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Authors: Lee Hanson
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some day.”
Julie shot a quick look at Joe.
“Did Dianna go Downtown to Lake Eola very often, Barry?”
“No, I don’t think so…it was just for the art show.”
Barry’s eyebrows formed an upside-down V. The corners of his mouth pulled down and trembled. For a moment, Julie thought he might cry. With effort, he pulled himself together.
“She was just a good person. I know she worked hard and wanted to get ahead. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Julie put out her right hand to shake his, and then covered it with her left.
“You’ve told us more than enough, Barry. Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The young man simply nodded.
Meanwhile, young girls and their parents were drifting into the gym.
Joe, God bless him, changed the sadness of the moment by clapping Barry on the shoulder.
“Hey, man. Good luck with the game! Is your team ready?”
“You bet!” said Barry.
As they left the gym and turned down the hallway, Julie elbowed Joe.
“You could have told me about his disability.”
“You said you didn’t want any ‘extra info’. You said you didn’t want to ‘prejudge’.”
“Okay, I did,” said Julie.
“He opened up more this time,” said Joe. “I didn’t know about the volunteer stuff. I guess she really liked being around the kids.”
“Do you still think Dianna killed herself over an unwanted pregnancy?”
“No. Not over that or anything else,” said Joe.
“I think she was murdered.”
* * * * *
Chapter 13
I t was half-past six and getting darker by the minute when Sabrina Nolen finally hit the garage door opener on her visor and pulled into her three-car garage in Windsor Place. For just a moment when the door began to rise she pictured the garage full, as it once was before her divorce. But the antique Chevy and the Camaro were no longer there, having been granted to her ex-husband, Don.
Don also ended up with half the equity in the house, but Sabrina had no complaints. Falling real estate values had made his share smaller and she had no difficulty buying him out. As for the title company, that cash cow was all hers…along with her six rental properties.
Unlike most people, Sabrina had few illusions about herself. She was minimally attractive, a little overweight and past her prime. She was also aware that her money couldn’t buy love.
But at least I don’t have to suffer old, inattentive fools.
And Mike Menello was none of those.
Sabrina parked her baby blue Jag next to Mike’s SUV, careful to leave enough space between them, since he’d already tapped her car once with his driver-side door.
“Hey, Baby, welcome home,” he said as she entered the expansive kitchen.
He was stirring a pot of tomato sauce on the stove.
Except for the lingering evidence of a once broken nose, Mike Menello had a classic Roman face and a sculpted body that women coveted and men envied. Unduly praised as a boy, at thirty he was a stud who thought the world owed him success.
He held out a wooden spoon of sauce for her to taste.
“I made you Puttanesca”, he said, “just like my mother used to make.”
Sabrina smiled, knowing the name translated to “whore’s spaghetti”.
She doubted the name fit his mother.
“Hmm…delicious.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some wine. Cab or Merlot?” he asked.
She opted for the Merlot and took a seat at a large granite table adorned with fresh flowers and candles. The sliding glass doors to the pool were opened wide and soft music was playing.
Mike had laid the table with attention to detail.
And not just the table …
Sabrina was eight years older than Mike and virtually supporting him. Because of that, he was kissing her ass, both literally and figuratively.
For a good while as they ate, Mike talked about a deal he was on the verge of putting together, no doubt hoping for some financial support.
And then it was her turn.
“So how was your day?” he asked.
In retrospect, she told him about her meeting
Julie shot a quick look at Joe.
“Did Dianna go Downtown to Lake Eola very often, Barry?”
“No, I don’t think so…it was just for the art show.”
Barry’s eyebrows formed an upside-down V. The corners of his mouth pulled down and trembled. For a moment, Julie thought he might cry. With effort, he pulled himself together.
“She was just a good person. I know she worked hard and wanted to get ahead. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Julie put out her right hand to shake his, and then covered it with her left.
“You’ve told us more than enough, Barry. Thank you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The young man simply nodded.
Meanwhile, young girls and their parents were drifting into the gym.
Joe, God bless him, changed the sadness of the moment by clapping Barry on the shoulder.
“Hey, man. Good luck with the game! Is your team ready?”
“You bet!” said Barry.
As they left the gym and turned down the hallway, Julie elbowed Joe.
“You could have told me about his disability.”
“You said you didn’t want any ‘extra info’. You said you didn’t want to ‘prejudge’.”
“Okay, I did,” said Julie.
“He opened up more this time,” said Joe. “I didn’t know about the volunteer stuff. I guess she really liked being around the kids.”
“Do you still think Dianna killed herself over an unwanted pregnancy?”
“No. Not over that or anything else,” said Joe.
“I think she was murdered.”
* * * * *
Chapter 13
I t was half-past six and getting darker by the minute when Sabrina Nolen finally hit the garage door opener on her visor and pulled into her three-car garage in Windsor Place. For just a moment when the door began to rise she pictured the garage full, as it once was before her divorce. But the antique Chevy and the Camaro were no longer there, having been granted to her ex-husband, Don.
Don also ended up with half the equity in the house, but Sabrina had no complaints. Falling real estate values had made his share smaller and she had no difficulty buying him out. As for the title company, that cash cow was all hers…along with her six rental properties.
Unlike most people, Sabrina had few illusions about herself. She was minimally attractive, a little overweight and past her prime. She was also aware that her money couldn’t buy love.
But at least I don’t have to suffer old, inattentive fools.
And Mike Menello was none of those.
Sabrina parked her baby blue Jag next to Mike’s SUV, careful to leave enough space between them, since he’d already tapped her car once with his driver-side door.
“Hey, Baby, welcome home,” he said as she entered the expansive kitchen.
He was stirring a pot of tomato sauce on the stove.
Except for the lingering evidence of a once broken nose, Mike Menello had a classic Roman face and a sculpted body that women coveted and men envied. Unduly praised as a boy, at thirty he was a stud who thought the world owed him success.
He held out a wooden spoon of sauce for her to taste.
“I made you Puttanesca”, he said, “just like my mother used to make.”
Sabrina smiled, knowing the name translated to “whore’s spaghetti”.
She doubted the name fit his mother.
“Hmm…delicious.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some wine. Cab or Merlot?” he asked.
She opted for the Merlot and took a seat at a large granite table adorned with fresh flowers and candles. The sliding glass doors to the pool were opened wide and soft music was playing.
Mike had laid the table with attention to detail.
And not just the table …
Sabrina was eight years older than Mike and virtually supporting him. Because of that, he was kissing her ass, both literally and figuratively.
For a good while as they ate, Mike talked about a deal he was on the verge of putting together, no doubt hoping for some financial support.
And then it was her turn.
“So how was your day?” he asked.
In retrospect, she told him about her meeting
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