"Clay? Is this a bad time?" She sounded so unsure of herself that I almost didn't recognize the voice.
"Rachel. No, I just got home." I loosened my tie and sank down on the sofa. "Are we still on for Saturday night?"
"Yeah. I just, um, well..."
"What's wrong?"
She let out a big sigh before answering. "It's Dottie."
I swore to myself that if Chegwidden had done something stupid, it wouldn't be my nose getting broken this time. "What happened?"
Somehow, out of the whirlwind, breathless explanation that followed, I managed to ascertain that Dottie had convinced herself that she wasn't good enough for that cowboy of an admiral, and that it was up to me to convince her otherwise. So much for a relaxing evening at home.
I got the directions to Doro's house and promised Rachel I'd call her later to let her know what happened. A half hour later I was parked in the driveway to an unassuming little frame house. I sat in the car for a minute, trying to remember what I was doing butting into Doro's business when I'd seen her all of twice in the last ten years. Then I remembered. Rachel. The smile snuck up on me. Some would say she wasn't my usual type, but I really didn't have a type. Most of the women I went out with were somehow connected with my job, which made for a boring social life.
A car on the street behind me brought me back to the present, so I made myself get out of the car and walk up to front door. No one answered my knock. Great. I'd dragged myself over here, with only Rachel's iffy directions to guide me, and she wasn't even home. I'd already turned to go back to the car when I heard the music. It was faint, but it was definitely there. As I rounded the corner of the house, the music got louder, and there were lights on in several windows. My stomach was sinking as I went on around to the back door and knocked again. Still no answer.
With horrible visions dancing in my head, I checked the lock. I was going to have to talk to Doro about getting some better security for her house. A three year old could pick this lock. Two minutes later, I was inside with my weapon drawn. A quick scan of the kitchen showed no signs of any disturbance, at least if you discounted the almost empty wine bottle on the counter. Cautiously, I followed the sound of the music, finally finding myself outside a closed door. The only sound was the radio.
I eased open the door and checked inside the room. What I found had my jaw dropping open. Doro was fast asleep in a bubble bath, but the bubbles were quickly dissipating. My first reaction was to congratulate myself on the good taste I'd shown at the age of ten. My second reaction, which followed within a split second, was that she was going to kill me. I must have made some sort of noise, because her eyes popped open, followed quickly by her mouth, which let out an earsplitting scream.
"Clayton! What the hell are you doing here?"
She was scrambling to cover herself as I spun around to face the hallway. "I knocked but you didn't answer. I heard the music on, and I thought you'd... I mean, I thought something had... Oh, boy."
"For God's sake, get out of here and let me put something on!"
"Oh." Somehow I found myself out in the hall, closing the door behind me. I kept trying to get the image of her lying in the tub out of my head, but it seemed to be burned onto my retinas. I wandered back to the kitchen and reached for the open bottle on the counter. I found a glass in the cabinet and poured in some of the wine. I took a cautious sip and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the wine. Taking my glass, I sat at the kitchen table and waited for Doro.
She walked in a few minutes later wearing a set of blue flannel pajamas with pink flamingos scattered over them and a pair of pink fuzzy slippers. The outfit was doing a good job of obliterating the memory of what I'd seen in the bath. After pouring herself the rest of the wine, she sat down across from me.
"Why are you here, Clayton?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Wait. Nevermind. Um, tell me, are you very fond of Rachel?"
"Why do you ask?"
"So I'll know whether to kill her, or just hurt her really bad." She took a drink of the wine.
"She's worried about you, Doro. So am I." I reached across the small table and took her hand. "Do you want to tell me what has you so worked up?"
"Not really. So, tell me about you and Rachel."
"Nice try. I didn't drive all the way over here to talk about us. I came over here to talk about you. Did Chegwidden do something stupid?"
"Yeah. He got involved with me. Well, I don't even know if you'd call it involved."
"I think he would, but you're making no sense. Frankly, he should consider himself damned lucky."
"Yeah, right. He's real lucky. Not. I'm sure that the high muckety-mucks in the Navy will look favorably on him being involved with a screwup like me."
"Why the hell are you being so hard on yourself, woman?"
"I'm being realistic, Clay. I don't fit into his world and that's that. It was stupid to let things get this far before I figured that out."
"Just how far have things gotten anyway?"
She blushed. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually seen a woman blush. "None of your business, Clayton."
"Nevermind, I think I got my answer." I didn't work for the agency for nothing.
"Sweetheart, I don't know where you got your ideas about AJ Chegwidden, but I think you're mistaken. I've known the man for years, and while we haven't always gotten along," I couldn't help rubbing my nose just a bit, "I think I know him well enough to know that he is an honorable man. He is many things, but a snob is not one of them."
"But I've heard him talk about the kind of women he usually dates, and they are educated, sophisticated women."
"Which one was that? The doctor who was so hung up on her son that she couldn't see that he was a drug dealer until he got AJ's truck impounded? Or the professor who couldn't even boil water without setting her house on fire? At heart AJ is just a cowboy from Texas who likes chili and Shakespeare."
"I don't know, Clay..."
She wanted to believe me, but she still didn't have enough faith in herself to know that Chegwidden was definitely getting the better end of this deal.
"Have I ever lied to you, Doro?"
"Yes."
"What? When?"
"I was 13, and Mom gave me that really bad home perm. You said it looked great."
"I was 11. You trusted me to know hair fashions?"
"You seemed to think you knew everything else."
"I did. And I still do. At least you're smiling."
"Don't take credit, Clayton Webb. It's the wine."
"Whatever you say." I stifled a yawn. "I'm sorry to run off, but I've been up since yesterday morning, and I have to get home."
"Thanks for coming by, Clay." She stood up and walked me to the front door. "I'm really glad you're back in my life. I missed my friend."
"I did too." I kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Make sure you lock up behind me, and see about getting some better locks on these doors. It was way too easy for me to get in here tonight."
"I will, I promise." She watched me walk to my car, then closed the door behind me.
It was going to be a long drive home.