by Rose Pressey
I’d let Marc know too.
“If this man is really following you, then I should walk you home,” Dangerfield said.
He didn’t mention my alleged date and I didn’t bring it up either. After this crazy night, I just wanted to go home. Dangerfield walked along beside me as we headed toward my building. A car honked in the distance, traffic swooshed by, and music slipped out from the bars. A lacy overlay of clouds covered the moon.
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow and see what I can find out.” I adjusted the purse strap on my shoulder.
Dangerfield watched my lips again. He was easily distracted. “I’ll do the same and let you know what I find out.”
We reached my building and Dangerfield held the front door open for me. He followed me as I crossed the hall to my apartment. We stepped into my building. It was quiet and I figured Mrs. Perkins was already fast asleep. She was a light sleeper though and one loud racket and she’d be knocking on my door telling me to keep down the noise.
I pulled out my keys and shoved them into the lock. I turned around and faced Dangerfield. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.”
Without notice, Dangerfield leaned down to kiss me. Apparently, he thought this was a date. I knew I shouldn’t have worn the black dress.
His lips hadn’t even touched mine when the sound of footsteps echoed behind Dangerfield.
“What’s going on out here? Is this a brothel?” Mrs. Perkins asked.
Dangerfield turned to face Mrs. Perkins. She eyed him up and down. “You’re the one on TV.”
He smiled. “Yes, Bill Dangerfield.”
“I don’t like your show,” she said.
He laughed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Mrs. Perkins didn’t budge. She wasn’t impressed with Dangerfield. I was sure she wasn’t impressed with anyone. I suppose that was what made her eccentric.
Finally, Dangerfield said, “I suppose I should go.”
It was probably a good idea that he did leave without that kiss.
Dangerfield smiled. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I nodded. “See you.”
Mrs. Perkins quirked an eyebrow. She motioned over her shoulder. “You have a package waiting for you.”
“Thank you. Good night, Mrs. Perkins,” I said.
She followed me to the mailbox. “Did you order something?”
I pulled the small box from my mail slot. “No, I don’t know what it is.”
I clutched the package and a few envelopes in my arms. When I reached my door, I didn’t turn to see if Mrs. Perkins was still behind me. I already knew that she was. It was time for her to go back to sleep.
“Good night, Mrs. Perkins,” I said, as I closed the door.
I placed my package and envelopes on the small table by the door. After studying the thing again, I finally ripped into the box.
When I peered inside, I spotted what I knew was voodoo. I’d seen this stuff in Courtney’s shop. Something was in the little purple pouch. A part of me wanted to just toss the thing away, but another part wanted to know what was inside. Okay, that part of me had to know what was inside.
I picked up the small bag and pulled it open. Inside was what looked like a chicken’s foot. Who had sent this? Since there was no return address, I might never know.
Chapter 7
I’d thought my brush with voodoo was done. Recently, someone had left a hex at my front door. I’d figured out who was doing it, but had I been right? If it wasn’t the same person, then I had no idea who would be sending this stuff now.
I needed to call Courtney for her opinion, although she would freak out as soon as I told her. After turning the object over in my hands, I tossed it back into the box. I didn’t know exactly what it was meant to do, but I didn’t want to touch it anymore.
A knock came on the door and I froze. Who would be stopping by my place at this time of night? If that was Mrs. Perkins wanting to know what I’d received in the mail, I didn’t know what I’d do. It probably wasn’t Courtney because she usually called first. I glanced down at the package, which caused me to freak out all over again.
The knock rattled the door again, the noise booming even louder. If she wasn’t ticked enough already, Mrs. Perkins really would be angry now. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to answer the door or she would be even madder. I sucked in a deep breath and wrapped my hand around the door knob. I should be braver than this, but apparently I wasn’t, not after all that had happened.
Instead of opening the door, I leaned in, pressing my ear against the wood. My heart thumped faster. Could the person on the other side of the door hear my heavy breathing? If I ignored the knock would the person just go away? It could be the nutcase who had sent the weird voodoo stuff. A lump settled in my stomach. I hated this nervous feeling. Why couldn’t the person just go away?
“Charley, it’s me, Dangerfield. Can you please open the door?”
What was he doing back? The flash of Dangerfield almost kissing me popped into my head. No way had he come all the way back just to kiss me, right? No, Dangerfield wouldn’t do something like that. At least I didn’t think he would.
“Charley, are you there? I know you’re there at the door,” he said.
How did he know I was leaning against the door? I swung the door open. The sexy grin Dangerfield had had on his face when he’d left a short time ago was now replaced with a tense frown. It didn’t look as if he’d come back for a kiss. He held up his finger indicating that he needed a couple seconds to catch his breath.
“Did you run all the way back here?”
When he finally caught his breath, he said, “Yeah, I wasn’t too far away though. I had to run as fast as possible.”
“Do you mind telling me why you ran as fast as possible?” I asked.
“I saw the black car. At least I think it was the same car,” he said. “I think you need to come with me.”
I frowned. “Why? What have you done now?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. I need to show you something.”
I quirked an eyebrow. Was this a trick?
“I’m being sincere. This is important,” he said.
I supposed I had to trust him. Well, more like I needed to trust him. That was a big difference, but something I should do. All I knew right now was he was talking about a car.
“You’re not talking about the black car from the jazz club, are you? It can’t be. You found that black car already? Did you make a phone call to someone to help you locate it? You really are fast.” Now I was jealous.
“I didn’t find it on purpose.” He flashed a crooked smile that hinted at his wild side.
Well, that made me slightly less jealous then. After all, Dangerfield was still my competition. He might try to act differently, but that didn’t change that fact. Now I had to know what he meant and how he’d found the car.
I nodded. “Okay, show me the car.”
We headed over to the door. What could cause Dangerfield to be this frantic about seeing a black car? I was almost afraid to find out. If he was freaked out, then I was probably sure I would be freaked out too. But I doubted he’d discovered the black car Matthew had told us about.
Dangerfield took my hand in his and pulled me out of my apartment.
“You really are in a hurry. Is the car on fire?” I chuckled.
He quirked a brow.
“The car really is on fire?” I asked, halfway seriously.
“No, just come with me,” he said.
The apartment door to my left opened and I knew I was in trouble now. Mrs. Perkins stomped out from her place.
She glared at us. “I can’t believe I have to deal with this at my age. How am I supposed to get any sleep with this kind of noise?” Mrs. Perkins yelled.
We hadn’t made any noise other than Dangerfield knocking on the door. But she thought my breathing was too loud.
“Sorry we disturbed you, Mrs. Perkins,” I said over my shoulder.
She would probably follow us out the door. She might say she hated the noise, but I knew she secretly wanted to know what was going on.
Dangerfield and I reached the door and he opened it wide. He motioned for me to follow his lead.
When we moved out onto the steps, Dangerfield pointed. “The car was right there.”
I stared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “You think I am imagining things, but I really saw the car.”
I held my hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
He pointed at the street. “I was down by the French restaurant when I looked back toward your place.”
I stared at him. “And then what happened?”
“The black car was in front of your building. I thought about the car from the jazz club and decided to come back for a quick look.”
“What did you see?”
“When I got closer to the vehicle, I realized there was a man and woman in the car. They fit the description that Matthew gave us,” he said.
My eyes widened. “And then what happened?”
Dangerfield moved closer to the street. “I stepped even closer to the car. They looked me right in the eyes.”
I swallowed hard. “Was it them? Forget that. You don’t know for sure what they looked like, so of course you don’t know if it was the same couple.”
We moved down to the sidewalk, looking for the car. I peered down the street to my right and then to the left. I couldn’t see anything that looked like a black car. Just the usual sight of traffic, people, and parked cars.
“If it was here then they must have left as soon as you saw them,” I said.
“Which makes me even more suspicious. They looked right at me,” he said. “So they definitely saw me and then saw me go into your place.”
I couldn’t believe that this had happened. Chills ran down my spine when I thought about the car and the phone call I’d gotten asking me to go to the jazz club.
“Do you think it was the same car?” I asked.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe it wasn’t, but it seems too much of a coincidence that a car like that would be parked in front of your building. I think it is connected somehow.”
I hated to even think about what it meant if he was right. It was something I couldn’t ignore though. As I’d learned earlier, ignoring something wouldn’t make it go away. Dangerfield hadn’t gone away when I ignored his knocking on my door. I was glad that I hadn’t ignored him now. I wanted to know that someone was outside my building. Had the couple Matthew seen really been at my place? Were they really waiting for me? They could have been going to my door or try to break in for all I knew.
Dangerfield and I headed back to the apartment. I knew Dangerfield had seen a car, but was it really the same one from the jazz club? After all, someone had called me to come to the jazz club. I definitely didn’t like the idea of a murderer hanging out in front of my place. Now I really needed to find out who had that car.
“It was a good thing I looked back when I did,” he said.
I shivered at the thought. Maybe they would have broken in if he hadn’t looked back. Dangerfield was probably thinking that too.
Mrs. Perkins was standing in the doorway in her pink robe and slippers, tapping her foot. At least I didn’t have to worry about Dangerfield kissing me with Mrs. Perkins chaperoning the apartment hallway. It was like having my grandmother watching to make sure the boy didn’t get fresh. I didn’t want to argue with Mrs. Perkins, so I would have to let it go. I could have just invited Dangerfield inside, but did I really want to go there?
“Sorry if I scared you,” Dangerfield said.
I shook my head. “I’m glad you let me know.”
“I’ll let you know if I see the car again,” he said.
I nodded. “Thanks for coming back.”
He stared for a moment like he didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to stay or go. Probably go. Yes, definitely go. Enough of my internal debate, I had to get back to the moment.
“Be careful out there,” I said as Dangerfield walked toward the door.
“Bye,” he said softly.
“Good night, Mrs. Perkins,” I said.
Once inside I headed for my purse to retrieve my cell. I still needed to call Courtney. As I pulled the phone out of my purse, it rang. I peered at the screen expecting to see Courtney’s number. But it wasn’t a number I recognized. I touched the phone’s screen and answered.
“Hello?” I asked reluctantly.
“Is this Chase Charley?” the woman asked. A thread of panic sounded in her voice.
“Yes,” I responded with caution.
“I’m glad you answered,” she said.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like this call. If it was a telemarketer at this hour, I would be angry, but a telemarketer would be better than some other bad news. “Who is this?” I asked.
Not that this woman would answer me honestly, but I had to ask just the same.
She paused and I wondered if she was going to answer at all. Was she thinking of what lie to tell me?
“My name is Haley Swanson.”
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
“No you don’t know me, but my husband was trying to get in touch with you.” Her voice sounded as if it was full of panic.
“Who is your husband?” I asked.
“His name was Timothy Swanson.”
I almost dropped the phone. Now I knew what this was about.
She released a deep breath, and then said, “He tried to call you last night.”
“My husband was murdered last night.” Her voice trembled.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. “Why did he call me?”
“I need to meet with you.” Her voice grew louder.
This call got stranger by the minute.
“Isn’t this something we can discuss over the phone?”
“No. I’m afraid someone might be listening.”
I looked over my shoulder as if someone might be in the room with me. Just the same old stuff. Sofa, coffee table, stationary bike in the corner of the room that I needed to use again.
“Who would be listening?” I asked.
“That’s something we can discuss when you meet me. What do you say? Can you meet me?” she pressed.
I hoped I was making the right decision. How would I know until it was too late though? If I met her and something went wrong, it would be too late to back out.
I sighed. “Yes, where would you like to meet?”
“How about Café Down The Street? Do you know the place?”
“It’s by the La Maison Hotel and Lafayette Park?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s the one,” she said.
“Okay. I can meet you.” I still wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. But I had to know what this was all about. This woman had the key to what Timothy had wanted to tell me and Dangerfield.
“Can you meet me within the hour?” Desperation filled her words.
As much as I wanted to know what she had to say, there was no way I was going to meet her tonight. “I’m sorry, but I can’t meet you tonight. It would have to be in the morning,” I said.
“Are you sure?” she pleaded.
“I just can’t come tonight, but I can meet you early in the morning. What time is good for you?”
“The earlier the better,” she said.
“How about eight?”
She sighed and then said, “Fine. I’ll see you then. Please don’t stand me up.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
I had no idea how she had gotten my number. Tomorrow that would be the first thing I found out.
Chapter 8
Maybe I should have met her last night because I got little sleep. I kept wondering what she wanted. The apprehension wouldn’t go away so I got up at six, did a little yog
a, had a fruit and vegetable smoothie, and dressed for my day. I’d called Courtney last night and left her a message. She was probably getting used to receiving crazy messages from me.
I tried to focus on a book while I waited until it was time to go, but it was useless because I kept reading the same sentence over and over. Finally, at seven fifteen, I decided I’d go ahead. I grabbed my purse and keys. When I stepped out into the hallway, Mrs. Perkins was standing right by my door. Did she ever sleep?
I clutched my chest. “What are you doing, Mrs. Perkins?”
She peeked over my shoulder and into my apartment. I moved to my left, blocking her view.
“Did the man find you last night?” she asked.
I furrowed my brow. “What man? The one I was talking to?” She had to mean Dangerfield.
“No, it wasn’t the TV man. There was another man who was knocking on your door around midnight. When I came to the door, he left.” She folded her arms in front of her waist.
“I never heard anyone knock. Are you sure he was at my door?”
She placed her hand on her hip. “I’m not senile, dear. I know which door is yours and I saw him in front of it.”
I stepped out into the hallway and pulled my door shut. “Maybe he had the wrong apartment.”
She shook her head. “He looked as if he knew what he was doing.”
I wasn’t so sure she could tell that just by looking at him, but I wouldn’t argue. I shoved the key into the lock and secured my door. Just in case Mrs. Perkins was right about the strange man, I didn’t want anyone in my place. She headed back toward her door as I marched toward the building’s entrance.
“Just be careful who you invite to your place in the middle of the night,” she warned with a wave of her finger.
With that she shut her door. There was no point arguing with her that I hadn’t invited anyone. She’d already made up her mind.
I got into my 1984 red convertible Porsche 944 and headed straight toward the café where I was meeting Haley Swanson. The main reason I’d gotten this car was because of Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles. It had been love at first sight… for him and the car. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm to Billy Ocean, another one of my favorite 80s singers. Once near the hotel, I lucked out and found a spot about a block away, so I whipped the convertible into the nearby lot and hopped out.
