Felicia hung up the pay telephone, having exhausted her supply of quarters, but her job was done. By tonight, Maxie and Georgie would be on their way to Texas. However, they'd be intercepted in Dallas by her grandmother and taken away to a safe place that only she and her grandmother knew about. Time to get the girls out of the line of fire, and fast.
Tom wasn't happy about the breakup, not that Felicia cared, but things had been getting a tad strange ever since she'd let it slip that she was going to do some Cassadine investigating of her own. Imagine getting arrested by some two-bit cop in some little podunk town in New York! Imagine the likelihood of some other blond having robbed a bank and having the policeman try to pin it on her! And, more sinister than that, imagine finding $10,000 in her bank account, a ten grand that she couldn't account for. Was someone trying to tell her something? Fine, she decided. There was clearly something going on, and she was determined to know what it was. No way would she listen to Tom's explanations about anything. WSB indeed! As if they would hire somebody like him! If he was WSB, then what was that breakdown he'd had just before they began their affair? A complete farce? Something to generate sympathy in her? Had he been manipulating her even then? Not her finer moments, she had to admit. She'd reached out to him, and been completely taken in. It was disgraceful conduct for an investigator.
But, no more. Now the shoe would be on the other foot. There was something odd about Tom that she intended to discover, but to do that, she couldn't let him know that she was investigating him. In fact, she had to appear to have her mind focused away from investigations completely, and the hunt for new accommodations would suit her nicely.
Yes, Felicia was leaving the Brownstone, and her best friend, Mac, was going to help her find a place. Besides, as he'd explained when she'd told him about her plan, he didn't appreciate getting busted either. Yes, Scorpio and Jones were on the case again, and they wouldn't quit until it was solved.
"Miss Coe has been in nearly every shop in the city," Stuart Matthew's man reported, his nerves on edge. "She's loaded that limousine down, and I really feel for that poor old geezer she has carting her packages around."
"This is interesting. Was Dr. Collins with her?"
"Not once. I overheard her telling a salesclerk that her fiancé hates shopping. I mean, what guy doesn't?"
"True, but one hardly spends all their time in this city shopping. What about their nightlife?"
The man flipped his notebook over and recited a list of the finest restaurants in the city. "She's been busy. A different place for lunch and dinner. She has lunch with the old geezer, the limo driver, and then dines with the doctor. But, I don't think that things are hearts and flowers there. Last night, she was wearing a dress cut down to there and up to here-flaming red slinky stuff, and the doc didn't even seem to notice. Whew!! My tongue was hanging out, but that guy didn't even care! Then, she danced with some other man, and I don't mean the waltz. We're talking dirty dancing here, and the doctor just kept making notes to himself. Somebody needs to tell that guy to appreciate the lady, or someone else will."
"Very interesting. You don't, by any chance, have any idea where they're dining this evening, do you?"
"I just happened to get that information," the agent smiled. He handed a piece of paper to his boss. "They'll be there at seven-thirty this evening, and boss, they have a dance floor."
"Excellent. By the way, you have the rest of the day and evening off." Stuart smiled smugly. Liked to dance, did she? Wondering what she'd be wearing this evening, he began humming a tango.
"Are you ready, Doc?" Lucy asked as she tugged on an impossibly tight turquoise silk dress that was scandalous, even by her standards.
"Good grief, Lucy! You don't actually think that I'm going to be able to sit there as if totally immersed in my work, while you cavort around the dance floor, barely dressed-and barely is the operative term-in that little scrap of silk. Who knows what lecherous jerk might ask you to dance."
"Ah, Doc," Lucy smiled, kissing him gently. "You know this is our big night. We have to stage a scene so that my departure will be noticed."
"Your departure? That won't be all that will be noticed tonight. Pull your dress down, Lucy, and I don't mean there. Good heavens! There isn't enough to pull down without baring something else."
"Doc, think of this as bait."
"I'm trying not to think of it at all." He shook his head as he contemplated Lucy dancing in that dress. "Lucy, I don't think I'm up to this. Last night almost killed me."
"Yes, but when we got back to our place, didn't that make up for some of the aggravation?"
With a deep sigh, Kevin relented. "This probably builds character. Or, maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that you're going home with me."
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