But it wasn’t Nathan at the door. Instead, Adrian Green came walking in. “Cara? I couldn't leave town without saying goodbye. Let's have a coffee."
“Uh,” I hesitated, “our pot is empty.”
He tugged at my hand “We can go across the street to Pumpernickel’s."
“Excuse me a minute. I need to freshen up,” I said.. As I reached under my desk for my purse, my mind was still on the files I’d been viewing.
Had I done the right thing by doing nothing? Was it possible that I’d lost any chance of freeing Cooper from my sister’s clutches?
I might never know.
I checked my makeup in the bathroom mirror. My face was pale. My eyes overly bright. Lipstick would help, but I couldn't find the tube. It wasn’t in my purse.
That didn’t matter. Not really. I couldn’t care less about Adrian, and I sure didn’t need more coffee. I would be nice and send him packing. After all, he had been a member of the media. He probably still had good connections with the press.
But I didn’t want to go out for coffee with him. He really wasn’t my type.
In my head, MJ's voice came through loud and clear: "It's a date, Cara, not an engagement party."
"Whatever," I said. After washing my hands one more time, I stepped out onto the sales floor.
"You must be excited about going home," I said to Adrian, as I locked the door behind us.
"Rather. Things were a bit of a hash when I left before. Everything had gone pear-shaped. Now I'll get the respect I deserve as a serious writer."
We were crossing the street when I glanced down and noticed a penny. I snapped it up. “It’s good luck,” I said to Adrian.
He thought that was hilarious.
Pumpernickel’s was busy. We wound up sitting at the counter. That meant that Skye couldn't wait on us. She gave me a wink as we walked in, and a tiny thumbs-up that no one else would notice. I smiled at her and ordered a decaf skinny latte, and Adrian ordered a double-expresso.
"So how’s life, Adrian Green?" I asked. Not that I really cared, but it seemed like the right thing to ask.
“Splendid. Couldn’t be better. I turned in my book manuscript last week. I learned today that it’s been accepted. In fact, they wired the second half of the advance into my account this morning.” His grin was huge. "That's always the final hurdle. The editor has to approve what you’ve done. You can’t get all your money until then.”
“What’s the title?”
“The publisher hasn't decided what to call it.”
“You don’t get to name your own book?”
“No, that's a common misconception. Title, cover, and marketing are all left to the publisher. We had a working title, but I think they’ll come up with something much more zingy.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a biography of Josiah Everett Wentworth.”
90
~Cara~
“Really? How interesting." I tried to sound enthusiastic.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Given his recent death, my book will not only be interesting but also timely. I have no doubt that I'll skyrocket to the top of the New York Times Bestsellers list," Adrian said.
“I don't know much about the Senator’s career." I hoped to encourage Adrian to talk so I didn’t have to.
“You should know more about him. Everyone in this state should. He's an unsung hero. His name will be on everyone's lips when my book comes out. A true American success story. Although he was rejected for active military service, he rallied behind our troops and raised their spirits. Even though he was born into an impoverished family, he became a stunningly successful businessman. He went into politics because people begged him to take public office. Once elected, he worked hard as a staunch defender of the rights of his constituency. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Josiah Wentworth shaped modern-day Florida on many levels."
But did he work for the good of the common folks?
Given what I knew about the man and the railroads, I had my doubts. I nearly voiced my opinion, but I saw no reason to press the point.
“Tell me more.” I didn’t feel like putting out the effort to have a real back-and-forth conversation. Adrian was more than willing to carry the conversational ball by himself. I followed up by asking, “What did you learn about his personal life?”
"Although Josiah and Jenny Beth were never blessed with children, the Wentworths made it a point to donate their free time to young people. Especially troubled youths. They regularly invited boys to their cabin at Lake Seminole. Josiah loved to take the kids camping and canoeing in Three Rivers State Park. It filled the void left by being childless."
“Is it a 'tell all' sort of biography?” I wondered.
He gave me an odd look. "There is nothing unsavory to tell. This is the triumphant story of a man who worked tirelessly to improve the lives of others. A rarity in our political landscape. Josiah Wentworth was a real saint."
I took that commendation with the proverbial grain of salt.
“I’m not aware of any important legislation that he sponsored,” I said carefully.
“He preferred to work behind the scenes,” said Adrian.
"Was it hard to interview the Senator? When I saw him last, he was not in a good place mentally. I got the impression that his mind was drifting."
“Actually, that’s happened only recently,” Adrian said. “When I needed help, I turned to Jenny Beth Wentworth. She's kept a detailed diary of their life together. What a helpmate that woman has been! A tireless advocate for the underprivileged. A wise counselor. A fierce protector of her husband’s reputation. When the public reads my book, they'll see her as a Southern Jacqueline Kennedy, with all the class and courage that woman embodied."
I lifted my cup to hide my expression. No way would anyone confuse the two. Especially if they got a chance to see Jenny Beth’s decorating.
It struck me as curious that Adrian called Mrs. Wentworth by her first name.
"It sounds as though you and the Wentworths have become good friends," I said.
"They've been incredibly gracious to me. Inviting me to events on Jupiter Island. Introducing me to all the right people. Of course, it was Jenny Beth who actually approached a New York publisher about the biography. As soon as she got home, she asked me if I was interested in doing the actual heavy lifting. She knew I had a keen interest in local politics. Not surprisingly, I jumped at the chance."
"You must have spent a lot of time with the Wentworths."
"I worked with the Senator no less than three times a week. After a time, Jenny Beth started suggesting that I stay for dinner. She even gave me my own guest room so I could bunk up overnight. That way I could review my notes with her the next day."
Sounded to me like Jenny Beth had done a super job of keeping old Adrian under her thumb. I thought back to Poppy and his complaints about Josiah Wentworth. Honora had also mentioned the negative local sentiment surrounding the late Senator. But Adrian seemed to have glossed over that sticking point.
"Did you talk to a lot of people? To try and round out your portrait?” I asked.
"I met all the movers and shakers. I’m walking away with a huge contact list. Big names on both sides of the pond. Jenny Beth did yeoman’s work coming up with the details for me. She called everyone in advance to clear the way.”
I just bet she did. She probably told them exactly what to say!
“The timing for my book launch couldn’t be better. I’ll admit that I was a little worried when Jenny Beth insisted that the book come out this fall. That seemed to be rushing things a bit. But she did the ground work and I did the writing, so all’s well that ends well.”
“When exactly will the book be available?”
“It'll be in the bookstores for the holiday season. I’m sure you’ll want to buy copies for all your friends. They’ll make great prezzies."
I took it that “prezzies” was Brit speak for presents.
I started to ask, but Adrian was t
alking again. “Jenny Beth will handle the signings and events here domestically. I'm already scheduled to do presentations and book signings all over Europe. Just think! I’ll be an international star. You can say that you knew me when!"
“Right. Lucky, lucky me. Gee, look at the time,” I said, pretending to check my cell phone. “Um, it was great catching up with you.”
“I’ll get this,” he said, tossing a five-dollar bill down on the counter.
That amount would barely cover the tab.
"I'll leave a tip," I said.
I have no use for people who stiff servers. None at all. Adrian might be on his way to becoming an international sensation, but he was still a cheap-o creep-o. Waving down a waitress, I handed over a five-dollar bill and asked for ones and quarters. Then I put $2.50 next to my cup, and the same amount into my pocket. The quarters clanked against my lucky penny.
"I'll walk you back to the store," he said.
I hesitated because that last cup of coffee had gone right through me. Or maybe it was the stress of dealing with Adrian Green’s massive ego. I excused myself to use the ladies’ room, but it was occupied. I would have to wait until I was back at the store.
As we crossed the street, I tried to keep the chatter light. “You’re going to miss this Florida sunshine!”
“Yes, of course,” said Adrian. "But it’s time for me to move on. I do wish they had caught Kathy’s killer. It feels terribly unsettling to have that crime unsolved."
"Really?" I tried to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
I would have never guessed that Kathy's murder had bothered Adrian. The man seemed incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.
"I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, as I unlocked my front door. “Whatever happened to that photo? The one Kathy purchased from your shop? She told me all about it, you know."
“Yes, well, there was some sort of a mix up. The picture was returned to our shop. Kathy wanted her mother to have it, so I gave it to Mrs. Simmons right after the funeral.”
"A mix up?" He sounded skeptical.
I locked the front door behind us. I urgently needed to visit the restroom, so I walked briskly in that direction and said, "Yes. It was a mix up. Please excuse me."
With that, I slipped inside the john. I took my time in there, flushing the toilet repeatedly. I did not want to prolong this visit. I’d had enough of Adrian Green. Time to say goodbye, farewell, and don’t let the door hit your backside on the way out.
"I think that coffee didn’t sit well," I said, as I stepped out of the bathroom.
He was leaning against one of our file cabinets. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he had a sour look on his face.
Fine. That made two of us in bad moods.
I tried to smile. "I better let you go, because I'm sure you're busy, getting ready to leave and all. I have a bunch of paperwork to do."
But instead of heading for the front door, he turned and pointed at my bulletin board. “That's the picture Kathy bought, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said, but I didn’t tell him it was a photocopy.
"I’ll take it with,” he said, snatching it down.
91
~Cara~
"Kathy made a big deal over this. She told me that the photo was one-of-a-kind. I didn’t get to see it, but she described it to me," said Adrian, as he held the picture between his fingers
"It is one-of-a-kind," I said.
His voice climbed a notch. "But you just told me that you gave the photo to her mother! Why did you lie? This can’t possibly be a one off!"
“There was only one original. Skye copied it for me in case…in case…” I struggled to come up with a good reason, “I damaged it while carrying it in my purse.”
"So that one is a copy?"
"Yes. I tacked it on the bulletin board to remind myself to give the original to Mrs. Simmons when I went to the funeral.”
Of course, that was a lie. I’d given the original to Nathan. But Adrian didn’t need to know that.
"And you have no idea where this photo came from? Or what it's about?" Adrian kept getting louder and louder. I didn't like the look in his eyes.
“It’s about Senator Wentworth and two boys. Look, you told me he worked with youth. That’s the point, right?” I spread my hands in what I hoped was a placating gesture.
“That other woman—Skye?—where did she put the scan?” Adrian advanced on me. Closing the distance between us.
"On my hard drive,” I said. I felt very uncomfortable. This wasn’t like when EveLynn invaded my personal space. This felt threatening. “We only have one computer.” I turned and pointed at my office.
Adrian stared at me. His eyes had gone cold. His mouth was narrow and tight. “You’re going to unplug that computer and hand it over to me.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” he said, mocking me. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out something thin and black. At first I thought it was a comb. Then I heard the click as a thin silver blade snapped into place. I'd heard about switchblades but never seen one. They look deadly. The long slender knife sent a chill through me, turning my fingers numb.
"I am not about to let you ruin everything for me,” he said.
"Whoa!" I backed away. I couldn't believe he was pulling a knife on me? What was he? A street thug?
Jack whimpered in his crate. “Hush,” I told my dog, sternly. I didn’t want Jack to get hurt.
“We’re going into your office,” said Adrian. “You’re going to unplug your hard drive and hand it to me.”
"Sure. No problem. Let’s just stay calm," I said. My hands were shaking, so I jammed them deep into my pockets. My fingertips touched the cool metal of the quarter.
“Get going,” he said with a snarl. He jabbed his knife at me. Instinctively, my hands flew up, and I jumped back.
One of the coins fell out of my pocket and rolled under MJ’s desk.
"Uh, my money," I said, and I sank into a squat to pick it up. It was a reflexive action, and really dumb under the circumstances.
Fortunately for me, Adrian thought it hilarious. "Oh, dear. She's lost her copper penny. Go ahead, you stupid cow. Get down on your hands and knees and search for it."
I knelt down slowly. Jack stared at me with those big brown eyes of his.
I inched my way across my floor boards. I wished I could crawl away and hide somewhere safe!
My backside was up in the air. I guess it made an attractive target. Adrian snickered and gave me a quick kick in the butt. The blow hurt more than it should have—and it sent me sprawling face down. A burning sensation told me that I’d split my bottom lip when I smacked the floor. I rolled to a kneeling position and wiped the blood away from my mouth.
That’s when I spotted my lucky penny.
And Honora's missing hat pin.
92
~Cara~
Using my body to shield what I was doing, I reached for both the money and the hatpin. Once I had both in my hand, I slowly pushed myself to my hands and knees. Glancing down, I could see a big smear of blood on my tee shirt. The wet burgundy contrasted starkly with the yellow fabric. By grabbing the side of the refrigerator, I helped myself to my feet. I took my time standing, while putting both the hat pin and the money in my pocket.
"Get a move on," said Adrian. “I’m flying first class to London in a couple of hours. Don’t want to miss my flight.”
I didn’t want to turn my back on him, so I walked backwards to my desk. All the while, I was thinking about my options.
"Sid has a couple of extra wires plugged in," I warned Adrian. "I don’t know what all of them do. It might take a minute to get the hard drive unhooked.”
He smiled but his eyes were cold as he followed me into my office. “Then you better hurry.”
"So you killed her? You murdered Kathy for that photo?" "No."
"But you know who did?" That was a rhetorical question.
�
�Maybe.”
I shivered and bent down, keeping my eyes on him. I pretended to struggle with one of the cords. “Sorry, but I can’t get this. Could you help?”
Adrian cursed and stomped over. While he had his temper tantrum, I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered the cool shaft of the hat pin. Slowly I rotated the hat pin so that the knob was tucked against my palm.
“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” he said. He rested the hand holding the knife on my desktop. With his free fingers, he reached for the hard drive.
I figured that I had one chance. After that, I would lose the advantage of surprise. To pull off my plan would take all my strength. I would have to be swift and focused. It was going to hurt me almost as much as it might hurt Adrian.
But I had to do something! I took a deep breath.
"I can't believe you have this old piece of—" he started to complain again.
I plunged Honora's hat pin into Adrian Green's hand.
93
~Cara~
"Argh!" Adrian screamed. The knife toppled out of his fingers. With a loud thunk, it hit the floor.
I shrank away from him. I wanted to make a run for it, but I didn’t want to squeeze between the desk and Adrian. Plus, I thought I’d pass out from the pain in my hand. It was so intense that I literally saw stars.
The human palm isn’t designed to be used like a hammer. But that’s exactly what I’d done when I slammed the hatpin into the wood. My only satisfaction was that Adrian seemed to be hurting worse than I was.
I'd bought myself some time, but I wasn’t sure how much. And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t get away from here. Adrian wiggled his fingers and howled. He cussed a blue streak. His right hand was stuck flat against the wood. With a gasp, he tried to yank himself free, but that only provoked another yowl of pain.
"Y-y-you!" he screamed.
With his free hand he leaned over and slapped me up the side of my face.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 120
