Fit To Curve (An Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery Book 1)

by Bud Crawford

  "Oh, that is terrible." Elaine covered her mouth. "Mr. Alden was here yesterday, using our network and the library. I helped him. He seemed very nice."

  "Yes," James said, "yes, he was, and really putting himself out for me. That was why he was here, I expect. He said he had to look some things up." James stepped forward, Elaine reached for her glasses, but stopped and leaned back in her chair. "And this is my problem. In the middle of this tragedy with Harold, I still don't know the answer to my question."

  "I see," said Elaine.

  James leaned away. "It could wait, of course, it isn't a life and death issue. But I'd hate for his work to be lost. He told a friend he had almost worked it out. And I do want to get an answer eventually. I wonder if there's anyone here he might have talked to? Did he say anything to you?"

  "No," Elaine said. "I just helped him log on and opened the library and showed him the copier. He asked me questions about things like that, but he never said what he was working on." Elaine looked down at a screen in front of her. "Miss Markey is here, let me buzz her. I know she knew him personally, she was at the Charlotte office before she transferred here. She's our Director, she'll know if anybody will."

  "If it isn't too much trouble, thank you, that would be great."

  Elaine pulled on her headset, pressed a button and spoke into the microphone. "Miss Markey? Hi. James Richter is here, he's the client Mr. Alden was working on yesterday. Yes. Okay, I'll tell him."

  She looked up at James. "She'll be right out, Mr. Richter. I didn't get a chance to tell her … "

  "I know, I heard. Let me tell her. You said that they were friends. I don't mind," James said, "and sometimes a stranger is best."

  They heard a click of heels coming up the hall, soft but still percussive, quick sharp points against the carpet. James turned to the sound. Above coffee-colored stiletto heels, bare legs, a knee-length a-line skirt, and a camel blazer buttoned over a yellow blouse. Her curled red hair was pulled back, twirled into a low bun held by a weapon's-grade steel hair pin. She stopped where the hall met the lobby.

  "I'm Madison Markey, Mr. Richter. Why don't we go to my office. Hold calls, Elaine, please." She turned and led James down the hall. She stopped at the last door, pulled it open, and gestured him to enter. She pulled the door shut, and snapped the bolt closed. James tried to remember if anybody had ever done that to him before. "To be sure we're not interrupted, Mr. Richter," she said. "Sit, please." She brushed past him around the wide brazilwood desk. She sat on the edge of her chair, elbows on the desk, chin in her hands. "Now, sir, what can I do?"

  "James. Please, call me James." He smiled at her, and at the image of her long taut legs rubbing against each other as she led him down the hall. Her office was newly put together. The leather chair she sat in matched a loveseat by the huge window. Looking down into the parking lot, James could see his Jeep. Looking up, he saw the ridges of the Smoky Mountains stepping three-four-five behind each other, the farthest ones blending into the clouds. The rug pile here was deeper than the lobby and darker in color. The oblong desk had been handmade, recently, expensively.

  "Okay, James. I'm Madison. Tell me why you're here." She leaned back into her chair, clasping the ends of the arm rests.

  "In part, I'm afraid, to bring bad news. My broker from Charlotte, Harold Alden, came to Asheville on vacation. Since I was going to be here at the same time, for the gem show, we arranged to meet, to discuss a question I had about my account. We had tried to meet in Charlotte, but couldn't make our schedules work." He stopped and looked at Madison.

  "None of this is bad news, James. I know Harold well. He was very dedicated to his clients, and did not mind accommodating you, I'm sure."

  "Harold had a heart attack this morning, Madison. He died a little before noon." Her expression did not change. She looked straight at him. James said, "I cannot tell you how sorry I am to bring this news."

  "Yesterday. I saw him. He seemed good. I know his heart was weak, I think he was planning to have surgery. His stamina was always limited." Madison covered her face with her hands. "Please, give me a minute to take this in."

  "Should I leave? I didn't know you and Harold were friends. My business can wait."

  Madison looked up at him across the desk. She smoothed her skirt against her thighs. "No, James. You're here. Death is the first fact of life. There's no point being maudlin, or seizing up about things that can't be changed." She closed her eyes for a slow count of three, then opened them. She ran her tongue around her lips. "Tell me, what was Harold trying to do for you?'

  "You're sure this is okay?" He pulled his head back an inch and tilted it slightly. She nodded. "Well, three months ago I noticed something odd on the statement for my managed-fund account. I checked back over the previous year, and saw the same strange thing had been happening for about twenty months. Next month came, same thing again, and I called Harold. It was getting on to tax-return season for him, and I was busy selling a business. We couldn't find a time that worked. Then we realized we'd both be in Asheville this week, and arranged to meet here."

  "Alright," Madison shifted in her chair, crossing her legs, "and you did meet?"

  "Yes, Tuesday, at a coffee shop downtown. I showed him my statements. At first he was kind of dismissive, then he saw what I meant, but he couldn't explain it. He said he'd need to do some research. He came here, I think."

  "He did. Elaine helped him. I wasn't in the office, but I dug out some additional information for him and brought it to his motel. He was with his wife and some friends. I just stayed for a minute." She recrossed her legs, and leaned against the other side of her high-backed chair. James' glance came quickly up from the flash of tanned thighs to meet her eyes.

  "What did you bring him, if you don't mind my asking?" He leaned forward, pressing his palms against Madison's desk.

  "I don't mind, but it can't have had anything to do with your question. It was details of annual reports for Metrocor. Nothing about your account, or any customer account. All Metrocor company stuff." She stood up and walked to the window, the woods that climbed the hill were bright with fresh leaves. Harold turned in his chair to look at her silhouette, dark against the sun-washed window. She turned towards him. "I'm sorry I can't help. I'll ask Elaine, she may know what files he was accessing. There might be a clue, but I'd have to do a little checking. The best thing is to take this back to Charlotte, they'll be better positioned…"

  James stood to face her. "Yes, I expect you're right. I was hoping not to start again from scratch. If Harold had made notes, or talked to somebody here, I thought I'd see what I could find out before the trail got cold."

  Madison took a step towards him. "He probably did have notes. Have you asked his wife?"

  "She's pretty distraught, and the police have sealed the room, so there's no way to check, until they're done."

  "Police? Why police?"

  "Standard practice, apparently, for a sudden death, until they've verified his medical history and done an autopsy.

  Madison took another step, and turned her back to James. "Would you mind?" He stood and pulled up the shoulders of her blazer as she extended her arms down and back. She took the jacket from him and tossed it over a chair. "Thank you, it's really too warm in here for a wool coat." She walked past James, turning to face him perched against the front of her desk.

  "What sort of company data?" James asked, "income or expenses?" She said nothing for several seconds. He lowered his gaze. Her blouse, no longer masked by the blazer, was tight against her chest, four buttons undone, gaping as she breathed in.

  "Well, all of that. It was a full-detail general ledger report, everything on both sides." She smiled as his eyes met hers. "Month by month, every account, all year, all the notes, all transactions." She placed her hands on the desk behind her. "What do you think he was looking for?" Her brassiere was red, lacy, now half-exposed. Her skirt was most of the way up her thighs. She kicked her shoes off, tilted her head.

 
; James stood still in front of her. "I think I know, but I needed him to see it. I didn't want to plant my idea in his head." James took a step forward, pushed her shoes under the desk with the toe of his boot. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I was after proof, independent confirmation." He touched the top of her throat with his index finger. He slid the tip softly down her neck, between her breasts, stopping at the center of her bra.

  "Death," she said, letting out a slow lung-full of air. "And sex. I guess it's a species survival thing." She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled his vest down behind him. She began to unsnap the front of his shirt while he was extricating his arms. She unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, grabbed it behind her neck and pulled it off. She reached back to unclasp her bra and dropped it down her arms. She pulled James' head between her breasts as she unclasped the giant buckle of his belt. She pushed off the edge of the desk to reach to unbutton his jeans, and pulled them down. She felt his hands fumble for the clasp of her skirt, and kicked it free when he had undone it. She enjoyed the sudden intake of breath as he realized she was naked under the skirt, altogether naked now. She pulled away from his embrace, crossed to the sofa by the window and sat facing him.

  She swallowed a laugh at the lovely comedy of his transit, jeans and briefs now at his knees, twisted at the top of his boots. "Come to me, handsome cowboy," she said, opening her arms and legs to his approach. She wrapped herself around, and dragged him to his knees.

  ~

  Madison lifted her hips to pull free, and pushed to her feet. She stood straddling James, lying on his back on the soft rug. His eyes were open, but unfocused. His chest rose and fell in a quick uneven rhythm. The sofa, the chair, the desk, and then the rug — no wonder he's gasping. Stamina, she thought, cannot be over-valued. She snagged her skirt, bra and blouse and went into the half-bath beside the bookshelf. Two minutes later, wiped and brushed and dressed, she returned to James. He had rolled onto his knees and was now pushing against a chair to a stand. Pretty comical, she thought, but the straighter my face, the funnier it is. Hold it in, girl. She reached under the desk for her shoes, and stepped into them.

  "Help yourself to the sink," she said. "I've got to meet an associate here in about eight minutes, so don't take too long." James pulled up his jeans, crossed the room, and closed the bathroom door behind him. Madison picked up his shirt and vest and stretched them over the back of the client chair. She straightened the other furniture and scuffed away the impressed image of James' backside from the pile of the rug. She put on her suit jacket. All clear, she thought. I'll email David, I think, then hang around here until he answers.

  James looked at his reflection in the little mirror over the sink. He was flushed, most of the mousse was gone. When he was eleven, one of his mother's bridge partners had taken him on a ride like this. He had pretended, after that, to let a half-a-dozen older women 'initiate' him. But except that first time, and now today, he'd always pulled the strings. Pretty weird, being eleven again. Not bad, not bad in anyway at all. He turned off the light, came back into Madison's office, and pulled on his shirt and vest. She sat behind the desk, turning the pages of a report. She looked up and smiled.

  "All ready? Good." She didn't stand up. "We push this off to one side, of course. Two ships passing, right?"

  "Sure. They may pass again, they may not." He matched her tone pretty well, he thought.

  "About your business with Harold, I will see if there's anything I can find out. And I'll send a memo to David Ickes who runs the office in Charlotte. Do you know him? No? I'll brief him so you don't have to start from zero. Tell me your numbers and e-mail so I can get in touch. When will you be back in Charlotte?"

  He gave her his card, wrote the cabin phone number on the back. "I'll be back by the weekend, I'm pretty sure. There are a couple things I'm working on here that could take longer, but I don't expect they will. Monday, for certain. I'll leave you to your meeting, your associate." He turned to the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. "Thank you. I really appreciate you fitting me in." He smiled and bowed from the waist. "Ciao, Madison."

  Madison watched the door close behind him. She counted slowly to ten, time for the door to settle shut and for James to get to the lobby, then began to laugh. She rocked forward in her chair, head between her knees, rocking from side to side. So adorable, my little cowboy, so adorable, my not-really-little-at-all cowboy, all tangled in your drawers and your boots. Such a determined boy. She sat up, and shook her head, and dragged her fingers through her hair. Okay, get back to business now, you randy slut. You had your afternoon adventure. Let's make a dime for Metrocor, and a penny for me. Poor Harold, we have some memories, too, don't we? Wherever you are, wherever you're going, remember me, numbers man.

  She pulled the keyboard out, woke up the screen, clicked new message, and began typing: "david, dear…"

  chapter twenty-third

  Marti woke as the sun set. She looked out the west-facing window, the huge orange sun bright in her face. She was cold. The blanket had slipped off and it was chilly in the room. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, up and down her body, trying to work up a little warmth. She stood, shivering, put on the windbreaker she'd taken off when she came inside. There was a little electric heater under the window, she turned it on. She went into the bathroom, pulled her dress up, panties down, and peed. Funny, she thought, how that always makes you feel warmer. She filled a kettle, set it on the electric stove. Cup of tea will help.

  Where the hell is James? It's almost seven, she got here at three something. Must have needed the sleep. I guess I feel better, should have got under the covers. Let's go check out the view while there's still a little sun. I never got to see anything yesterday, came and went in the dark. She shivered again, not from cold. James is good, she thought, remembering. Can't see going back to Seth, while there's an actual man available. It's temporary, though, she reminded herself.

  She walked towards the sun, arms clasped around her, along a dirt trail going uphill. She could see glimpses of other cabins through the trees. James said there were about twenty of them. The air was clear, even in the gathering dusk. The sun was sinking below the ridge on the other side of the valley. She had gone a hundred feet maybe, when she stopped suddenly. There was a clearing, with a fantastic view across and down into the valley. Blinded by the huge red half-disk of the sun, she didn't at first see how sharp a drop it was. She shielded her eyes with her hand, inched forward and looked down. Hundreds of feet she guessed, there should be a railing. Well this was the woods, I guess they don't have railings, you just gotta watch yourself. Probably bears and rattlesnakes, too. Maybe now would be a good time to go back to the cabin, maybe a good time to drive back to Asheville if James doesn't show up pretty soon.

  The kettle was screeching as she opened the door. She found a mug and a teabag and poured. There was a little food in the fridge, she was relieved to see, some bread and cheese, and apples. And some cans in the cupboard: tuna-fish, soup, beef stew. She was starving. The headlights of a car flashed through the suddenly dark woods. She watched it park alongside her car, well technically, Alistair's car. She turned on the flood light over the door as James got out. Lord love a duck, what is the man wearing? Looks like a rodeo ringmaster.

  "Hey, Marti, saw your car. You hungry? I got a pizza and some beer in Asheville." James didn't seem surprised to see her. Pizza and beer, that was cool. Maybe today would end up better than it started. No way it could get worse.

  She told James about Harold, but he already knew. That was why he was so late, he'd been talking to the police. They wanted to talk to her, too, he said. Tomorrow she'd ask Alistair what to do. When they'd finished supper, they made love. Not crazy like last night, calmly, sweetly, she thought. She set the alarm for four, so she could be back to help with breakfast. Alistair was probably worried sick, she should have called. James was asleep before she was. She pulled her front snug against his back and watched Harold Alden's face, puffy an
d flushed and dead, get smaller and move farther away. She slid easily again into the darkness.

  ~

  Geoff pulled the cork from a bottle of Crianza, and poured two half tumblers. Stephanie had gone to her new room, next door to theirs. Everyone had gone to his or her room; it was after one o'clock. He handed a glass to Ellen, and sat in the arm chair next to hers. "That's a day I don't want to do again." He settled back in the chair, sipped his wine, put the glass down and pressed his palms against his eyes. "Give me a minute, El?" He examined two images in his mind, Harold's room when he'd visited this morning, and later when he'd stepped in alongside Toni. There was something he wanted to notice. He fixed the pictures, and opened his eyes.

  "What?" she asked. "Do you have something?" She took a gulp of wine, swished it around her mouth, set her glass down.