The Million Dollar Detective (3) little more privacy for our 'negotiations.' But you must clearly understand I don't approve of rushing into relationships. I think before we go beyond looking, there should be some . . . substance to the relationship, at least a chance for . . . well, love." "Bart!" she said with surprise, or mock surprise. "Are you a romantic and a gentleman? What a rarity." "Go ahead, laugh. I know people call me corny, or stodgy. But I can't help it. It's my nature." "I'm sorry, Bart. I meant no offense. In fact, I think it's sweet. Refreshing. It relieves the pressure somewhat to know I could go with you in complete safety. Assuming you're trustworthy, of course." "I assure you, I'm very trustworthy. Of course, the paradox is you would have to trust me already to believe that." They smiled at the irony. Meredith said, "I could accept Sheila's recommendation. She vouched for you enthusiastically. But then, she has three ex-husbands, which argues against her judgment." She looked him in the eye again. Both their expressions turned serious. "I believe I could trust you," Meredith said. This time Meredith broke the eye contact first. In a lighter voice, she said, "Maybe I should feel insulted that you can resist my wiles. You are implying that you can fend off my attempts to seduce you, are you not?" "No," Bart said. "N-no," he said again, not sounding as sure. After a pause he said, more decisively, "No," which made Meredith silently laugh at him again. While he enjoyed her shaking and jiggling anatomy, he explained, "I think I could resist the other women here. But you? You are something else. You could severely test me." He went on more earnestly, "I'm asking you to respect my position and, please, don't seduce me." She stopped laughing and looked at him, a look almost of amazement. She pursed her lips and looked away again, thinking. After a few moments, she said, as if musing to herself, "I know I should just say, 'Yes, of course,' but could I do so honestly? You are so very yummy I might have difficulty keeping my hands off you." Here she gave him a Mona Lisa smile. Serious again, she said, "But because you said, 'please,' I will promise to try. Will that suffice?" Bart let out a slow breath. "You are challenging on a number of levels," he said. He nodded his head sharply, sat up straight, and said formally, "Ms. Adler, would you care to take a tour of my home? I'm sure we can find attractions you would find interesting." She replied in kind, "Mr. Manning, I should be delighted. When would you like to go?" He leaned forward as if to leave immediately, then remembered something. "Oh, no, I've got a little business to attend to. Real business this time. I'm afraid the mystery of you, and Sheila's desire to fix us up weren't the only reasons I agreed to come. There's somebody here I need to talk to." "That's just as well," Meredith said. "I didn't want to leave right away. I've scarcely had a chance to enjoy the party. And none of these flirtatious young men has brought me any food yet. Shall we wait for a bit?" "Yes, let's. What kind of food would you like?" "You don't have to do that. Go conduct your business. I'm sure Jay would love to bring me a plate of chilled shrimp." "Now, wait," Bart complained, "are you planning on flirting with other men behind my back while I'm off to work?" "Yes, indeed," she said primly. "You don't mind, do you?" He opened his mouth and blinked twice, which she found quite amusing. But he closed his mouth and shook his head before saying, "You know, I don't think I do mind." Meredith cheered inside. This Bart fellow was confident and smart, as well as delicious to look at. Her fingers itched to run through that patch of curly black chest hair. She couldn't understand why the other men here thought it fashionable to dispense with one of their manliest features. "Thank you, Bartholomew," she said. She noted he winced at the use of his full name or perhaps the unintentional rhyme, and marked it as something with which she could tease him later. "I promise I won't go home with any of them. All right?" He laughed, a deep, warm chuckle, and said, "That suits." He made as if to get up again, but instead leaned in closer to her and in a low, conspiratorial voice murmured, "You know, you could help me with this. There are actually two people here I'm interested in business-wise. Sitting behind me, catching some shade is a pale young man named Eddie Susmund, who--" Meredith interrupted with, "He could hardly be paler than you." "Yes, he can," Bart insisted. "He's very blond and blue-eyed. I," he paused for dramatic effect, "have at least twelve freckles. Anyway, Eddie did, well, something naughty, and I have to spank him for it. He also has a girlfriend here, Teresa Menendez. She's the exotic beauty sitting almost directly across the pool from you." "Wait. They're boyfriend-girlfriend, but not sitting together?" Bart was leaning in close enough now, she could catch the scent of his cologne, or natural pheromones, or whatever it was--a scent she instinctively liked. An encouraging sign. "Exactly. Suspicious, isn't it?" he said. "We can't prove it, but we suspect she might be the driving force behind Eddie's naughty behavior. He doesn't seem like he has enough initiative to try it on his own. And then her father is--well, that's not important right now. Could you keep an eye on her? You could maybe warn me if she comes up to stab me in the back. Okay?" "Ooh, sounds mysterious." She had to admit it did sound exciting. "I suppose you can't reveal any more details? No, your client doubtless requires discretion." He nodded. "Do you have any code phrases you want me to shout if she comes after you?" There was something about Bart that just demanded she tease him. "Sure. How about 'Bart, look out!'" he teased back. She smiled, thought, Good for you, and put her sunglasses back on. "Ready when you are, double-oh-seven," she said. Now he did stand up, smiled his gratitude, and walked unhurriedly toward the pale blond man who must be Eddie. Even from the back, she thought Bart looked yummy. Muscles, muscles, everywhere. She noted the freckles he mentioned sprinkled across the back of his shoulders. Meredith hid her eyes behind her dark glasses so she could secretly watch all the players. As Bart approached, Eddie stiffened. Bart moved slowly, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. He pulled an empty chair close to Eddie and sat down, then began speaking in a voice too low for Meredith to hear. As Eddie listened, his eyes grew wilder, almost frantic. He leaned forward in his seat and tried to look past Bart to Teresa. Meredith realized Bart had deliberately placed himself to block their line of sight. Clever man! Teresa did not look toward Eddie and Bart. She appeared indifferent to anything going on around her. But perhaps behind her dark glasses she kept watch out of the corner of her eyes, in the same way Meredith did. Jay came back over. "Hi, Meri. Bart through with his business? I hope you're not in any trouble," he sniggered. "No, Jay, I'm a complete innocent," she said. His presence might provide additional cover. Everything was working out splendidly. Just then, Eddie sprang up, with his hands in fists, to stand threateningly over Bart. Uh, oh, Meredith thought, perhaps things are not so splendid. Bart put his hands up in a placating gesture, and slowly stood up himself. He towered over Eddie. Half a head taller, considerably broader, much more muscular, and with that patch of curly chest hair, he looked like a man next to a little boy. Bart held his hands open in a peaceful looking gesture, completely unworried. Bart moved enough while he spoke to make his muscles ripple. Eddie was clearly intimidated. With Bart's size, dark eyes, and arching brows, Meredith expected he could look quite scary if he wanted to. Yet surprisingly, he appeared sympathetic, as if sorry for Eddie. Meredith imagined him saying, "Now, son, you know you did wrong, and I have to punish you. I'm sorry, but the best thing is to take it like a grown-up, and don't ever do anything like this again." Eddie tried once more to peek at Teresa. His imploring look shouted, "Help me! What should I do?" But Teresa still stared fixedly in another direction. Meredith was now convinced that Teresa was watching the Bart and Eddie show and only pretending not to. All the while, Jay prattled on, and told her little jokes. With no more than ten percent of her mind, she laughed and said enough to keep Jay going. She valued the camouflage, but refused to devote any more resources to him while the pantomime opera unfolded. Suddenly Eddie slumped into his chair. All the strength whooshed out of him. He sat there limp, lifeless, hopeless, totally despondent. Teresa immediately stood, gathered her things and walked toward the house. This presented Meredith with a dilemma. She had agreed to keep an eye on Teresa. Did that include shadowing her if she left the vicinity? The way Teresa swept up her belongings made Meredith suspect she intended to leave the party. As she passed by, she gazed in Meredith's direction for a few moments. Was she wise to Meredith's spying? Was she suspicious of the attention Meredith had received from Bart? Meredith pretended to focus more on Jay's banter. She even slapped him playfully on the arm. As Teresa disappeared into the house, Meredith looked over to Bart. He was still talking earnestly with Eddie. No guidance there. Meredith made a quick decision. "Jay, I need to visit the powder room." Chapter Five Jay said, "Oh! Okay. Can I walk with you?" "Yes, that would be lovely," Meredith said. Inside, caterers and guests kept up a steady traffic through the center of the house. Teresa was not there. Meredith quickly started up the grand stairs. "There's a bathroom right here." Jay pointed to a restroom on the main floor. "I want to use one of the upstairs ones," Meredith explained. When they reached the top, she saw motion down the hall. As she had surmised, Teresa was heading for the women's changing room before heading out. Meredith picked one of the nearby bathrooms, and said sweetly to Jay, "You'll wait by the door for me?" He assented, she went in, turned the water on, and played with her hair while counting off the minutes. How long should she wait? She didn't want to come out too early. If she came out late, she could ask Jay which way Teresa had gone. Surely Jay would notice a woman as attractive as Teresa. She had counted off three minutes, and could hardly stand the suspense anymore, when she heard Jay's voice, muffled by the door. "Hi, Teresa. Leaving so soon?" She didn't hear a reply, but pressing her ear to the door, she soon heard footsteps going down the stairs. She hurried out in time to see a fully dressed Teresa outside the open front door snapping her fingers impatiently for a valet. Meredith watched over the railing, absent-mindedly chatting with Jay, until Teresa got in her car, a cherry red Jaguar. Startling Jay, Meredith dashed down the stairs in time to memorize the license plate as Teresa peeled out. She would report her departure to Bart, but that was all. She wasn't about to engage in a car chase. Back at poolside, she found Bart waiting, sitting sideways on his lounger, facing her empty one. A plate of chilled shrimp sat on the little table next to him. Meredith couldn't help smiling. Bart smiled back. He said, "I'm sorry to do this again, Jay, . . ." Jay looked back and forth between the two of them, and said unhappily, "Yeah, okay. I get it. Maybe I'll see you later, Meri." Meredith felt bad about leading him on and apologized before he trudged off. "Teresa's flown," Meredith reported. "She got into a red Jaguar and drove away. Do you need the license plate number?" "I already have it," Bart said. He picked up his cell phone from the side table, and called someone he had on speed dial. Meredith began nibbling the shrimp. "Hello," Bart said into the phone, "Paul? Fred? . . . No, I couldn't tell. You sound just like Paul." He covered the microphone and said aside to Meredith, "They're brothers." To the phone he said, "I'm at Sheila's party, already talked to Eddie. It went pretty well. . . . Teresa took off. She'll probably head back to her place. Could you put a tail on her?" He addressed Meredith again. "He's asking Paul to go find her." To the phone again, "What? Oh, yeah, lots of them. All in bikinis." He looked a little sheepish as he said, "Um, well, maybe. There is one." He turned slightly away with the phone now. "I can't talk. Someone's right here. . . . How did you know her name is Meredith? Did Sheila-- . . . No, absolutely not. . . . No, forget it. . . . Maybe she doesn't want to talk to you." Meredith, shaking silently with laughter, held her hand out and beckoned with her fingers. Bart handed over the phone. Meredith said cheerfully, "Hallo, Fred, this is Meredith. . . . Yes, I grew up in the United Kingdom, though I was born here." She shook her head at Bart while listening to Fred. "I mostly studied over there. . . . Law. . . . Yes, I'm afraid so." To Bart: "He seems to have a low opinion of attorneys." To Fred: "Oh, I don't really know, yet, Fred. We've only just met." She relayed to Bart, "Fred wants to know if we have a future." Bart spread his hands noncomittally. To Fred, Meredith said, "Well, we haven't committed to anything yet. Though I have seen him naked." At this, Bart sat up straight, opened his eyes and mouth wide, then slowly looked down at the ground and put both hands on his head. "Oh, no," he muttered. "This can't be happening." Still with his hands on his head, he looked up at Meredith's laughing eyes. "He's not telling Paul, is he?" "No, it sounds as if Paul already left." For a moment, Bart looked hopeful. Meredith quickly dashed that hope. "He's telling someone else, though. Morrie, I think." Bart stood straight up. "No, not Morrie! He'll put it on the internet!" Meredith laughed her musical laugh at him. He sat down, put his hands on his thighs with exaggerated slowness, and did controlled breathing exercises. Meredith said, "Surely it can't be that bad." Bart said, "No, I can always move to a new town and change my name." "They're detectives, are they not?" Meredith reminded him. "Won't they be able to find you anyway?" "Damn," Bart said. "Besides," Meredith added, "they'll tease you for a bit, certainly. But then they'll probably congratulate you. After all, I didn't run screaming when I saw you naked, and I am an attractive woman." "Modest, too, don't forget." The joke sounded perfunctory. He hadn't really committed to it. "I am modest," Meredith insisted, "in moderation." She turned her attention back to the phone. "Yes, I'm here. Hallo, Morrie. . . . Indeed I did. And I was duly impressed. He's a lovely specimen." She winked at Bart. His eyes were growing wide again. Bart hissed, "You're just giving them more ammunition." Apparently, he didn't approve of her attempt to repair the damage. Meredith waved at him dismissively. "No, Morrie, he's too much of a gentleman to ask that." She ran her eyes up and down Bart's body suggestively. Bart's ears flushed red. "Let's say it might prove hard to say no. And might I add, you're not much of a gentleman asking such questions." She laughed a little, and explained to Bart, "He says it's his job to ask embarrassing questions." "He's supposed to embarrass suspects, not me," Bart said. "Okay, here he is," she said, and held the phone out toward Bart. He pulled back as if she were handing him a porcupine. "Oh, come on. Be a man," she said. Ever so reluctantly, Bart took the evil device. "Yes, I'm here, Morrie. Bite me. . . . I'm glad you like her, you pervert. But she hasn't been embarrassing you every moment since you first met. Even when I'm fully clothed she makes me feel naked." Meredith narrowed her eyes. "In point of fact, I have not yet seen you fully clothed," she said. Bart said to the phone, "Okay, I agree. It's not entirely unpleasurable." He snorted a laugh, then said, "Yeah, of course she is. She could melt titanium." He made an exasperated noise and said to Meredith, "Now he's telling me to be a man. Says I should accept a little abuse as the cost of being with a gorgeous woman." "Now I'm gorgeous?" "Like you don't know it. What, Morrie? That's a little premature." To Meredith: "He says I should just propose to you now and get it over with." Back to the phone: "Yeah, Morrie, I'll talk to you guys later. By the way, you're all fired." He closed his phone, set it down on the table, and muttered, "Bastards." Meredith quelled her laughter and said, "I am sorry, Bart. I have enjoyed teasing you, but I did not mean to hurt your feelings. Can you forgive me?" With real sincerity, she added, "Please?" The feeling in that last word gave Bart pause. He could feel his heart melting. "Damn, I'm going to have endless trouble with you, aren't I?" He shrugged and said, "Of course I forgive you. The truth is, I kind of enjoy your teasing." "Good," she said happily. "And if those nasty men torment you too much, you just let me know, and I will heap all the verbal abuse on them that my Oxford Law School education makes possible." Bart smiled. "I think I'd like to see that." She smiled back, a dazzling sight. He fought down the urge to shade his eyes. "So about visiting my house," he said, "I explained my policy against casual sex, but I didn't get to my policy on drug use. Um, I'm against it." Inside, he was praying, Please don’t let her be a drug user. She said, "Sheila mentioned you have strong feelings on that issue. 'Violently opposed' was the way she put it. Might I ask why?" "Besides it being illegal? Well, because of my sister. She nearly died, twice, because of drugs." He could feel his anger rising thinking about it. He flexed his jaw muscles, then went on, "Her lowlife first husband was a user, and got her hooked." "Oh, dear. Overdose?" "No, car accidents. Two times, driving high, he crashed a car with her in it. When she came out of a coma after the second one, she divorced him and got clean. I stayed with her during that process. I had to throw a lot of former friends out of her house, and her life. Idiots kept bringing drugs by. Parties out there, LA, Hollywood, people think of drugs as hors d'oeuvres. There were, well, some incidents. She's settled and safe, now. Her current husband is a great guy. So, anyway, I'm intolerant of drugs. Please say you don't use them." He held his breath waiting for her reply. "You don't think I would risk this brain," she put a finger to her head, "by subjecting it to unregulated chemistry, do you? I'm rather fond of my ability to think clearly. I've never done drugs and I never will." Bart let out a relieved breath. "But," she said, "I do drink wine, one or two glasses, never more, on most days, and I have since I was quite young. My mother is French, you see." "Ah," said Bart, not sure what all that implied. "I have a few bottles of wine back at my place. I'm not a connoisseur, so I really don't know if they're any good. My butler picks them out for me." "You have a butler?" "Yes, a gentleman's gentleman, as British as can be. Whether he knows wines, I'm not sure. So, when did you want to leave?" "Not just yet, please. I'd like to sample a few more delicacies, and enjoy the entertainments. Sheila said synchronized swimmers will be demonstrating their skills." "Yeah, and I think she scheduled fireworks later, too. I'd like to get us out of here before one a.m., though."
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