Lie of the Needle(28)

            One of the genetic gifts I had honed during my decades as a high school teacher was my excellent sense of hearing as I caught the whisper of test answers or the rustle of notes being passed in class. I half closed my eyes now to concentrate.

            They were arguing about something, and I caught a word here and there, but I needed to get closer.

            I walked across the lot as if heading to my car and, once I got as near as I dared, stopped and bent my knees slightly, shrinking into the shadow of a big Chevy Suburban.

            “What the hell do you want?” Frank Fowler sucked on his cigarette as he glared at the stranger.

            “You owe me, Fowler. Big-time.”

            “You’re mistaken. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

            The stranger’s voice lowered. “You and me, we have a lot of history between us. A lot of secrets to keep. I’m sure you wouldn’t want certain information made public, now would you, Frankie?”

            Fowler glanced in my direction, and I pretended to fumble inside my pocketbook as if searching for my keys. I looked up to see him staring directly at me. I straightened up and decided to take the bull by the horns and see if I could get a better look at this intimidating companion.

            I walked over to the two men. “Hey, Frank. Interesting meeting, eh?” I turned to the tall stranger. “Hello. I’m Daisy Buchanan.”

            The man didn’t speak, just stared at me without any change in his expression.

            “This is—er—Randy,” Frank said. “He’s—er—Beau Cassell’s new foreman.”

            The stranger flicked a disparaging look at Frank, but stuck his hand out. I shook it and got a quick impression of a large, smooth palm before he yanked it away. He stayed sullen and silent, and the moment became uncomfortable until the door opened and Angus and Eleanor came out into the lot in a burst of laughter.

            “Well, nice to meet you, Randy,” I said. “Good night, Frank.”

            I scurried over to my friends, thinking that the newcomer’s gruff persona would be a good match for the builder. One was just as obnoxious as the other.





Chapter Five




                         When I got home, starving and chilled, Joe had already pulled the heavy curtains in the living room against the cold. I followed an enticing aroma toward the kitchen, where I found him stirring a huge pot of turkey chili.

            “Wow. You have no idea how good it is to see you.” I breathed in the steam from the stove. “And your chili.”

            “Hungry, Daisy?”

            “I could eat my arm off, that’s how starving I am.”

            Joe laughed, and while he opened a bottle of cabernet, I ladled the spicy bean mixture into two soup crocks. I set them on the table next to a basket of crusty French bread and farm fresh butter. As we ate, I told him about the meeting and the encounter with Fowler and the other man.

            It was one of those nights when all I really wanted to do was snuggle on the couch with my husband and sip some more red wine, but once I’d finished eating, our retriever puppy, Jasper, fixed me with an unblinking stare, as if willing me to put my coat on.

            I tried to squash the rising guilt as I rinsed the dishes and put the rest of the chili into plastic containers, some for the fridge and some to go in the freezer.

            Like a lot of married couples, we’d made pacts about how to divvy up the household chores. Joe did the cooking and I cleaned up. He did the laundry and I walked the dog.

            Most days I felt like I was getting the better end of the deal as, truth be told, I enjoyed the walks as much as Jasper, but on nights like tonight, I had to dig deep into my suitcase of courage.