Page 13 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Plus we’re in New York on Tuesday because Donnie has a meeting. Do you want anything from Madison Avenue?”

I still hadn’t used the Prada purse she brought me back last time. Maria had a heart of gold, and she liked to share the spoils from her divorces, even if she could be a little abrasive at times.

“I appreciate you offering, but I have plenty of accessories now.” A yawn escaped. “Sorry.”

“Tired?”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Oh! I should have asked. How are you after the thing on Sunday night? Did the police find that guy?” She rummaged through her purse and dropped a bottle into my lap. “Here, try these.”

“Ambien? Aren’t they prescription only?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry—I’ve got loads on account of Don snores. The guy? Did the police get him?”

“No, and they’ve given up.” I gave her a quick recap of my conversation with Sergeant Banks the day before yesterday. “I’m tempted to take out an ad in theBethesda Gazettejust to warn people.”

“Hell, you should try theWashington Post. Don’t they realise there’s a maniac out there? It’s about time somebody took women’s safety seriously. Tim was smooth—I bet he’s drugged women before. And who knows what he’ll do in the future.”

“That’s my fear too. Well, that and the fact he knows where I live.”

“Holy shit. How?”

“I think he has my purse. It disappeared.”

“What if he comes to your house? The cops should sit outside or something. Where do all our tax dollars go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Checking for parking violations, that’s where. I got two fines last week. First, we pay the police to write the tickets, then we pay them again or they impound our cars.”

“Have you considered parking in a legal space?”

Maria trilled with laughter. “Not when I’m wearing five-inch pumps, hun. Okay, okay, I’ve got a solution. We’ll hire you a bodyguard.”

“I’ve had the locks changed. I don’t need Kevin Costner sitting outside.”

Hmm, on second thought… I screwed up my face a bit, regretting my words since having a young Kevin Costner outside wasn’t actually a bad idea.

“You’re more of a Gerard Butler girl? We could hold auditions.”

“No. No bodyguard.” A shame, but what would my neighbours say? I already got enough strange looks because I lived alone in a big house, without having the Terminator’s baby brother watching over me.

“Hun, if anything happens to you, my wedding’s gonna be screwed, so we have to fix this. How about a private detective? Like Sherlock Holmes. Are you a fan of Benedict Cumberbatch?”

A PI? It wasn’t Maria’s worst idea ever. No, that was reserved for wedding number one when a fear of VPL had led her to go without panties. Except after a few glasses of champagne at the reception, she forgot and hooked her leg over her beloved’s arm at the end of the first dance and gave half the room an eyeful, including the groom’s mother. The whole incident was immortalised on film, and I’d had to supervise while the cameraman deleted every single frame. The only saving grace was that Maria had been too drunk to get embarrassed.

“I can hire one for you.” She pulled her phone out before I had a chance to answer. “Let’s find a guy right now.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Like I said… Hey, there’s hundreds. What we need is pictures.”

“No, we need recommendations. And I can pay for myself. You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.”

“It’s Donnie’s money. He’s got so much of it, he doesn’t even notice.”

“If we do this, I’m paying.”

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