~ ~ ~
Several days later, Wesley was driving his red convertible to the barbershop—he'd decided it was finally time to trim that hair that was threatening to become a mop on his head. His left arm extended over the wheel, his right rested on the clutch as he cruised along the treelined highway headed from his Saratoga cottage to the city. Wesley smiled at the almost empty road. It was nice to just be driving. Sometimes it calmed his nerves. He was relaxed and enjoying the drive when his sharp blue eyes narrowed in speculation—it had been nice and uncrowded until a rusty yellow sedan pulled right in front of him and messed up his awesome view of the tree lines. His foot applied the brake as his car came dangerously close to the sedan. His face held a scowl that he hoped his former head engineer, Jerry Weinman, would see. But his thirst for recompense was let down when he saw that Jerry was so engrossed in what appeared to be a heated discussion with the person in the passenger seat that he failed to even notice he’d cut off a vehicle.
Wesley and Jerry had never gotten along. Sure, Jerry had impressed him enough in his interview that he had hired him as lead engineer for the Drake project, but after that things had just gone downhill. He was competent in his job, Wesley had to admit that, but he was just plain creepy. Wesley always felt he had an ulterior motive. It also didn’t help that Jerry had hired his friend Johnny who had taken his girl from him. From that point on Wesley had decided he and Jerry were definitely not friends.
As the sedan whipped around a corner, it turned enough for Wesley to identify the passenger—Jonathan Morgan. Jerry was a terrible driver. Johnny better not be as bad behind the wheel. All he needed was another reason to worry about Katherine.
Several minutes later the beat-up yellow car veered from Wesley’s vision as it turned off towards the West end of the city. Wesley’s eyes followed where their car had turned off, when he suddenly jerked the wheel of his car and took the same exit; his pulse sped up as his tires threatened to lose grip on the asphalt, his car skidding to the left. For a moment he thought he understood why Jerry drove the way he did—the adrenaline rush was enough for him to consider it himself. At last the spinning wheels took hold and then his foot found the accelerator and pushed down until Johnny’s head was again visible above the worn blue seat of the shabby sedan. “Maybe I shouldn’t be driving Katherine either.” He chuckled under his breath as he navigated his convertible to an inconspicuous spot several car lengths behind Johnny and his boss.
Wesley’s thoughts raged on. Where were they headed? He decided it was up to him to find out, for Katherine’s sake. Or so he told himself with a smirk. His appointment at the barbershop could wait. In reality his curiosity was piqued as to what Kate’s boyfriend was doing with his boss. The two didn’t strike Wesley as the type to just be going on a date together. The blurred outlines of San Francisco’s downtown high-rises came into focus as the two cars drove forward.
The buildings loomed and grew until they became walls on either side. An easy left, a patch of straight, and soon Wesley recognized the route as one he had taken many times to the university when he had picked up Katherine for a tennis game or dinner. Too bad she’d graduated— getting her out of the dorms had been the perfect excuse for him to take her out. His mouth curled down. He had lost something of great value.
Wesley impatiently tapped his hands on his steering wheel, waiting as a man dressed in a blue business suit crossed the street. Their eyes met briefly through the windshield and a spark of familiarity which failed to ignite into full recognition passed between the two. And then the light was green and the man had disappeared through an alley in the narrow street. Finally, thought Wesley as he stepped on the gas again and forced his car into a sharp right turn where he’d last seen the yellow sedan.
“Damn that bloody idiot!” The hissed words escaped Grant’s mouth as he slammed on his brakes at the next light, which turned red to allow the same man to cross the street. The man had obviously cut through the alley to reach the corner more quickly—ahead of Wesley.
His eyes followed the gait of the man, rested on his white hair. Recognition struck—the man was Esquire George, an estate auctioneer who happened to own an eyesore of a house next to his cottage. What is he doing in town? Was there an auction going on he didn’t know about? He always kept up on estate sales, one could get find such good deals . . .
And then his thoughts returned to the university. They were closer now, almost to it. Why would Jerry be headed towards the university unless it had something to do with Phillip Drake? Sure, it wasn’t the only possibility of them being in the area, but it was certainly plausible. He had to know why they were there.
A flash of yellow glinted into his eyes as the sun reflected off his quarry turning onto Fulton Street. Must’ve been the only ray that escaped from those clouds too. He followed suit, letting another car come between his and Jerry’s car. This would’ve been a good time to have a more modest car, he thought to himself as he noticed the appreciative eyes of a tall blonde woman moving across his vehicle. A knot of apprehension settled in his stomach, not from the hope that those feminine eyes wouldn’t move to him next, but it was the notion that was growing in him by the second that Johnny and Jerry were mixed up in something unpleasant.
Wesley mentally listed the information he’d uncovered so far. First, Johnny had acted very strangely at the beach the other day. Now he appeared to be arguing with his boss . . . and they were mighty close to Drake’s workplace. And Wesley's friend, the district attorney, had called him the other day to chat—told him the police weren't sure Drake's death was a suicide. What the hell does Katherine see in this guy?
And now Jerry was driving like a snail. Why? Were they still arguing inside, or was he deliberately trying to avoid suspicion? The eerie feeling of a stalker analyzing his victim’s next move crept over him. Slowing down dramatically, he pulled into the adjacent alleyway to escape detection. He watched as Jerry stop the car in front of an old dilapidated building with a small sign in front claiming it for the university art studio. Then Johnny emerged from the car, looking especially cranky, and headed through the small alleyway that led to the art department door, and Jerry drove off, throwing up a cloud of dust from the filthy pavement in the process.
Apparently alleys are the preferred means of travel, Grant thought dryly. Johnny didn’t waste any time and slipped inside the building, like a sly alley cat. Wesley hesitated. He didn’t want to leave his car alone, but he was curious as to what Johnny was doing in that dive. Scoping out the action from the car might be the best bet, he decided, since leaving his car in an area that couldn’t exactly be described as a thriving economic environment might not be a smart idea.
He settled himself more comfortably into his custom leather seats to wait. Several minutes ticked by slowly. The air was cool and not too fresh, with the buildings doing little to provide heat but only serving to block any airflow a breeze might have offered. A fly buzzed loudly around the steering wheel, trying to land on Wesley’s fingers. He impatiently swatted at it, only to be successful in honking the horn a couple times; he hoped that blonde girl wasn’t anywhere close to him now, or he’d have some dodging to do.
From across the street came the loud chirping of a nesting bird. Several cars drove by. A boy rode past on his bicycle, no doubt playing hooky from school. Wesley shifted restlessly. This was bloody boring. He felt bad for cops who had to do stakeouts if this was what they had to endure. No wonder they spent so much time buying coffee and doughnuts—they needed something to keep them busy! He could use some coffee right now himself. A hot cup from that diner downtown.
He impatiently got out of the car and went around to the convertible’s back to put up the top and dig a gray knit sweater from the trunk. At least it was something to do. He took his sweet time in case anyone was watching and twenty minutes later he was back in the car again, more impatient and flustered than before.
An old gray Chevrolet drove past slowly, as though the driver was s
earching for directions. Suddenly the car bucked to a stop and the sound of the engine died. In spite of himself Wesley smiled—someone obviously didn’t know how to drive and killed the clutch directly in front of the art building. He craned his neck to see better.
The car actually looked just like Katherine’s. It started again, pulled forward, backed up, went forward again with only a slight angle change, and finally back once more as it pulled into a parallel parking spot between a pickup and another old Chevy. All his demeaning thoughts about what an amateur driver the person must be disappeared when a beautiful brunette toting an oversized blue handbag emerged from the car, looking a bit flustered.
Katherine! Who cared if she could drive a car good or not when she looked like that. Her lack of skill at parking was forgotten as soon as she exited the car. Wesley bumped his head on the window as he tried to get out before opening the door. He jerked on the door handle and almost fell out onto the pavement.
“Kate!” he called as he fumbled his key into the lock, determined to lock his baby before deserting it alone in this part of town. She had already entered the building and was apparently out of earshot. Is she meeting Johnny here? This wasn’t something he was going to just sit by and watch. Who knew what that creep had up his sleeve? His trust of Johnny met a new low as a thousand dark possibilities ran through his mind. He ran across the street, barely avoiding collision with the red pizza delivery truck which honked loudly at his back.
Full of jitters, he finally made it across the street to the art building and entered the shabby interior, went down several steps into the basement, and was greeted by a short, narrow hallway with concrete floors. Gesture drawings done in charcoal plastered all over the walls completed the scene. Definitely the art building. Heck, Johnny almost seemed to fit into this seedy place.
The first door to the left was propped open and he could hear a strong voice inside. So his neighbor was doing an auction! He stepped inside the room; his height put him a full head above the small crowd and allowed him to see Philip Drake’s belongings.
Katherine’s hand raised in a bid for a drafting table. He recognized the back of Johnny’s head as he raised his hand bidding against his fiancée. Why were they bidding against each other? Maybe they hadn’t arranged a meeting here after all. She didn’t even turn as she again bid on the table. His mind in a turmoil, he leaned against the brick wall. He would just wait and see what was going on . . . maybe bid for the desk as well, since everyone seemed to want it. Besides, he had a great view of Katherine’s form from here. Was that a new red skirt she was wearing?
Retribution Page 13
