First Friday, page 10
Maybe if she had a temperament more like Carla’s, she thought, glancing across the room again, she could handle the unexpected ups and downs of a tenuous arrangement. Now, there was someone who took advantage of being free to do as she pleased.
Although this arrangement with Dean had been workable for her for a while, Agatha had to admit to herself that in the long run it wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t sustainable. And now here she was questioning the moral integrity of the person she needed to trust, in order for it to work at all.
She took another sip of her tea and grumbled to herself in frustration. She didn’t want to give up what she had with Dean. She cared about him. Loved him if she was honest. But maybe it was time to acknowledge that she deserved someone who really wanted to be with her, someone she could trust. Someone who didn’t care that she was a single mother, who took an interest in her full, adult life, not just in intermittent social rendezvous when it was convenient to his schedule.
Agatha wasn’t used to questioning her worth. It upset her that the arrangement they had made her do so. And although it could almost be considered funny on one level, she was genuinely upset by what Dean had just revealed. If you were agreeing to something like an open relationship, you wanted to be able to trust the judgement of the other party.
She had learned by now, though, that it was no good going around being disgruntled with Dean. He’d been upfront about what he wanted from the beginning. It was just the way it was. Well, screw that, she thought, setting down her mug a bit too roughly, the ceramic clanking on the tabletop, the liquid splashing ominously.
She steadied herself and took a deep breath to clear her head. There was no point in getting worked up over things. Let it go. This would soon fizzle out, she guessed. They weren’t compatible in the long run. Dean was deplorably human. It made her sad.
She looked up and saw his sturdy figure returning to the table. And there she went, falling back into the conflicted feelings of being grateful to be spending time with him despite the compromise. Damn it. Why did she like him so much and feel so at ease with him when it was so complicated?
He slid into the booth next to her, oblivious to her inner turmoil.
“What’re thinking about?” he asked, smiling coyly again, as if he hadn’t divulged anything unusual at all five minutes earlier.
She shook her head, smiling sadly. You don’t want to know, she thought.
He looked at her with mild curiosity.
“Nothing,” she said. “You tell me what you want to about the situation, okay? I’ll try not to judge. Do you want another cup of coffee or are you ready to go?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I’m in no hurry. I like this place,” he said, scooting his chair a little closer to her and putting a hand on her knee.
“Okay.” She emptied her cup of tea and set it carefully back down on the table this time, pushing it away from her.
“Did I spook you with my story?” he asked with mild concern.
“I don’t know, I’m just in a funky mood,” she answered. “And I have to head to work in a few minutes.”
“Look, it’s not such a big deal. I just thought I could talk with you about how I felt conflicted about it. But you know what? You need to take care of yourself in addition to all your clients, and your son, and your friends. Don’t worry about it at all.” He leaned in and kissed her neck, and she felt herself softening a little at his touch.
“I shouldn’t have told you anything about it. It’s shady, I know. I’m sorry I upset you. But I did promise not to keep secrets from you. And I needed to confide to someone,” he admitted. “Let it settle in and tell me what you think I should do later. I don’t know what else to say about it, I just needed to get it off my chest.”
“Look, I think I need to go,” she said, moving as if to get up. “I’m going to head to my office.”
“Okay,” he said. “Sure, do what you need.”
She put her hand on top of his.
“I’ll talk with you soon.”
“Okay,” he said.
He stood up with her.
“You want me to walk you out? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No, I’m fine. Enjoy another cuppa. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said.
“Okay, take care of yourself.” He kissed her on the cheek. “But remember, I’m heading out of town tomorrow for a couple of days.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’ll see you when you’re back then.”
“If I make it back into town in time on Friday I’ll swing by your big event.”
“Sounds good.”
She turned around and walked out the door. She didn’t even notice Carla watching their interaction from across the room, or the moment that Carla walked over to talk to Dean, to keep him company in her absence.
Chapter 23
Agatha approached the front door to apartment B of the old Victorian townhouse and knocked. Barbara lived in the heart of town, just blocks away from both Blaze and Greenway, where she worked. The door opened, and the smell of Chinese stir fry wafted past her.
“Hi! Come on in,” said Barbara, ushering Agatha inside.
The narrow hallway opened into a spacious living room adjacent to a large kitchen with a gas stove that was really just one continuous room whose floors went from wood panels to tile. The walls were a pale yellow and decorated with several strikingly colorful abstract paintings.
“Welcome to my little place. Have a look around. Most of my best paintings are hung up on the walls in here but I have a couple more I’ll bring out from the bedroom that you can take a look at. I’m totally open to contributing whatever you like best for the exhibit.”
Agatha nodded and approached one of the paintings that hung on the wall. She liked Barbara’s approach. It was all about the colors and texture, not so much the shape, which she found interesting because the medium of clay that she worked with was so much about shape. In Barbara’s paintings the colors just blended into each other without any real form. It created a feel more than an image.
There was an easel in the far corner that faced the wall, which Agatha approached, leaning in to see what work might be in progress. She was surprised to see it contained a sketch of someone that she was certain she recognized.
Wild black curls outlined a profile that sported a smug and condescending expression, almost a sneer. The center of the piece and its focus had not yet been painted, but the background was all reds fading into black, and the face was almost scribbled over, sketched with a sort of vehemence.
She backed away and turned toward a painting on the wall as Barbara returned carrying two more canvases of vibrant acrylic colors splashing into each other.
“Here are a few more. Tell me what you think. Be honest.”
Agatha moved slowly from painting to painting, considering which would best compliment the pieces that were already going to be exhibited, which would include several of her own clay pieces, as well as works by two of her more advanced students and a couple of landscape paintings by another former student.
“I really like your use of color. And the texture is so rich.”
Barbara smiled, “Thanks, “I try.”
“I like these two,” Agatha determined, pointing at a pair that hung next to each other on one wall and complimented each other without being clearly related.
“Okay, yeah, those two work well together. I’m so happy you’re willing to include something of mine. Thank you!”
“Happy to. We needed a little more for the walls. These will be the perfect addition to round everything out.”
“I’m so glad. When do I need to get them to you?”
“I can take them now, or if you could drop them by on Thursday morning at the latest, then I’ll have time to organize all the pieces and hang them in the best possible place. We’re closing the clinic early on Friday and we open at 2p.m. for the public event. We plan to make it mostly a late afternoon thing rather than going too far into the evening. And then you can pick the pieces up again the following day if that works, unless you list them to sell, and they do.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll give that a try! Let me think about what to list them for and I’ll wrap them and bring them your way tomorrow or Thursday. Thank you so much. So, these two?” Barbara gestured towards the paintings Agatha had indicated.
“Yes, perfect.”
Agatha was tempted to ask about the sketch in the corner but didn’t think it would be right to draw attention to it somehow.
“Okay, I’ll see you in class. Thanks for having me by,” said Agatha.
“Oh, thank you. Yes, I’ll see you soon. I’m enjoying your class by the way. But those platonic solids are a doozy, aren’t they?” she laughed.
“They are,” Agatha said with a smile, “but that’s kind of the point.”
Chapter 24
Friday, May 1, 2015
Carla put a thin layer of rose cream on her hands and tousled her hair, appraising herself in the mirror. She wore a black, short-sleeved silk blouse with well-fitted white jeans and black heels. A single pearl necklace adorned her neck and large silver hoops hung from her ears. She turned to gain a side view and held in her stomach.
Why she had ever entered into an affair with that uptight, control-freak of an accountant she didn’t know. If only he would leave her alone now. It had been fun, in its way, certainly, but she was so over it. And he just wouldn’t stop calling and harassing her with his pleas to get back together, proclaiming his unending love for her. It was tiresome.
She turned to appraise herself from the other direction. And that frumpy, jealous wife of his, ugh. That was rather uncomfortable, running into her here and there, although Carla thought she put on a good show of not caring what the woman, or anyone else, thought of her.
Some people might call her selfish, but in truth she was just fiercely independent, and maybe a little lonely, she admitted to herself. She might have her flings, but they were never more than that. She was unaccustomed to true companionship and sometimes wondered if she were missing out on something. But she liked her freedom and equated the idea of a steady boyfriend with having to relinquish that. It simply wasn’t for her. She liked to rule the roost without having to acquiesce to anyone else’s needs.
She unscrewed the cap off a small bottle and tossed back a couple of muscle relaxants. Thank goodness for that niece of hers, she thought to herself, swallowing them down with a quick swig of water from the bathroom sink. She was glad Nina was around.
Ugh, the stress lately. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she had complete faith in Stuart’s financial accountability at this point. There hadn’t been the return yet that she believed there should be on her accounts for Blaze, and he had been evasive when she had asked to see the statements. That in itself was concerning when she thought about it, not to mention simply annoying. At any rate, she refused to borrow against the other businesses and just didn’t have the time herself to peruse all the receipts and work out all the checks and balances. That’s what she paid an accountant for, after all. But it was infuriating and embarrassing not to have paid all her regular employees what they were owed on time.
At least everyone on payroll had been taken care of so far, and she’d instructed Kevin this past week to simply pay the musicians straight from the cash register at the end of the night. She’d seen to that. But the musicians were still waiting on the first month’s payment, and there were a few other outstanding debts that really needed to be taken care of immediately. Particularly Nick, who had several thousand extra coming to him for organizing and supplying the sound system, securing the band, and setting up all the equipment.
It was frustrating, but she supposed she’d better figure out a way to get everyone their dues. It had been almost a month after all, and she was out of excuses. It wasn’t like her to delay paying her bills or her employees, anyway. Maybe she would just take the money off the cash flow that came in for a little while and screw Stuart and his bookkeeping. Problem was, hardly anyone paid in cash these days, except for tips. It was all credit and debit.
But Blaze was packed every night and doing fine. There was really no reason she couldn’t come up with the ten thousand dollars or so that she owed Nick and the others. She would have to insist to Stuart that even if things hadn’t leveled out, she would have to borrow on whatever was coming in and pay them. It was just part of how you did business. What did he know, anyway, with all his number crunching?
Of course, that meant that she would have to reach out and call Stuart. And reaching out to him was the last thing she wanted to do. The fun was over. There were much more interesting possibilities at this time, anyhow.
That Dean, for instance, with those chaps of his. And of course, her ongoing flirtation with her niece’s boyfriend, who she could tell was turned on by her attentions even though he pretended to bristle when Nina was around. She didn’t think Nina was aware that they’d been involved in the past. Well, maybe she should establish some boundaries and lay off that prospect, for Nina’s sake, at least. Some of those musicians were rather fetching, too, she thought with a coy smile to herself.
She couldn’t help it if all these men constantly found her attractive. Or that they acted on it, albeit sometimes against their better judgement. She was just out to have fun and appreciated being appreciated. Life was short, and she meant to make the most of what she had. Besides, she valued her freedom too much to commit to any one person. At least that’s what she told herself whenever she felt a little pang of loneliness for something more than a string of part-time lovers.
She applied her signature bright red lipstick and cast herself one last appraising glance in the mirror, indulgently rubbing her lips together. She was ready to make her appearance at her cute little therapist’s open house. All right, the woman wasn’t little - she was tall and had broad shoulders, but there was something about Agatha that made her endearing, so little was the right description in Carla’s estimation.
She had invited Nina to come along, too, because she wanted to introduce her to Agatha and genuinely hoped the girl would see her. It might help her relax a little. She was so high strung, just like her mother had always been.
Carla may have occasionally entertained designs on her niece’s boyfriend, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care about Nina. Men were for sharing, after all. That was the way men themselves approached women, in Carla’s experience. As if they, women, were commodities to be enjoyed. So why not be the owner and author of her own love life, rather than letting some man stake a claim in it or demand her undivided attention? She never let herself get too attached. She enjoyed who she wanted to enjoy and never allowed herself to feel guilty about it afterwards. The men themselves weren’t worth the fuss.
Part 2
May 2, 2015
Chapter 25
Sergeant Velasquez leaned back in her chair, her feet planted firmly on the ground, shoulders squared under her blue suitcoat. Metal framed sunglasses lay folded next to a clipboard. Her thick black hair was pulled tightly into a long braid, and there was something formidable in her deadpan expression. She studied Agatha as she walked across the small room to the metal, fold out chair and seated herself across the table from her. She waited as Agatha smoothed her skirt and rested her hands in her lap, taking her in with measured eyes.
Agatha looked across the table at Velasquez. She smiled bravely and nodded her readiness to be questioned.
“State your name for the records,” the policewoman said without formality, clicking on a small digital recorder.
“Agatha Maguire.”
“How long have you known the deceased?” Sergeant Velasquez questioned.
Agatha started at the choice of words, “I’ve known Carla for about a month,” she responded, wanting to name her. She was still reeling from the shock of what had happened the previous afternoon. It didn’t seem at all real.
“I understand she was your client. How often had she come to see you in that capacity?”
“She came to see me a total of three times in the past month as a client.”
“And otherwise? How well did you know her?” Velasquez straightened the clipboard and pen, moving it closer to her without taking her eyes off Agatha.
“Not well at all, really. But she made an impression, you know? I’ve been to her new restaurant two or three times and have run into her around town, but that’s about it other than her coming in to see me.”
“Two, or Three?” Officer Velasquez clarified.
Agatha paused a moment before responding. “Three,” she answered decisively.
“And she came to your clinic’s First Friday event yesterday afternoon,” she stated rather than questioned, her scrutinizing gaze never faltering.
Agatha nodded.
“Was it regular for a new client to attend something like that?”
“Well, I suppose, that’s kind of the idea - to bring in both new and existing clients so that they can learn more about the modalities offered at the clinic and socialize with each other, meet the other practitioners. We combined the event with the exhibition of my artwork. But this was the first time we had ever hosted a First Friday, so I didn’t quite know what to expect.”
Officer Velasquez didn’t comment or respond but continued to fix her unsettling gaze on Agatha, who looked down at her hands again.
“Can you recount Carla’s movements while she was there, to the best of your ability?”
