The Bovine Connection (35 page)

John Kaye chuckled sarcastically. “Ms. Bradley, you just be careful now about turning over too many rocks -- never know what you’ll find underneath one of them. Things that like damp, dark spaces can be dangerous when…” His words were unsettling and they were clearly threatening.

Angelica’s scalp prickled as the hair on her arms stood on end. “Can I quote you on that, sir?”

John Kaye narrowed his eyes and smirked. Angelica smiled. “I suggest you do the same. Sometimes things that like damp, dark spaces have great difficulty surviving when they are forced into the light.” Angelica smirked. John Kaye stiffened.

“Look, Mr. Chairman, a friend of mine was murdered in Elberton, Montana, right in the shadow of Newton’s Air Force Base. My laptop was stolen. In the last few days I have been followed all the way from Denver to the parking lot of my magazine. If any of this can be traced back to even a semblance of what you are embroiled in, I promise you I will make it my life’s mission to see that you personally hand deliver your resignation to the President. I won’t be intimidated. Not by you… Not by anyone! Good day, sir,” Angelica stated, her muscles tight, before disappearing, leaving the door open behind her.

John Kaye instinctually yelled out… “You just be careful, Ms. Bradley,” before he sat down, leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair and rubbed his thumb and index finger across his top lip.

               
A
ngelica shut her car door and slumped back, raising her hand to her forehead and letting out a sigh. “Asshole!” she shouted. She opened her purse and found her cell phone. There was a missed text from Gail, along with two new voicemails.

Gail was short and to-the-point. “How’d it go with Kaye? You should stay the night at my place to be safe!”

Angelica responded to her text, “Good idea, thanks! I’ll fill you in tonight. Need to stop at my place and grab a bag first.”

Angelica started the engine and pulled out while listening to her voicemail. The first was from Dr. Goolrick… “Hello Angelica, this is Walter Goolrick. My flight lands at nine in the morning. My colleague is expecting us. Meet me inside the Regents Hall building at the Georgetown University Campus at eleven o’clock in the morning. Hope this message finds you well my dear.” Angelica nodded to the security guard at the gate as she drove past.

The next message was from Dr. Marc Bishop. “Hi Angelica, Marc Bishop… Have everything arranged. Can you leave tomorrow afternoon? Just let me know. Thanks.”

Angelica called Dr. Bishop back immediately and got him on the second ring, “Hi Marc, Just got your message. There’s a slight problem, I have a meeting in the morning… I won’t be able to make an afternoon flight unless it’s late in the afternoon.”

“I see, well, I suspected it might be inconvenient. There is another flight out. Could you leave around six o’clock tomorrow evening?”

Angelica was glancing around while driving back toward her townhouse. “That would be better. What time do I need to be at the airport?”

“Meet outside of United at five tomorrow evening. I’ll make the reservations now. I’ll try to upgrade us to first class. If not, I’ll buy you a Scotch in coach,” his tone playful. 

“Okay, perfect!” Angelica said as she nervously looked out of her rearview mirror.

“The aerospace facility is right outside of Vegas. Is there somewhere you prefer to stay?” he asked. 

“Oh, let’s see. You know, I’m not that picky,” Angelica said sarcastically, “but I do like the newer, more modern hotels when I stay in Vegas… How about the Cosmopolitan? I’ve never stayed there, and I’m sure it will be crowded with people,” Angelica finished, feeling that would make her feel safer.

“Works for me!” he said enthusiastically.

“And Marc, The magazine will take care of the cost for my room and flight, just keep the receipt. Thank you for doing this – going with me and making the flight arrangements!”

“Angelica, no, thank you for letting me tag along! See you tomorrow!”

Angelica passed the Bistro a block from her townhouse. She looked over at the very spot where she had stood with Michael earlier in the day while they were waiting for his cab. Angelica remembered the firmness of his hand behind her neck as it caressed her. It felt protective and strong. She wondered where he was at that moment. God only knew how much she needed him, she thought. Angelica suspected he was already at his loft in Midtown, Manhattan, getting ready for dinner, and she felt a tingling pinch in her chest.

Angelica pulled up to the curb outside her townhouse and hurried up the steps, as she glanced around nervously at her surroundings. After opening the front door, she immediately went through the kitchen, and into the butler pantry to pour a small glass of single malt Scotch. Taking a single ice cube from the freezer, she dropped it in, hearing the familiar crackling sound as the cold cube met the warm golden brown liquid. Angelica took a couple sips. “Wow, what a day!” she blurted. She set the glass down and went upstairs to pack, in case she had to head straight to the airport after finishing with Dr. Goolrick.

Angelica noticed Michael’s white undershirt, left behind on the upholstered white chair in the corner. She recalled the details of their sensual love-making the night before. How it had started in the chair as he sat down to slip off his shoes. Angelica had slipped off her clothes, then walked over and gently ran her hand through his thick black hair, sliding her hand down and gliding her fingers along the curve of his broad shoulder, watching him shiver slightly. Michael caressed her thigh and pulled her to his lips, kissing her with soft pressure by pushing his lips firmly on her skin along her thigh.

The image of Michael’s warm tongue as it slid up her thigh to meet her moist petals of flesh played through her mind. Angelica put her fingers to her slightly open mouth and felt her warm breath, as she felt another sudden flutter in her stomach. She missed him. Her body began to heat up. Angelica pressed at her lips with her fingers as she remembered Michael’s lips release from the wetness between her thighs as he lifted her up onto the bed.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a car horn outside her window. Angelica hurried over and peered out. Startled back into the present moment by the abrupt noise, she turned her attention to her bag in the corner, letting the image of the evening with Michael fade away.

W
ell over her price range by several million, but Angelica still loved Georgetown. She enjoyed visiting with Gail over lunch and shopping on an occasional Sunday afternoon at the upscale restaurants and boutiques along the cobblestone streets. Gail was like an older sister or even at times like a mother to Angelica. Since Angelica lived far from her mother in Asheville, and had no siblings or immediate family, she considered Gail an ideal substitute.

Gail lived in a two hundred year-old restored white house with black shutters, close to the Potomac River and the O & C Canal. With a passion for gardening, Gail spent most of her free time planting flowers and creating beautiful English inspired landscapes. Gail had created a garden with rows of boxwood’s along mossy cobblestone pathways leading to the fountain in the middle of her backyard, bordered by dark, crisp green hostas… where she and Angelica spent many evenings.

Angelica enjoyed spending time with Gail at her home in Georgetown, especially in the spring and summer when they could relax in the café style furniture with overstuffed cream cushions, under the veranda trellis covered with delicate soft pink roses.

Gail was the perfect host, lighting candles and sitting out tapas as snacks. An elegant and sophisticated woman in her late forties. Gail had undergone a few facelifts and although she looked flawless, it was evident she was slightly older than she would like you to believe.

They had relaxed many evenings into the late hours of the night talking about politics, men, and design… and even on a rare occasion, after too many glasses of wine, Gail would nostalgically speak of her husband who had passed away of a heart attack eleven years prior. However, those conversations about the love of her life were short. Gail was never able to hold the tears back long enough from the deep emotions still lingering under the surface. Angelica remembered how Gail wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, choked up, and abruptly stopped the conversation.

Gail had never remarried and Angelica suspected she never would. After all, she said she was committed to her career, and that was consuming enough to fill the void left by the loss of her best friend and lover.

Angelica pulled up, grabbing her bags she stepped out of her banged up BMW. Gail’s golden retriever was lounging on the perfectly manicured lawn. Theo saw Angelica and wagged his tail in excitement.

“Well, hello there Theo!” Angelica announced.

“Hey you! Look at your car! Whoa!” Gail was wearing gardening gloves, standing beside the flowerbed along the front walkway. She appeared shocked.

“Hey! Yeah, I know… lovely isn’t it? Aw, hey Theo!” Angelica leaned down and patted his head after he had slowly made his way over to her. “How are you, buddy?”

Angelica glanced up. “Theo’s happy to see me!”

“Come on in… I’ll open up some wine!” Gail said, as she took off her gloves and tossed then on her tan and hunter green garden wagon.

Angelica stepped in and passed by Gail smelling the lilac scent of her perfume. Gail looked around outside suspiciously before closing the front door.

Angelica stepped into the foyer between the grand entertaining rooms, with arched openings. The house was enormous. A historical home, it had thirteen-foot ceilings and each room had a wood burning fireplace, maintaining its original architectural details. Extravagant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling in every room, making the home comfortable as well as elegantly decorated. Gail certainly wasn’t cheap and spared no expense overstocking it with furnishing. She had a preference for alabaster lamps – and she had several.

Gail looked over at Angelica and smiled. “You can sleep in your usual room. I just put fresh sheets on the bed for you.”

“How sweet! You didn’t have to go to the trouble, Gail.”

“Don’t be a silly girl! Come, let’s have some wine!” Gail turned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

Angelica left her travel bag by the staircase and followed Gail down the long hall.

Gail’s kitchen was bright and airy with several tall narrow windows to take in the reconstructed replica of the gardens at Colonial Williamsburg’s Governor’s Palace. The house was surrounded with old concrete ornaments, shrubbery and flowers in soft shades of light pink and white.

Gail’s decorating style was no doubt extravagant; she had even installed a large crystal chandelier above the island in the kitchen. Like the rest of the rooms, the kitchen also had a wood burning fireplace.

Fresh flowers were placed throughout, a tradition Gail continued after her husband had died. He was a hopeless romantic. Gail had shared the sweet details with Angelica on many occasions, over wine, telling her once of how he would get up in the mornings and cut fresh bouquets from the rose bushes surrounding the house. When she would come down in the mornings for coffee, the house was filled with the lovely fragrance of roses. He would glance up from his paper and smile at her.

Gail’s husband had been a successful real estate developer and left her everything. Gail clearly didn’t have to work for a living, but she loved being an editor, and proved successful at it over the years. Angelica knew Gail’s career was her way of surviving after her husband’s death.

As Theo slept comfortably on his plush doggy bed in the corner of the kitchen, Gail poured the Syrah.

“Do you think they followed you here? Whoever ‘they’ are.”

“Probably! I don’t want to get you involved, Gail. I shouldn’t have come,” Angelica’s eyes were sincere.

“No worries, it’s too late anyway,” Gail shrugged.

“Well, what are you going to do next?” Gail asked solemnly.

Angelica leaned in over the white marble countertop, lowering her voice. “I’m going to see the aerospace facility in Nevada with Dr. Bishop, an archeologist from the Smithsonian.”

“Why him… How do you know him?” Gail sounded surprised, yet curious.

“He’s the strange voicemail from Elberton – remember?”

Gail stepped back as her mouth fell open. “Is he trustworthy? Is it safe?”

“I hope…” Angelica laughed nervously. “Yes, he appears harmless. Paul Colbeck, the ufology investigator, put him in touch with me.”

Gail stepped back and leaned against her Sub-Zero stainless steel refrigerator, clutching her wine glass. “Well, I’m worried… Damn that Carl for bringing this story to the magazine!” Gail sounded frustrated as she put her wine down and stepped over to the sink.