The Pajama Affair

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  Liza smiled as if this was good news, but in reality Sal made her nervous and always had. She still had the sense his newly accepting mood was an act. It felt more patronizing than approving. Maybe recent events were making her paranoid. After all, what possible motivation could Dirk’s cousin have for not wanting her to be with Dirk?

  If she was lukewarm about Sal’s company, Dirk was ecstatic. “You should spend some time with us. Liza is an amazing cook. We’ll have you over and she can cook something impressive.”

  “Sounds very domestic,” Sal said. She couldn’t be sure if his tone was sarcastic, but Dirk didn’t seem to think so. He smiled happily at Liza and tucked into his food.

  “Liza is a wonderful cook,” Dirk’s father agreed. “Much better than that other girl. The famous one. What’s her name?”

  An awkward silence fell over the table.

  “Scarlet,” Sal supplied at last. “Although her cooking must have improved because she has a cookbook coming out.”

  Part of Scarlet’s fame had come from her learning process. People were fascinated by the new bride’s stories as she went from novice to expert in nearly every subject, including cooking. She even learned how to do car repairs that, though simple, were light years over Liza’s head. There was seemingly nothing she couldn’t do.

  “Scarlet’s a marvel,” Liza muttered, and meant it. She didn’t dare glance at Dirk. She didn’t want to read love or regret or anything else on his face.

  Thankfully Mrs. Xavier moved on to a new, innocuous topic. Liza concentrated on her food until she felt someone’s eyes on her. She wasn’t surprised to see Sal studying her intently, but she had no idea what his searching look meant. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown. Instead he seemed to be trying to figure something out. She tore her eyes away and dropped them to the plate before looking at Dirk in her peripheral view. Had he noticed the exchange? She didn’t think so because he was also looking at his plate.

  They didn’t stay long after supper. “I haven’t seen Liza all week,” Dirk explained. “Pardon me for not sharing her tonight.” He put his arm around her, led her outside, and opened her car door. She rested her hand on his forearm.

  “Dirk, is there something I should know?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it and shook his head with a smile. “I missed you, is all.”

  She returned his smile. “I missed you, too.”

  He leaned in and pressed her against the side of his car. “What did you do this week?”

  The most significant part of her week was something she couldn’t tell him about. She considered defying Agent Stone’s orders and telling him anyway, but she didn’t want to get in trouble. And she didn’t want to make Dirk worry. “I went to the salon.”

  “I noticed. Too bad. I was growing attached to the yellow color. It was sort of exotic, like a tropical bird.”

  She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but he was holding her too tightly.

  “I’m teasing you. You look beautiful.”

  She blinked at him a few times, sure he had never said those words to her before.

  “I like being able to see your freckles.” He touched his nose to hers.

  “I didn’t know you knew I had freckles,” she said. She thought she had kept them a well-hidden secret.

  “Liza, after five years together you sort of learn each other’s secrets.”

  “What else do you know about me?” She smiled up at him, expecting him to list more of her idiosyncrasies. “Besides the fact that I can cook.” If she had to hear him reference her food one more time, she might scream.

  “Why do you say it like that, like you being able to cook is a bad thing? Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? That’s proved true for us.”

  She frowned. “You didn’t know I could cook when you asked me out.”

  “But you cooked for me on our second date.”

  “I did?”

  He nodded and opened her car door for her once again. “Sometimes I think I need to wear a nametag when I’m with you,” he said as soon as he slid behind the wheel.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that you have forgotten nearly every aspect of our lives.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I know you better than you know me,” he said.

  “Because you don’t tell me anything,” she complained. “You keep secrets.”

  “I don’t have any secrets from you. Ask me anything.” He darted her a smile and turned back to the road.

  “How many people have you killed?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Liza.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him that saying her name in an exasperated tone wasn’t an answer, and then she was distracted by headlights in the rearview mirror. The car was unusually close to their back bumper. She turned to look over her shoulder, but the lights blinded her so she could only make out the silhouette of a man behind the wheel. It was dusk but she could still see that the car was an American model dark sedan. She faced forward again and watched the car in her mirror. He took all the same turns they did and when they finally reached her house he drove slowly past. She could just barely make out the outline of a dark suit. She was so distracted by the strange car that it took her a minute to realize Dirk wasn’t getting out of the car.

  “You’re not coming in?” she asked, disappointment ringing in her tone.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I have an early morning tomorrow to try and catch up on a week’s worth of work.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I would walk you in, but I’m afraid I would never leave.” He kissed her once more and then remained in the driveway watching until she let herself in.

  She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. On the one hand, she wanted to continue their earlier conversation about secrets. But on the other hand she needed to make a phone call, a call that she didn’t want Dirk to overhear.

  She fished in her purse until she found the number she was looking for and then she picked up her phone and dialed. Her foot tapped impatiently while she waited for him to pick up, and when he did she couldn’t hold back her anger any more. “You had us followed?”

  Chapter 9

  Agent Link Stone’s date was not going well. He wasn’t above flashing his credentials in order to get a girl to go out with him. Women liked a badge; this much he knew. He also knew it wasn’t exactly ethical to use his status to pick up women, but he was a realist. The kind of women he usually went for wouldn’t look twice at him if he didn’t offer some other inducement, namely his job. Most people were impressed by his title: FBI Special Agent Link Stone. Little did they know almost everyone who worked in the field was termed a special agent.

  But this girl, Molly, only wanted to talk about his job. Who had he arrested? How had it gone down? Had he ever been involved in wire tapping? Had he ever killed anyone? What kind of gun did he carry? Did he wear a bullet-proof vest all the time?

  At first her interest in his career had been flattering. But then it had quickly turned creepy. After he answered a few routine questions, he clammed up and wouldn’t answer anymore. And that’s when things really went downhill. Neither of them had said a word for the last ten minutes and Molly now had a hurt, wounded puppy look on her face. Why were the beautiful ones always crazy? When he saw her working the makeup counter at the mall, he never dreamed things would turn out this way. After all, he had pursued her for three weeks to get her to say yes. And now he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Still, when his phone told him Liza Benson was calling, he almost didn’t answer. He was still slightly embarrassed over the way they had parted last time. What had made him offer to stay with her? She had completely misread his offer of kindness. Surely she didn’t think he was interested in her, did she? She wasn’t his type. He usually went for someone a foot taller an
d more curvaceous, someone who had likely been homecoming queen in high school. Liza was more the yearbook editor sort.

  “I have to take this,” he told Molly. Her face went from pouty to interested.

  “Is it work? Can I go with you if you have to take someone down?” she whispered.

  He ignored her and left the table. He barely had his phone open before Liza yelled at him.

  “You had us followed?”

  “What?” he looked around to make sure no one had overheard her half of the conversation and then ducked outside to make sure he was alone.

  “You had us followed tonight.” This time she said it as more of a statement than a question.

  “You were followed tonight?”

  She paused. “It wasn’t you?”

  “No. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She told him how the dark sedan had followed them from the Xavier’s house.

  “How do you know he was following you?” he asked.

  “Because there are eight turns from their house to mine and I live on a cul-de-sac.”

  She was right. There was no reason for anyone to make that many turns with them unless he was following them. But who would follow her, and why?

  “Did you get your boyfriend to tell you about his trip?” he asked. He couldn’t keep the suspicion from his tone. Dirk Xavier was involved in this somehow. There were too many connecting factors for it to be a coincidence.

  “No,” she said. He smiled at her prickly tone. A movement caught him from the corner of his eye. He turned to see Molly with her nose pressed against the door.

  “Take me with you,” she mouthed.

  He turned away from her. He had to get away from this nutcase before he ended up hobbled and tied to a bed like a character in a Stephen King novel. “I’m coming over,” he informed Liza.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to debrief you.”

  ”You just did. I don’t know anything.”

  “Fine, then because I need to get away from my date before she chains me in her house and starts collecting dead skin and hair to make a sweater or something.”

  “Too much information but, okay, come over.” She paused. “Don’t bring her. I don’t need anyone else scary to know where I live.”

  “Be there as soon as I can.” He opened the door and Molly stumbled out a couple of steps before righting herself.

  “What is it? Is it a drug bust? Is there a standoff?”

  Clearly she watched too much television. “Most of what I do is boring paperwork,” he said. “Chasing money trails, checking credit card statements, and writing reports.” That was true, at least as far as his job with the FBI went. His other, more covert job, well, she didn’t need to know about that. “But I am going to have to go. I’m sorry. Let me take you home.”

  The disappointed pout made her lip protrude once again. She was unquestionably pretty, but now that he had spent an evening with her, she held no attraction for him. Why did he always choose the wrong girl? If someone lined up ten girls together, he would undoubtedly pick the prettiest and craziest without even trying. It was uncanny.

  In contrast, as soon as he arrived on Liza Benson’s doorstep, she met him wearing jogging pants and an old t-shirt. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose ponytail, and she wore a pair of glasses with square tortoiseshell frames. Like before she didn’t invite him in, she simply turned and headed toward the living room, leaving the front door open behind her. She sat on the couch and muted the television. He sat beside her and resisted the urge to put his feet on the coffee table. She rested her head on the cushion behind her and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

  “Is the date your girlfriend?” she asked at last.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in a long time. Just a long trail of bad dates.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like Marion, Puck’s girlfriend,” she added for clarification. “Puck is the best relationship she’s ever heard.”

  “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all year,” he said.

  She giggled and shoved his shoulder. “What’s wrong with Puck?”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “Okay, he’s different, but he treats Marion well.”

  “She’d better hide the silver as long as he’s around.”

  “No need. Her last boyfriend already pawned everything of value.”

  He slouched farther into the couch and stretched out a foot to rest it on the coffee table. He was so comfortable, he couldn’t help himself. She stretched out a hand to stop him and he froze with a sheepish expression.

  “Take your shoes off first,” she said, dropped her hand, and relaxed into the couch again.

  He took off his shoes and rested his feet on the coffee table. A minute later she propped her feet next to his.

  “Remember when dating was easy?” he asked.

  “No. I didn’t date much before Dirk, and when I did it was always horrible.”

  “Define horrible.”

  “I once had a date who took me to a fast food restaurant, made me pay, and then ditched me mid-date for his friends.”

  He winced. “That’s bad.”

  She nodded. “And that was the best date I had that year.” She smiled dreamily as she recalled her first date with Dirk. He had taken her to a Broadway play touring in their town and then to a fancy dinner. No wonder he seemed like a dream after all her bad experiences. Was there any doubt that she should try to hang onto him for all she was worth?

  “I had the same girlfriend all through college,” he said.

  “What happened?”

  “We wanted different things.” She had wanted to get married, and he had wanted to be a free agent, so to speak.

  “What was her name?”

  “Kelly.” He smiled, remembering Kelly. What was she doing now? He could of course look her up any time he wanted, but he was afraid to find out she was happily married with a half dozen kids. He had loved Kelly. Too late he realized she was the only girl he had ever loved. Some days he feared he would never love again. “Who do you think followed you tonight?”

  “This seems more like your area than mine,” she told him.

  “I was just wondering if you had any theories.”

  “I don’t, but it proves Dirk isn’t your guy.”

  “How so?”

  “Because he was being followed, too.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Liza. There isn’t one person involved here--there are two: one who leaves the messages and one who picks them up. I’m not sure which of those is Xavier yet, but it stands to reason the other one is the person who followed you tonight.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense, Agent Stone.”

  He gave her a disparaging look. “Call me Link.”

  “Fine, but it still doesn’t make sense. If they’re working together, why would the other guy follow us?”

  “Most likely he wasn’t following your boyfriend; he was following you. My investigation hasn’t exactly been secret, and who knows who Puck has told about it on those idiot chat websites he visits. By now half the state probably knows I’m helping you look into this.”

  She shuddered. He resisted the urge to put a companionable arm around her shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he felt so comfortable with her. Maybe it was because after he treated her so terribly at their first meeting there was nowhere for their relationship to go but up. Or maybe it was because her sweet and calm demeanor put him at ease. But as he studied her he thought of a third possibility. There was something about her that reminded him of Kelly, both in looks and in personality. Kelly had that same mix of independence and vulnerability that made him want to take care of her. Whatever the reason, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Liza alone and unprotected.

  “You need to start spying on your boyfriend,” he told her. She looked predictably outraged.

  “I will not spy on Dirk.”

&
nbsp; “If I’m wrong, then you’ll have nothing to lose.”

  “Nothing but his trust.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I’m not saying you have to plant a bug in his house. I’m merely suggesting that you gently question him and look in a few closets next time you’re at his place. We have nothing to go on. If we could find some hint of evidence, we might be able to rule him out as a suspect.” Or indict him as soon as he could convene a grand jury. He took the remote from the coffee table and began flipping through the channels. He had no idea why he felt so at home here, but she didn’t complain. Either she was too polite or she felt as comfortable with him as he did with her. The second possibility was more alarming than the first. In his line of work he couldn’t allow himself to get close to people. When he left his last job there had been no one to say goodbye to, no one he would miss. Everywhere he went he had to hold people at arm’s length. Why, then, was he sitting with someone who was somehow involved in an assassination plot? And why didn’t he object when she made him popcorn and brought him a soda?

  The answer was as obvious as it was pathetic; he was lonely. And as he looked at her happily munching popcorn as she watched TV, he thought maybe he wasn’t the only one who was glad for the company.

  Chapter 10

  Liza woke the next morning with her hand in a bowl of popcorn. It took her a moment to remember why she was lying on the couch with an afghan on top of her and her glasses on the cushion beside her. When she did, she sat up in alarm. Where was Link? Had he stayed here all night?

  “Link,” she called tentatively. There was no answer. She didn’t remember falling asleep, and she certainly didn’t remember taking off her glasses or covering herself with a blanket, so he must have done those things. But he was nowhere in sight. A quick check of the door told her it was locked, and his car wasn’t in her drive so at some point he went home. She only hoped it wasn’t so late that it would appear indecent. What would her neighbors think? What would Dirk say?

  That one didn’t matter so much because there was no way she could tell him. What could she say? Hey, Dirk, a new friend may or may not have slept over last night. His name is Link, but don’t be upset; he’s just a friend. We met because he’s pretty sure you’re an assassin. So tell me more about Cleveland. She shook her head to clear it. This was one of those occasions where silence was golden.