“Okay, thank you,” I said. “And I didn’t take the money.” He smiled as I turned to head for the door. My hand paused on the knob, looking back at him. “One last question, did you go see Ethel in the hospital?”
“No, Lidia told me the car accident happened over the weekend on a trip up to Kansas. I assumed Ethel was in a hospital up north somewhere.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it happened outside Texas.”
But as I said it, I knew something wasn’t right.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Once I returned to my office, I noticed my head kept swiveling sideways to look at Lidia. Something didn’t add up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I went through Lisa’s payroll records again and stared at the $175K withdrawal. However, if Ethel and Lidia were both in Kansas during the time the check was written, it gave them perfect alibis.
Digging through my purse, I pulled up Detective Sutton’s number. After a few pleasantries, I got to the point. “I forgot to tell you something – probably because it’s irrelevant – but Ethel can walk.” After relating her getting out of her powerchair at the grocery store, I waited for his take on the matter.
“You’re right, I don’t get the connection. If she’s still reliant in anyway on the chair, it suggests she’s incapable of pushing someone in the stairwell.” He sighed. “And too, we know she wasn’t in the lounge the day Penny ate your sandwich.”
“Yes, I see your point. Still, I thought it might be relevant and didn’t want to be accused of withholding any information.”
He chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the phoneline. “Well, you never know. I’ll check into it and see what I can find. Listen, Paige,” he said after a moment’s pause, his voice turning serious, “I’ve already talked to Paul and he was going to relay this information to you. But since you’ve called, I’ll tell you myself. First off, we located the bat in David’s car. It still had some traces of blood on it which have been tested positive as being yours.” Another long pause followed, then I heard him clear his throat. “When we searched David’s house, his bedroom was a shrine, with one entire wall covered in pictures of you. His phone contained several thousand pictures of you, and there were quite a few on his work computer. He has his mother believing the two of you are in a serious relationship and she’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
“My God,” I muttered, finding it hard to understand David’s thought processes.
“Yes, he’s not thinking normally. Now I don’t know if this puts you in more danger or not, but I wanted you to be aware.”
“Okay, well thank you for the information.”
As soon as I disconnected the phone, I found my nerves shattered and my throat dry. Grabbing my water bottle from the corner of my desk, I gulped the remaining contents and wiped a dribble from my chin. David was clearly off his rocker and no one had noticed. What other dark, sinister and deviant things was he hiding?
David’s mother thought I was his girlfriend. This new-found fact ran in a never-ending circle within my brain. Hadn’t she wondered if her son had a relationship problem? For God’s sake, if his bedroom contained a wall of photos, all taken of me at odd distances and weird places – and she’d never met me – you’d think she’d suspect something was afoul.
What if she knew David wasn’t normal and couldn’t get a real girlfriend? If so, did it make her complacent in his stalker behavior? What if I’d gone to his house for supper? Would the stalker in David have ramped up with his mother encouraging her introverted son to keep me? An image formed in my head, picturing him holding me captive in some dark, dank basement for the rest of my life. A shudder ran up my spine at the thought of being left on a soiled mattress, chained to a wall, and tortured by David raping me from that day forward, until my emaciated body gave up life’s effort. David’s mental unbalance possibly made him dangerous, and that was all my mind could comprehend.
Thank goodness he wasn’t at work today. But I needed to figure out a way to get him away from me. Firing wouldn’t be enough, not if he followed me everywhere. He was probably following me to Paul’s house each night now. My nerves were on edge, thinking Paul’s coming into my life had probably set him off.
Or was he set off before them? I tightly closed my eyes, willing myself to remember the evening in the stairwell. I remembered hearing a noise coming from behind me. Surely, I would’ve looked back to distinguish the source. It would explain why the back of my head hit the wall first. I would have turned around and been facing my attacker. Whose face did I see? Could it have been David’s? Did he leave work and go down to the twelfth floor to wait for Julie and me to pass by and then come in and attack us? Someone did. And for certain, he was there. The blood on his bat had tested positive as being mine. He was there. He was there.
But try as I might, I couldn’t remember anything except leaving work with Julie, walking from the fifteenth floor down. Julie accused me of embezzlement, and I had demanded to see the proof. I remember being so upset, finding it hard to believe my good friend wouldn’t believe me. Then, between the twelfth and eleventh floor, all hell broke loose. I couldn’t remember anything past that point until I regained consciousness approximately an hour and half later.
My head hurt from trying to put the pieces together. Unable to think properly, I called it a day and made my way over to Paul’s condo. After downing two Aspirin with a glass of water, I stretched out on the couch with a pillow under my head. I was still there when Paul arrived home.
“Are you okay?” he asked after seeing me curled on the couch with two cats sprawled out all over me.
“Just a bit of a headache,” I downplayed.
He settled next to me in the crook of my waist, gently pushing Freddy to the end of the couch. “I take it you heard about David … and his shrine.”
“And his mother believing we were in a serious relationship. He’s off his rocker, isn’t he?”
“Everything is pointing in that direction. But unless we can find the missing security tape, we can’t prove he was the one in the stairwell with you and Julie. It’s far too circumstantial. Hopefully, the detective will find something more. He’s still going through David’s computer.” He rubbed his fingertips soothingly over my forehead. “Detective Sutton said you were concerned about Ethel being able to walk. What were your thoughts on that?”
My shoulders shrugged, pushing against the pillow. “I don’t know. My imagination is putting everyone in the stairwell … David, Lisa, Lidia, and even Ethel. I guess I’m paranoid.”
“Well, as Joseph Heller once said, ‘Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’.”
I shook my head and gave him a thin smile. “Then again, I could be losing my mind.”
“You’re under a lot of stress right now … especially with this birthday party. After tomorrow night, at least it’ll be off your shoulders.”
“I hope you’re right,” I acquiesced.
But in the back of my mind, I imagined tomorrow night’s party being the culmination of all that was evil.
Chapter Sixty-Three
The next morning, I was up early. A ton of things needed to be done before the party. First things, first, I needed a dress to wear. It was the first pressure of the day because normally my selection would have been decided weeks ago. But not this year. And after four shops, I was beginning to panic. Just when I was about to have a nervous breakdown, I found a beautiful, full-length, golden dress with pearls across the bodice. It was a little fancy for the occasion, but considering it was an elegant affair and I was the hostess, I snatched it up and called it done.
Paul had accompanied me on my journey. “Sorry,” I apologized at the register, feeling guilty for running him ragged.
“I’m not leaving you alone … not after finding out how weird David is. For all we know, he’s watching you from the parking lot right now.”
“I hope not.” I made a face, hating the idea of David following me around.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered,” he boasted, taking on a manly pose to show off his muscles. “Besides, I’m enjoying watching you try things on.” He wiggled his brows and grinned, eliciting a giggle from me.
After paying for my purchase, we grabbed a late lunch and headed for the office. We were dressed in our regular clothes, me in faded blue jeans, a tan pullover and a pair of white tennis shoes, and Paul in dark jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of black trainers. Changes for the evening clothes were left in my office while Paul and I went up one floor to prep for the party.
“Where shall we start?” he asked, his eyes gazing around the large rectangular conference room. The entrance door was at the far end, opposite a stage which was generally used for presentations.
“The balloons,” I answered, heading for a storage closet to drag out the helium tank. It was something the company owned because we did balloons for every team building event, product engineering launch, and various other functions. Paul assisted me with the tank, as well as digging out a ladder.
“I’ll begin blowing these up, if you’ll work on the banner,” I suggested, ripping into a huge package of assorted gold, black and cream-colored blow-ups.
“Yes ma’am,” he responded, snapping to attention and giving me a silly salute. Setting up the ladder at one end of the stage, he attached the “Happy 60th” banner. Repositioning the ladder, he extended the pennant in midair from one side of the stage to the other, making sure each of the glossy gold and black letters faced the audience.
We hadn’t been working long when Amy and Jeff arrived to assist. While Jeff and Paul pushed the long corporate table sideways and centered it at the front of the stage, Amy and I worked on setting up the just-delivered tables and chairs.
As soon as the linens were in place, Amy and I set about tying balloons to the flower arrangements – each consisting of creamy roses, placed in gold-colored vases – and then placing them as centerpieces on each table.
Hours later, we had hung fairy lights crisscrossing the room, mixed with shiny, gold streamers twinkling from the ceiling. Glowing candles in a soft lavender scent dotted each of the tables. The caterers, as well as the band, arrived to set up. Everything was falling into place without a hitch. Even the magnificent, six-foot-tall oil derrick ice sculpture made its perfect, dramatic appearance at the entry into the party room.
When everything was in place, I stood back and admired the results. It was everything I imagined for an art deco, Hollywood glam ambience, right down to the band practicing the music lineup for the night by playing Unforgettable by Nat “King” Cole.
“It’s amazing,” Amy congratulated, giving me a hug.
“You did an excellent job,” Paul added with an assuring nod of his head.
“Your boss should give you a raise,” Jeff said, unaware of the generous increase in salary I was now the benefactor of.
“Thanks guys,” I said with a proud smile. “And thank you for helping. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
The place was a beehive of workers as a long table was set up with warming burners for the food being carted in. After checking on everyone to make sure things were going according to plan, we ducked back downstairs to change clothes in the restroom. After rinsing my face and applying new makeup, I set about pinning my hair on top of my head.
“Jesus, let me do it,” Amy complained, coming to my aid because I was rotten at anything past a simple ponytail. She took over, expertly twisting my hair into a sophisticated French twist with the use of bobby pins and industrial-strength hairspray.
“I love your dress,” I said to Amy, admiring the shiny, silver, spaghetti-strapped number hitting her just above the knees. She added a pair of matching three-inch heels, and for jewelry a solitaire diamond necklace sparkled from her long, graceful neckline. She too had pinned her hair up in an elegant roll.
Once I changed into my golden movie-star dress, something I imagined Audrey Hepburn wearing, I added a small strand of pearls and a pair of pearl earrings. My creamy-colored shoes had two-inch heels, because if I did anything higher, I’d fall and kill myself going up on the stage.
Paul and Jeff were waiting outside the ladies’ room for us to emerge. Amy whistled at the debonair gentlemen, both dressed in dark tuxedos and black bowties. Jeff was wearing a white shirt, but Paul had somehow managed to find a gold-colored shirt, unbelievably matching the dress I had only bought earlier today.
“You look so handsome,” I said easing up beside him. It was all I could do to keep from wrapping my arms around him and tugging his lips to mine. So far, Paul had kept up the attorney/client boundary line, leaving me with only my imagination of what a kiss from him would be like.
“Not even close to how beautiful you look,” he said with a wide smile stretching the limits of his mouth. We stored our regular clothes in my office, locking everything back up. “Shall we?” Paul asked, offering his elbow in escort to the elevator. Jeff followed suit with Amy, and they fell in line behind us.
Back in the party room, the food preparers were still banging serving dishes around and placing hors d’oeuvre platters on each of the tables. The bartenders were setting up, clanking glasses as they lined up wine, champagne and tumblers, next to water and tea glasses. The band was now playing Al Martino’s I Love You More and More Every Day.
“May I have this dance?” Paul asked, offering his hand to me.
My eyes quickly surveyed the room. Everything was handling itself and since none of the guests had arrived yet, I hoped I wouldn’t make too much of a spectacle of myself. I had two left feet and had only danced a handful of times in my entire life. In fact, I’d been hosting Mr. Harrington’s birthday party for the last ten years, and Paul was the first date I had ever brought.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I graciously accepted. “But I must warn you, I’ll probably step on your toes.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you weigh enough to hurt me. Let’s give it a whirl.” He took my hand and guided me to the front of the band where we’d left a small dance floor area. Keeping his grasp with one hand, he placed the other on my hip. I rested my hand on his shoulder and we peered into each other’s eyes. He tugged me closer as the song played in my ears, I love you more and more every day. Though he wasn’t saying the words to me, or even singing the lyrics, his eyes were speaking volumes. My heart was skipping beats as he held me against him, fueling a feeling I wanted to grow as time moved forward.
Behind us, Amy and Jeff had joined in, slow dancing to the soft music. We were in our own little world, enjoying our own peaceful thoughts … until.
“Oh, Paige, darling, everything looks like a fantasy land. You’ve really outdone yourself this year,” my mother crooned from the front doorway. She bounced her eyes around the room, taking in the twinkle lights and then admiring the centerpieces. She was dressed in an ivory-colored dress with a black jacket and carrying a black clutch. My father, dressed in a black suit with an ivory shirt and tie, stood beside her, probably wishing he were at home in his recliner.
I wanted to cry. Paul and I had never been this close and pulling apart from him because of my mother’s appearance proved to be an enormous disappointment. Under my breath, I muttered to my handsome date, “Brace yourself.” I turned to plaster on a smile for my mother, but he tugged me back.
“You’ve warned me plenty. And I’ve already told you, I don’t scare easily. So, don’t worry.”
A relieved sigh whooshed out of my lungs. “I’ll hold you to it,” I challenged.
My mother was already halfway across the room, eyeballing Paul. “You must be the handsome attorney I’ve heard so much about. Paul, isn’t it?”
Paul took a few steps in her direction, his arm guiding me along with him. “Yes, ma’am … Paul Williams. You must be Ellen. Paige has told me so much about you, but she failed to tell me how absolutely stunning you are.” He stuck out his hand and my mother clamped onto it like a vice.
“Oh, oh,
” she giggled out, grasping the hell out of his hand. “You’re so kind.” Still hanging onto Paul, she turned to my father. “Charles, isn’t he just the kindest? Our Paige has got herself a real catch this time. Doesn’t she, Charles?”
By now, my father had caught up to her. “Charles Davis,” my father introduced, sticking out his hand. My father had never attended one of these functions before. My mother had dragged him along with her this time because, for the first time, I had a date, making it a monumental event in my mother’s eyes.
Paul clasped my father’s hand with a firm pump. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Just call me Charles,” my dad instructed. “And this is my wife, Ellen … just call her Ellen.”
“The place is lovely,” my mother commented, giving the room another once over. She turned back to Paul. “You’re the first time she’s ever had a guy around.” She darted her eyes to my dad. “Her father and I thought for sure she’d never find anyone. We were considering an arranged marriage. Weren’t we, Charles?”
“Mom,” I barked. “Don’t push Paul. We’ve only just met.” I gave Paul an I’m-sorry look.
Paul grinned at me, flashing his beautiful white teeth. “Not scared,” he whispered to me under his breath.
My mother bombarded Paul with question after question, wanting to know if he was an only child, where he grew up, what his parents were like, had he been married before, and how much money did he make as an attorney.
“Mom,” I groaned, “don’t ask him about his salary. Good grief.”
“You’re right. Sorry, Paul. My Paige makes a buttload of money now. She can support you if you’re a lousy attorney.”
“Mom!”
“Oh dear. I do hope you’re not a lousy attorney since you’re representing our daughter.” She bit at her lip and drilled her eyes into Paul. “You’re not a lousy attorney, are you?”
A Deadly Promotion Page 25
