"Hi, baby. It's me. Where've you been lately? Are we still
on for this weekend?"
As he listened to his voice mail, Rico Garcia leaned back
in his tufted leather desk chair and blew out a sigh.
Damn. He and Suzette had a date on Saturday, and he'd
completely forgotten. Talk about a subconscious desire to
cut bait and run.
Not that he'd been stringing her along.
On the day they'd met, he'd made it clear he didn't
commit, and she'd eagerly agreed to his terms. Now, two
months later, she was having second thoughts.
And so was he.
Not about committing, though. About their relationship.
He opened the file drawer on the lower right side of his
desk where he kept it full of candy and reached into an
open bag of Reese's Pieces. He had a stash of goodies in
the glove box of his car, too.
As a kid, he spent the bulk of his allowance on sweets.
But after his step-dad was shot, and the proceeds of the
life insurance policy dwindled, any money Rico could
scavenge went toward rent and utility bills.
He grabbed a handful of the autumn-colored candies, popped
them into his mouth and savored the peanut butter taste.
The first time he'd eaten them was back in the early
eighties, after watching E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial at the
Sunday matinee. And they'd been one of his favorites ever
since.
After listening to the rest of his messages and making the
appropriate return calls, he pulled the Rolodex across his
mahogany desk.
He needed to break things off with Suzette. But he
wouldn't do it on a night she was expecting dinner and a
sleepover. He'd just have to cancel their date. Then, at
the beginning of the week, he'd stop by her house and tell
her she ought to look for someone who wanted the same
things out of life that she did.
As he flipped through the tabs, he found V and looked for
Vio…Vya…
What the hell was the name of the company Suzette worked
for?
As a private investigator, details like that never slipped
his mind. But sometimes, when it came to relationships
with women, his brain didn't work the same way. The
selective-memory thing bothered him a bit, though.
Probably because he prided himself on the ability to
recall trivial details about a case.
There was a real rush when an investigation struck pay
dirt, as most of his did.
Most — but not all of them.
He glanced at the only photograph that sat on his desk, a
dark-metal-framed picture of Frank Stafford standing
beside his 1963 Corvette Stingray — tuxedo-black, with a
split back window and a three-twenty-seven-cubic-inch fuel-
injection engine.
The photo had been taken right after Frank bought the
vintage vehicle. That was a year before his stepfather had
died in a hunting "accident," a case Rico hadn't been able
to solve. One that wouldn't grow cold until his memory of
Frank died.
He glanced out the window, catching a view of the Empire
State Building. It was cloudy and overcast today. Rain,
most likely. He hoped to get out of there before the storm
hit, but that wasn't going to happen. He still had work to
do.
Rico owned and operated a highly successful private
investigative firm. Garcia and Associates was and always
would be his baby, his life. He'd built the elite and
discreet agency to the level where he had a top-notch
office staff and the most skilled and professional private
investigators in the business. He could probably take some
time off — if he wanted to. But he thrived on having the
focus his work provided.
The intercom light flashed, then buzzed.
Beep. "Mr. Garcia?"
"Yes, Margie."
"Your mother is on line three."
"Thanks." Rico let the Rolodex cards slip through his
fingers. He hadn't talked to his mom in weeks and hoped
everything was all right. He worried about her sometimes.
No, make that a lot.
He pressed the lit button on line three and took his
mother's call. "Hey, stranger. What's up?"
"Oh, Rico. You'll never believe what happened." His mom's
voice, while innately cheerful, held an even more upbeat
tone than usual. "I have wonderful news."
"What'd you do? Hit the lottery?"
"No. It's much better than that."
Better than money?
He didn't like the sound of that already. He'd spent the
first twenty years of his life living with and looking
after his sweet, softhearted but gullible mother. And her
"good news" always put his skeptical nature on alert.
She'd better not be talking about another pyramid scheme
she'd been roped into. The last time, he'd had to put some
pressure on the guy who'd preyed on divorcées and widows,
making him give the money back. Then he'd turned the sorry
son of a bitch in to the local police.
His mother had gotten her investment back — that
time. "Listen, I've only got a couple of minutes before my
next appointment, Mom. Why don't you just tell me your
good news?"
"Well, all right. I've met the most wonderful man in the
world. And I've fallen in love."
Oh, for cripes sake. Again?
It's not as though Rico didn't want to see his mom happy,
but he'd been through enough heartbreak with her as it
was. He just wished she'd stop believing that some Romeo
was going to ride into her life and carry her away to a
castle in the sky.
She, more than anyone, ought to know that. "Rico?" she
asked. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah, Mom. I heard you."
"You're not excited?"
Hell no, he wasn't excited.At fifty-two, his mother had
been married four times already. When was she going to put
away those fairy-tale dreams and call it quits?
But damn, he couldn't snap at her like that. She'd
probably start crying. And Lord knew he couldn't handle
her tears.
He leaned back in his chair, leather creaking. "You know I
want to see you happy, Mom. But who is this guy?"
"His name is Daniel Osterhout. He's a dentist. And he's my
soul mate."
A soul mate, huh? Well, that's a term she'd never used
before. Couldn't she just sleep with the guy? Why did she
have to marry every man she was attracted to?
"How long have you known him?"
"Nearly a month."
"That's not very long."
"It seems as though I've known him forever."
Rico sighed.
"Oh, come on, honey," she said softly. "I understand your
skepticism, but Daniel is different. You'll see. And
someday you're going to meet someone special, too."
Rico rolled his eyes heavenward in a God-help-me way. He
loved his mom, he really did. But he wished she wasn't so
trusting. Her heart had been tromped on many times in the
past. And she certainly didn't deserve the pain and
disappointment she continually set herself up for.
Couldn't she be just a little more realistic about
love? "Daniel and I have decided to get married in June,"
she added, a singsong enthusiasm resonating in her
voice. "What do you think?"
Truthfully?
Rico thought it was a joke to have a big hoopla,
especially under the circumstances. Hell, this guy would
be her fifth husband. "When you say wedding, you're
talking about a little ceremony down at the courthouse
with a justice of the peace and a couple of witnesses,
right?"
"Well, actually, Daniel and I would like a church wedding,
an organist, a few close friends and family. That sort of
thing."
As far as Rico was concerned, that sort of thing sounded
way too involved. But what the hell. "I guess there's
nothing wrong with June, as long as you're sure about
this."
"I've never been more sure about anything." She
undoubtedly thought that would make him feel better.
It didn't. "Of course, I may need to borrow a little
money," she added. "The bride is supposed to put on the
wedding, and I might come up a bit short."
They both knew she wouldn't be "borrowing" any money, but
Rico would step up to the plate. He always did. Heck, he'd
never been able to deny his mom anything.
Ever since his father died, it had been just the two of
them — well, other than a progression of stepfathers who
for some reason or another swung in and out of their lives
as if they where traveling through a revolving door. Each
one had offered a lonely mother and child the promise and
hope of a family and then provided them everything but.
He glanced at Frank's picture, picked it up. Okay, so that
one hadn't hurt them on purpose, but his unexpected death
had left them alone and hurting just the same.
"All right," he told his mom. "I'll spring for the wedding
if you'll try and keep it small."
They both knew Rico wasn't a cheapskate. He could well
afford a fancy wingding. But he wasn't into dogand-pony
shows.
"Oh, honey," she said, her voice getting all soft and
mushy. "You're so good to me."
"Yeah? Well, you've been pretty good to me, too." They'd
been through a lot together — more than their share of
pain and struggles. There was a time when they'd both had
to work to keep a roof over their heads, and Rico hadn't
even hit his teen years.
"I love you."