Honeymoon Read Online Free

my
     
girlfriends, she said the reason he was building down in the
     
Caymans was probably so he could keep his eye on the
     
money he was hiding from the IRS there." She shook her
     
head with a convincing naïveté. "I mean, I don't want to get
     
mixed up in anything I shouldn't be."
     
Brian Stewart smiled with a knowing look. "It's really
     
not as sinister as you may think. You'd be surprised at how
     
many people have offshore accounts."
     
"Really?"
     
He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. "Guilty as
     
charged," he whispered. He picked up his champagne glass.
     
"We'll make that our secret, okay?"
     
Nora picked up her glass, and the two of them clinked.
     
Brian Stewart was shaping up to be someone she might
     
want to get to know better.
     
"To secrets," she said.
     
"To stackers," he said.
     
     
----
Chapter 39
     
"WHAT CAN I GET for you?" she asked.
     
I looked up at the flight attendant -- tired, bored to
     
tears, trying to be nice anyway. She and her drink cart had
     
finally made it back to me. "I'll have a Diet Coke," I said.
     
"Oh, I'm sorry, I ran out of those about ten rows ago."
     
"How about ginger ale?"
     
Her eyes darted around the open cans on top of the
     
cart. "Hmmm," she muttered. She bent down and began
     
pulling out one drawer after another. "I'm sorry, no ginger
     
ale, either."
     
"Why don't we try this the other way around," I said
     
with a forced smile. "What do you have left?"
     
"Do you like tomato juice?"
     
Only with a lot of vodka and a celery stalk sticking out
     
of it. "Anything else?"
     
"I've got one Sprite."
     
"Not anymore, you don't."
     
It took her a second to realize that was my way of saying
     
"yes, please."
     
She poured about half of the Sprite and handed it over
     
with a small bag of pretzels. As she wheeled the cart off I
     
held up my plastic cup. If I squinted enough at the bubbles,
     
it almost looked like the champagne Nora was probably
     
drinking up in first class.
     
I popped a minipretzel into my mouth and tried to move
     
my legs. Wishful thinking. With my tray table down, they
     
were wedged in from every angle. Complete loss of circula-
     
tion to all lower extremities was only a matter of time.
     
Yes, indeed. It was right about then that I realized what
     
the common thread of this assignment was so far. In a word,
     
cramped.
     
Cramped office, cramped apartment, cramped seat in
     
the last row of coach that had me breathing in the odors of
     
the cramped bathroom directly over my shoulder.
     
Not that all was lost.
     
The one good thing about tailing people on an airplane
     
is that you never have to worry about losing them during
     
the flight. At 35,000 feet, no one is about to slip out the side
     
door.
     
I glanced up at the royal blue curtain way, way, way
     
down the aisle. While the odds fell somewhere between
     
slim and none that Nora would have any reason to venture
     
back and mingle with us poor slobs in coach, I still had to
     
stay on my toes.
     
Not that I could feel them anymore.
     
Earlier at the Westchester airport, I was sure Nora hadn't
     
spotted me before the flight. Well, she might have seen me,
     
but for sure, she didn't recognize me. Besides my Red Sox
     
baseball cap, dark glasses, jogging suit, and gold chain, I'd
     
broken out the fake mustache. Throw in a
Daily News
that
     
was never farther away than twelve inches from my face and
     
I'd pretty much cornered the market on incognito.
     
No, Nora had no idea she had company on the flight.
     
That much I knew. Of course, what I didn't know was the
     
question of the day.
     
What's in Boston?
     
     
----
Chapter 40
     
I FOLLOWED NORA and her smart little suitcase on
     
wheels down an escalator and past the baggage claim area.
     
As always, she looked good, front and rear view. She had
     
this way of walking -- and a great smile when she needed
     
it. She never once looked up at a sign