"Paul is staying with you. That's much better. You know he'll protect -"
"No, Andrea -"
"Thea -"
"I'm okay. It's Blackie I'm worried about."
"Why? He's at your uncle's, right?"
"Yes, but… okay, I can see I need to fill you in on a few details."
"Would you, please? I seem to be confused."
But the waiter arrived to take our order, delaying my recitation of the "few details." I gave the menu a quick glance and ordered a chicken chipotle pasta. Andrea didn't bother to look. I think she had the menu memorized. She ordered the herb-crusted salmon salad, which reminded me of Jonathan-in a manner of speaking. I was beginning to feel bad about what I'd done. And concerned. I seemed to be making an effort to shock myself lately.
The waiter left and I related the week's incidents – in chronological order. Andrea listened to every word. The only interruption was from the waiter bringing our dinners. When I told her about my dramatic exit from Bernard's the previous evening, she pressed both hands over her mouth, but laughed anyway. She sobered right up at Greg's impromptu visit and his offer to sell me my own horse.
"I'm glad you called Jake," she said. "I think that situation is under control. Everyone knows what he's up to now. If he so much as looks cross-eyed at you his ass is grass." She ate thoughtfully while I alternately picked through my pasta and sipped my wine. Then she laid down her fork, and leaned towards me. "Valerie's father concerns me, simply because I know what he's capable of. Believe me, you don't want to know," she added, heading off the question I was about to ask. "The upside is I think he's waiting for you to make a mistake, and since we know you didn't have anything to do with -" she glanced around, "with any of that, you're okay. He has a reputation for being a patient man, in that he doesn't act impulsively. That his employee isn't around all the time probably means you aren't at the top of his list of duties. Unless he's keeping an eye on any friends or family to use as leverage. But that's not likely." She gave an unconcerned wave of her hand and went back to her salmon.
The tension that had begun as an uncomfortable twinge when she mentioned Valerie's father had continued to build until I understood why. I reached across the table and grabbed her forearm as she raised her fork to her mouth. She raised a startled expression to me.
"Andrea," I whispered, afraid to speak louder. "Those are the words Greg used about himself – he said he was 'a patient man.' Do you think Valerie's father is using Greg to get to me?"
She thought for a long moment. I barely took a breath. "I don't know. Frederick doesn't recruit from the amateur ranks, as far as I know. It's possible, however, since it involves his daughter. That hadn't occurred to me."
"Wouldn't that just be dandy." I released her arm, and picked up my fork, but Andrea was tapping her fingers on the table top, so I put it down again.
"I was going to comment how oddly connected all of this seems."
"What do you mean?"
"There's something we haven't recognized yet that's tying together Greg, Valerie, Blackie, Donna, Melanie and Randy. Oh, and let's not forget psycho-woman Sarah. There's some nexus. The thought won't leave me alone."
I sucked in a breath.
"Okay, it's a crazy idea." She stuck her fork into her salad.
"No, no it's not." I knocked my wine glass teetering, but caught it before it toppled. "This whole time I've assumed there was one thing, one person, a single event – I should have realized. I can't believe I've been so blind. I've been looking at this all wrong." I was no longer hungry. I pushed my plate aside and pressed my fingers to my temples. "There's something else. Jeez, I feel like I've almost got it." I shook my head, disgusted. The answer was lurking in the shadows of my mind, and I could not entice it forward.
Twice, Andrea began to speak, and twice cut herself off. Then she pushed her plate away. "Okay, I'm done, too." She waved at a waiter. "Let's get out of here and employ some time-honored problem solving procedures."
"Which would be…?"
"Retail diversion for purposes of clarification."
"Ah."
We paid for dinner and wandered out into Bellevue Square Mall, where Andrea kicked the conversation back into gear. We rehashed what we knew while wandering around Nordstrom looking at shoes on the first floor, then taking the escalator upstairs to the lingerie and Point of View departments.
"I know you think I'm obsessing," I said across a rack of Anne Klein Separates. "But I'm sure Paul knew Valerie. I mean really knew her well. You don't handle a guy the way she did when I saw them together at Copper Creek last week if you aren't more than slightly acquainted with him. Even Valerie wouldn't have done that."
"You might be right, or you might be underestimating Valerie's libido again, or you might be trying to turn Paul into a bad guy so you can convince yourself he wasn't worth all the hormones, since you're obviously not over him." She handed me a pale green silk blouse and a smug look. "Try this on. The color's great with your eyes."
I sneered at her and put the blouse over my arm with the other things I'd picked up to try, then moved to another rack and examined a sleeveless cocktail dress with wide straps. The tag said, "Petite." "I'm just trying to be thorough and consider all possibilities." I held the dress up for Andrea to see.
"Yeah, sure you are," She said, then looked the dress over. "Yummy. Try it."
"You don't think it looks too 'Juliet'?"
"No, too tame. Try it. Paul would like it."
I shook my head, refraining from commenting on her supposed knowledge of Paul's taste in women's clothing or her refusal to believe I wasn't holding out hope. Once in the dressing room I directed us back to a safer subject.
"I still don't understand why Blackie was taken. It had to have been a mistake, but on the other hand I can't get rid of this feeling that he's important in figuring this out."
"You know," Andrea said through the dressing room wall, "I wouldn't dismiss it." She paused, and a hanger rattled. "I think it's unlikely it was a coincidence, too. Tell me what you think of this."
I heard her door open and poked my head out of my dressing room.
"Nice, but not 'wow.'"
"Yeah." She scrunched her nose. "That's what I thought. What do you have on?" I opened the door wider and showed her the blouse. "Oh, get it! It's great. Let's see the dress."
I exchanged the blouse for the cocktail dress and stepped out. Andrea opened her door.
"Holy cow, cleavage! Who knew? You look so curvy. That little bit of ruching on the side is perfect, and I love the color on you. It's not actually gray – kind of purplish. What do they call it?" She grabbed for the tag, read it and snorted. "Blackberry? Huh. Not like any blackberries I've seen."
My bra peeked out at the bottom of the V. I tried, alternately, to push it down or pull the dress up. "You don't think it's too low cut?"
"No, I think you need new underwear. We can stop at Victoria's Secret."
"What I don't need is a cocktail dress."
"Au contraire, my dear. Since you have so cavalierly thrown Paul aside, you must have something to wear to the parties I'm going to take you to. Men will throw themselves at your feet, honey. Guaranteed. You'll discard so many you won't be able to remember their names."
"Gee, I can't wait," I said without an ounce of sincerity.
"Darned tootin'. I'll have you know I've found plenty of hotties with my method. Just haven't found one I want to keep, yet."
"What's your criteria for keeping one?"
"Not being able to forget his name, of course." She slid me a vampy look over her shoulder as she went back into her dressing room.
I laughed, glad she could be flip about something that caused her periodic angst, and took another look in the mirror. Pretty form fitting and definitely sexy. Andrea's right, you look pretty hot. I struck a pose and laughed again, then changed back into my own clothes.
"All right, I'll get it – and not because what's-his-name might like it."