“Look, I’m sorry for the damage. Was it very expensive?” I winced, expecting the worst.
She grinned. “Actually, you were quite lucky; it was only a reproduction. Besides, you look like you’re a responsible adult living alone. I’m sure it was exactly like you said, an accident. You don’t normally have these kinds of things happen to you all the time, now do you?”
I wasn’t going there. I didn’t have the nerve and my lips were sealed. Now that Mona was added to the mix, it might be a good idea to keep quiet. Like a kid, I crossed my fingers behind my back. “No, of course not!”
“Well, in that case, there shouldn’t be any further problems to be concerned about. Right?” She turned to leave. She hesitated at the doorway, staring back at me with a funny expression, as if trying to figure out the reason for my non-existent reply to her last question.
I quickly laughed. “My goodness! Absolutely not! I’ve got so much research I need to get done for my book. I can’t work unless it’s peaceful and quiet. You know how authors are.” I vigorously shook her hand goodbye.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” replied Pat, smiling. She started down the walkway, but then turned back again. “You know, after hearing about your wielding that metal bat of yours and then finally meeting you, I never would have pegged you for an athlete. I personally prefer wooden bats myself.”
Chapter 13
A Bill Here, A Bill There
After the initial shock of seeing how nearby these beach houses were to each other, I was still adjusting to their close proximity. Subsequent to being in the mountains and having my share of seclusion, this still seemed an oddity. Sandra had mentioned they made only so much beachfront. If I wanted the water and beach, I had better get used to it. I guess the lack of privacy to a certain extent was the price I had to pay if I wanted the spectacular view.
Raindrops glided sideways on the glass window in front of me. It was still lightly raining, forcing me to stick to my laptop and my book. So, I reluctantly reached for my notes to continue, but as I looked up, I noted some activity going on next door on the neighboring deck, adjacent to mine.
Two different sets of hands held two different umbrellas, two males observing the view. Both, I’d say, about six foot. I stared at them. Hmmm. Interesting.
I noticed my realtor, Bill, when one umbrella turned, revealing his profile. We had met briefly on the phone when I first inquired about renting, and then later, after I made the initial trip down to view several properties and share a few dinners. He was a friendly guy, sporting a dark mustache and hair that was slightly graying a bit on the sides. After that trip, his leasing rep, Pat, verbally took it from there. To my surprise, Sandra’s former suggestion for a change of setting was perfect and just what I needed.
I sighed. It looked as if my solitude was about to be compromised by this renter. Curious, I craned my neck, but his umbrella and coat obscured anything more specific.
Great, just what I needed. Not only would I have to put up with Mona and her antics, but now I had to deal with an unknown variable thrown into the mix next door. Oh well. So much for my low profile and serenity plan for writing.
Maybe, if I ignored whoever it was, I would still be able to have a tolerable measure of peace and quiet. Regrettably, that might prove hard to do because our decks were only separated by a gap of about twelve feet or so.
Maybe I should move the desk back to the small bedroom, which faced the street. But this view was so pretty! I turned my attention back to my laptop and began to type some thoughts. Mona was proving to be a harder challenge to figure out than I had originally assumed. She kept information about her departures and returns to a minimum. Currently, she was gone for the day once again. I noticed that when she made these strange forays out into the unknown, she only returned occasionally to join me for dinner.
Her nervous chatter over the course of the meal seemed mindless and baffling. Something was definitely up, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was proud of myself, in that I had not been reduced to going through her things in her room…yet.
As far as I was concerned, no harm was being done in my helping her out for a few weeks while she got her life together. As long as it didn’t interfere with mine, I was taking a wait and see attitude. In the meantime, the clock was slowly ticking away on my curiosity.
Now, I heard of going for numerous interviews, but why the long absences? Where was she disappearing? No. I could never do that. Follow her? After all, I had to give her some privacy. We went way back, but still, she had changed. Was she the one who I remembered from college? …No!
My main questions at the moment were what had changed her? Where was she going? Why couldn’t I locate her in the past? Why was she still being so evasive?
Out of habit, I minimized my word document for a moment, while I paused to pay some E bills online. My cursor blinked, as I slowly scanned down the screen. Suddenly, my hand froze at the sight of the amount on the next E bill. That was impossible!
Whoa! Atlantic City? Can’t be! I quickly grabbed and thoroughly checked inside my wallet to verify what I was afraid I would find. I checked once again to make sure.
To my dismay, my credit card was, you guessed it, missing!
Chapter 14
Being Pinched Where It Hurts
I was shocked. I had yet to set one foot in Atlantic City, but apparently my card went on a binge recently without me. I got hold of the fraud division of the credit card company and cancelled it.
They apologized for not calling to check to verify the charges and would issue a new card and number. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience.’ I’d have it by mail in a day or two. My anti-theft insurance on the card had paid off.
On the other hand, apparently, I had not done well at the gaming tables at the Borgata. The withdrawal at the ATM and casino charges was mind-boggling. According to the total on my statement, I was not the greatest of gamblers.
Whoever used my card had apparently maxed out my limit. I checked the bill once again. My binge lasted exactly one day. It appeared that not only was I an unlucky gambler, but apparently, I went on a bender too. The bar tab was pretty impressive. I didn’t realize I had such a drinking problem. Or, maybe I had more friends then I realized.
Between the casino and the bar tab, I was apparently one lavish spender and suddenly a very popular customer, because my afternoon mail that day contained brochures for every casino in the whole area, all trying to entice me to spend my money at each and every one.
Did I mention the extravagant shows they offered too? On one of them, there was an invitation to go back stage and meet the stars personally after the performance.
I was starting to get real excited until I realized my drunken gambling days were numbered, now that my new probationary minimal limit would be kicking in with the new card. Annoyed and feeling totally violated, I decided it was time to take action and get moving on taking a closer look at the most obvious suspect, while asking myself the number one question of the day.
Now, who had the opportunity, took my card, and hit the Borgata?
Chapter 15
Room Number 707
So much for respecting other people’s privacy, close friends or not, I thought the next day, as I began tossing Mona’s personal things. I methodically went through all her dresser drawers and then both of her night tables. Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Not even a scrap of dirty laundry. I had to admit, she hadn’t changed one bit since college. Her room was meticulous, a hospital zone. She was a dream houseguest. Everything was perfectly folded and neatly stacked.
I started in on the closets, already knowing I would find shoes in precise rows and carefully hung clothes. Next, I plundered through her toiletries in the bathroom; tums, shampoo, conditioner, aspirin, blah, blah, blah. Nothing! I went back into the bedroom and bent down to look under the bed. Zip there too! I slowly spun around in a circle.
Now, where would I hide something I didn’t want someone else to find?
I walked up to a painting hanging on the wall opposite the bed. I gently lifted it off its hook and turned it around. A credit card? I eased off the tape, releasing the card and placed the painting temporarily on the bed. I checked my watch. Mona would be back shortly, so I had to move quickly. I peered at the card to take a closer look. No, it seemed to be some sort of hotel key card. I turned it over.
Aha! Finally! The Borgata! The only problem was what room? I spun around and suddenly spotted her purse strap peeking out from under her jacket on the chair that I had previously overlooked. She was currently on a bike ride on the boardwalk, and by chance, must have only taken her heavy fleece jacket.
I quickly emptied it on the bed and started pilfering through its contents. Comb. Cosmetics. Wallet! I stopped, opened it up and began methodically checking all the tiny compartments. I found a receipt for room service. I quickly scanned the receipt. Borgata. Room 707. My mouth fell open, as I read the signature.
…Who was Paula Foster?
I jumped, as the garage door abruptly slammed shut.
“I’m back,” Mona called out.
Panic-stricken at the thought of being caught in the act, I quickly slipped the receipt back in her wallet and threw everything into her purse. Then I grabbed the key card and reattached it to the tape, pressing it carefully in place.
My breath caught, as she hit the first step.
I rushed to grab the painting and carefully placed it on its hanger and swung around to the bed, smoothing down her comforter nonchalantly and looked up, just as she appeared in the doorway.
She entered her room, surprised to find me there.
“Hi!” I greeted casually. How did the ride go?”
Mona nervously glanced around the room suddenly on high alert and replied, “…Great ride. …A little chilly today …but if you bundle up …it’s okay.”
I stood upright, laughing easily. “I don’t know why I even bother coming in here to straighten up. You are the neatest houseguest I have ever had. You haven’t changed one bit in all the years I have known you.”
Thank goodness I had an excuse and the forethought to bring up bottled water for her night table!
She just stared at me.
“Oh, and by the way, I brought up some bottled water for you for later on.”
She immediately relaxed, flinging her fleece and herself on the bed. “Sam, this is such a great room and wonderful bed, and I am so exhausted. I haven’t pedaled a bike so far in years. In the beginning, it was great, but then when I headed back; it felt like the longest two miles of my life. What a boardwalk!” she exclaimed, as her eyes gradually fluttered closed from total exhaustion. “…If you don’t mind…I think …I’ll just take a …quick …nap.”
Relieved, I smiled. “Hey, I’m going up to make lunch.” As I approached her door to leave her room, I turned back. “It should be ready in…” I paused, checking my watch, relieved and still smiling, and in seventh heaven at not being caught.
“Oh, let’s say, about …seven minutes. Okay?”
Chapter 16
The Man In The Gray Suit
It sure didn’t look flannel to me. Looked more like expensive tailored wool. I tried to focus my binoculars to get a sharper image. My neck was in a cramp already, turned at an uncomfortable angle, as I sat at my desk window staring next door. The man in the suit was gazing out at the ocean with his hands in his pants pockets.
If he would turn just a little, I thought, I might get a better idea of what he looked like. Suddenly, he pivoted in my direction.
Caught red-handed! I quickly shoved the binoculars aside, busying myself, looking down at my riveting notes. Self-conscious, I could feel my face flaming shades of red. I tried to glance sideways without moving my head.
My breath caught. “Oh!” He was now laughing and still facing in my direction. If he thought I was going to look back that way again, he was obviously mistaken!
Minutes ticked by, as I reread the same passage several more times until it blurred before my eyes. I stayed like that, glued to my laptop and notes, not veering one iota towards my neighbor on the other deck, and was dying a slow humiliating death!
The doorbell rang downstairs. Grateful, I turned away in the opposite direction and swiveled out of my chair. It rang again. “Coming,” I called out, as I loped down the stairs. I whipped open the door.
“…Oh! …well ... …uh…” It was the mystery man from next door! I felt like a complete fool, standing there, not knowing quite what to say. My words and facial expression reflected multi phases of embarrassment, which was nothing compared to my mental hesitation.
He smiled. “I thought I should introduce myself,” he offered, “…seeing you were so interested.”
I swear not one word came to mind. I was frozen solid to the spot where I stood, gaping up at him. His sudden appearance left me feeling off balance.
He smirked. “Let me start then. I’m David. I’m your new neighbor. Well, I guess you already knew that, didn’t you?” He stood there smiling at me, completely relaxed.
I was in a state of uncertainty and still at a loss for a reply, even after hearing his name. I averted my eyes a second, trying to mask my discomfort at having been caught with my binoculars visibly trained on him.
He stood there waiting patiently, apparently expecting some kind of response. “Is something the matter?” he asked, looking somewhat confused by my strange reaction to his introduction.
“…No, I mean...yes. …I’m fine. …What did you say your name was again?” I asked, still upset about being caught off guard.
He held out his hand. “David,” he said in a timbre I felt sounded oddly familiar.
Who did he remind me of?
I reached over and shook it and then looked down and swiped my palm against my jeans, like I had just touched a ghost. “You remind me of someone.” The deep voice was bugging me! He was handsome, but a little older than I had originally thought, with a touch of gray past his prominent cheek line.
“Is that good or bad?” He asked, looking intrigued, casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“I’m not sure yet. I just met you,” I lightly tossed back in his direction. “Are you here for very long?”
“After meeting you, I’m sorely tempted to extend my stay, but since I’m unpredictable, I really can’t say, as I tend to get restless being in one place for too long. That is unless something snags my interest.”
“You sure we’ve never met before?” I asked uncertainly, as I checked him out, ignoring his last words.
He glanced up and down at me. “I’m sure I would have remembered meeting someone like you, honey.”
I inhaled sharply. Of course! Spoken just as boldly as a complicated player from my recent past! Highlands! Clay!
“Would you like to come in?” I asked, remembering my manners, and like once before, more than intrigued by this brash behavior. Would I never learn?
The clock in the foyer chimed. David glanced down at his watch. “Hey, I’m sorry, but I have to cut this short,” he said. “I’ve got an appointment and I’m late. Maybe next time.”
“Suit yourself,” I replied offhandedly, glad the whole humiliating incident was mercifully drawing to a close.
“It was nice to meet you, Sam.”
“Same here, David,” I replied.
I slowly, but firmly shut the front door and then locked it. I was just about to walk back upstairs, but stopped and turned back to stare blankly at the entrance.
I had never once mentioned my name. Interesting.
Chapter 17
I Can’t Believe This. Can You?
I slowly climbed the staircase back to my room. I sat down heavily on the chair at my desk, thinking. He acted like Clay, my former friend/love interest/and adversary, but said he was David. He was cocky like him, but older. His timbre was similar to Clay’s, but not quite. He was alike in many ways, but then not really. Although presumptuous, Clay wouldn’
t call me honey. David had.
Was I reading more into it than I should, or was I somehow missing someone or something that initially had potential, but wasn’t meant to be? I was inundated with unresolved issues that I still didn’t think I was ready to deal with yet. So I mentally moved on.
Of all the people who could have rented the house next to mine, it had to be another attractive man? My fate factor was being psychologically challenged with what was happening lately with all these random circumstances that now included a mounting list of new and old acquaintances.
I had a Harley girl who ran a cleaning business with a cleaning crew that came once a week, a possible dual personality individual as my leasing agent, a next door neighbor who I felt reminded me of another man who had danger written all over him, a real estate agent that obviously knew them all, a potential mugger on the beach, a burglar who almost got smashed with a statue, a girlfriend who was staying with me and hiding a hotel key behind a painting, and an anonymous compulsive drunken gambler who liked to high roll it with my credit card!
Did I miss anybody?
The doorbell rang. I sighed.
Now what?
I sat there like stone. I didn’t feel like getting up. It rang once more. I took a calming breath and slowly made my way to the stairwell. It rang insistently again. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I snapped, sprinting down the stairwell. I firmly gripped the handle and swung the door open.
“…Oh …my …God!” I said, stunned.
“Very funny, Sam! What kind of greeting was that? Especially after all we’ve been through too!”
Shocked, I silently tacked onto that list an elderly, cantankerous, seventy-something woman.
“…Martha?”
“Well, it ain’t Angelina Jolie! That’s for sure! Now, get on out there and help bring my bags in. That cabby just dumped them by the curb. Well, I never! Can you imagine being so rude?” She shoved her way in after a quick hug from me.
Without Any Warning (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 2) Page 4
