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“Listen. I’ve been debating whether to say something. If it was me, I’d want to know.”
Oh, boy.
“You can never divulge your source on this.” Voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Cut the drama, Harry. Just tell me.”
“Ryan’s flying down there. He’s planning some sort of romanticassignation. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“When?” Mixed emotions having a whale of a time inside me.
“Late Saturday night. I sure as hell wouldn’t want the love of my life popping in unannounced. Roots, nails, clean underwear. It’s high maintenance keeping the merchandise fresh.”
“How does he know I’ll still be here?”
“Don’t you two love birds talk every day?”
“Noteveryday.”
“When he calls tomorrow he’ll probably ask questions all casual-like. Only if you say you’re leaving will he fess up about what he’s planning.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
When we’d disconnected, I tried Ryan.
Got his voice mail.
I hopped online and checked flights from YUL to PLS. There were two nonstops on Air Canada, one landing around three p.m., the other just past midnight.
Agitated, I considered alternatives.
I could stay in the condo. Write my report on Palke and Bonner. Knock that out before the assignation.
I could have a nice lunch by the pool. Book a mani-pedi. I don’t dye my hair, so my roots were good. Why not? I deserved a break now that my part in the case was finished.
But that’s not how my brain rolls.
When stressed, I must either exercise or work.
I could run on the beach. Swim. Work out. I thought the complex had a gym.
I yanked my hair into a loose pony. Pulled on jeans and a tee. Went to the kitchen to brew coffee.
I could walk to Graceway Gourmet. Buy fish to cook for dinner. Pick up frozen yogurt at Turkberry.
Even as I considered options, my dreamtime visitors kept demanding attention. Galloway. Palke. Bonner.
Given the light show taking place in my head, I doubted I’d be able to concentrate on a report. Still, I opened the living room’s glass doors and sat down at the dining room table.
Sipped the coffee. Shockingly, it wasn’t awful.
I booted my Mac Air. Created a blank document. Stared at the screen.
Save for the steadythrumof the distant surf, the silence in the condo was so loud it shrieked.
Unbidden, my fingers typed a single word.Jackshit.
Screw it.
