stab anyone with it, but you sure as hell could clunk somebody on the head. "What are they used for?" she queried, careful to keep her tone casual.
"Darren!" His wife interrupted, waving an accusing finger as she strode into the room. "Do you know how late it is? You'd better get moving, or you'll lose this job."
Did he have a meeting related to his bank business? If so, that would account for his wife's nervousness.
"Thanks for dropping in, Marla," Darren said, escorting her to the door.
Marla didn't see what he was thankful for. She'd brought up painful topics and hadn't come to any conclusions about his possible involvement in Ocean Guard's problems.
"Do me a favor," he whispered, grabbing her elbow. "Don't mention to anyone that you saw me going out tonight."
"Oh?"
He dropped his hand. "I'm supposed to be -- hell, never mind. I'll be seeing you."
_Sure, you will, but where are you going now?_ Outside, she closed the door upon hearing his wife raise her voice.
A neighbor, pulling weeds, gestured her over. "Are they arguing again?"
Marla strolled by. "What do you mean?"
The gray-haired woman stood from her crouched position, a handful of grass in her gloved hand. "An awful lot of yelling and screaming goes on in that house, and it mostly ain't Helen's voice. I worry about her. Are you her friend?"
"We're acquaintances."
"Did she ever tell you where Darren goes every Friday and Saturday night? It's mighty late when he gets home. Helen never accompanies him."
"Sorry, I'm as much in the dark as you are. Have you known them long?"
Taking a rag from her pocket, the woman wiped her brow. "Long enough to realize Darren appears a quiet type when he's spiffed up in his suit, but behind his mild manner roars the heart of a lion. You don't want to get on his wrong side."
----
*Chapter Eight*
Red and blue cushions surrounded tables close to the floor in the Medina restaurant. Marla got the impression she was entering a huge tent as she and David were led to a bench covered in crimson cloth built against the wall. Billowing scarlet drapes and ornate gilded lanterns hung from the ceiling. Illumination was dim, but the lack of lighting appeared less noticeable than the loud volume of exotic music pouring from the speaker system.
Glad she had chosen a comfortable rust-and-black pants outfit, she settled onto the bench, folding her legs under the table. David lowered himself beside her, grunting as his large frame shifted the cushions at their back. His musk cologne drifted into her nostrils, making her glance his way in appreciation. He could have been on the cover of _GQ_ magazine with his navy suit and geometric tie. The sky blue of his shirt enhanced the deep cobalt of his eyes.
Leaning against an embroidered fabric covering the wall in an eggshell, azure, and gold thread design, Marla surveyed their surroundings with interest. "Fascinating place," she commented, observing the decorations. Diners filled other tables, but no one had been served.
"I figured you would appreciate it," David said, his warm glance raking over her. "You seem like a person who savors new experiences."
Marla grinned, enjoying his company. "You're right, I don't like to be stagnant. It's fun to explore, especially when Fort Lauderdale has so much to offer. How long have you lived in the area?" Most people in south Florida came from somewhere else. Five years in residence, and you were considered a native. Originally from New York State, Marla retained a faint memory of icy winters, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.
David flicked a lock of fawn hair off his forehead. Her eyes trailed his movement, noticing the Rolex on his wrist. "I've been in the region for over twenty years, but I grew up in Connecticut."
"Did you go to school here?"
"I went to Boston. Couldn't stand winters, so I came back. I joined a firm for a few years and then struck out on my own. My practice has done really well, and now I finally
"Darren!" His wife interrupted, waving an accusing finger as she strode into the room. "Do you know how late it is? You'd better get moving, or you'll lose this job."
Did he have a meeting related to his bank business? If so, that would account for his wife's nervousness.
"Thanks for dropping in, Marla," Darren said, escorting her to the door.
Marla didn't see what he was thankful for. She'd brought up painful topics and hadn't come to any conclusions about his possible involvement in Ocean Guard's problems.
"Do me a favor," he whispered, grabbing her elbow. "Don't mention to anyone that you saw me going out tonight."
"Oh?"
He dropped his hand. "I'm supposed to be -- hell, never mind. I'll be seeing you."
_Sure, you will, but where are you going now?_ Outside, she closed the door upon hearing his wife raise her voice.
A neighbor, pulling weeds, gestured her over. "Are they arguing again?"
Marla strolled by. "What do you mean?"
The gray-haired woman stood from her crouched position, a handful of grass in her gloved hand. "An awful lot of yelling and screaming goes on in that house, and it mostly ain't Helen's voice. I worry about her. Are you her friend?"
"We're acquaintances."
"Did she ever tell you where Darren goes every Friday and Saturday night? It's mighty late when he gets home. Helen never accompanies him."
"Sorry, I'm as much in the dark as you are. Have you known them long?"
Taking a rag from her pocket, the woman wiped her brow. "Long enough to realize Darren appears a quiet type when he's spiffed up in his suit, but behind his mild manner roars the heart of a lion. You don't want to get on his wrong side."
----
*Chapter Eight*
Red and blue cushions surrounded tables close to the floor in the Medina restaurant. Marla got the impression she was entering a huge tent as she and David were led to a bench covered in crimson cloth built against the wall. Billowing scarlet drapes and ornate gilded lanterns hung from the ceiling. Illumination was dim, but the lack of lighting appeared less noticeable than the loud volume of exotic music pouring from the speaker system.
Glad she had chosen a comfortable rust-and-black pants outfit, she settled onto the bench, folding her legs under the table. David lowered himself beside her, grunting as his large frame shifted the cushions at their back. His musk cologne drifted into her nostrils, making her glance his way in appreciation. He could have been on the cover of _GQ_ magazine with his navy suit and geometric tie. The sky blue of his shirt enhanced the deep cobalt of his eyes.
Leaning against an embroidered fabric covering the wall in an eggshell, azure, and gold thread design, Marla surveyed their surroundings with interest. "Fascinating place," she commented, observing the decorations. Diners filled other tables, but no one had been served.
"I figured you would appreciate it," David said, his warm glance raking over her. "You seem like a person who savors new experiences."
Marla grinned, enjoying his company. "You're right, I don't like to be stagnant. It's fun to explore, especially when Fort Lauderdale has so much to offer. How long have you lived in the area?" Most people in south Florida came from somewhere else. Five years in residence, and you were considered a native. Originally from New York State, Marla retained a faint memory of icy winters, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.
David flicked a lock of fawn hair off his forehead. Her eyes trailed his movement, noticing the Rolex on his wrist. "I've been in the region for over twenty years, but I grew up in Connecticut."
"Did you go to school here?"
"I went to Boston. Couldn't stand winters, so I came back. I joined a firm for a few years and then struck out on my own. My practice has done really well, and now I finally
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