When the Sun Goes Down

by Gwynne Forster

  “That’s too bad. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine.”

  “What are you going to do with the nineteen hours between now and then?”

  His stern expression slowly dissolved into a grin. “If you want to share all nineteen of them with me, I’ll be as happy as a squirrel in a barrel of acorns.”

  She pulled his ear. “Oh, you know what I meant.”

  “If you’ll have dinner with me, I’ll be here at six in a jacket and tie.”

  “Why don’t you dine with us?”

  Shirley’s head whipped around. She hadn’t heard Gunther come down the stairs, and she said as much. “You forgot that I don’t wear shoes in the house,” Gunther said. He shook hands with Carson. “I’d be happy to have you join us.”

  Shirley studied him carefully, and after a glance at Carson, she said, “Thanks, dear brother. We’ll take a rain check on that. I haven’t seen Carson in ages, and I have so much to tell him.” She looked at Carson. “But it’s up to you.”

  Carson eyed Gunther with an expression that said Help. “You know I don’t have the guts or the faintest desire to turn her down, don’t you?” What man could? “Thanks for the invitation.” He pulled her gently into his arms, pressed his lips to hers, and, as if they were alone, smiled as he looked down at her. “I’m so happy that you’re back here to stay. I’ll be here at six.” He looked at Carson. “See you later, man.”

  Shirley closed the door behind Carson and turned to her brother. “Gunther, what do you mean by pulling that trick? Hadn’t I told you minutes earlier that I hadn’t seen Carson in three weeks?”

  “You two are pretty close.”

  “That’s right. We are. And we will definitely get closer. If you’re planning to supervise my behavior, I can stay at a hotel. Try to remember that I work every day, take care of myself, and vote during local and national elections. I don’t break the law, and though my father is dead, I’m old enough, at age thirty-two, to go out with boys without your permission.”

  He held up both hands, palms out. “Look, sis, we don’t know enough about this guy. We’ve had no results from his searches. Hell, he could already have found the will. Why should you be so trusting?”

  “Why? I’ll tell you. Because I put on my bikini in his hotel bathroom, and not only did he sit in the suite’s living room while I did it, but he also didn’t attempt to touch me after I came out. Furthermore, he then changed into that nothing-of-a-swimsuit he wears, and if anybody threatened to get out of line, it was me. So back off. The man’s a gentleman.”

  “Okay, but you’re my sister, and it’s my duty to look after you.”

  “I know, honey. But please don’t smother me. I like Carson. Your suspicions are unfounded.”

  She got a book and a handful of peanuts and went out to the park, a small oasis of trees, grass, shrubs, and water fountains in the midst of urban concrete, and sat on a bench beneath a purple ash tree. She stayed on the water so much that the sturdy earth beneath her feet gave her feelings of solidity and security. She opened her book but couldn’t concentrate on the story, because the squirrels soon came to investigate her, running across her feet, standing up, and begging for nuts. She put one nut in her right hand and reached down, and the squirrel took it from her. She stayed with the squirrels until they’d taken all of the peanuts, and with the sun still high, she went inside, showered, took a nap, and then began to dress.

  “My, don’t you look good,” Mirna said when Shirley came downstairs. “You work on that, ’cause he a fine man. I’m gon’ leave two slices of my lemon cake in a bag on the kitchen counter, and you be sure to give it to him. Little gestures like that endear you to a man. You hear?”

  She hugged Mirna. “Thanks. I think he’s wonderful, but Gunther’s ready to pull the big brother act.”

  Mirna stuck her fists to her hips. “Now, I think Mr. G’s the cat’s pajamas, but what he see in a man and what you should be looking for definitely ain’t necessarily the same.”

  “That’s part of the problem. I don’t know what Gunther sees in Carson. Maybe he refuses to take a close look. Anyhow, it won’t cause me a drop of sweat. Growing up without a mother and with a father locked up in himself, I’m lucky to have any values at all.”

  “I hear you, but don’t lean too far in that direction. Some lousy parents have fine children, and some really good parents have very bad luck with their kids. Lots of things other than parents influence children. Parents have to try and control those influences. Did Mr. G give you a key, or does he want you to ring the bell so he’ll know what time you come in?”

  Shirley couldn’t help laughing. “If Gunther knew how well you understand him, he’d be shocked. He likes to think he’s complicated. I’m going up there right now and ask him for a key.”

  “Well, all right, if you insist,” he said when she asked him. “This takes some getting used to. It’s like you’re not my little sister anymore.”

  She leaned down, braced one hand on the back of his chair, and kissed his forehead. “That’s right. I’m not. I’m your younger, thirty-two-year-old sister, and I love you. There’s the doorbell. Bye.”

  “One of these days when you greet me looking like the queen that you are, I’m going to give in to my gut feeling and let out a sharp whistle. You are one gorgeous woman,” Carson said. “For two cents, I’d take you to my lair and keep you there.”

  She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes and added a slow wink. “Couldn’t you at least spare a nickel?”

  Laughter poured out of him. “Come on, woman. You’re temptation enough without adding suggestive remarks.”

  After dinner at an upscale restaurant in Baltimore, he asked if she’d like to dance. “Of course I would. I love dancing with you.”

  “A place for good dancing is hard to find in this town. I hope you like Wilson’s. The music is ... well”—with his palm down, he moved his right hand like a rocking boat—“comme ci, comme ça.”

  “If I’m dancing with you, I won’t know the difference.”

  He stared down at her. “If you mean what I think you mean, I may begin to walk on air.”

  “I meant what you think I meant, but for goodness’ sake, stay down here where I can reach you.”

  He hugged her, helped her into his car, and headed to the nightclub. They danced until the band stopped and the musicians packed their instruments, and then they left the club with their arms tight around each other.

  “Are you still willing to go with me tomorrow morning?” he asked her. “It’s after midnight.”

  “I’ll be ready at nine as we planned.” He parked in front of the building in which Gunther lived and walked inside, holding her hand.

  He opened Gunther’s apartment door with her key, returned it to her, and didn’t wait for an invitation to go in. He stopped just inside the door and gazed down at her. Wordless. She stared into the dark desire of his mesmerizing eyes, fully aware that she would be a willing victim of the onslaught of passion in which he was about to engulf her.

  “I’ve waited weeks for this,” he said, locked her body to his, plunged his tongue into her waiting mouth, and possessed her. “Give it to me. I want your nipple in my mouth. I want to taste your flesh.”

  With so much cleavage showing, she slipped her right breast out with ease and held it to him. He pulled the nipple into his mouth and sucked it until she could no longer restrain her moans. After adjusting her clothes, he eased her feet to the floor.

  “I don’t apologize for that, sweetheart. After looking at them all evening, I had to taste them.” He cradled her head against his shoulder. “I care a lot for you, Shirley. I’m in pretty deep. If it isn’t this way with you and if you think I can’t be special to you, please tell me now, and I’ll cut my losses.”

  “I know you were disappointed once, but I’m not planning to do that, Carson. I care a lot for you, too, and I trust you to be fair and honest with me.”

  “And you can always do that. Kiss me
... but just a little bit. I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

  She kissed his cheek. “See you at nine.”

  “What’s the matter, Carson?” Shirley asked him the next morning as he parked in front of her father’s house. “You’re a blast of north wind compared to the Carson I was with last night.”

  He turned off the ignition and looked at her. Why hadn’t he anticipated her response to the Carson Montgomery who was focused on his work and nothing else? “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. This is the first time I’ve had a relationship with a client, and I suppose I’m not handling it well. When my mind is on my business, I think of nothing else. Sometimes I don’t get hungry or sleepy. I have to find that will, and I’m no closer to it than when I started. Can we agree that when we’re dealing with this case, I’m the detective, and when we’re not, I’m the man who cares only for you?”

  Her eyes widened, and for a few seconds, she gazed steadily at him. “I’m sure this is why you’re good at what you do, but don’t make a habit of it. Okay, how can I help?”

  Inside the house, she followed him up the stairs. “I want you to go into the room that was your bedroom. Take yourself back to the time when you lived here with your father and your brothers, and try to recall what your father did while you were in your room alone or when you played with your brothers. Try to remember what we’ve missed. I’ll be in the basement.”

  As he passed Leon Farrell’s den, he stopped. Why would a man have two wood-paneled walls in his personal office/den when walls in the remainder of the room were painted white? He shrugged. The man probably didn’t want to spend any more money on expensive wood paneling. No point in attaching anything to that, considering that the man either hid or destroyed his will. Nothing he did would surprise him. Once in the basement, he began a methodical check of the laundry room and the closet in which the linens were stored. After about an hour, he heard Shirley’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “You know what? It just occurred to me that I haven’t seen any of Father’s wooden robots.”

  He rushed to her. “Wooden robots? I’ve seen only one plastic robot in this house. Do you think Edgar could have sold them?”

  “Maybe, but as I recall, he didn’t regard them as valuable. He considered it silly for a man Father’s age to collect robots. And when Father began to make wooden ones, Edgar suggested to us that we ought to have him committed. Since only he and Father lived here for the past few years, it’s possible that Father hid them from Edgar. He could have put them in storage somewhere.”

  “I see. Has Edgar mentioned the robots to you since your father passed?”

  “Not to me, but he could have spoken to Gunther about them.”

  “Robots, huh? Can you describe them?”

  “He bought plastic and metal ones, but mostly plastic. All were animals—dogs, cats, and bears. I think he must have taken a course in it, because he began to make wooden squirrels and rabbits about two years ago. We joked that he cared more for animals than for humans, but that wasn’t really fair.”

  Carson sat on the edge of a little end table near the steps. “I had that guy all wrong. I’d figured he spent his time reading. So he wasn’t an intellectual.”

  “Not in my estimation,” she said. “And it’s interesting, because most introverts who prefer their own company tend to be thinkers and intellectuals. Imagine a father of children almost forty years old who lived with him for most of their lives and can’t define his personality. Leon Farrell didn’t do his job as a parent.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me about that. Why isn’t Edgar in Atlantic City on the weekends?”

  “He said he works locally on the weekends.”

  He stared at her. “Does that make sense to you? Are people most likely to go to a resort city on Mondays or on Fridays? Don’t believe everything people tell you, not even if the speaker is your older brother.”

  At dinner that evening, she mentioned to Gunther Carson’s skepticism about Edgar’s employment arrangements. “Carson thinks it doesn’t make sense.”

  “He’s right. It doesn’t, and Edgar’s probably lying. He might have had a gig there for a short while, but not on a permanent basis. Let’s see. Today’s Friday. I’ll see if he’s at that hotel this evening.” He took out his BlackBerry, dialed Edgar’s cell number, and waited.

  “Hello. Farrell speaking.”

  “How’s it going, Edgar? Are you on a gig in Baltimore tonight? I thought I might drop by with a friend.”

  “Naah, man. I told my boss to shove it. That scum doesn’t know good music when he hears it. Like those airheads in Atlantic City. They take a guy who doesn’t know a pick from a pitcher and make him lead over a boss guitarist. The hell with all of them. A bunch of assholes.”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “Man, I’m in Vegas. I’ve been stranded, but this gal I’ve met is buying me a ticket home. She thinks she’s clever, buying me a round trip to be sure I come back. See you in a couple of days.”

  He related the conversation to Shirley and added, “Looks like he’ll always be a deadbeat. I wonder how much he owes that poor woman.”

  “I hope she can afford it. Carson thinks the absence of those robots may be significant.”

  “Possibly. It’s his job to consider everything. I agree with you. Edgar didn’t think enough of them to take them, but Father was a little paranoid when it came to those things, so he probably stored them somewhere. But why would he do that?”

  “He had a mean streak, and you know he did. Anyway, Carson wants to talk with you. He’s going to find that will or die trying.”

  “I don’t expect you want that,” he said dryly.

  Since it was Mirna’s afternoon off, they cleaned the kitchen together. “I think I’ll turn in,” he said. “My distributor wants another game. He said the one I gave him is moving. I made it for children, but it seems that everybody’s attracted to it. I hope to get this in shape by the middle of next week.”

  “You’re not supposed to work but half a day, so please be sensible about this. And please call Carson in the morning. I may be out for a while. See you at breakfast.”

  He stopped midway up the stairs. “You may be out? Out where? You were with that guy last night.”

  He could almost see her bristle when she stuck her fists on her hips and glared at him. “What guy are you talking about? One more crack like that one, and I’ll move.”

  “Move where?”

  “I’d love to move in with Carson, but he hasn’t asked me. There’re plenty of hotels here and in Baltimore, so try to keep your bossiness under wraps, please.”

  “You’d actually move in with Carson?”

  “I hadn’t considered it until you started getting on my nerves. But the thought of being in a position to have my way with that man is enough to send me over the edge. Good night.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Gunther, please drop it. Carson is important to me, and I don’t want to continue discussing him in a flippant manner. We can speak seriously about this another time. Okay?”

  “Yeah. As if I didn’t have enough headaches.”

  He heard her cell phone ring, knew it was Carson, and battled with himself as to whether he should confront the man and risk the chance that Shirley would keep her word and move in with him. He didn’t want her to do that. A woman was at a disadvantage and with minimum bargaining chips when she removed a guy’s chief reason for getting married. Too bad their father hadn’t taken the time to give her the facts of life.

  Shirley sat on a step midway up the stairs and answered her cell phone. “Hi, how are you?”

  “I’m lonely. Want to go for some ice cream? It tastes great this time of night. I know a super place for ice cream. How about it?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Jeans and a collared T-shirt.”

  “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

  “Gal after my own heart.”

  She com
bed out her hair, put on a pair of silver hoop earrings, washed her face, and buffed it with a dry towel. She examined herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. Black jeans, a red T-shirt, and blue Reeboks. Definitely good enough for ice cream, she assured herself and tripped down the stairs, humming Eric Clapton’s “Layla.”

  “Hi,” she said when she looked up and saw Carson at the door. “Mirna left us cake for dessert, but I was saving mine for later. So when you called—”

  He interrupted her with a kiss on the mouth. “Why are you nervous? You look great. Let’s go.”

  She was nervous, but she hadn’t thought it would show. She hadn’t been so casual with Carson, and she didn’t know how he’d take it.

  “I love your hair down,” he said as he drove away from the curb. “And your outfit is raising my blood pressure. Want to go to Three Scoops?”

  “I’ve never been there, Carson, but I’m sure I’ll like it.”

  “Are you always so agreeable? I like that about you, but don’t forget that I like to please you. So always let me know exactly what you want and what you like.” He stopped for a red light, turned, and looked straight at her. “And that goes for everything, including and especially, when you’re in my arms.”

  She knew what he meant, but she didn’t know how to respond. That was as pointed as it could get.

  “Do you understand what I mean?” he asked, refusing to let her avoid answering. The light changed to green, and he turned onto Route 144, drove half a mile, and parked in the Three Scoops parking lot.

  “You chose an idyllic evening,” she said, gazing up at the full, bright aristocratic-looking moon, regal in a field of stars. Down on earth, every leaf seemed content to remain unmoving on its limb, and not the slightest rustle of breeze disturbed the quiet. “I don’t even hear an automobile,” she said. “This is a little slice of heaven.”

  “So you’d rather not answer.” He flexed his right shoulder in a quick shrug. “The trees and that high wooden panel block out the traffic noise. If you like this, wait until we get inside.”