Double Doublecross (6 page)

“Oh, I can't remember Bill. You know how it is. You get talking to some of the realtors and all kinds of information flies around. I probably misunderstood somebody at the time. By the way, I met someone who lives in one of your condos, now let me see … what was her name? I met her at a closing night cocktail party after the last performance of
The Mikado
a little while ago. I think her name was Tara, Lara, Myra, Sara, Shannon or something like that.”

“You must mean Sara Martin. Yeah, she stays here, but she doesn't pay the rent. Her boyfriend does.”

Rick decided to dig a bit deeper. “Oh, you mean Carl what's his name. I thought she told me they were finished. I guess I was mistaken.”

“I don't know about that. It might be true. It might not. Mind you, there's a young blonde guy who sees a lot of Sara when Mr. Regis is out of town. She claims he's
her brother
. Anyway, I keep my nose out of other people's business. That way I can't get hurt,” he said.

Rick thanked him and leaned back in his chair to ponder the situation. Perhaps it was true she had finished with Carl.
It was possible she did have a brother with blonde hair like herself.

It was nearly five o'clock and time to close up. Pat was just wrapping things up in the office, and Stan was out with a client who had just dropped in out of the blue.

“I'm off, Pat!” he shouted.

“Thanks for your help, Rick. Stan told me about it. You really shouldn't put yourself in such a precarious position, though. We may never recover, and I still have Jake out there with his nose to the grindstone so you don't have to worry about me. We still have the green stuff coming in.”

Rick smiled as he said goodnight. Pat always referred to money as
the green stuff
.

On the way home Rick contemplated the subject of Sara and her problem. She was going to call him tonight. Should he say anything about Carl and her leaving his apartment? Or should he keep quiet about it and hope she would bring the subject up herself. And what about her brother or whatever he was? She had never mentioned having any blood relatives.

He made some coffee and retrieved another TV dinner from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave oven. No wonder she did not want him to have her telephone number.

He switched on the television and started to eat his dinner. ‘It's a bit tasteless,' he thought. ‘Better start some home cooking.' Although he was quite an accomplished cook, Rick seldom cooked for himself. He thought it pointless to cook for one person.

As he ate his dinner, he was thinking of the information that he had gleaned from Bill Janson. Sara had lied to him about living with Carl although she had said she was leaving him. He thought the least she could do was to come clean and tell him that she had been living with Carl at Casa Diablo.

‘Maybe she was a compulsive liar,' Rick mused. The thought occurred to him but he dismissed it. Obviously she had her reason for hiding the truth, and he didn't want to jeopardize their relationship—at least, not at this point in time.

The telephone in the family room chirped. “Why can't it ring like a proper phone?” Rick said out loud to himself. He waited for the third chirp. If it was Sara, he didn't want to appear to be too anxious.

“Rick Jacobs here,” he said in his casual voice. “Who's calling?”

“It's me, Rick. Sara. I'm wondering if you're having any luck finding me a place to live. I'm beginning to feel desperate. Don't forget, I have to move out by the weekend. I really can't afford to stay where I'm living right now.”

‘I bet you can't,' he thought. ‘Should I ask her again where she's currently living? Why not? Perhaps she will unload the truth on me.'

“Look, Sara, if you're short on next month's rent, let me loan it to you over the holiday period, and there's no hurry to pay me back. I can write a check now and bring it over to you right away. At least it will buy you a bit more time for us to do a more thorough search. As I said before, this is not a good time of the year to go looking for a place to live.”

Sara felt panic rip through her body. Her brain went numb. She had to think of a plausible excuse quickly without raising suspicion.

“You know, Rick. That's a generous offer and I appreciate it very much. I really don't feel like getting myself indebted to anyone, plus I have to see an agent this evening about a possible commercial and I'm about to wash my hair and get ready to meet him. Thanks all the same.”

“You're welcome,” he said. “The offer still stands if you think of changing your mind.”

“Alright, Rick. I'll give you another call tomorrow evening. Bye for now.” With that, she quickly hung up without saying another word.

Rick stood there with the phone in his hand. ‘If that wasn't the brush off, then what was it?' he deliberated.

He wished that he had her phone number so he could call her back. How could he find it? Of course, he could try the phone directory. Now, what was Carl's surname? Regis! That was it! His name was Carl Regis. He flipped through the pages and looked under Regis and found no Carl Regis.

There must be a way. Maybe Bill Janson would know. He picked up the San Ramon Yellow Pages and picked out the first number he could find and called Bill's number. After five rings Bill Janson picked up the phone.

“Janson here,” the gruff voice said. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Bill, it's me, Rick Jacobs. Hope I'm not disturbing you. I need your help with something.”

“Well, this is an honor. Twice in one day. I hope it's nothing complicated. My brain goes dead this time of day. Anyway, shoot!” he bellowed.

“I've just tried to call Carl Regis and got a Pete Ralston on the line. I think I've got the wrong number. I must have written it down incorrectly. Can you connect me to him so I can give him a message?”

“Nope, can't put you through. Don't have the ability, but I can give you his number, and you can leave him a message on his machine ‘cos nobody's at home. His girly friend has just left with her
brother
. Get the picture, Rick? Here's the number.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Rick said, writing the number down and
putting the phone back on the hook.

Who was this
brother
character? She had told him she was going to see an agent. More lies. There must be an explanation somewhere. He decided to tackle her about the brother situation, but he would have to come up with a question she would have to answer and find the best opportunity to ask it. So many unanswered questions bothered him, and he went to bed with his head spinning.

R
ick felt no better the next morning. He still wanted answers to his questions. Again it was raining, but not as hard as the day before. Before long, the sun crept through a cluster of dark clouds.

Rick opened his laundry room door, giving him access to his garage. He got into his Lincoln, pressed the automated garage door opener and backed the car out into the large circular driveway.

He stopped for a moment, and looked at the imposing house with its large front garden stocked with evergreen shrubs and flowerbeds. He wondered if he really needed a house this size. It was a good investment, but due to his excessive lifestyle, it was clear to him that he might have to sell it.

Not giving it another thought, he turned into the driveway and made his way to the office via the back roads. The trees were bare and looked untidy, but the rolling hills had now turned to a lush dark green, thanks to the inclement weather that had soaked the Bay Area during the last month.

Arriving at the office, he was greeted by Pat James and a
middle-aged couple standing just behind her.

“Good morning, Mr. Jacobs,” she said formally. She always addressed him and Stan formally when clients were present. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Tom and Janet Hughes from Los Angeles. They arrived just last night. Let me introduce you to Mr. Jacobs,” she said turning to the couple, “he will be helping you to get settled here.”

“Hello and good morning. Take a seat and let's see what we can do for you. Is there any particular area that you want to look at? Are there any specific requirements at all?”

Tom Hughes turned to his wife and gave her a questioning look. “I think I would like a four bedroom house with a three car garage. Let's say about three thousand square feet, preferably in this area. What do you think, Tom?” said Janet Hughes.

“I really don't mind as long as I am within easy reach of the Bay Area Rapid Transport System,” he said. “I'll be working in San Francisco so I want to be within five minutes of the nearest terminal. Otherwise I have an open mind.”

“Let me do a search and then we'll sit down and map out the day,” Rick replied. After a few minutes at his computer Rick produced a list of five houses in the immediate area of Lafayette and Orinda.

After preparing their route, they set off in Rick's limousine starting with the three houses in Lafayette. At one o'clock they stopped for lunch at the Buttermill Restaurant which was one of Rick's favorite watering holes. After further discussion of their needs over lunch, he made off in the direction of Orinda, close to where he lived.

They looked at the two houses in the area and decided this would be the town they would love to live in. Orinda was a charming little town directly on the BART line with large
and small neat houses plus a good local shopping area. The BART ride was only about thirty minutes from the big city, and this suited Tom Hughes just right. After concluding the tour, they took a drive past Rick's house.

“I live just in there,” he said pointing to the large house with its imposing gates, long circular drive and neat garden.

“It looks beautiful,” Janet Hughes remarked. “Are there any more houses like yours in the area?”

“There are a few, but they're not on the market I'm afraid.”

“Well, we like what we've seen so far, and I think this is the place for us. We're leaving for L. A. tonight, then we are off to San Diego to spend the holidays with our daughter, her husband and their children. We'll be in touch with you after the vacation. Be sure to let us know if anything else turns up in the area,” Tom Hughes said to Rick.

“Okay,” said Rick. “I'll keep my eyes and ears open.”

‘Promising, promising,' Rick thought. It was past six o'clock and he was hungry. He didn't want a big dinner. He'd had enough at lunchtime. He stopped at the local delicatessen and bought a pastrami roll and a coffee to go, then drove back to his house.

The phone was ringing as he went through the garage door. ‘Let it ring. The answering machine will pick up the message,' he reasoned.

He waited for the machine to beep and listened to the message. It was Sara. He'd forgotten that she was going to call him that evening. He decided to wait until she had finished her message. Perhaps she would leave her number for him to call, although he already knew it, thanks to Bill Janson.

She finished the call with
I'll call you later this evening
, but left no telephone number for him to call. He waited
impatiently for a full thirty minutes before the phone rang again. He picked up the phone after the third ring and spoke in a lazy easy manner.

“Rick Jacobs here.”

“It's me, Rick. Sara. I left a message earlier but you weren't in.”

“Oh yes. That's right. I was expecting a call from a client,” he lied. “I guess you're calling about fixing you up with somewhere to live. Well, Stan and I have virtually come to a dead end. There is
one
solution I can offer you and that is to move into the spare master suite at my place, no strings attached of course,” he said, thinking on his feet. It was a completely spontaneous gesture and he couldn't believe he had said it.

“The wing has its own full bathroom, a kitchen, and a retreat combined with the bedroom. You'll have complete privacy because it's situated on the opposite side of the house. It'll only be temporary until we find you something after the holiday period. I'm afraid that's the best I can do unless you can find somewhere else. What do you think?”

Rick couldn't believe what he had just said. Feeling numb, he waited for her reply.

Sara was not expecting this offer and a pregnant silence fell on the conversation. What could she say? She was desperate and time was short. Carl had been quite emphatic that she had to get out of the apartment within a week and now there were only three days left.

‘What the hell was Carl up to!' she wondered. Was he in some kind of trouble with the people he worked for? Did he have another girlfriend? What would he think if she accepted Rick's offer? After all, he had put her in this predicament. These questions raced through her mind.

“Are you still there?” Rick asked.

“Yes, yes I am. I was just off balance with your offer, that's all.”

“Well, what do you say? As I said, you would have complete privacy with no strings attached. You won't get a better offer than that. Plus, it will be rent free,” he said with a laugh.

Sara was quiet for a moment then she said, “Okay, Rick. I really can't thank you enough. I'll start getting my things together first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” said Rick. “I'll give you a call tomorrow at lunch time and we can start making arrangements.”

“No, I'll give
you
a call and let you know how far I've got with my packing. Good night, Rick. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” With that she hung up the phone.

‘Yet another excuse for not giving me her number,' he thought. It didn't make any difference to him because he already had her number—or to be correct, Carl Regis's number. She was really trying hard to hide her association with Carl. He started to contemplate what he had done.