by Rose Pressey
“How about I just type your number into my phone?” I pulled it from my pocket and poised my finger over the screen.
He ran his large hand through his short spiky blond hair. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
He rattled off his number as I tapped the screen on my phone.
“Okay. I got it. Thanks. I’ll give you a call,” I said.
“Yeah, great. I’m looking forward to working you out,” he said.
Again Dorothy picked up her pocketbook as if she was about to take a swipe at him. I grabbed her arm and guided her away.
I waved my hand over my shoulder as we walked away. I knew he was staring at us as we left. He was probably staring at my saggy butt, the jerk.
As we neared the front of the gym, a guy running on a treadmill looked down at his shoelace, then fell forward onto the treadmill, zooming back off the thing and landing on the floor. No one else appeared to notice the ruckus. If they did, they didn’t care because they continued pumping out their reps. The guy had totally crashed and burned.
Dorothy and I ran over as he lifted himself from the floor. He had dark hair and was about half the size of the other men in the building. He also didn’t wear their standard uniform, but instead had on gray shorts and a blue t-shirt. Apparently, he had gotten away from taking their oath. Lucky him.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“You poor dear, you just about knocked your teeth out,” Dorothy said.
He gave an embarrassed lopsided grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern.”
I studied his face for a moment. “If you’re sure.”
He nodded. “I’m fine.” He grabbed his water bottle and towel. “Thank you, ladies.” He waved and walked away.
“He seems out of place here,” Dorothy said.
I stared in his wake. “Yes, he does. Not to mention he looked really familiar. Where do I know him from?”
“Well, it’s certainly not from the gym,” she quipped.
“No, but I’ve seen him before,” I said.
“You’re not going to let that Erich guy instruct you on fitness, are you?” Dorothy asked with a frown.
“I thought maybe it would be a good idea to have an excuse to come back and look for the guy who’s following us,” I said.
She frowned for a moment, then finally relented and agreed with my genius idea. “I guess that is a good idea, but don’t get too muscular.”
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about in that department,” I said.
She looked me up and down. “You are kind of skinny. Maybe you should order extra on your lunch date with Jake.”
“I don’t have a lunch date and I have plenty of meat on my bones thank you,” I said.
“Well, if you don’t have a lunch date then you should. And you’re right about the meat on your bones. It’s all in the rump area.” She wiggled her finger in the direction of my butt.
I glared at her. “Dorothy, you’d better watch what you say or your knitting needles might accidentally fall into the Dumpster.”
“I don’t find that funny, dear.”
When we finally made it out of the gym, I climbed into the car with our found treasure still in my hand. At least I’d come out of there with something.
“What do you think is in that ugly thing, anyway?” Dorothy asked.
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m looking into the guy equivalent of a purse,” I said.
“And don’t forget the kitchen sink. Just open the darn thing.” She pointed.
I unzipped it and whispered, “I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. We shouldn’t be doing this, huh?”
“You have to find the owner, right?” She winked. “So, go ahead and open it up.”
“Right.” I nodded, then unzipped before I chickened out.
“What’s in it?” Dorothy asked like an impatient child.
I began removing the contents…an empty package of gum, two crumpled-up dollar bills, a pen and paper, a chocolate-flavored condom, and bubble gum-flavored lip balm…That was when I noticed a piece of paper and pulled it from the depths of the bag. Actually, it looked like a page torn out of a magazine. It had been folded twice. I unfolded it, then immediately wished that I hadn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the male physique…very much so, but this guy was creepy.
“Eww,” I said.
“What is it?” Dorothy asked grabbing it from my hands.
“Don’t look. You’ll want to remove your eyes with your knitting needles,” I said.
“Well, he’s certainly not bashful is he?” she said while staring at the picture.
The guy was carrying around a nude picture of himself? Apparently, Playgirl magazine had published his picture. He probably used it to hit on potential dates.
“Get rid of that thing,” I said.
Dorothy folded the magazine clipping back and tossed it in the middle console. “What else you got in there?” she asked.
“I don’t want to stick my hand in there again,” I said.
“You have to. There might be an ID in there with his name on it. It’s your job.” She smiled.
I thought she was getting a little too much pleasure out of this. Finally, she leaned over and peered in the bag. “What’s extra ribbed mean?”
I remained speechless. There was no way I was schooling Dorothy on condoms today.
“Oh, dear.” Her eyes widened. “For pleasure,” she said under her breath.
“I told you I don’t want to stick my hand in there,” I said.
She sucked in a deep breath, then said, “I’ll do it.”
Dorothy snatched the bag from me and stuffed her hand in. In one swift movement, she pulled out the still-wrapped condom. Then she pulled out a small bottle of jasmine-scented lotion and peppermint-flavored breath mints.
“Is there any identification?” I asked, leaning over to get a look.
“I don’t see anything with a name on it,” she said.
“What a waste of time. Now what are we going to do with the bag?” I asked.
She stuffed the contents back in the bag, barely touching the condom as she tossed it in. “Well, you could take it back in there and tell them you found it.”
I thought the idea of throwing it into a trash can seemed like a better option, but I would feel bad for doing it. Yeah, I was too much of a softy. I mean, the guy had been following me. He deserved to lose his bag.
“Fine. I’ll take it back,” I said, grabbing the bag and climbing out of the car again.
I hoped I didn’t run into the muscle guy again. But then I thought about the other guy. The one who seemed out of place and as if he had no idea why he was there or what he was doing. If only I could remember where I’d seen him before. Since I was new in town, it wasn’t like there were that many options. I really needed to get out more.
The guy behind the counter took the bag when I handed it to him, but he seemed less than interested. He wanted to get back to his bodybuilder magazine.
“Do you happen to know who owns this bag?” I asked.
He looked me up and down, then muttered, “Nope.” He looked back down at the magazine.
“Yeah, thanks for the help,” I said sarcastically.
Chapter Nineteen
I shouldn’t have answered his call, but temporary insanity had taken over my mind. Jake called and asked me to meet him for lunch. I’d agreed, but only if he promised to take me to the condo owner’s home. As I headed to pick up Jake, I couldn’t help but repeatedly glance in my rearview mirror for the meathead from the gym.
Why had Jake offered to take me to the condo owner anyway? What was in it for him? I knew it wasn’t just because he wanted to go to lunch with me. The car seemed quiet without the clanking of Dorothy’s knitting needles. It was nice to have to time to think things through. One thing was for sure, I needed to come up with a better plan. If the tower owner was the killer, then who was the guy from the gym? And more importantly, what did he want with me? I had n
o choice but to go back to that gym. I wasn’t looking forward to having that musclehead making my muscles burn. This hadn’t been in the job description when I thought about being a private investigator.
Within a few minutes I had Jake in my car and was pulling up in front of an address that Jake claimed was Thomas Shaw’s home.
“How do you know where this guy lives?” I asked.
“The man has called the police a few times,” Jake said.
“Why has he called the police so many times?” I asked.
He looked out the window. “Different reasons…”
“You’re not giving me all the details. Come on, spill it,” I said.
“I will admit he’s had disagreements in the past with Arthur Abbott,” he said.
“I knew it. See, that’s the kind of stuff you should have told me right away,” I said.
We turned onto the street and pulled up to the address. Jake and I walked up the driveway and knocked on the front door.
“Is Thomas Shaw available?” I asked when a woman answered the door.
I was surprised how much she reminded me of Allison with the same blonde hair and bright smile. She looked me up and down and then shifted her focus on Jake. She didn’t appear happy about the fact that we were standing on her front porch.
She gave Jake a dramatic stare from under lashes that were so long and thick they cast shadows on her cheeks. “He’s not home right now. May I tell him who was calling?”
“Miami Police,” Jake said before I had a chance to respond.
He whipped out his badge and flashed it at her. I had to admit, that was kind of sexy.
I’d wanted to do all the talking, but this woman would probably respond to the police more than she would me, so I let it slide.
She inched the door closed a little and said, “I’ll make sure to tell him you were here.”
With that, she shut the door completely, leaving us standing there staring at the faux boxwood wreath on the door.
“It seems like she was in a hurry to get rid of us,” I said.
Jake scowled. “It does appear that way, doesn’t it?”
I smirked. “Why would she do that, unless…”
“That doesn’t exactly mean that her husband—or whoever he is to her—is guilty of murder,” he said.
I held my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say that it did, just that it’s a little odd.”
“People don’t usually invite the police in for milk and cookies,” he said.
We stood in the driveway for a moment. I felt eyes on me so I looked back up at the house. The woman was standing at the window staring down at us. When she saw me watching her, she shut the blinds.
“Who do you think she is? The wife?” I asked.
“I’m not sure if he’s married. If it’s not his wife, it must be his girlfriend,” Jake said as he opened the passenger door of my car. “You ready for lunch?”
“What? We haven’t found him yet,” I said.
“You promised we’d go to lunch,” he said.
“You promised we’d find the owner,” I said.
“I said I would take you to his house. I didn’t guarantee that he’d be here.” He smirked.
“You’re not getting away with that. I need to ask this man questions.” I buckled my seat belt, then turned the ignition. “We’re going to the tower to look for him.”
“What exactly do you plan to ask this man?” he asked.
“Well, for starters I want to ask what problem he had with Arthur. I mean, I know he wanted him to move, but was it really that big of an issue? Would it be enough to push him to kill Arthur? If this is the same man who I saw that day at the tower, then I know he’s guilty,” I said as I navigated the streets headed back toward the tower.
“I’d hate to have you as a juror if I was on trial,” he said.
“As long as you don’t do anything wrong I guess you won’t have anything to worry about,” I said.
“Why do you want to get Allison out of jail, anyway?” he asked.
“You still haven’t figured that out by now?” I asked.
“No, I guess I haven’t,” he said.
“She paid me money to find the killer. It’s my case. Besides, I don’t think she did it. So as far as I can tell, it’s the right thing to do,” I said.
“Is that right?” He tapped his finger against the seat.
I was almost afraid to find out what he was thinking. I knew he was about to let me know what was on his mind.
“So tell me, Maggie, P.I., what do you do for fun? Besides chasing down killers and dodging bullets?” he asked with a smile.
Did I dare tell him I liked to watch reruns of detective shows in my spare time? No way. He didn’t need more ammunition to think I was incompetent.
“Well, I like to read, run on the beach, and I also like to paint,” I said.
I cringed when I realized that it sounded like I was reading him my singles ad.
“What do you paint?” he asked, as if he was genuinely interested.
Taking one hand off the steering wheel, I waved it dismissively. “I’ll paint whatever I see that sparks my creative side. Sometimes it’s a beach scene, sometimes a still life.”
“I’d love to see your work,” he said.
“Enough about me though. What do you do when you’re not arresting innocent people?” I asked.
He frowned. “Hey, that was a cheap shot.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you don’t always arrest innocent people, but in this one case I think you got it wrong.”
“Duly noted,” he said. He ran his hand through his hair, “Well, when I’m not working I like to run on the beach and read…” I glanced over at him. Was he just repeating what I said? “I also play the guitar.”
I quirked a brow. “Really?”
“You seem surprised. Is that a shock?” he asked.
“No. not at all. What type of music do you play?” I asked.
“A little bit of everything. I like it all,” he said.
“But what is your favorite?” I asked.
“That’s a tough question. Maybe classic rock,” he said.
I nodded. “I like that music too.” It wasn’t my favorite, but I listened on occasion.
I pulled the car up to the curb and shoved the gearshift into park.
“Doesn’t this place seem creepy now that it’s abandoned?” I said, looking over at the tall, empty building.
He stared for a second. “Yeah, I guess it is a little lonely.”
I took the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find him.”
“Are you going to interrogate the man? Are you going to ask him if he killed Arthur Abbott?” he asked with a smirk.
“Maybe. It’s worth a shot,” I said. “I’ve seen it work on TV shows before.”
Oops. I hadn’t meant to mention that. I couldn’t let him in on my dirty little rerun secret.
His eyes widened. “That’s the only place it works.”
I ignored his comment and continued toward the building. Luckily, since Jake was with me, I didn’t have to look around before I slipped under the police scene tape. He held the tape up for me as I crossed under it.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome.” He stared at my face for longer than I was comfortable with, so I shifted my attention toward the building.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that he’s not here either.”
“We don’t know that for sure. We haven’t even looked inside yet,” I said.
“His car isn’t here.” Jake gestured around the empty lot.
I looked to my left. “Maybe he’s in the other building.”
Jake shielded his eyes with his hand and peered across at the other tall condo tower. “Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s take a look, but if we don’t find him there, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on lunch.”
I bit my lip to keep from
smiling. I had to keep up the professional façade. “Fine. If he isn’t there we can get food. You must eat a lot.”
“I eat. Apparently that’s not something you want to do,” he said.
My stomach rumbled and a flash of those previously mentioned nachos flashed in my mind. “Oh, I eat plenty.” I marched toward the building, leaving Jake standing in the same spot.
The parking lot of this condo tower was mostly empty too. “There aren’t a lot of cars at this one either. What’s the deal?” I asked.
“I don’t think they were able to sell many condos in either tower, that’s why people moved to this one,” he said.
When we stepped into the building’s lobby, a woman greeted us as she walked toward the elevator. Her pink flip-flops made a swoosh noise as she stepped across the tile. She had a giant straw tote bag draped over her shoulder and a white swimsuit cover-up that reached to her knees. Dark hair sprinkled with gray peeked out from under her straw hat.
“Oh, hello, Detective Jackson, it’s nice to see you. Is everything okay?” she asked with concern in her eyes.
The residents were probably on edge since Arthur’s body had been discovered.
“No, nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Page. Have you seen Thomas Shaw?” Jake asked as I stepped over to the back entrance.
I figured I’d give him a moment to speak with the woman and possibly find Mr. Shaw’s location. I wondered how Jake knew this woman. I’d have to ask later.
The glass door led out to the patio where there was a large turquoise pool and white wicker loungers and beyond that the ocean. It was odd to see the beach mostly empty. But as I looked out the window, I noticed something in the water straight ahead. What was it? A float? A shark?
Jake was still talking to the resident, so I stepped out the back door for a better look. Waves of heat assaulted me and I longed to dive into the sparkling pool.
As I stood on the pool patio, straining to see, I still couldn’t make out what was in the ocean. I slipped off my favorite white sandals with the blue flowers attached to the top and headed out across the sand. It was hot under my feet at first, but then I hit the cooler part where the water had previously been.
