Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [39]
As he blew on the coffee and sipped at it, Tyler let his mind race. Who the hell was that guy? For all he knew, it could just as easily be a woman using some kind of disguising device. Criminals used them all the time. And, why me? Yeah, yeah, I’m the one with the deep pockets. Obviously, the caller knew something pertinent. He wondered what would happen if he hopped a flight to Miami to check on things, which was his right to do since he was technically Jellard’s boss. Maybe he’d look up Kate Rush’s address and stop in for a visit. He owed her an apology. The big question was, did he have the guts to follow through and actually do it.
His coffee was cool enough now to gulp at it. He liked strong coffee even though at times he felt like his eyeballs were standing at attention.
He needed to pull a rabbit out of a hat, and he needed to do it soon since his unknown caller had stressed the time frame of the task force working against him.
Like I needed a reminder.
Tyler went to his computer, his coffee refreshed. He logged on, booked an airline ticket, paying for it with his own credit card. He booked a 6:00 P.M. flight. He needed time to do some shopping and a few other things both before and after he was home for the noon phone call. Satisfied, he went to MapQuest and started to type.
It was eleven o’clock when his housekeeper handed him the neatly folded clothing she’d just taken out of the dryer. Her eyes were full of questions, but she said nothing. Her English was sketchy, so Tyler made flapping motions with his hands to show he was going on a trip. He went over to his desk and opened an envelope that contained his emergency stash of cash. He pulled out enough bills to pay her for a month. Then he added an extra hundred-dollar bill. The housekeeper’s eyes filled with tears as she hugged him. She hugged him so hard Tyler knew it was how a mother’s hug really felt. He almost swooned. He shoved two more hundreds into her hand. She cried harder. She gripped him harder as she cried, jabbering away in English and Spanish.
Finally, it dawned on Tyler what his housekeeper was saying. “No, no! I am not firing you. I’m coming back.” He pulled away and took her out to the kitchen, where he showed her the calendar and marked off when he would be back. The woman went limp, and if Tyler hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen to the floor. She started to bless and hug him again. For the first time in a long time, a very long time, genuine laughter erupted from Tyler.
Now it was time to get dressed in his new duds. MapQuest had given him a direct route to a used-clothing store, where he found worn jeans, shirts, and a tattered Florida Marlins baseball cap. He found a pair of sneakers that actually fit and matched an equally tattered windbreaker plus four other equally worn sets of clothing.
As he dressed, he thought he would feel squeamish about wearing someone else’s used clothing, but it just felt like clean clothing. The fact that everything fit was a bonus. The baseball cap was the hardest. He plopped it on his head and looked at himself in the mirror. He thought he looked like a regular guy on his way home from a construction job.
Perfect.
The phone rang. Tyler’s gaze flew to the digital clock on his nightstand. His unknown caller was right on time. The digital readout said it was twelve o’clock.
Tyler picked up the phone, and said, “This is Lawrence Tyler.”
“How you doing, pal?”
“Let’s get one thing straight right now, I am not your pal. I’ve thought over your proposal, and I’ve decided to decline. That’s as in screw you, don’t call me again, and if you even think about trying to blackmail me, I will make you wish you’d never been born. Are we clear on my response, Mr. No Name?”
The crackly disguised voice on the other end of the phone waited a few seconds before he said, “Big mistake, Agent