He stood up, taking the breakfast dishes with him. Concerned that I had insulted him with my lack of enthusiasm, I got up from the table and went over to him as he reached the sink. I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around him. He’s so tall, this put my head somewhere between his shoulder blades. He set the breakfast dishes in the sink and turned around to face me.
“You worry about the damnedest things, Irene. But I’ll call and ask her today. Want to get together for dinner?”
“Sure, but it’s Halloween. Do you get many kids trick-or-treating over here?” Frank lives near the beach, and I hadn’t seen many young families in his neighborhood.
“No, not really — just two or three families with kids on this block. I’m not often home from work in time to give them anything, so Mrs. Fremont usually hands out treats for me.” Mrs. Fremont, his next-door neighbor, was about eighty years old. She had lived in that house for most of those years. Mr. Fremont had gone to his reward long ago, and while she still talked with fondness about their marriage, she seemed quite content with her life alone. She lived simply, but was actually very well-to-do. The ocean air must have been good for her, because you would never have guessed her to be over sixty. She was a real live wire.
“How about coming over to my place after you get off work?” I asked. “I don’t have a Mrs. Fremont, so I’ll be on candy-duty.”
“Okay. I’ll take you out for a late dinner.”
“You’ve got a deal.” I looked at my watch. “You’re going to be late, Frank. Want me to take the stuff over to Mrs. Fremont for you?”
“That would be great.” He walked over to the freezer and pulled out a bag of miniature Snickers.
“Frozen?” I asked.
“It’s the only way I can keep myself from powering down a bag of them myself. It’s been driving me nuts just knowing they’re in the house. They’ll thaw by tonight.”
“Why, Frank Harriman, I never would have thought of you as a man with a sweet tooth.”
He leaned over and kissed me good-bye, saying, “I don’t know why not,” and scrambled out the door.
Thinking about my own need to get to work, I made sure his house was locked up and then gathered my purse and overnight bag. Nabbing the cold bag of Snickers as well, I fumbled my way out of the house, then set the deadbolt. Frank had let me park my old ’71 ragtop Karmann Ghia in the driveway the night before, and as I was stuffing my overnight bag into the trunk, I saw Mrs. Fremont returning from her morning jog.
“Good morning, Irene!” she called. “When are you going to come running with me again?”
I smiled at her, remembering my surprise the first time I heard this proposal. We had gone running together several times since, and I found I didn’t have to make concessions to her pace. “Soon, I hope. I haven’t been able to do much running this week.”
“All that election coverage,” she said knowingly. She spied the bag of Snickers clenched in my right hand. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. “Did Frank leave those for me to hand out tonight?”
“Yes, I was going to come over with them as soon as I got my overnight bag put away.” For some reason, I felt myself blush.
She laughed. “My dear, I hope you don’t worry about my judging your relationship with Frank. You’ve been very good for him. Couldn’t stand the last one — that was years ago. It’s about time that man had a woman in his life again. And as for your spending the night with him — don’t forget, I was a teenager at the height of the Roaring Twenties. We could teach you kids a thing or two.”
When you’re pushing forty, it’s always nice to be called a kid.
“Well, Mrs. Fremont, I’m sure you could,” I said, handing the bag of candy over to her. “And I know you don’t judge me. I guess I’m fretting over an idea Frank has — he wants me to meet his mother at the family Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Oh, and you’re afraid if his mother doesn’t like you, that will be that?”
I thought about her question. “I guess so. That, and the fact that I’m not sure what Frank means by bringing me home to his mother.”
She gave me a kind look. “Well, Irene, you know I’m not into this role of being some old lady who imparts her wisdom to the younger generations at the drop of a hat. But let me ask you this — do you and Frank love each other?”
I turned crimson, but answered, “Yes.”
“Well then, don’t worry about what Frank means by this invitation. Enjoy Thanksgiving — you’ve got everything you need in life, with or without his mother’s approval. Frank is no fool, Irene.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Fremont.”
“Go on to work. I’ve got to get going myself — I’ve got to carve a jack-o-lantern. Happy Halloween!”
“Same to you,” I said, getting into the car and waving as I drove off. As I made my way down the streets of Las Piernas, I was already turning my thoughts to being with Frank again. I was looking forward to sharing a pleasant evening together.
I was being optimistic.
As it turned out, that Halloween, someone was up to some very cruel tricks indeed.
2
THE WRIGLEY BUILDING, which houses the
As I entered the building, I was greeted by Geoff, the security man, who was rumored to have been working in
