Troubleshooters - Into The Night Part 32

"Yeah, he does." Mary Lou sat next to him.

"Then maybe he's not so nice, after all."

"Maybe he's just really lonely." She knew what that was like.

He nodded. "Maybe. Still. A good, honest man knows that he shouldn't have dinner with another man's wife."

"Part of me really wanted to say yes," Mary Lou admitted. "Sam's not going to be home until late tonight and... Do you think I'm awful?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I used to be really pretty," she told him, wanting him to understand. "Men used to ask me to dinner all the time."

Ihbraham looked at her. "Motherhood has taken away mere pretty. It has made you truly beautiful. It has revealed your generous nature."

Mary Lou had to look away from him. Lord, she was actually blus.h.i.+ng. It was the weirdest thing. There was nothing even remotelya"what was that word he'd used with her before?a"salacious in his eyes, and yet she'd never felt so completely overwhelmed before just from gazing back at a man. It was as if he could see inside of her, clear through to her soul.

She wondered what it would feel like to kiss a man with a beard like Ihbraham's. What would it be like to make love to a man with such warm, all-seeing, yet gentle eyes?

Not that that would ever happen.

"Maybe you should go to a meeting tonight instead," he suggested. "Especially if you didn't get to one last night."

"I did," she said. "After lunch, I called Rene. My AA sponsor." Desperate to talk to someone after spending all that time with Bob, she'd actually called Ihbraham first, but he wasn't at home. "Haley and I went over to her placea"she asked us to come out, so we did. We had dinner with her, and then went to a meeting together."

"That's good," he said.

"No, actually it's bad. She wanted me to come over so that she could tell me she's moving to San Francisco next month," Mary Lou told him. "It's too far away for her to be my sponsor anymore. I mean, maybe we could do it with long-distance phone calls, but... that would be pretty expensive. And Rene thinks I need to find someone right here in San Diego. She thinks I'm not ready yet for a long-distance sponsor."

"And what do you think?"

"Well, I guess I think she's right," Mary Lou said. "I'm just... I'm real sad to see her go. I don't have a whole lot of friends. Not since I stopped drinking." She looked at him. "In fact, it's down to you and crazy Don, now. And slimy ol' Bob, who probably has his radar set for pathetic, s.e.x-starved married women who just want someone to want to be with them. I'm not having dinner with him. Not ever. He's no kind of real friend. Unless he seriously wants to be with me. In that case, he's looking pretty good."

Ihbraham just looked at her.

"I'm pathetic," she said. "I'm just completely pathetic. Someone should just kill me now."

"Don't say that."

"Yeah," Mary Lou said. "I know. I didn't mean it. If I wasn't here, who would take care of Haley? Not Sam, that's for d.a.m.n sure." She stood up, brus.h.i.+ng off the seat of her jeans. "I'll let you get back to work. I've got to wake up Haleya"we've got an errand to run. They put a new trunk lid on my car, and it actually locks now, but there was only one key. I figure I better get it copied before I do something stupid and lose it." She paused. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's any place around here that copies keys?"

Ihbraham stood up, too. "There's a gardening center with a hardware section about four miles from here. Near my apartment. I have to go there this afternoon to pick up some gra.s.s seed. If you wish, I can take your keya"copy it for you."

"Would you really?" Hope flared, but then quickly died. No, that wouldn't work. "But then you'd have to come all the way back."

"Are you going to a meeting tonight?" he asked. "We could plan to meet there."

"I guess I am," she said. "Over at the Catholic church."

"Good then," he said. "This way you don't have to wake Haley."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked.

"It will be no trouble, I a.s.sure you. In fact, I'll look forward to seeing you and Haley later."

Mary Lou nodded as she took her set of keys from her pocket and pulled the trunk key off the chain. She would look forward to seeing him, too. Way more than she would've looked forward to dinner with Bob Schwegel.

As he took the key from her, his fingers were warm against her hand. Warm, and very dark brown.

"Oh," she said. "I should give you the money to pay for it. Let me run inside."

He waved her off as he pocketed the key. "You can give it to me later. I'll bring you the receipt. One key won't cost very much."

"Thank you," she told him. "You're a good friend."

Who would have ever thought in a million years that she would become such good friends with a nearly black-skinned Arab man?

Who, for that matter, would have guessed that she could marry the man of her dreamsa"a real-life heroa"and get exactly what she'd always wanted in terms of a home and financial security, and still be dissatisfied?

Life could be pretty d.a.m.n weird.

Chapter 16.

It was 1748 that night before Muldoon found Joan.

Upon his arrival at the Hotel del Coronado, he was escorted up to a s.p.a.cious suite that was, he was told, his room. He was told to please wait here.

Despite the fact that he didn't particularly want or need a room at the hotel since he lived only a few minutes away, it was nice enough. It had a third-story view of the ocean through sliders that led to a balcony.

But with the windows closed, the sound of the cras.h.i.+ng surf was muted.

Ten minutes of waiting in that hushed, thickly carpeted, don't-put-your-feet-on-the-furniture silence was all he could stand, and after calling Joan's cell phone and repeatedly getting pushed over to her voice mail, he opened the door, intending to wander out into the corridor.

A man about his own height and build and dressed in a dark business suit was standing right outside the door. He had an earphone in one ear, the cord disappearing under his jacket collar, and a bulge under his left arm from a shoulder holster. "May I help you, sir?" he asked Muldoon.

He was Secret Servicea"no doubt about it. But was he there to keep the unwanted, potentially dangerous riffraff out?

Or in?

"I need to speak with Joan DaCosta," Muldoon said. "She doesn't seem to be coming to me, so I thought I'd go looking for her. I know she's around here somewhere."

"I'm sorry, sir. You've been asked to stay here, in your room."

"Actually, I haven't been asked anything," Muldoon said, just as pleasantly. "I've only been told." He was running very low on patiencea"particularly after seeing his picture all over CNN and finding out that certain White House staff members were planning his wedding to a woman he'd never even met.

"I'm sorry, sir." The agent sounded anything but sorry. "But I can't let you out into the hall without authorization."

It was absurd. In fact, it was positively ridiculous. Was it possible that this whole thing was Joan's idea of a bad joke?

From down the corridor, possibly even from the next room over, he could hear the unmistakable sound of her laughter.

"Look," he told the agent, trying his best to sound not even remotely p.i.s.sed off, "she's just down that way. I can hear her. I'd like toa""

"I'm sure she'll be here soon then," the agent said. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back into the room and wait for her there. There's a room service menu on the table, sir."

Oh, food made it all better. Right.

As much as he longed to put his fist in this guy's smug face, Muldoon knew that that would be a mistake. If he really wanted to get into a brawl to blow off a little steam, he could do it easily enough later, in the parking lot of the Ladybug with Sam and Cosmo.

For the first time in a long time, he actually itched to get into a fight.

Not a good sign.

Maybe if he could talk to Joan and find out what in G.o.d's name was going on, everything would make sense and he'd start to feel better.

He closed the door on Smugly and, looking across at that still brightly sunlit balcony, he bolted the locks from the inside. Maybe he couldn't go out into the hall, but now Smugly couldn't come in, either.

The slider to the balcony unlocked easily. He slid the door open and was. .h.i.t by a breezy gust of fresh air that made the filmy white curtains billow. He brushed past them and stepped outside.

And, sure enough, a child could get from his balcony to the next room's.

Well, okay, an athletic child.

Of course, timing was essential, considering that both balconies were in direct view of the windows of the function room where the admiral's party was due to start in just a short time.

In fact, Muldoon could see what had to be several more Secret Service agents through those windows. He could pick them out just from the way they stood.

He waited until he could see the backs of their heads and then quickly swung himself up onto the rail and...

Then there he was, standing nonchalantly on his immediate neighbor's balcony, as if he'd come out to look at the ocean view. He wasn't even breathing hard.

The first of two sliders was closed, the filmy curtain drawn. It was the bedroom, and he moved past it quickly, aware that about five people were in there, one of them sitting on the king-sized bed.

The second slidera"the door leading into the suite's sitting rooma"was open. Muldoon stood there, listening, as he looked inside.

This suite was even bigger than his, and there were at least another half dozen people in various places around the room. The TV was on and tuned to CNN, but the volume was muteda" no doubt because nearly everyone in there was talking on then-cell phone.

Including Joan, who was over by the bedroom door.

He stepped into the room, and no one so much as gave him a second glance.

"I'm sure time will open up in several weeks," Joan was saying into her phone as Muldoon took a seat not far from her on a cushy sofa with a floral pattern. "Yes." Pause. "Yes, I understand the story's hot now, but there are only twenty-four hours in a day. I'm afraid even you can'ta"" Pause. "And we appreciate it. We do. And I'm sure you can appreciate Brooke's desire not to schedule television appearances while Lieutenant Muldoon is stateside."

Well, that pretty much took care of any of his lingering doubts. He'd been hoping that Joan had had nothing whatsoever to do with the news stories about his so-called relations.h.i.+p with Brooke Bryant. Yet here she was, spinning it like a pro, making it sound as if he were doing far more with Brooke than merely escorting her to one single party.

"Thank you," she said into the telephone. "I will definitely get back to you before the end of the day, but please don't be offended if..." Pause. "That's right. Thank you. Thank you." She hung up her phone with a snap. "Jee-zus!" She leaned farther into the bedroom. "Myra. We don't want to do Larry King Live tomorrow night, do we?"

"No!" came a shout back.

Joan had her cell phone open and was dialing again. "Yeah, Meredith. Joan. I need a huge-large. In about an hour, call Matt over at Larry King and tell him we can't do tomorrow's show. Apologize, send flowers, make sure they know we love them, and that if Brooke were doing any TV appearances, they'd be high on our list." Pause. "Bad," she said. "And, G.o.d, I still haven't talked to Mikea"we've been playing telephone tag all afternoon." Pause. "Wouldn't you be mad? He's here at the hotel, right next door, in fact. I just can't bring myself to go over there." Pause. Laughter. "Yeah. Avoid. Always a good policy. Except I'm going to have to talk to him sooner or later. Right. Later, babe."

Snap.

There was a counter separating a kitchen area from the rest of the room, and Joan put her cell phone down on it and climbed up on one of the stools. "Give me a scotch and soda on the rocksa"make it a double," she said to one of the men who was in the kitchen.

"Sorry, this is for Brooke," he said. "You have to wait until you're downstairs for yours."

"I have to wait until tonight is over," she countered. She pointed to the drink. "That's watered down, right? She's already had a few."

He took a sip, testing. "If it's too watery, she'll come out here and add more scotch herself. We definitely don't want that."

"Good point. Grab me a coffee mug while you're back there, will you, Dave?"

"Just what you needa"more caffeine," he said, but he took a mug down from the cabinet and slid it along the counter to her.

"Thanks." There was a coffee machine set up right there, the pot half full, and she poured herself a cup. "So she's agreed to go downstairs?"

Dave nodded as she took a sip. "Yeah. She'll do it. But she's pretty upset. Do you trust your guy? Should we let him into the loop?"

"I haven't talked to him yet." Joan put the mug and then her head down on the counter. "Oh, G.o.d. I've been putting it off. As of right now, Myra says no. The fewer people who know the real deal, the better." She lifted her head. "I just wish I had been let in a little sooner."

"Welcome to the White House." The man named Dave carried the drink into the bedroom.

As Muldoon watched, Joan sat there, forehead in hand, dressed to the nines in a black evening gown, staring into her coffee. She looked gorgeous. And exhausted.

He refused to feel badly for her. There was no doubt about it now. She'd used him.

With one finger, she made her cell phone spin on the counter.

Muldoon took out his own phone and dialed her number.

Across the room, Joan's phone shrilled, and she sat up. She opened it up, looked at the number on its screena"hisa"and made a face. "s.h.i.+t."

Not too happy to hear from him, apparently.

She didn't blow him off, though. She braced herself, took a deep breath, exhaled hard, then punched the talk b.u.t.ton and brought the phone to her ear. "Hey, Mike." She managed to sound practically cheerful.

"Hey, Joan. Am I just going to sit here in suspense all night or are you going to bother to explain to me what the h.e.l.l is going on?"

Across the room, her head was in her hands again. "Oh, Mike, I am so sorry. I had no idea it would get out of hand like this. And then that picture of you appeared anda"

"It appeared," he said. "You didn't go searching for it?"