Time to Say Goodbye (Michigan Sweet Romance) Page 6

  How could the man smile and laugh as he stole people’s money? The audacity, the gall to do something like that with a smile.

  The sound of liquid dribbling to the floor caught his attention. Leon stared down at the small puddle. Did a man like Kapoor deserve to be healed? Why should anyone help a man with no conscience regain any sort of semblance of a normal life?

  Leon squatted down and wiped the water up. Its residue spread over the floor. That’s what Kapoor’s scheming had done. Left a dirty film on his and his mother’s lives. Alma had sat in the chair at his house, her eyes fixed on a distant thing only she could see. He knew what it was. The specter of Devansh Kapoor.

  He stood up and leaned against the edge of the sink. Did the man have any idea what it meant for his mother to be able to invest her money into his company? It hadn’t been about greed. It had been so much more.

  Kapoor had ruined more than just their lives because of his lies.

  The phone rang and he answered it. “Yeah, Ma.” He tossed the dish towel into the sink.

  “How it go today, son?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “It went all right, Mama. Is Krause driving ya crazy yet?”

  A small laugh tickled his ear. “Naw, Krause is a good boy. Been takin’ care of me jes’ fine. The physical therapy lady is real nice, too.”

  In the background, Krause’s booming voice came through as if from a megaphone. “Boy, stop worryin’ ‘bout Mama Reckley. I done told ya I’d take care of her. You da one who done lost yer mind.”

  Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shut up, Krause.”

  “Leon, tell me.” His mother’s softer drawl came through.

  “I cain’t tell ya the particulars of the case, Ma. I already done told ya more than I shoulda with what ya know.”

  “Who we gonna tell? The newspapers?”

  “Folks don’t read the newspapers anymore, Mama.”

  “My point exactly.”

  He sighed. “It was harder than I supposed it would be. I kept wantin’ to hurt him.”

  “Ya shoulda!” Krause hollered. “Boy cain’t feel nothin’ no way!”

  “Well, I couldn’t do all that wit’ his sister standing there, now could I?” Leon retorted.

  “Betcha his sister was in on da whole thing, too!” Krause shouted again.

  “Krause, imma throw my mama’s family Bible at cha if you don’ quit all dat hollerin’ in my ear!” Alma threatened on the other end of the phone. “Now iff’n ya want to talk to Leon, ya can do so after I’m done. Act like ya got some sense ‘bout ya.”

  “If ya woulda married me when I asked ya, I woulda had some sense.”

  Leon shook his head at their shenanigans as a soft laugh escaped him. It had only been a day and a half and he missed his mother and Krause like crazy.

  “Now I know ya got about two months with dat fool before ya can leave,” Alma said. “I’ll be prayin’ for thangs to go right, ya hear me?”

  “All right, Ma.”

  Krause’s voice came over the phone although from a distance. “Ya gotta see dat fool ever’ day?”

  “No, just Monday through Thursday. The weekend’s mine to do what I want.”

  “Cool then. Mebbe me and Mama Reckley can come up dere witcha.”

  “Naw, ya ain’t. You sit your hard-headed tail right there and take care of my mama, you hear?”

  “All right, all right. Don't go gettin' a bug up yer behind over it.” A second later, Krause squealed like a girl. “Whatcha hit me for, Mama Reckley?”

  “Watch yer mouth. I ain’t havin’ no foul talkin’ in here. Now ‘memba I’ll be prayin’ for ya, boy.”

  “Yes, Ma.”

  “And I’ll be prayin’ dat fool breaks his—”

  Leon hung up the phone before he heard the rest of Krause’s statement, but he figured how Krause would have finished the sentence.

  He took a quick look at the oven timer. Ten minutes to go. In order to distract himself, he went to the master bedroom down the hall. Going through the open suitcase laying open on the bed, he picked out a couple of Humphrey Bogart movies and a few books. The glossy table and widescreen TV in the living room invited him to spend the evening. He reached for a bag of Cheetos from his stash and carried everything back down the hall.

  Snatching the remote from the coffee table, he turned on the TV and changed the channel to the financial news. He sat on the couch and dropped everything else on the cushion besides him. Grabbing the Cheetos, he tore the bag open and started to lift one towards his mouth but froze when he heard the name ‘Kapoor.’ He dropped the snack back into the bag and reached for the TV remote, increasing the volume.

  “Three years have passed since former CEO of Kapoor Investments, Devansh Kapoor, was sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment. Once an up-and-coming member of the elite group of individuals cresting the wave of Detroit’s financial rehabilitation, Kapoor now occupies a one-bedroom cell in a minimum-security prison.” Pictures of Kapoor in business suits transformed into ones that showed the convict wearing the khaki prison uniform.

  “Kapoor embezzled more than thirteen million dollars out of investor’s funds, money he used to maintain the façade of a successful investment advisor. Many who thought they knew Kapoor described him as outgoing, friendly, and a devout religious man. No one suspected that beneath the mask lurked the cunning mind of a con man bent on keeping up appearances.”

  Leon gnashed the inside of his mouth. It stung and he tasted the coppery, salty tang of his blood. Pieces of conversation he’d had with Alma surfaced. It was several years ago when she told him about investing into a fund.

  “I met the nicest Indian man. Got experience in handlin’ money,” she’d told him. “I’m thinkin’ about puttin’ my savin’s with ‘im. He says in a few years or so, I’ll be able ta buy me and yer pa’ the dream home we been wantin’.”

  “Gargi Kapoor,” the reporter went on, “the woman behind the man.” A picture of Kapoor’s sister came onto the screen. The high definition quality of the picture showed her eyes were the color of dark chocolate. They gleamed with an almost secretive look. It contrasted with a fresh, girlish scrub of innocence along her cheeks. Her polished lips stretched in a wide, blinding smile dominating the screen.

  “Described by many as beautiful, demure, and supportive, many placed their funds in Kapoor’s keeping based on her reassurance. By far Kapoor Investments’ best salesperson.”

  “Demure?” Leon grunted. “Nothing demure about her at all.”

  “A former representative for Epic Cosmetics, Gargi Kapoor left the modeling scene in order to assist her brother in his new venture. Many have speculated she knew about the fraud, but police and other officials were unable to produce any evidence to substantiate the claim.”

  A publicity photo with Gargi modeling eyeliner or whatever came up. The picture on the screen showed off her creamy chocolate-malt skin. Her smile had a playful edge to it, and her long hair covered her shoulders. He found himself comparing the still image on the screen to the ones in his mind.

  At the hospital, minute worry lines had crinkled her forehead. No upward tilt of her mouth brightened her face. In fact, the only thing he’d seen of her teeth was the snarl she gave before her miserable attempt to jump him. The glittering dark chocolate eyes was the one constant in the still image on the screen and of the woman he’d met today.

  The timer on the oven beeped. He tossed the bag of Cheetos onto the table and went to the kitchen to extract the shepherd’s pie from the hot grasp of the oven. It sizzled as he placed the dish on top of the stove. Its savory scent punctured the air. He rolled his shoulders, determined not think about the Kapoors anymore.

  It was already bad enough he’d have to see them again. He didn’t have to let them ruin his night, too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gargi absently fingered the corner of the money order. Four hundred dollars, and not a penny of it went to her. It would be deposited into her brother�
�s account. A day or so later, the funds would be siphoned out to some ‘poor victim’ as part of her brother’s restitution ordered by the court.

  How in the world would Dev even begin to pay back a twenty-million-dollar restitution when he only earned pennies a day? Did the court really expect him to, or was it just a way to placate the victims?

  “I hope you’re satisfied. I hope you’re all very satisfied.” The words filled the silence of her sparsely decorated office on the second floor of the house. She sighed, and dragged her restless fingers through her unruly hair. A glance at the computer monitor reflected her distorted image. Gargi grimaced. That’s what her whole life felt like. A surreal reality. At times, she prayed she’d just wake up from this nightmare.

  The gavel from that day three years ago flashed in her mind. Everything had changed the day the mallet fell. Before then, hope sustained her. Hope, and the belief God wouldn’t permit her brother to take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit.

  But He had.

  On that day, she’d said goodbye to her foolish thoughts of optimism. Goodbye to the idea of a happily ever after ending. Goodbye to her child-like faith in a God who answered prayers.

  A warm flush doused her cheeks. She hated where her thoughts had led—down this path of doubt and weakness of faith. You shouldn’t ever question God, her pastor had told her many years ago. Never let those insidious thoughts of why God would allow these things to happen ever take a foothold in your mind. Just know that God works in mysterious ways.

  Over and over in the past three years, sometimes consciously, sometimes not, in the middle of the day, or the darkest part of night, that question which she’d been taught never to ask blared like a siren.

  Why did bad things happen to good people?

  Especially someone like Dev, who gave of himself over and over. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for a neighbor, a friend, a church member. Even some of their relatives back home had benefited from his generosity. When everything blew up all the good wishes and charms had dried up like mangos left out in the sun.

  Along with his conviction, he now had to fight a disease just beginning to get public notice. The little research she’d done only worked to alarm her further. Though the antibiotics Dr. Manchester administered may have some effect, there wasn’t any guarantee they’d work for the rest of his life. The disease, due to its length of incubation, would have mutated and altered her brother’s DNA.

  A chill skittered down her back. “Dear Lord,” she whispered in the quiet.

  It reminded her of the people she had once trusted. With Dev’s arrest, their hidden nature had come to light in the wake of their familial devastation.

  The duplicity of people had initially made her weep every single night after the scandal had broken. Hateful phone calls, virulent text messages, and heated confrontations with former friends had perforated her sense of self-worth with the razor-sharp incisors of public indignation. She’d almost avoided leaving the house, as each day brought a new victim to their door.

  “Silly girl,” she snorted. Why rehash the past? What’s done was done.

  With effort, she wrenched away from those awful days. It was better to focus on the here and now.

  A brisk breeze blew through the window. She closed her eyes and basked in its delightful chill. Cold air had never bothered her, even as a child. Sure, she’d succumb to the elements like anyone else but, unlike a lot of people, cold air calmed her.

  What could she do to get more money for Dev? There had to be something.

  She opened her eyes and tapped the mouse to bring the computer to life. Clicking on the keyboard, she logged into her bank account. The balance showed an abysmal six thousand dollars, which was all she had of her savings from the past seven years. At one time, the account had boasted well over a million dollars. The bulk of her savings from her time with Epic Cosmetics as one of their models.

  However, she’d burned her bridges when she left to help Dev with Kapoor Investments. Even now, she didn’t regret leaving the company behind. The world of modeling had its dark underside, in spite of the growing trend to embrace all forms of beauty. Epic Cosmetics had been good to her and those few women she called friend at one point or another, but when Dev needed her she left without a backward glance.

  She picked up the money order again and flicked the edge with her forefinger.

  Three years passed before she received her first paycheck. She’d bided her time as Dev built his business, but the rewards had been worth the wait. When the company made a profit of a hundred thousand in the first month of the second quarter, Dev had lifted and whirled her around in his arms.

  “We’re on our way, chhotee bahan.” He grinned, setting her down.

  Her head a little woozy from the sudden spin, she nonetheless grinned back. “Haan, bhaii.” She patted his shoulders. “Think how much we can help people with their finances.”

  His chestnut-brown eyes shone with excitement. “People need to be educated, Gargi, about how to use their money so they don’t have to live paycheck to paycheck. We’ll empower them to leave a legacy for their children. We can do so much.”

  Their dream floated before them like a golden sun to brighten their world.

  Now, the dream had been reduced to paying a bunch of liars.

  “Let’s do another round.”

  Leon’s gravelly drawl intruded on her reflections. She couldn’t determine whether it was a good or bad thing, but she allowed her mind to drift away from its mental anxiety to the disturbing presence of the man in her home.

  Despite their mutual hostility, Leon maintained a professional persona. He arrived on time every day, and went through the appropriate exercises set forth in the plan approved by the attending physician. Dev had yet to show any improvement at all. Not that Gargi expected anything within the first week.

  She trusted Leon Reckley as much as she could lift him over her shoulder. Once he completed his initial assessment of Dev’s physical condition from the day before, he began a round of motions meant to stimulate nerves and keep the muscles in use. After a series of repetitions, he massaged the muscles he’d just worked with those chunky fingers of his.

  Thick. Burly. Ample. Those words described Leon to a ‘T.’ She’d met many men in her life from her time as a model with Epic Cosmetics, those who were also investors, employees, and former family friends with Kapoor Investments. Tall, well-groomed men with clean-shaven faces. Short, paunchy men with bald heads. Intellectuals with slim builds. Many more in between.

  When Rahul Khatri had come into her life, all other men besides her father and brother had disappeared from view. When he left her life, all men except her father and brother had become an infectious disease to avoid at any cost.

  Yet, Leon Reckley left an unshakable impression upon her

  It had nothing to do with a lack of physical attractiveness. Leon had a rough allure. Clad in a humdrum company uniform of a burgundy polo and a pair of khaki pants, the outfit failed to subdue a sense of tamed wildness lingering beneath the surface of competence.

  Whenever their gazes collided, which happened more often than she wished, the dark gold of his eyes reminded her of a lion. The deep reddish hair along his arms and the mane of red-gold atop his head gave substance to her imagination.

  His beard, if she were being honest with herself, drew her admiration the most. She liked men with beards. Rahul hadn’t worn one, but she’d love him so she excused the flaw.

  Despite the fact Leon Reckley had a beard, and a nice one, he wasn’t for her. If men could come to order, Rahul was and had been the one she’d take home. No one could match him.

  Pain sliced through her finger. She glanced down at the sliver of skin separated by the knife-like edge of the money order. The laceration stung.

  “Silly girl.” She set the check on the table and sucked on her finger. Why did a paper cut hurt so bad? The cut smarted again, and she jumped up from her chair and shook her hand frantically
. Where were the Band-aids?

  “Gargi, we’re done!” Dev called from downstairs.

  Groaning, she made her way downstairs.

  Gargi entered the living room and walked into the bubble of tension enveloping herself and Leon. She felt it every time they occupied the same vicinity. An almost a tangible press of awareness she fought to ignore. Leon sat on the edge of the in-laid shelf above the cubby hole along the far wall, making notations in a folder. Dev sat in the chair, his head tilted to the side.

  “How’d it go?” She squatted next to Dev.

  “It went,” he muttered. “Nothing yet.”

  She patted his arm and rubbed it. “You will. Soon you will. Then the hard part will be done.”

  Her sore finger throbbed again, and she winced.

  Dev’s brow creased. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She pulled a face. “Just a paper cut. I’ll never understand how something so small can cause that much pain.” She sucked again on the cut but froze when she heard,

  “My mother’s worthless Chihuahua, Bugsy, did that. You remind me of him a lot.”

  The silence rumbled with the ferocity of a storm. Kapoor and Gargi’s faces slackened in shock. Leon never wished as much as he did then to reach into the air and stuff the words back down his throat.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “You liken my sister to a dog?” Kapoor’s eye twitched.

  “Of course not.” Leon got up from his seat. “It came out wrong.”

  “Did it?” Gargi stood in a fluid, graceful motion. “How else should I interpret I remind you of your mother’s worthless Chihuahua, Bugsy? As a compliment?” Her voice squeaked like a mouse.

  “Yes. I-I-mean, no.” Could he shove his foot in his mouth even further?

  “Newsflash, laal sher, being compared to a dog is not a term of endearment.”

  Did she just call me ‘Lyle’?

  He opened his mouth to question her when she added, “Most women don’t like to be referred to as a female dog, much less a male one.”