Planned Coincidence: A Thrilling Suspense Novel (International Mystery & Crime)

by Dana Arama

  I looked at my watch again. Nine o'clock - there was a chance Yigal might be at the clinic. "I'll start my phone calls, ok? See you later.”

  I cleared the table, not sure if Esther would come today. I made a note to call her as soon as possible. I wanted to be sure they had not reached her and reassure her that everything was okay.

  "Oh my girl, you're back! You're here!” Esther answered on the first ring, as if she had been sitting by the phone waiting for the past two weeks.

  "Esterikka, what's up? I missed you.”

  "You're back, and in a good mood. You have new energy in your voice.”

  "I certainly do - I feel energized all over.” And even in my dreams, I thought. "How was your vacation?" I laughed. Esther had never asked for vacation. She also refused all offers of vacations I had suggested. No hotels, no foreign travel. Her routine was the best.

  "When I want vacation from you, I’ll let you know. You don’t have to run away and lock the house just so I’ll be bored for a few days, right?"

  "I understand. When will I see you?"

  "If you're there, then… in another hour. I need to fill the pantry and refrigerator.”

  "Don’t go crazy, Esterikka. Apart from fruits and vegetables, we’ve plenty in the pantry.”

  "I know exactly what's in there. Beer isn’t considered 'plenty’ you know!" I admired her hidden love. All I wanted was to hear that she was okay. The food did not interest me at all.

  "Goodbye, Esterikka."

  "Goodbye, my girl."

  The next step was to find Yigal’s phone number. After delighted greetings, I asked, "I need some treatment, Yigal. Could you fit me in on Tuesday?"

  I knew Yigal. Usually, he’d take his time, but this time, he surprised me "Just after two o'clock," he replied immediately.

  "Oh, that’s a shame. Nothing earlier? I’ll be finishing up something in the gallery."

  "I'm sorry." He hesitated. One more word and I’ll hear what I want to hear, I thought. "These hours are a bit complicated."

  "Complicated?" I was disingenuous.

  "Yes. The ten till two time slot on Tuesdays is reserved. I can’t schedule other clients into that slot." He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Gabi."

  Sergey took four hours of Yigal’s time? Four hours in which Yigal was sorry for his chosen profession. Maybe he was sorry that his parents were Russian and that he spoke the language. He must have heard and seen things that were better left unsaid. No, that probably would not happen. If it did, Yigal would not have survived this long. Sergey's presence was enough to devastate an ordinary person.

  "So every Tuesday, eh?” I was glad to mark it as done. Another “V” in my To-Do list.

  "Yes ... Every Tuesday, at those hours." he sighed, " I'm sorry.”

  “It’s okay, nothing to it.” I calmed him, “We’ll find ourselves another time."

  I put the phone on its cradle and sat back. In my mind, I went back to my first meeting with Sergey. Now that I knew about his relationship with Dan, I wondered how ‘accidental’ our meeting was. It seemed far more likely that he initiated the encounter between us and was planning to come to the gallery, that he deliberately parked in my parking spot, and then feigned business with me. The chance that Yigal's demanding customer was Sergey was about the same as finding a cold water tap in the desert, yet I decided to act like I was going to hunt him at Yigal’s.

  Next, I called Dorit, the gallery director. "Good morning, Dorit."

  "Gabriella! Good morning. How was your vacation?”

  "Perfect. So refreshing, I want to do a similar thing to the gallery."

  "Take it on vacation in Paris, or bring Paris to it?" She laughed. "Have you found a street artist worth attention?"

  "Not a bad idea.” Too bad I did not bring it up myself. “I thought more about something like reopening, refreshing the works. Can you pass this information to the list of preferred customers? We can over it together – talk about refreshments, press reviews.”

  "Is there an artist you want to give the main emphasis to?" I heard the passion in her voice about beginning the work. I wanted that enthusiasm in the rest of the operations as well. That way, I would be able to draw in the man I really wanted.

  "We should check what's going on with Mikayeal. He was always dear to my heart. I remember you were passionate about a Bezalel girl. I don’t remember her name. She made stained glass."

  "I remember. This’d give us a completely new style." Her tone turned cautious. “Maybe you should take a look at her work first.”

  "I trust you with my eyes closed. If you think her exposure to our customers would be good for her, and at the same time, for us, too, I’ve no problem with that at all. What will she need? A wall or a table?”

  "The small, eastern wall. We can create a display through the glass, without her works blocking the light. We'll start with her slowly, and carefully."

  "Excellent. Shall we start, say, next week? Will that give you enough time?”

  "I'll start working on it right away. Today, I’ll close the gallery in the afternoon and immediately begin moving existing works and painting the walls.”

  "Not white this time. There’s a new idea – a color called 'eggshell' that’s supposed to highlight what’s on it better. Let’s try it.”

  "We used the eggshell for the current exhibition. I must have told you about it at a bad time." The warmth and the concern in her voice made her sound close.

  "I haven’t been so focused recently." I smiled, more to strengthen myself than to comfort her "I hope that, from now on, things will get better."

  "Sure. You sound different. See you next week." The joy of renewal almost made me forget the purpose for which the idea was raised, but a brief glimpse of the list in front of me on the desk raised it again as a priority.

  Next call: this time, to the company that supplies crates for shipping artwork. I ordered a very large wooden box containing thick padding.

  "I’d like this shipment to reach its destination fully intact. It’s a rare item and most expensive," I explained to the clerk authoritatively. I was promised that the box would be with me within two weeks.

  My progress was above all expectations. In three weeks, I would open the new exhibition and in a month, I could get my plan into action. Now my training had more meaning, at least for the coming month. I was well aware of my recent progress. I was no longer setting out on a suicide mission. I wanted to take revenge, but I wanted to live. The sensuality that pervaded me, mixed with adrenaline, brought new strength and sustainability to my plans and for my future after them. These feelings were also in my veins. It promised me peace, but also made me sad. Part of the solution was waiting for me in the north and another part waited patiently by the pool. Although I longed to feel him inside me, I knew that, immediately after my revenge, I’d have to find a solution for Guy’s presence. And when I was done with him, I would have to move to Paris.

  I concentrated on training more than ever. I waved my arms, raised my knees and adjusted my fists with the necessary aggression any woman like me standing in front of a large, heavy body like Guy’s needed. My throat emitted sounds that indicated the effort I invested.

  "Good. Be more focused," I heard Guy say. "Don’t slow down now. Again." I continued. I felt like I can reach to the sky. I felt I had a chance. I felt that all the poison in my soul would be out soon, when my scribbles became actions and my actions became revenge. "An eye for an eye and a broken bone for a broken bone. All Robbie's cries of pain would pass through Sergey’s throat, and every moment of grief that Danny went through would go through his mind.

  Training was interrupted by the doorbell. “You expecting anyone?”

  "It must be Esther. I’ll go to the door.”

  "No. I’ll go to the door. I want to make sure she wasn’t followed.”

  "Of course." He was so careful. He, like Sergey, was endowed with a highly developed sense of self-preservation. As he left for the gate, I thought it was a shame
that I was not more conniving and seductive, like a Vixen with a beautiful tail. With those two traits, I’d easily be able to handle both Sergey and Guy. For the first time, it hit me that Guy was also a target now, and the way I was referring him represented much more than just temptation.

  Chapter 22

  In the afternoon, something in me snapped. I started in the best mood that I had felt in a while.

  "Let me hold you, my child." Esther told me, and I became addicted to her strong arms around me.

  "I've missed you, Esterikka.” Seeing her buoyed me up far beyond my expectations. Esther brought with her familiar sounds from the kitchen, comforting smells flooding the house, fresh air with the shutters thrown open, and optimism into my life. These little things - they built a pleasant routine and assuaged, if only briefly, the bustle of the chase, and delighted me. Even after she left back home, I continued to feel euphoric. I was so happy, I wanted to share this feeling with Guy. He had a considerable contribution to this good feeling, no less than Esther.

  He was nowhere. Not at home. Nor all the usual places he could have been. There’s no reason to panic, I repeated to myself. I went out to pick fresh mint. The decision to replace coffee with tea was a good one. I went to the kitchen. I took some scissors and went toward my studio. I could not bring myself to refer to it as ‘my studio.’ For me it was a useful work space with a mint green background that looked great. And that’s where I found Guy.

  "My sweet, things are not so simple," I heard him whisper. All the defenses cemented to my heart that had fallen off recently, came back up. I tiptoed around, and then I saw Guy standing behind the building and whispering into the cell phone he was holding.

  "Obviously, I'm thinking of you.” I gasped and a new feeling overwhelmed me. No! You’ve no right to be jealous, I thought, but I could not move.

  "So don’t believe me… but I tell you, it was a job!" He sounded apologetic more than anything else. It annoyed me. Enough. Stop listening to him immediately, one voice ordered me. But another voice convinced me that I needed to know whom he was talking to. It was my responsibility to take care of my safety.

  I continued to stand there listening.

  "Hadas, do me a favor. Stop it, okay? She’s no more than a job, and you know it." I turned around and left with quiet steps. From afar, I managed to hear him promise to visit her on the weekend.

  I returned to the mint leafs. Earlier, Esther gave me a letter she found on the floor in Guy’s room. It was a private note written to his friend, Nadav.

  Now I pulled it out of the drawer and with curiosity mingled with incivility, I opened it. I read about his journey up North. How he found the room I made for Sergey and about his suspicions. I just realized that all this time he saw me as a dangerous person. I was wondering if this was the right moment to prove him right.

  "Making tea?" I heard his voice behind me. I looked at the fresh mint that I put in a jar of water.

  "Want some?" A mask of calmness covered my thoughts.

  "Yes, why not - black coffee, though."

  I turned to him. "You sound worried."

  "I’m still a little tired. Doesn’t matter. Maybe the coffee will help."

  "I’ve an idea." I gave him a seductive smile. “Maybe we should relax – go on a trip. I’ve a farm up north. How about we go for the weekend?

  "This weekend, I really have to see my parents." I was not happy with the idea. Of course, he had already made other plans. I preferred not to press. Any day would do for what I had in mind.

  "No pressure. We can go any time. We don’t have to wait for a weekend to go horseback riding on mountain roads or sitting in a hot tub in the wild."

  The coffee was ready. I cut slices of carrot cake, and served it with vanilla ice cream. I thought it would be a good way to cool the blood that was boiling in me, but it did not help. All I could think about was Guy. I did not know what he had already told Hadas or what he planned to do on the weekend. I thought of him turning to her in bed, stroking her smooth, wrinkle-free skin and savoring her breasts that were still erect, mingled with mental images of him sitting in a police station, talking about me.

  ***

  "You’re so hot today," he said, just before putting his head between my legs. His tongue learned to know the depths of my organs and he had learned to read my reactions. He was right. I was hot today, from my desire for him. I was lost in a whirlwind of emotions. I did not trust him anymore, but still longed for him. I wanted him for myself. I was not jealous of Hadas and I was not offended because I was ‘work,’ because, now, he was mine for the next hour, day, month… until I decided otherwise. Just at the right moment, I felt a finger, and then another, inside me. Now I could not hold on anymore. The orgasm broke me. I wanted him inside me. The danger he posed for me was not significant at this moment. I closed my eyes intensely. A tear trickled down my face. I did not cry.

  "You look sad. Maybe sad isn’t the word. I mean, you just seemed happier before."

  "I feel like a guitar whose last string broke. Something lifeless, something finished… inside me.” I did not want to reveal my feelings to him. It was unnecessary. What could I say? That I was in love with him? I knew him well enough to know that this was something that he was not built to deal with.

  "There’s another lifetime ahead of you." His quiet reaction surprised me.

  "Yeah, sure." I thought of my child, who would never grow up. The mother-in-law and grandmother I would never be. Even the love that was being stolen from me by an unknown woman named Hadas.

  "I'm serious. Take Pierre, for example. He’s so into you. If you gave him the nod, you could be great with him. And he seems like a hell of a guy. You don’t have to compromise.”

  The unspoken words, the future that would never involve the two of us, to talk about what he didn’t talk about, were etched there like a burning fire. It brought tears to my eyes, even though they had no right to exist. I wanted him to myself and the thought that he would soon not be by my side turned my stomach upside down. Worse, was the thought of him with someone else.

  ***

  On Tuesday morning, I got ready to Dorit’s visit. I closed the curtains and left the summer outside. A cool draught from the air conditioning filled the living room. I deliberately aimed for the meeting to take place in the living room and not in the den. I wanted to set up a meeting between Dorit, who had natural sex appeal and attracted men like moths to a flame, and Guy. I wanted to see him attracted to someone else, whether it was to prevent Hadas getting him, or a strange need to see it happen right in front of my eyes. Maybe I wanted to burn the flame of jealousy. After that, he might naturally drift out of my life. I felt that if I got myself on top of this problem, I would be able to do the right thing.

  Dorit spread a few pages before me, each of which discussed another topic of her work. They were for me. For herself, she opened a small laptop. She used it to talk me through her ideas. First, we went over our future display. I placed the colorful images of the works on the table, as I would want to see them in the gallery itself. I visualized the harmony created in three dimensions, saw how any work would get equal status to the ones next to it and would not get mixed into them.

  From there, we moved on to possible opening dates. Next Thursday turned out to be the most successful date. The next issue was catering. Just when we were decided on the refreshments, the door opened.

  "I’m back." I heard his voice from the doorway. He ran into the kitchen. He hadn’t yet got his breath back.

  "We’re in here," I called him. He showed up.

  "Guy, meet Dorit.” I looked at both of them. Charcoal-burner hair framed her pretty face in perfect waves. She held up her soft hand and her long red nails radiated the aura of a confident woman.

  "Pleasure to meet you.” He transferred his water bottle to his left hand and shook her hand. "I see you’re busy, so don’t let me interrupt." Did I see a glimmer of interest between them?

  "You're going to take a
shower?" I stared at him with veiled eyes, maybe because I knew Dorit was watching.

  "First swimming, and then..." he placed his hand on my shoulder, finishing his sentence with a smile. I knew my heart would ache after he left my life forever.

  A burst of sharp light and a wave of heat let summer into the room as Guy left for the pool. Dorit looked at me with a smile. "Wow, now I understand the change in you."

  I stifled a satisfied smile. "Let's go over the guest list."

  "Here." She took the appropriate page from the stack before us. "You have to delete the Zimmermans. Sonia passed away two weeks ago."

  "Did we send a message of condolence?"

  "Of course. I think her therapist has already got her claws into the widower...”

  "Not our affair, Dorit; the grief of others is not our affair." I smiled at her. "Oh, and you need to include Sergey Vlotzky," I added as an afterthought.

  "Sergey Vlotzky? Wasn’t he involved in the murder?”

  "He wasn’t even guilty of illegal parking. Add him to the list, please,” I insisted. "He’s a valued customer of ours who’ll pay good money for art," I added with a smile.

  Reluctantly, she wrote down his name, and in doing so began the process that ended with death.

  ***

  Thursday morning saw my first argument with Guy. It had been a few days since Dorit’s visit, and more since I heard him say I was ‘work.’ I thought I could tame the jealous woman in me, but any casual phone call woke her up. My anger at myself started to figure prominently in my behavior toward him and broke the harmony achieved through hard work.

  "You don’t have to stay in for me at home all the time," I remarked with fake casualness. I was sitting in front of the vanity mirror and examining the results with satisfaction. Behind me, I saw Guy leaning on my doorframe. I felt flattered under his caressing gaze. Or maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he was just standing there?

  "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

  "You don’t have to stay in for me at home all the time," I repeated. "I don’t know when the event will be over, and you can go out in the meantime."