Knock 'Em Dead. Rhonda Pollero
for in a man. All save for one. The initial physical spark had kind of fizzled. But I’d read in Cosmo that that was pretty normal. Something about greedy lust being replaced by comfort and security the longer two people were together. That was probably it. I was comfortable with Patrick and God knew he treated me well. But secretly, I longed for passion with a capital P, underlined in red and italicized. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt the tingle of excitement in the pit of my stomach. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Well, that was a lie. I do remember it.
It happened a couple of months ago when Liam McGarrity walked into my office and shook my hand for the first time. Zing.
I closed my eyes briefly and dismissed all thoughts of Liam. Sucking in a deep breath, I pressed the Redial button. Patrick picked up on the second ring.
“Fin, honey, I’ve been worried.”
He sounded so sincere that I felt more like a creep for replaying the Liam moment in my head. My guilt was so palpable that I was certain I was sending out a telepathic confession that bounced from cell tower to cell tower.
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t be fine,” he insisted. “I saw the footage. What happened?”
I told him the sordid tale, finishing with, “So I’ve got a tight window to raise some cash.”
“I can help with the cash,” Patrick offered without hesitation, tugging at my heart. “I can get my hands on three, maybe four grand by tomorrow. Just tell me you won’t do anything wacko like doing your own little investigation. Yes, you had some measure of success on that Hall thing, but you also nearly got yourself killed in the process. You’re Finley Tanner, not Jessica Fletcher.”
Three or four grand.
He didn’t ask me to promise about the investigating thing, so I didn’t feel bad about not doing so. But I crossed my fingers behind my back just in case the promise was implied despite my nonanswer. Those gods could be tricky.
Three or four grand. Three or four grand. I kept repeating that over and over. I needed the money more than I needed to comment on the dismissive way I’d taken his remark. Besides, he was right. I had gotten in way over my head in the Hall thing and had almost been killed. Patrick was just expressing concern for my safety, not diminishing me. That was my mother’s domain. We agreed that I’d call him as soon as I knew the who and how much.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“Thanks, no, I’ve got a lot of calls to make and I’ve got some stuff to do at the office.” Investigating? Until that moment it hadn’t even dawned on me that I could look into a few things. I knew the details of the date and I had a key to Jane’s place. Wouldn’t hurt to gather some preliminary information for the as-yet-secured attorney and might just give me some leverage in the hiring process.
“Fin?” Patrick prompted.
“Sorry. No, thanks. I’m fine and I know you just got back last night. How was your trip?”
“Uneventful. I got you presents.”
“Thank you. Do I get a hint?” Patrick always brought me thoughtful gifts from the cities he visited for work.
“Sex on the beach.”
“Ah, peach schnapps, vodka, cranberry juice, orange juice, and pineapple juice?”
“Not the cocktail,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Think black and red.”
“A sunburned zebra?”
“Lousy guesses, Fin. You’re slipping. I can swing by FedEx and get them to cash a check. I’ll bring you the money and then take you out for dinner. You can probably use the diversion.”
He was so sweet. How could I even think of dumping him? How stupid would that be?
After thanking him and agreeing to dinner at seven o’clock, I paused for a minute to steel myself before I called my mother. Every muscle in my body tensed as I punched her number and waited for the connection. Three rings, four rings; then her machine picked up.
“I apologize but I’m unavailable right now. Please leave a message at the tone.”
Beep.
“Uh, Mom, it’s Finley. I guess you saw the news this morning and, well, I need—”
Click.
“Finley Anderson Tanner,” my mother cut in, using the tone a parent uses on an errant four-year-old. I had various visceral reactions to the various disapproving tones my mother used on me. This one crawled down my back like a particularly nasty black spider. I was going to have to buck up. I was going to have to beg the spider for a hefty chunk of change.
She’d probably do more than crawl up and down my back. Knowing my mother, she’d want her pound of flesh. Which was mixing metaphors, but that was my mother. A mixed bag of unpleasant metaphors.
“You were screening?” I practically choked.
“Of course. Do you have any idea how many of my friends were tuned to Channel 5? My phone has been ringing nonstop. You can’t imagine how distressing this morning has been.”
“My morning wasn’t all that great either.” I winced. Now was so not the time for sarcasm. Unfortunately, my mother had a unique ability to bring out the worst in me. Which under normal circumstances was okay, since I brought out the worst in her. I figure that makes it pretty much of a wash. But today was a long way from normal.
“What have you gotten yourself into now? And what on earth were you wearing? Your hair wasn’t even combed. You looked absolutely dreadful.”
“I was caught a little off guard.” A little off guard? I admired my own subtlety.
“Without a brush or a proper negligee? What happened to the satin lilac one I gave you for your birthday?”
It’s in the top of my closet with the other lilac things you insist on buying me even though I look like an autopsy photo in lilac. “It’s so…lovely I save it for special occasions.”
“I think an arrest would qualify as a special occasion. What happens if the St. Johns get wind of this? The wedding is ninety-one days away and now is not the time to upset them.”
“I won’t tell them if you don’t.”
“Do not get flippant with me. I’ve already had to cancel the Junior League luncheon today because of your antics. What were you thinking, Finley! How could you become involved in the murder and mutilation of a man?”
Like the murder and mutilation of a woman would have been okay? “I’m not involved,” I said, striving for an even tone. “My friend Jane is.”
“Then you need a better caliber of friends.” I could just imagine her tattooed eyebrows trying to squeeze through the Botox into a frown. “I think you should do everything possible to extricate yourself from this mess expediently.”
Ease into it. “It will all go away as soon as Jane is cleared. You remember Jane. You liked her.”
“That was before she was accused of cutting off a man’s…his…”
“Penis?” God, why were those two syllables so difficult for people to say? “At any rate, once Jane has a proper attorney, she’ll be released on bail and I’m sure she’ll be cleared in no time.”
“For everyone’s sake, I hope that’s true.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” I took a deep breath. “An attorney and bail are expensive and I don’t have any cash. I’m not saying I need money right now, but just in case, will you help me?”
There was a deadly silence that didn’t bode well. My mother won the