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Authors: Kathy Herman

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Eye of the Beholder (9 page)

BOOK: Eye of the Beholder
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Owen closed his menu. “I’ll have the same. Ranch dressing on the side.”

“All righty. I’ll have this out to you in just a few minutes.”

Guy took a sip of water and didn’t say anything else until the waitress was out of earshot. “Owen, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I feel as if your mother and I are living two separate lives. We don’t share the same goals, the same friends, the same likes and dislikes, the same
anything
. Sometimes I don’t even feel as though I know her anymore.”

“Don’t you think your working in Tallahassee half the week has something to do with that?”

“No. We were fine for over a year—until she got involved in the search for Sarah Beth Hamilton. And after Billy and Lisa surrendered the girl to the authorities, your mother became obsessed with the whole lot of them—and the other weird friends she spends too much time with. She doesn’t seem to care anymore if she gets published.”

Owen’s index finger moved slowly around the rim of his water glass. “Are you and Mom even talking about all this?”

“I try. Seems to bounce right off her. You know how stubborn she is. But my biggest concern is her relationship with this Mina Tehrani. The Hamiltons, the Lewises, and that gossip Blanche what’s-her-name are just annoyances. But the Tehrani woman could be bad news.”

Ellen Jones opened the wrought iron gate and went up the stone walkway toward the Tehrani’s house, cooled by the shade of the live oaks in the front yard. She went up on the porch and rang the doorbell, noticing for the first time the initial “T” in the rectangular stained-glass window above the front door.

Half a minute later, Mina Tehrani opened the door and threw her arms around Ellen and clung tightly for several seconds. “Come in, my friend.”

Ellen handed her a still-warm loaf of homemade oatmeal bread. “I thought this might taste good. I know you’re not eating.”

“You know too much,” Mina said. “Yes, I had not thought of food. But aroma makes me hungry. I’ll have a slice if you will.”

“All right.” Ellen followed Mina out to the kitchen. “How long was the FBI here?”

“Long enough to ask same questions over and over. I tell them same answers, but they ask anyway.”

“Mina, I’m sure you know this, but be sure your husband has a good attorney.”

“Ali told FBI he does not want attorney. He has nothing to hide.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“My husband would never allow attorney to tell him, ‘say this,’ or ‘don’t say that.’ He will speak truth. FBI will see that. Would you like coffee with bread slice?”

“Sure, but why don’t you let me help you?”

Mina motioned for Ellen to sit. “Please, it is good for me to be busy. I’ve been moping around like rag doll.”

“You realize the FBI has to either charge Ali with something or let him go?”

Mina’s eyes drooped with exhaustion. “Ali is free to go. He is helping FBI find Bobak.”

“Ali’s nephew?”

“Yes. Bobak is loudmouth, but not terrorist. FBI will see that, too.”

Mina cut a thick slice of bread and halved it. She put it on a blue china plate and set it in front of Ellen, then put a small bowl of preserves and a butter dish on the table.

“Is it possible Bobak isn’t harmless? I mean, it’s pretty brazen for an Iranian student to protest against U.S. Middle Eastern policies right now. He has to know that he’ll draw the attention of Homeland Security and the FBI.”

“Bobak is young fool. He has acquired no wisdom and
mouth is much too big for brain. But he is all talk.” Mina set her plate on the table and poured coffee into Ellen’s cup and then her own. “The men Coast Guard arrested intended to harm people of United States with suicide bombs and surface-to-air missile—horrible weapons. Bobak uses only mouth as weapon. FBI will see that.”

Ellen studied her friend’s face as she sat across from her at the table. Did Mina believe what she was saying about Ali’s nephew, or was it wishful thinking?

“Did your friends from the mosque stay with you last night?”

Mina shook her head. “I sent them home. I could not listen to any more negative talk. That accomplishes nothing.”

“They’re angry the FBI questioned you and Ali?”

Mina’s eyebrows gathered and she took a sip of coffee. “Also scared who might be next.”

“What about you?”

Mina dabbed her eyes. “I must trust FBI to resolve matter. Ali has nothing to do with terrorists. He is not violent person and believes …” Mina paused, her chin quivering. “I should not speak of this.”

“You can trust me,” Ellen said.

Mina looked at her searchingly, a tear trickling down her cheek. “Ali believes terrorists twist meaning of jihad to justify evil pursuits. He speaks only to me about this and is afraid we will not be welcome at mosque if he criticizes publicly. This is no problem for me. My heart grew cold toward Islam long ago. But Ali could not bear such a separation.” Mina folded her arms on the table and looked out the window. “Jews, Christians, Muslims—all claim to be children of Abraham. So why do we go on hating each other?”

Guy sat working in his study, aware of the garage door opening and closing, the rumbling in his stomach, and the delicious
aroma of Ellen’s pot roast. He was ready for a home-cooked meal but didn’t look forward to sitting across the table from his disgruntled wife.

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hello.”

“Guy, it’s Brent. Listen, Donna and I are going to have to bow out of dinner tomorrow night. Her sister is coming in from Fort Lauderdale to escape a nasty weekend. That tropical storm is expected to hit along the east coast sometime tomorrow and dump ten inches of rain.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

“I hope our canceling won’t be a problem.”

“No, not at all. We’ll do it another time. You and Donna have a nice weekend with her sister. I’ll see you Monday.”

“All right. Thanks for understanding.”

Guy hung up the phone and went out to the kitchen where Ellen was unloading a sack of groceries. He noticed a package of pork tenderloin on the countertop.

“Who was on the phone?” Ellen said.

“Brent. He and Donna can’t make it tomorrow night.”

Ellen stopped unloading the sack and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I just bought everything I need to make dinner.”

“Sorry. Donna’s sister lives in Fort Lauderdale and is coming to Tallahassee to escape the tropical storm. Can’t you freeze the meat?”

“I could. I like it fresh.”

“Sorry. At least you don’t have to spend the day tomorrow preparing for dinner guests.”

Ellen opened the refrigerator and put the meat in the bottom pull out drawer. “It’s not the preparation I mind, it’s Brent flaunting his conquests.”

“Yes, he has a weakness for women, but he’s also a great attorney with an enviable professional reputation. Don’t forget he helped Owen get the CFO position at Global. Plus, Brent’s a stimulating conversationalist. The guy’s really smart.”

“He may be intelligent, but his actions tell me he isn’t
smart
.” Ellen walked over to the pantry and took out a jar of horseradish.

“That’s unfair, Ellen. The people you spend time with can’t hold a candle to Brent in education, success, or anything else.”

“How about morals?”

“Brent’s okay. He just needs the Lord.”

“Amen to that.” Ellen picked up two potholders and opened the oven door. “It’s not my place to judge Brent. It just irritates me that you act as though he’s a class act just because he’s a Harvard grad and has a successful law firm. It takes more than financial success to make a person classy. Brent’s an alley cat. And frankly, I’m tired of you always coming to his defense.”

“Then maybe you can understand how
I
feel, listening to you defend those Muslim friends of yours!”

Ellen pricked the pot roast with a fork, then carried the roasting pan from the oven to the stovetop and set it down. “That’s an unjust comparison, Counselor. The Tehranis have done nothing wrong.”

“That’s what you keep saying, but I think you’re naïve.”

“I’m sure you do. Dinner’s ready. Why don’t I fill your plate and bring it to the table?”

“Actually, I’ve got lots of work still to do. I think I’ll eat my dinner in my study.”

Ellen handed him an empty plate without looking up. “Suit yourself.”

 8
 

T
he Monday morning sky was a canvas of glowing pink and purple when Guy Jones set down his briefcase and walked out on the veranda where Ellen sat reading the newspaper.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Ellen turned the page, her eyes fixed on the newspaper. “Fine.”

Thanks for the lousy weekend!
Guy turned around and left, raw determination keeping him from reacting to another of her one-word responses.

He picked up his briefcase and his garment bag on the way out the kitchen door. He got in his Mercedes, backed out of the garage, and headed for Tallahassee, relieved to be away from Ellen’s pouting.

He drove through Seaport and Port Smyth, his neck and shoulders tight and his heart empty, wondering when he had gone from being happily married to dreading being alone with his wife. When had they stopped understanding each other? Or stopped listening?

Guy took the Tallahassee exit and merged into the river of traffic going north. He slid a Kenny G disc into the CD player and turned up the volume.

Ellen loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, then picked up the phone and dialed the Hamiltons’ number.

“Hello.”

“Julie, it’s Ellen. I’m going to have to opt out of going with you and Sarah Beth to the zoo tomorrow.

“What’s up?”

“I need to cut back on my activities for a while and be more present to Guy.”

“Okay. But I thought he was in Tallahassee till Wednesday.”

“He is. But he’d like me to be around the house more and to get back to my writing. When I go too many directions it seems to make him stressed.”

“Sarah Beth and I will miss you, but I understand. You sound down. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just trying to focus on my priorities.”

“Okay, talk to you later. Wait, Sarah Beth’s taking the phone …”

“Hi, what’s your name?” said a tiny voice.

“This is Miss Ellen. Is this Sarah Beth?”

“Yes, and my mama take me to see big, big, big,
big
el-fants!”

Ellen smiled. “Have a wonderful time, sweetie. I want to hear all about the zoo when you get back.”

“Okay, ’bye.”

Ellen heard a muffled sound and then Julie chuckling. “Think she’s a little excited?”

“I wish I were going. I’m sorry to saddle you with the long drive by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s probably good that you’re spending the week at home. You have been pretty busy. Are you going to cancel your Bible study with Billy and Lisa?”

“No, those kids are working too hard for me to change the plan. But I’m canceling everything else.”

“Okay, I’ll check in later in the week and let you know how the zoo adventure turns out.”

“Thanks, Julie. Give Sarah Beth a hug for me.”

Ellen hung up the phone and redialed.

“Hello?”

“Blanche, it’s Ellen. Do you think you can get another ride to the eye doctor this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’m sure I can. Is something wrong?”

“I seem to have overextended myself and I’m feeling a little pushed.”

“That’s all right, dear. I’ll find someone else to drive me. But I’ll so miss seeing you.”

“Thanks for understanding. We’ll get together soon.”

Ellen hung up the phone and the doorbell rang. She went to the front door and opened it and saw two men in sport coats standing on the porch.

“Yes?”

“FBI. Are you Ellen Jones?” the older of the two said.

Ellen nodded, her eyes fixed on the ID he held out.

“I’m Special Agent Seth Walker and this is Special Agent Jim Green. We’d like to talk to you about Dr. Ali Tehrani. May we come in, ma’am?”

“Yes, of course.”

Ellen held open the door, her heart pounding. She led the men into the living room, seated them on the couch, then sat in the loveseat facing them.

“How can I help you?” she said.

BOOK: Eye of the Beholder
12.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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