Looking For An Honest Man Chapters 17 & 18

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Chapter 17

They ate a light breakfast of juice, toast, fruit and cheese. Gretchen didn’t bring up Fish in the Sea or her new catch. Olivia cleaned up the dishes when Gretchen turned on the television in the living room. Olivia didn’t pay much attention to it because she was enjoying the peace and quiet from Gretchen’s constant jabbering. She loved her friend dearly, but always felt worn out by the time Gretchen left. Lost in her own thoughts Olivia wondered whether she would have any more dreams now that Vickie’s body had been found. The dreams had been tiring, but not frightening. The big question in her mind was why Vickie had chosen her.

“You had another goddamn dream.”

The words were so sharp Olivia almost dropped a cup in the sink. The television wasn’t on, and Gretchen stood behind her with a stern look on her face. Olivia couldn’t tell whether Gretchen was upset or mad. Her normally translucent cheeks were a bright red that reminded Olivia of a clown’s face. Gretchen moved closer until her body pushed against Olivia. Gretchen’s body trembled against Olivia. 

“You told the police where to find that body!”

Olivia wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter.

“I had to. Yes, I had another dream and I felt it my duty to tell the police,” Olivia said defiantly.

Gretchen got in Olivia’s face.

“Did you give your name?”

“No, it was an anonymous tip to the hotline. Now that they have found the body, the dreams will most likely stop.”

“This could be very dangerous Olivia.”

“Why?”

“If this is the work of a serial killer or madman, they’ll come looking for you dammit! I hope you don’t have anymore dreams.”

Spittle splattered Olivia’s cheek, and as she wiped it off, her friend and sat down at the table.

“I’m sure they’re over,” Olivia said.

“They’d better be,” Gretchen muttered. “You need to join Fish in the Sea and have fun instead of dreaming stupid dreams.”

Gretchen finally left, and Olivia found herself with the iPad in her lap surfing the web. This time she asked for reviews of Fish in the Sea, and was surprised at the number of irate reviews from former members who felt the site was preying on older women. Most believed that the younger men were taking advantage of them financially. Very few had anything good to say about the site. One article talked about how lonely older women flocked to Fish in the Sea, ignoring the site’s reputation, in the hopes of finding a meaningful relationship. Olivia emailed Gretchen with the various articles, but deep down inside she didn’t think it would make any difference. She returned to the kitchen, turned off the Keurig and decided she’d take a shower.

Olivia felt defenseless in the morning facing her reflection in the mirror, especially when she was naked. It took longer for her face to recover from the nightly battle with the pillow. Even though she’d slept in the chair, her hair was matted and the bags under her eyes took on a purple hue under the florescent light. She pulled at her shoulder length hair and wondered for the trillionth time whether she should cut it. She loved to wear it in a ponytail, but it was harder to take care of, especially with the constant battle with gray roots. Gretchen told her that older women look better in shorter hair, but Samantha disagreed. The mirror reminded her that age shows no mercy and takes no prisoners whether your hair was long or short. Retreating to the shower, Olivia swore to turn the light off when she brushed her hair.

Olivia dressed and decided on another cup of coffee. She curled up on the sofa with her iPad to search for any news on Vickie Taylor. It made the front page. The story went into more depth than the television news. Vickie worked for a small investment firm in Kansas City as manager. She’d work there for about three months, but the Star was unable to get a comment from the company. According to her husband, a Richard James of Hogue Investments hired Vickie three months ago. She had worked for A. G. Edwards the previous three years.

As Olivia read on, she wondered if one of Vickie’s clients had killed her over some investments that went south. The husband, Rick Taylor, commented that Vickie had been upset lately, but he couldn’t get her to talk about it. They weren’t having any serious marital problems as many people claimed. The parents thought differently. They believed that the strain their daughter was exhibiting over the past few weeks indicated that there were problems in the marriage. The difference in ages between Vickie and Rick had always been a concern to them. The rest focused on the strange tip that the police received on where to locate the body. The body was in a very remote part of the park. Lake of the Woods Camp hadn’t opened yet, and someone had cut the chain blocking the road entrance to the camp. Police would like to talk to the individual who called in the tip to see whether they saw anyone at the camp.  The reporter asked how this individual knew where to find the body, and could this person be the killer. The lead detective, Ed Hines, had no comment, which sent chills down Olivia’s back.

Did they believe that she was the killer? The thought that the police might suspect her of killing Vickie frightened her. She closed the story and returned to the front page. A small box inserted at the bottom of the Vickie Taylor story had a picture of a woman named Pat Wilson. She was in her fifties, had been missing for two months and the police believed there may be a connection between the Vickie Taylor murder and the disappearance of Pat Wilson. A single professional woman, she’d never been married. Her friends said that she’d been dating a much younger man from a popular web site. When police attempted to find this man, they came up with nothing.

Olivia wondered whether the article was talking about Fish in the Sea. She laid her iPad down and reached for her coffee. The liquid was cold and bitter. Walking back to the kitchen, Olivia wondered why women choose web sites like Fish in the Sea over going out and meeting people. She knew the answer. They could hide behind their monitors. They felt safe. As you age, you feel more vulnerable to the world around you. The confidence you had when you were young is moderated by the experiences of life. Olivia imagined that most women were drifters on sites such as Fish in the Sea. They looked at different profiles, but took no action.

Olivia placed her coffee in the microwave. She pushed the button, the light came on and the glass plate began to rotate. As she watched the coffee cup go round and round, the thought came to her that in many ways, she was like those women who joined Fish in the Sea. They are lonely women who wanted to catch a moment in time that they’d lost.

Chapter 18

Wally had left for his appointment, leaving Samantha to take a shower and get dressed. She kept a few clothes in Wally’s closet for the times like this that she stayed over. It didn’t happen often, but last night she’d felt fragile, which was not her normal persona. As usual, Wally was there to catch her. Wally had always been there for her during the good and bad times. He had been her rock during the bad times in the middle twenties when drugs became more than recreational. She felt so free around Wally. There was no pressure to be anything else but Samantha. Their agreement had held since high school: just very close friends.  Her mother said she took advantage of the situation, but her mother just didn’t understand the special relationship she had with Wally. Samantha wondered if she understood it any more.

Samantha dressed and sat at the table so she could look out the window while brushing her hair. Wally had found Mrs. Mitchell’s phone number before he left for his appointment. Now, she had to come up with a reason to talk to her. She didn’t understand why she wanted to meet with Mrs. Mitchell. Samantha had this gnawing need inside of her that said she had to know more about Brent Mitchell because that might help her remember what happened that night. It didn’t make sense to Wally, but she had to do it. She racked her brain to come up with some excuse to talk to Mrs. Mitchell. Finally, she decided to just tell the truth.

Samantha became discouraged after the phone rang four or five times. Samantha didn’t want to leave a message because that would really sound stupid. Just as she started to hang up, Mrs. Mitchell answered the phone.

“Hello.”                                                                                           

It was a soft and subdued voice. Samantha’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it trying to bust open her chest.

“Mrs. Mitchell, my name is Samantha Kimsey. I know this sounds crazy, but I may have been one of the last people to see your husband.”

Mrs. Mitchell became frantic.

“Do you know where my husband is? Is he all right?”

 “No, Mrs. Mitchell. I don’t know where your husband is. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I wish I did.”

There was an emotional meltdown on the other end of the phone.

“What do you want? Why are you calling?”

Samantha took a deep breath, determined to speak slowly and succinctly.

“My name is Samantha Kimsey. I may have been the last person to talk to your husband. I thought if I could meet with you, something might come back to me that he said that would help find him. It’s a long shot I know, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Samantha wished she’d done what Wally had said and dropped the whole thing. She didn’t really understand why she wanted to see Mrs. Mitchell except that somewhere in the back of her head a voice kept telling her this is what she should do. Maybe she was becoming psychic like her mother. After a long pause, Mrs. Mitchell replied cautiously.

“Who did you say that you are?”

Samantha repeated her name and explained again what she wanted to do.

“We don’t have to meet at your home. We can meet at a coffee shop or restaurant if you want.”

“You caught me on my day off from work. I could meet you in about an hour.”

They decided to meet at a Starbucks in Prairie Village.

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Wally said as he drove them south on the Trafficway.

Samantha’s head gently rocked against the window as they sped toward the Plaza. She stared straight ahead as if concentrating on the car in front of her. Ever since she’d made the call to Mrs. Mitchell, she wondered to herself whether she were doing the right thing. Maybe it was the guilt she felt for blaming a man who probably didn’t have anything to do with raping her. Her mother could probably sort this out one way or the other, but Samantha was afraid to ask her for help.

 “I don’t know, Wally, and quit asking me the same damn question.”

Wally hesitated before he replied.

“Do you want me to go in with you?”

A quick nod told him that he’d stay in the car.

They were quiet the rest of the way. Prairie Village was located in Kansas. Five minutes after crossing the state line, Wally pulled into the parking lot of Starbucks.

Although they’d never met, Samantha immediately recognized Mrs. Mitchell sitting hunched over a table with a small teapot in front of her. Her hollow eyes never left the front door. A cute woman with short blonde hair, a pixie nose, and thin lips that were ghastly pale gave Samantha a weak smile when she entered. Samantha waved and walked to the counter and asked for café mocha. Two minutes later, she sat down across from Mrs. Mitchell. A middle-aged woman sat on the opposite side of the room nursing some kind of flavored drink and reading a paperback book. She wore glasses, and her dishwater blonde hair was in a French roll. A light jacket was draped over the chair back. Samantha noticed that the woman wore a stylish white blouse and fashionable slacks. A businesswoman, Samantha thought, taking a morning break for coffee. The woman didn’t look up as Samantha picked up her coffee. Otherwise, they were the only customers.

Looking For An Honest Man Chapters 15 & 16

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Chapter 15

“Sorry,” she said, wiping up spilled coffee with her napkin. “What do you mean he’s missing?”

“I looked up back issues of the Star and found that his wife reported him missing just about the time Pat Wilson was reported missing.”

Samantha banged her open palms on the table.

“Son of a bitch! He killed her and left town!”

Wally got up from the table and walked over to his computer desk. He picked up some paper from the printer tray, brought it back and tossed it to Samantha.

“I can’t say that. Remember, they’ve never found Pat Wilson’s body, so we don’t know whether she was murdered. All that is known is there are two missing people.”

Samantha crashed back into her chair with a defeated look on her face. She threw the paper down on the table.

“His wife? Do you mean that son of a bitch was married?”

“Looks that way,” Wally said.

“What am I going to do?” she asked.

Wally felt sorry for Samantha, but what could she do?

“I think it’s over Sam,” he replied.

Samantha slowly rose from her chair and crawled into Wally’s lap. She mashed her face in the nape of his neck, emitting soft sobs as her body jerked and her tears ran down his neck. Wally’s huge arms wrapped around her tiny frame and held her close. One hand stroked her back while in his mind he wondered why he did all this. It was never going anywhere. Their relationship was purely platonic. Samantha had told him years ago when they met up after college. “You’re just not my type, Wally. I’m sorry if that hurts your feeling, but I can’t lie to you.”  She never failed to reinforce the platonic boundary of their relationship if Samantha felt they were getting too close.

“What did he do?” she asked in a muffled voice.

“You mean his job?”

Samantha pushed away and braced her arms against Wally’s chest.

“Yeah, what did he do?”

“Private detective. Worked for himself.”

“Private detective?”

“Yeah. His wife said he was working on a case for a client, but she didn’t know what it was about because he never talked about any of his cases.”

 “Does that seem right to you?” Samantha asked. “I mean, if I were a private detective, married, I’d talk to my husband.”

“I don’t know. I’m in the wine business, and we don’t keep secrets. The newspaper article hinted that they were in the midst of a divorce.”

Samantha stood up and scanned the printed-paper on the table until she came to the small article that reported Brent Mitchell was missing. Wally wondered aimlessly around the loft, while Samantha scrutinized the article. Her lips moved as she read, and every once in a while she’d stop, look up with a trouble look on her face. Finally, she turned back to Wally.

“I want to talk to his wife,” she said.

Wally saw that determined look on Samantha’s face.  He knew that whatever she was thinking, he had little chance of talking her out of it.

“For what reason?” he asked.

Samantha began to wring her hands and pace the floor. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes as she gathered her thoughts.

“I don’t know. Nothing seems to make sense.”

“Why is that?”

 “I went to the Top Hat that night to celebrate a sale. I had this one loft that had been on the market forever, and it finally sold. You were out of town, so I went alone. I was sitting at the bar and there was an empty stool between me and another woman I didn’t know. This Brent Mitchell slid in between us and sat down. He started talking to the other woman as if he knew her. In fact, they left for a while and then Mitchell came back inside and sat back down by me.”

Wally cleared the table and walked into the kitchen area.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“We talked for awhile, he bought me a drink, and then he left. It’s all vague in my mind.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you think he was the one that doctored your drink?”

“When I woke up later in my car, I smelled his cologne. He wore that Tommy Hilfiger cologne that I buy for you.”

“What did he say to you? Did he come on to you?”

Samantha held a finger to her puckered lips.

“I don’t know. I was so drunk by that time.”

“You mean you’ve been accusing this guy and can’t even remember what he said to you.”

Samantha became defensive.

“At the time, I thought he was the only one who could have slipped me that date rape drug. What’s it called?”

“I don’t know. I know there’s more than one. I heard one guy call it GHB, whatever that means. All I know is it’s supposed to be a clear liquid with no taste or smell.”

Wally rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher while Samantha stood behind him with her hands on her hips.

“I want to see Mitchell’s wife.”

“Why see the wife?” Wally asked. “Don’t you think you need to drop it now?”

“No, I need to do this first.”

“Well, I’ve got to get ready for an appointment. I just have time to jump in the shower, get dressed, and take you home.”

“I’m going to cancel my appointment and stay here,” she said looking out the window.

Wally frowned as he wiped his hands on a towel. “I won’t be long. I need to make a couple of stops this afternoon, but everything else is by phone.”

Samantha turned around and walked up to press against his body.

“Wally, are you still going with Christine?”

“No, we just dance together. It never was serious. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I need you right now, and I didn’t want to barge in on your private life.”

“That’s a first,” he muttered to himself. “You’re not barging.”

“Okay,” she said, hopping back to the window.

Chapter 16

Olivia awoke with a start to the sound of snoring. She’d fallen asleep in the chair. Through half-closed eyes she could just make out the clock on the mantel - five-thirty. For a moment, she was upset with Gretchen for snoring so loudly until she realized that the living room was quiet. She’d been the one snoring. She groaned and thought how she used to accuse Will of snoring. They say it is the little things that crash a marriage. She sat up, rubbed her eyes again and decided against going back to her bedroom; maybe some coffee. Doctor Wayne Dwyer wrote in one of his books that you should take moments like this to reflect, meditate and use the moment for yourself. Good luck with that, Wayne.

Planting her hands on the arms of the recliner and pushing back into the plush upholstery, Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After several failed attempts at meditation in the past, Olivia wondered if that would be different now since she’d conquered self-hypnosis. Allowing her body to relax from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, she focused on breathing through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. The minutes ticked by and every little noise from passing cars to the mantel clock distracted her. Maybe she needed a mantra or that humming sound you see Buddhist monks practicing. She didn’t know any mantras, so she decided to make one up.

Morning light fills my heart.

The mantra slipped off her tongue effortlessly. She didn’t even have to think about it. Maybe that is what it’s all about, she thought. The singsong mantra blocked out all sounds, and Olivia found herself deeply relaxed and slowly drifting, almost as if she were floating out of her body. All thoughts left her. Is this mantra some call to a higher plain, she wondered—whatever that is? The mantra no longer came from her lips, but from her thoughts, and its presence weakened as she entered a new experience that made her feel completely free from all care. She was at peace. Moist, warm white clouds enveloped her and Olivia, for the first time in two years, truly felt at ease.

“I got a hit!”

The tortuous scream turned everything black. Olivia’s body stiffened, and her fingers clung to the arms of the chair as a raw fear enveloped her. Fighting her way back to consciousness, Olivia’s eyes blinked open to find Gretchen standing in front of her, clothes askew from sleeping in them and her iPhone clutched in one hand. The other hand was violently shaking Olivia’s shoulder.

“Wake up! I got the most marvelous hit on Fish in the Sea.”

At first, Olivia felt anger and yanked Gretchen’s hand from her shoulder. She brought the recliner to a sitting position in an attempt to stand. That failed and she lost her balance slamming back down on the chair cushion.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed jumping to her feet.

“I may ask the same of you, old girl. Did you sleep in that goddamn chair last night? How much did you have to drink after I went to bed? You look like shit.”

Olivia reached out and picked at the tail of Gretchen’s wrinkled blouse.

 “Look who’s talking about being a mess?”  Olivia ran her fingers through her hair. Her mouth felt dry. “No, I didn’t have that much to drink. I sat down for a second and fell asleep. What in the hell has bitten your ass to get up so early?”

Gretchen pushed Olivia back in the chair and held the iPhone in Olivia’s face.

“Someone gave me a starfish. I'm so excited. I read his profile, and he sounds very interesting. His name is Michael.”

Olivia sighed and stood up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think this calls for a cup of coffee.”

Olivia walked into the kitchen and turned on the Keurig. Gretchen followed while swaying back and forth in excitement with her eyes fixed on the smartphone. Olivia cringed as Gretchen sat down at the table and cackled like an old woman who’d won the lottery.

“God, he sounds perfect.”

Slipping a coffee pod in the machine and pushing the button to start, Olivia turned around, leaned against the counter with her hands firmly planted, and gazed in dismay at her friend.

“You have found Mr. Right?”

With a smug look, Gretchen pulled the phone down and waved a hand at Olivia.

“You should try this,” she said. “Instead of moping around the house dreaming morbid dreams. You can only join the site by invitation, and I’d be happy to invite you. It would be fun.”

Olivia ignored the invitation to join Fish in the Sea.

“I don’t mope around the house! When did you start getting involved in online dating sites?”

Gretchen brought the iPhone to her breast.

“I came to realize that I needed love. Robust love! I was tired of dating old men who want nothing more than to push a button on a television remote or talk about golf.” Her eyes opened wide, eyebrows arched, she continued, “I wanted passion in my life.” A coy looked played across her face. “In other words dear Olivia, I wanted to fuck.”

Olivia scowled at Gretchen.

“So, let me get this straight. Fish in the Sea is a dating site for older women who want younger men?”

“I prefer younger men who want an experienced lover.”

Olivia laughed.

“Oh, my God. I have heard it all.”

Indignant, Gretchen turned away.

“That’s why you’ll be an old prune in another couple of years. You’ve lost your passion.”

“Coffee?” Olivia asked.

“I thought it very rude you didn’t ask and serve me first. But, as I said, an old prune.”

Soon, the Keurig had finished perking, and Olivia handed Gretchen a cup of coffee.

“Now who gave you a starfish?”

“He’s not that much younger. He is fifty and works in the financial area—the manager of some kind of fund. He, like me, does not believe in playing games in relationships.”

“I can’t believe this. Where do you get off saying he is not that much younger than you. You’ll be sixty this year.”

“But I’m experienced, Olivia. Anyway, he says right here that he is so tired of women playing games with him because he has money. He is looking for someone who looks beyond the wealth and appreciates the person.”

Olivia reached her hand out.

“Let me see this yahoo.”

Gretchen pulled away.

“No! You wouldn’t understand. You’ll just laugh and make fun,” she pouted.

“I promise I won’t.”

“No. I think not.” Gretchen placed the phone in her lap with a smug smile. “Don’t you think we should consider eating? I’m starved. You are such a rude host sometimes.”