Body Wave

by Nancy J. Cohen

  She ordered a full meal, intending to milk Stan for a free dinner. “So what’s this information you have to share?” she asked him after Ruth left to get their drinks.

  Folding his hands on the table, he leaned forward. A lock of black hair fell across his brow. “I spoke to Stella, Kim’s mother. We were discussing Kim’s funeral, and I asked about the nurse’s aide position. They’re still interviewing people and haven’t found anyone satisfactory.”

  “Tally said I could use her for a reference and pretend that I work for her mom during the week. I feel guilty about lying, though.”

  “How do you think undercover cops conduct investigations? You’re helping us find my wife’s killer.”

  “Why are you so convinced one of Kim’s family is guilty?”

  “A lot of money is involved. Kim and I made a prenuptial agreement. In the event anything happened to her, Kim’s family retains her share of Grandpa Harris’s trust fund, although I think the trust itself is set up that way.”

  “What if something happened to you first?”

  He regarded her with a steady gaze. “My kids inherit my savings and pension funds. I’m not a total nudnik, Marla. I take care of my own. If you had let me—”

  “Let’s not go down that road again.” She slouched back when Ruth brought their beverages. Just what she needed. A cup of hot coffee would revive her brain for a few more hours. Taking her time, she added cream and sugar while contemplating what to ask Stan next.

  “How do I get an interview for the job?” she said after sipping the strong brew.

  “The old lady rules the nest, but she’s grown feeble. Florence, her eldest daughter, is the one who interviews prospective employees, so ask for her when you call. God, I can’t stand how those sisters bicker constantly. When Florence and Stella are together in the same room, it can drive you nuts.”

  “Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Stella dabbles in craft projects, which Florence thinks are frivolous wastes of time. Florence is hung up on society functions. The two of them don’t see eye to eye on anything. Then there’s the other reason they don’t get along.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “Florence was in love with the man who became Stella’s husband.”

  “Really?”

  To her disappointment, he didn’t elaborate. “Their brother, Morris, lives at the complex with his wife and sons, but he’s engrossed in the family business. None of them ever approved of me because I earned my way up the rungs instead of being born into wealth. They’re a bunch of snobs.”

  “How delightful,” Marla murmured.

  Their meals arrived, and she ate her corned beef sandwich in silence, savoring the greasy potato latkes that accompanied the dish. Stan played with his roast beef, cutting the meat into fine pieces and pushing them around on his plate. He didn’t eat with his usual gusto, reminding Marla that he was in mourning.

  A surge of sympathy engulfed her, but she steeled herself against it. “How about our agreement?” she said, putting down her fork. “I want proof that you’ll sell me your half of our rental property.”

  A grimace crossed his features. “I figured you’d bring that up. Always interested in serving your needs first, aren’t you?”

  “I can say the same thing about you.” Grabbing her mug, she accidentally sloshed a dribble of coffee on her blouse. Heat flushed her face while she mopped the spill with her napkin. Hearing a rustle of papers, she glanced up.

  “My partners prepared these documents. I suppose you’ll want your attorney to look them over.” He handed them to her.

  Marla’s eyes widened as she scanned the contents. “This is highway robbery! What kind of shlemiel do you think I am? I can’t afford to pay that much.”

  Stan sneered. “My price goes along with the property appraisal. You want to call off the deal, it’s fine with me. In fact, I’ll pay you that amount for your share. Just think what you can do with the money—buy your car when the lease expires or pay off the mortgage on your townhouse. What do you say?” He stuffed a piece of buttered roll into his mouth.

  Marla slammed her hand on the table, not caring that several patrons glanced at her in disapproval. “I say, dershtikt zolstu veren.” You should choke on it.

  “Tch, tch. Not nice, Marla.”

  “If you want my help, you’d better play nice with me. This cost is too high.”

  Her resolve must have shone through her expression, because he grunted resignedly. “Very well, I’ll give you a discount, but you have to earn it.”

  She pushed away her plate, no longer hungry. “Consider it my retainer fee as your private investigator. I want new papers delivered tomorrow. I won’t trust you until you sign them.”

  “Hey, you think I’m stupid? I’m not signing anything until you turn in Kim’s killer to Detective Vail.” His wily gaze penetrated hers. “Let me amend that statement. I’ll sign, but with an option to cancel within thirty days. If you don’t bring in a suspect by then, our deal is off.”

  “Thirty days? Ha! A piece of cake.”

  Like a punctured balloon, his expression deflated. “Kim made the best chocolate cakes. The best. I can’t believe she won’t be bustling around the kitchen anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, Stan.” Her anger evaporated in the face of his grief.

  A flicker of something else flashed behind his eyes. “Yeah, well, in one way you could say she got what she wanted.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He pursed his lips. “A bird who tries to fly with clipped wings ends up on the ground.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not following your train of thought.”

  “Never mind.” He shook himself, as though mentally resurfacing. “Let me know what happens when you contact the Pearls. Kim’s funeral is set for Thursday. Her family will sit shiva afterward at their place. I’ll be receiving visitors for the required three days at my house. That includes the day of the funeral, according to my rabbi. So don’t expect to be interviewed for the job until Sunday at the earliest.”

  “That works for me. Oh, I told Leah what happened. She’d like for you to stop by and see the kids.”

  “Thanks, Marla. For everything.” Rising, Stan threw some dollar bills on the table and waited while she pulled on her jacket. At the cash register, he paid their check.

  “That was a simple meal,” he said to her outside in the parking lot. “It was almost like old times, sitting across from you at the dinner table.”

  “If I recall, you preferred places with a dress code. But you’re right; after things went bad between us, we argued our way through every meal just like tonight. I’ll be seeing you, Stan.”

  “Wait a minute, let’s say a proper good-bye.” Taking her elbow, he directed her toward a darkened corner. “It’s your birthday next week, and I want to give you an early present for being so helpful.”

  He drew her close before she realized what he intended and kissed her full on the lips. Marla was so astonished that she didn’t pull back. He must have taken that as encouragement because he deepened the kiss, arousing memories she’d rather forget. Once upon a time, she’d craved his touch. Now it merely reminded her of past mistakes. She tolerated his embrace only because part of her wanted to comfort him, knowing he ached inside with grief. Maybe a passionate kiss was his way to reaffirm life in the face of death.

  No, this wasn’t right. While his arm tightened around her, his other hand snaked to her breast. What was the man doing? Bracing herself to push away, she froze when heavy footfalls sounded from behind.

  “Here you are,” Dalton Vail announced. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Marla freed herself and spun around. She swallowed at the grim expression on the detective’s face. Behind her, Stan cleared his throat.

  “Which one of us do you mean?” Stan demanded with a hint of bravado.

  “I wanted Marla, but maybe you’re staking a prior claim?”

  Marla glanced from one to the other, feeling as though they
stood on a battlefield. Stan returned her gaze, his eyes speculative. Surely he didn’t believe she still felt attracted to him? Her glance swung to Dalton, who’d traded his signature suit for jeans, a fresh button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. His mood appeared as dark as a level-one hair color.

  Stan raised his hands. “I ended my claims long ago, unless Marla’s had a change of heart. I think she knows what she’s been missing. Or does she get it from you?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Dalton grated.

  His fist clenched, and Marla feared they’d come to blows. But the detective reined in his temper, no doubt saving it to take out on her later.

  “Well, I was just leaving,” Stan said, backing away. “Bye, Marla.”

  “What’s going on between you and Kaufman?” Dalton demanded, after Stan’s car squealed from the parking lot.

  Marla shivered in the cool night air. “It was a friendly kiss. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “The two of you seemed pretty snug.”

  “That’s because he surprised me. Don’t worry, Stan doesn’t affect me the way you, er, I mean…” She moistened her lips, aware he watched every movement. “Stan is grateful because I’m helping him out.”

  “Really?” His tone held a dangerous edge. “I’ll follow you home, and then you can tell me all about it.”

  Chapter Four

  Marla unlocked her car door. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for us to be together right now.”

  “Why not?” A beam of light from a street lamp shimmered on the silvery highlights of Dalton’s dark hair.

  Marla’s breath came short at his nearness. Facing him, she leaned against her car, the driver’s door unopened. “You’re working on a case that involves me. It isn’t smart to mix business with pleasure.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” He lifted his arms to pin her in place against the vehicle’s metal body.

  “You’re too close, Dalton.”

  “Am I?” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling as though he enjoyed her scent.

  “I intend to prove Stan is innocent.”

  That jolted him. Abruptly, he stepped back. “Just what is it you’ve agreed to do for him?”

  She drew in a deep breath. Trust had to begin somewhere, didn’t it?

  “Kimberly’s grandmother employs a daily nurse. The woman needs a day off, so Stan said I should apply for the position of health aide on Sundays. It shouldn’t be so hard to look after an old lady for one day. Stan believes one of Kim’s family members may have killed his wife to gain her inheritance, since her share goes back to them upon her death. I’m supposed to snoop around the estate. In return, Stan will sell me his half of our jointly owned property.”

  “He could be right. Having an insider there could prove useful.”

  “You mean you’re not angry?” An imaginary weight lifted off her shoulders.

  “Would it stop you if I disapproved of this masquerade?”

  “Not really.”

  “I still think Stan has his own motive and is trying to throw us off track.”

  “Undoubtedly you’ll be investigating that angle.” She couldn’t believe his easy acceptance. “What do you say we exchange information?”

  “Sure.”

  She tugged on her skirt. “You’ve never been so agreeable before. You’re always warning me to stay away from your cases. “

  His eyebrows raised. “Marla, you advised me at Taste of the World that I have to let you take risks. That goes for our relationship, too. I won’t be able to tell you everything, but I’m sure you know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Good. I’ll interview Kim’s friends and neighbors, in addition to the relatives. Let me know if you get the job caring for her grandmother.”

  “I will.” She hesitated. “Good night, Dalton. Someday soon, I’d like to cook dinner for you and Brianna.”

  “Sounds great.” He gave her a quick peck on the mouth, nothing like the hot kisses she’d anticipated.

  Just as well, Marla thought during the drive home. Why start something they couldn’t finish, at least not now? Too many issues still divided them, and while part of her wondered what might have happened tonight if she’d accepted Dalton’s company, putting off that scenario presented a more comfortable option.

  ****

  Friday rolled around before Marla could think about Stan and his problems again. Two quick phone calls set her weekend schedule. She arranged for a job interview with Florence Pearl on Sunday morning. Meanwhile, Gary Waterford agreed to meet her at his workplace around five o’clock.

  She located Waterford’s Air-Conditioning Emporium in downtown Dania, past the antique district and a few doors from Jaxson’s Ice Cream Parlor on South Federal Highway. Fortunately, the street wasn’t crowded for a late Friday afternoon, and she found a parking space with little effort.

  Wearing a tangerine sweater and black corduroy slacks, she strolled along the sidewalk, casting a longing glance at the restaurant. Maybe she’d run in there later for a quick meal. Established in 1956, Jaxson’s had the best foot-long kosher hot dogs with grilled onions. And don’t mention the homemade ice cream! Visions of a hot fudge sundae with coffee ice cream and mounds of whipped cream swirled through her mind. Why worry about a few extra calories? This counted as walking exercise, right?

  All thoughts of food vanished when she pushed open the door to Waterford’s business. A chemical odor like burning wires entered her nostrils. Wrinkling her nose, she surveyed the display of mechanical parts lying haphazardly on the grimy floor.

  “Yo, how ya doin’?” drawled a lanky young man behind the counter. He pushed aside a section of newspaper he’d been studying and gave her a blatantly admiring glance.

  “I’m looking for Gary Waterford,” she said, shifting her handbag strap to the other shoulder.

  “That’s me.” He smiled, revealing a row of uneven white teeth that would benefit from braces. His bleached blond hair covered dark roots in an unkempt style that needed a couple of inches snipped off at the ends. Stubble on his square jaw was either a permanent fixture or else he hadn’t bothered to shave.

  Marla dropped her gaze to his sweatshirt and well-laundered jeans. Combined with the grease stains on his rough-hewn hands, his manner suited a laborer more than a desk jockey. Was this why he had appealed to Kim? His primal aura of raw masculinity would have been a direct contrast to her willowy beauty.

  “How can I help you?” Waterford said.

  She fumbled for a way to begin. “I’m Marla Shore, the person who called you. As I said on the phone, I have news about a former friend of yours.”

  “Who is it?” The look he gave her implied they couldn’t possibly share a common acquaintance.

  “Kimberly Kaufman. I understand the two of you dated before she got married.”

  “So what?”

  “Leah Kaufman sent me. She was Stan’s wife when Kim became involved with him.”

  “I remember. What’s wrong? Is Kim all right?”

  She fortified herself with a deep breath. “I’m afraid I have bad news. This may come as a shock, but Kim passed away over the weekend. I thought you…someone might have told you.”

  His face drained, and he took a stumbling step backward. “I don’t believe it.”

  Marla glanced away, imagining what it must be like for police officers who had to tell families about a loved one’s death. “She was killed. Stan asked me to talk to people who knew her. I visited Leah, and she gave me your name.”

  “Where the hell do you fit in?” His angry tone implied it was her fault that Kim had died.

  She gave a small smile. “I was Stan’s first wife. Look, I know you need time to assimilate this, but the police may come to question you. I thought I’d give you fair warning.”

  His eyes bulged, and he glanced briefly at the newspaper open on the counter. Marla sidled nearer, catching a glimpse of the page listing Gulfstream horse races before he snatched it out of s
ight.

  Being closer gave her the advantage of noticing peeling paint and an accumulation of grime. None of the machinery parts on display appeared to be in prime condition, making her wonder if Waterford struggled to maintain his business. In South Florida, that didn’t seem likely considering air conditioners were in constant need of repair. So why was Gary here instead of out in the field? Maybe he had other employees, or else he sold parts only and was being crushed by the big home improvement chains. That might account for his air of desperation and the decaying surroundings. One other possibility sprang to mind—this business served as a front for a more nefarious activity.

  “I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “Who would hurt Kim?”

  “That’s what I hope to find out. Do you know if she still maintained any of her old friendships?”

  He spread his hands. “How should I know?”

  “Since you’d been so close, I thought you might have kept track of her.”

  “I haven’t seen Kim since we broke up.”

  She pounced on the opportunity his words offered. “You must’ve been terribly upset when she left you.”

  His gaze hardened. “Sure, I was pissed. We were hot together, but I wasn’t good enough for her. She chased after that fancy-pants lawyer who gave her all the things she wanted. Kim’s grandpappy was rich, but her grandma holds the purse strings. Their money is all tied up in a trust. Kim was too impatient to wait for her share.”

  “So you admit Kim went after Stan with the intention of breaking up his marriage?”

  Waterford lumbered to the other end of the counter, picked up a gauge, and attached it to a piece of metal piping. “She had ambitions, and I wasn’t part of them.”

  “So at what point did she tell you good-bye?”

  “As soon as she got the job in his office. Kim planned to worm herself into his bed. I told her the guy sounded like a real tight-ass, but she laughed. With his ego, she felt it would be a breeze to seduce him, and then she’d be on easy street. But Kim was wrong.” He paused, glancing at Marla. “She should’ve bailed out sooner.”