I stopped fighting the urge to go back to sleep. I had a lot of things I wanted to get done today. First on my list was laundry. It had been a while, I decided, as I looked through my drawers and realized I was down to the panty dregs.
Tossing my first load into the washer, I toyed with the whole putting up a sign in Laura’s front yard thing. A thought had occurred to me as I lay in bed last night, doors double checked, alarm quadruple checked and my hand on the trigger of my recently charged stun gun. Perhaps, if I put up a sign, the goons looking for her might think she has moved on. And, if nothing else, not return. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I had convinced myself it was a dandy of an idea. I sure hoped Laura wouldn’t mind.
Now, somewhat rested, this idea had time to stew. I was thinking it wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t about finding buyers. Though, it was an added bonus. Laura’s (and my) safety was essential. She obviously left not only to visit her father, but to get away from whatever was happening with the two midnight callers.
And—not that I thought Laura would turn me in to the Arizona Department of Real Estate (I hoped), I could justify it to Laura by saying I was protecting her. Letting people think she was moving. But, it brought up what really bothered me. I had been piecing together what I knew of Laura—which until a few days ago I thought was a lot. She had the kind of street-smarts I always wanted.
One of the things I liked about Laura was she was her sharp mind and keen sense didn’t miss anything, starting with the night I met her. She saw the tow truck driver. She thought enough to offer to drive me over to pick up my belongings. She was an exceptional mother, doting over her kids and nobody, nobody I tell you, could possibly question her priorities. Which is why the whole Charlie thing made no sense.
Laura was barely nineteen when she and Charlie met, had a whirlwind courtship and married a few months after. They bought the Hacienda on a whim from some friend of Charlie’s. They both liked the idea of being their own boss, all the while having the youthful idealism of taking the worn out hotel and turn it into a thriving travel destination. According to Laura, it was a shabby dump when they took it over. Though, no offense to Laura, it was no Holiday Inn now. It isn’t like the convention bureau was lining up to hold events at the Hacienda.
Charlie and Laura lived there, saving their pennies and growing the Hacienda to what it is today. Laura mentioned at one point after Charlie went to jail, she took out a small business loan to grow their company. However, before hand, times were lean and although the Hacienda wasn’t fledgling, it was still touch and go for a long time.
Then, Laura got pregnant. And, according to her, Charlie started feeling the pressure to pay off the investor and do right by his family. So he started dealing and neglected to mention it to Laura—who only found out when Charlie made his one and only phone call from the jail.
The day he was arrested Laura found out she was having twins. She neglected to tell him only because she was preoccupied getting him out of jail. She told him a few days later. Charlie, wanting to get back to his family as soon as possible, immediately called his lawyer asking to plead guilty so he could serve the minimum time: five years, and then get on with his life. Charlie hadn’t met his sons just yet.
When the boys were about two, Laura did two things: she divorced Charlie and managed to run the hotel well enough to buy the home she lived in now. She was proud of her business skills—especially for someone, as she matter-of-factly explained, with a high school education and real-life experience.
Laura never mentioned if Charlie turned evidence against his drug source or not. But, I thought, it might explain the cast of characters coming around here the past two weeks. If I calculated correctly, Charlie should be getting out soon. A shudder shot down my spine. Was it Charlie’s former buddies looking for her to get to him?
I spent a few hours doing chores, propping my sign in the yard and cleaning up Laura’s house. I had been living on chicken nuggets, Froot Loops and peanut butter toast for days. It was time to hit the grocery store. The fact is, I had never learned to cook and had been grateful for Laura’s culinary ability. Now, I was realizing cooking was more of a necessity and much less of a luxury. My last stop was the hardware store to fix Laura’s wall.
I managed to take the groceries and wall repair paraphernalia as one trip from my car to the front door. Hands full, I was maneuvering my key into the lock when I heard a faint voice.
“Excuse me? Do you live here?”
Startled, I whipped around to face the man belonging to the voice. He was average height and build, in his early 30s, with thinning yellow hair. His face weathered by what I guessed were a few hard breaks. His pale blue eyes reminded me of something I had seen before.
“May I help you?” I asked, nervous. Logically, I did not find anything imposing about him. But, given the events of two nights ago, I wasn’t up to finding out if I was wrong.
He gave me a half-smile and continued in the same soft spoken tone, “I saw your sign in the yard. I was wondering, do you live here?”
He moved a little closer. I tensed up. Across the street, I caught sight of Matt looking my direction. I was relieved to see he was back from his trip. I caught his eye and made a motion with my head. Matt headed over.
I turned back to my visitor. “Yes. Yes, I do live here.” I said, trying out my new real estate agent smile.
The man looked grim. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to the former owner do you?”
Matt had managed to make it to my side, walked in front of me, taking my grocery bags and standing closer than I expected. I answered the man, “No, sorry, I don’t.” And, then for Matt’s benefit, I added, “Actually, there is a contract on this house, but there are other homes in the area if you are interested in buying something.”
The man shook his head, turning away. “No, I was just looking for the former owner.”
We watched as the man sauntered to the sidewalk. After the stranger was out of earshot, Matt turned to me, motioning to the Metro Realty Professionals’ yard sign, “Want to tell me what is going on?” His voice no-nonsense.
I knew the sign was dangerous. And, Matt and Laura were very good friends. I looked him in the eye, “No.”
He smiled, rocking back on his heels, “Try me.”
I let him in, showing him the hole in Laura’s wall and regaling him with the tale of the midnight callers. I was explaining how I stupidly hadn’t set the alarm. Matt’s neck tightened, his jaw hard and he looked at me, eyes blazing.
“What were you thinking?” His voice matched the murderous look on his face.
I turned away, putting the frozen dinners I purchased away. “What do you mean? What was I thinking?”
His tone didn’t change, with his annoyance front and center. “Come’on Tina. Think about it. Put it together. Laura’s hotel supposedly accidentally burns down and she runs like hell away from here with her kids. Didn’t occur to you she was in danger? Then these two guys are looking for her?”
Put off, I glared at him. “First of all, you have your facts wrong.” I said coolly. “She didn’t run off. She is taking a vacation visiting her dad in Cheyenne
“Tina,” he said deliberately. “Have you ever seen Laura do anything spontaneous?” He grabbed the calendar off the front of the refrigerator, detailing every meal she would be cooking last week. “Look.” He said thrusting the paper at me. “Does this look like someone who would just traipse off to Wyoming
He wasn’t yelling. I was certain I might have been able to keep my cool better if he had. “What do you think then?” I said with more sarcasm than I intended.
Of all the comments, Matt jumped more at this one. “What do I think?” I noticed how his eyes were growing bigger, his face muscles taught. “What do I think? I think you are clueless.” He turned away running his hand through his hair in disbelief.
“Your friend and her children are in trouble and you are walking around like Mary Sunshine. Hell, you aren’t just ignoring the warning signs, you are freaking ignoring the warning billboards.” He looked at me, hiding nothing. “Wake up Tina. She is over her head and you aren’t helping. She has an alarm for a reason.”
“How are you so sure she is in trouble?” I threw back.
Matt had turned away from me, staring out the back window. He took a moment before he faced me again the same look still plastered on his face but his voice was even and almost pleading. “Because I have known Laura longer than you. Maybe there are some things she just hasn’t felt she could confide in you. And, you not taking your own safety seriously makes me think she is right.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Since I moved in, I had always considered Laura a close friend. But, with all that was going on, Matt was right. Laura had plenty of chances to tell me why that guy Juan was coming around and whatever else contributed to the rest of this mess. But, she never once mentioned it. And, now thinking about it, she had become more stressed lately. Laura hadn’t confided in me. And, because I was living under her roof—which means she knew my safety might be jeopardized, really pissed me off more.
Matt turned to leave. “Set the alarm behind me,” he ordered not looking back. I watched him walk back across the street, not even the least bit enamored with his backside. I flopped on the couch (after setting the alarm) trying to piece together the shards I had. What I wanted to do was talk to Laura. She hadn’t left me a forwarding phone number or a way to contact her. Who would she call? I thought.
“Hello?” Frieda’s tentative voice came over the line.
I managed to set aside the rush of overwhelming emotions. In my chirpiest voice I said, “Hi Frieda, its Tina. I was wondering if you had Laura’s father’s number in Cheyenne
After a pause, she spoke as deliberately as Matt had minutes before. “Tina. Is this a joke? Because if it is, I don’t find it funny.”
I assured her I wasn’t kidding and relayed what Laura had told me about going on her trip. Frieda made some sort of gasp sound. “Tina,” she said breathlessly. “Laura’s dad has been dead for eighteen years.”
I could feel the color drain from my face. I told her what I knew about the fire, but kept the visiting hoodlums out of it.
“What is going on?” She said more to herself than to me. I selfishly realized I was slightly relived. Frieda knew less than I did. We talked a few more minutes, wrapping up the details as I knew them. She promised to do some digging. We left the conversation with more promises to get in touch to compare notes later in the evening.
I hung up, half wanting to call Matt and tell him about Laura’s father. But, his words were ringing in my head. Because I have known Laura longer than you. Maybe there are some things she just hasn’t felt she could confide in you. Conceding, I swore under my breath. He probably did know more.
It was later in the day when I decided to patch the wall. Following the directions, I carefully added the patching compound, resting the container down on the faux walnut entertainment center, with the intention of standing back admiring my work.
Instead, I looked at the entertainment center shelf. A picture of Laura, with her cat-green eyes smiling proudly with her boys—probably taken six months ago, caught my eye. I picked it up, feeling remorse radiate through me. I felt like I had betrayed Laura somehow. Knowing she and her boys were somewhere—where?
Wishing I understood what was going on. I ran my hand over the picture, mentally rubbing Bruce’s head and reaching for Buddy’s when I saw the resemblance I had missed earlier. I mentally kicked myself. Matt was right. I was clueless. How could I miss what was so obvious? The twins’ eyes belonged to their father. Charlie was the man I met at the door today.
No comments:
Post a Comment