Looked to Luther like this guy might be wanting his fine car back. Well, well. He’d had him figured for the overnight parking. Guess things didn’t work out, after all. Well, well. Luther sure knew how that tune sounded. Heads up. Here he comes now.
“Yes, sir,” Luther said. “Parking or driving tonight? What will it be?”
“First of all, it’s Dan, okay? Just call me Dan, everybody else does.” He was fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. “How much for tonight, Luther?”
“Are you finding that Porsche or am I? Because I’m all alone tonight. Can’t leave the entrance unattended, if you know what I mean. Get some mighty suspicious customers every now and then.”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, okay. I understand. I’ll get it myself.”
“Forty will do then. I charge extra for the Porsche because I take extra care of it.”
“I’m being ripped off, but what the hell, it’s tonight’s theme song.” Dan peeled off two twenty-dollar bills and laid them in Luther’s outstretched palm.
Luther shook his head and chuckled. “Ain’t even going to ask why you said that…Dan, is it?”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” Dan turned and took a few steps before turning to face him. “Listen Luther, uh, you didn’t see me here tonight, did you?” He winked.
Luther stared at the two twenties in his palm. “Let’s see now. Did I or didn’t I?”
“Man!” Dan retraced his steps. “Okay, you got me.” Another twenty-dollar bill changed hands. “Now, let’s do this again. Was there anyone like me driving a black Porsche in here tonight?” Luther grinned. “Not tonight, not last night, or maybe even tomorrow.” He opened his palm once more. “How about next week?”
“Forget it,” Dan said. “I could be dead next week.”
Luther watched him walk away and he had to admit, he hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t have time to do much thinking. The wheels of the oncoming Mercedes crunched onto the gravel. He took a deep breath and jumped away from the curb. Guy could get killed just standing here minding his own business. Didn’t even have to be working, which by the way, he was. The back passenger window slid down, and a white-haired head popped out.
“You! Seen a black Porsche tonight?”
Now this was too much, thought Luther; and to think he almost closed up for the night.
“Naw,” he said scratching his head. “Not tonight, or last night, either.”
“Sure about that?”
“Yeah.”
He couldn’t have known, but at that exact moment, Dan’s black Porsche was leaving the garage exit directly behind him. He couldn’t have known that Giles never saw the car or the driver, or that Rocco did see it, as well as the driver’s face. No, he didn’t know because Rocco didn’t want him to know. At that moment, Rocco was wondering many things, but really he decided, just one thing mattered. None of these people could ever find out about the affairs of the others, or of his involvement, because if they did, Rocco was sure of one thing: next week, he could be, and most probably would be, dead.
Gabby watched the scene from the elevator doors. Of course, she recognized Giles Dingwerth, and of course she knew the jerk that ruined her donuts. Well, it was obvious to her: the Vice President in Charge of Something was leaving Leila Bolivar and—and, this was too delicious—Giles Dingwerth was going to meet her. Gabby would bet a box of Krispy Kremes—hot, fresh ones.
“Oh, Felicity?”
“Madam?”
Felicity hoped with all her heart that June Senior didn’t want her to serve any more of those chalky pastel mints. She’d given her quite a scare not long ago. Not that they were anything new. At least once a week, June Senior called Dr. Hart, and he talked to her about her dietary indiscretions, which she’d usually deny outright. Like tonight.
“Oh no, Dr. Hart, I followed my diet like I follow my religion,” she said with decided conviction.
Some religion, thought Felicity. So what did June Senior want now?
“Felicity, what time is it? I can’t see that blasted clock without my glasses and Giles put them up before he left tonight.”
“It is almost ten forty-five, madam. Would you like the television? Some chicken bullion?”
“No, nothing.” June Senior sighed. “I’ve been thinking, though.”
Uh-oh.
“Did I ever tell you about how I was when Giles met me?”
“How you were? What do you mean?”
“I mean, how I was. How things were for me. I wasn’t always so well off, you know. Or maybe you didn’t.”
“Well, I didn’t, madam, but forgive me, does it matter now? Look at all of this. All you need to think about is how nice your life is today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Correcto?”
“Well now, that’s what I was going to tell you about. I do need to think about it, because Dan reminds me so much of myself, you know.”
Stunned, Felicity stopped plumping the mounds of pillows. Up to this moment, she had firmly believed that June Senior despised Daniel Hunter, or at least, held him in utter disdain. But now…this revelation was simply unbelievable. She braced herself for what she knew was coming, like a sandcastle about to be razed by an incoming wave.
June Senior nestled in the pastel satin pillows. Her face was sallow and the skin around her jaw line sagged and drooped like melting wax. Absent scarlet lipstick, her thin lips were barely visible. She gazed off into the distance as she spoke. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve really ever told anyone else this story…not even Bunny, come to think of it. Can you get me some wine?”
She began to cough, and Felicity hustled into the dim kitchen. June Senior was not well tonight. Even when she poured the red wine into the goblet and set it on the silver tray with a paper napkin, Felicity had a very uneasy feeling. She could only hope Mr. Dingwerth would return soon. When she entered the spacious master bedroom, she gasped.
June Senior had vomited on the front of her flannel nightgown, and was audibly choking. Felicity set down the tray and ran to her side. “Should I call Dr. Hart again?” she said, her voice quivering with panic.
“Giles,” June Senior said, between labored breaths. “Call Giles.”
Seven
Dan couldn’t believe how quickly the time had passed. He cruised on the highway, amazed at the amount of traffic that surrounded him. On a typical night, he returned home by 11:00, snuggled next to Bunny.
He blinked hard, and struggled to keep his heavy eyelids from sagging. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how weary he felt. The day had been one big blur, from the time he left work to the time he finally retrieved his car from Luther’s Fine Parking.
A relentless obsession with Leila Bolivar consumed his thoughts. Stolen moments with the love of his life were all that mattered now. Dan realized the risks. The stakes were high; but, he didn’t care. Lady Luck was on his side. Restless, he flipped on the radio, and then, silenced it.
What bothered him so much? He had the world by the tail. All he had to do for the rest of his pathetic life was to tolerate Bunny’s every whim. What was so hard about that? Ha! Just like Giles Dingwerth? After tonight, he didn’t know what to think about his father-in-law. He punched the dashboard in frustration.
A fine mist coated the windshield and he turned on the wipers. A passing truck flung grimy muck onto the windshield of his Porsche, just before it passed him, just before he stomped the brakes, just before he rolled into the ditch beside the shoulder of the highway. It was the last thing Dan would remember about his luscious night.
It was almost midnight.
Had he really seen a black Porsche just a minute ago? Giles couldn’t be sure, but as agitated as he felt at this moment, riding in the elevator up to Leila’s room on the twelfth floor of the Hotel Charlotte, he simply erased the thought from his mind. That way, he had more room for his sole obsession, Leila Bolivar.
There were times, he had to admit, that he felt conflicted about his dalliance, but, he always reminded himself, what
he had with Leila came once in a lifetime, if one was extremely lucky. Had he ever felt that way about June? If he had, he couldn’t remember it.
The elevator door opened and Giles stepped out onto the padded carpet, navy covered in golden fleur de lis. No, he decided, he had not. At one time, when they were both young and naïve, perhaps he thought he had found true love with June. But, June would never be Leila.
Ah, Leila! He stopped in front of Room 1204 and cleared his throat, then smoothed his graying hair. He hoped he looked smashing. Leila always looked smashing. He knocked on the door and waited. At moments like these, his focus was intense, his adrenaline pulsing.
The door opened, and Giles felt beguiled. A second later, he was bewildered. What a time for his damn cell phone to ring! Certainly, he’d turned it off for the evening. How could he have been so distracted? His arm encircled Leila’s narrow waist while he talked. A quizzical look lingered in her dark eyes.
“Yes Felicity, what is it?” he said, his voice peppered with a choppy impatience. “You know I’m out looking for Daniel.” Was it his imagination, or had he felt Leila’s body twitch just ever so slightly? “June? What’s the matter with her now? Well, put her on then. What do you mean, you can’t? If she just vomited…well then, let her sleep. No use calling Dr. Hart. He knows she breaks her diet left and right, with all those mashed potatoes and those tacky mints. You know, Felicity, you really ought to hide them. I do hope she didn’t want anything to drink on top of it all. Wine? Oh, for the love of Pete. I’ll be home as soon as possible. No, I don’t know when that will be. Now please, let me find whatever it is I’m looking for. Good evening.”
Leila tossed her head and laughed, a hoarse, throaty laugh. “Whatever it is you’re looking for? And what is that?” she said in a mocking tone. She twisted a lock of her long hair around her forefinger. “Who is Daniel?”
Giles nuzzled her neck. Why on earth, now that they were finally alone for such a short sweet time, did Leila want to know about Daniel? His lips grazed hers and his eyes drifted to the king-sized bed. The sheets, uh, were quite rumpled, and say there, the pillows on both sides of the bed were quite mussed up. Had Leila had company?
“Darling.” He pulled her closer to his chest. “Have you been quite alone this evening?”
Leila’s face remained stoic, even as her wandering hands caressed the length of his firm body, finally lingering just below his waist. Craving her as he did, her touch felt like food to a starving man; like a drug for a desperate addict. He lived for these rationed interludes. Without them, he would die; of that, he felt certain. Only these times could sustain him through the mindless exchanges with June, and the endless parade of social engagements arranged by her or her meddlesome cronies. As long as he had Leila in his life, he could survive.
Her fingers undid his tailored trousers and they fell to the floor around his ankles. She dropped to her knees in front of him. In an instant, Giles knew one thing. They would not need the bed tonight.
“So, uh, Rocky, did you say your name was?” Luther asked. He pulled a half empty pint of whiskey from behind a pile of boxes. “How about a little drink or three?”
They sat side by side in the tiny one room building that served as Luther’s main office. It had one desk, one ancient, or “antique” as Luther liked to call it, brass lamp, a short row of rusty file cabinets, and a wall covered in scraped, brown pegboard that held rows and rows of keys. Rocco found himself gawking at them in amazement. How did Luther keep them all straight? He asked him that now, but Luther seemed too preoccupied with refreshments to hear him.
The old man leaned back in his squeaky desk chair and sighed. Then, he took a long swig from his amber root beer bottle, just before he set out two paper cups leftover from last year’s Christmas party at his tidy home on St. Martin Avenue. “Hey Rocky, you like the Santa Claus on your cup, or how ’bout a reindeer?” he said, filling both cups half full with liquor.
“Really, I should not drink and drive,” Rocco said. “I would just like to know how you take care of so many fine cars. Very ’spensive, eh? How you remember what car belongs to who?”
“Eenie meanie minie moe.” Luther pointed from one cup to the next. His calloused finger finally rested on the Santa Claus cup. “See, it’s like this. I got a gift.” He gulped from the cup. “Ah! Glad you stopped by, bro’.”
“A gift, you say?”
“Yeah. Like, when somebody hands over their keys to they car, I see they face up in my brain. Got it? Keys in the hand, face in the head.”
“So, how that help you?”
Luther slurped another gulp from the cup. “Well like, tonight for example. There was this guy, call me Dan, he tells me, all up in a hassle to get to a four o’clock ’pointment. He got hisself a fine black Porsche. Me being me, I take the keys, and I make a mental note of his face, you know, like I done told you about.”
“Why?” Rocco said.
Luther drained the cup and reached for the other one.
“Why? Now how do I know? It’s like my gift, man, I’m telling you, so listen up. Anyways, I got this guy Dan figured for my fine overnight parking, but lo and behold, what do you know? Here the man done cometh along ’bout ten, ten thirty to get his fine black car. Didn’t mind babysitting that machine, nossir. But, let me tell you brother, I knew him in an instant, and I knew he belonged to the black Porsche. Didn’t keep me from charging him forty dollars for the extra fine care I gave it neither. But see? That’s what I’m talking ’bout. I got a gift. You get me now, Rocky?”
“This Dan, uh, what he look like, amigo?”
“Well now, I shouldn’t pass that on, ’cause of confidentiality and all, but hey, you know how to keep a secret, don’t cha? Yeah, I thought so. For starters, he was white, real white. Kinda look like that movie star, you know, Tom Cruise, yeah. Got that big smile. Why, you think maybe you know somebody like him?”
Rocco shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well now, wouldn’t that be some trip. Say, what are you doing here anyways?”
Before Rocco could answer, both men looked up to see Giles Dingwerth approaching the office. His face wore a contented smile.
“Looks like my time is up,” Rocco said. “Nice to meet you.”
Luther rose from his seat and yawned. “Yeah, me too. Maybe now I can get in a little shut eye. All this socializing done wore me out.”
Rocco winked. “I got a feeling you’re not the only one feeling that way tonight, amigo.”
The rain pelted across the windshield of her car, and Gabby pulled her red BMW onto the shoulder of the highway to wait—wait until the storm subsided, at least a little, or a lot. It didn’t matter now. After trailing the Porsche for a few miles, she was lost. Well, that idea was crazy anyway. After all, what did she think might happen? There was no reason for a guy to pull over, just because some zealous reporter wanted to interrogate him. No reason, except…
Gabby couldn’t believe her break. Even in the driving rain, she could tell it was him, crashed in that ditch. Had someone called for help? Should she call 911? No, she decided, she should not. She would do this in the rational, step by step approach she knew she could summon, if she really wanted to. She would talk to him first. So, where was an umbrella when she needed one?
After the potent drinks she’d consumed, her head felt lighter than her body. Headlights from passing cars blinded her vision. She ventured into the freezing rainstorm, and stumbled into a deep puddle. Great. Again, she asked herself, what did she think was going to happen tonight? Had this guy already called for help, or would he be glad to see her?
The moment she spotted him, she knew the answer. A deep gash marred the center of his forehead. Dark blood trickled from the corner of his open mouth. She wanted to scream. But wait, for everyone’s sake here, Gabby knew she needed to remain calm. Pull yourself together.
The car leaned precariously at an angle. She cracked the passenger door, and climbed into the stuffy space. Her hand grazed a thick p
iece of smooth leather. As if it possessed a pair of guilty eyes, the wallet stared at her. Of course, she inspected the contents, Gabby being Gabby, and besides, she should know who he was, right? Hmmm, nice wallet, lots of cash.
The guy moaned. She opened the wallet and the driver’s license spoke for itself: Daniel John Hunter in living color, smiling that big, wide smile. This certainly looked like the same guy that caused the donut ruckus at the hotel a few hours ago. Hunter, Hunter…where had she seen that name? Could it be that same one that married Bunny Dingwerth last year? That wedding splashed all over the society page, which left no room for anyone else—that caused quite a stir, yesirree. Now this was news! Well, she’d keep the wallet until the police arrived.
She punched 911 into her cell phone. She had no trouble providing her whereabouts, Dan Hunter’s identity, or in what condition she’d found him. That was the easy part. It was later, when she sat waiting in the front seat of her car watching the rain droplets patter against her windshield, that she realized something, something truly bothersome, at least to her.
Why was Daniel Hunter lying in his Porsche in a ditch in the pattering midnight rain?
Giles remained remarkably quiet on the ride home. In Rocco’s opinion, the old boy did not seem like himself these days. An ardent fan of bawdy jokes and limericks, Giles usually repeated a half dozen at a time. Indeed, mindless banter seemed to ease his toxic tension before he faced yet another meal with June Senior.
Outside, the air felt frosty and moist, but not quite cold enough for a solid freeze. Still, Rocco flipped on the heater. The hum of the blower was the only sound. About twenty minutes passed before Rocco drove the Mercedes onto the circular drive in front of the palatial Dingwerth residence.
“That’s odd,” Giles finally said.
“Sir?”
“I only meant that it was odd, Rocco, that the house would be so dark. Felicity usually leaves on more lights than that, doesn’t she?”
Crazy for You Page 5
