Free Fall Read Free Page B

military cut.
    Christine waves to me from behind the wheel of her VW.
    I wave back.
    I haven’t seen Christine Lemonopolous in years. Now, we bump into each other twice in one night.
    Ceepak motions for me to step out to the street with him.
    He wants to discuss something “in private.”
    â€œSo, you and Santucci sent Ms. Lemonopolous up here to Dr. Rosen’s home?”
    â€œRight. She told me Dr. Rosen would let her spend the night.”
    Ceepak cocks an eyebrow. “In the driveway?”
    â€œNo. She’s one of his home health aides. I figured he had a spare room for her.”
    â€œPerhaps. But Ms. Lemonopolous never requested accommodations from Dr. Rosen. Not wishing to disturb his rest, she chose, instead, to spend the night in her vehicle. Neighbors complained. Boyce and Hartman swung by to arrest her for vagrancy.”
    â€œNow what?” I ask.
    â€œI promised Cam and Brad that we would find a more appropriate venue for Christine to spend the night.”
    And Ceepak is a man of his word.
    â€œWell, she can’t go back to where she’s been staying,” I say. “There was an altercation. And she doesn’t have a place of her own.”
    â€œSo she informed me. Christine has hit hard times, Danny.”
    â€œYou guys talked?”
    Ceepak nods. “Apparently, she left her high-paying position in the trauma center at Mainland Medical.”
    â€œDid she say why?”
    Ceepak shakes his head. “Nor did I ask. At this juncture, it is none of my business. I have no need to pry into her personal affairs.”
    Like I said earlier, it’s been a rough year for a lot of folks in Sea Haven. Ceepak’s wife, Rita, for instance, lost her catering business when all the big parties and beach bashes quit pitching their tents around town—even before Sandy blew into town. She’s back waitressing at Morgan’s Surf and Turf.
    I glance at my watch. 3:22 A . M .
    â€œChristine is due back here for her nursing shift at oh-seven-hundred hours,” says Ceepak.
    So, she could grab some more Z’s—if we can find a place for her to crash for a few hours.
    â€œI was hoping, Danny, that, given your numerous female friends, you might know someone who could take Christine in for the remainder of the night.”
    I go down a mental checklist. I do have a lot of gal pals. Kara Cerise. Barb Schlichting. Dawn Scovill. Heidi Noroozy. What can I say? It was a long, cold, lonely winter. But I don’t know any of those ladies well enough to barge in on them at three-thirty in the morning with a stray cat.
    And I can’t have her stay at my place. It’s tiny. Christine’s a curvaceous hottie. Do the math.
    Ceepak can’t take Christine to his apartment, either. His adopted son, T.J., may be off at the Naval Academy in Annapolis (freeing up the fold-out sofa) but he and his wife (plus Barkley the dog) share a very cramped one-bedroom apartment over the Bagel Lagoon bake shop. Ceepak’s mother moved to Sea Haven last winter, but she’s in an “adults only” condo complex. And by adults, they mean people over the age of fifty-five without kids or grandkids.
    â€œShould we take her to the house?” I suggest. “Let her bunk in one of the jail cells?”
    â€œProbably not our best option,” says Ceepak.
    Finally, it hits me. “How ’bout Becca?”
    Our mutual friend Becca Adkinson’s family runs the Mussel Beach Motel. It’s the first week of June. The summer season won’t really start for another couple of weeks. They probably have a few vacant rooms.
    â€œExcellent suggestion, Danny.”
    Yeah. I just hope Becca and her dad agree.
    Oh, by the way, Becca’s father, Mr. Adkinson? He’s the guy who ran for mayor against Hubert H. Sinclair.
    The guy who lost.

4
    B ECCA SAYS YES .
    â€œI’ll escort you over there,” I tell Christine.
    Hey, I’m wide-awake now.