Pamela Baker
From the shadowy corner of the near-empty parking lot, Leslie peered out her windshield at the front door of Peking Palace. The center of five businesses in the strip mall, it was the only one currently open. The time on her phone indicated five minutes until closing.
She tapped the steering wheel. Last month, soon after she’d moved here, her workmates had discussed this restaurant. None had seen more than three cars in the parking lot at any one time, and they wondered how it stayed in business. Given the records she’d uncovered yesterday, she had a clue. She needed proof, and photographing anyone who came and went after hours would be a start.
She leaned back and held her breath as the restaurant door opened. A couple exited. A man pulled the door closed, and the neon OPEN sign went dark. Closing early. She exhaled as the couple climbed into their SUV and drove away without glancing in her direction. They must be patrons.
A black sedan drove in and parked near the front door. A man got out, sauntered down the sidewalk, and glanced around.
“No, no, no!” Her jaw clenched. Not Richard. He couldn’t be involved in a money laundering scheme. But it was him. Though they’d only dated for a few weeks, she’d know his gait—and his propensity to assess his situation—anywhere.
She wanted to march in and confront him, but she knew better. Being on a stakeout by herself was risky in the first place. She’d done it because she needed concrete evidence before reporting her suspicions to anyone, and she didn’t know whom to trust. Her colleagues told her the owners of Peking Palace were well-connected in town, including friendships with both the mayor and police chief.
Leslie inhaled deeply and exhaled on a count of eight. Maybe Richard had ordered late-night take-out. When she’d begged off on their date tonight citing work, he hadn’t sounded disappointed. She’d felt relieved at the time, but now … She took another deep breath. If he was picking up an order, he’d have left by now. Why did she always choose the wrong men? Not only was Richard cute, with his brown eyes and curly hair, but he treated her with respect and kindness. Was it a charade?
She closed her eyes. They’d met in a café near work around the time she’d started investigating this place. He’d downplayed his job, telling her it was a boring office gig. Talking about her career, she’d blabbed about the investigation. Ugh. How could she be so stupid? Did he date her to find out how much she knew? Or had she put him onto this place? Dear God, how did she get herself into these messes?
The passenger door creaked. Her eyes widened as she gasped and whipped her head to the right.
Richard sat, leaving the door open, a scowl on his handsome face. “What are you doing here?”
She gulped in air. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Go home. I’ll fill you in later.” He pushed the door wider.
She lurched toward him. “Wait. How did you know I was here?”
He smirked. “The glimmer off your blond hair.”
She shook her head. “No street lights.”
He shrugged. “I could see well enough. Leave before you really get in over your head.”
She nodded toward two hulks exiting the restaurant with a large duffle bag. “Who’s that?”
He swore and pulled the door closed. “Drive.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. “But—”
Richard exhaled. “You brought this on yourself.” He pulled a pistol out of his jacket pocket and held it on his lap.
She sucked in air as she started the car. “You were pumping me for information this whole time?”
“No.” He scrunched his face and pointed ahead. “Let that car pull in between. Try not to stand out.”
Squinting, she eased off the gas. “Why are you doing this?”
He sighed. “It’s work.”
She scoffed. “Some boring desk job.”
“Most of the time it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t a coincidence that we met, but—”
“You used me.” A tear leaked out, and she wiped it away with a shaky finger.
“At first. I thought you were involved.” He peered into the side mirror. “We’ve got company.” He exhaled and lowered his shoulders.
Her lip quivered. “Is someone following?”
He smiled. “Yes, my partner.”
“Your partner in crime?” That explained a little. “What is your role in the scheme?”
He jerked his head toward her. “We’re taking them down. You thought I—”
“Well, when you showed up tonight—”
He laughed, opened his jacket, and pulled out a badge.
Her breath hitched. “Law enforcement?”
“Detective. We’ve been tracking these guys for a while. Your information about the financial anomalies fit the final pieces into the puzzle.
Sirens sounded from behind.
Richard put his phone to his ear. “Can you take it from here? … Thanks.” He stuck his phone in his jacket pocket and holstered his gun. “You can turn around. My partner and the uniforms have it.”
Leslie scowled. “Don’t you want to be in on the bust?”
Richard shook his head. “Not with you here. Take me back to my car and then go home. Please.” He softened his tone and touched her shoulder. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She snorted.
“Really.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “How about going to the beach on Saturday?”
She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.
“You can drive.” He patted the armrest. “Nice Mini by the way. Can I drive it Saturday?”
“Maybe.” She grinned as her muscles relaxed. “You navigate. I haven’t been there yet. Forensic accountants don’t get out of the office much.”
“I hope to change that about you.” He lifted his palm. “But nothing else.”
“Good plan.” She made a U-turn. Maybe he deserved a second chance.
An avid reader, she enjoys performing in community theater, singing in her church choir, and traveling via ships, planes, trains, and automobiles in that order of preference.
You can find her online at her website, Facebook, Instagram, and Goodreads.
Spark Flash Fiction 