crumbling.
“I do love football.”
“Great! Me too! It’s Betty’s official day off, but I’m sure we can manage snacks without her.”
Selene touched his chest. “I make a mean pan of nachos.”
Barkley leaned in before she could react. His lips were soft against hers. It was chaste, yet Selene felt her body grow softer; opening itself to more intimate ideas.
Barkley pulled away, his tongue dragging slowly across his bottom lip, savoring the kiss. “Come early, ok? I want as much time with you as possible.”
***
Selene laid awake for hours, tossing and turning, her body running from hot to cold. She finally sat up, running a hand through her dark wavy hair. She had crossed a line with Barkley Bailey. Not once had she crossed a line like this during a case. The bigger problem was that she wanted to spend time with Barkley. She wanted to feel his soft lips against hers again.
Her cell phone began ringing from her bedside table. Selene didn’t even have to look to see who it was. Only one person she knew had that kind of audacity at one in the morning.
“Yes, Mr. Mitchell?”
“How was your date?” The chuckle wheezing into her ear made her skin crawl.
“It was fine.”
“Any developments?”
“Other than it being a dysfunctional household from owner right down to servants? No. Nothing new to report.”
“But you will go back? You will try again?” The desperation Selene heard should have kicked in her sympathy, but it only served to irritate her.
“Of course. You’re paying me after all.”
“Good.”
There was a tense silence. Selene cleared her throat. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Fine. Oh, and Mr. Mitchell? Don’t call me after twelve anymore.” Selene slid a finger across the face of her phone and placed it back on the bedside table, falling back against her pillows. When the phone began ringing again, the theme song for a popular horror movie once again filling the room, she was sure it was Lucas Mitchell calling back just to get the final word in. Selene frowned at it, as an unrecognizable number flashed across her screen.
“Hello?”
“Selene.” Eric didn’t bother to question whether it was her or not. He knew it was a pet peeve from way back for her. Why pose a question for something you already knew?
“Why are you calling me?” Selene sat back up, her spine ridged.
“It was so good to see you today. I was hoping your number was the same.” He laughed dryly. “You never did like change much.”
“Sometimes change is good. What do you want?”
“I was hoping to see you.”
“What on earth for?”
Silence filled the space where sound should have been. Selene heard a faint tapping. Some things hadn’t changed for Eric either; he still liked to drum his fingers when nervous or impatient.
“Why are you acting like this?”
Selene’s eyes widened, pushing against the dark room. “Acting like what? You abandoned me when I needed you most, and now you act like we should just be old buddies and get together to reminisce on old times.”
The tapping stopped. “Yeah. Would that be so bad?”
“Don’t call me again.” Selene pressed the power button on the side of her phone, taking no chances for him to call back. She pulled her legs in to her chest, ignoring the tweaks of pain that shot through her hip. She hated the tears that pricked her eyes. The memories were coming in a flood. She couldn’t stop them this time.
The blades of the chopper made a whoop-whoop sound, but it was in slow motion. Selene was positive everything around her had been sucked into a time vacuum and was moving far slower than normal. She couldn’t hear things right.
Am I under water? I feel wet.
Selene ran a hand down her face pulling it away slick and hot. She put it towards her face, but she couldn’t focus at first. She squinted, jerking her arm to keep her hand in front of her face as someone tried to put her arm back by her side.
What is that?
Selene touched her face again and ran her hand up towards her head. When she fought to bring it back to her face again, things suddenly became crystal clear. Her hand was covered in blood, her blood, and there was a clump of hair and pieces of scalp intertwined with her fingers. Strong hands came down on her shoulder like a vice. Her screams were muffled to her own ears. She fought to back away, but one leg wouldn’t work. She strained, spittle flying from her mouth, to sit up and see her legs. Her camos were shredded and there was a gaping hole with blood rushing from her hip.
“Where are those children?” Selene screamed as a medic shone a pen light in her eyes. He lifted his head and spoke to someone beside her that she couldn’t see. He mouthed the word ‘shock.’
“Where are the children?” she screamed again.
A voice spoke into
her ear, barely audible, the only voice to make everything all right.
“We got them out, baby.” Eric had said. “It’s ok now. Rest.”
Selene relaxed, her bloody hand reaching for her fiancé. It would be two full months before she would find out that the eleven Afghani children for whom she was nearly killed trying to save, had in fact all died.
***
Sunlight streaming through her window, shot Selene straight up in bed. Her head ached from crying herself to sleep. It ached from once again having the same nightmare. She cut her phone on and waited for it to load.
10:45. Ok, I still have time.
Selene quickly showered and dressed in jeans and her favorite team jersey, winding her hair up in a bun. She stared at her reflection. Faint silver scars were barely visible running up from just under her right ear, disappearing under her hair. She unwound her hair and allowed it to fall loose. Again. There was no need to draw attention to them. Barkley asked enough questions as it was.
When Selene pulled into Barkley’s paved driveway, she said a silent prayer that Ruth would have indeed gone home. She wasn’t ready to see the woman again. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to see her again. She had heard of the upper crust being prejudiced, but Ruth Bailey seemed to have taken it to a whole other level.
Barkley bounded down the front steps, also in his favorite team jersey, different from Selene’s she noticed with a fan’s jealousy. He motioned for her to follow the drive to the back of the brownstone. Selene pushed the power button on the passenger side window.
“What?”
“Go ahead and put your car in the garage.”
“Why?”
Barkley shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted you to.”
“Whatever,” Selene muttered. Surely the man wasn’t embarrassed to have her car in his driveway.
Selene followed the drive around back. She could see a piece of the patio where she and Barkley had sat two evenings before. A strip of manicured lawn bordered by trees met with the patio. The garage doors slid upward, and Selene drove into a massive six-car garage. She recognized Barkley’s car, but not the other three. Selene smiled when her eyes landed on a rather impressive and expensive black and red import motorcycle. The street term for such a beast was “crotch rocket”—her favorite.
