Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 05 - Till Death Do Us Part (19 page)

We went home and Tom cooked a fabulous dinner of filet mignon with bordelaise sauce, mashed potatoes, and fresh asparagus. It was yummy. Afterwards we watched a DVD and went to bed. We even got to sleep before midnight, too.

In the morning, I showed Tom the wedding board. He was impressed with all that Savanah and I accomplished, too.

“She’s unbelievable,” Tom said.

“She’s efficient, that’s for sure.”

“I think it took Pamela and a team of wedding planners to get this much done and you and she got it done in one day
and
I’m getting karaoke and chocolate cake.”

“You love chocolate cake. Why didn’t you have it at your first wedding?”

“Pamela’s mother said it would get on her white dress.”

I started to say something about Pamela being pregnant at the wedding and that the white dress was already spoiled, but kept my opinion to myself. I remember the hurt in Tom’s eyes when he talked about Pamela’s losing the baby.

We spent the day watching DVDs, snacking on homemade caramel popcorn that Tom made, and enjoying each other’s company. If this was a preview of our life together, I couldn’t wait to get started.

At five o’clock, someone knocked at the door. I got up and went to the door. Tom beat me there. “Go and check the video displays. Tell me who it is.”

I went back to the spare room, opened the armoire and turned on the displays. Kenny stood at the door, holding two pizza boxes.

“It’s Kenny,” I called.

“Let’s let him think we’re not home,” Tom called back.

I heard Kenny laugh outside and say, “I can hear you, Tom. And remember I have a key.”

“We need to get your locks changed,” Tom suggested.

I went around Tom, opened the door and squealed, “Pizza!”

“I’ve got ham and pineapple for us and I figured Tom is an all meat guy, so I got the meat lover’s combo for him.”

“What about the FBI guys?”

“I took a veggie for Brandon and another meat pizza for George and Bill before I came over.”

“Thanks. Which one is mine?”

“Top box,” Kenny said, handing it to me.

I took it immediately to the table. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Kenny and Tom standing and facing each other. Kenny held up the pizza box, a peace offering. Tom took the box and brought it over to the table.

“How’s Shelly?” I asked.

“It’s Shirley, and she’s fine. In fact she’s
really
fine,” Kenny added.

I hit him on the shoulder. “I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades with your therapist.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you.” Kenny stuck his tongue at me.

“Oh, yes, you were. My ears are still ringing from your exploits with the airline stewardess during your flight. You’re just being discreet because Tom is here.”

Kenny looked over at Tom and then said, “You wouldn’t mind if I told Stretch about Shirley and me, would you?”

Tom stared at him.

Kenny shuddered. “I guess not, maybe later, Stretch.”

The best way to describe the meal was uncomfortable. It was like eating at a table with a lion and a hyena. Kenny was constantly making jokes and laughing. Tom was serious and kept frowning at me when I would laugh with Kenny, then I would try to be more serious. My stomach was tightening up with each slide from seriousness to jovialness. A part of me was glad the two men in my life wouldn’t be living in the same city after we got married or I’d have severe stomach issues.

Around eight, the front door swung open. Tom immediately drew his ankle gun, Kenny dove under the table and I put my head in my hand and groaned. I didn’t care if Angelo stormed through the door. I’ve said it before but – my life is weird!

Chapter 22

Art immediately put his hands in the air. “Hey! It’s just me. Why isn’t someone watching the video monitors? You should have known it was me.”

“I’m not sitting in that office staring at those monitors.” Tom put his gun back into the ankle holster.

Kenny came out from under the table and whispered to me, “Your life is weird.”

I rolled my eyes.

Art walked over to the cabinet over my refrigerator and opened it. There were nine video monitors, all one and displaying their perspectives of my front yard, street, and back yard.

“I didn’t know there were monitors in the kitchen.” Tom looked at me.

“I didn’t know it either,” I told him.

“I didn’t show you these?” Art asked.

“No, but in your defense, you were showing me the ones in the spare room when Shirley showed up in the white van and you sent the other agents to see who she was. Then there was the kissing and we were both distracted.”

“You were watching me kiss Shirley?” Kenny asked.

“It was some kiss,” Art said, smiling. It looked good on him.

“That’s true,” Kenny agreed with Art.

“Is that pizza I smell?” Art threw his duffle bag on the floor and went right for the table.

We were finished eating, so we let Art have the rest of both pizzas. Kenny went home and I followed Tom into the bedroom while he packed to go home.

“In a few weeks, we won’t have to do this anymore,” I reminded him.

“I can’t wait,” he said as he stuffed his clothes into his duffle bag.

I sighed. Tom chuckled and said, “You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“What?”

“Sighing.”

“It’s just the way I feel. I’ve got so much to do with this house and the wedding. It’s overwhelming.”

“Don’t worry about selling the house, put it with a good property management company and just rent it out. That’s just one phone call and a little paperwork. You can sell it later, maybe next summer after the school year is finished.”

“Ah,” I groaned.

“What?”

“I forgot I have to call John back and find out what grade I’m teaching next year.”

“Sorry, I think I just added another layer of stress and another reason for you to sigh, again.”

“That’s okay. I can handle it.”

“I still say, why don’t you take a year off? I have plenty of money, so you don’t really need to work.”

Tom was right about the money. He made several million dollars being a PBR Bull Riding Champion, but money was only a small part of why I worked.

“No, I want to work. I love teaching.”

“What if the only thing available is a seventh grade math class at the middle school and he makes an exception to that credential rule and lets you teach it?”

My eyes shot into the air. Could he? I guess if that was all that was available next year. Teenagers? Math?

I shuddered and said, “Then I might take a year off.”

Tom laughed.

I narrowed my eyes at Tom and put up a finger. “Don’t you call John and tell him to offer me that just to get me to take a year off.”

Tom held up his hand in mock pledge. “I would never do that. I know that you love teaching.”

I nodded but made a mental note to call John as soon as Tom left.

Tom took my hand, pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I knew what he was doing. The man was not subtle.

I chuckled when he broke the kiss.

“What?” he said.

“That was a wonderful kiss, too.”

“I’ve got to keep up with Kenny,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes, something else I seemed to be doing a lot lately, and walked Tom to the door. He kissed me lightly on the mouth and said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Drive safe, Tom,” I told him.

He waved and I watched him get into his car and leave. It always felt as if a piece of me was leaving with him. I sighed and then chuckled. It was only eight-thirty, so I went into my bedroom and called John Grant, the superintendent of Gainesville schools.

“I was just thinking about you, Liza. Were your ears burning?”

“No, Tom and I were just talking about the next school year and I was wondering if you knew what grade I might be teaching next year.”

“Would you be interesting in looping?”

“You mean taking a class from one grade to another, then picking up a new group?” I asked him, just to clarify what he was asking me.

“Yes.”

“Which grades?”

“I have a woman who does a kindergarten to first grade loop and her partner, Betty, retired this year. Would you be interested in that?”

“My mom used to loop with kinder and first, so yes, I would be interested. Would I be starting with a kinder class or taking over Betty’s first grade?”

“Betty would have never retired mid-loop, so you’ll be getting a new set of kinders.”

“Perfect.” When I first started teaching, I taught second, then third grade but I had been a kindergarten teachers for ten years, so it would be nice for this first year at a new school and in a new marriage to be teaching something that I was familiar with. First grade is a wholly different thing and it would be nice to watch the other teacher for a year before I did it by myself. I said goodnight to John and thanked him for the job.

It was only nine o’clock and I wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. I could go into the spare room and start matching up victims with
their information, but I didn’t feel like doing that either. I felt restless and unsettled, and I didn’t know why. Something was bugging me and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Then I heard Kenny’s voice, “I’ve got ice cream, Stretch.”

I came out of the bedroom and said, “Bless you.”

Kenny was at the kitchen table with a quart of chocolate ice cream, a container of marshmallow topping and two spoons.

He held out a spoon to me and said, “I know what my girl needs.”

I snatched the spoon out of his hand and said, “Have I told you lately that I love you, Kenny?”

Kenny chuckled and said, “Only every day, Stretch.”

“Good, then let’s eat.”

“Wait,” he said. “I haven’t heated up our topping yet.”

“I can wait two minutes,” I told him.

Kenny put the marshmallow jar into the microwave and we both watched as it tried to explode over the top of the container. Before it started to ooze over the side of the jar, Kenny opened the microwave, grabbed a towel and took it out. He poured the entire jar over the top of the chocolate ice cream.

“Art!” I yelled down toward the spare room.

He stuck his head out of the door. “What?”

“We’re having ice cream, you want some?”

“No, I’m not much of a sweet-eater, but thanks anyway.” He closed his door.

Kenny and I smiled at each other.

“More for us,” we said together.

We ate in silence for several minutes and then I sighed. “You are the best, Kenny. This is exactly what I needed.”

Kenny laughed and repeated his earlier words, “I know my girl.”

“How’s Zoie acclimating to her new house and backyard?”

“She misses Shelby. If it’s okay, I’m going to remove a few boards in the fence between our two yards. I’ll put them back when you leave.”

“No, that’s fine. Shelby will love running with Zoie and it will give her another yard to patrol.”

Kenny laughed and said, “She does like to walk the fence line, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not a trait that’s usually associated with a Sheltie, not like her incessant barking and chasing of moving objects, like the vacuum, broom, or anything with wheels.”

“She’s protective, like most rescued or stray animals that someone takes in and loves. It’s the way it should be. You took care of her, so she takes care of you. Everyone needs someone looking out for them.”

“That’s true.” I scooped another spoonful of ice cream.

When the ice cream container was empty, Kenny kissed me gently on the cheek and went home. I threw away the empty containers and walked toward my bedroom, glancing at the office door as I strolled by. Tomorrow I would match up the new information from Justin. Why was I procrastinating so much? Usually, I would be knee deep in the investigation. There were thirty dead people and still I found other things to do. This time, my bed was calling me and I answered it.

In the morning, I threw on a bathrobe and knocked on Art’s door as I went by, “I’m going to Kenny’s for breakfast.”

“Okay,” he yelled without opening the door.

I found Kenny sitting at his kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and typing on his laptop.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I said by way of greeting.

“Good morning to you, too, Stretch.”

“Sorry, good morning, Kenny.” I kissed him lightly on the cheek, filled the bowl he left out for me and added milk.

“I’m not going into work until later today. I promised Shirley that I’d take her to the airport this morning. She has clients that she needs to see this afternoon.”

“Oh, is she going to find you another therapist here in town?”

“Nope, she’s going to fly out once a month and do my therapy.” Kenny looked up from his computer and smiled.

I shook my head. Kenny and Shirley might do a lot of things with each other, but therapy wasn’t what I called it.

“Where are the guys?”

“George and Bill are still sleeping. Brandon went home. They are going to start taking shifts, two on and one off. That way they get a day off every few days.”

“That’s a good idea. Art doesn’t work every day. His replacement is coming in on Wednesday. His name is Maury.”

“Does he like take-out?”

I shrugged and pointed to the computer. “What are you working on?”

“I’m chatting in a chat room.”

“I didn’t think people did that anymore, with Facebook, LinkedIn, and the other social media platforms.”

He turned the computer around. On the screen was a house.

“What’s that?”

“Rather than a chat room, it’s a chat house.”

“Better than a cat house, I guess.” I took another spoonful of cereal.

Kenny chuckled and said, “You’re quick this morning, Stretch.”

“Thanks, what’s the chat house about?”

“It’s a place where lawyers can go and rant and rave about their clients or customers with other lawyers who know exactly what they are talking about.”

“What about client confidentiality?”

“We don’t use names, even though everyone knows who or what corporation you are talking about.”

“What keeps one lawyer from getting information about a client or corporation that he shouldn’t know?”

“You have to be invited into this chat house, so nobody gets invited if they aren’t trustworthy, plus everyone has the dirt on each other. If someone uses some information incorrectly, everyone in the chat house would know it.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

“I’m not saying that it hasn’t happened but we police ourselves. Also the house has different rooms in it. I don’t usually visit the corporation room since I’m a corporate lawyer. I don’t want to hear about the corporation that I might be representing or suing. I mostly stay in the criminal justice rooms. I like hearing about all these lawyers’ clients who are guilty as hell and they are trying to figure out a way to get them off.”

“That stinks.”

“That’s why I don’t do criminal law, Stretch. I’d always want to fry the bastards if they were guilty.”

“Me, too. Hey, this is something you, Tom and I would probably agree on,” I suggested.

“He’d want them put in jail and I’d want them strung up by their balls,” Kenny said.

“And I’m somewhere in between. Jail doesn’t seem harsh enough and your way is a bit too much.”

“I don’t know, I bet I could swing you to my side in just a few minutes.”

I shook my head.

“I love a challenge.” Kenny used the mouse to click on several doors, typing in a password for each entrance.

“My handle is Delights1000. Let’s see who is in the house.”

Delights1000: Anyone around?

Doghunter200: I’m here, how’s it going?

Kenny pointed to the screen. “I’ve talked with this guy before. He’s got a sleezball of a client who cleaned out his wife’s bank account and gambled away his kids’ college funds that the grandparents started. He even hocked his partnership in his company and the family home to a loan shark to pay off some of his gambling debts.”

“Jail will do,” I smiled.

Kenny laughed. “I’m not done yet. His wife works two jobs, eighteen hours a day, to support his gambling addiction and their four daughters are lucky if they have a decent pair of shoes,  or change of clothes.”