The Wedding Party by Robyn Carr Page B

gotta pee, huh?”
    â€œOh, Jesus.”
    Maxie laughed loudly, then honked the horn and yelled, “Nice signal, dipshit! So, Pam, shall we say eightish, in the ladies’? I’ll be the one wearing the provocative décolletage.”
    â€œSee you then,” Pam sighed, hanging up quickly. What was it Charlene always said of this private investigator— she got the job done.
    Charlene left the office at six for a dinner meeting, leaving Pam to clear away the remnants of the day and lock up. Pam didn’t mind the task. In fact, she quite liked it. It gave her a sense of completion to be the last one in the office at night, and often the first one to arrive in the morning. And tonight she had time to kill before meeting Maxie. There were still people about in the building, in the law offices—associates, paralegals, clerks, until late at night, sometimes midnight. They were tucked away in offices, cubicles, conference rooms and the centrally located law library.
    After filing some case books back in the office’s central law library, Pam returned to her desk—and found a long-stemmed red rose. She touched it suspiciously and lifted it gingerly. Then she lay it back down on her desk and began to gather her things together. A few days before, she had found a note onher calendar, wishing her a good day. Then there was a scribbled invitation to meet him in the evening for a beer at a quiet little neighborhood sports bar. She had put both in her purse, unwilling to have them found in the trash by even the janitor. He should not be doing things like this, she thought. He had absolutely no guarantee she wouldn’t go to his supervisor and complain, insist he be sent looking for work elsewhere.
    Unless he had seen some kind of sparkle in her eyes that suggested he was on safe ground. She’d have to check that, make sure she offered him no encouragement.
    She went into Charlene’s bathroom, dug around under the sink and found a bud vase. She’d make sure she offered him no encouragement tomorrow, but for now she’d enjoy the rose. Then she thought better of it, returned the vase to its storage place and went back to her desk where she pitched the rose into the trash can.
    But there was something she couldn’t hide even from herself. It felt very nice to be pursued, even if there was no possibility of an eventual relationship. And she knew, even if no one else noticed, that she was dressing differently. She chose the silkier dresses over the wool, opted for the shorter skirts, sheerer blouses, and took pains with her hair and makeup.
    Pam packed her tote and briefcase, slung her raincoat over her arm and headed out the door, snapping off the lights. The dead bolt turned, the office lay still. Ninety seconds later the dead bolt turned back, thelights flashed on and Pam plucked the rose out of the trash can and slipped it delicately into her tote.
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    Romeo’s was an upscale steak house attached to a large downtown hotel. It was frequented by businessmen and women who traveled to Sacramento and those who worked in the downtown area. The bar and restaurant were furnished in dark woods and leathers, a motif that lent itself to wealth, secrecy and warmth.
    Pam didn’t see Maxie so she settled into a chair at the bar not very far from the hallway to the rest rooms. She decided a glass of wine while she waited wouldn’t kill her. A glance at her watch told her she had at least twenty minutes, and the place was not crowded. There were a couple of women across the room engaged in deep conversation, a group of young men on the other side of the bar standing around a high table and a couple snuggling in a booth in the corner.
    â€œWhat can I get you?” the bartender asked.
    â€œJust a glass of Merlot, thanks.”
    He brought it back in moments and she had a five-dollar bill on the bar. “You’re taken care of. The gentleman.” He inclined his head, and