The Pajama Affair Read online

  “One of your neighbors just flipped me off,” Liza announced when she let herself into the house.

  Marion exited the kitchen to meet her and rolled her eyes. “They are so passive aggressive,” she said unconcernedly. “Which one was it, the middle-aged man or the old lady?”

  “The middle aged guy,” Liza said on a laugh. “Does the old lady really do it too?”

  “With both hands,” Marion said.

  She turned to go and Liza followed her, picking her way around the piles. The only thing that kept Marion from being a hoarder was her strange obsession with cleaning her floors, toilets and sinks. She scrubbed them almost every day, which was why Liza never felt averse to eating at her house, crowded though it was. Transversely, old piles of papers, books, and knickknacks grew unabated on every surface. The dishes might also have piled up if not for Puck. The kitchen was his domain, and it was mostly clutter free. Even though he had his own apartment Marion respected the space as his and left her mess out of it.

  “Whoa,” Puck said when Liza entered the kitchen. His eyes zeroed in on her hair, which was now taking on a life of its own by lifting the baseball cap off her head.

  “It’s not that bad,” Marion insisted. Liza knew if not for her guilt she would say exactly how bad it was. Brutal honesty was one of the best parts of their friendship.

  “It is that bad,” Liza said. “But hopefully it’s only temporary.” She took off the hat and tossed it onto a stool.

  “Better not let Dirk see you wearing his hat on that hair,” Puck said.

  Liza frowned at his back. Puck and Dirk had never met. Why did Puck sound like he knew Dirk’s reaction, and how had he guessed correctly? Then she realized he sounded exactly like Marion. He must have formed his impression of Dirk through her. It wasn’t that Dirk and Marion didn’t get along. They were polite to each other, and sometimes they even had fun together. But when the three of them were together the atmosphere felt strained with tension for some reason. If Liza didn’t know better she would think they were jealous of each other, but of course that couldn’t be it. For Marion it was most likely protectiveness. She was wary of Dirk and suspicious of his relationship with Liza.

  As for Dirk, he didn’t appear to have a jealous bone in his body, at least when it came to Liza. She was convinced if he walked in on her making out with another man he would calmly ask what was for dinner and then wait patiently for her finish up and cook. Not that she had ever had cause to test her theory. In five years no other man had so much as looked at her, much less hit on her.

  Brunch was delicious. Liza almost forgot her original purpose for wanting to get together. It wasn’t until she stuck her hand in her pocket for her lip gloss that she felt the piece of tape.

  “I have to tell you something weird,” she prefaced.

  Marion gagged and choked on a sip of coffee. “You’re pregnant.”

  “What? No,” Liza yelled before making herself relax. “Why would you even guess that?”

  Marion shrugged and wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Marion,” she pressed.

  “It would be a guaranteed way to get Dirk’s attention and snag a commitment.”

  Liza’s cheeks flamed. Marion knew her better than anyone in the world. The fact that she thought she would stoop so low was a blow, and also a revelation. Had she sunk so low in her pursuit of Dirk?

  “What was the weird thing?” Marion asked tentatively. Her eyes were apologetic. She knew she had given offense, but she hadn’t meant to.

  Liza sighed and tried to brush aside her bruised feelings. “This,” she said. She pulled the piece of tape out of her pocket and set it on the table.

  “It’s a piece of tape,” Puck said, clearly unimpressed.

  Liza nodded. “I found it in my pajamas.” She told them the strange tale of waking to find the tape in her pajamas.

  “I’m sure it was there all along and you missed it,” Marion said reasonably.

  “But the tape wasn’t wrinkled, and the ink is fresh. You know how masking tape looks when it goes through the wash,” Liza argued.

  Marion shrugged, clearly disinterested. She stood and began to clear the dishes.

  Puck leaned forward intently, his eyes gleaming. “Was there anything else unusual lately, anything out of the ordinary you noticed?”

  Liza pressed her lips together and thought hard. “The lock on my front door was sticky, and the mat was askew.” She frowned, remembering. “And when I came inside I caught a whiff of strange cologne.” She had forgotten all that in light of the tape. But those were all such little things. They couldn’t mean anything, could they?

  Puck smiled triumphantly and brushed a lock of long bangs out of his eyes. He was really quite cute, in a little boy sort of way. “Aw, man, I can’t believe this. This is awesome.”

  “What is awesome?” Marion asked the question Liza was thinking.

  “Don’t you see? Someone broke into Liza’s place and left that message in her pajamas.” In his excitement he rocked back and forth a couple of times as he spoke.

  “Who leaves messages in pajamas? A disgruntled Fruit of the Loom?” Marion asked, although she spoke affectionately because she was looking at Puck with a smile.

  “Nah. Come on, Mar. Think about it. What better place to leave a message than the pajamas of an unsuspecting schoolteacher?” he said.

  “Anywhere on the planet,” Marion replied, then giggled when Puck drew her onto his lap and bit her neck.

  Liza looked away and fought back the sudden sting of tears. Such a simple, loving gesture, but one Dirk had never performed with her. In fact, she had never sat in his lap, and she didn’t remember him ever touching her in a way that would make her giggle. This was why they never double dated with Puck and Marion. Not only because it was difficult to imagine stable and conscientious Dirk spending the evening with someone named “Puck” but also because it would be a glaring example of all that was lacking in their relationship--the causal intimacy, the little touches and looks. The romance.

  “Seriously, though,” Marion said, straightening. “What possible motive could someone have for leaving a message in Liza’s pajamas?”

  “That’s what makes it brilliant,” Puck said. “There is none.” The two women were looking at him in confusion. He sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you see? If you wanted to hide something, really hide it, you would put it in the least likely place. If someone was looking for that message they would search all the usual places, but they would never think to search somewhere random. It’s like instead of making your computer password the name of your dog, you make it the name of your third grade teacher’s dog. It’s so remotely connected to you that no one would ever guess it, but you’ll know what it is and why you chose it.”

  Maybe she had been spending too much time with Puck lately because he was beginning to make sense to Liza. What if someone selected her on purpose because she was random and her randomness would keep the message hidden?

  “But why write on masking tape? Why write at all? This is the digital age,” she said.

  “Maybe he’s old school, or maybe digital info is too easily hacked,” Puck suggested.

  Liza squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “That’s because we’re lacking vital information,” Marion said. “Even supposing Puck’s crazy--sorry, honey--theory is true, there is no way to figure it out with so few clues. You only have part of the what.” She tapped the tape. “Not the who, how, or why.”

  They were silent a few minutes, staring at the tape.

  Liza thought it was a hallmark of true friendship that when she told them she found tape stuck in her pajamas they quickly rejected the possibility she was insane. Puck sat up so abruptly that Marion toppled to the floor.

  “I know someone who can help.” He looked under the table and held out a hand to Marion who was rubbing her hip.

  “Who?” Liza asked.

>   “A guy I went to school with when I was a criminal justice major the first time,” he said.

  Liza wrinkled her nose. “A cop?” Her only experience with the police was with the serious and unsympathetic people who occasionally wrote her tickets for speeding.

  Puck shook his head. “He started out as a cop. He went rogue.”

  “What does that mean?” Liza asked. She pictured a man in flannel with a furry beard and a rifle slung over his shoulder, living off the land in some far-flung wilderness.

  Puck looked around and leaned in. “CIA,” he whispered.

  Liza flushed crimson with the thought of involving the CIA in a case of mistaken masking tape. “I can’t talk to someone in the CIA about this.”

  “I’m not sure he’s CIA,” Puck said. “That’s just a guess on my part. Officially he’s in the FBI and he works at the branch in town. I ran into him in the store the other day.”

  “What makes you think he’s CIA?” Marion asked. She looked vaguely bored by the conversation.

  Puck shrugged. “Some things he said. The cagey look in his eyes. I don’t know, but even if he’s not, he might be able to help.”

  Liza bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll sound insane.”

  “That’s a reasonable fear,” Marion said.

  “I’ll write down his name for you. You can tell him you know me if you decide to go. It will help break the ice,” Puck said.

  “All right. Thank you,” she said with genuine gratitude. She hadn’t developed a vested interest in Puck because she believed he was temporary. But he and Marion seemed happy together, and he was unbothered by her messiness, which was a point in his favor. Still, she had seen too many of Marion’s boyfriends come and go to get attached over one act of kindness. She helped clean up the kitchen with Marion while Puck watched television.

  “What do you think it means?” Liza asked.

  “What?” Marion paused with a plate in midair, a quizzical look on her face.

  “The message. What do you think it is?”

  Marion faced forward and began scrubbing again. “Honestly, I think it’s probably the inspection code that came with the pajamas.”

  Liza shoved down her irritation. It was one of the maxims of their close friendship that they never lie to each other, but sometimes the truth was brutal.

  “Is there a way to find out?” Liza asked. Marion could be scattered at times, but she was a genius at research. There was almost nothing she couldn’t find.

  “Leave it and I’ll do some digging,” she volunteered.

  “Thanks.” Liza smiled.

  “It’s no thing,” Marion said easily. She smiled, too. There was nothing she liked better than research, even if it did turn out to be an inspection code.

  Somehow after the dishes were done Liza convinced Marion to go for a run with her. Rather, Liza ran while Marion walked a few steps and then bent over to staunch a stitch in her side. Liza knew better than to lecture her about her poor physical condition, but it worried her nonetheless. Should she really be winded by the time they reached the mailbox?

  “Leave me,” Marion said dramatically. She paused to lean against Liza’s car, the car that was parked directly in front of her house.

  “Oh come on,” Liza said impatiently. She grasped Marion’s wrist to urge her forward. “You don’t even have to walk fast. I’ll jog in place beside you, all right?”

  “All right,” Marion agreed reluctantly. “But I don’t see how you can run on a full stomach.”

  “A full stomach?” Liza echoed. “We ate an hour ago.”

  “You’re right. I’m starving. Let’s go back and eat some more.”

  Liza laughed. “Stop being funny. I can’t run and laugh.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that was the key to making you stop?” Marion said. She proceeded to tell Liza a story about one of the library patrons that was so far-fetched Liza was sure she had made it up. But it had the desired effect. Now Liza was the one bent over in the street panting for breath and clutching a stitch in her side.

  “Can I go now?” Marion asked.

  Liza nodded and waved her away. When she fully regained lung capacity after her convulsive laughter, she set off again and ran for an hour to make up for missing the previous day. She ducked her head in the house to yell goodbye, but didn’t go all the way in because she was wet with sweat. All she wanted now was a nice, hot shower, but when she arrived home her key once again stuck in the lock. Like yesterday she looked down and noticed the floor mat was askew. It couldn’t have been the mailman, not on a Sunday.

  When she opened the door, she knew someone was in her house. Maybe it was intuition that made her skin prickle, or maybe it was the sound of a baseball game coming from the living room. She frowned and cocked her head. A baseball game? What sort of burglar stays to watch television?

  “Hey, Babe.”

  Dirk came from the kitchen behind her. She screamed and threw her keys in the air. He studied her with an amused smirk.

  “Scared you, didn’t I?”

  “No, I’ve decided that should be our new, standard greeting and I was just testing it out.” She bent to retrieve her keys and backed away from him when she straightened and saw him advancing on her. She held up a hand. “I’m all sweaty.”

  He kept advancing, gathering her in a tight squeeze when he reached her. “Why are you all sweaty?”

  “I went running with Marion.”

  “Marion ran? Was someone chasing her with a loaded weapon?”

  She laughed. “Well, actually Marion walked twenty feet with me and then I ran alone.”

  “That sounds more like what I imagined.” He frowned as he spoke.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you ever run with me?”

  “I run like a girl.” She ran for exercise and not because she was good at it. Dirk was an athlete. The thought of him seeing her herky-jerky panting stride was embarrassing.

  “You are a girl, last time I checked. I could check again if you want.” He leaned down to kiss her and she stood on her toes to reach him, but then broke off when she caught a whiff of her own stench.

  “I’m going to grab a shower. Can you stay? I’ll cook.” She wasn’t above bribing him with food.

  He shook his head. To his credit he looked reluctant. “I’m meeting with Sal to talk business.”

  Sal was his cousin, older by five years, and a full partner in their family’s car dealership. It was a large business, one of the largest in the state, and required constant attention, or so it seemed.

  “Oh.” She rocked back on her heels in disappointment. “What are you doing here?”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Did you or did you not call in middle of the night with some sort of pajama problem? I looked through your room, but I didn’t see any coded messages.” She ignored the sarcastic bent to his tone.

  “That’s because I took it out.” She reached in her pocket and turned up empty. “Oh, I left it with Marion.”

  “You left it with Marion,” he repeated with a frown.

  “Is that a problem?” She couldn’t imagine why he would care. Most likely he thought she was crazy or desperately trying to get his attention. And she was, just not in this particular way.

  “No,” he said. He sounded resigned and she wondered why.

  All of a sudden she felt like crying. Why did things have to be so difficult between them? Why couldn’t she tell him how she felt and what she thought? Why couldn’t she ask him about his own thoughts and feelings? She peered up into his handsome face and knew why. He would never be hers, not really. He had been Scarlet’s first and she, Liza, was a place card until the next stunning woman came along. She was nothing more than a seat filler.

  “Liza, what’s wrong?” he asked with unnatural tenderness. He used his thumbs to wipe away the beginning of her tears.

  “Would you sit on the couch and hold me a few minutes?” she asked shyly. She had never presumed to make
such a bold request before.

  “Sure,” he agreed. He was looking at her strangely. He sat on the couch and jumped slightly in surprise when she plopped into his lap and burrowed her face against his neck.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” He gently stroked his hand down her hair.

  Her heart both melted and broke. It had never been like this between them before. She had never revealed her need for him so blatantly, and she was stunned by his instant reciprocation.

  She shook her head and let her tears fall freely, silently. If only it could always be like this. If only they were truly together and she could feel confident in his love for her, in her power to hold onto him. But she didn’t have any of those assurances. She only had this one moment, and all too soon it was over.

  They sat quietly, melded together while she cried and he held her, and then his phone rang. He sighed and released her.

  “It’s Sal. I’m late and I need to go.” His hand stopped its slow descent on her head. He framed her face with his hands and pushed her gently back so he could see her. “Will you be all right?” She nodded. “Call if you need me and I’ll come back.”

  She smiled and nodded, but she didn’t believe him. After all, she needed him now and he was going away.

  He kissed her, and it was a new sort of kiss; both tender and urgent. It started to build until he abruptly broke away.

  “You make it difficult for me to leave sometimes,” he said. He kissed her forehead and then he left, taking care to lock the door behind him.

  “But you always do,” she said cynically, and then she put her face in her hands and wept.

  Chapter 4

  Liza remained on the couch for a long time after Dirk left, sniffling and feeling sorry for herself. Outside it was warm, but inside she felt sad and lonely. When she finally went to her room, she wanted the comfort and warmth of her flannel pajamas. But when she searched, she couldn’t find them anywhere.

  She sat on the edge of the bed looking around in consternation. Had Dirk taken them? No, he had nothing in his hands when he left. Besides, he would have told her. He knew they were her favorite. That left two options: either the person who put the message there came back for them, or the person the message was intended for picked them up. Her fist pressed to her forehead. Was she losing her mind? Believing that strangers were trading messages in her pajamas was akin to believing faeries stole socks from the washing machine. There had to be some logical explanation she was missing. Her mind refused to accept the outlandish facts in front of her. She was emotionally overwrought and bored, that was all.