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“My husband’s other mistress, the Hawaiian that you met at Jade Crown.”
“How did you know about the incident at the restaurant? Are you following me?” I asked, getting more and more angry.
She laughed and tossed her long hair behind her shoulder. “Of course not, I have better things to do. But I did hire a private investigator to follow Brent.”
At that moment I pictured her producing shiny black-and-white photos of me giving her husband a blow job to show in court. “Oh, for Chrissakes,” I said.
The waiter returned with the steaming hot tea. “May I have a Bacardi and Coke instead? I need a drink.”
Annoyed, the waiter nodded crisply and removed the beverage.
“I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Davis.” I laughed at the sheer complexity of the situation. “So the note was a joke, then?”
She tilted her head in confusion. “What note?”
“When they left the restaurant, the hostess gave me a really weird note. It was rather threatening.”
She shook her head as she sipped daintily from the teacup. “I certainly didn’t tell her to write it but I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lula used to be my private eye. She dropped the case and refunded my money because she fell in love with Brent.”
“You’ve gotta be joking.”
A painful gaze transformed her beautiful face. “I wish I were.”
“So how did she know I was going to be there with my sister?”
She shrugged. “That, I believe, was chance.”
“I can’t believe this. You hired her to watch Brent and she ended up sleeping with him?”
“That appears to be the situation. I suggest you be careful.”
I drank two huge gulps from the Bacardi and Coke that had appeared in front of me.
“Sounds like we got a real live one here.” I said.
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I appreciate your warning me. I don’t know if I would have done the same in your situation.”
She didn’t answer when I said good-bye.
The streets were slick and cars splashed water as they whizzed by but I didn’t care. A man’s wife just told one of her husband’s mistresses to beware of the other mistress. That meant Lula must be pretty nutty. I clicked along in my heels for about ten blocks before I realized I might be in danger walking the streets, so I hailed a cab.
Saundra was already asleep on the sofa when I got home. I’ve told her a million time not to ruin my leather couch. Was she tired of sharing the bed with me? Well, that was just too bad.
It took me a while to get to sleep and, when I did, I still didn’t rest. It was that right-below-the-surface sleep that might as well not be sleep at all because when you wake up you still feel tired.
Someone was knocking on my door. Frustated and groggy, I glanced toward the clock. Three o’clock in the morning!
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me. Saundra. The doorman just called. Brent wants to come up.”
I thought about that Lula woman and I became suspicious.
