“Where?”
“I’ll tell you when you get home. Hurry.”
“I am. I’m about twenty minutes out.”
“See you soon. Park in your spot.”
I can hear him smiling, I swear I can. “Thank you, baby. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I end the call and take a deep breath.
Can itreallybe this easy?
Please, let it be this easy.
I take care of a load of laundry while I’m downstairs, along with a few other chores, like scooping Jester’s litter box. That takes me another ten minutes. I’m heading toward the stairs so I can go change clothes when my doorbell rings.
I turn, hesitating. Most everyone around here knocks but not many people would show up at my home without calling me first. Either on my personal or my work cell, and neither number is a state secret.
They would consider that rude if I’m not expecting them, or they haven’t seen me out in the yard shortly before.
A dark, disturbing thought hits me as I head toward the door and peek through the viewfinder.
Standing on my front porch and looking around with derision clearly painted across his features is a man I assume is Freddy despite not seeing the Jag. He could have parked it down the street or around the corner and walked.
I’ve never seen him in town before and I sincerely doubt a stranger would randomly show up on my doorstep at this particular time.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Can I help you?”
The fake smile he flashes me grates across nearly every nerve in my brain. “Hi there. Are you Tomas Levesquoo?” I mean, that’s how he says it, meaning he doesn’t know how to pronounce Levesque.
“Le-vek. And yes, I am. Why?”
“I’m looking for Desiderio Keiser. Is he here?” He tries to peer around me, and it’s such a bad act I have a hard time not laughing in his face.
“No, he’s not.” I reach down and scoop up Jester from where he’s standing by my feet. He’s never tried to make a break for freedom, but he’s not an outdoor cat, and I don’t want to press my luck.
The man barely disguises his disgust at the sight of my cat and wrinkles his nose as he steps back. “I’m highly allergic.” He sneezes as if to punctuate the point.
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t live here, isn’t it?”
I see him size me up again. “Don’t you want to know who I am and why I’m looking for Desi?”
“I assumed you would eventually get around to introducing yourself if you wanted me to know.”
He actually sneers at me. “I’m Desi’sboyfriend. And if you honestly think he’s going to leave me to come back to you? Then bless your heart, you really are a stupid small-town hick. Just like he said you were.”
Had Desi not already warned me about this schmuck I might have fallen for his act.
Except I have a pair of wedding bands upstairs that Des gave me—ME!—and this guy reeks of not-so-quiet desperation. Painfully so. To the point I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost, but not quite. “Is that so?”
“I wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up. He loves me.”
“Does he now? When was the last time you saw him?”
“We’re staying at a hotel in the next town while he finishes his work. I know he visited you this morning. He told me all about it.” He sneezes again and his eyes are already red and watering. At least one thing about him isn’t a lie—he seems to be deathly allergic to cats.
