Deadline for Lenny Stern, Peter Marabell [sneezy the snowman read aloud .TXT] 📗

“Maybe we ought to vamoose before they do,” AJ said.

“Okay with me, but you said four problems. What’s number four?”

AJ raised her left arm and waved slowly across the expanse of the rotunda. She leaned in and spoke softly.

“You’d spot a bad guy as soon as he came in the room. But what if he’s already sitting in the audience? What if the bad guy is a she?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Worth thinking about. Let’s get out of here.”

“Good idea.”

We left by the front door as people were coming in for the gardening presentation.

“City Park Grill?” I said.

“Not a chance,” AJ said. “It’s my house. Did you walk?”

“Yeah. Your truck here?”

“Across the street. And it’s an SUV, Russo. Would it kill your ass to call it an SUV? Just once?”

“Probably.”

“It’s a damn good thing I love you,” AJ said, laughing … just a little.

She took my hand. We crossed Mitchell Street and climbed aboard her SUV.

“Do you mind riding in my SUV, darling?”

“I’d love a ride in your SUV, darling.”

“The right thing to say.”

AJ started the motor, and off we went to Bay Street. We rode in silence, AJ’s hand finding mine. It was a short trip, and the quiet was both welcome and relaxing. Our workdays provided enough stimulation. We enjoyed sharing the quiet the way we shared so many things.

AJ pulled in the driveway, and we entered the house through the kitchen door.

“I have to get out of these work clothes,” she said. “Wine’s cold. Get the cheese out, too.”

I took two glasses, a bottle of chardonnay and napkins to the living room and placed them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. I put down a plate with crackers and a brick of manchego cheese. I kicked off my shoes, poured wine into the glasses and leaned back.

The soft hum of the air conditioning was a welcome sound in the middle of the heat wave. AJ’s elegant two-story Victorian needed serious repairs when she bought it several years ago. Structural updates, a new roof, the heating and air systems, came first. Then it was onto cosmetic improvements like fresh paint, inside and out. It was a work in progress, but almost complete.

AJ came into the living room wearing a familiar outfit, loose baggy shorts and a man-tailored light blue shirt not quite buttoned up the front.

She sat down and picked up a glass. “A toast.”

“To what?”

“Us, and I have a question.”

“Me, too.”

“You first,” she said, and tapped my glass with hers.

I sipped some wine. “At the Carnegie Library, you were playing private eye.”

AJ glanced at something on the other side of the room.

“So?”

“Seriously,” I said. “You like to help out from time to time, but you were scouting the library, too.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Why?”

“Lenny Stern, that’s why. I have more than a passing interest in his well-being. He’s our best reporter: skilled, experienced, people talk to him. He’s a mentor, a coach to every rookie reporter that comes along.”

I nodded. “And he’s a pretty nice guy.”

“No, he’s not,” AJ said, “he’s crabby, single-minded and annoying when he’s on a story. But I’ve made peace with that. If I need a friend, I’ve got you.”

She leaned in and kissed me.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

AJ took a small chunk of cheese. “Have you told Lenny what he’s in for?”

I laughed. “Tomorrow morning he’ll get the details from Henri and me.”

“Lucky him,” AJ said, shaking her head. “He ain’t gonna like it.”

“We’ll do the old soft-sell,” I said. “Tina Lawson will be there, too.”

“You think she’s in danger?”

“Don’t know, but only three people have seen the documents proving corruption.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Kate Hubbell,” I said, “Lenny’s editor at Gloucester Publishing.”

“Are you and Henri doing your usual routine to protect them?”

I picked up my wine glass. “I thought we came to your house this pleasant evening so you could rip my clothes off without getting kicked out of the City Park Grill?”

“Any minute now,” she said, “answer my question.”

“Yes, the usual routine. Henri got him home safely tonight, will cover him to work in the morning.” I sipped some wine. “That satisfy your curiosity?”

She nodded, smiled and took my glass away.

She swung her leg over and sat on my lap … facing me. “There.”

She leaned in and kissed me, slowly running the tip of her tongue around the edge of my lips.

“That felt good,” I said.

“How about this,” she said, and pressed herself down on my lap, moving her hips … just enough.

I smiled.

She put her arms around my neck, and we kissed, slowly, lingering, our mouths open.

AJ tilted her head back and smiled. I reached up, unbuttoned her blue shirt and pulled it back.

“You forgot a camisole.”

“Didn’t want to slow things down,” she said.

“Nice,” I said, and gently kissed each nipple.

“Ooh, time to move upstairs.”

AJ climbed off my lap, picked up the glasses and went toward the kitchen. I followed and came up behind her at the kitchen counter. I put my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. She freed herself just enough to turn around.

We kissed again.

“Upstairs,” she said.

I opened my eyes and tried to move my legs, but it wasn’t working. Not sure why. I eased my head off the pillow. Oh, that’s why. AJ was pushed in close on top of the covers, and sound asleep.

The sun came through the window blinds, slapping a ladder of light on the opposite wall.

I tried moving again.

“What time is it?” she said.

I lifted my head up just enough to see the clock. “Six-thirty.”

“I’m going to be late for work,” she said.

“Move your legs,” I said, “I’ll make coffee.”

“Okay.”

I slid off the bed, found my clothes here and there, and headed for the kitchen.

I drank coffee and watched a squirrel dance his way along the deck railing outside the kitchen window. The back of AJ’s house overlooked a ravine thick with elms, evergreens and a variety of critters.

“How’s my favorite lover,” AJ said when she breezed into the kitchen. She was bundled up