“That’s great!”
“I’m pretty happy, too. I’m so excited I had to call you. I guess I’ll pull down the eBay auction. He’s overnighting me a cashier’s check.”
“So, when do you get the Mustang?”
Ricky laughed. “You know me so well. I called the guy selling it, and I’m going to go out there this afternoon and give him a deposit.”
“Why don’t you wait until you get the check and it clears, just in case. Your buyer might change his mind, not send out the check, and you’ll be stuck having to buy the Mustang.”
“You’re right. I guess I’m just so excited. This is the first car I’ve ever listed on eBay. I didn’t realize it would sell so fast. There’s still five days left on the auction.”
“I’m sure happy for you, although I’ll miss Monster. It’s an awesome car.” Rhetta chuckled. “Are you sure you want to get a Ford?” They both laughed. Ricky had always protested Fords. However, she’d confessed to Rhetta in what she admitted was a moment of weakness that she’d always yearned for a first year Mustang. She vowed to paint it bright red.
That reminded Rhetta. “By the way, who do you know out your way who drives a brand new red Mustang convertible?”
“No one out my way, but Jeremy has one. Why do you ask?”
“I saw it on your road when I went out to your place the other day. I meant to ask you then, but forgot.” Rhetta vividly remembered the one-finger salute, but didn’t mention it to Ricky. Another reason to dislike Jeremy.
Chapter 10
Wednesday afternoon the Streak’s outside thermometer read 102 when Rhetta slid behind the wheel. Before she’d locked up her office for the day, she’d glanced at the weather icon on her desktop, and if it was to be believed, the area was experiencing the hottest September on record. Inside, the SUV had to be twenty degrees hotter. She cranked on the air conditioner, setting the fan to high speed and rolled down the window to blow some of the heat out. Sweat beads immediately popped out on her forehead.
Her cell rang just as she began pulling out of the parking lot. She’d forgotten to set the iPhone on the console. She stopped and groped around inside her purse, finally locating the instrument after upturning the purse on to the passenger seat. Just as she answered, the phone quit. Crap.
She didn’t recognize the number, so she tried calling back. She didn’t leave a message after hearing a generic phone company pre-recorded message. Probably a wrong number.
The phone rang again. Before she could speak, a bubbly sounding Ricky said, “Hey, girlfriend, what are you doing?” Ricky was perpetually cheerful.
“Putting everything back in my purse, since I had to dump it out for a call I just got and no one was on the line.” Rhetta stuffed everything back in her bag and sat back, relishing the now frigid air blasting out of the vents.
“Hope you didn’t cuss too bad.”
“I want you to know I didn’t cuss at all,” Rhetta said. She didn’t count crap as a cuss word.
“Right. Listen here, my friend, we’re having a big barbeque and get-together at Jeremy’s mother’s swanky place this Saturday. She just got a pool installed and we’re going to break it in. I’d love for you and Randolph to come.”
“Isn’t September a little late for a pool party?” Rhetta wiped a tissue across her sweating brow, and reconsidered. “I guess it wouldn’t be, not when it’s a hundred plus outside. What am I saying?” Perspiration continued to drip down her nose. Since she also felt her back and neck sweating in spite of the frigid air, she knew she was experiencing that perk of being forty-plus. As Ricky chattered on about the event, Rhetta wondered when Mrs. Spears moved into the house. She’d have to ask Ricky when she paused to breathe. According to Ricky, after losing her home Mrs. Spears had rented a two-bedroom duplex, which was a far cry from owning a luxury home and getting a new pool.
Ricky was still prattling. “The pool was supposed to be finished two months ago, but the company was way behind after its huge spring sale, so they finally got hers finished right before Labor Day.”
Rhetta started to decline, since she didn’t like Jeremy, and Randolph didn’t like pools. However, she’d never met Mrs. Spears, so curiosity prevailed and she accepted the invite. Randolph would mutter and fuss that he wanted to spend the weekend doing anything else but sitting around a pool. He never swam in them, claiming there were too many possibilities of swimming in substances other than water.
“Sure, that sounds like fun.” Liar. “What time and where?”
Ricky rattled off the address and Rhetta tapped it into her phone. “What can I bring?” She immediately thought about heading to Primo Vino! to pick up a couple of bottles of local wine. Randolph didn’t drink anymore, but she was sure everyone else there would partake.
“Mrs. Spears is having the event catered, so I’d say you probably don’t need to bring anything. Except if you want to stop at Primo Vino!”
Rhetta laughed. “Who knows who so well now?”
“Ciao.” Ricky signed off before Rhetta had a chance to ask her about Mrs. Spears’ new fancy digs. Oh, well, she’d find out this weekend.
Rhetta placed the phone on the console and pulled out on to Kingshighway. Hmm. I guess Mrs. Spears is recovering financially since losing her husband and her home. Maybe Mr. Spears had a big life insurance policy. A catered party and a new pool? She recognized the address as being one of the stately older homes near Southeast Missouri State University. How did the widow Spears get a loan to buy another house so soon after the foreclosure? Rhetta knew she couldn’t have gotten a loan—unless Jeremy had signed for her. He might have. He was single, and had a decent income, if she remembered more of Ricky’s details about him. However, Ricky had commented that Jeremy wasn’t making money on his project yet, and couldn’t have financed the subdivision without help from his California investors. His credit couldn’t have been good enough to buy a half million-dollar house for his mother.
Mrs. Spears must’ve fallen into some major money some other way.
Chapter 11
At six o’clock Saturday morning the thermometer was already hovering at 85, with the high expected to be near 100 once again. The local weatherman declared this would be the thirteenth straight day of 100-plus temperatures, and would thus set a new record for a September heat wave. Rhetta groaned, and poured herself another cup of coffee.
Randolph padded down the stairs from the upstairs bedroom. “Got some more of that brain juice?” Rhetta found his favorite mug and filled it for him. He joined her at the kitchen counter.
“Do we really have to go to this shindig today?” He sipped, then peered at her over the brim of his cup.
“Sweets, if you don’t want to go, you know I won’t insist. I’m doing this for Ricky. I know she wants me to get better acquainted with Jeremy, so I agreed. I didn’t mean to obligate you.”
Randolph stood and flexed his shoulder muscles, then slid an arm over her shoulder. “If it won’t upset you, I think I’ll stay here. I don’t like being outside in this heat, and I’ve got a ton of work to do.”
His “work” wasn’t a job, but it consumed him nonetheless. Since his retirement from the bench, he’d been painting steadily. He lost several work days in the weeks following his accident. Now that he was well, he painted feverishly, preparing for a one-man show scheduled for the first week of October at the Rivers West Gallery, the art co-operative in downtown Cape Girardeau where he was a member. In addition, his paintings had been selling briskly on Etsy, an internet site for artists. “At the rate I’m going, I’m going to need to clone myself.”
“Are you complaining?” she asked and he grinned.
“I remember the old saying about being careful what you wish for.” He hugged her and kissed her gently. “Thanks.”
She hugged him back, and kissed him solidly. “I see the cats are ready for their breakfast,” she said, and headed for the sliding door to t
he deck. The four felines were seated side by side, staring at them, noses pressed to the glass. Although each cat was a rescue cat, all had banded together to stare inside, and thus train their people to feed them.
* * *
Rhetta cruised along North Henderson Street past the campus and turned left onto Medford Circle. The huge trees lining the cul-de-sac formed a picture-perfect canopy, while the sun sparkled through the leafy overhang. She easily located the Spears’ address. The two-story brick Federalist manor was the only house on the circle with a plethora of vehicles parked in the driveway and crammed into every possible street spot. The old money upscale neighborhood homes all enjoyed large garages and paved driveways, so most likely these vehicles, ranging from Escalades to Beemers, belonged to the guests of the home she sought. She circled the circle twice without locating a parking spot, so she returned to Henderson Street and parked in the lot near the University Center. With no classes on Saturday, there were plenty of open parking spaces.
Sliding the straps of the tote bag containing the wine onto one shoulder, she slid her purse onto the other, and began the three-block trek to Mrs. Spears’ home. Crap, I forgot my cell phone. She returned to her SUV and realized she’d forgotten to lock the Trailblazer’s doors. “Good thing I had to come back,” she muttered. When she snatched her phone, she noticed a missed call. She recognized the same strange out-of-state number that had called her earlier in the week. She locked the SUV, and leaned against the driver’s door. A few clicks and she was online at 411.com, where she checked the reverse number locator. It was registered to an Illinois cell phone, but there was no other information available.
Who could this be? Wonder if it’s a customer? Her cell number was on her business cards, and on the bank’s website, so being a Saturday whoever called probably figured she wouldn’t be at her office. But why hadn’t the caller left a message? Either time? This second call couldn’t be a wrong number again. Rhetta’s answering voice message clearly indicated who she was and what her office hours were.
She was still thinking about the call and staring at her phone as she strolled to the sidewalk when a bright red Mustang convertible pulled up. Jeremy waved at her, properly this time, she noted.
“Hi, Rhetta. Let me give you a lift to the house.” He swept alongside the curb, leaned over and opened the passenger door from the inside. A gentleman would have gotten out and opened the door. He hadn’t earned any points. She thought about telling him so.
Instead, she considered Ricky and for her friend’s sake, she forced herself to smile and act grateful. “Thanks. It’s darned hot out here.” Rhetta leaned in and placed the tote bag and her purse in the back seat. She stuffed the phone into the pocket of her white capris, and slid into the passenger seat. “Looks like there’s already a crowd at your mother’s. Where will you park? I circled around and had to come back to the Henderson lot to find a spot.”
Jeremy’s perfect lips parted, displaying teeth in what he probably thought was a winning smile. “I’ll go in the back way up the alley. It’s our private entrance.” His arrogance oozed from every pore, but she bit her tongue. For Ricky. This day wasn’t going to be easy.
He beamed a smile at her that was undoubtedly meant to disarm her. Someone had obviously paid an orthodontist a tidy sum on his behalf. Although she smiled back, Rhetta knew it was her phony one again. It was hard to be genuine with this guy. She wanted to like him for her friend’s sake, but she had met too many self-important men exactly like Jeremy, and just couldn’t warm up to him. His whole demeanor was cookie-cutter yuppie, from his bleached blond longish hair that he kept pushing back out of his eyes as he drove, to the loafers worn without socks. Having the top down didn’t bother Rhetta. Her hair was so short it barely moved.
She studied his profile and could see why Ricky was taken with him. He was middle-aged handsome, with just the right amount of creases and lines in his tanned face to upgrade it from boyish. Apparently, he could be very appealing. He wore white chino shorts, which showed off muscular tanned legs. She remembered the middle finger salute, though, and decided his charm was all show.
As Jeremy zipped up the alley, he waved at an elderly gentleman in a security guard uniform.
“Do you have your own private security here?” Rhetta asked as she whipped her head around to stare at the guard.
“No, just for today. With so many people invited, Anjanette thought it would be best, especially to protect our neighbors’ privacy.”
“Who is Anjanette?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Anjanette is your hostess, my dear Rhetta. She is also my mother.”
Chapter 12
Jeremy eased the red powerhouse into an alley and along a private rear circle drive. When he held up and aimed a remote opener, a wrought iron gate swung out noiselessly. Nestled under towering cottonwood trees behind the main residence sat a second house, a charming brick, gambrel-roofed structure with double garage doors and a massive wood entry door that took up the entire front. At the edge of the yard stood a majestic oak tree, one of the largest Rhetta had ever seen. She heard a gaggle of voices, laughter and water splashing from somewhere past the humongous flower garden that lay between where they were, and where she supposed the pool area was.
Stopping at the garage, Jeremy spoke into a voice-activated garage door opener, and one of the large wooden garage doors creaked upward.
“This used to be the stables, years ago. Then it became a garage sometime in the 1930’s.” Jeremy began a commentary as they sat in the idling Mustang waiting for the heavy doors to creep upward. “While it was a stable, there was a blacksmith shop, right over there near that oak tree.” He nodded toward the tree Rhetta had just admired.
While driving the circle drive looking for a place to park, Rhetta had noticed a large attached garage that had been a tasteful addition to the main house in front. “So, this is a second garage?”
“In a sense, yes.” He beamed at her again. “But I also live in the apartment upstairs.”
Ricky hasn’t told me any of this. She realized that she’d never asked many questions about Jeremy because she didn’t care for him. Wonder if Ricky had picked up on that and that’s why she didn’t rave too much about him? She’d find Ricky and ask her all about him. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why Jeremy wasn’t with Ricky. Where had he been? When he began to ease the car forward, she said, “Can you just let me out here?”
“I thought you might want to see how nicely the carriage house turned out. Ricky said you remodeled your farmhouse, so I thought you might want a tour.” He sounded disappointed because Rhetta wanted out of the car. She didn’t know why he wanted to show her his apartment when she barely knew him.
Tour? What makes him think I want a tour? “All right. That would be nice.” No, it wouldn’t. She had to admit she was curious. Okay, nosy.
Inside the garage, the floors were painted a gleaming grey, with not a speck of dirt anywhere. In the other parking space rested a Chevy four-wheel-drive dually, also spotless. The driver’s door bore a green oval with three black letters, JSP. His work truck, she guessed. Pretty sweet work truck. It didn’t look like it had ever worked a day in its waxed and polished life. The maroon paint gleamed like new.
He motioned toward the stairs at the back of the garage. “After you.”
She climbed the new wooden staircase, and waited at the top of the stairs as Jeremy eased past her with keys in hand. There wasn’t much room on the three foot-square landing. When he reached around her, his arm draped casually over her shoulder. She flinched. Was he flirting with her? She needed to make a quick exit. Maybe she was over-reacting. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
The door opened, and in spite of being uneasy with Jeremy, she was in awe of the gorgeous interior. She stepped in as he waited for her to enter ahead of him, and took in the luxurious apartment. The gleaming kitchen space sparkled with new, brushed stainless steel appliances tucked
into custom cherry wood cabinetry and granite countertops. Two chocolate brown leather couches formed an L around a glass top table in front of a rock fireplace. The air inside the loft was pleasantly cool. Soft lighting glowed from a back room, which she assumed was the bedroom area.
He must have noticed her looking in that direction. “Come, let me show you the master suite.” He began walking toward the bedroom.
When she didn’t follow he walked back to her and took her hand as though it the most natural thing in the world. She pulled back as though singed with a red-hot fireplace poker. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I know you want this as much as I do, Rhetta. Come on.”
She whirled around and seized the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. It was locked. “Let me out of here,” she said, spinning back to him, her temper flaring. He’d come up silently behind her, and stood inches from her face. He reached out and seized her shoulders pulling her to him. “Stop it. Right now.” She reached up and pushed against his chest.
Instead of stopping, he leaned in against her. She pushed again, but he was solidly built, and didn’t move. She turned her face away.
Anger boiled over inside of her and she gritted her teeth. “Don’t make me hurt you. Open the damn door.” He threw his head back and laughed. She seized the opportunity and brought her knee up squarely in his groin.
His blue eyes widened in surprise as he slumped over, clutching his injury. She held her hand out. “Give me the key, Jeremy.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the key. “Bitch,” he groaned, as he handed it to her. “You’ll pay for this.”
She snatched it, and unlocked the door. “Thanks for the ride.” She tossed the key at him and smiled as it bounced off his face. She slammed the door and bolted down the stairs.
Chapter 13
At the foot of the stairway down to the garage, Rhetta paused to catch her breath. The air there wasn’t nearly as cool as the upstairs apartment. She began to feel her hair dampen from the humidity. Although sweat broke out across her forehead, she felt chilled. The encounter with Jeremy combined with the odor of car tires and warm engine made her stomach queasy. Still aggravated, she jerked open the Mustang’s passenger door and reached in the back to retrieve the tote bag containing the wine, along with her purse. As she did, she spotted a thick unmarked manila folder. Glancing up the stairs, making sure that Jeremy hadn’t followed her, she picked it up and opened it.