Chapter 15
Walking out of the Coffee Café the next morning, I sipped my large latte and looked up at the bright sky. I wished they made gallon–size cups and that I hadn’t left my sunglasses in the car. Last night even though I had been exhausted I hadn’t been able to sleep at all, tossing and turning until finally giving up at 5 a.m. and doing some work on my computer. I put together the notes I had, thus far, on the senator but no matter how much I tried, it didn’t amount to much. I couldn’t even figure out how to write about it for Trevor.
It was way too early to be up, and I needed some chemical help. I threw on some jeans and snuck out of the house to get what my mother called fancy coffee. My mother was always yelling at me about spending my money on things like that, but I missed my lattes.
After a couple of sips of the hot brew, I finally started to feel human again. This was worth every penny. The sunshine held the promise of it being a warm spring day, which was exciting. There was nothing better than the first few days of spring.
I was enjoying the effect the caffeine was having on my body and basking in the warmth of the morning, when I saw a figure in the parking lot, hands in pockets, staring at me. As I headed toward my car and got a couple steps closer, I realized who it was: Simon Atkins.
Uh–oh. Something told me he wasn’t waiting to chat, not at seven in the morning. I looked around, but there was no one out here except a couple of senior citizens. I wasn’t sure they would be much help unless they’d started taking karate lessons instead of playing bingo. Oh well, I shrugged. What did I have to be afraid of? It was broad daylight in a public place. He wouldn’t do anything to me in broad daylight. Would he? I groaned. I needed more caffeine for this and a better outfit. Now I regretted walking out of the house the way I did. At least if I looked good I would have the upper hand, but it was hard to feel confident in dirty jeans, and I didn’t even have cool shoes on to offset them. I patted my hair, unable to remember what it even looked like when I walked out of the house. I looked down at the tennis shoes I’d thrown on and wished I had my red Enzos with the three–inch stilettos. Not only would they look hot, but they could also be used as a weapon.
As I neared him, my false bravado waned when I saw that Simon’s face was set in a stony grimace. He looked downright menacing or maybe I just felt more vulnerable today because of the shoe thing. When I got within a few feet of him, I stopped, waited, and just looked at him. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first one to speak. As hard as it was, I was determined to wait him out.
“Is there something you need, Simon?” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me. He was pretty good at the staring thing. Didn’t even blink.
Looking at him, I once again cursed myself for not putting on a better outfit to get coffee. The outfit always made a difference. He was wearing black boots, faded jeans, un–tucked blue–striped button–down shirt, and a black leather jacket; the effect was casual and sexy in an intimidating way. Had he worn, say, a yellow polo and tennis shoes, I probably wouldn’t be as nervous? You can’t look scary in yellow, though there’s not much you could do about the bald head and lots of muscles, even if they were encased in yellow.
He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His blue eyes were cold and flat. He looked all business.
“Enjoying your coffee?” He asked in a seemingly gracious tone, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and was just making conversation.
Please! As if he cared about my coffee. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for asking,” I replied dryly. “You should go try some. They make a mean cappuccino. Though you seem like more of an expresso man,” I said.
“So, you fancy yourself as some kind of investigator?” he asked, puffing on a lit cigarette.
“What are you getting at, Simon? I don’t have time to stand here and chat.”
“You seem to be poking your nose into a lot of things that aren’t your concern,” he replied.
“What’s it to you?”
“A pretty little thing like you could get hurt sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong,” he said, taking a step toward me.
“Why, Simon, are you threatening me?” I raised my eyebrows.
He shook his head. “Now, now. There’s no reason to get all-dramatic on me. I’m not trying to threaten you. Let’s just say it would be in your best interests to enjoy this time with your parents and go back to the city. Relax. You don’t need to be trying to find out who killed the senator. Leave it to those who know what they’re doing.”
He could claim he wasn’t threatening me, but I knew he was. He was subtle; I had to give him that. I clearly understood what he was getting at without him even saying anything directly. I would have to file that one in my memory bank. That kind of subtlety might come in handy later.
“Last I looked, it was a free country, and I could poke my nose wherever I wanted. Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?” I asked flippantly.
He took another step closer to me. It took all my willpower not to back up. I had to hand it to him; he was good at this intimidation shit.
“Listen, Presley,” he said in a tone that didn’t even attempt to try to hide the fact he wasn’t a happy man. “I have a lot vested in this situation. I will not have you screwing things up.”
“Why, did you kill the senator?” I didn’t expect an answer, but was curious about what he might say. I thought that by just flat-out asking him, I might get some information from what he didn’t tell me, or I could get even luckier and he would tell me something outright. Hey, anything is possible.
To my surprise, my question got a fleeting smile out of him.
“You think I killed him?” Simon started laughing. “Now, why would I want to kill Senator Daniels?”
“Then why warn me away from finding the killer if your investment in this situation isn’t the fact that you have something to hide?”
“Let’s just say that there are certain things that I would rather stay quiet, but I am no killer.”
“Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” I forged ahead.
“What does it matter? He’s dead and he was an ass. It’s not like anyone’s going to miss him anyway.”
“He had a wife and family. Don’t you think they want closure?”
He snorted, which I interpreted as laughter. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, angel.”
“Is that what you and Helen were discussing last night?” Simon was startled by this bit of information. Which told me they hadn’t spotted me. Though I quickly realized keeping my mouth shut might have been a better idea.
“You would be helping yourself out if you forgot you ever saw us together.”
“Why were you together in the first place?”
“Just stay away from this situation.”
“Who killed him?”
Simon shook his head. “Let the people who pass for cops in this town handle it.”
Now I was pissed. He couldn’t talk about my friends that way, even if he were a scary person who may or may not have killed someone.
“The cops in this town are worth ten of you, jerk.”
I finally wore out his patience. He grabbed my arm, and I tried to twist away, but he was strong. He started to shake me, saying, “Just go back to Chicago.”
“Let go of me!” I screamed, hoping one of those senior citizens would hear and call 911.
“Hey! Put her down!” I heard someone yell. It was Katy. Simon looked up for a minute but didn’t seem to worried about the situation. Why would he? Even two of us were no match for him. “Let go of her!” Katy said as she reached us, grabbing his arm and trying to pry it off me. The three of us struggled, and I was sure it would have been comical had I not been scared. Simon would not let go. I wasn’t sure what he thought he was going to do. Just as I was about to give up the hope of him letting go of my arm, Katy dumped her coffee on him, scalding his arm. Go, Katy!
“You bitch!” he cursed, quickly letting go of me and
doubling over in pain. I’m sure the coffee burned him.
I backed out of his reach and felt braver now that Katy was here.
“So, if you didn’t kill Tom Daniels then who did, Simon?” I asked. Katy looked at me like I was crazy, but I thought I would give it one last shot.
“Can’t we just get out of here?” she whispered to me. “Wouldn’t that be the smart thing to do?”
“No. Well, yes, it would probably be the smart thing to do, but he attacked me, and I want some answers.” I looked at Simon expectantly. I could tell he was livid.
“I’m not going to tell you again to stay out of this. Can’t you just forget about this and go shopping or something?”
“Listen, Simon. You obviously have something to do with this whole mess. The police are going to figure it out soon if they haven’t already. Your time is running out.” He began to head back to his car. “Simon, if you don’t tell me who killed the senator, then what reason is there to believe that you didn’t do it?” I yelled, trying one more time to get some answers.
“Why don’t you ask your little friend’s boyfriend who killed the senator,” he said over his shoulder, pulling open the door of his Cadillac.
I looked at Katy, and Katy returned my confused look and shrugged her shoulders.
“What did that mean, Katy?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” she said. She pulled out her phone. “That’s why it’s handy to have friends who are cops.” She dialed Dirt’s number.