Chapter Eight Insight and Intensity
Chapter Eight
Insight and Intensity
Chief Burton’s phone beeped. It was a text from the dispatcher. He groaned; it was his night off. He read the text:
Sorry to bother you chief. Wanted you to know the garage apartment at Pauline’s was broken into.
Burton responded:
Anybody hurt?
Dispatcher:
No. Might have been kids. But it’s where Kirby used to live.
Burton was flustered. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Instead of typing a text, he called the dispatcher. “Put some crime scene tape up and have the place dusted for prints. Maybe we’ll get lucky and figure out who is doing all the B and E’s in town.”
“You got it, Chief,” the voice replied, and Burton ended the call.
His concern about people’s safety was starting to grow.
What if these incidents continued, and someone got hurt?
He didn’t want to alarm anyone, especially Madison and Lincoln, but he wanted to make them aware and be on their toes.
“I hope this doesn’t ruin the summer for them,” he muttered.
If it wasn’t kids, then they must be amateurs—at least, he hoped.
He checked the time. Just after ten. He decided to send Viggo a text.
He lived close to the Wainwright place. Maybe he could keep an eye out in his neighborhood.
He hit the pause button on the television. The Yankees were playing the Mets, and he didn’t want to miss a swing of the bat. He honestly didn’t care which team won. They were both “local” as far as he was concerned. May the best team win.
He tapped out a quick text to Viggo:
Kirby’s old place was broken into. Apt he rented from Pauline. Nobody hurt, but not liking these “coincidences.” Keep an eye on the neighborhood.
Viggo had left his phone inside on top of his duffel bag and didn’t get the text until much later. Meanwhile, he and Madison sat on the chaise lounge, enjoying their cognac.
Madison decided it might be a good time to tell Viggo about her family. They were both in a relaxed mood, and she hoped Viggo wasn’t annoyed that she hadn’t mentioned it sooner.
“Captain? There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Uh-oh. Is there a problem?” Viggo asked cautiously.
“Not yet. There’s just something I’ve been wanting to share with you. It’s not particularly important now, but it’s part of my past.”
“So you are in witness protection?” Viggo joked.
“No, but there was a time in my life when I wish I was.”
Viggo sat up. Contrary to what Madison just said, this sounded important. “Shoot.”
Madison started. “I have a criminal in my family.”
Viggo didn’t say anything. He simply nodded for her to continue.
“Wainwright isn’t my birth name. It was Taylor at one time.”
Viggo was not about to let on that he already knew about her father.
She might think he was stalking her, but it was actually Chief Burton who gave Viggo the 411.
Burton knew Kirby had a brother named Jackson Taylor.
Burton also knew who Jackson Taylor was.
Unless you were living under a rock, you’d heard about his criminal activity and his trial.
When Burton discovered that the marina was bequeathed to Kirby’s niece and nephew, he wanted to know whom he was going to be dealing with. No harm, no foul. He didn’t blame the siblings in the least for wanting to distance themselves from their father.
“My father was in the financial business. He cheated people out of millions of dollars. He was arrested and sent to jail. He left me, my mother, and brother in the lurch. We knew nothing about his shenanigans. Lincoln and I were attending school while my father was pilfering from his clients.
“When the US marshal showed up at our co-op, my mother emptied most of the safe and stuffed her boots, bra, and every item of clothing she could with her jewelry and some cash.” Madison waited a few moments to let that sink in.
“Sounds harrowing,” Viggo said sympathetically.
“She claims she knew nothing about any of his purloining, but she must have had an inkling. Although he wasn’t around much. She suspected he was having affairs, doing drugs, and heavy drinking, so she created her own bubble.”
“How old were you when this happened?” Viggo had a rough idea, but wasn’t sure.
“I was almost twenty. A junior at FIT. The press was relentless and followed me everywhere. I was developing an exceptionally good design reputation, so I was easy pickings. My brother wasn’t trailed as much.
He kept a low profile. My grandparents thought it would be in my best interest to transfer to Rhode Island School of Design, which wasn’t far from where they lived in Connecticut.
They also encouraged us to change our last name to our mother’s maiden name, hence Wainwright. ”
“I can completely understand. It must have been tough,” Viggo said kindly.
“It was for a while; then I reinvented myself. I seem to have a knack for it.”
Viggo cocked his head and gave her an inquisitive look. “Reinvent yourself?”
“After my first job in Boston, I began a blog about fashion, but mostly fashion faux pas. I called it ‘Where Are You Going in That?’”
Viggo let out a snort. “Funny.”
“It really caught on, and I was offered a job in New York. I didn’t know if I could go back without a whole lot of ghosts haunting me, but Olivia encouraged me.
And she was about to become my sister-in-law and was moving from Boston to the New York area to be with Lincoln.
I decided to take on a persona akin to the character Meryl Streep played in The Devil Wears Prada, Miranda Priestly, which is supposed to be a take on Anna Wintour.
I bleached my hair”—she plucked at the curl around her ear—“and pretended.”
“Pretended to do what?”
“Pretended to be a tough, cool, cookie.”
“And you are not?” Viggo asked with a skeptical tone.
“When it’s called for.”
“So it seems, according to Victor.”
Madison chuckled. “Victor loves to torment me.”
“Obviously, you can hold your own with Victor. And whomever tries to cross you.” Viggo repositioned himself in the chaise to face Madison. “I watched you in action tonight.”
Madison bit her bottom lip. “I hope you didn’t find any of our antics offensive.”
“Not at all. It was very entertaining.” He resumed his prone position on the lounge chair.
The two sat in a comfortable silence while a soft wind glided across the bay. The sounds of a wind chime floated with the breeze.
He was loathe to break the mood, but he had no choice. He cleared his throat.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Rather than the garden?” Madison asked.
“Only when I’m on duty and there are no facilities.”
“You know where it is,” Madison said, smiled, and nodded toward the house.
“I’ll be right back.” Viggo got up and went inside the house.
He noticed the red message light on his phone was blinking and read the text from Burton.
He frowned. Burton was right. This was no coincidence.
His concern for Madison and her family grew.
Since no one knew the logic or motivation, it was difficult to discern who or what might be next.
Granted, the break-ins weren’t on the same level as larceny or a major crime, but it could simply be the beginning.
He thought back to Dennis Farrell’s demise, and the common denominator in the three incidents was Kirby Taylor.
Viggo quickly went to the bathroom and returned to where he had been sitting.
“Madison. I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s been another break-in. Not at the boat house, but the apartment your uncle used to rent. Chief Burton sent me a text.”
Madison furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. If they were looking for the map, they found it. What else could it be?”
“Right now, your guess is as good as mine. But I don’t want to leave you alone. I could be perfectly comfortable crashing right here.” He pointed to the lounge chair.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can have the spare room.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble, but I don’t want you to get into any, either.”
“It’s settled. You shall be my guest. Again. Tonight.” Madison failed to mention they had a security system, but at the moment, it wasn’t as comforting as having Viggo close by.
“Let me call Josh so he can bring Diogo over. If that’s okay.”
“It’s absolutely okay,” Madison replied.
Josh lived between Madison’s and Viggo’s houses. When he got the call from Viggo, he was happy to oblige. Fifteen minutes later, a big dog with floppy ears appeared at the front door.
“Thanks, my man,” Viggo said, and handed Josh some bills.
“Not necessary,” Josh said, as he plucked the two twenties from Viggo’s hand.
“But much appreciated.” Josh was a college student and could always use a little extra cash.
Working at the boat house afforded him a sum that could pay for part of his tuition, but money for entertainment was hard to come by, so he did odd jobs on the side.
Josh peered into the house. “Evening, Ms. Wainwright.”
“Josh, how many times to I have to tell you to call me Madison?” she said from the hallway.
“Okay, Ms. Madison.” He tipped his baseball cap, turned on his heel, and exited.
Viggo gave Diogo a similar greeting that Madison gave to her cats. Lots of mush. The big dog returned the love and then spied Mario and Luigi. The two cats looked on with indifference from their perch on the back of the sofa.
“It seems our children are curious about each other. At least they’re not fighting.” Madison smiled as she watched the handsome captain affectionately pet his pooch and scrunch his ears.
“Diogo is a pussycat, so they should get along,” Viggo joked.
Madison went into the kitchen with Diogo following at her feet.
She filled a ceramic bowl with water and placed it on the floor.
She leaned over and patted the dog. “Sorry I don’t have any treats for you, sweetie.
” Diogo’s tail started thumping. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said the T word.
” She looked up at Viggo, who was leaning against the tall pantry cabinet.
“No worries. I always carry a supply.” He walked around Diogo, who was not about to move.
Viggo stood close to Madison and slipped a treat into her hand. Without missing a beat, she remarked, “Oh. My mistake. Look what I found!” Diogo immediately sat up and waved his front paws in the air. He looked at Madison with his big brown eyes and let out a soft woof.
Madison considered it a thank-you and replied, “You’re welcome,” handing the appreciative pooch his treat.
“Only one,” Viggo cautioned. “We don’t want to spoil him.”
Madison grinned and whispered in Diogo’s ear, “It will be our little secret.” Diogo nudged her hand with his snout. Another thank-you in dog-speak.
The adrenaline Madison had been experiencing was starting to decline. She yawned. “Sorry. It’s not the company.” She placed her hand on Viggo’s chest. “I am so happy you joined me tonight. You got a glimpse of my other world, warts and all.”
Viggo softly took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I enjoyed the insight I gleaned from the occasion.”
“Insight?” Madison gazed into his eyes.
“How you interact with people other than us clam diggers.”
Madison sputtered, “You are far from being a clam digger. You don’t even like to bait a hook!” She squinted. “Or so you say.”
Viggo chuckled. “I do not like to bait a hook. The only thing I like about clams is if they are on a sandwich by Hannah, or steamed in garlic, wine, and olive oil. And perhaps an oreganato or casino, if available.”
“Aren’t you the clam connoisseur,” Madison remarked while Viggo still held her hand. “Believe it or not, I can actually cook, and steamed clams are one of my signature dishes.”
Viggo stepped back without letting go. “Madison Wainwright, you are full of surprises.”
Madison was all atwitter. The sexual tension between them was intensifying. She didn’t know what the next move would or should be. She kept his hand within her grasp but then took the chicken approach.
“Come. I’ll get you some fresh towels.”
Viggo restrained a groan. At that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss her deeply.
Maybe next time. Would there be a next time?
Is she only interested in a platonic relationship?
He consoled himself thinking it might not be appropriate, especially when Lincoln and Olivia were due back any minute.
Another time. He was determined to make it special.
Perhaps a romantic dinner at a later date.
He followed her down the hallway toward the guest room, with Diogo lagging behind. Madison opened the linen closet and handed him several towels. “Thank you again for humoring me tonight. I’ll make it up to you with my clams.”
Viggo couldn’t help but burst out in a nervous laugh. “I shall hold you to it.” He kissed her on the forehead again. “Sweet dreams, sweet Madison.” He gave her a two-finger salute and disappeared into the bedroom across the hall from hers.
Madison’s stomach was quivering as if there were a hundred butterflies flickering inside.
That was the second kiss on the forehead.
Maybe she should wear platform shoes the next time so he can reach her lips.
She entered her room where Mario and Luigi had already claimed their turf.
She flung herself between the two of them.
“Do you think he likes me? Like, really, really likes me?” She looked at Mario.
He yawned in response. “Great. And you, Luigi?” He rubbed his head against her hand. “Thank you. That’s encouraging.”
She sat up and began her evening ritual, which included removing her clothes and putting on a robe. She entered the en suite bathroom and began removing her makeup and washing her face with a mild cleanser, then toner, firming serum, and under-eye contour gel. She stared at herself in the mirror.
“I have to believe you’ve still got it, girl.” She changed into a pair of silk pajamas and crawled back between her fur babies, carefully shimmying between the sheets so as not to disturb them. She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, then fell into a deep sleep.