Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 02.5 - The Edge of Lies (4 page)

“You could do all of this on the computer,” she said.

He shrugged. “I know, but I’m old-school.”

“You know, sweetheart,” Emily turned to gaze up at him,” I could help you do the background checks if you showed me how.” She grabbed a few files and went to the cabinet. “That would free you up for more important work.”

He hadn’t considered that. He had simply been grateful that she was willing to file the growing pile of papers stacking up on his desk. “That’d be terrific. It’s just a matter of learning the programs on the computer.”

“I think I can handle that.” Emily grinned at him.

“Do you mind if I show you tomorrow, love?” He peered down at his watch. “I have a quick errand and then I have to run out to an appointment.”

A knock at the door drew both their attentions, and a woman with long red hair walked in, fashionably dressed, appearing to be in her late twenties.

“Evan Parker?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m Evan Parker. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to hire you to check out my boyfriend,” the young woman said.

“Here, have a seat.” Evan motioned to the two chairs across from his desk.

The woman took a seat and began to tell how she was about to become engaged. She explained how she was from a wealthy family in town, and she wanted to make sure her boyfriend wasn’t a gold-digger.

Evan stood behind his desk trying not to look at his watch. He never liked to turn away new clients. “Miss—”

“Miss Daniels. Olivia Daniels.”

“Miss Daniels, I am running late for an appointment. Do you mind giving my…” he turned toward Emily by the file cabinet, “
assistant
all the information? Then I’ll get back to you.”

Emily glanced back at him as he raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. “Emily? Would you mind?”

Emily smiled at him. “My pleasure, Mr. Parker.”

She confidently sat down in Evan’s chair, pulled an intake form out of the top drawer, and poised her pen. “Now, Miss Daniels, let’s start from the top.”

Confident she could handle this, he tugged his jacket from the hook and made his way to the door. Emily looked up and winked as he scooted out, and down the hall.

~*~

Evan’s appointment was with the human resources manager of a bank in town, a three-block walk from his office. The manager had told him on the phone that she wanted to discuss the possibility of hiring Evan to do some work for her. It was hush-hush, the woman warned, more than just the background checks he was now doing for them.

After he met with the HR manager and got all the details of his job, he stepped out of the bank. He looked both ways and caught a glimpse of someone standing in the shadows at the end of the building, but when he did a double take, they’d vanished. Whoever was there must have pulled back quickly into the alley.

He dashed to the end of the building and plastered his back against the wall, cautiously peeking around the corner. He heard the sound of someone running and he sprinted down the darkened alley. Before the guy hit the end of the lane, Evan grabbed him by the back of his shirt and slammed him face-first against the building.

“Why were you following me?”

When he didn’t answer, Evan was tempted to pull his gun and make him talk, but he thought better of it. He kept the guy pinned to the wall with one arm and patted him down looking for a weapon with the other. When he found none, he flipped him around to see his face. He wasn’t much more than a boy, maybe sixteen or so.

Evan shoved him against the building. “Answer me! Why were you following me?”

“Are, are you Evan…Evan Parker?” the boy stammered, obviously frightened.

“If you don’t know who I am, why were you following me?” Evan let loose of the boy’s shirt.

“A guy gave me fifty bucks to give you this note.” The kid dug around in the pocket of his baggy shorts and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Then why did you run?”

“The dude said to draw you back here, to give it to you in private. He said you’d know what it meant.”

Evan frowned and shot a look up and down the alley before he snatched the note. He unfolded it and stared at the words. An icy chill shot through him.

While Evan’s gaze was riveted on the note, the teenager took the opportunity and bolted. The sound of his swift footfalls on the gravelly pavement pulled Evan out of his daze. “Wait!” he called out, but the boy was around the corner and gone.

It was too late to find out who had given him the note. His gaze fell back onto the words.

I will have justice ~ Natalia.

Natalia. What did it mean?

He shook his head. There was no way—Natalia couldn’t have written this note.

~*~

Emily looked up from the journal. She remembered that day. Vividly. She’d had no idea that Evan’s day had been so filled with mystery and intrigue. In retrospect it did explain his reactions to some of the things she had said to him.

She had been a little surreptitious herself that day too, but in more of a wife-trying-to-surprise-her-husband sort of way, rather than a husband-with-a-secret-identity way, as Evan had. As she padded down to the kitchen to make some more tea, she recalled how the day had unfolded for her.

~*~

They’d been eating a lot of take-out since the move and Emily had her heart set on making a romantic dinner for Evan to celebrate their three-month anniversary. Chinese was one of his favorites, so she thought she’d try her hand at sweet and sour pork.

That morning, before going down to Evan’s office to help him, she’d prepared the dish, breading and frying the chunks of pork before placing them in a deep pan and pouring the sweet and sour sauce over top. She’d sprinkled it with pineapple chunks and slices of red and green peppers. After covering the pan with foil, she’d tucked it in the refrigerator.

Then, after work, she stuck the covered pan in the oven to bake and set the timer while she prepared the rice.

At some point during the afternoon, unbeknownst to her, while she had been busy with his filing and his client, Evan had stopped by the house, leaving a bouquet of red Gerber daisies in a crystal vase on the kitchen table. She was admiring the flowers when he walked in the back door that evening. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

“I have a surprise for you, too,” she said, dropping her arms down, lacing them around his waist, and smiling up into his clear blue eyes.

“Oh, really,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

“Not that kind of surprise, you naughty boy.” She playfully slapped his shoulder. “Although…it won’t be ready for another twenty minutes.” She began unbuttoning his shirt, and his hands slid from around her waist, down over her hips. “Whatever will we do while we wait?”

He scooped her up in his muscular arms and carried her into the bedroom. “I can think of a few things.”

~*~

The oven timer went off and Emily scurried from the bedroom in nothing more than a pink satin robe. Bristling with excitement, she opened the oven and pulled out the pan with a pot holder as Evan strode up behind her and snaked his arms around her waist. He peered over her shoulder and kissed her neck.

“Is this my surprise?” He stepped to the side, letting her set the hot pan down. “It smells wonderful.”

“Voila!” she said with a big smile, as she pulled the foil off with a flourish.

At the sight of the food in the pan, her expression dropped from proud to mortified in a split second.

“Oh. Well, what have we here?” Evan asked.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her face in her hands.

Evan eyed the contents of the pan. “Emily, darling, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s delicious.” He put his arms around her. “Come on, love, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

She looked up. “I wanted to make you something special tonight. It’s supposed to be sweet and sour pork, but it looks like a big soggy mess. I suppose married people shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

Evan straightened up and tensed. “Secrets? What do you mean secrets?”

“I mean, I’m a horrible cook. You should probably know that about me, you know…if you don’t want to starve to death or something.”

Emily managed a weak smile and Evan relaxed his shoulders. “Come on. Let’s give it a try. How bad could it be?”

She pulled back from him with a glare. “Where’s my phone?” Her gaze darted around the room, looking for her purse. “Let’s order take-out. We’re going to have sweet and sour pork one way or another.”

~*~

They snuggled together on the living room sofa, waiting for their dinner to arrive. In less than thirty minutes, there was a knock at their front door.

Evan peeked out the window to be certain it was the Confucius delivery man before he opened it. After paying him and taking the food, he checked the deadbolt to make sure it was secure, mentioning to Emily that they should probably put another lock on the front door.

She followed him to the kitchen. “I wanted it to be special tonight,” she pouted, as she sank onto one of the chairs.

“It is special, love. I don’t care if we’re having bread and water, as long as I can be with you.”

His loving words inspired a little smile.

“There, that’s my girl.” He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Now, come on, tell me, how was the rest of your day?”

“Not too bad.” She scooped a bit of fried rice onto her plate. “After I finished filing your papers and taking the information down from Miss Daniels, I made some prospecting calls for the open house I’m holding on Saturday.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on Miss Daniels’ case, but not ’til tomorrow.”

He flashed that seductive crooked smile at her, and another wave of desire swept through her body. She took a sip of ice water to cool herself.

“How did your appointment go this afternoon?” she asked, scooping a couple of potstickers onto her plate.

While they ate, he told her about the woman at the bank who wanted to hire him to find her son.

“Did you agree to take the case?”

“Yeah, but he’s a pretty dodgy character, and there’s not much to go on.” He shook his head and speared a piece of pork.

“If anyone can find him, sweetheart, you can,” Emily encouraged with a smile.

He nodded. “Enough talk about business, darling, let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Where would you like to go on holiday next?”

Chapter 6

Emily set her hot tea on the nightstand and climbed into her pajamas before settling back into bed. She thought how that night—the night of the failed sweet and sour pork dish—changed so much. It was that experience that led to her meeting her three best friends.

With a fond smile, she recalled how the following morning she had stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few items. As she’d walked out, a bright yellow flyer on the community bulletin board had caught her eye. The flyer was promoting cooking classes.

She had stopped to check it out, mulling over the idea, deciding that maybe that was what she needed to avoid another fiasco like the one she’d created the night before.

She had pulled one of the little phone number tabs off the page, and the moment she got her groceries in the car, she’d called to enroll. The classes were to begin that evening and she remembered how excited she’d been for it. With Evan working late that night, she was happy that she too had found something to fill her time. In the end, though, she’d found so much more.

Emily blew on her hot tea before taking a sip and thinking back to that fateful night.

~*~

The sun was low in the cloudless summer sky, casting shadows around the buildings, when she drove up to the address on the flyer. A black awning hung over the entrance to the small brick warehouse with the words
Bon Appetite!
printed on it.

Emily climbed out of her car and started across the street, when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see who it was, noticing a woman with long dark hair in a black trench coat walking into the shadow of a nearby building, appearing to be talking on the phone.

As Emily stepped inside, she was met by a reception area with a table off to the left that she assumed was set up for planning menus and events with clients. Worktables for the class had been lined up around the commercial kitchen that had been built into the rear of the space. The scent of Italian spices filled the air.

The woman in the trench coat walked in shortly after, glancing around, which made Emily a bit uneasy. When the woman shrugged her coat off and took a place at one of the worktables, Emily’s shoulders relaxed.

Camille Hawthorne, the owner, introduced herself to her students, which consisted of four women. Her short spiky hair was fiery red and she had deep blue eyes, appearing to be in her late thirties. She was married to a workaholic, she claimed, and she had a teenager and a pre-teen who were driving her crazy.

She confessed that she was just starting her catering and event-planning business and had offered the classes as a way to get her name out into the community, hoping to draw in business. When she finished telling about herself, she asked each student to do the same.

Emily jumped in first, telling how she was a newlywed and had just moved there from the Washington, DC area. Although she had hoped to teach, she was working as a real estate agent for now. She admitted she was a terrible cook and was desperate to improve her culinary skills for the sake of her poor, sweet husband.

Next was Maggie Sullivan, a vivacious blonde, blue-eyed beauty. She shared that she was a single mom from Texas with a fourteen-year-old son, pointing out she had him at a
very young age.
She told the women that after finding no luck in Hollywood years ago, she’d given up on hoping to become an actress, and she’d moved to Paradise Valley, leaving a good-for-nothing husband behind.

She was working as a fitness instructor now, and she hoped to have her own studio one day. Her reason for attending the lesson was to improve her cooking skills to help her catch a better class of man. “Y’all know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she drawled.