~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 3
I took a quick shower and got dressed, snagging a cup of
black coffee on my way out. I hopped into my little BMW
(a little graduation gift from my father too many years ago
to recall) and headed across town to the mall over on High
Street.
Nancy Spiolie had mentioned that Mike's girlfriend worked
in a clothing store there, and I wanted to ask her a few
quick questions before I made any moves on this case.
The streets were still damp from the morning's down pour,
and just like the weather man's prediction, the skies were
threatening more showers. I took my time driving, cautious
of the slippery roads. Twenty minutes later I was circling
around the parking lot of the mall, surprised to find it already
crowded. Dispite the weatherman's warning, I had forgotten
my umbrella, but luckily there was an empty space near the
entrance.
I parked the car and sat for a few moments, scanning
quickly through my notes for the name of the woman
and the clothing store where she worked.
Was it Hellen? Hazel?...Ah..Heather Langsford.
Humm....Victoria's Secret. Should be interesting.
Flipping my note pad closed, I gabbed my bag,
and hurried into the mall.
Inside, the place was bustling with early morning shoppers.
Mothers pushing baby strollers browsed hurriedly, while out
front of one of the record stores a few high school teens,
probably playing hooky from school, jostled around while
listening to the "latest sounds," I swear the vibrations of
which made my teeth rattle. How they could bear to listen
to that noise is beyond me. I shook my head
and hurried past.
Up ahead, an old couple paused to rest on a bench
overlooking the huge water fountain in the center of the Mall.
The aroma of popcorn, pizza, and Chinese food filled the
air, reminding me that all I'd had was that morning was cup
of black coffee. I quickly located the store and went inside.
Mannequins in colorful fall fashion greeted me cheerfully as
I entered. Dresses, pantsuits and hats in the hottest new
trends adorned each one. Women's footwear of every style
and color were on display while the latest style of Victoria's
Secret lingerie begged for attention.
I pretended to browse for a few minutes, not wanting to start
off asking questions right away. As I worked my way towards
the perfume, I spotted a tall blonde standing behind the glass
counter. She was wearing one of those name tags that stuck
out like a sore thumb. It simply read: Heather. Assumeing it
must be her, I wandered nonchalantly over and began
tinkering around with a few of the sample bottles on the
counter. After a few minutes of my clinking around, she
looked up and smiled, flipping a long silky lock of hair
over her shoulder, the glint from the hugemongous rock
on her finger almost blinding me as she did so.
"May I help you ?" she asked. I have to admit, she looked
like I would have expected someone named Heather
would look. Hair, golden blonde, make-up and lipstick
done perfectly, as if she'd spent all morning perfecting
it. Blue liner rimmed blue eyes that were as big as the
Baltic sea.
"Heather? Heather Langsford?" I asked, wanting to be certain
she was who I was looking for and I smiled extra wide, not
wanting to intimidate her by looking, you know, too serious.
It didn't help, and only seemed to make matters worse. Her
expression changed to worry as she stared back at me.
"H-How do you know my last name?" she asked, looking
nervously about, probably for my accomplice.
I flashed my badge, "Toni Brigatti, private investigator. Could
I ask you a few questions?"
She looked faintly startled, "A private investigator? W-Who
hired you?"
I didn't want to let on that Mike's sister had hired me,
so I told a little white one.
"An acquaintance, who was...very close to Mike," I
answered, choosing my words carefully.
She drew a nervous breath, looking around again. "Well I-I'm
kind of busy right now."
"It'll only take a minute," I flashed a smile. "You knew Mike
Calibre, didn't you?"
She hesitated a moment before answering. "Of course.
Michael was my fiancee'."
"And you were the one who discovered the note?"
"Yes! A note! Look, I've already told everything
to the police."
"So...there wasn't a body?" I asked, glancing up
from my notes
Directly behind me, the sound of squeaking wheels
in serious need of some WD40 caught my attention.
I could hear panting and struggling that suggested extreme effort and I turned
around.
Two moving men were bringing in a
dolly stacked high with
boxes. Across the front of the boxes
read: Fragile! Heavy
Equipment-Handle with Care. The men were sweating
profusely, leaving me to assume that the boxes were extremely
heavy. I paused in my questioning to step aside, allowing them
room to pass. Heather looked concern as she
eyed the moving men with the oversized load.
"Excuse me," she said then turned to address the two movers.
"Sirs! Excuse me sirs! I really don't think that load is supposed
to be brought in through the store! This is a public place! Those
boxes are supposed to be brought in through the back, you
know, loading zone?!"
One of the exhusted movers paused to wipe his forehead
with a hanky he pulled from his pocket. He and his partner
were both sweating from the exertion of their task.
"I know lady," he wheezed checking his watch, " but the
loading door was closed and we're on tight schedule here.
We really gotta to get this stuff delivered."
Just then his beeper sounded. He pulled it out to take
a look and glanced up. "Is there a phone around? I
have an emergency call."
Heather blew out a frustrated breath and pointed angrily
towards the bathrooms a few feet away. "In the foyer
there. Make it fast please and remove this stuff!"
"Yeah,yeah." He groused. "C'mon." Motioning
to his partner both men walked away, leaving the
heavy boxes, unattended and partially blocking the isle.
Tapping my pen idly on my forehead, I waited patiently
until the situation quieted down, hoping Heather would
remember where we left off. Just in case she didn't, I
refreshed her memory. "So you didn't find his body that
night?".
She drew in an angry breath, and flashed me a look to
match. "No, I didn't! Look Miss er...Biscotti--"
"Brigatti."
"What-*ever*! Look... I have work to do!"
I ignored her anger, "Are you certain that Mike's dead?
I mean, it's possible that he may have taken a vacation
or something."
"Yes I'm sure!" she exclaimed. " I-I mean, I haven't heard from
him since the day before. He was very distraught about
something, which I've already told to the police. He left
a suicide note didn't he? "
By now the Baltic sea was flashing storm warnings and
I got the funny feeling she was beginning to be a little
irritated with me. I knew that it was time to move on.
"I have to go!" she snapped and turned on her heels
to leave but spun around suddenly to add, (and I could
tell that her heart wasn't in it,) "Have a nice day!" With that,
she stalked off in a huff, her yellow hair whipping the air
behind her.
Whew! What a hothead! I thought, fanning myself with my
notes. I blew out an exasperated breath and flipped my note
pad closed, then turned to scan the store again. I didn't have
enough information to make a case, and really needed to
ask her a few more questions.
However, I valued my life and decided instead to check
out a blouse I had spotted when I first walked in. I went
over to take a look, stepping cautiously around the dolly
with the oversized load. I had been browsing for a few
minutes when a loud commotion of someone shouting drew
my attention. The sound of footsteps racing hurridly down
an aisle in my direction, their frantic tapping on the linoleum
floor startling me badly enough that I reached for my gun.
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" A man's voice
was shouting.
Before I knew it, I was carried to the floor just as the huge
dolly the boxes were sitting on came barrelled down on us, taking
down the clothing racks on every side. The huge boxes
had toppled forward, crushing everything in their path. The
perfume counter that once stood crystal clear was
completely destroyed-- shattered glass and broken
perfume bottles were everywhere. Some of the glass
barely missed me as huge sheets went flying through
the air.
The sound of women and children screaming and crying
as they ran for cover was all around us, making it nearly
impossible to determine if there had been casualties.
On the floor, strong arms still held me, and it was a
moment before I could registered what had happened.
The pungent sweet smell of perfume from the shattered
bottles filled the air, making me incredibly nauseous.
Struggling to sit up, I worked frantically to un-bury myself
from the many assortment of clothing and hangers that
covered me.
Finally free, I yanked out of the arms that held me and spun
around quickly to behold my savior.
I promptly wished I hadn't.
"Hobson!?"
"Bri..gatti."
"W-What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, feeling
suddenly foolish as I struggled to get up. Finally on my
feet, I adjusted my clothing, brushing myself off all the while
glaring down at him.
From the floor, Hobson-who was covered with female clothing,
glanced up at me and seemed to be trying hard
to come up with an answer.
"I-I was just shopping," he finally sputtered.
I shot him an suspicious look before turning to assess the
damage caused by the heavy equipment. I suddenly
remembered Heather then looked frantically about for her finally
locating her standing at another counter, being consoled by a fellow
employee. I felt relieved that she was safe. I noticed also
accessing the damage, were the two movers and the store
manager. The moving men's faces were beet red as they stood,
nodding and scratching their heads trying to explain their
situation.
Ruffling a hand through my hair, I blew out a frustrated
breath then turned back to Hobson who was still on the floor.
"Is this gift for a male or female?" I questioned, knowing
that this wasn't the time or place.
"Howzat?" he asked, looking up from his newspaper
his expression totally befuddled. It was a simple enough
question. I was pissed and I didn't need to ask again.
"M-Male." he stammered quickly.
At that moment, both of us did a slow scan of our surroundings.
Womens' apparel was strewn all about, mingled with
shattered glass, stereo and tv equipment. For a brief
moment I forgot about the terrible mess and strived to make
sense of Hobson's answer.
Resolved to the fact that I may never understand Hobson,
I blew out a frustrated breath, and reached down to
gingerly remove from a pair of pink lace panties from his
shoulder and dangled it in front of his face.
"Male, huh?"
~*~*~*
Chapter 4
"I'll have the spinach salad." I told the waitress, closing
my menu.
"A...And I'll have the hero sandwich a-and a cup of
coffee--black, please," Hobson mumbled. The waitress
winked at him, gathered our menus, and departed quickly.
While the employees at Victoria's Secret scurried about
cleaning up the damaging mess and destruction the huge
boxes had caused, I persuaded Hobson to step over to the
little diner next door to answer a few questions for me. He
was reluctant of course, giving me some lame excuse about
having to be somewhere, but a quick flash of my badge
provided some additional persuasion and he went quietly.
Both of us, it turns out, were hungry, and we decided to order
a small bite to eat while we "chatted".
Staring at him sitting across from me, it just didn't
make any sense at all why he would be browsing
around in a clothing store for women.
"A hero sandwich?" I questioned, looking him up
and down. Although, it was quite possible that he
could have been looking for a little something
for his...girlfriend.
Hobson's face flushed slightly when he realized what
he had ordered. "I...I didn't mean anything by ordering
that sandwich, Brigatti, " he stammered, "I...I mean I--"
" Thanks...for what you did back there." I said, cutting
him off quickly.
He studied my face for a moment, nodding a silent,
" You're welcome," before glancing off cross the
restaurant.
I blew out an impatient breath, then checked my watch.
You would have thought we had ordered the whole
menu--what on earth was taking that waitress so long?!
I looked back towards the kitchen.
"So, I see you're still on the job Brigatti." Hobson's voice
interrupted my thoughts and I turned back around to find
him quietly watching me.
"That's right." I said, eyeing him suspiciously. " Actually, I'm
ah, no longer on the force, but still work for the city of Chicago."
He frowned, puzzled by my explanation. "So what exactly is
your position now? I mean, you went from Marshall to
detective to...."
"Private investigator," I interrupted. " I was up for a promotion
with the police department but turned it down."
"Howzat?"
.
"I just had a change in careers, Hobson. Decided I was tired of
always having to prove my-....." I paused, catching myself.
What was I spilling my guts to him for? It wasn't any of his
business what I did with my life. I cleared my throat and
changed the subject with as much grace as I could muster.
"I tell you, it was that lousy pizza."
He eyed me briefly, then smiled, looking
off across the restaurant again.
"I don't think I've ever seen you order so much Hobson."
I commented, bringing the conversation back to him.
" You wha--? " He turned back around.
"Food? Big sandwich? " I reminded him tactfully.
"Oh. I-I guess I was kind of hungry." He grinned, rubbing
the back of his neck.
An uneasy silence followed, as we sat staring across at one another,
my eyes focusing on the soft curve of his lower lip. I suddenly
remembered the kiss we were forced to share in that jewelry
store with Hobson, posing as my husband to help entrap a jewel thief
after he supposedly "presented" me with the famous Lermontov diamond.
I shudder remembering how much I allowed myself to get carried
away by that kiss. Damn him!
"You look good, Brigatti," he complimented hesitantly.
I arched a skeptical brow at him. "Oh.. you think so huh?"
He smiled, and dropped his head. "I-I just mean that...
well, I'm glad to see that..that you're doing okay." he
raised his head to look at me again.
I studied him suspiciously, "Flattery will get you nowhere
Hobson. " I said, " And I still want to know why you were in
that department store. Preferably the truth."
"Look...I already told you!"
"It's a woman's lingerie store Hobson." I droned, tired of all his
lame excuses.
"Didn't you just tell me that you were no longer on the
Chicago police force?" He asked.
Me and my big mouth. "Makes no difference to you,
Hobson." I said, leaning forward in my chair to glare
at him. "I still work FOR the police department of the City
of Chicago and right now, I have questions."
"But I have nothing to do with your case!"
He was right. Although I was still authorized to
make arrests, at the moment without an actual reason,
I had no authority what-so-ever. Luckily, he didn't know that.
I leaned back in my seat, both of us eyeing each other coldly.
It had been a long time since I'd last seen him. It was after
the Harland diamond scam case backfired on me. That
whole set-up with the US government still pisses me off every
time I think about it, and Hobson hadn't made my job any easier.
He and that little jaded... Jade! And that so-called "date" we
had gone on afterward, ha! I should have known better
than to take him up on that offer. I was still fuming about
being betrayed and the date turned out to be a complete disaster.
I studied him carefully, drumming my fingers impatiently on the
checkered table cloth. "Maybe you were the one who pushed
those boxes over, Hobson." I accused.
"Me?!"
"Yeah. Female underwear
store. You-- bolting from out of nowhere... suspiciously
from the vicinity of those boxes."
A dead silence.
"Seems kind of suspicious to me Hobson."
More silence.
"So..." I drew in a tired breath, " You wanna tell me about it.?"
"L-Look... Brigatti," he said, ruffling the back
of his hair. " If-If you must know, I...I was there to pick up
a package for a friend of mine."
"A friend."
"Yes. Th-This...friend of mine had ordered something for
his fiancée' a week ago and didn't think that he would
make it to the store in time to pick it up, so, being the
thoughtful friend that I am, I told him that I would pick it up
for him," he explained, eyes blinking.
"Oh yeah?" I asked leaning forward in my chair. "And where
is that package, Hobson."
"Huh?"
"The package?"
"I...I don't know." He shrugged innocently. "I-I mean, they
must have screwed up on the order o...or something
because it hadn't come in."
More blinking.
Another long silence followed as I sat in awe, glaring at this
gentle faced man. Who, with his squeaky-clean looks and southern
charm, always seemed be in the wrong place at the wrong
time--who repeatedly found himself in trouble because of it, and,
whose nose I could have sworn had grown a few inches long since
he first began telling that big lie! Simply amazing. Although I have to
admit, I liked how his lashes fluttered whenever he was fibbing or
how his mouth formed that delicious " O " whenever he tried to sound
convincing and right now he was looking especially...sweet and my
gut instinct was clueing me in that THIS, was a big one.
"I'm not buying it, Hobson!" I snapped "Now either you're
going to tell me the truth or...or..." I stammered, trying to think
of some abstruction of justice charge I could bestowe upon him.
I couldn't think of any.
"Or what?" Hobson asked, taking advantage of my
fluster.
For a moment, I sat staring across at him trying to
remember where
I had heard those words before. Suddenly,
I was back in my apartment staring into his
cold frighten face.
At one time, Hobson had been accused of murder
Somehow he managed to escape from jail and
was on the run for his life with all of Chicago PD
out searching for him. Returning home late
one night, I was totally surprised to find him standing
in my kitchen. He asked me for help. Knowing
the consequences I faced, I denied him that help.
"Hobson! Stay where you are!" I warned pulling my
gun on him.
Trapped and exhausted, Hobson had run out of options,
and with nowhere else to go, he played his last
card. Me.
"Or what?" He whispered, his tone challenging,
the look in his eyes uncaring-almost suicidal.
A chill to swept up the back of my neck.
But I held my position until he
realized, I wasn't going to help him out.
Lowering his gaze, Hobson backed away slowly,
and simply walked out, leaving me alone
and befuddled with my gun still held at point
blank range,
my finger still on the trigger. Hobson had
called my bluff.
The distant wail of a police siren broke me from my
reverie and I blinked, bringing myself back to the present. I
looked over at Hobson who was staring at me. I had forgotten
the question.
I cleared my throat, "W-What did you say?"
"Or what?" he repeated more irritably this time.
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I said, "O...Or...I just might
have to take you out."
I could not believe that I had said that! I certainly hadn't intended
for it to come out the way that it did. At that moment, the silence
was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife which we didn't
have because it was taking the waitress so long to return with
our order!
Hobson sat staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar, not sure what
to make of what he'd heard, or whether he had even heard correctly.
"Is that an invitation o-or a threat." he finally asked, searching my
face, as if for some kind of sign.
At that moment, the waitress appeared with our order.
"Here you go," she smiled, plopping a plate with an over stuffed
Hero sandwich down on the table in front of Hobson, and a
large salad in front of me.
Bout time, I thought, draping a napkin quickly across my lap.
Actually, I was quite relieved, knowing that the waitress's
sudden appearance was a good diversion from the question.
As we ate in silence, my mind was swarming with a
thousand questions
and thoughts of with what had gone on that morning. Hobson's
gaze had stirred something deep within me and I wasn't so
sure if I liked it. I did know that I had to get back to the Spiolie
case and that Hobson was just another distraction.
Afterwards, we stepped outside into the chill of the afternoon
and headed toward our respected cars. It was overcast, and had
stopped raining. I noticed that all during lunch, Hobson had seemed
edgy and had been checking that paper of his, as if he had someplace
to be. What is it about him and that.. paper?!
As we crossed the parking lot, I thought about the statement I had
made about taking Hobson out, and felt like a total idiot.
I still didn't believe the reason Hobson had given me as to why he
was at that store.
"Take care." He said, moving quickly towards his jeep. Stopping
abruptly, he turned back around. "Oh, ah...what
time shall I be ready?" he asked, his greenish-brown
eyes twinkling mischievously,
"Ready for what?" I asked as I got into
my car.
He blinked. "W-Well, I thought you said that you
might have to take me out--"
"That's right." I said, slamming the door shut then turned to
look up at him. "What'd you think I was talking about? Another
date?"
There was dead silence as we stared silently at each other.
Looking perplexed, Hobson slid a hand through his hair
and looked off breifly before glancing back down at me.
Apparently I had thrown him for another loop.
I started the car, letting the engine idle as I studied his
face. "Think about it Hobson." I said. "And...just stay... out
of my way, will you?"
I gunned the engine before slipping the car into gear.
I pulled up slowly to the curb, giving the right-of-way to
passing traffic before I sped out onto the high-way.
The guy was strange this was true, and he did seem
to show up in some of the most unlikely places and situations.
Maybe he had some kind of intuition a sixth sense or something.
Maybe he really was at that department store to pick up a gift
for a freind. Maybe I should have asked him out. Arrghh!
You're losing it, Brigatti. First stop, movie. Next stop,
nuthouse. Maybe not necessarily in that order, either.
Chapter 3
I took a quick shower and got dressed, snagging a cup of
black coffee on my way out. I hopped into my little BMW
(a little graduation gift from my father too many years ago
to recall) and headed across town to the mall over on High
Street.
Nancy Spiolie had mentioned that Mike's girlfriend worked
in a clothing store there, and I wanted to ask her a few
quick questions before I made any moves on this case.
The streets were still damp from the morning's down pour,
and just like the weather man's prediction, the skies were
threatening more showers. I took my time driving, cautious
of the slippery roads. Twenty minutes later I was circling
around the parking lot of the mall, surprised to find it already
crowded. Dispite the weatherman's warning, I had forgotten
my umbrella, but luckily there was an empty space near the
entrance.
I parked the car and sat for a few moments, scanning
quickly through my notes for the name of the woman
and the clothing store where she worked.
Was it Hellen? Hazel?...Ah..Heather Langsford.
Humm....Victoria's Secret. Should be interesting.
Flipping my note pad closed, I gabbed my bag,
and hurried into the mall.
Inside, the place was bustling with early morning shoppers.
Mothers pushing baby strollers browsed hurriedly, while out
front of one of the record stores a few high school teens,
probably playing hooky from school, jostled around while
listening to the "latest sounds," I swear the vibrations of
which made my teeth rattle. How they could bear to listen
to that noise is beyond me. I shook my head
and hurried past.
Up ahead, an old couple paused to rest on a bench
overlooking the huge water fountain in the center of the Mall.
The aroma of popcorn, pizza, and Chinese food filled the
air, reminding me that all I'd had was that morning was cup
of black coffee. I quickly located the store and went inside.
Mannequins in colorful fall fashion greeted me cheerfully as
I entered. Dresses, pantsuits and hats in the hottest new
trends adorned each one. Women's footwear of every style
and color were on display while the latest style of Victoria's
Secret lingerie begged for attention.
I pretended to browse for a few minutes, not wanting to start
off asking questions right away. As I worked my way towards
the perfume, I spotted a tall blonde standing behind the glass
counter. She was wearing one of those name tags that stuck
out like a sore thumb. It simply read: Heather. Assumeing it
must be her, I wandered nonchalantly over and began
tinkering around with a few of the sample bottles on the
counter. After a few minutes of my clinking around, she
looked up and smiled, flipping a long silky lock of hair
over her shoulder, the glint from the hugemongous rock
on her finger almost blinding me as she did so.
"May I help you ?" she asked. I have to admit, she looked
like I would have expected someone named Heather
would look. Hair, golden blonde, make-up and lipstick
done perfectly, as if she'd spent all morning perfecting
it. Blue liner rimmed blue eyes that were as big as the
Baltic sea.
"Heather? Heather Langsford?" I asked, wanting to be certain
she was who I was looking for and I smiled extra wide, not
wanting to intimidate her by looking, you know, too serious.
It didn't help, and only seemed to make matters worse. Her
expression changed to worry as she stared back at me.
"H-How do you know my last name?" she asked, looking
nervously about, probably for my accomplice.
I flashed my badge, "Toni Brigatti, private investigator. Could
I ask you a few questions?"
She looked faintly startled, "A private investigator? W-Who
hired you?"
I didn't want to let on that Mike's sister had hired me,
so I told a little white one.
"An acquaintance, who was...very close to Mike," I
answered, choosing my words carefully.
She drew a nervous breath, looking around again. "Well I-I'm
kind of busy right now."
"It'll only take a minute," I flashed a smile. "You knew Mike
Calibre, didn't you?"
She hesitated a moment before answering. "Of course.
Michael was my fiancee'."
"And you were the one who discovered the note?"
"Yes! A note! Look, I've already told everything
to the police."
"So...there wasn't a body?" I asked, glancing up
from my notes
Directly behind me, the sound of squeaking wheels
in serious need of some WD40 caught my attention.
I could hear panting and struggling that suggested extreme effort and I turned
around.
Two moving men were bringing in a
dolly stacked high with
boxes. Across the front of the boxes
read: Fragile! Heavy
Equipment-Handle with Care. The men were sweating
profusely, leaving me to assume that the boxes were extremely
heavy. I paused in my questioning to step aside, allowing them
room to pass. Heather looked concern as she
eyed the moving men with the oversized load.
"Excuse me," she said then turned to address the two movers.
"Sirs! Excuse me sirs! I really don't think that load is supposed
to be brought in through the store! This is a public place! Those
boxes are supposed to be brought in through the back, you
know, loading zone?!"
One of the exhusted movers paused to wipe his forehead
with a hanky he pulled from his pocket. He and his partner
were both sweating from the exertion of their task.
"I know lady," he wheezed checking his watch, " but the
loading door was closed and we're on tight schedule here.
We really gotta to get this stuff delivered."
Just then his beeper sounded. He pulled it out to take
a look and glanced up. "Is there a phone around? I
have an emergency call."
Heather blew out a frustrated breath and pointed angrily
towards the bathrooms a few feet away. "In the foyer
there. Make it fast please and remove this stuff!"
"Yeah,yeah." He groused. "C'mon." Motioning
to his partner both men walked away, leaving the
heavy boxes, unattended and partially blocking the isle.
Tapping my pen idly on my forehead, I waited patiently
until the situation quieted down, hoping Heather would
remember where we left off. Just in case she didn't, I
refreshed her memory. "So you didn't find his body that
night?".
She drew in an angry breath, and flashed me a look to
match. "No, I didn't! Look Miss er...Biscotti--"
"Brigatti."
"What-*ever*! Look... I have work to do!"
I ignored her anger, "Are you certain that Mike's dead?
I mean, it's possible that he may have taken a vacation
or something."
"Yes I'm sure!" she exclaimed. " I-I mean, I haven't heard from
him since the day before. He was very distraught about
something, which I've already told to the police. He left
a suicide note didn't he? "
By now the Baltic sea was flashing storm warnings and
I got the funny feeling she was beginning to be a little
irritated with me. I knew that it was time to move on.
"I have to go!" she snapped and turned on her heels
to leave but spun around suddenly to add, (and I could
tell that her heart wasn't in it,) "Have a nice day!" With that,
she stalked off in a huff, her yellow hair whipping the air
behind her.
Whew! What a hothead! I thought, fanning myself with my
notes. I blew out an exasperated breath and flipped my note
pad closed, then turned to scan the store again. I didn't have
enough information to make a case, and really needed to
ask her a few more questions.
However, I valued my life and decided instead to check
out a blouse I had spotted when I first walked in. I went
over to take a look, stepping cautiously around the dolly
with the oversized load. I had been browsing for a few
minutes when a loud commotion of someone shouting drew
my attention. The sound of footsteps racing hurridly down
an aisle in my direction, their frantic tapping on the linoleum
floor startling me badly enough that I reached for my gun.
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" A man's voice
was shouting.
Before I knew it, I was carried to the floor just as the huge
dolly the boxes were sitting on came barrelled down on us, taking
down the clothing racks on every side. The huge boxes
had toppled forward, crushing everything in their path. The
perfume counter that once stood crystal clear was
completely destroyed-- shattered glass and broken
perfume bottles were everywhere. Some of the glass
barely missed me as huge sheets went flying through
the air.
The sound of women and children screaming and crying
as they ran for cover was all around us, making it nearly
impossible to determine if there had been casualties.
On the floor, strong arms still held me, and it was a
moment before I could registered what had happened.
The pungent sweet smell of perfume from the shattered
bottles filled the air, making me incredibly nauseous.
Struggling to sit up, I worked frantically to un-bury myself
from the many assortment of clothing and hangers that
covered me.
Finally free, I yanked out of the arms that held me and spun
around quickly to behold my savior.
I promptly wished I hadn't.
"Hobson!?"
"Bri..gatti."
"W-What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, feeling
suddenly foolish as I struggled to get up. Finally on my
feet, I adjusted my clothing, brushing myself off all the while
glaring down at him.
From the floor, Hobson-who was covered with female clothing,
glanced up at me and seemed to be trying hard
to come up with an answer.
"I-I was just shopping," he finally sputtered.
I shot him an suspicious look before turning to assess the
damage caused by the heavy equipment. I suddenly
remembered Heather then looked frantically about for her finally
locating her standing at another counter, being consoled by a fellow
employee. I felt relieved that she was safe. I noticed also
accessing the damage, were the two movers and the store
manager. The moving men's faces were beet red as they stood,
nodding and scratching their heads trying to explain their
situation.
Ruffling a hand through my hair, I blew out a frustrated
breath then turned back to Hobson who was still on the floor.
"Is this gift for a male or female?" I questioned, knowing
that this wasn't the time or place.
"Howzat?" he asked, looking up from his newspaper
his expression totally befuddled. It was a simple enough
question. I was pissed and I didn't need to ask again.
"M-Male." he stammered quickly.
At that moment, both of us did a slow scan of our surroundings.
Womens' apparel was strewn all about, mingled with
shattered glass, stereo and tv equipment. For a brief
moment I forgot about the terrible mess and strived to make
sense of Hobson's answer.
Resolved to the fact that I may never understand Hobson,
I blew out a frustrated breath, and reached down to
gingerly remove from a pair of pink lace panties from his
shoulder and dangled it in front of his face.
"Male, huh?"
~*~*~*
Chapter 4
"I'll have the spinach salad." I told the waitress, closing
my menu.
"A...And I'll have the hero sandwich a-and a cup of
coffee--black, please," Hobson mumbled. The waitress
winked at him, gathered our menus, and departed quickly.
While the employees at Victoria's Secret scurried about
cleaning up the damaging mess and destruction the huge
boxes had caused, I persuaded Hobson to step over to the
little diner next door to answer a few questions for me. He
was reluctant of course, giving me some lame excuse about
having to be somewhere, but a quick flash of my badge
provided some additional persuasion and he went quietly.
Both of us, it turns out, were hungry, and we decided to order
a small bite to eat while we "chatted".
Staring at him sitting across from me, it just didn't
make any sense at all why he would be browsing
around in a clothing store for women.
"A hero sandwich?" I questioned, looking him up
and down. Although, it was quite possible that he
could have been looking for a little something
for his...girlfriend.
Hobson's face flushed slightly when he realized what
he had ordered. "I...I didn't mean anything by ordering
that sandwich, Brigatti, " he stammered, "I...I mean I--"
" Thanks...for what you did back there." I said, cutting
him off quickly.
He studied my face for a moment, nodding a silent,
" You're welcome," before glancing off cross the
restaurant.
I blew out an impatient breath, then checked my watch.
You would have thought we had ordered the whole
menu--what on earth was taking that waitress so long?!
I looked back towards the kitchen.
"So, I see you're still on the job Brigatti." Hobson's voice
interrupted my thoughts and I turned back around to find
him quietly watching me.
"That's right." I said, eyeing him suspiciously. " Actually, I'm
ah, no longer on the force, but still work for the city of Chicago."
He frowned, puzzled by my explanation. "So what exactly is
your position now? I mean, you went from Marshall to
detective to...."
"Private investigator," I interrupted. " I was up for a promotion
with the police department but turned it down."
"Howzat?"
.
"I just had a change in careers, Hobson. Decided I was tired of
always having to prove my-....." I paused, catching myself.
What was I spilling my guts to him for? It wasn't any of his
business what I did with my life. I cleared my throat and
changed the subject with as much grace as I could muster.
"I tell you, it was that lousy pizza."
He eyed me briefly, then smiled, looking
off across the restaurant again.
"I don't think I've ever seen you order so much Hobson."
I commented, bringing the conversation back to him.
" You wha--? " He turned back around.
"Food? Big sandwich? " I reminded him tactfully.
"Oh. I-I guess I was kind of hungry." He grinned, rubbing
the back of his neck.
An uneasy silence followed, as we sat staring across at one another,
my eyes focusing on the soft curve of his lower lip. I suddenly
remembered the kiss we were forced to share in that jewelry
store with Hobson, posing as my husband to help entrap a jewel thief
after he supposedly "presented" me with the famous Lermontov diamond.
I shudder remembering how much I allowed myself to get carried
away by that kiss. Damn him!
"You look good, Brigatti," he complimented hesitantly.
I arched a skeptical brow at him. "Oh.. you think so huh?"
He smiled, and dropped his head. "I-I just mean that...
well, I'm glad to see that..that you're doing okay." he
raised his head to look at me again.
I studied him suspiciously, "Flattery will get you nowhere
Hobson. " I said, " And I still want to know why you were in
that department store. Preferably the truth."
"Look...I already told you!"
"It's a woman's lingerie store Hobson." I droned, tired of all his
lame excuses.
"Didn't you just tell me that you were no longer on the
Chicago police force?" He asked.
Me and my big mouth. "Makes no difference to you,
Hobson." I said, leaning forward in my chair to glare
at him. "I still work FOR the police department of the City
of Chicago and right now, I have questions."
"But I have nothing to do with your case!"
He was right. Although I was still authorized to
make arrests, at the moment without an actual reason,
I had no authority what-so-ever. Luckily, he didn't know that.
I leaned back in my seat, both of us eyeing each other coldly.
It had been a long time since I'd last seen him. It was after
the Harland diamond scam case backfired on me. That
whole set-up with the US government still pisses me off every
time I think about it, and Hobson hadn't made my job any easier.
He and that little jaded... Jade! And that so-called "date" we
had gone on afterward, ha! I should have known better
than to take him up on that offer. I was still fuming about
being betrayed and the date turned out to be a complete disaster.
I studied him carefully, drumming my fingers impatiently on the
checkered table cloth. "Maybe you were the one who pushed
those boxes over, Hobson." I accused.
"Me?!"
"Yeah. Female underwear
store. You-- bolting from out of nowhere... suspiciously
from the vicinity of those boxes."
A dead silence.
"Seems kind of suspicious to me Hobson."
More silence.
"So..." I drew in a tired breath, " You wanna tell me about it.?"
"L-Look... Brigatti," he said, ruffling the back
of his hair. " If-If you must know, I...I was there to pick up
a package for a friend of mine."
"A friend."
"Yes. Th-This...friend of mine had ordered something for
his fiancée' a week ago and didn't think that he would
make it to the store in time to pick it up, so, being the
thoughtful friend that I am, I told him that I would pick it up
for him," he explained, eyes blinking.
"Oh yeah?" I asked leaning forward in my chair. "And where
is that package, Hobson."
"Huh?"
"The package?"
"I...I don't know." He shrugged innocently. "I-I mean, they
must have screwed up on the order o...or something
because it hadn't come in."
More blinking.
Another long silence followed as I sat in awe, glaring at this
gentle faced man. Who, with his squeaky-clean looks and southern
charm, always seemed be in the wrong place at the wrong
time--who repeatedly found himself in trouble because of it, and,
whose nose I could have sworn had grown a few inches long since
he first began telling that big lie! Simply amazing. Although I have to
admit, I liked how his lashes fluttered whenever he was fibbing or
how his mouth formed that delicious " O " whenever he tried to sound
convincing and right now he was looking especially...sweet and my
gut instinct was clueing me in that THIS, was a big one.
"I'm not buying it, Hobson!" I snapped "Now either you're
going to tell me the truth or...or..." I stammered, trying to think
of some abstruction of justice charge I could bestowe upon him.
I couldn't think of any.
"Or what?" Hobson asked, taking advantage of my
fluster.
For a moment, I sat staring across at him trying to
remember where
I had heard those words before. Suddenly,
I was back in my apartment staring into his
cold frighten face.
At one time, Hobson had been accused of murder
Somehow he managed to escape from jail and
was on the run for his life with all of Chicago PD
out searching for him. Returning home late
one night, I was totally surprised to find him standing
in my kitchen. He asked me for help. Knowing
the consequences I faced, I denied him that help.
"Hobson! Stay where you are!" I warned pulling my
gun on him.
Trapped and exhausted, Hobson had run out of options,
and with nowhere else to go, he played his last
card. Me.
"Or what?" He whispered, his tone challenging,
the look in his eyes uncaring-almost suicidal.
A chill to swept up the back of my neck.
But I held my position until he
realized, I wasn't going to help him out.
Lowering his gaze, Hobson backed away slowly,
and simply walked out, leaving me alone
and befuddled with my gun still held at point
blank range,
my finger still on the trigger. Hobson had
called my bluff.
The distant wail of a police siren broke me from my
reverie and I blinked, bringing myself back to the present. I
looked over at Hobson who was staring at me. I had forgotten
the question.
I cleared my throat, "W-What did you say?"
"Or what?" he repeated more irritably this time.
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I said, "O...Or...I just might
have to take you out."
I could not believe that I had said that! I certainly hadn't intended
for it to come out the way that it did. At that moment, the silence
was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife which we didn't
have because it was taking the waitress so long to return with
our order!
Hobson sat staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar, not sure what
to make of what he'd heard, or whether he had even heard correctly.
"Is that an invitation o-or a threat." he finally asked, searching my
face, as if for some kind of sign.
At that moment, the waitress appeared with our order.
"Here you go," she smiled, plopping a plate with an over stuffed
Hero sandwich down on the table in front of Hobson, and a
large salad in front of me.
Bout time, I thought, draping a napkin quickly across my lap.
Actually, I was quite relieved, knowing that the waitress's
sudden appearance was a good diversion from the question.
As we ate in silence, my mind was swarming with a
thousand questions
and thoughts of with what had gone on that morning. Hobson's
gaze had stirred something deep within me and I wasn't so
sure if I liked it. I did know that I had to get back to the Spiolie
case and that Hobson was just another distraction.
Afterwards, we stepped outside into the chill of the afternoon
and headed toward our respected cars. It was overcast, and had
stopped raining. I noticed that all during lunch, Hobson had seemed
edgy and had been checking that paper of his, as if he had someplace
to be. What is it about him and that.. paper?!
As we crossed the parking lot, I thought about the statement I had
made about taking Hobson out, and felt like a total idiot.
I still didn't believe the reason Hobson had given me as to why he
was at that store.
"Take care." He said, moving quickly towards his jeep. Stopping
abruptly, he turned back around. "Oh, ah...what
time shall I be ready?" he asked, his greenish-brown
eyes twinkling mischievously,
"Ready for what?" I asked as I got into
my car.
He blinked. "W-Well, I thought you said that you
might have to take me out--"
"That's right." I said, slamming the door shut then turned to
look up at him. "What'd you think I was talking about? Another
date?"
There was dead silence as we stared silently at each other.
Looking perplexed, Hobson slid a hand through his hair
and looked off breifly before glancing back down at me.
Apparently I had thrown him for another loop.
I started the car, letting the engine idle as I studied his
face. "Think about it Hobson." I said. "And...just stay... out
of my way, will you?"
I gunned the engine before slipping the car into gear.
I pulled up slowly to the curb, giving the right-of-way to
passing traffic before I sped out onto the high-way.
The guy was strange this was true, and he did seem
to show up in some of the most unlikely places and situations.
Maybe he had some kind of intuition a sixth sense or something.
Maybe he really was at that department store to pick up a gift
for a freind. Maybe I should have asked him out. Arrghh!
You're losing it, Brigatti. First stop, movie. Next stop,
nuthouse. Maybe not necessarily in that order, either.