“I called you all weekend,” Ruthie complained, having finally gotten Della on the phone.
Della rolled over on her side and peeked at the clock. Seven A.M. “Girl, do you know what time it is?” she whispered.
“Yeah, I know what time it is. It’s time for you to tell me where you’ve been. I thought you might have walked off a bridge or something.”
“That’s right,” Reggie chimed in the background. “I just knew I was going to see you being pulled out of the Harlem River on the front page of the Post.”
“Thanks for the confidence, guys,” Della said drolly.
She and Matt hadn’t gotten in the night before until nearly two and of course it didn’t make sense for him to go all the way home. She looked over her shoulder and Matt was still sound asleep, and as her body came slowly awake she realized it still tingled from what they’d done to each other. After the first hour there was little left to the imagination.
“And why are you whispering?” Ruthie shouted in her ear.
“Must I tell you all of my business?”
“Della Frazier,” she dragged out. “You didn’t.”
“And what if I did?”
“What did she do? What did she do?” Reggie asked.
“Anyway, what are you two doing together so early in the morning?” Della asked.
“Don’t try to change the subject. Is he there?” Ruthie asked in a hushed voice as if Matt might hear her.
“Yes. Now good-bye. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up and eased back under the warmth of Matt’s body.
“Friends checking up on you, huh?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
“You didn’t hear that, did you?” She turned to face him.
He looked at her through partially opened lids and smiled. “Every word.”
“Those two. How embarrassing is that? You would think they were my parents or something.”
Matt stroked her bare hip. “They’re just looking out for you.”
“I suppose,” she sighed.
He hugged her to him. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Incredible. Tired, but incredible.”
He kissed her mouth. “My sentiments exactly. You’re wonderful. You know that, don’t you?”
“How about if I take your word for it?”
He peered over her shoulder and checked the clock. “Why don’t we try all the parts out again … just to make sure they fit?”
“I was just thinking of checking some parts myself.…”
A thrilling hour later, Della walked Matt to the door. She pulled her pink and white silk robe around her body.
Matt turned in the archway and tilted her chin upward, looking down into her eyes. “I’ve had an incredible time with you, Della. This is only the beginning for us. You know that, don’t you?”
“I hope so,” she said softly, wishing for the best, but preparing herself for all the possibilities.
He pulled her against him, threading his fingers through her hair. “I’m falling for you, Della. Hard and fast.” His gaze traced her face. “Don’t let me hurt myself, okay?”
Her heart felt as if it were going to explode in her chest. “We’ll catch each other,” she uttered, nearly breathless with happiness. She stroked his face. “When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
“Too long.”
“Come by tonight after work and we’ll take care of that.”
He kissed her slow and sweet. “It’s going to be a long day,” he said with a smile.
“And you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”
“You’re right, and I still have to run home and change first.”
“Maybe we should have held off our morning until tonight,” she said. “I never like to rush; it unravels my day.”
“Hey, for the time I spent with you this morning, I don’t care if I have to play beat the clock all day.”
“You’re sweet.”
“A man could get used to waking up with you every day, Della.”
A hot flush surged through her body. “W-what are you saying—exactly?”
“Let’s talk about it some more over dinner.” He pecked her lips. “I’ll call you later and let you know what’s happening.” He turned to leave.
“Good luck with your boss, Matt. And please, don’t do anything foolish.”
“Yes, dear,” he teased in a singsong voice, and jogged down the steps.
* * *
Della exhaled a long, dreamy breath and shut the door, pressing her back to it and closing her eyes. “Well, girl, you done gone and done it now.” She pushed away from the door and walked back into her bedroom to survey the damage.
Picking up the bedspread, which had found its way onto the floor, she tossed it onto the chaise lounge and began pulling off the floral colored sheets, just as the phone rang.
“Ten bucks says it’s Ruthie,” she mumbled, picking up the phone.
“Yes, he’s gone,” Della said into the mouthpiece.
“Who’s gone?” Chauncie asked.
Della’s expression froze in alarm when she heard her daughter’s voice on the other end.
“Chauncie?”
“Who did you think it was? Is everything okay? Who’s gone?”
Della chuckled nervously. “You’re asking an awful lot of questions, sweetheart. And in answer to all of them: Don’t worry about it—everything’s fine. How are you, and why are you calling so early?”
Chauncie frowned for a moment. She knew her mother wasn’t telling her something. Well, she’d find out soon enough. “I called to let you know Drew and I will be leaving here on Wednesday morning to come home.”
“That’s wonderful, sugar.”
“How’s everything coming with the club? You’re still having the grand opening, right? I thought I’d come back early and help out.”
Della’s stomach knotted. She cleared her throat. “That’s really sweet of you, babe. Uh, why don’t we talk about all that when you get back? These phone calls must be astronomical.”
“Ma, what’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Chauncie, everything’s fine. Really. I’ll see you in two days. Give Drew a kiss for me, and the two of you have a safe flight. I’ve got to run, sweetie. Love you.”
Della hung up the phone. Chauncie. She hadn’t expected her back so soon. Well, she’d have to tell her what was going on eventually. She just wished eventually was a little farther away.
* * *
“Hawkins! I want to see you in my office in ten minutes,” Horace Burke bellowed when he spotted Matt striding past his open door.
Matt’s step hesitated a beat and he kept going, tossing an “I’ll be right there” over his shoulder. He thought he might have gotten a reprieve until the afternoon, but that was never Horace Burke’s style. He seemed to take a singular pleasure in ruining a person’s day from the start.
Matt tossed his briefcase on his desk and listened to his voice mail for messages. He checked his files, and sure enough, Della’s case file was missing. But he’d scanned all of her documents into his computer and put it on a disk. He flipped on his computer and slipped in the disk. Clicking on the file folder icon, he scrolled the list for the one designated “dfrazier” and opened the file. Quickly he glanced through the contents. Everything appeared to be intact. But he could never be too sure. Going through a series of commands, he made an additional disk copy—just in case.
That task completed, he stuck the extra disk in his briefcase, straightened his tie and jacket, and headed for Burke’s office.
When he tapped on Burke’s partially opened door, there was no answer. Sticking his head in, Matt took a quick look around. No sign of Burke. He stepped back out with the intention of returning to his own office. Burke had a standing policy that no one was permitted in his office without his presence or authority. Matt started to leave, but something stopped him—a bad case of bureaucratic indigestion. He’d swallowed enough rules and regulations to last him another lifetime. His career was on the line anyway. He felt daring. Why not push the envelope?
Matt stepped inside and boldly took a seat on the passenger side of Burke’s desk.
Horace Burke had been with the IRS since before Christ, or so the rumor went. He’d risen to the top by knocking down as many people as possible and he sat on his throne with his nose turned up at all his subjects. He was a vindictive man, not only to the clients but to the staff as well. Some people who’d been with the service for twenty years or more said he wasn’t always like that. And at one point he was actually a great guy with a wonderful sense of humor.
Looking around at the austere office, Matt inwardly cringed. Would Horace Burke be the man he would have eventually turned into? The thought chilled him. Yet only months ago cutting people off at the knees was as commonplace to him as watching the eleven o’clock news.
Matt stood and slowly paced the office, scanning the books in the bookcase, when a pale blue binder caught his eye. It looked like all the others, but it was the numbers on the spine that drew his attention.
Numbers were second nature to Matt. He could make them sing for their supper. He could recall strings of numbers, solve complex calculations, and compute multiple columns in his head.
He stepped closer. But maybe this time he was wrong, because if he was right, he didn’t want to begin to contemplate the explanations. No wonder Burke didn’t want anyone in his office.
Horace burst through the door cussing under his breath and stopped short when he saw Matt in his domain. His sallow skin turned a frightening shade of red, which began at his neck and rose to the tip of his receding hairline.
Horace Burke was a big man by anyone’s standards. At six-foot-three and a solid 260 pounds, he wasn’t someone you’d want to sneak up on you in an alley. They said he worked out every day and it was evidenced in the trunk of a neck and the biceps that threatened to burst through the arms of his suit.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing in my office, Hawkins?” he bellowed, storming across the room like a raging bull. He pulled up to within inches of Matt, who stood right under his nose.
Matt didn’t budge, didn’t flinch. If anything, there was a light of challenge in his eyes as he stared back at Horace.
“You did say you wanted to see me,” Matt said calmly, completely derailing Horace’s tirade.
Horace gave him a long, steely look. “Sit down, Hawkins.” Horace turned away and rounded his desk, sitting down hard and pulled open a drawer from beneath his desk. Moments later he produced a file. Della Frazier’s file.
Matt leaned back in his seat and waited. By the time Horace finished berating him for incompetence, insulting his intelligence, and telling him he was lucky he wasn’t getting busted down to a desk clerk, Matt had put all the numbers together in his head and they all added up to Horace Burke.
“I want, on my desk no later than Friday, a full accounting of all your cases for this month and where they stand.”
“Won’t all that come out in the monthly meeting?” Matt asked, the first time he’d spoken since he sat down.
“If I wanted to wait that long, Hawkins, I wouldn’t ask for the report. Friday. No later. Understood?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Matt said in his most condescending manner, which only infuriated Horace all the more.
“And in the meantime, I want all of your current files turned over to me. You need to concentrate on getting me that report.”
“And how soon would you be needing my files?”
“In the time it takes you to walk down the hall to your office, collect them, and bring them back.”
“Then I guess I’d better hurry,” Matt said, rising from his seat.
Horace pointed his finger at Matt. “I don’t like you. I never did. You think you’re the hotshot around here, you’re not. I’ve seen them come and go, Hawkins. But I’m still here,” he affirmed, poking a finger at his chest.
“I’m going to gather up that information for you.” Matt said, ignoring his declaration before turning and walking out the door.
* * *
When Matt returned to his office his heart was racing, not from fear but exhilaration. If what he believed was true, he had the answer to Della’s problem. And even more important, his discovery would shake up the entire IRS system. He took a breath. Once he made his move, there was no turning back. He must be prepared for the scrutiny that he would come under as a result. But he was ready. And if it meant losing everything to help Della, he would do it.
Matt closed and locked his office door. Horace Burke was a pompous fool, and it was going to cost him. No wonder he never wanted anyone in his office. Matt crossed the room and dialed Paul’s extension.
“Paul Daniels,” he answered dryly.
“Paul, listen, I found the answer. At least I think I did. But I need your help to prove it.”
“What? Slow down.”
“I have to get some files together for Burke to hold him off for a while. Meet me for lunch and I’ll explain everything. Oh, and Paul…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll need to get into your files.”