I iced my face and sipped on a drink while Imogen rolled her eyes at me. We were back at our house, and I was relaxing on the couch running through the events of the day. Especially the part where old man Bill whopped my ass. Needless to say, I wasn't very proud of the way things had gone down. Namely the punch that knocked me out. The yelling was fine enough. And I could even deal with his red puss spewing a rain of saliva in my face. But the punch. I'd need another Glenfiddich before I started to feel better.
I was going to have to report the incident to the board. Bill, or any employee for that matter, could not get away with speaking to a member in that fashion. Nor could he get away with punching me in the face. The upside was I would have a chance to talk to the board about Alese's proposition after I sold Bill down the river.
Imogen was sitting next to me sipping on a drink as well. Scotch and soda.
"We've got a bit of a problem, my love," I said.
She crossed her legs and leaned back.
"And what's that, Max?" she asked.
"Bill is now off limits," I said. "We can't pump him for any information. We can't confront him," I said. "He told me, and I quote, 'Stay away from me and my stuff.'"
"He was certainly clear about what he wants," she said.
"Very," I said. "But don't you see the predicament that places us in?"
"I think it's obvious."
"And?"
"Well, you're right. We can't just invite him for tea and a chat."
"Clearly," I said.
"But, he still works at Delmar, and the last I checked we were still members. So, he doesn't really have a choice dealing with us if we run into him there. Especially when we go to play golf."
"That's true," I said. "He can't avoid us at the golf course. But, he doesn't have to talk to us, and when I report the incident to the board he might not even be around."
"You have to report it. Assaulting a member is simply not acceptable."
"Especially when they get the better of you," I said.
"Max, I'm being serious."
"I am too. It's not going to be one of my finest hours explaining to a bunch of people how an old man clocked me one in the face and then knocked me out."
"Temporarily knocked you out," she said.
"I should hope so. Anything longer than temporary might have lead to permanent damage."
"On second thought, are you sure it was only for a moment?"
"Imogen! Regardless, we need to try to meet with him as soon as possible."
"Maybe with some sort of buffer between us. That way he would have to talk to us," she said.
"I like the way you think," I said.
She winked at me.
"Any idea who could be the buffer?" I asked.
"I've got an inkling."
She sipped her drink.
"Are you going to fill me in?"
She still sipped her drink. So I took a sip of mine.
"C'mon," I said, exasperated.
"OK, enough playing. I was thinking Lee Endicott. We invite him for a round of golf. Get him and Bill face-to-face. See what pans out."
"That would also send a message to Bill that we know what's going on. Put him on the defensive. I like it, my love."
"See, I'm good for something after all."
"Don't sell yourself short, you can also shoot one hell of a round of golf."
I finished my drink and took a nap. I was wiped. Getting beat up took its toll on me. When I woke up, Imogen was still downstairs working on her laptop. I felt groggy, and I also felt a bruise coming on. It wasn't going to be easy facing the world with a black-and-blue mark on my face.
"That was quick," Imogen said, looking up at me.
"Was it?"
"About an hour," she said.
She looked back at her laptop and then did a double take.
"Did you take a look at yourself in the mirror?" she asked.
"No, but I can feel it."
"You might want to take a look," she said.
I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn't look good. There was a black-and-blue mark that had developed on my upper left cheek right below and off to the side of my eye. On top of it, I looked disheveled and tired. And that's how I felt. Tired. Tired of running. Tired of trying to solve other people's problems.
I splashed some cold water on my face, ran both of my hands through my hair, and just stared at myself. What was I doing? Running around playing detective when I should have been spending my days relaxing or working. Had I made a mistake? Had I ruined my life? One thing I knew for sure, I couldn't let Ginny know this was how I was feeling. I needed to pull myself together. Needed to get a grip. I had to walk out into the living room and act like everything was normal. Like this was what we were meant to do. Fake it until I was back to my old self.
"I see what you mean, my love," I said, back in the living room.
"Come here," she said.
I walked over to Imogen and sat down next to her.
"Are you OK?" she asked.
I wasn't OK. But I didn't realize that anyone could tell.
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine," she said. "And you don't look fine."
"I think I'm just tired. Maybe just waking up. I'm not a napper."
"You know what I mean, Max," she said.
She knew me. Could read me. There was no point lying.
"No. I'm not OK. I'm confused," I said.
"About what?"
"This. What we're doing."
"You're scaring me, Max."
She looked visibly upset.
"You don't. I mean, you're not confused about…me. Are you?"
She had read this all wrong. Maybe it was the words that I had used. Or perhaps it was the emotion I was emitting. I needed to correct this situation before we had a real misunderstanding on our hands.
"Ginny! No. No. No. I love you. I love being married. I love everything about us. No, I'm talking about this private investigation stuff. You and I are better than good. We're great. Well, at least I hope we're great."
She looked relieved. She put her hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.
"Listen, Max, I love you. With every single fiber of my being. You don't have to worry about that. And as for this PI stuff, we're doing a great job. You're doing a great job…"
She kept talking, but my mind was somewhere else. I don't know what had happened, but I had snapped out of it. I was OK. Heck, I was better than OK. I was great. Imogen was magical. Now we needed a plan. But first we needed dinner.