by Ann Roberts
Swanson nodded slowly. “I suppose you could put it like that. Of course, Robert didn’t agree with me. He’s a Boy Scout when it comes to business, and he knows it. That’s why he hired me in the first place. He has the instincts, but he needed me to close the deals.”
“And that’s what you did with the downtown store?”
“Exactly,” Swanson said, his eyes twinkling. “That never would have happened if it was left to Robert, regardless of the previous unpleasantness between the two of them.” Molly assumed his euphemism referred to Thorndike’s affair with Lily. “I made that deal work,” he said, pointing at his chest, “and I’m damn proud of it.”
Molly didn’t bother to add that editorial comment to her notes. “Mr. Swanson, where were you last Saturday night?”
For the first time, his face paled, and the smile that seemed permanently transfixed on his face wavered. “I was with a friend,” he answered guardedly. “A male friend, Detective.”
Molly didn’t look up from her notes. She knew what he meant. “And his name?”
A deep sigh escaped from Swanson’s lips and he closed his eyes. “I assume it is absolutely necessary for me to give you that piece of information? To remove suspicion from myself?”
“That’s correct,” Molly said.
His eyes opened and he reached for his Mont Blanc fountain pen and a scratch paper, carefully unscrewing the lid. He wrote quickly and handed the result to Molly. As the name registered, she understood why Russ Swanson was hesitant to say it out loud. Not many men could claim to be sleeping with a superior court judge, one who was supposedly happily married to the mayor’s daughter.
She took a few seconds to gather her thoughts, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. Russ Swanson had just described his partner as a Boy Scout, and someone with scrupulous standards. Could a Boy Scout murder someone in cold blood? Doubts were clouding her mind as she found herself liking Bob Watson.
Swanson glanced at his watch, but Molly pretended not to notice. She thumbed through her notes, her mind cross-connecting all of the other information. Molly was at her best during interviews, and she prided herself on her thoroughness. “Mr. Swanson, I’ve noticed as we’ve talked that you have always referred to Bob Watson as Robert. Why is that? Everyone else calls him Bob.”
“Yes, Bob,” Swanson repeated with sarcasm. “I’m sorry, but I believe your name is a part of your professionalism. Robert sounds much more businesslike than Bob. Given the choice between the two, I’ll stick with Robert.”
Molly nodded and closed her notebook as the door swung open. Andre rushed to Molly and leaned over her shoulder, ignoring the surprised look from Russ Swanson. “I may have found the gun,” he whispered.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday, June 19
12:04 p.m.
If questioned later, Ari would have to admit she didn’t remember much of the drive back from Tempe, her mind accepting an uncomfortable realization—Bob was having an affair with Kristen Duke. She hadn’t met a real man until she went to college. Bob was most likely that man and Ari really wasn’t surprised. He had always attracted women.
She debated whether to tell Molly. It was just like the picture of Michael Thorndike—both gave Ari a nagging feeling like a guest who wouldn’t leave. There was nothing concrete, and there was no way she would complicate Molly’s life further, not after she’d already triggered Bob’s disappearance. She decided to wait until she could give the detective something solid.
She found herself sitting in the visitor’s parking lot of the police station. She’d just driven here on instinct, Jane’s words nagging in her brain. Although she wanted to help Bob, she had to see Molly. She had to know the detective’s feelings.
The lot was crowded, and Ari took the last available spot, right across from the front door. She hadn’t been to police headquarters in over three years, and then only briefly to deliver her mother’s funeral information to her father. He had refused to make the arrangements, declaring that since he and Ari’s mother were divorced, it was Ari’s responsibility to plan the service. It had been the most gut-wrenching time of her life. The death of her mother combined with the abandonment of her father had left her totally alone.
Now she suddenly dreaded going inside. Several uniformed and plainclothes officers wandered in and out, and Ari was certain she recognized some of them. Finding her cell phone and Molly’s number, she let the wonders of technology carry her to the third floor where the police detectives worked.
“Nelson.”
“Molly, are you busy?”
Clearly surprised, Molly sputtered, “Uh, well, yes.”
Ari could hear voices in the background, one of whom she remembered from the past. “Is that Captain Ruskin I hear squawking?”
“That would be correct,” Molly said. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m in the parking lot. Could you take a bathroom break and come down here? I need to speak to you, and I’m really not up for meeting and greeting all of my dad’s old cronies.” The line went silent, and Ari could hear Molly answering a question for someone else before returning to the conversation.
“That would be fine. Thank you for calling,” she said before hanging up.
Two minutes later Molly poured herself into the SUV and shut the door. She put her head against the seat and stared at Ari with tired eyes. Ari took Molly’s hand in her own, very aware of the bustling activity outside. “Bad day?” she whispered.
“Bad case,” Molly responded. She held the moment for as long as she could, savoring the cool touch of Ari’s palm. Upstairs, David Ruskin was reaming Andre for not finding the gun the day before, when they had initially searched Watson’s office. Of course, Ruskin blamed Molly. She wasn’t the rookie. She should have checked the filing cabinet more thoroughly. Molly debated mentioning it to Ari, but decided to let it go until the results were back. No need to worry her unnecessarily. “You said you wanted to talk?”
Ari sat up straight. “Actually, Detective, I’m rather upset with you.” Molly’s face filled with concern. “In all of my years of dating, I’ve never had someone run away from me. I’ve been turned down and in one case, a woman screamed at me and slammed the door, but you’re the first person to bolt out of my apartment like it was on fire.”
Molly looked down, her face coloring. “I’m sorry about that. I was embarrassed, kind of like right now. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been kissed by a woman, but never anyone like you. No one as beautiful . . .” Her voice fell off, and the words hung at the edge of the emotional cliff. She decided to take the leap. She looked at Ari and said, “I’m not the kind of woman who gets phone calls from gorgeous women.”
Ari hated it when Jane was right. She squeezed the detective’s hand and brought it to her lips. “Make no mistake about how attractive I think you are,” Ari said.
Molly studied Ari. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her screaming captain seemed ten thousand miles away while she was on some secluded island with this beautiful woman who tenderly kissed her big knuckles.
“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Molly murmured, “I have to get back to work. Will you go out with me tomorrow night? I promise I’ll stay through the whole date.”
Ari smiled and leaned toward Molly for a kiss when laughter erupted in front of them. Ari turned and saw three large cops exiting the precinct, their eyes focused on Ari’s windshield.
She blushed and Molly nodded in understanding. This wasn’t the place for romance, and if Captain Ruskin walked out that door, she would be a beat cop again in a second. Her hand still clasped in Ari’s, she asked, “Is Ari short for anything?”
“Aria.”
“How appropriate,” she whispered.
The feel of Molly’s caress stayed with Ari all the way to her office. Her passion and lust, if she would admit it, lay buried deep in her heart, a muscle that had experienced no use, except in the medical sense, for a long time. Although her relationshi
p with Trina had ended a year ago, the proverbial fire had smothered a year before that, but they were both too stubborn to break up. At least one out of their two years together had been good. Ari consoled herself with a fifty percent figure. If that were lottery odds, it’d be great.
Now, Ari’s emotions were getting a workout. Dating someone was not in the prescribed game plan. A methodical planner, Ari did not envision becoming involved for at least another eight months, thus allowing herself time to finish her broker’s courses and possibly start her own company. At that point, love could be penciled into her calendar, once her professional life was in order. Molly was not on the agenda, not to kiss and certainly not to date, but if her cell phone rang right at that moment, and Molly asked to meet at the Hyatt for an afternoon tryst, Ari would shatter the speed limit to get there.
Analyzing her feelings drained her energy, and for now, her mind needed to focus on work, which proved all consuming once she got to the office. A telephone remained glued to her ear for the next two hours. She followed up on loans for her buyers, called potential buyers for her listings, haggled with an agent over an offer, gave an ultimatum to a difficult client (“Clean up your house or I’m canceling the listing”) and threatened some hostile renters with a lawsuit if they didn’t allow her listing to be shown.
At two o’clock Ari scooped up her papers and trudged toward the conference room. As she entered, her boss was starting one of his tasteless jokes. “What do a blond and a screen door have in common? The more you bang it, the looser it gets.” She took her seat and listened to Harry Lewis’s booming laugh, clearly amused by his own sense of humor. Ari noticed the two other associate brokers laughed along, both of them spineless plebes who were afraid of Harry Lewis’s power.
“Harry, are we having a meeting?” Ari asked pointedly.
His capped teeth smiled at her and Ari seethed. He was a total ass, a slimeball underneath his thousand-dollar suit and gold pinky ring. He steepled his fingers against the wide expanse of his chest and said, “Sorry, Ari, we were just letting off a little male steam,” he said, obviously not sorry at all.
She had never thought she was capable of hate, but she gritted her teeth at this despicable man with his pasty face and three chins that folded over the knot of his tie, reflections of the gluttonous lifestyle he enjoyed. The two other associate brokers shuffled papers and pretended to take notes, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Ari was sure they wanted to crawl under the conference table.
She had shrugged off Harry’s advances and jokes since joining Allstar, which only increased his arousal. Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, he promoted her to associate broker, no doubt thinking it might improve his chances to get in her pants. He was sure all lesbians secretly desired a man, and in her case, he could make her switch teams.
She quietly seethed while he quickly started the meeting. She focused on the business at hand, but within five minutes her mind had drifted from real estate to Michael Thorndike’s death and the little niggling feelings that kept tickling the back of her mind. There was something about that wall . . .
“Don’t you agree, Ari?” Harry bellowed.
Ari jumped from her trance and glared at him. “Whatever you say, Harry.”
“Oh, really?” he grinned. “You want to get naked with me right now?” Her face went crimson. Making a rare split-second decision, she rose, gathered her papers, and left. In two minutes she had all of her personal belongings in a small box and she headed for the front door. The three men remained in the conference room and watched her through the glass as she stopped at the reception desk and hit the intercom button. “Attention Allstar agents: this announcement is to inform you that as of this moment, I quit.” A sharp moan swelled in the room. “And,” she continued, “it is also to let you know that Harry Lewis can be seen every Friday night at the 307 Club’s weekend drag show. He goes by the name Florida Orange. Thank you.”
Ari watched Harry leap from his chair, his huge belly catching the front of the table and sending him to the floor. She whisked out of the office laughing the whole way. It would have been nice if Jane had been there, since she was the one who’d told Ari about Harry’s double life.
For a moment, Ari panicked. She had made three unplanned decisions in her whole life: the first one she never spoke of, the second was to become a real estate agent and now, she’d just quit—no notice, no backup offer, nothing. She searched her emotions for an ounce of regret, but all she felt was relief. Money was certainly not a problem. Her financial portfolio was exceptional. She had worked diligently over the last ten years, too diligently, according to Trina. Ari had begged to differ, arguing that a relationship should not be all consuming. Since neither of them was willing to walk across the great divide and sacrifice anything, they broke up.
As she cruised down Seventh Street, it occurred to her that Bob’s corporate office was a mile away. It might be a good time to drop in on Russ Swanson and use the element of surprise to her advantage. She punched in the number and was tersely informed that Mr. Swanson had left for the day.
Sitting in the SUV, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Officially unemployed, there were plenty of things she could be doing, such as notifying her clients and finding another place to hang her license, but instead, she flipped open her cell phone and called Lily.
“Oh, Ari, have you heard from Bob?” she asked expectantly.
“I’m sorry, Lily, I haven’t heard a word. I’m sure he’ll call eventually,” Ari added, not really sure of anything anymore when it came to understanding her friends. “Besides checking in with you, I called because I have some clients who are interested in joining a club, and I’m not exactly sure which one to recommend. You like yours, don’t you?”
“Absolutely!” Lily gushed. “Your clients would love The Desert Racquet Club, and I’d be more than happy to give them a tour, just tell me when.”
That was the name she couldn’t remember. “Thanks, Lily. Let me run it by them, and I’ll let you know.”
“No problem,” Lily said, signing off.
Ari raced home for her tennis whites. She’d gladly given up tennis for racquetball when she saw how much smaller the court was. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a need to embarrass herself today.
Getting past the club’s front lobby proved easier than she thought. The clerk was obviously family, and very understanding about Ari’s predicament. She was here as a guest of Deborah Thorndike, but “Debs” had forgotten to notify the desk, and Ari didn’t know where to find her.
The young woman glanced at her watch. “That’s easy,” she said in a husky voice. “She’s in the sauna, every day from three to four.” The clock above the desk read three fifteen, and although Ari did not relish interviewing someone in the nude, it was unavoidable. She thanked the baby dyke for her help and followed the corridor to the changing rooms.
By three twenty-five, she was melting on a wooden bench with two other women who were engaged in small talk. She listened, hoping one of them would mention a clue as to her identity. Ten minutes later, just as Ari was about to give up, the older woman rose and said, “See you tomorrow, D,” before leaving.
Ari took a long look at the woman next to her. A fluffy white towel covered her midsection and she wore a second one as a turban. She was slight and petite, her feet barely touching the tile floor. Sensing Ari’s presence, she turned her head and Ari saw a face worthy of a painting. Deborah Thorndike could be described as flawless, complete with full lips and a Romanesque nose, but her most beautiful feature was her eyes, large and brown. As she adjusted her body towel, her hands seemed to float back to her sides.
Now that eye contact had been established, Ari decided to get right to it. She hated saunas and looking at this woman was making her light-headed. “Hello,” she began.
“Hello.” The word hung in the air, and like everything else about Deborah Thorndike, it seemed to glide away. “I haven’t seen you here before. You must be new.”
“Actually I am. Just moved from Oregon.”
“Lovely place,” Deborah remarked. “My husband and I used to have a summer home there.” Ari couldn’t help but notice there was a slight catch in her voice.
“Oh, you don’t have the home anymore?”
When she spoke, Deborah’s tone was even. “No, I don’t have the husband.”
“I’m sorry. Was this long ago?”
“Actually only a few days.”
“You’re doing remarkably well. I mean, to be back here at the club so soon.”
“It’s really the only enjoyment I’ve ever had. I think my husband was terribly jealous of the time I spent here. I’m a very good tennis player, and every time I won a tournament, he rewarded me by taking another mistress. His way of getting even.” Just as her tone remained neutral, so did her body. Her face betrayed not a hint of emotion and her hands remained in her lap. It was as if she were reporting the evening news. Ari found the effect chilling. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m boring you with this,” she said, her face becoming animated for a moment.
“Oh, I don’t mind. Sometimes it helps to talk to a stranger.”
Deborah looked around. “You must be right. I’ve said more to you in the past two minutes than I have to my shrink, my mother or my best friend in the last few days.” At this they exchanged smiles.
“Actually, I know a little of what you’re going through. My husband left me for another woman,” Ari lied.
“Then you know what it’s like. All the lame excuses, the credit card receipts that he just can’t explain, the women who call and hang up.” She threw her head back and laughed. “God, men are so transparent!”
“Then of course,” Ari pressed, “there’s always one that falls in love with him.”
Deborah stared at her, the emotion immediately evaporating again.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
Deborah’s gaze was steady. “You really do know, don’t you?” Ari nodded sympathetically. She understood exactly how Deborah felt. It didn’t have anything to do with a husband, but everything to do with Trina, the last woman she had let—or would ever let—live with her.
