Mustard on Top (10 page)

“Did you get into an accident?” Helen gestured toward the Mercedes.

“A little fender bender. Nobody got hurt.”

“Why are you hiding behind the door?”

Agatha squeezed herself through the door’s opening to stand on the porch. She closed the door behind her. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your DerFoodle Dog.”

“Don’t change the subject. How’d you get into an accident?”

“The DerFoodle is beginning to outsell all the other—”

“Agatha,” Helen interrupted. “What happened to your car?”

Agatha sighed. “The brakes failed.”

“What? Your car is less than a year old.”

“It’s a shame, I agree. The dealership is sending a tow truck.”

“That’s scary.” Helen couldn’t believe anything of Agatha’s would have the gall to fail. “So what happened?”

“Luckily I wasn’t going very fast. I swerved to miss a car and hit a tree instead,” Agatha said. “I uprooted the poor thing.”

“How awful.”

“The worst part is, I got my first moving violation.” Agatha scowled. “If I can prove the problem was a mechanical, the officer said I could get the ticket reversed.”

“Ben said he your car was towed here?”

“I wish I’d thought of going straight to the dealership, but I didn’t.”

From the porch, Helen scrutinized the gleaming, cotton-candy-pink Mercedes.

“How’s the kitchen coming along?” Agatha asked. “I’ve seen deliveries.”

“The kitchen is incredible,” Helen said absently. Agatha was acting out of character and withholding information. “What’s going on, Agatha?”

Agatha crossed her arms under her chest. “Everything is fine.”

“Come on, Agatha. I can tell you’re lying.”

Agatha’s shoulders drooped. “If you must know, Jeremy is back.”

A headache started behind Helen’s eyes and she squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Oh no. Is he strung out?”

“He says he’s not, but I don’t believe him.”

“Is he the one who wrecked your car?”

“My brakes failed.” Agatha planted a fist on her hip.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I don’t. So about the DerFoodles—”

“Actually Agatha, can we talk later? I planned to help Ben with the roof.”

Agatha expelled a breath. “Okay. Go on.”

Chapter 6

Agatha sat at her vanity and brushed her long, wavy, silver-blonde hair. Alfred had always liked her hair. Her old, clear, blue eyes still had some shine and for the first time in her life, she compared favorably against her peers. As a child and teen, she’d been a lanky bookworm. Agatha had never had the healthy glow of a beautiful tan, and when she went outside, she dutifully protected herself with sun-block.

Now, at a time in her life when she least expected it, she felt handsome. “Good for you,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. A boost of confidence would help her in the game she and Moe were playing.

Jeremy had, no doubt, told Moe she had money. Did Moe really think he’d lure her into giving away her savings? She’d never become an iconic, little old lady who’d been ripped off. No, she had other plans like running her own sting operation. Her days of paying off men like Moe were over.

Agatha pulled on a white blouse and wrapped a thin, deep-purple scarf around her neck. The purple contrasted with the silver of her hair and her light skin drawing attention to her face. She stepped into pressed, size-ten, black slacks. Thanks to walking a two-mile loop each day and meticulous eating choices, she’d been the same size for thirty years. Pecking through her jewelry, she settled on a pair of pearl, stud earrings. Satisfied, she checked the clock. Moe should arrive in ten minutes.

In the hallway, she stopped at Jeremy’s door. He was inside, probably sleeping or perhaps seething in anger. She didn’t believe he would have cut her car’s break lines if he’d been clean. To confront him in his state of mind would get her nowhere. One way or another, things would be over soon. She was too old and too cantankerous to put up with Moe or Jeremy. If she played her cards right, Moe would be behind bars and Jeremy would be in rehab.

Her experience dictated men like Moe were slippery. The police would be ineffective until she had the right evidence.

The ringing doorbell pulled Agatha from her mental tug-of-war. She went to the front door, took a deep breath, and, plastering a smile on her face, greeted Moe. His eyes widened as if pleasantly surprised, and Agatha grinned inwardly.

Moe wore a tailored sport coat, which fit his broad shoulders and relatively narrow waist. He was handsome for an older man in a rogue sort of way. “My, isn’t it a lovely evening?” Agatha asked.

“Not as lovely as the sight before me. Are you ready?”

“One moment.” Agatha picked up her small, black clutch.

“Can I lead you?” Moe offered his arm.

“Oh you.” Agatha giggled like a schoolgirl and weaved her hand around his unnervingly solid arm. Moe led her to a Lincoln Continental, and before stepping in she glanced toward Helen’s house. She was relieved Helen and Ben were out of view. When Moe followed her gaze, she asked, “They are making a racket aren’t they?”

“Indeed.”

Moe opened the back door, and Agatha gazed at him quizzically.

“We have a driver for the evening,” he announced.

Agatha hinged at the waist and peered in the front passenger window. The driver gave her a nod. Agatha climbed in and, sitting stiffly, grasped her clutch in both hands. She would have preferred Moe to be distracted by driving. “You sounded so mysterious on the phone. What are our plans for the evening?” she asked got in.

Moe smiled. “I thought we’d have dinner at MaGilicutty’s then take a walk along the beach at sunset. After, if you’d like, there’s a late-night showing of
Indiscreet
at the Nalley Theatre Playhouse.”

“Sounds terrific.” She loved the theatre and wondered if Moe had guessed or somehow knew that fact.

“I have you pegged as an avid reader. Am I right?” Moe asked.

“You are. I’m impressed. How’d you draw that conclusion?”

“Ah, tricks of the trade.”

Agatha thought for a moment. “Moe, what trade are you in exactly?”

Moe cleared his throat. “I guess you could call me a venture capitalist.”

“Venture capitalist,” Agatha repeated. “So you loan money to aspiring entrepreneurs. Why would you be working with my son?”

Moe smiled sadly. “Simple business arrangement. I loaned him money, and now I’m trying to collect.”

“You loaned him money because Jeremy was planning on starting a business? Jeremy hasn’t told me, what business did he start with your money?”

A big man like Moe looked comical squirming in his seat. When he glanced out the window, Agatha slid her hand in her clutch and grasped the little, metal device. Moe looked back to her before she could hide it.

“Something to do with pharmaceuticals, I don’t recall the details exactly. Jeremy could tell you more.”

“What a pity. I would have enjoyed seeing Jeremy’s business plan, although he’s never struck me as ambitious.” Agatha fell quiet. Moe’s posture was casual enough, but the muscles in his jaw worked. Her research on loan sharks and con artists had paid off.

With the bug in her hand, she rotated toward him while dropping it on the floor. She shifted her feet, kicking the bug under the passenger’s seat. A bug was good, but video was better, and while the miniscule webcam in her brooch would capture their conversation and his image, she wanted more. “Did you threaten to kill Jeremy?”

Moe flinched. “Of course not.”

“Why do you think Jeremy would make such an accusation?”

“I’m sure you know Jeremy better than I do.” Several seconds lapsed. “In my dealings with him, I began to wonder… I hate to say this, but I think he may use drugs. Obviously had I realized his problem up front, I never would have done business with him.”

Agatha pursed her lips to keep from laughing. One of her hands fluttered to her chest, feigning shock. “Do you think the drugs made him say such things?”

“I would assume he suffers from paranoia.” Moe’s brown, puppy-dog eyes seemed guilt free.

“I suppose that’s possible.” Agatha dropped her gaze to her lap, hoping to appear distraught. “I don’t know what to do, with his father gone and all.”

****

Ben slid a shingle in place, positioned a nail, and hammered it flat in two strokes. His blackened thumb warned of the perils of moving too fast, yet he rushed his motions. With less than a week left, he worried he wouldn’t finish the projects he’d started.

His stomach ached when he thought of leaving. Helen and Theo had woven their way through the cracks of his damaged soul. He wanted to stay longer, but none of the other attorneys in his firm had agreed take over his caseload for an additional week. Given the way the court system worked, delaying his cases wasn’t an option.

Ben pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the task at hand. He didn’t want to leave Helen with an unfinished roof and an unfinished kitchen.

The sound of squealing children caught his attention. From his vantage point, Ben saw into the backyards of Helen’s neighbors. In one an older man, wearing a Seahawks baseball cap backwards, worked to light a fire in his barbecue. A couple of adults sat on chairs talking while three kids chased each other in a game of tag.

In Ben’s world, comprised of high-rises, courtrooms, and expensive restaurants, he rarely encountered children. Sure, coworkers
had
them, and on the occasional weekend, he’d encounter one or two kids at the office, but for the most part their care was relegated to nannies or the occasional stay-at-home spouse.

The focus of Ben’s life had become making the rich richer. Ben forced his gaze away, snatched several shingles, and scooted across the roof, scratching his arm in the process. He placed the tile, positioned the nail, and swung the hammer driving the nail in one swing.

“What can I do to help?”

Ben jumped at hearing Helen’s voice. She was poised on the peak of the roof wearing work gloves and a gray sweatshirt. Her dark, shiny hair was swept into a messy ponytail. Ben’s heart lurched. Although kind and generous, Helen wore her independence like a badge. “What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“I’m helping.”

“You should be relaxing, you’re not obligated to help.”

“I didn’t ask if I was obligated. I live here.” She scuttled up next to him.

“Did you take your shots today?” he asked.

“Don’t change the subject. Show me what to do.”

“I’m serious. You could die if you fell off the roof.”

“Oh brother.” Helen’s mouth quirked on one side. “You’ve been taking lessons from Theo.”

“Well, did you?”

“Yes I did,” she answered testily then pointed. “The roof.”

The urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed Ben. “You’ve got a million things on your plate. I’ve got this under control. Take a break.”

“If you don’t tell me what to do, I’ll make it up as I go.”

Well acquainted with the negotiation process and stubborn people, Ben decided not to argue. “Brat.” He gave her the basics.

When he finished, Helen asked, “That’s all there is to it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Helen frowned. “I should have reroofed years ago.” Her gaze skimmed the roof. “It looks professional. You do good work.”

A childish pride welled inside Ben. “Thank you.”

“Can I take some of these?” Helen gestured toward the pile of shingles.

“Sure.”

As Ben watched Helen collect the shingles and move into place, he wondered what she thought about him, and whether she viewed his arrival as good or bad for Theo. He’d ask her another time.

When the light faded to the color of murky water, Ben packed his tools into his belt and stood on the roof’s peak. To the south lay the Nalley Boardwalk and Salmon Bay. The yellow-white sun cast orange-and-pink rays across cloudless skies and over water dotted with green islands. Off to the east was Mount Rainier. Ben had forgotten his Nalley was breathtaking.

He called out, “Helen, you need to see this view.”

“In a second.”

A few minutes later, Helen scooted next to him. “I’m not balancing on the peak like you,” she announced.

Ben smiled down at her, glad to be able to share the moment. “Look at the sunset, it’s breathtaking.”

“Yep. I have the pleasure of seeing it nearly every day at work.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow, of course she did.

Helen drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Ben sat beside her. “You cold?”

“A little.”

Ben inched closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m just keeping you warm.” She fit like she belonged there.

Helen slid him a sideways glance then pointed. “That’s Edgar Island.”

“You have a great view from up here. If you popped the top and installed a balcony, you’d double maybe even triple the value of your home.”

“Yeah, but we don’t need that much space, although I’ve always sort of planned to build a catwalk.”

“I’ve missed living here.” Ben surprised himself with the statement. “Helen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for the past, for the selfish bastard I used to be.”

Helen’s shoulders went rigid. “I’m over it.” Her voice sounded cold.

“You been so good about my returning,” he said, unsure why he was bringing up the topic. Did he want her to say she understood? That she forgave him?

“I’ll push you off the roof if that makes you feel better.” Her offer sounded a little too genuine.

“Seriously, weren’t you angry with me all those years?”

Helen sighed, continuing to stare at the sunset. She let several beats pass before responding. “Anger is an ugly emotion I try not to indulge in. I’d rather worry about other things.”

“Have you been happy?”

Helen jerked her face his direction then scooted out of his embrace. The fire in her eyes seared Ben’s heart. “Are you asking me if you ruined my life?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“If you think the lack of your presence in my life or in Theo’s life has made our lives hell, you’re a pretty pompous ass.”

“I don’t think that.” Bewildered, Ben stared down at the rooftop.

“What did you mean?”

“Why aren’t you married? You’re beautiful and smart, you deserve...” his voice trailed off when he realized anything he said could be taken as an insult.

Helen scoffed. “For your information, I did marry.”

“Huh?”