Deadly Satisfaction

by Trice Hickman

  As soon as Johnny’s death became public knowledge, Charlene immediately contacted the chief of police and the lead homicide detective on the case. She’d told them that she was shocked to see that the man she’d hired as her Realtor, but whose services she’d never used, had been murdered. She’d also told them that as a public official, sworn to serve and protect her constituents, that she wanted Johnny’s killer caught as soon as possible so the citizens of Amber could feel safe. She’d polished it off by telling them that her office would provide any resources they needed for their investigation.

  But despite Charlene’s clever strategy, she knew that everything hinged upon Vivana being able to positively identify her as the woman she’d had an altercation with on that fateful day in the apartment building. Charlene had nearly worried a patch of gray into the front of her head at the thought. But as it turned out, Vivana had been so distraught and angry that day that she couldn’t remember the face of the woman whom she’d accosted. There had been no eyewitnesses, so it was as if it had never happened, and for that, Charlene had been grateful.

  The prosecution had a field day picking apart Vivana’s claim of the incident, and basically implied that she’d made the whole thing up. “How is it that you confronted and actually became engaged in a physical altercation with a woman who was seeing your boyfriend, yet you can’t even remember what she looked like?” the prosecutor had asked. When Vivana responded by telling them that she’d been so angry she couldn’t focus, it really made her seem like the kind of person who could easily go into a rage and commit murder.

  Vivana’s damaging testimony had sealed her fate, and from that point forward it was clear that she would be convicted. After she was locked away, life had begun to slowly return to normal for Charlene, that is, until a few months later when she received a cryptic text message. It had been very short and simple, but it had frightened her. Although she’d erased it right after she’d read it, she still remembered it word for word.

  Unavailable: You’re a murderer

  CH: Who is this?

  Unavailable: I’m the person who has proof that you murdered Johnny Mayfield

  Charlene raised her arms, yawned, and then stretched out on the couch in her drunken haze. She was still dressed in her beige-colored silk blouse and her brown houndstooth skirt. She made no effort to remove her stylish gold necklace, matching earrings, or bracelet because at this point she couldn’t maneuver the clasps or hooks, even if she tried. She was tired from the mental strain of the very real possibility that the crime she’d committed might soon be uncovered.

  “What kind of evidence could they have?” Charlene said, slurring her words worse than before. She propped a pillow behind her head. “I was careful. I didn’t make a single mistake. Maybe Leslie’s bluffing.” But deep down Charlene knew that wasn’t true. A chill went through her when she thought about the fact that Leslie wanted to meet her for coffee at the Whole Bean Café, of all places.

  As Charlene fell into an alcohol-induced sleep, she tossed and turned with the thought that she might not have gotten away with murder after all.

  Chapter 8

  DONETTA

  Donetta had been in the produce section leafing through collard greens and talking to Geneva on her phone, when she saw the handsome man from the restaurant standing just a few feet away. She felt a jolt of excitement at the sight of him. But her sense of caution quickly kicked in. She knew from past experience that good-looking, sexy men like him couldn’t be trusted any further than she could see them. And by the looks of this one, he was especially dangerous.

  She’d caught him staring at her a few times while she’d been waiting for her food at Sebastian’s, but she’d ignored him. Then Geneva had called, sounding worried and afraid, causing her to turn her complete attention to her dear friend, relegating the handsome man to an afterthought.

  Now she was face-to-face with him again in, of all places, the grocery store. Her first thought was that he must be following her. She didn’t want to become alarmed, but she also didn’t want to discount the fact that she knew people were capable of just about anything.

  Donetta tried not to look at him, but he was so tall—at six foot, four inches—and handsome—with the right combination of classic features and rugged sexiness—that she couldn’t help herself. His faded Levi’s were casual, with a well-worn vintage look, as if they’d been custom-made for him. She liked the way his broad chest and muscular arms outlined the black cashmere sweater that hung perfectly on his frame. She could spot style when she saw it, and he wore it as if he’d been born into it.

  Donetta knew she needed to stop thinking about him and get back to doing what she’d come there to do. She was getting ready to place her bundle of collards into her shopping cart when she made the mistake of glancing his way. It was as if he’d been waiting for a cue because he smiled and waved a friendly hello.

  “Damn it!” she whispered under her breath. She braced herself when she saw him walk toward her with a casual comfort, as if they were old friends. She steadied herself, put her hand on her hip, and stared him in the eyes. “Are you following me?”

  The man looked startled and slightly offended as he lost his smile. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then why’re you here?”

  He chuckled. “I guess for the same reason you’re here . . . to buy food.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t get your order from Sebastian’s?”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “No, I mean, yes, I did. But it won’t do anything for an empty refrigerator.” He glanced down at the collard greens in her cart. “I guess you’re in the same boat, too.” He picked up a big bundle of greens and put them in his cart.

  Donetta could see that he had no idea what he was doing, and she had the urge to tell him that the greens he’d chosen had too many spots and weren’t as fresh as the ones in the back. He looked like he didn’t know the difference between collards and cabbage.

  “I see you like collards, too,” he said with a smile. “Nothing like a good pot of well-seasoned greens for a holiday dinner.”

  There he goes again, trying to make conversation, she thought. Donetta ignored his last remark, rolled her eyes, and began to push her cart past him. But when she did, she got a whiff of his incredibly sexy scent and it made her stop in her tracks. Damn, he smells good! She loved colognes and perfumes, and she knew virtually every fragrance—male and female—upon first whiff. But she couldn’t place what kind he was wearing. He smelled like a combination of Irish Spring soap, tangerines, and fresh pine needles. She knew she should have expected that a sophisticated man who looked as good as he did, would smell good, too. She had the urge to rest her nose against his neck and inhale deeply, but instead she quickly regained her composure and began to push her cart again.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” the man said playfully.

  As much as Donetta knew she needed to keep walking, she found herself slowing her pace. His deep, velvety smooth voice sounded like pure seduction, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it in the restaurant. She was intrigued, but she didn’t want him to know that, so she stopped and turned around. “What?”

  “Are you always this rude?”

  She rolled her eyes again.

  “Your attitude doesn’t become a woman as beautiful as you. And rolling your eyes, which, by the way, are so hypnotic I could get lost in them, seems like such a waste when you do that. I think you’re much, much better than the vibe you’re giving off.”

  Donetta had been prepared to launch a sarcastic comeback to whatever the sexy stranger might say, but the words that fell from his mouth made her hold back. He’d managed to set her straight about her funky attitude while giving her what sounded like a sincere compliment. She looked into his eyes again and felt something stir inside her. She was a good judge of character, and she’d always followed her gut, which was now telling her that the man standing in front of her was a good one.

  But just as quickly as she’d allowed
herself to soften her hard stance, she turned cold again. A childhood full of hurt and an adulthood filled with pain had left her weary and cynical. And the last two years in particular had taught her just how cruel some people could be. It had taken Donetta a long time to climb out of the fog of dysfunctional and abusive relationships she’d experienced in her life, and only recently had she been able to lay old demons to rest. She’d made a promise to herself after her surgery a year ago that she would protect her heart at all costs, and she had no intention of breaking it.

  Donetta cleared her throat as she pulled her long, silky hair behind her ear. “Since I’m so rude,” she said with a slight smile, “I’ll exercise what little home training I have by saying thank you for that backhanded compliment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some shopping to do.”

  The handsome man chuckled again and shook his head. “There was nothing backhanded about what I said. My compliment about your obvious beauty and lovely eyes was sincere, as was my comment about your attitude.” He folded his arms. “I don’t think you’re as rude or as hard as you’re trying to come off . . . so why don’t you drop the barbed wire, which really doesn’t suit you, and have a conversation with me.”

  Donetta looked down at her pink Uggs as the pit of her stomach fluttered. She knew she needed to resist the alluring sound of his voice and the welcoming smile that was spread across his face, which nearly made her smile back. She softened her tone. “You don’t know a thing about me.” She slowly pushed her cart past him. “Have a good evening.”

  She knew he was watching her walk away, and she fought the urge to turn around to make sure. The farther she walked, the more she could feel his eyes on her. When she rounded the corner at the end of the aisle, she glanced back, and sure enough, he was still staring at her with a smile on his face. Donetta quickly darted down the breakfast aisle, pushing her cart like she was on a mission.

  With the holidays approaching, she planned to be out of the salon through the early part of next week, so she combed the aisles, placing items in her cart that she would need to tide her over. She strolled down the baking aisle, and there he was again. The handsome man was looking at his phone and then at the shelves in front of him. Just as she’d thought before, he didn’t have a clue about what he was doing. She figured his girlfriend, fiancée, or possibly his wife had probably texted him a list of things to pick up on his way home.

  Donetta immediately became pissed. Here he was, out shopping for his woman, who was waiting for him at home, while he was hitting on a complete stranger, flirting and giving out compliments like a seasoned player. She took a deep breath and began placing more items into her cart, ignoring him as if he wasn’t even there.

  “Excuse me,” the man said. “If you help me with this, I promise I won’t bother you again.”

  She continued to ignore him.

  “Miss, I know you hear me talking to you. I’m not asking for your number, I just need to ask you a question about an item on my list.”

  Donetta pushed her cart close to his. “What are you looking for?”

  “Baking powder, self-rising yeast, and something called cream of tartar.”

  She looked at his cart and saw that he’d managed to find sugar and flour on his own. “Excuse me,” she said as she reached in front of him, pulling the three items from the shelf.

  “You must really know your way around the kitchen.”

  “And you obviously don’t.”

  “You’re a regular ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

  She was about to roll her eyes again, but she caught herself.

  “Actually, I’m pretty good in the kitchen,” he said confidently. “But I don’t bake at all, so I’m completely out of my element here.”

  Donetta walked back to her cart. “Your wife will be very happy that you found the things she needs to do her baking.”

  He smiled and leaned against his cart. “I’m not married, I don’t have a fiancée, and I’m not dating anyone.”

  Donetta shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear unaffected. “That’s not my business, or my concern.”

  “No, but that’s what you were thinking, otherwise you wouldn’t have made the comment.” He smiled. “I’m running errands for my mother. She’s making a big Thanksgiving dinner, and I told her I’d get everything she needs to start cooking tomorrow. She works really hard and this will save her some time.”

  Donetta nodded her head and watched him as he looked down into her cart and then back into her eyes.

  “Looks like you’re cooking a big Thanksgiving feast, too.”

  “I thought you said after I helped you, you wouldn’t bother me again.”

  “I won’t . . . I’m not bothering you, I’m talking to you. There’s a difference.”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  The man had been smiling up until now, then he became very serious. “Miss, I don’t know who or what has hurt you, but whatever it is, I hope you can move beyond it. Life is too short to be so hostile and angry all the time. It’s ironic, too, because if you’re this beautiful with a bad attitude, I can only imagine how stunning you’d be if you let down your guard and allowed yourself to be happy.”

  The handsome man’s words stung because they were right, and for the first time in a long time, Donetta was speechless. The things he’d just said sounded eerily similar to many of the lectures Geneva had given her over the years, especially in the last few months. “You need to stop acting like the stereotypical angry black woman,” Geneva had said. “If you act ugly, that’s exactly what you’re going to attract.”

  Donetta swallowed hard, struggling with what to say. “Um, listen, I apologize for my rudeness and my funky attitude. I had a very long day that didn’t end too well.”

  His smile came back. “You’re in luck because the day hasn’t actually ended yet, so the way I see it there’s a very good chance that you can turn things around.”

  “You think so?” She gave him a hint of a smile.

  He nodded. “Absolutely. You have to have hope.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “No, I’m Phillip,” he said with a smile. “And you are?”

  She giggled and cleared her throat again. “I don’t usually give my name to strangers.”

  “I’m not some pervert who’s gonna hunt you down or anything. I’m just a good brother who wants to know the name of the beautiful young woman who’s gonna help me find the rest of the things on this list so I can get the hell out of this grocery store and head back home to eat my dinner from Sebastian’s before it freezes out in my car.”

  “My chicken marsala is calling my name,” Donetta said. Her stomach fluttered again, and she didn’t know if it was because of hunger pangs, or the man standing in front of her.

  “Wow, that’s the same thing I ordered for my mom. It’s her favorite dish from there.”

  Donetta raised her brow. “You got dinner for you and your mother, and now you’re getting groceries for her. You’re a good son.”

  “Thank you . . .” he paused and then held out his hand. “It sure would be helpful to know your name.”

  She looked into his eyes again, and she believed what he’d said about getting dinner and groceries for his mother, and she also believed he was a good man. For the first time tonight, she looked at him with a genuine smile and placed her hand in his for a warm shake. “I’m Donetta. Now, let’s finish getting the things on your mama’s list.”

  Chapter 9

  PHILLIP

  Phillip had always been told he had the Midas touch. Everything he set out to do resulted in success, whether it was being voted most valuable player on his high school basketball team, graduating at the top of his class from Stanford, or being the youngest associate ever to be considered for partner at his law firm, he always came out on top. So when he stood in the grocery store and spotted the beautiful woman from the restaurant standing in the same aisle, he couldn’t deny his good fortune.

&nb
sp; Phillip had hoped that fate would bring him face-to-face with the mysterious, beautiful woman again, but he had no idea that ten minutes later she’d be standing just a few feet away, carefully mulling over a bin of collard greens, inspecting each leaf as if she’d grown them herself. Although her body language made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to be bothered, he had other plans in mind.

  She seemed to have a power over him that drew him in and made him want to get to know her better. As a lawyer, he was trained by profession to ask questions and look for nonverbal clues that could explain one’s motives and actions. He’d mastered the art of paying close attention to people’s body language, because it spoke volumes, even if they refused to open their mouths. When he watched the beautiful woman, he saw that her body had been tense and that her eyes longed for something. The more he engaged her, the more he broke down her walls of defense, until she finally gave him a genuine smile that opened the door for more.

  For the past thirty minutes, Donetta had been helping him find various items on the long grocery list his mother had texted him. After he’d broken through her hard shell, he found that not only was she much nicer than she’d acted, she was smart and had a wickedly biting sense of humor. Donetta was unlike any woman Phillip knew, and that alone put her in a special category. She cursed like a sailor—which was normally a turnoff for him—but coming from her delicately shaped lips, four letter words sounded almost melodic. And he could see that she had no filter because she said whatever came to her mind. In his experience, most women tried to be diplomatic in their approach, especially in the early stages of getting to know someone. But Donetta was just the opposite.