by Judy Kentrus
“He only showed up out of respect for Lincoln and Jessie. I had good intentions, but as usual, my tongue worked faster than my brain. I’ve apologized for embarrassing him in front of the guests and half the town. ‘Think before you act’ should become my new personal motto.”
“I understand where you are coming from, because you are a determined, caring and generous person. When it comes to Preston, those feelings are much stronger. Doing something for the one you love is more of a challenge, especially when it meets with stubborn resistance. It’s going to take hard work and time before he realizes you know what’s good for him. So, you’re going to show up for dinner as sweet Cindi Pearl?”
“Looks that way.”
“You’re a better woman than I am. If you change your mind, I’ve got the perfect dress upstairs. I wore it during an undercover operation as a hooker.”
“If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”
Late Thursday morning, Cindi finally got a chance to sort through the mail on her desk. Lincoln’s first day back in the office had her busier than normal. Right now, he was in a closed-door meeting with Treig Taylor, one of their undercover agents, discussing a new assignment. She needed to talk to Preston about their dinner reservation tomorrow night and decided it could wait until she finished reviewing the correspondence. A half dozen FedEx boxes were stacked on the floor next to her desk. Her eyes kept drifting to the one on the top, addressed to Cindi Pearl personally. The return address was from a toy manufacturer in California. “I didn’t order anything.” Curiosity was eating away at her patience. “The rest of the mail can wait.”
She retrieved a slim cutter from the top drawer in her desk and slit the clear tape, but encountered another sealed package. A plain white gift card had been taped to the top. The big smile on her face dimmed when she read the message. If you don’t back off, this could happen, for real. She ignored standard security precautions and eagerly lifted out the smaller box. In her haste to open the lid, the sharp tip of the cutter caught the edge of her finger, drawing blood. “Nice job, Cindi Pearl,” she chastised herself, thrusting her bleeding finger in her mouth and continued to dig for the contents with her other hand. A rusty taste coated her tongue, but the blood drained from all her features at the sight of a black, white and gray stuffed animal, a replica of her dear, sweet Donut. Tears ran unheeded down her paled cheeks when she lifted the fluffy critter out of the bubble packing. The pigmy goat’s neck had been twisted and drooped at an unnatural angle.
The door to Lincoln’s office opened and he walked out smiling, along with Treig. Both paused at the sight of tears running down Cindi’s face and the mangled stuffed animal in her hand.
Treig rushed over to Cindi. “What the hell! That critter could pass for Donut. What bastard could be so heartless?” He removed the toy from her shaking hand and set it on the desk. “Come here, baby doll,” he crooned and gathered her in.
Cindi buried her face in his strong shoulder and wrapped her arms around his slim body. A stream of hot tears dripped onto his button-down shirt. Treig was a good friend, and they’d dated on and off. Settling down with one woman was in the far future for him. He’d almost lost his life a few months ago working undercover for Pennsylvania’s Alcoholic Beverage Control and just started working for Adams Security. Treig wasn’t ready to visit St. Peter. Life meant having fun and taking a few risks.
Lincoln ignored his brother-in-law’s cuddling of his admin and picked up the stuffed animal. He would have liked to twist the neck of the person who’d been so cruel to Cindi. He, Jessie and Edie had been with Cindi when she picked out the little goat. His ten-year-old daughter decided a pigmy goat would be a great addition to their growing family. Lincoln promised if and when they moved to a farm, she could have one. Edie had been less than satisfied with his answer.
Momentary panic set in, and Cindi jerked her head up, whacking Treig on his chin. “Oh, my God! How does this person know about Donut? That means he knows where I live! Suppose he went to the farm, for real! Sam is still at the Spoonful!”
Treig wiggled his jaw and rubbed his sore chin. “I’ll go to the farm right now.”
The thought had already occurred to Lincoln. “Wait, I’ve got a better idea.” He took out his cell phone and retrieved the number he used quite frequently. He put the call on speakerphone and it was picked up on the second ring.
“Clyde’s Gardening Service, Clyde speaking. How ya doin’, Mr. Adams?”
“Just the man I need.” Lincoln said. “Can you do me a solid right away and go over to Samantha Kingsley’s farm and make sure the animals are okay?”
“I left there ten minutes ago and everything was fine. At first I couldn’t find Donut, but he was jumping in the lake. Can’t understand it. Goats don’t like going in water. He is such a rascal. I started on the lawn in the front of the house and he leaped on my shoulders. Stayed there the entire time and did his rendition of shake, rattle and roll. I’m still wet. Is there a problem, Mr. Adams?”
“Not anymore. Thanks, Clyde.” Lincoln reached for a tissue from the box on her desk and held it out. “You heard him. The animals are fine. Wipe and blow. Then you had better tell me what’s going on.”
Cindi gratefully accepted the tissue and wiped the lingering wetness from her cheeks. “Maybe I’d better.”
Preston read over the report, satisfied he’d gone as far as he could in his investigation of a computer company misrepresenting their earnings in anticipation of selling the company. He e-mailed his findings to their fraud department, but he needed to talk to Lincoln about a pending investigation. The priority report had taken longer than anticipated, and he hadn’t been able to research Cindi Pearl’s problem. He unrolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt and reached for his sports from the back of his chair. Before leaving, he grabbed his cane, a gift from the physical therapist that had helped Preston through a hellish period in his life. As he walked down the wide, carpeted corridor on his way to Lincoln’s office, he returned friendly waves. The staff in Manhattan had been cordial, but his new coworkers drew him into their fold liked he’d been born and raised in the Highlands. A number of men and women had transferred from other offices, but the team Lincoln had formed blended with ease and efficiency. He was appreciative of the invitations to join them in a night of bowling, drinks or dinner after work, but he was still trying to find his groove.
He’d felt too confined by the tall buildings in the city. Having grown up in Oregon, he loved living in the wide open spaces. He liked that he could look out the wide windows at the surrounding mountains. The pines, maples and oaks were a rich, vibrant green, flourishing under the sun’s summer warmth. They would look magnificent in the fall.
Hearing voices, he paused in the doorway to Cindi’s office. His body stiffened like cold, hard steel and his fingers gripped the arch of his cane. Cindi was being clasped tightly in the arms of Treig John Taylor. What hurt even more, she was returning his embrace! The green-eyed monster double-punched him in the gut. He had no right to harbor these feelings of jealousy. In reality, he could never give her what she needed. It was torture and he needed to leave. His tongue felt thick, and he barely got the words out.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back later.” He abruptly turned about and ignored Lincoln’s request to wait. Jealous resentment continued to burn in his body, and he almost stumbled in his haste to return to the privacy of his office. He stepped inside, and closed the door firmly. “Goddamn it!” he raved. Not giving any thought to his action, the cane in his hand became an onyx lance. It flew across the room, just missing one of the wall screens, and plummeted to the dark gray carpeting. He was shocked at the intensity of his anger and pain, especially around his heart.
“Where the hell did that come from?” he muttered, sitting in the padded armchair behind his desk. His hands were still trembling. Seeing the woman he loved in the arms of another man had triggered an intense reaction he hadn’t felt in years, a time before he lost his leg
. The pain around his heart was a reminder he couldn’t tell her how he felt. He wasn’t whole. Treig was a great guy and could give her love, physical pleasure, everything she needed from a man. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Treig refused to leave and held Cindi’s hand while she confessed all. Lincoln leaned against his desk and asked very few questions until she was finished.
“Cindi Pearl Sullivan. Why am I not surprised you were going to try and solve this on your own? At least you had enough sense to consult Preston. Whoever sent you that stuffed animal isn’t playing games. The amount of missing money means this isn’t just a penny ante theft. This is grand larceny, and we have to notify the police.”
“Not yet, please!” Cindi shoved away from Treig, this time being careful not to injure his sore chin, and transferred her grip to Lincoln’s arm. “Can’t we keep the theft in-house? If it got out, our volunteers and supporters would cut us off at the knees. It would also damage the reputation of the entire derby community. It’s hard enough getting donations. You’ve got better resources and equipment than the Laurel Heights and state police combined. Not all of our chapters have a superhero named Lincoln Adams.”
“I’m not a superhero. Your reasoning is sound, but I’m going to tell Jessie. That way, we will be officially notifying the police. I will also set up a separate account to cover expenses until we find out who took the original hundred and fifty thousand dollars. We’ll start back tracking the package while Preston investigates the financial end. We can have our private lab dust for prints, but the perp probably used gloves, and the outer package passed through too many hands.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, boss! I bless the day I walked into you with my hot latte.”
“Me too, Cindi Pearl,” Lincoln laughed. “Edie plans to run in the stock category. If I went home and told her the race is going to be postponed indefinitely, I might lose my happy home. Knowing her, she’d want to start a ‘Save the Race’ campaign. I also don’t want to disappoint the other kids, especially the Super Kids.”
“I wish I could help you out,” Treig said, “but our boss just gave me an undercover assignment.”
Cindi had full knowledge of where TJ was going and what the job entailed. “You be careful. This is serious. No heroics, but get that bastard,” she said, and gave him a warm hug.
He kissed her on the forehead. “I will, doll face, and don’t forget to put a Band-Aid on your finger.”
When she got back to her desk, the stuffed animal had been removed. Looking at the poor critter made her think too much of Donut. She also felt a great deal better knowing she could cover the derby expenses, and they wouldn’t lose their funding or disappoint the children.
It was already after four, and she needed to talk to Preston so they could finalize their plans for the following night. She stopped in the break room to get two cups of coffee, but paused outside his door when she heard him talking to someone on his cell. Not wanting to interrupt his conversation, she waited in the corridor.
“The Last Chance Motel isn’t five-star, but it’s clean. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty tomorrow night.”
Cindi’s ears perked up when he mentioned the following evening. Wrong, wrong, wrong, she told herself, but the female curiosity imbedded in every woman told her to listen.
“No, I’m not getting married. She’s no one special, just a casual friend. We get it on from time to time, just to relieve the sexual tension. Neither of us is attached.”
No one special! Casual friend! Sexual tension! Cindi silently fumed when there was a pause in his conversation.
“What do you mean I’m being evasive? She’s a woman and pees the same way you do! We work for Adams Security, but keep our relationship quiet. I’m not lying! She isn’t a hooker I hired for the evening.”
“That’s it!” Angry footsteps carried her back to her office. “I’ll show you ‘no one special.’” She drank both cups of now tepid coffee, wishing they were laced with a shot of Kahlúa, pulled out her cell phone and left a message. “Samantha, you know that dress you told me about? Well, dig it out of the mothballs. Preston Reynolds has a date with a hooker tomorrow night.”
She made a second call to Jojo’s Curl Up n Dye, the full-service salon that opened on Main Street a few months ago. “Jojo, I have an emergency. I need a pedicure and a full set of tips. Can you fit me in on my lunch hour tomorrow? Make sure you have a good supply of neon pink nail polish. Oh, and I’ll want one of those temp tattoos you’ve been advertising. Twelve-thirty, great. Thanks, Jojo.”
She hung up and spouted. “No one special! Tomorrow night you’ll find out exactly how special I am!”
Chapter 4
“Do you think she’ll like me?” Jennie Reynolds adjusted the knot at the back of her head, making sure none of the hair had come loose. She’d hated confining her honey-blond hair, but she’d wanted to make a good impression on the committee and her brother’s date. The gray business suit and neat hair portrayed her as a professional woman for her interview. For luck, she’d worn her pin in the shape of a soccer ball, a gift from a grateful group of teens she’d coached and won a state championship. It made her sad to think her coaching days were over, but she really wanted this job and all the challenges it entailed. After dinner, she planned to go for a run to burn off the calories from their fancy meal.
Preston checked his watch, wondering what was keeping Cindi Pearl. The reservation was for seven, and she was already ten minutes late. Having dinner with Cindi in the popular restaurant would raise a few eyebrows and feed the gossip hounds, but they were coworkers and his sister was present, so it wouldn’t appear as if they were actually on a date.
Every table in the richly decorated dining room was filled. He appreciated that the owners had retained the age-old character, right down to the nineteenth-century, tin ceilings. They’d matched the dark cherry wood dining tables to the wainscoted walls.
Jennie watched her brother finger the black crystals that dripped from the rim of the bell-shaped lampshade on the short bronze lamp in the center of the table. “Hey, Preston James. Stop your wool gathering and answer my question. Do you think she’ll like me?”
“Jennifer, you don’t have to impress Cindi.”
“Stop calling me that. Only mother and father use that name when they are annoyed with me.”
“Okay, Jen. She is a very nice woman I work with.” Preston sipped ice water from a short-stemmed glass, hoping they could successfully pull off this charade and not have it come back and bite him in the ass. They just had to get through this evening, and his sister would go home with the knowledge he was still interested in women.
The waiter, dressed in a formal black tuxedo, approached their table. “Can I get you something from the bar while you’re waiting for your other guest?”
“We’ll both have Cutty Sark and water, three cubes.”
“It’s nice to know you remember what I drink.” Her brother’s unease was obvious. He kept adjusting the perfect knot in his silk tie and checking his watch. He could have modeled for GQ magazine with his excellent taste in clothes, but Preston was such a tight-ass and should have learned to relax. What had happened to the carefree hell-raiser she grew up with and drove their parents crazy? She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile or heard his hearty laugh. “Tell me more about your lady love. Is she your age?”
“She is not my lady love, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t know how old she is, probably younger than me. I met her three years ago when I started working at the Manhattan location for Adams Security. I’m positive you’ll like her.”
“Was she the reason you transferred to Laurel Heights?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous!”
“And he blushes!” Devilment danced in Jennie’s light green eyes, the same color as her brother’s. “I called Mom and told her you had a girlfriend.”
His sister loved to bust his chops, and he summoned all the patience in his body. “Cindi’s not a girlfriend, j
ust an occasional lover. Mom’s probably planning the damn wedding!”
“Not quite. Just the bridal shower,” she teased, and patted the back of his hand. “Don’t sweat it, baby brother. They want grandchildren and it’s all up to you. I’ll be forty in a few months and don’t plan to start changing diapers this late in life. You can’t raise a kid on Social Security. Don’t get me wrong, I like men, but I don’t need one to tell me what to do and how to run my life.” Jennie turned serious and flattened her hand on his chest, directly over his heart. “It’s just us, so be honest. What happened to Dolphin, the devil-may-care boy who lived in here?”
No one had referred to him by his nickname in a long time. Growing up, he could never bullshit his older sister because she always understood and read into him. “He died seven years ago. Life as I knew it is gone forever.” He offered a small, tight-lipped smile and captured her hand. “I have a ten-figure bank account and a great job with lots of friends. I’m content.”
“But are you happy?”
Preston was relieved the server chose that moment to deliver their drinks. Jen would be able to tell if he lied.
The waiter glanced at the vacant seat. “Would you like to order an appetizer or wait for your other guest?”
“She’ll be here soon,” he replied before raising his glass to his sister. “Hope you get the job. Laurel Heights is a great place to live, and it will be nice having you around.”
“Thanks. Me, too. I really need a change of atmosphere after the scandal.
“You had nothing to do with the misappropriation of funds.”
“I know that and I was totally upfront with the committee this afternoon since they plan to run the Norman Taylor Community Center as a nonprofit foundation. I’d have the upper hand in deciding what athletic programs that would be offered so more people will benefit from the amenities, especially those with physical impairments.” Jen helped herself to a piece of warm sourdough bread from the small cutting board the server had just placed on the table and reached for a pat of butter shaped like a sunflower. “You know, Mom and Dad were disappointed you didn’t come home after you left rehab. They had planned a big party to honor your heroism. Dad was going to approach the Mayor to give you a plaque.”
