wept fresh tears. He couldn’t go home without that stupid book. Paul would probably kick his butt clear around the block, and he’d be laughed out of the neighborhood.
But couldn’t fate give him just one tiny break and put him near that apartment when that woman and her dog were both gone somewhere? Damn! How much more could he take?
Chapter Four
A car horn tooted. Linda checked the rearview mirror to see who was behind her. Recognizing her colleague, Guy Cantrell, she pulled over. He parked his car behind hers, got out and came up to her window.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning, Linda. I was heading for the high school when I saw you. Did I call you this morning?”
Linda smiled. Guy was a sweet man, nice-looking with dark hair and blue eyes, and extremely intelligent, but sometimes he reminded her of the proverbial absentminded professor.
“No, were you intending to call me?” she said.
“Oh, I remember now. I started to call and something interrupted my good intentions. What was it?” Guy narrowed his eyes for a second, then shook his head. “Couldn’t have been very important. Anyhow, I was only going to tell you that I needed to start figuring out where each of the fair’s entrants should be placed in the gymnasium. Would you have the time to join me? You have such a good eye for layout, and I really would like some artistic symmetry in this year’s event.”
“If you want artistic symmetry, then that’s what you shall have. I’m on my way home from church, Guy. I need to change clothes, but then I’ll go to the school. Shouldn’t take me more than twenty minutes. Thirty, at most.”
“Thanks, Linda. See you at the gym.”
Linda drove off thinking of her promise to Tag. But she hadn’t planned to go to his place until midafternoon—probably around three—so she could take her time at the school. There’d been so much talk among students and teachers alike about the science fair, that Linda had become quite excited about her part in it. Actually, the upcoming event had her thinking about something similar for art students. Those with a little talent and a lot of hope would benefit greatly from community recognition.
But that would have to wait until next year, although it certainly was food for thought during the summer months ahead.
Driving west on Main Street, Linda felt the heat of the sun and switched on the air conditioner. It wasn’t nearly as hot as it got in inland California, but no one could call it cool in Rumor today. Linda glanced up at the brilliant, blue, cloudless sky. People were worried about the hot, dry conditions, but the area was so lovely to Linda’s eyes that she wondered if they weren’t worried over nothing.
But what about the low water level in Lake Monet? And the yellow, crisp grass? The people who are worried have lived here much longer than I have.
Linda laughed at her one-sided conversation. She’d talked to herself in California, too, because she had spent almost as much time alone during her marriage as she did now.
“Oh, well,” she said under her breath, eluding another trip down memory lane like the one she had taken last night.
But last night had been pretty weird, what with outside noises causing her imagination to run wild. And then there were those thoughts about wanting to be a real woman. Good grief, if she wasn’t real now, what was she? Funny how different things looked under a bright sun.
Linda parked in her assigned space and walked from the carport to the apartment building. This complex was especially attractive because of the huge pine trees on the property. Also, Heck kept the lawn watered and neatly trimmed, which created a pleasing sense of being surrounded by cool greenery.
Halfway between the carport and the building, Linda caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head in that direction and saw only large pines. Either her eyes were playing tricks on her or one of the neighborhood kids was. She smiled and continued on to her front door.
Lurking behind one of those pines, Alfred was close to hyperventilating. Making sure that he stayed concealed by the girth of the tree, he raised his arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn’t been able to get near her apartment because that miserable dog inside had barked louder than a foghorn without stopping for air until Alfred had sidled away. His hope now was that she would take that little yapper for a long walk.
Linda went in and greeted Tippy with a smile and a pat on the head. He ran around in circles for a minute to show how happy he was to see her, then followed her up the stairs and settled down on his rug.
She took off her dress and pulled on pale green slacks and a blouse. She was ready to go in minutes and Tippy followed her back to the first floor, where she took time to check his water dish. She had walked and fed him before church and he didn’t act as if he needed to go outside again, so she refreshed his water, patted his head and said, “So long, slugger. I have to leave again for a while. Keep the bad guys at bay, all right?”
That was what she usually said to her adorable pooch before leaving him alone in the apartment, and she had always considered her request to be rather funny. Tippy wasn’t much bigger than a large cat and she couldn’t imagine his keeping anything at bay. Actually, his ferocity, although he did have a loud bark, would probably earn nothing more than a dirty look from a cat.
Alfred spotted Linda leaving again—without Tippy—and muttered some choice curses under his breath. The trouble with apartment buildings—especially this one—was that the units were too close together. If that woman didn’t have a dog, he would have gotten into her unit on his first try, found the stupid book that Paul wanted so badly and already be back in Los Angeles. Oh, how he wished he were back in Los Angeles!
A groan accompanied Alfred’s burst of self-pity. He was not a violent man. He might despise Linda Fioretti and her dog—and blame them for his misery in this awful place—but he could barely make himself step on spiders. And Paul had made it clear that his ex-wife was not to be harmed in any way. Alfred recalled feeling very hurt that Paul would think it necessary to say such a thing to him.
But he really should not have let it injure his feelings, because Paul and his circle of friends—the exact group that Alfred wanted so much to be an important part of—only knew Al Wallinski as a tough guy. Alfred’s chest expanded a bit at that thought. He liked Paul thinking of him as tough, and when this job in Montana was finally accomplished and Alfred returned to California, Paul would probably praise him to high heaven and invite him to Fioretti’s for a meal with his closest pals.
Daydreaming about future glory was Alfred’s favorite pastime. But it occurred to him that he had better stop wasting time and make a move.
But what move would that be? People were coming and going around the apartment building. Five or six kids in bathing suits had started running through a sprinkler not far from Linda’s front door. And if he dared get near her door, that rotten dog of hers would make so much noise someone would probably call the cops.
Discouraged and hot, Alfred made his way from tree to tree until he reached the huge bank of bushes and shrubs at the back of the lot. Cautiously he crawled in among the leaves and scratchy limbs. When he came to the piece of bare ground that he’d been using off and on to conceal himself and still keep an eye on Linda’s apartment, he lay down and made sure he could see through the dense foliage.
He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but lying in that cool place, with the laughter of children at play and the soothing, repetitious sound of the sprinkler spraying water on grass and small people alike, Alfred’s eyes got heavy. He was snoring in five minutes.
There were three cars and two bicycles parked near the entrance to the high school’s gymnasium. Linda parked her SUV at the end of the line, got out and went into the gym. Spotting Guy at the far end of the room, she started toward him. A youthful male voice stopped her. “Hi, Ms. Fioretti.”
Linda turned to see Michael