Terri’s own business, Yarmulke Schlemmer, was in deep trouble. The company had been hit with a lawsuit, accused of stealing designs for their doggy yarmulkes.
Terri had a network of friends in San Francisco. However, he’d chosen to pay a weekly rate for the apartment directly above mine. It was dirt cheap in a city of exorbitant rents. There was a good reason for it. The place had no kitchen. As a result, Terri spent the majority of his time downstairs. It worked out well for the both of us. Not only did he help mewith Santou, but my space was cleaner than it would have been otherwise. He also made sure there was always plenty of food in the fridge.
“Hey, chère. How’d it go today?” Santou asked, flashing a carefree smile as I walked into the room.
His vials of Vicodan and Percoset sat on the TV stand beside an empty glass. No wonder he was so relaxed. Jake caught the direction of my stare and scowled, letting me know how he felt about my reaction.
Santou had taken refuge in prescription drugs ever since the accident. At first it had been for physical pain. Now it was a crutch for emotional trauma.
Jake had insisted on getting back to work as soon as possible, anxious to feel normal again. What he hadn’t counted on was being stuck behind a desk doing paperwork. I could always tell when his patience had reached its breaking point; he’d consume more pills and booze than usual. That’s when he’d remind me of Tony Baloney. Santou would bark in frustration and Terri and I would jump, trying to find a way to help. Sympathetic as we were, his problems needed to be dealt with professionally. Though I’d broached the subject, Santou had so far stubbornly resisted.
“It was your average day. I caught some guy poaching butterflies on San Bruno Mountain and decided to flip him into an informant. I figure it’ll prove more worthwhile than writing him up on a violation that will probably get thrown out of court.”
I began to walk past Santou when he grabbed hold of my hand.
“You do know the upside to all this is, don’t you? At least I got transferred to San Francisco so that we can be together.”
There it was—the reason why I loved the man so much.
Jake turned my hand over and pressed his lips to my palm, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. Unbelievable.The man could still make my legs go weak at any given moment. Santou knew it as well and flashed a lascivious smile, basking in his effect on me.
“Dinner is served, children. Come and get it,” Terri called out, breaking the spell.
Terri’s version of cooking was a lot like mine. Tonight we had chicken scallopine takeout.
“Seriously, chère. I want to hear more about what happened this afternoon,” Jake said, as we sat down and began to eat.
The chicken was terrific. Boy, was Santou in for a rude awakening the day that I finally started cooking for him.
“The call that came in this morning? It was from a Stanford University professor. He not only tipped me off about a butterfly poacher, but also mentioned that one of his colleagues is missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?” Santou asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Some guy by the name of Dr. John Harmon went up to Mendocino about two weeks ago on assignment for Fish and Wildlife. He’d been hired to search for an endangered butterfly. That’s the last anyone has heard from him.”
“There could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe he has money problems and decided to lay low for a while,” Jake speculated. “Does he happen to be married?”
I nodded, remembering the information I’d been given.
“Possibly he’s spending time with another woman and doesn’t want his wife to know.”
“Or it could be another man,” Terri interjected.
“If something were wrong, I’m sure the county sheriff would know about it,” Jake added.
“Great. Now you sound just like my boss.”
“Heaven forbid. We wouldn’t want that, what with the way you feel about him,” Santou
Terri had a network of friends in San Francisco. However, he’d chosen to pay a weekly rate for the apartment directly above mine. It was dirt cheap in a city of exorbitant rents. There was a good reason for it. The place had no kitchen. As a result, Terri spent the majority of his time downstairs. It worked out well for the both of us. Not only did he help mewith Santou, but my space was cleaner than it would have been otherwise. He also made sure there was always plenty of food in the fridge.
“Hey, chère. How’d it go today?” Santou asked, flashing a carefree smile as I walked into the room.
His vials of Vicodan and Percoset sat on the TV stand beside an empty glass. No wonder he was so relaxed. Jake caught the direction of my stare and scowled, letting me know how he felt about my reaction.
Santou had taken refuge in prescription drugs ever since the accident. At first it had been for physical pain. Now it was a crutch for emotional trauma.
Jake had insisted on getting back to work as soon as possible, anxious to feel normal again. What he hadn’t counted on was being stuck behind a desk doing paperwork. I could always tell when his patience had reached its breaking point; he’d consume more pills and booze than usual. That’s when he’d remind me of Tony Baloney. Santou would bark in frustration and Terri and I would jump, trying to find a way to help. Sympathetic as we were, his problems needed to be dealt with professionally. Though I’d broached the subject, Santou had so far stubbornly resisted.
“It was your average day. I caught some guy poaching butterflies on San Bruno Mountain and decided to flip him into an informant. I figure it’ll prove more worthwhile than writing him up on a violation that will probably get thrown out of court.”
I began to walk past Santou when he grabbed hold of my hand.
“You do know the upside to all this is, don’t you? At least I got transferred to San Francisco so that we can be together.”
There it was—the reason why I loved the man so much.
Jake turned my hand over and pressed his lips to my palm, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. Unbelievable.The man could still make my legs go weak at any given moment. Santou knew it as well and flashed a lascivious smile, basking in his effect on me.
“Dinner is served, children. Come and get it,” Terri called out, breaking the spell.
Terri’s version of cooking was a lot like mine. Tonight we had chicken scallopine takeout.
“Seriously, chère. I want to hear more about what happened this afternoon,” Jake said, as we sat down and began to eat.
The chicken was terrific. Boy, was Santou in for a rude awakening the day that I finally started cooking for him.
“The call that came in this morning? It was from a Stanford University professor. He not only tipped me off about a butterfly poacher, but also mentioned that one of his colleagues is missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?” Santou asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Some guy by the name of Dr. John Harmon went up to Mendocino about two weeks ago on assignment for Fish and Wildlife. He’d been hired to search for an endangered butterfly. That’s the last anyone has heard from him.”
“There could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe he has money problems and decided to lay low for a while,” Jake speculated. “Does he happen to be married?”
I nodded, remembering the information I’d been given.
“Possibly he’s spending time with another woman and doesn’t want his wife to know.”
“Or it could be another man,” Terri interjected.
“If something were wrong, I’m sure the county sheriff would know about it,” Jake added.
“Great. Now you sound just like my boss.”
“Heaven forbid. We wouldn’t want that, what with the way you feel about him,” Santou
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