The Tattered Thread

  **********

  A man came into the kitchen from the employees’ entrance and then glanced around the room. His handsome visage eagerly searched out the women congregated in the booth before him. Pausing only a moment to look at Elaine, he soon considered Chloe again as a smile came to his smooth, thin lips. “Chloe!” he said. “I heard you were back.”

  “Yes, I am. Come over here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Cameron looked at Elaine again, this time his brown eyes consuming her. Wanting to feel flattered to have his full attention, she instead felt like a frightened little girl being examined by the kind of man her mother had always warned her about. Her timidness amused him, producing dimples best described as delectably deep in both of his cheeks. He was a real knockout, much more than Elaine had expected. She’d die if he noticed how nervous she was.

  “This is the girl I told you about, Elaine Kostas,” Chloe said. “Elaine, Cameron Dmytryk.”

  Elaine shook his hand, but found that she wasn’t able to look at him for long. Her face felt hot; she just had to be blushing. The black chauffeur’s uniform with the shiny gold buttons he wore was sharply styled and neatly pressed, and its custom fit accentuated his passion for exercising. His black hat was tucked under his left arm, and he wore black leather gloves and polished leather shoes. Even his black tie was knotted perfectly.

  “How do you do?” she managed to say.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, his voice deep and intoxicating. He held her hand longer than necessary, but that was probably on purpose. When she glanced up at him, he smiled as he let her go. “Kostas. Now that has to be Greek.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Well, I’m Greek as well,” he affirmed. “But where did you get those eyes? They’re like two blue sapphires hiding behind the lightest of brown bangs.”

  “I guess I got them with my mother’s help. She’s Dutch.”

  “Greek and Dutch! Now that sounds like a dangerous combination. I thought I saw fire in those eyes.”

  “Are you hungry, Cameron?” Tasia asked as if unaware of his flirting. Or perhaps he did it so much, she didn’t even notice anymore. Managing to gaze at her for a second, he let her know that taking his mind off the hunt was an annoyance.

  “I’m always hungry,” he said, watching Elaine again as he pulled the gloves off his hands and put them inside his jacket pocket. Tasia nodded, getting up to make a sandwich with plenty of meat.

  He sat down in the booth across from Elaine. Easing back and putting his hat in the middle of the glass table, he folded his well-muscled arms in front of a broad, well-toned chest. That was a lot to notice on a man who was fully dressed. “Tell me, Elaine,” he began, batting those thick eyelashes at her, “what is it that you do?”

  “I used to wait tables at a diner back home. But now I’m helping Chloe, Heather, and Betty keep the houses clean.”

  Tasia put a corned beef sandwich and a bottle of pop in front of him and then excused herself. Taking off the white chef’s jacket she was wearing and folding it over a chair, she didn’t seem at all interested in watching love bloom. Perhaps her hands were full handling her own affairs. As she passed, her tall chef’s hat rested on a chair by the door. It was always there, but Elaine had never seen her wear it.

  “So, have you been working as Mr. Kastenmeier’s driver for long?” Elaine asked as he took a big bite from his sandwich.

  “Two years,” he said after chewing a bit. “I’m only here because the pay is so good. Have you met Kastenmeier?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, he’s an asshole. I don’t like kissing up to assholes, but money talks. Doesn’t it?” He took another bite from his sandwich and stared at her as he chewed.

  “Who says you have to kiss up? Doing your job should be all that’s required.”

  Cameron’s expression settled into a mocking grin and he shook his head. “Hah!” he said. “When you work for Kastenmeier, doing your job is never all that he requires. If you do it right, then he changes the rules so he can have the pleasure of telling you that you don’t know what you’re doing. Am I right, Chloe?”

  Chloe didn’t answer him. Instead, she ran her fingers over the top of a salt shaker shaped like a margarita glass. A Victorian spice box made of stained oak and decorated with carved, leafy designs on the wall behind her seemed to make her complexion more golden. Despite the saintly glow, Chloe didn’t feel compelled to be honest about her assessment of Carl Kastenmeier. She elected to say nothing at all.

  Cameron raised his index finger straight up and showed it to Elaine. Tied around it was a piece of red, buttonhole thread. “Do you know what this is?” he asked her.

  “I told her about the thread already,” Chloe said. “Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

  “This,” he said, referring to the thread around his finger, “is Carl Kastenmeier’s idea of fun. It’s only used to denigrate, debase, and humiliate the wearer. If it didn’t do that, then he wouldn’t be interested in putting it on anyone.”

  “Why don’t you take it off?” Elaine suggested. The question seemed quite reasonable to her, but it even made Chloe wince.

  “Take it off?” he said. “Jeez, you are new here!”

  “Come on, Cameron,” Chloe said. “Ease up. I’ve only mentioned the thread to her once. I really haven’t had the time to explain it yet.”

  “Well, if she’s going to work for Kastenmeier, you’d damn well better take the time to explain it. Otherwise, she’ll be screwed before she even gets started here, won’t she?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Of course Detective Connery wouldn’t let Elaine go without telling him about the first time she met Carl. Now that was a day she would never forget.