The taller of the two stepped forward, his lips pursed in a frown. “I’m looking for an old friend and I got word that he was working here.”
Margot’s unease increased as the second man, Shades as she’d dubbed him, surveyed the interior of her shop.
“Oh?”
“His name is Dexter Ross.”
She felt the same flutter of concern for the young man as she had earlier in the day. Was Dexter in some sort of trouble? He’d told her that everything was okay—that he was okay—but these men looked to be either law enforcement or some other type of federal worker. They just had that feel about them.
“Dexter?” she said, as if searching her memory for his name. She hoped to draw them out while she thought of something, but she wasn’t sure what she could think of on such fast notice.
“Dexter Ross,” the man repeated. “I know that he works here, Miss Durand.”
“It’s Missus,” she amended out of habit.
“My apologies. Missus Durand.”
“Yes, he works here, but—” She inwardly cringed at what she was about to do. “—but he’s gone for the day.”
“Gone?” the second man spoke, his voice sounding like gravel stuck in a blender.
“Gone home—or at least that’s where I’d assume he’d go. After getting up at three in the morning, that’s usually where I want to go when I get off work.”
“Could you verify that for us? I mean, we thought we saw him in here just a little while ago.”
They had been spying on her shop?
“I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
“Concerned friends,” the man said.
“Just one moment,” she replied through clenched teeth. She stepped around the corner and peered into the kitchen, expecting to see Dexter, but he was gone.
“Like I said,” she said, coming back into the main area, “he’s gone.”
Shades looked like he wanted to step past her and look for himself, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction—not unless he showed some type of official credentials and a warrant. She knew how the system was supposed to work. And, despite the fact that these men hadn’t claimed an affiliation with a government entity, they had the look of officials of some sort. Though weren’t they supposed to say who they worked for?
“Right. Well, thank you, Missus Durand.”
She kept her lips in a tight line as they left the shop, her brow furrowing. What was going on with these men and her employee? Now it seemed she had two things to share with Adam on their date that night.
“Don’t you look lovely?” Adam said, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the cheek. He stood on her doorstep, a single red rose in one hand and a stylish black fedora in the other.
“And you look rather like James Bond tonight.”
He laughed and placed his hand at the small of her back as they walked down the steps. “That's Eastwood, Adam Eastwood.” He laughed again. “I was trying for my best Bond impression tonight.”
You accomplished it rather well, she thought.
She observed his black tux, shiny shoes, and the fedora that now sat on his head. “What are we going to all this trouble for again?”
He opened the car door for her and slipped in behind the wheel before answering. “Every time I take you out to a fancy dinner, we are going to a work function. I don’t like that. So tonight, it’s just you and me.”
“Really?” she glanced at him sideways as he pulled onto 395 headed toward Washington, D.C.
“Really. So prepare to be fawned over and to dine in the lap of luxury tonight, Margot. I’ve pulled out all of the stops.”
She soon saw that was true, from the exorbitantly expensive private dinner overlooking the National Mall to the private showing of a friend’s art gallery in Dupont Circle. It was all wonderful and stunning and sufficed to take her breath away. How he could afford all of it was a mystery to her, but she’d long stopped prying into his personal life. Adam was the type of man who was fair, honest, and open to a point, but once you crossed into certain topics, he closed up like a sea anemone. She knew it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but that there were certain things in his past—she assumed due to his work history—that he just couldn’t share.
As they were leaving the gallery, he turned to her with a wry grin on his handsome face. “Up for one more thing?”
Her feet were beginning to ache and she cringed at the time, thinking of when they would get back to North Bank and when she would need to get up.
“I don’t know…” She hated the look of disappointment on Adam’s face. “I’m just thinking of getting up so early and—”
“Didn’t Dex tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“He’s coming in early so you don’t have to.”
She smiled but then thought of her visitors that afternoon. “Now that is a pleasant surprise! But, speaking of Dexter, I had something I wanted to tell you.”
“So is that a yes to my previous question?”
Margot laughed and nodded. “Yes. Let’s go be adventurous.”
“I’m glad you said that,” he said with a wink.
He drove through the congested streets of D.C. and pulled up to the curb on Independence Avenue where, at this time of night, parking was actually available.
“And, before you go complaining, this is for you.” He reached over the seat behind him and pulled out a gift bag.
“What is this?”
He just gave her a look that said open it. So she did, pulling out the tissue paper until she uncovered a pair of cheap, plastic sandals.
She gasped. “You really did think of everything.”
Adam grinned. “I called Tamera to make sure I got the right size. I thought, for my last activity, you might want more comfortable footwear.”
She looked across the street to where the illuminated Washington Monument shot up into the sky and guessed at Adam’s last activity. A walk through the National Mall at night—one of her favorite things.
They crossed the street and walked hand in hand down the wide paths. It was always shocking to Margot how many people were out at night in D.C. They were walking or running along the pathways, attention always flickering to the monuments at one point or another.
As Margot and Adam walked toward the WWII Memorial, Margot felt herself completely relax. She had the evening off and—
Then Dexter and the men from earlier in the day came back to her. “Oh, I almost forgot.”
“What?” Adam said, no doubt picking up on the tension in her voice.
“What I wanted to share with you about Dexter. Two men came by my shop today looking for him.”
“Who were they?” Adam did a good job of keeping his tone even, though she could sense his interest.
“I’m not sure. When I asked, they just said ‘concerned friends,’ which sounded very suspicious to me. They looked almost like they could be with the government, but they never flashed any badges.”
“Interesting,” he said, keeping his gaze forward as the light changed for them to cross 17th Street. Then she watched as he slid his phone out and sent a quick text one-handed.
“Adam,” she said in a tone that demanded answers.
“I’m sure Dex is fine. Maybe they were friends of his.”
“If you really think he’s fine, then why did you text him?”
“Who said that’s who I was texting?”
She let out a frustrated breath as they passed the WWII Memorial, the glowing lights of the fountain giving it an almost ethereal feeling. They took the path down close to the Lincoln reflecting pool and her gaze turned to the Lincoln Memorial before them. It glowed, standing out with its tall white columns. They were still too far away to see President Lincoln inside, but she knew he would come into view soon.
“You drive me nuts sometimes, Mister Eastwood.”
He laughed, startling a duck that had been waddling through the grass. “I could say the same about you, Missus
Durand.”
He stopped and pulled her toward him, peering into her eyes by the dim light of a street lamp. Her breath caught at his sudden nearness and the scent of his spicy cologne.
“Adam—”
“He’ll be fine, Margot. I know you see mysteries at every corner, but Dexter is a big boy who can take care of himself. He’ll be all right. Do you believe me?”
She wanted to, but then she remembered the way the men had looked. They weren’t just concerned friends—she knew that much. But what could she do about it now?
“Speaking of mysteries,” she said, avoiding his question, “I have one for you.”
They turned and started walking again, hand in hand, and she told him about what had happened with Bentley that morning. He agreed with her that the deaths were strange, but probably not cause for alarm. He deftly pointed out that Bentley wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. She had to agree, knowing that he was getting older, but it still seemed strange to her.
When they reached the Lincoln Memorial, they took the steps to the top, popping in to see the man himself seated on his large, white chair, then they stopped to sit on the steps at the back side of the memorial, the lights of the city of Arlington blinking in and out before them. During the daytime, they would have been able to see all the way over to the Arlington National Cemetery and the Robert E. Lee house flying the nation’s flag.
Adam rested his arm around her shoulder and they sat in silence for a long time before he spoke again. “Just trust me, Margot. Dexter will be okay. And, to ease the fears you no doubt still harbor—” He chuckled lightly. “—I will check in with him.”
She didn’t respond because she didn’t want to ruin the moment, but her trust in Adam had nothing to do with the men looking for Dexter and whether or not the young man was in trouble.
Chapter 3
Margot came into work feeling rested, despite her late night. When Adam had gotten a text back from Dexter assuring him that he would be in the next morning as planned, she’d decided to have fun and forget her worry. Like Adam said, Dexter was a big boy and he could take care of his own problems. It didn’t mean she still wasn’t curious, but she had pulled back her suspicion as best she could.
Not that she didn't plan on immediately asking him what the two men had been after or where he’d gone. No, that would happen the first chance she got and wouldn’t go against her promise to Adam not to worry. It wasn’t worry—it was curiosity.
She set her bags down in her office and came back out into the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in order and Dexter was ahead of schedule, something she was proud to see.
“Everything go all right this morning?” she asked, knowing it had from what she could tell.
“You bet. See,” he said, grinning up at her from where he was piping icing onto a cookie. “You can trust me, Margot.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “I never said I couldn’t. I just don’t want you getting too good at your job. Can’t have the hired help replacing me.” She grinned and he returned her smile.
Her stomach clenched as she thought about the questions she wanted to ask. A moment earlier, she’d been completely ready to burst out with the men’s visit, but now she hesitated. Would asking him make her seem too intrusive? Then again, they had come to her bakery looking for him and she was his boss. It had been close to the end of his shift but he had disappeared the day before. But still, strange men had come in asking about him. She couldn't let that go…could she?
“Dexter—” she began just as the chime went off, signaling they had a customer. Noting his icing-coated fingers, she smiled at him. “I’ll get that.”
Stepping into the front area of the bakery, her eyes widened in surprise. “Bentley?”
Though he walked slowly and had a cane hanging on his forearm, he seemed no worse for wear and the expectant smile on his weathered features made him look years younger.
“You didn’t expect me to stay away forever, did you?”
“No,” she said, coming around the counter. “But I didn’t expect you back in so soon. I would have brought you your order, or sent Dexter to you. You didn’t have to come in.”
He waved a hand in her direction, making his way to his favorite chair at the window. “Nonsense. I was feeling cooped up anyway. Needed to get out for some fresh air.”
“Please tell me you didn’t walk here.”
“I may be old, but I’m no fool. I had one of the resident aids drop me off. Figured I could bum a ride back from someone.”
“Of course. We’ll get you back.”
“Thought so.” He nodded in understanding. “What’s a guy got to do to get a cup of coffee around here?” He added a wink and she shook her head.
“I’ll be right back.”
Margot prepared a plate for Bentley and brought it back out to him, making sure to add the one cream and two sugars he always put in his coffee.
“Just as you like it.”
“You’re a saint,” he said with another wink. She sat down across from him. “Don’t you have a bakery to run?”
His focus remained on the pastry in front of him, but Margot could tell that he was glad for the company.
“That’s why I’ve got Dexter.”
He let out a raspy laugh and savored a bite of the French breakfast muffin. As he chewed, her thoughts went back to Adam’s response when she told him about the deaths.
“Say, Bentley…” He nodded for her to continue while his mouth was full. “Tell me more about your friends. The ones who passed away.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “They were good guys. Russ was a standup guy. Like I said before, he was interested in finding a wife. He was really family-minded, you know? So when we graduated and went our separate ways, I lost touch with him for a while, only to find out that he married some heiress in the Chesapeake Bay area. They settled down and lived easy on her father’s money. I think he worked for the family law firm or something, but I don’t know. He retired early and they traveled the world together. I think she died some years back but I hadn’t heard from him in a while.”
“Wow.” Margot got a clear picture of Russ from Bentley’s description. “Sounds as if he did all right.”
Bentley nodded. “We all did, well, mostly.” He grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “I probably raked in the least amount of capital, but that’s not what I was after.”
“What about Tony?”
“Ah, Tony, now there was a character.” Bentley shook his head, a far-off look in his eyes. “He married some Italian beauty whom he met while studying abroad. She came to the states and he was in D.C. for a long time working on international policy or some such nonsense.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“I’m sure it was.” Bentley took a sip of his coffee. “And Harrison Douglas. Can’t say as I know exactly what he did. I know he got married, went into law, and did well for himself—at least it seems that way. He was always flying somewhere or buying some new car. I saw him at a party in D.C. many years ago and we caught up, but he seemed to be working the room. You know the type.” When Margot nodded, he continued. “I think our friendship peaked that summer.”
“So, as far as you know, Harrison is still all right?”
“Yep.” He swirled the coffee in his cup. “It’s funny, though. As I think back to that summer, I often remember Melinda and her brother.”
Margot could tell that Bentley was lost in his thoughts, but she didn’t push him. She often found, when working with the elderly in her community, that they needed to relive the past as a way not only to share what they knew—which was often chock-full of wisdom—but as a way to connect. She loved this and waited to see what else he would say.
“She was beautiful, Margot. Simply stunning. Though that brother of hers had a nasty temper.”
“Did he do something specific?”
“Not exactly…” He shook his head. “He got into it with Harrison on occasion, but I’m sure he was harmless. Just hot-te
mpered. Don’t know where he is now.”
“What was his name?”
“Sean. Sean Kaufman. And Melinda.” Bentley winked at her. “I should have married her when I had the chance.”
Margot laughed at this. She’d never actually found out what happened to Bentley’s wife, because she knew he had been married before, but she sensed that he had really cared for this woman. “You didn’t keep in touch?”
“No. She had worked there for the company we worked for and we knew that she was going to stay behind. As much as I would have loved to sweep her off her feet, I still had law school to finish and, while my heart may have wanted something more than friendship, my head led the way. That happens too often, Margot.” He drilled his gaze into hers. “Don’t let your head lead the way. You hear me?”
She knew better than to argue with him, but she had a feeling her heart had led her astray more than a few times. Though not in the case of her late husband. Her heart had taken the lead there and she never once regretted their marriage or their life—up until his untimely death.
“Say, is that Rosie?”
Margot peered out the window. “It is.”
“She working today?”
Margot shook her head. “No, not today.”
“Will you go ask her if she’d take me back? I don’t want to make you leave the shop.”
Margot was going to protest but she still wanted to talk to Dexter and, if Rosie was already in the area, she had a feeling the woman would be more than happy to help Bentley, their favorite customer.
“That’s the last of it,” Dexter said, closing the refrigerator door.
“Thanks for that,” Margot replied. “Are you about ready to head out?”
He nodded, dusting off his hands before pulling his apron over his head and tossing it in the hamper to be washed. “Yeah. Unless you needed me for something else?”
Margot leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded. After Bentley left, she’d come back to find Dexter hard at work on the next batch of croissants and, with the look of concentration on his features and the audiobook playing in the background, she didn't want to interrupt him. Instead, she told him she’d watch the front while he worked. She missed the feeling of dough in her hands, but knew she’d be back here early the next day, giving Dexter a much-deserved break.
Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6 Page 2
