It was just after four thirty when I left the office. I needed to get to Greenlife to purchase some ingredients for the evening meal. I was looking forward to it. I like to cook, although no one ever believes I do. I find it relaxing, and I’m pretty good at it. I had a nice bottle of Riesling chilling in the wine cooler, and I had Mary, my housekeeper, go in and set the table. That’s something I do hate doing.
I had the butcher cut me a couple of generous salmon steaks, then I picked out two nice potatoes and the ingredients for an Asian salad.
It was already dark when I arrived home. The view from my living room window was stunning, as always. The lights on the opposite side of the Tennessee were twinkling like it was Christmas. The Thrasher Bridge was a ribbon of lights; Chattanooga was heading home for the night. The sky was a deep purple and there was a light mist on the surface of the river, and I couldn’t help but think of that poor girl tumbling down into the freezing water. I shuddered and shook my head.
She wouldn’t have felt anything, with the cold, and she’d gone headfirst from a height. She must have died instantly, or near enough. Neck snapped…
I jerked myself out of it, looked at the table set for two. Nice. I smiled, nodded to myself, and headed for the kitchen. I put the potatoes in the oven and prepared the salad. I looked at my watch. There was just time enough for a shower before Kate arrived.
Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed in a pair of lightweight tan slacks, a pale pink—the associate at the store called it grenadine—golf shirt, and a pair of comfortable Italian loafers. Hah, now I looked like I belonged in my apartment rather than being there to rob it.
I had just put the salmon in the oven when Kate arrived. She rang the bell and let herself in.
“Wow.” She walked across the living room into the kitchen, looking at me the whole way, and after she’d kissed me lightly on the lips, she took a step back for another look.
I grinned at her.
“I like it,” she said. “You should dress like this more often. I do like the rough, tough look; it’s very… masculine, but this is much nicer.” She slipped out of her coat, tossed it over the back of one of the barstools at the breakfast bar, and perched on the one next to it. She liked to watch me cook.
“You look pretty good yourself,” I said.
Geez, what an understatement. She’s gorgeous!
Now I have to tell you, Kate always looks good, even at work. She dresses well, and always for the occasion, so I guess tonight must have been pretty special. She was wearing a woolen dress that was cut five inches above the knee and showed a lot of thigh, seated as she was on the stool.
I nodded toward the bottle and glasses. “Would you like to pour the wine?”
She did. She reached out, took the bottle, poured a small quantity into both glasses, swirled hers around in the glass, put it to her nose and breathed, then nodded. She took a sip, nodded again, looked at me, tilted her head to one side, and said, “Nice one, Harry.”
I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I put the food on the plates. Inwardly, I shook my head, unable to believe my good fortune.
The meal was quick and easy. I served the lightly grilled salmon steaks with a baked potato garnished with lemon garlic butter sauce and an Asian salad: celery and parsley leaves, radish, alfalfa and bean sprouts, scallions, and Asian pear coated in a light lemon–rice wine vinaigrette. The wine was cool and delicious. The company was… let’s just say better than any man, let alone me, deserved.
We ate the meal almost in silence. When we were done, we finished the wine and I made coffee. No coffee maker this time; I used a French press.
“So, what did you do today?” she asked. We were still at the table, relaxing.
“Quite a lot. As you know, I went to see Willard and Shady. After lunch with you, I went back to the office and called my father.”
She raised her eyebrows.
I nodded and then continued, “I told you I needed a reason for my visit to Harper tomorrow morning. He supplied it. I have a check from him, a donation to Harper’s campaign fund. It was all I could think of. I also met with Charlotte Maxwell this afternoon, had coffee with her. It was interesting, to say the least.”
“Tell me. What did you think of her?”
“Well, as you know, she’s beautiful and she’s intelligent, and… and I’m not sure, but I think she came on to me.”
Kate sat back in her chair and grinned at me. “Do tell.”
I smiled at her, sheepishly. “Well, she was obviously upset about Tabitha.”
“And you took advantage of her. You dog, Harry Starke.” She was joking, I could tell.
“No, Kate. You know me better than that. Maybe I was wrong. It was just a moment. She put her hand on mine and looked at me. That was all.”
“Harry.” She was serious now. “I’m sure you’re right. She probably did come on to you; she’s the type who would. But you’d better be careful. You know what I mean? Maybe I should go with you next time, if there is a next time.”
I did know what she meant. She was talking about ethics, and especially entrapment.
“Oh, there’ll be a next time. I need to know a whole lot more about both her and Tabitha Willard. But don’t worry. I can handle her. By the way, the boyfriend’s name is Michael Falk, but Charlie seems to think he did, in fact, dump her, just like you said. According to her, she hasn’t seen him for several weeks.”
“Charlie, is it? My, aren’t we friendly, though?”
“Hah, that’s just what everyone calls her. First thing she said when I introduced myself.”
“What else did she say?”
“Not a whole lot of anything, now that I think about it. To be honest, I had a tough job reading the woman. There’s something about her that I’m not quite getting. Oh, and contrary to what she told you, she does know about the pendant, but she was reluctant to talk about it. She said Tabitha had received it as a gift some six months back. That was about all I could get out of her.”
I thought back to the interview, trying to dredge up what I’d missed: nothing would come.
“She has an air about her. She was… dreamy,” I continued. “I don’t mean she was high; nothing like that. Just… well… dreamy is the only word I can think of. Even more strange is how little she seems to know about Tabitha Willard. If you live with someone you usually know everything there is to know about them, but no. And yet she claims they were best friends.”
I took a drink from my coffee and then continued, “I asked all the questions. She said Tabitha was in public relations, but that was all she knew. She didn’t know who she worked for, who her clients were, what she did for them, or how she spent her days, other than she was some kind of freelancer, came and went almost as she pleased. Hell, now that I think about it, the whole interview was a total waste of time. The only solid piece of information I got out of it was Michael Falk’s name, and that he worked for Harper.”
I finished my coffee and set the cup down on the table. “You want to go sit on the sofa, look at the view?”
“Sure. I love this place, Harry.”
“By the way,” I said, as we made ourselves comfortable, “you may well be right about Harper’s shady dealings and the foundation. I don’t have much yet. Not enough to draw any real conclusions, but I have Ronnie looking into it. I told him to dig deep. As soon as I have something, I’ll let you know.”
She nodded, pensively. Her mood had changed. The time for conversation was over.
We sat together on the couch for more than an hour, looking out over the river, enjoying the view, making small talk. We could see the lights on the Thrasher Bridge. There was a half-moon, and the light from it turned the surface of the river into a vast blanket of shimmering, undulating silver. She was curled up beside me, her head on my chest. It was a beautiful moment. Not a rare moment, because we sat together like that often, but the sort of moment I always enjoyed.
Suddenly she sat up, threw back her hair, and leaned in close. I could feel her breasts against my chest as she kissed me. A gentle, lingering kiss that silently told me all of the things I’d always wanted to hear her say. Then she stood, turned to face me, stretched her arms high over her head like some huge tawny cat, then took my hands in hers and pulled.
“Let’s go to bed, Harry.”