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.”