Wish List (16 page)

Lex laughed. “He’s coming in tomorrow around noon our time. I didn’t have the heart to tell him not to come. He wants to help. This is just my personal opinion, but I think he’s dealing with some guilt where you’re concerned. He thinks he should have told you about Andrews and his cronies.”

“Even if he had, I’m not sure it would have made a difference to Ken Lamantia. He went by the bottom line. He’s a law abiding citizen like I am. We expect, because we respect the law, that things will be taken care of by the authorities. I still believe that because I need to believe it. A John Deere tractor isn’t something you put in a paper bag and sell on a street corner. I’m sure the authorities will get a lead when who ever did the hijacking tries to peddle those tractors. The odds of ten people remaining silent, I would think, would be just about nil. I could be wrong, of course, and then there’s always the possibility that one or more of Andrews’ cronies will get mad over the money split or just plain fed up. Even I know that once the feds get into it, the jig’s up. All you have to do is sit back and wait for them to get caught.”

“Until that time, a pack of jackals like Chet and his buddies can do an awful lot of damage. I’ll be back when the feds arrive. Don’t eat any more of those doughnuts unless you call me.”

“Oh, do you want to take them home with you?” Ariel asked innocently.

“I love your sense of humor,” Lex said cheerily as he left the office.

The minute the door closed behind him, Ariel had the phone in her hand and was punching in her home number. “Wait till I tell you who was here with a bag of doughnuts when I arrived. Did you ever have someone kiss the sugar off your lips? Let me tell you, it’s an experience every woman should have.” She listened to Dolly’s voice on the other end of the line. “
Of course
it was Lex Sanders doing the kissing. We’re having dinner this evening, so don’t make anything for me. Did I tell him off? I suppose you could say that. Nicely, of course. I got my point across. Oh, by the way, he said he liked my suit, and he said I smelled better than a summer peach. I was impressed. Yes, he is a good kisser. A real good kisser. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I feel like some giddy teenager. I’ll tell you the story behind the memorabilia this evening. Did the alarm company call? Oh, they’re there now. Call me back.”

Ariel walked into the private powder room in the back of her office. She stared at her reflection. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but she thought her lips looked different, more sensual, kind of pouty, like she’d just been kissed. “What a brilliant deduction, Ariel Hart.” Her heart started to flutter. She hadn’t felt like this since she was a kid. It was true, what writers said in all those mid-life articles she’d read: it doesn’t matter how old you are, emotion is the one thing that remains a constant. One article had gone on to say that once you got past the age number, the midriff bulge, the thinning hair, the wrinkles, the jowls, all you had to do was sit back and let your emotions take over. The article didn’t say anything about facial deformities, though. She sighed mightily as she wondered what God had in store for her next.

The office staff arrived at eight o’clock, pouncing on the bag of doughnuts and the fresh coffee Ariel had just made. It was an ordinary day with old and new business to be taken care of. Ariel settled in behind her desk and worked steadily until ten-thirty, when she was summoned to the outer office.

Two rumpled, tired-looking men introduced themselves as federal agents. Ariel told them what she knew and offered to take them out to the truck apron where they could meet Stan, the drivers, and Lex. She felt pleased and flattered when one of the men said he’d seen her last movie and liked it. “A bit farfetched, but then most things in life are farfetched, like this hijacking.” It was a compliment of sorts so she just smiled.

Ariel was about to open the door when Bernice answered the phone and said Dolly wanted to speak to her. She held up her hand for the others to wait. “This might have something to do with our hijacking. Just give me a minute.”

The phone pressed tightly to her ear, Ariel listened intently to Dolly. “It’s not a problem. I’d rather you stayed there until it’s fixed. Call me when the men leave.”

The agents looked at Ariel, their expressions expectant. She explained the alarm incident in detail. The agent who said he’d seen her last movie conferred with his partner, then asked for directions to her house. Ariel’s eyes narrowed. Obviously he was of the same opinion as Lex and herself. She felt better immediately when she saw him climb behind the wheel of a nondescript black sedan.

From that point on, the day moved like lightning—meetings with the truckers, interviews she sat in on between individual truckers and Agent Navaro, calls to antiques shops, making flyers that would be posted throughout the township, posting rewards, short dialogues with the drivers from other companies over the CB, conducted by Agent Navaro. And all of it was bringing her hours and minutes closer to the time when she could head home to get ready for her date with Lex Sanders.

What to wear? How to do her hair? Which perfume to use? More important, which underwear? Just in case . . .

Agent Navaro intruded in her thoughts when he said, “I guess this wraps it up. We’ll take it from here. Be careful, Miss Hart. Are you okay? Your face is red.” Ariel looked at him helplessly. Perhaps the agent thought she was going through menopause. Should she tell him she was thinking about her evening with Lex Sanders? Vanity won out. “Actually, Agent Navaro, I was planning my evening. You know, wondering what to wear and what comes after a nice dinner and a little dancing.” She winked and smiled. Flustered, the agent apologized. The part that bothered her was the look he gave her, which clearly said he didn’t believe a word she said. She decided right then and there that she didn’t like the man or his speculating gaze. It was almost like he was saying,
You gotta be at least fifty years old and you
’
re planning a heavy date? Who are you trying to kid?
Aside from that, there was something else about his eyes that bothered her. Later, when she didn’t have so much on her mind, she’d think more about it.

She didn’t mean to say the words, but they tumbled out of her mouth anyway. “Actually, it’s a misconception that a woman’s life is over once she turns fifty. What really happens,” she said, trying not to smile at the agent’s acute discomfort, “is that women shed their inhibitions, throw caution to the winds, in a manner of speaking, and then go for whatever it is they want. Fifty is a number just like thirty-five is a number. Or sixty-five. You would be surprised, Agent Navaro, how many sixty-year-old women in Hollywood can have any man they want. Let me give you a case in point. I’m sure you know Angel Davies. Every single movie she’s ever made has been a hit. She’s been retired for some time now. Her personal calendar is booked a full year in advance with men who want to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with her. Do you know why? She’s interesting! She has a brain, she’s a fine actress, she’s warm and compassionate. Angel wrote a book not too long ago and shared some of her intimate secrets. She said, to a man, most of her dates tell her they don’t want to do the bar scene, don’t want to dance the night away when they have an early call, don’t want to have their masculinity tested on a daily basis by long-legged, breast implanted, peroxide blondes. They told her they look for a sense of humor and comfortable, pleasurable hours spent in the company of a woman they respect and like. If sex happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. Women, as they age, are not dead. I’m not dead, and I’ll be damned if I know why I’m even talking to you like this. I guess it was the look on your face when I said I had a date. So what! So what, Agent Navaro?”

“Listen, I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry . . . I . . .” He wasn’t sorry.
Sorry
was just a word. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew the agent’s speculating gaze had nothing to do with women, menopause, or anything having to do with sex. He was just saying words. I do not like this man, she thought. “Apology accepted,” she said curtly.

Her heart took on an extra beat when she thought about her date with Lex Sanders. Fifty is just a number. Numbers don’t mean anything. Emotions are what count, and she was counting.

Agent Navaro offered his hand. “No offense meant, Miss Hart. We’ll be in touch.”

Ariel nodded. “Mr. Sanders, our biggest client, wants to talk with you. I believe he’s in the dispatcher’s office. The cargo belonged to him. He’s pretty upset, as we all are.” She wondered if it was a trick of light or if she actually saw the agent’s shoulders stiffen at the mention of Lex Sanders’s name.

“Understandable.” He was almost out the door when his cell phone rang. He excused himself to take the call. Ariel tried to make herself busy, picking up order forms from one of the girls’ desks, placing it on another. Anything to get a clue to the phone call. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought it pertained to her.

“That was my partner. The lead wire from the pole to your security system was cut. My man is reporting it to the police as we speak. It will become part of this ongoing investigation. You need to know that the FBI takes precedence over local law enforcement. Have a nice day, Miss Hart.”

Inside her office, with the door closed, Ariel gave in to her shaking nerves. She gulped at the coffee Lex had brought. The caffeine would add to her already twitchy nerves, but she didn’t care. Somebody had deliberately cut her security alarm. Somebody was on her property. An intruder had invaded her privacy and threatened her safety. She reached down to stroke Snookie’s sleek head. How much protection could this dog be? What if someone took it into their heads to harm her dog? She shuddered. She loved the animal sleeping at her feet. Only an insidious person would harm an animal. Was she going to have to hire security guards? “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

The phone rang. Ariel pressed the button on the speaker phone. “Ariel Hart. Oh, Dolly, I’m glad you called. Agent Navaro just told me the wire was cut. I can’t believe this is happening to us. It’s part of the ongoing FBI investigation They’re reporting it to the police. I guess it’s procedure. Because of the hijacking the feds take precedence. I’ve been thinking—maybe I should hire some security guards. I think whoever did this wants us to take it as a warning. If it is Chet Andrews and his cronies, what good does it do? The whole thing doesn’t compute. A hijacking is a federal offense. There’s nothing I can or cannot do about that. The damage is done. I fired him, and he knows I’m not going to rehire him. Can a person be stupid enough to do things like this for spite? What else can it be? The FBI has a very high success rate. You don’t mess with the IRS and you don’t take on the FBI. Whoever it is, is trying to scare us. Get in the car, Dolly, and come down to the office. I don’t want you there alone even if they did fix the alarm.”

The moment Ariel cut the switch on the speaker phone, she had the yellow pages in her hand. She flipped to the S’s and looked up security guards. She called three agencies, got their prices, then called three more to verify that the rates were pretty much standard. She deliberately avoided the large ads and chose one in a little box that simply said, YOUR SAFETY IS OUR BUSINESS. In a matter of minutes she’d hired four men for twelve-hour shifts at the house as well as at Able Body Trucking. The guards, the owner said, had highly trained canines that were part of the deal. She didn’t know if she felt better or not, but at least she’d done something.

Ariel did her best to concentrate on the work in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting to other things—to her safety as well as Dolly’s, to Lex Sanders, to what kind of an evening it was going to be. She flushed a bright pink just as Lex Sanders rapped softly, opening the door to her office at the same time.

“I’m heading home. I’ll pick you up around seven or is that too early? Why’s your face so pink?”

“Seven’s fine. My face is pink because I was just thinking about something I said to Agent Navaro. I was trying to defend fifty-year-old women. He made me mad. Why is it that men are considered distinguished as they age and women just get older?”

“Who said that?” There was such amazement on Lex’s features that Ariel burst into laughter. “I happen to like maturity in women as well as men. Jesus, I don’t think I could handle a twenty-three-year-old. Nor would I want to,” he was quick to add. “What’s your opinion on that?” Lex asked craftily.

“Pretty much the same as yours.” She smiled as she realized she meant what she’d just said. “Youth has its place as does maturity. We had our go-round. You can’t go back. All you get is heartache. I’ve seen it so many times I could write a book about it.”

“Dedicate it to me. I’m outta here. See you seven-ish.” He blew her a kiss.

The moment the door closed, her fist shot in the air. “I think he’s mine, Snookie. And that’s just fine with me. Forget all that bad stuff I said about him.” The shepherd wiggled out from under the desk and did her best to get on Ariel’s lap. Laughing, Ariel slipped down off the chair and tussled with the ninety-pound dog. Her hair came undone, cascading down around her face like a waterfall, and her narrow skirt hiked way above mid-thigh as she rolled over and over on the newly carpeted floor. Snookie had her pinned to the floor when the door opened and Lex stuck his head in, then came all the way into the room. He cleared his throat. Ariel burst into uncontrollable laughter as she struggled with the huge dog. Breathless with her own laughter and silliness, she gasped, “Get him, Snookie, but remember, he’s a good guy.”

Lex was on the floor before he knew what was happening to him. He tussled, but he was no match for the dog growling in his ear as she pinned him to the floor simply by sitting on his chest. Ariel laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. Lex was still struggling with the shepherd, who seemed rooted to his chest. “Bring him here, Snookie.”

The dog inched off Lex’s chest, her two front paws secure on each side of his neck. With her long snout, she pushed and shoved, none too gently, until Lex was face-to-face with Ariel, who was still laughing. She sobered immediately when Lex was a hairbreadth away from her face.