No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (3 page)

I shook off the drunken
attack, sidestepping her poorly-aimed blows, but that only seemed
to invigorate her. She came at me head-on, so I took her by the
hands and pulled her into me, before I turned her around, stuck a
knee out, and she tumbled to the carpeted floor. That’s the benefit
of having brothers. You learn to protect yourself from the
unexpected lunge with a few choice moves.

“I don’t know what your
problem is, but get over it,” I warned her, leaning down. She
looked up at me with unfocused blue eyes as big as saucers, and for
a brief moment, I thought saw surprise in her returning gaze. “I’m
not interested in you or your boyfriend. Now leave me
alone!”

“He is mine,” she mumbled
into the carpet as she collapsed in a soggy heap. I thought back to
that meeting all those months ago. It was still an emotional
tornado in my mind, coming on the heels of the finalization of the
end of my marriage to Bosco, the beginning of what I thought was a
promising romance, and the start of the expansion of Dynamic
Productions into a company poised to head into the next decade as a
regional success story.

“Bosco?” I looked across the
table at the man now taking frantic notes on his tablet. “I don’t
think this is about Somalia. I think it’s more personal than
that.”

“Leave the judgments to me,
Dori,” he replied, barely looking up from his scribbles. “I’m the
forensic expert here.”

“But it was me George ripped
off, and I don’t think he did it to get at you,” I tried to
explain. Bosco put up a hand, cutting me off
mid-sentence.

“You concentrate on getting
packed. How do you feel about renting the house fully
furnished?”

“Just leave everything
here?” The thought of other people using the furniture we had
collected over the last twenty years left me feeling disgruntled
and dismayed.

“We’ll get more rent if it’s
fully furnished. We can do it as corporate housing. It’s not like
we’re inviting a group of frat boys in. More likely, it will be a
family on temporary assignment. We can limit it to six
months.”

“Three,” I shot
back.

“Three, with the option to
rent for another three, in case we don’t get your money back and
the mortgage straightened out right away. It’s the right thing,
Dori.”

“It might be the right
thing, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it.” My hands on the
table, I examined my bare fingers. I hadn’t worn a ring since the
day Bosco and I met for the last time at the mediator’s office,
where we agreed the marriage was too damaged to be fixed and that
we had exhausted all avenues to repair it. Two days later, I signed
the divorce papers and dropped them off at Bosco’s apartment. My
rings went into the safe deposit box at the bank.

“Look, Dori, I know this
isn’t easy for you. I get that. But you have to admit that with all
your money gone, you don’t have a lot of options. We’ll make the
best of a bad situation, babe. We’ll make it work.”

“Is that even possible?” I
wondered. “What are we going to tell people, that I ran back to you
because I’m broke, because George is a con artist? Everyone will
think I’m an idiot.”

“We’ll tell them we decided
to give our marriage another try.”

“How will that solve
anything?” I wondered. “What happens when I get my money back and I
can leave? People will think I’m a fickle flake, unable to make up
my mind whether I want to be married or not. They still think I
kicked you out!”

“You don’t need to make it
sound like my apartment is Leavenworth, for God’s sake! I’m not
planning to hold you prisoner and you’re not moving in as
punishment!” he growled. “Besides, what do you care what people
think about us? You didn’t care much what people thought when Lover
Boy moved in!”

“Do not throw that in my
face, Bosco, or we will have nothing more to say to each other.” I
stood up quickly and walked away, unable to deal with his taunts.
In the kitchen, I put my empty mug in the sink, crossed to the back
door, and went out into the darkness of the moonless night, the
tears stinging my cheeks. I sat down on the steps of the deck,
feeling that big ache that was the hole in my heart. Everything
started falling apart when Kevin died, and it didn’t seem like it
would ever go back to happily after.

I heard footsteps coming my
way. With a gulp, I tried to pull all that heartache back inside,
but it was too late. I buried my head in my hands, not wanting to
deal with Bosco’s cutting words.

“Dori,” he said softly,
sinking down beside me. “I was out of line. I
apologize.”

I didn’t trust myself to
speak. My emotions were too close to the surface, too sharp to not
wound me if I let go.

“We’ll get through this,” he
continued. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

“But, Bosco,” I responded,
“how do we explain the fact that you’re not moving into the house
with me? Don’t you see how ridiculous it all sounds, that I gave up
the house I’ve lived in for almost fifteen years because we want to
give our marriage another go?”

“We tell them there’s still
too much of Kevin there,” Bosco replied. “Too many memories we
can’t bear to face.”

There was something in his
voice that caught me unaware, something poignant and honest. I
looked at him, in the faint glow from the open kitchen door. I
could see the crow’s feet now etched at the corners of those eyes I
had loved for so long, and I saw a glimmer of Bosco’s
truth.

“Is that how you really feel
about this place?” I asked in the quiet of the night. I remembered
the night several weeks after we buried our son. Bosco sat on the
deck, overlooking the backyard, now empty of the soccer net that
had been a fixture in the warmer months. He had packed up all of
Kevin’s sports gear and donated it to a local kids charity a week
after we left the emergency room without our son

“We should move,” he
insisted that night. “Make a fresh start.”

“But this is our home,” I
had told him at the time. “We belong here.”

“Not any more,” was all he
said. He raised the subject several more times before we finally
separated. I had no intention of leaving the memories behind. And
now, thanks to this mess, it looked as if I would have no choice. I
heard Bosco let out a big sigh, before he cleared his
throat.

“For me, this place is a
constant reminder of what we lost,” he said, his voice uneven.
“When I look at the backyard, I can only think that Kevin will
never grow up, never go to college or take a wife or have kids of
his own. If I stayed here, it would have been the end of
me.”

“Oh.” There was a thick,
sharp pain in my throat as I heard those words.

“That’s not how you feel,”
Bosco said matter-of-factly. I shook my head.

“No. To me, this is where I
still feel him, and I’m afraid that if I leave here, he’ll finally
be gone from me.”

“You’re holding onto the
shadows, Dori, in the hope of finding sunlight someday. You can’t
force the sun to shine.”

“What does that mean? I’m
wrong for missing my little boy? I’m wrong for wanting to believe
in life?”

“Maybe you wanted to believe
George’s lies because you wanted to believe you could find
happiness again. Maybe you didn’t look hard enough at what he
really was because you didn’t think you would be able to continue
with him if you saw what he really was. You can’t just go through
the motions, pretending to be happy.”

“So?” I sat up, offended at
Bosco’s judgment. “I should spend the rest of my life being
miserable because Kevin died and you left me?”

“I didn’t leave you, Dori.
And no, I don’t want you to be miserable without Kevin.”

“What do you mean you didn’t
leave me? You moved out!” Suddenly, my head was filled with a dark,
whirring sound, and it dawned on me that I was hearing my
ex-husband deny that he chose to end our marriage.

“I told you it was too
painful for me to live here.”

“And I told you that it was
too painful for me to leave.”

“I did what I had to do to
survive and it looks like you did the same. Only now we don’t
really have a choice. This house is just about all you have left,
Dori, and we need to protect it.”

“Bosco, I don’t want to sell
it. Whatever happens, I don’t want to do that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he
said gently, kissing the top of my head. “I should head
out.”

“You have to go?” I kept my
head nestled into his shoulder, not wanting to leave that little
bit of comfort. “Can’t you stay? I’ll make up the bed
in....”

“No. You’re welcome to stay
with me.” He cut me off, knowing that I would offer him Kevin’s
room. “Why don’t you pack a few things? We’ll come back tomorrow
for your clothes.”

I was torn. A part of me
wanted to stay, thinking that it might be the last time I ever
slept in this house, but the rest of me wanted to be with Bosco
tonight. At least I knew I could count on him not to rob me blind.
If I stayed here, I would think about George and how he took
everything from me.

“Bosco, if he got a second
mortgage on my house, how am I ever going to pay that off?
Especially since I didn’t marry him? Can the bank hold me
responsible?”

Chapter Four --

“We’ll have to wait and see,
babe. It depends on how vigorously they checked his story out,
especially since you weren’t present when he applied for the second
mortgage, and especially since you’re not married to the
bastard.”

“He got it
online.”

“He impersonated
you?”

“He forged the
paperwork.”

“How much did he get?” Bosco
wanted to know.

“Over two hundred
thousand.”

“Hmmph,” he grunted, lost in
thought.

“What do you think?” I was
desperate for some little grain of hope.

“What I think is you should
go pack your suitcase.” He gave me a hand up and walked me back
into the kitchen. “Rather dark out here. How long has the spotlight
been out?”

“A while,” I
admitted.

“George didn’t know how to
change a damn bulb?” Bosco was annoyed. “I’ll get the ladder out
and take care of it while I’m waiting for you. Boy, the guy really
was a loser. Not even changing a light bulb....”

I left him muttering to an
imaginary audience about George’s many failings. In my bedroom, I
took my overnight case, tucked in some slacks, dressy sandals, and
a blouse for work tomorrow, threw on some jewelry, picked out
underwear, and reached for my butterfly nightie. My hand paused,
hovering above my lingerie drawer. I knew how much Bosco loved it
and I didn’t want to torment him with empty promises. After all, we
were still divorced, still divided. I settled on a pair of bright
pink shortie pajamas, thinking that I hadn’t even worn them while I
was with George. They were almost too safe, but tonight, I just
needed to sleep. I took my toiletries case and loaded it up in the
bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush, body lotion, shampoo,
conditioner, and my moisturizer.

“Almost done?” Bosco poked
his head in. “We’re coming back tomorrow.”

“I know. And yes, I’m
ready.”

We headed out to his car, a
2006 silver Taurus. He tucked my case in the back and slid into the
driver’s seat beside me.

“Want to grab a bite? We
could hit Milsen’s Diner for a couple of club sandwiches and
beer.”

“Sure,” I smiled, somewhat
forlornly.

“Don’t worry, Dori,” he
reassured me. “We’ll figure something out. It will all work out. It
may not be the way you want it to be, but I won’t let you
down.”

“I appreciate that.” I
thought about it. It was true. For all we had been through, and
even in our darkest days, when I knew I couldn’t change his mind,
Bosco was still supportive of me. He just couldn’t live in our
house. It came as a shock to realize just how sincere he was in
saying that, and a part of me felt ashamed that I had been so
angry. All I wanted after Kevin died was the chance to grieve with
Bosco, but I always felt so alone, so shut out. I knew he was
hurting, too, but I never understood just how painful it was for
him to be in the house without our son.

The waitress greeted us
cheerfully as we slid into a booth beside the front window. She
seemed well acquainted with Bosco, so I suspected this was one of
his regular haunts, especially when she brought him a glass of Sam
Adams without asking him what kind of beer he wanted. I had asked
for a glass of chardonnay and it arrived chilled. I ordered a
turkey club, light on the mayo. She turned and gave Bosco a bright
smile.

“What do you want on
tonight’s burger?” she wanted to know. I wasn’t used to seeing
other women flirt with him, and for a moment, I wondered how well
he knew her, especially when they bantered back and forth about the
last Yankees game and the one coming up on Tuesday.

“No burger. I’ll have what
she’s having.” The waitress’s eyes flickered over me briefly and
she nodded, jotting the order down before retreating.