“Well ma’am,” he said as though I was seventy-three years old. “This isn’t a typical studio. Harold, the owner, is a world champion kickboxer. He is the main instructor and he trains fighters, not…uh…well, housewives. There are group sessions and private sessions. Before you start, Harold has to run you through some…uh…tests. I’m not trying to discourage you, ma’am, just want you to know what you’re in for.” He handed me some information and I left.
Learning to fight may prove useful given my current situation. Right then the only developed defense I had was running.
“Well?” Susan asked.
“It’s pretty much an extreme fighting studio. Not what I had originally thought. I’d have to have an assessment with the owner first. I want to do it. What’s the worse that could happen? He doesn’t take me as a student?”
“And he breaks a rib or two in the process; your ribs…maybe your nose too? You’re not quite all there are you?” She asked, laughing.
“I’m always up for a challenge. In fact, speaking of challenges…I really appreciate you spending your entire day with me today. You have saved me so much time. What can I do to show my appreciation?”
“You’re already doing it. The more comfortable you become with the things that need to be done and how Emmet likes us to do them, the easier it is for everyone. You already seem comfortable with his personality… and speaking of comfortable,” she added “you seem a bit overqualified for this position.”
“Well I do know a lot about reptiles,” I answered, clearly ignoring where she was trying to take the conversation. “When I was in college one of my roommates was studying to be a zoologist—”
“So you went to college?” She interjected.
That was brilliant. I could see I needed to be more guarded even in light conversation. “Yes, just a community college, but I didn’t graduate.” I lied. “Do you enjoy working for Emmet?”
“I didn’t at first. He was extremely rigid when I first started. He was grieving over the loss of his wife…always unhappy and very negative. Somehow I think he realized it was really hurting his boys and he’s slowly found his heart. He’s still rigid, but he has really done a 180 with his boys. He still seems lonely.” She sighed, “But that will work itself out in time.” Susan didn’t offer any information about the loss of Marie. I decided not to ask.
I helped Susan with dinner, gleaning a few culinary cooking tips in the process. We laughed a lot as she teased me about my domestic ineptness… and threw in a few map-lexia jokes. She ribbed me about not killing anyone when I cooked dinner tomorrow; then helped me plan the meal.
The night’s evening routine was the same as the last. Dinner at 6:00, the boys and Emmet went upstairs by 7:30. The kids took their baths, got ready for bed, had story time, and were in bed by 8:30. I walked by Josh’s room while Emmet was telling them a story. I stood at my door and listened.
“Once upon a time there were two brave warriors. They were smart and strong but not old enough to be soldiers. Their duty was to learn everything they could at school so one day they would serve their kingdom well as soldiers. Although they were young, everyone in the kingdom had a job. The job of the young warriors was to welcome guests to the kingdom and help them feel at home.
“One day a fair maiden arrived at the kingdom. The warriors took her on a tour of the land and ate meals with her. She shared stories of her life and they shared stories as well, but they were careful not to share the secrets the kingdom held. The only one who was ever allowed to share the secrets was the king. Some guests knew the secrets; some never would.”
Emmet took Eli to his room and then went downstairs to the library or his office. I couldn’t quite tell. I picked up my novel and headed to the family room to read. I was laughing when Emmet entered the room. He looked at me curiously.
“The novel…the author has quite a sense of humor.” I smiled. He returned my smile with a stoic look and gestured at the door.
“Romulus time.”
So much for employer/employee bonding.
There was no more conversation but tonight I was infinitely more relaxed. Emmet threw the ball to the dog several dozen times without comment. One last time he threw the ball and then turned to walk inside giving me an “after you” gesture. I went to my room. Emmet returned to his office.
I glanced at the grandfather clock as I made my way upstairs. It was exactly 10:30. Emmet seemed to have an innate internal clock. I rarely saw him glancing at his watch and so far I hadn’t witnessed him appear rushed or behind schedule. I imagined it made him insane to be late or wait on someone who was late. Note to self—always be on time.
8
It was barely 5:30 and I was on my third cup of coffee, impatiently waiting for Sal and Ruiz to show up. I had been waiting twenty-six minutes since I found the letter in the sack of mail I had been ignoring. Finally they arrived. I handed the papers to Sal. He scanned them and passed them to Ruiz.
“Divorce papers, Lawrence?” Ruiz asked.
I could hardly answer. The wild animal inside me was clawing to escape. “Yes.”
“The cops know?”
“No.”
“What now?” Ruiz asked. Sal continued to remain silent. “You still gonna play the loyal husband…worried she’s kidnapped…desperate to find her?”
If I’d had my gun, Ruiz would have been dead for his condescending tone. “What now?” I reiterated. “You find that betraying bitch, that’s what now.”
“We’ll send-”
“You won’t send anyone…you will send everyone!” I roared. There was no dissension from either of them. They understood. “Send men to watch her sisters, old friends, people she knew at the gym, clients—especially those with out-of-state locations, everyone she called from her cell phone for the last year!”
“And her parents?”
“Her parents are dead.” She’ll join them soon enough.
“How should we handle this attorney?” Sal asked waving the divorce papers.
“Theresa O’Connell, watch her. I’ll take care of her after Deborah is found.”
“She may have information…” Sal broke in.
“Then get it—stealth. We don’t want her alerting Deborah. And Sal, Ruiz, I don’t want another Amy Holtz incident. No unnecessary carnage; understood?”
“Understood.” They agreed.
“Bring Deborah back alive. I will deal with her.”
“But—”
“Alive, Sal…no buts.”
Father’s Day was coming up in a week and a half and the boys were working on things at school for their father. They wanted to do something special for him so we talked about our options. My sister used to put together a scrapbook every year for her husband with pictures and artwork from the kids, so I offered that idea. They loved it. I told the boys I would sneak around and take pictures of them with their father. They were excited about the little adventure and we spent the rest of the day taking shots of them with their reptiles and outside playing.
Dinner was uneventful, although I could tell they were just barely tolerant of my cooking. I would have to work on that. They all helped clean up and Emmet took the boys upstairs for their bedtime routine. I stayed downstairs and read the local paper to familiarize