Red Tide (Siren Publishing Classic) (15 page)

* * * *

On the other end of the line, John smiled, wondering what Mitch had up her sleeve. He had a hunch Ed Grey had something to do with this development. Ed never had liked him, and John sensed he’d always had more than a passing interest in Mitch. “Okay. What do you want to do?”

“I talked to Ron. He’s drawn up the papers. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need anything from you. I just want the WaveRunners at the house and the things I still have there. That’s it. I’d like to stop by today and drop the papers off for you to look at.”

John thought about the irony of the timing of the events after his talks with Jenna on the topic of his marriage. “What time do you want to come by?”

* * * *

Inwardly, Mitch sighed with relief. This went better than she anticipated. “How about eleven, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

They said good-bye. Mitch hung up feeling both relieved and dismayed. She’d easily cleared the first hurdle, but now she had to face him and play by his rules if she wanted this done. She called Ron’s office and told him she’d be by to pick up the papers shortly, then took Pete out for a final walk before getting in the Bronco and heading south.

Light traffic that morning made for a quick trip to Ron’s office. Smiling, he showed her into his office and sat her down in the same chair she’d occupied on her previous visit. “Well, how are you feeling?”

She laughed. “Nervous and pissed off.”

“Pissed off?”

“Yeah, that he can make me nervous.” They both laughed at that.

He picked up a folder from his desk blotter. “I want you to read through these before you take them. Make sure we didn’t leave anything out. I’ve got it on the computer, so if we need to correct anything it’ll only take a second.”

She read through the sheaf of papers and carefully checked them for errors. When she finished, she handed them back to Ron. “Everything seems fine to me. I don’t have any problems with it.”

Ron stood. “Let’s hope John doesn’t have any problems with them, either. I’ll be right back.”

Mitch nervously drummed her fingertips on the arm of her chair as her eyes drifted to the pictures on Ron’s walls. Many of them had been taken on the boat, over half of them while her dad was still alive. She stood and walked over to one to study it. It was of her, her dad, and Ed. She remembered the trip, a fishing tournament hosted by a marina in Hernando Beach. She managed to hook into a huge amberjack that took second place overall in the tournament and first place in the women’s division. Ron had taken the picture, and it touched her that he had hung it on his wall with the others.

“Remember that trip?” Mitch jumped, startled by Ron’s voice.

“Yes. I fought that thing for about fifteen minutes. We had amberjack steaks and smoked amberjack dip for dinner that night.”

“And boy, was it good.”

Janice walked in the door carrying her notary kit and they got back to business. Ron pointed out all the places for Mitch to sign. When she signed the last one, she looked up at Ron and found him smiling.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Oh, nothing. Just glad to see this finally happening.”

She signed the last line, handed the pen to Janice, and waited for her to finish her work. Once they were done, Ron packaged the papers in a manila envelope and handed them to her. “There you go, hon. Good luck.”

Mitch took the envelope and tucked it into her purse. “Thanks. I think I’ll need it.”

Mitch pointed the Bronco south. John’s office was on Harbor Island in downtown Tampa, near the new convention center. The sky, while blue at that moment, was full of woolly clouds that threatened to grow into monster afternoon thunder-boomers. The drive, sometimes a tedious one, was easy enough without the hassle of rush-hour traffic holding her back. It was less than an hour later when she pulled into the parking garage at Harbor Island and picked her way upstairs to the office suites where Gulf Coast Images was headquartered.

Mitch found herself having to consult the directory in the lobby before stepping on the elevator. A few minutes before eleven, she stepped out onto the third floor and into his outer office where Donna stood guard. The secretary looked up from her crossword puzzle book, and a smile flooded her face as she stood to hug Mitch.

“Hi. Oh, sweetie, you look so good.” Donna always acted cheerful and bubbly. “Would you like some coffee or something? John had to run down the hall for a minute, but he’ll be right back. He told me you were coming over, so I know he hasn’t forgot you.”

Donna’s smile was contagious. Mitch couldn’t help but return it with one of her own. “No thanks, Donna. I’m fine. Where should I wait?”

“Oh, just go right on in.” She showed Mitch into the office, leaving her to go answer the phone.

Once alone, Mitch found she felt too nervous to just sit and wait, so for the second time that day she found herself studying the walls. John was one to brag about his exploits not so much by his words, but by his pictures and mementos. It had been two years since she had been in his office, and since then, he had added many new pictures.

He was into several outdoor activities, ones that usually brought him into contact with the “in” crowd, and a majority of his pictures reflected that. There were several pictures of him golfing, duck hunting, fishing, trap shooting, and a miscellany of other activities with local prominent businessmen and officials. One in particular caught her eye. She moved closer to study it.

In it, John stood next to a large bull dolphin, probably a good fifty-pounder. He was on a dock, and next to him stood a man, presumably the mate or captain of the large fishing yacht behind them. What caught her eye was that the other man looked familiar, although she couldn’t place him. The angle of the picture seemed unusual, taken off to the side of the stern from the dock, not straight on, and a fish-cleaning table blocked her view of the boat’s name on the stern. She was certain she’d seen the boat before, although for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where.

The sound of the door opening brought her back to her purpose there. She turned to face John. He carried a sheaf of papers. A smile briefly touched his mouth before sliding back off his face without ever really reaching his eyes.

“Mitch, how are you?” He walked around his desk and sat down without attempting to shake her hand or give her a hug, something she was extremely grateful for.

She sat down across from him, took the envelope from her purse, and placed it on his desk. “I had Ron draw these up. Like I said, I don’t want alimony, and I don’t want the house. All I want is the things I’ve still got at the house and the WaveRunners. That’s all.”

He looked up at her. “Why now? Not that I’m disagreeing with you that it’s for the best, but what’s happened to bring you to this action?” He leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers in front of him.

Inwardly, Mitch groaned. She didn’t want to engage in long, drawn-out discussions of her personal life with him. “I’ve gotten on with my life. This is something that needs to be done to complete that.”

She felt his mind sizing her up while his eyes remained fixed on hers. “Is there someone new in your life?”

“Is this a turn this discussion really needs to take?”

He smiled and sat back, spreading his hands out before him to placate her. “You’re right, Mitch. I didn’t mean to pry. Of course it isn’t any of my business.”

“Thank you.”

He picked up the envelope and opened it, taking the papers out and leafing through them. She watched him, remembering why he had caught her attention in the first place. His face wasn’t Mel Gibson gorgeous, but he looked handsome, and his blue eyes were absolutely captivating. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen the true face he wore beneath the easygoing facade, the egotism, the braggadocio, the obnoxiousness.

Now that she knew his true colors, she realized his tastefully decorated office reflected this interior attitude. There were too many pictures on the wall featuring him and his many exploits, too many trappings of success that served no purpose other than to prop up his ego. Besides the pictures of his hobbies hung several of his local ad campaigns, including framed prints of ad and poster copy that had been used. There were only two of his Caribbean campaigns, one from a bank in the Bahamas and one from a bank in Grand Cayman.

That surprised her, considering how he liked to stroke his ego by keeping mementos of good projects around, and that most of his best clients were supposedly on the islands.

That was something else she resented. After their first couple of months of marriage, she had stopped accompanying him on his “business trips” to those locations. She later found out that he hadn’t been alone when he went. He was devilishly charming when he wanted to be, and she recalled how good he made her feel in the beginning.

She also remembered watching him mercilessly bully salespeople in department stores when they couldn’t immediately answer his question. Waiters at his regular restaurants drew straws to see who would be the unlucky one to serve him. It amazed her how clear hindsight was.

Twenty-twenty didn’t even begin to describe it. It was more like pure, unblemished Baccarat crystal.

He returned the papers to the envelope. “I’ll run these by my lawyer just to make sure, but everything seems to be in order. I don’t have a problem with anything in them so far.”

The sigh of relief almost escaped her, but instead she said, “Fine. Call me when you get them signed and I’ll pick them up.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I heard on the news you ran into a little trouble this weekend.”

Mitch groaned. She had almost succeeded in putting the prior weekend’s events out of her mind. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do they have any more information about what happened?”

“I have no idea. They said that if they needed to talk to me again, they’d be in touch. That’s all I know.”

“Ah.” He stood and walked her to the door. “I hope you don’t have any more trouble like that.”

“Believe me, neither do I.” She was at Donna’s desk and beginning to think she’d gotten away home free when he glanced at his watch.

“Say, have you had lunch? The Columbia’s open. We could walk over. My treat.” He put on his winning smile.

Her first instinct was to say no, but she bit her tongue and considered his offer. She didn’t want to offend him and end up drawing the divorce out any longer than necessary. “Okay. That would be nice.”

“Fine. Donna, would you like to join us?” Mitch wondered if Donna saw the relief in her eyes when she accepted John’s offer. Five minutes later, they were being seated on the Columbia’s verandah. A nervous-looking waiter took their drink order and scurried back to the kitchen.

Mitch surmised he’d had the dubious pleasure of serving John before.

Today, however, John appeared to be in fine spirits, fully into his charming role, not likely to be short-tempered or unreasonably picky about his food. In fact, in this demeanor, he was usually quite generous with his tips regardless of the quality of the service.

This made Mitch all the more nervous, leaving her with the feeling of walking on eggshells, wondering what he had up his sleeve. John rarely did anything simply for the pleasure of doing it, unless it benefited him.

The conversation remained light, and he didn’t return to the subject of Barres or the
Emmerand
. Business, current events, local politics, the weather. John mentioned that Donna’s eldest grandson was working on a summer biology project focused on manatees. Mitch was grateful for the diversion to a subject she could spend hours talking about. By the time their food arrived, Mitch and Donna had worked out a tentative plan for the boy to visit with Mitch and go diving to do some field research.

As she ate, Mitch watched the boats passing back and forth in the channel between them and Tampa General Hospital on Davis Island. A glance at the sky reminded her of the building storms up in Pasco, and indeed the skies to the north had already taken on a steely grey tint. John talked her into an order of flan for dessert. She relented, able to tolerate John in his good mood for a few minutes longer for the sake of goodwill to hasten his signing of the papers.

Donna and John walked her to the main elevator and said their good-byes. “Look, Mitch, if you’re not doing anything this afternoon, why don’t you come by and get the stuff you wanted? I may have to leave tomorrow for a few days, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

Mitch thought to herself that it wasn’t
her
he was worried about inconveniencing. “Okay, I’ll do that. About six?”

He nodded. “That’d be fine. I’ll be there.”

They shook hands. She fought the urge to wipe her hand on her shorts until after the elevator door closed behind her. A huge sigh of relief escaped her as she rode down to the parking garage and the safety of her Bronco. Her cell phone went off before she started the car. It was the dive shop.

“I was starting to get a little worried about you. How’d it go?” Ed sounded more than just a little worried.

“Oh, I don’t know. I felt a little like Tweety being stared down by Sylvester.” She laughed.