Her mouth opened to refute him, but then she was blinking and shaking her head as if she were at a loss for words. Then the light turned green and she looked away from him again to continue driving.
“Okay, say you’re right,” she said a few minutes later, her frown having only deepened. “Say Markov isn’t the killer. You think he might know who is?”
“Da,” Anatoly answered straight away. “But I do not think you should press him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday evening came too quickly for Maggie’s taste. She had hoped the nearer her date night came, the more she would look forward to it, but that wasn’t the case. As she finished slipping into a knee-length emerald green dress, all she wanted was to rip it back off and shimmy into some sweatpants. It was her only night off this week and she longed to spend it curled up in her recliner away from the world.
The temptation to call the date off was strong, but she had promised herself she was going to give this a real chance and that meant not blowing it off.
She adjusted the straps on her shoulders, worrying that perhaps the bodice was too low cut. Regardless of how well the date went, she wasn’t about to sleep with the guy yet. That meant making sure she picked a modest dress that didn’t give off slutty vibes. It was better to set the right expectations, so she changed.
Maggie was still digging through her limited wardrobe when a ping from her phone drew her attention. She would have ignored it under normal circumstances, but she happened to see Anatoly’s name, and she crossed from the closet to where her cell phone lay on the bed.
Anatoly: Is your night off, da?
Maggie: Yeah, what’s up?
Anatoly: I would like to invite you to proper tour of church. Father Joshua is making gumbo tonight. He is very excellent cook.
She stared down at her phone, biting her lower lip as she considered the proposal. It was Anatoly, so of course she wanted to say yes, but he would surely understand she had made other plans. She groaned and typed out her response.
Maggie: Thanks, I can’t tho. I have a date tonight.
Anatoly: Perhaps another time. Have fun, Detective.
Feeling as though she had disappointed him, Maggie tossed the phone back down onto the bed and returned to the closet. She heard her cell go off a few more times and ignored it so she could focus on getting ready.
In the end, she picked out a short-sleeved, black dress that hugged her breasts and hips, but the V-shaped neckline left a lot more to the imagination than the green one had. She slipped into a thin, but very soft, pale pink sweater and a pair of black Mary Janes.
Maggie rarely bothered with jewelry and only owned a few necklaces, but tonight, perhaps inspired by her text conversation with Anatoly, she picked out her grandmother’s silver crucifix and latched it around her neck.
Finally ready, she snatched her phone off the bed and hurried out of the bedroom. A quick glance at the clock on the living room wall revealed that she was running ten minutes late and she swore. She didn’t bother to check her messages. If it was Anatoly again, he would simply have to wait for her to be free.
By the time Maggie arrived at the restaurant, it had started to rain. Thankfully, it was just a drizzle as she jogged inside, holding her purse over her head in an effort to save her hair. It was a futile effort and by the time she made it to the door it was already frizzled from the dampness.
She stood in the entryway of the restaurant, trying to smooth it out to no avail. The hostess gave her a sympathetic look as Maggie approached and she figured her hair looked like trash, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. At this point, she just wanted to get this date over with and then go back home.
“Reservation under Boone,” she announced to the young woman, who was probably working here through college if Maggie had to guess.
“Ah yes, a table for two,” the hostess confirmed, grabbing a couple of menus as she stepped out from behind the podium. “Right this way, ma’am.”
Maggie followed her, taking note of the intimate surroundings and ambiance. Maybe this place was too intimate, but her date had picked the restaurant. She just made the reservation since she was off work in the mornings and he wasn’t.
Once she was seated, Maggie’s drink order was taken, and then she was left alone for the time being. Deciding it was time to check her phone, she slipped it out of her clutch to see who had messaged her earlier. She was expecting it to be another note or two from Anatoly, but he had remained silent.
No, it had been a heads up from Desmond; her date was running late. She glanced at the time on her phone and mentally swore. He wouldn’t arrive for another twenty minutes at least. So much for getting this over and done with… If only she’d checked her texts before leaving, she could have called the whole thing off.
“Great, just fucking great,” she muttered to herself and started to put the phone away, but another chime caught her attention. At the name that flashed across the display, her mood improved tenfold. She smiled and began to type out a response.
Anatoly: Date is take you somewhere nice, I hope.
Maggie: It’s called Serenade. I’ve never been here. Seems nice so far.
Anatoly: You are texting me while having date?
Maggie: He’s not here yet. He’s running late. I’m looking at the menu. I’m considering the shrimp with garlic butter sauce, what do you think? What goes with white wine?
