style="font-size:15px;"> Along with his phone problem, he’d been too busy staring at the damn roses sitting on his desk. Ellen, his secretary, had brought them in sometime midmorning. When he’d questioned her, she’d told him they’d been delivered by a courier. As always, Conley had her tracking down the florist but he was sure the people at the shop would say the same thing each florist did. The flowers had been ordered over the phone and paid for with cash mailed in advance. Sorry, they had no record of the sender.
He usually sent the bouquets immediately to the retirement home down the road, unable to stand the sight of their bloodred petals but he’d kept them this time to show Ed and Lara. The one word note lay on his desk, the four letters blinking up at him almost evilly.
Soon…
With a start, he realized the translator was talking again. He’d completely lost track. Interrupting the woman, he stopped her in midword.
“Look,” he said, “I’m not going to solve this problem like this, okay? I can’t come myself, but I’ll send someone. Tell them—”
At the other end of the line, his Azeri customer started to scream. Obviously he knew more English than Conley had assumed. “No,” the man cried. “Not someone. You. Must be you. Other person, no!”
With promises he knew might be empty, Con soothed the man as much as he could, hanging up a few minutes later. He was ripping off his headset when a tap sounded on his door. The door opened and Theresa stood on the threshold, Lara and Ed right behind her.
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