Double Doublecross (4 page)

“No,” Sara lied. “I don't have anything to do with that creep anymore. He was just someone I used to hang out with sometimes. You know, parties, movies and theatre—things like that.”

“Well, what is it then?” Rick proclaimed, showing a little compassion. Something was obviously bothering her, but she was unwilling to talk about it.

“How's business with you? Do you have any new customers? Who's looking after the shop while you're out enjoying yourself?” she said with a smile as she fired three, quick, work-related questions at him.

Rick realized she had changed the subject, and he decided to go along with her for the time being.

“It's a bit slow this time of year, but we have a couple of new, out of town clients that I'll be showing around next week. They'll probably be here on Tuesday or Wednesday. They're both flying in on Monday evening from Los Angeles. Hughes is being relocated to the Concord area. At the moment Stan is looking after the shop and he'll page me if he needs me. He's well-organized and competent and can handle anything that crops up.”

They ate almost in silence except for a few mundane comments on the food and weather. Sara was evidently playing for time, waiting for the right moment to ask Rick for a favor.

The main course was over and she ordered a piece of key
lime pie for dessert. ‘More delays,' Rick thought.

The restaurant was practically empty with the exception of a few tables. The conversational noise level had dropped considerably. Sara decided the time was ripe for her to tell Rick about her dilemma.

“Rick, I've got a problem,” she said quietly with a look of apprehension on her face. Rick looked at her with a friendly smile.

‘Haven't we all?' he thought to himself. “Okay, Sara, speak into this friendly ear,” he said gently. “Let's see if I can help.”

“Well, it's like this,” she sighed. “I have to find somewhere else to live by the end of the week.”

“Why is that?” Rick questioned in a friendly tone.

“My lease is up and I can't afford to continue paying the high rent,” she lied convincingly. “I need something a bit cheaper and smaller but close by. It has to be on a month to month lease.”

Rick pursed his lips. Maybe he could find out where she lived.

“What's the monthly rental price you're paying now? Give me a ballpark figure that you want to pay and I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything, but I can give it a whirl. Monthly leases are hard to come by, but I've got a few connections that might help.”

Sara thought for a moment. She knew that Carl was paying somewhere in the region of two thousand a month for his apartment, but she didn't want to share that information. She decided to ignore the first question and give him a figure to work with.

“I think somewhere in the vicinity of a thousand a month. I have a few modeling appointments in the next few weeks that should keep the wolf from the door,” she fabricated.
“I need something reasonably cheap. My savings account is getting a bit low so I need all the help I can get.”

“Okay, I'll see what I can dig up. It won't be easy but I'll get on it right away. Stan and I will take a look around,” he said in a confident tone. “Give us a couple of days and I'll get back to you—let's say on Tuesday. Give me your phone number and I'll give you a call if we find anything sooner.”

“Thanks, Rick. Let me touch base with you Monday evening. I have a few work-related leads that I need to check up on, and I never know where I'm going to be,” she prevaricated.

‘She won't give me her phone number. Just another blind alley,' Rick thought. ‘Maybe I should try something different.'

“Well, I'd better get back to the office and see what we can dig up. Why don't you give me a call Monday evening and we'll take it from there. One way or another, your problem will be solved,” he said as they were getting up to leave.

He leaned over to give her a kiss, but all he met was an offered cheek. He pecked her lightly and opened the door for her to leave. It was now raining a lot harder and was coming down in a torrent of silver streaks. Sara put up her umbrella, and told Rick she would make a dash for it as her car was only a short distance from the door.

Rick stood there. She hadn't even offered to escort him to his car under the shelter of her umbrella. Running toward his Lincoln, he decided it was time to discover where she lived by following her out of the parking lot.

But Sara just sat in her car waiting for Rick to leave first. After two or three minutes, he decided to make a move. It was quite obvious she was determined to let him leave first.

Rick was feeling irritated by this. He pulled out of the lot
in a hurry, then made a right turn and merged into the traffic. He made his way quickly along the avenue for a hundred yards or so. Then he pulled into a strip mall to a spot well off the road where he could see the parking lot of the restaurant.

Through the rain he watched her pull out and then turn left. Quickly he drove to the strip mall exit and was fortunate to have a clear road in front of him. Following her red Monte Carlo would be easy.

She was heading toward the freeway. She signaled a right turn at the underpass, then headed south. Rick kept two or three cars behind her and the rain helped him to shadow her, offering a shimmering cover from her vision. Rick wondered where she was headed.

After a few miles she slowed down and took an off ramp, then turned left heading east. Rick followed her at a distance, thankful that the traffic lights were showing green in his favor.

She drove steadily for about two miles and then made a left. When Rick made the same left turn, he saw her car pass through the security gate of a fashionable apartment block. He pulled up to the gate. He knew this place well. It was the very expensive Casa Diablo condominium complex.

These were two and three bedroom dwellings luxuriously equipped with all the expensive appliances plus access to community tennis courts, a swimming pool, spa and a gymnasium.

He knew these places sold for at least half a million, and a rented establishment went for three thousand dollars minimum per month usually for a lease period of no less than six months.

‘How could she afford this?' Rick wondered? This was big league living quarters. Who knows, maybe the rent was too much for her, forcing her to find a cheaper place to live.

Rick looked at his watch. It was fifteen minutes past three. Stan would be wondering what had happened to him. Turning around, he made his way back to the office, determined to find out more about Sara's circumstances and why she had to leave her apartment at such short notice.

Stan was waiting for Rick when he returned.

“I'm glad you decided to come back. I was starting to suffer from acute malnutrition,” he said jokingly. “Do you mind if I grab a bite to eat? I haven't had lunch yet.”

“Sorry about that, Stan. We got caught up in a conversation about renting apartments. Sara's in a bit of a bind. She has to find somewhere to live for a month or two in the next seven days. There seems to be some degree of urgency. I told her we'd look around for her.”

“Fine,” said Stan. “We don't have much going on so far this week. After I get back from lunch, we can do a search together, although I doubt very much if we will find anything at such short notice with a month to month lease. They're hard to come by.”

Immediately after Stan left, Rick went to his computer and started the search. The fact that she was leaving Casa Diablo at such short notice puzzled him.

He knew Bill Janson, the apartment manager there. Occasionally they played a round of golf together, and they were on friendly terms. Many times in the past Rick had placed wealthy clients in the complex thanks to Bill, who'd let him know when an apartment became vacant.

In the meantime Rick continued his search, but nothing came up on the computer that fitted her requirements. Stan would get the same results so there was no point in him trying. On the other hand, Stan might be able to find something through his personal contacts.

An hour later, Stan came in with a wry grin on his face. He was soaking wet, his trench coat dripping into small puddles on the tiled entrance floor.

“Great day, if you happen to be a
duck
,” he said jokingly. “I can't see anybody looking for a place to buy on a day like this. I bet the malls are full and I bet Helen is out there with the best of them, spending money we don't have,” he wisecracked.

Although Stan was less dynamic than Rick, he was always in a positive frame of mind and had a wonderful sense of humor. Rick explained to him that he had already completed a search for Sara and had come up with a big blank.

“Quite frankly, I think we're looking for a needle in a haystack. We could find her a motel room while we're looking, but it depends on how long she would need it, how much she can afford and what kind of Christmas she wants stuck in a motel room,” Stan said with a chuckle. “It's only a couple of weeks or so away. That reminds me. I have to shop for a present for Helen. Any ideas, Rick?”

“You've got to be joking, Stan. How can you expect a single guy like me to come up with an answer to a question like that? I don't have a clue. My problem is deciding what to get Sara for a present.”

“You haven't known her that long, and besides, you always change women after a week or two, although I must say she's lasted longer than most of the others. Nearly a record, I think,” he said with a smile.

“I don't know, Stan. She's a good looker, but there's something about her that's kind of cold, odd and remote. Yet on some occasions she's very happy and talkative. We have a friendly, no strings attached relationship and that's all. I can't even get to first base. There's something there that
I can't put my finger on. I can't figure this one out. To be quite honest, she's got me stumped for the first time in my life.”

“Your problem is that your relationships have been with mindless bimbos, and this is a woman with some smarts and a mind of her own. You're not used to this situation, Ricky old pal. Go back to the girls you're more comfortable with.”

“Okay, Stan, I get your point. Just lay off the bimbo stuff, will you? I think I'll stick with this one for a while. Changing the subject, do you know if there are any vacancies coming up at the Casa Diablo complex in San Ramon? I'm showing some clients property this week, and I might need somewhere to put them up for a few months during their search for a suitable house.”

“I hope they've got plenty of cash. Those places don't come cheap. As far as I know, they've got a full house. Why don't you give Bill a call? He knows exactly what's going on over there, although I doubt if anyone is moving out over the Christmas and New Year period.”

Rick thought about it for a moment and decided it would keep for a couple of days. In the meantime, he had to sell the Porsche because his financial position was looking more precarious than he at first thought, and it required some immediate action before the whole roof caved in on him.

“I'm just going out for a few minutes. Hold the fort until I get back. I won't be too long.”

“Look, Rick, there's nothing going on here. Why don't you head home and leave the lock-up to me? It's nearly four thirty now, and I'm only staying for another hour or so anyway.”

Taking Stan up on his offer, Rick drove directly to the local Porsche dealer that he knew was open on Sundays. As
he arrived, a salesman was on him as soon as he got out of the car with a
how are you today, sir
look on his face.

“How are we today, sir?” he said.

“Fine, thanks. I would like to see Hank Sanders if he's here,” he said, not giving the salesman the chance to utter a word, moving quickly into the showroom out of the rain.

Rick always used Hank for his car purchases, partly because he knew him personally and partly because he was the manager and a no pressure salesman. The salesman strode off to find him and moments later Hank appeared in the showroom. He had a short, very fat body with a round head perched on a layer of multiple chins. He beamed at Rick as he crossed the floor.

“Looking for another car or is this a social visit?” he asked with a smile on his ruddy complexioned face.

“Well, this is not a social visit and I don't want a new car. I need to sell the Porsche that I bought from you a couple of years back. Then I'll think about getting another car,” he lied.

“What condition is it in, Rick?”

“You know what kind of condition it's in, Hank. It's like new with twenty-five thousand miles on the clock. As I said, you know the car. What can I get for it?”

“I don't know, Rick. This is a bad time of the year for dealers like us. I could probably let you have thirty thousand for it but that's the tops if it's still in good condition. Bring it around tomorrow morning and I'll take a look.”

“I think it's worth more than that, Hank. After all, I've given you my business and I'll probably take another one off your hands when I'm ready. And don't forget—I recommend you guys to my clients.”

“Like I said, Rick, come round in the morning and I'll see if we can do a deal.”

“Okay, Hank. I'll drop it by in the morning about nine. See you then.”

Rick jumped in his car and took the back roads to his house. The trees were lifeless and looked dead without their leaves, but the rolling hills were now getting their winter rain and turning into green carpets as opposed to their golden summer hue.

Opening his front door, he turned up the thermostat and selected a TV dinner from his refrigerator. Putting it in the microwave, he went to the family room and switched on the TV. The Oakland Raiders were just starting their evening game and he intended to sit on the couch, eat his dinner and let the thought of selling the Porsche slip from his mind.