Page 104 of Call Me Anytime
“Oh yeah, I do remember him. He was actually really sweet.”
“Well, his wife called in the other day with a very interesting request for Monica,” she explains. “It’s their anniversary, and she’s planning this sexy, special evening for him and wants Mon to meet them at the Swan at ten o’clock tonight dressed to the nines.”
“They want her to meet them at the Swan?” The Swan is a fancy-schmancy hotel in downtown Nashville. If you’re staying there, you’re shelling out four figures a night. “Nice digs, but that sounds a little sketch.”
“Well, the amount of money they offered her is so much that I don’t think I would’ve passed it up either.”
“Wait ...” I pause and furrow my brow. “So she’s doing it?”
“Hell yeah, she’s doing it!” Lana exclaims. “Six figures, Han. Of course she’s doing it. She’d be crazy not to. Plus, she doesn’t even have to do anything crazy besides watch them have sex and, like, say sexy things to them while they do it.”
A rock of uncertainty sits heavy in my gut. “When is she doing this?”
“Tonight,” Lana answers. “She’s probably getting ready for her little voyeur gig as we speak.”
“I don’t know if this is—”
“Oh, shit! I gotta go!” Lana exclaims in a rush. “Cullen decided to take a Sharpie to the wall. I’ll text you about Wednesday! Kisses!” And then she’s gone.
Immediately, I tap the screen of my phone and pull up my texts with Monica to send her a message.
Me:Call me asap. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the Swan tonight.
I stare at the screen, waiting for a response, but before a new text comes in, my mom scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
“Ziva!” she shouts, even though she’s standing not even two feet away from me now. “We gotta figure out this case,” she says and begins to pace in front of me. “I talked to Tony earlier today about looking into the PI that investigated the victim.” She pauses to look over at me. “Did you investigate him?”
“Uh ...” I hesitate, silently racking my brain to see if I have a clue what episode she’s referring to. I can tell by the darkness coming from the windows that it’s already nearing night outside, and generally speaking, this is the riskiest time for my mom.
On more than one occasion, I’ve gotten the case details wrong and she’s spiraled into anxiety and paranoia.
“Ziva?” she questions, putting both hands to her hips. “Did you talk to the PI?”
“Not yet,” I answer, hoping it’s just neutral enough to calm her. “But I’m going to meet with him tomorrow. Already know where to find him.”
“Good.” My mom nods. “Very good, Ziva.”
“You hungry?” I ask, nodding toward the big bowl of potato soup and bread that Lovie made.
My mom nods again and I glance to my phone to see if Monica has texted me back before grabbing another bowl and ladling soup into it.
I put my mom’s in the microwave, and she sits down on the barstool to watch.
“When you talk to that PI tomorrow, you should probably ask him more about the wives,” she says, her fingers fiddling with a leftover napkin.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, opening the cutlery drawer to pull out a spoon. “Why’s that?”
“Because of what Tony always says.”
I quirk a brow.
“Oh, c’mon, Ziva!” She hoots and smacks her hand down onto the counter. “You know what Tony says.” She rolls her eyes on another laugh. “‘Always suspect the wife.’ Tony even said he thought that today when we were talking about the case at the kitchen table.”
My brain buffers over the whole “talking to Tony at the kitchen table today” comment, but before I can fixate on it, another comment resonates in my head—always suspect the wife.
Instantly, Lana’s words fill my head. “It’s their anniversary, and she’s planning this sexy, special evening for him and wants Mon to meet them at the Swan at ten o’clock tonight dressed to the nines.”
Followed by Dom’s warning all those weeks ago: “No hotels. No houses. No anything that anyone invites you to on this phone line.”
