Free The Christine Murders by Regina Fagan

totally compatible with. But since it didn’t seem likely that was going to happen any time soon, she had resigned herself to being alone. “Believe me, Billy. As bad as it might seem to you, sometimes there’s a lot to be said for being alone.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
    FRIDAY – OCTOBER 14 th
     
    Christine woke earlier than she’d hoped to, having slept badly.
    The morning was foggy and cold, yet in spite of her fatigue, she dressed and drove down to the waterfront to run before breakfast. The vigorous exercise always helped when she was upset. Afterwards, with her cheeks tingling and her body shivering from the bone chill of the fog, she was nonetheless more optimistic about the day ahead.
    She needed something to keep her mind off last night’s telephone conversation with Ted. He had insisted on seeing her again, but Christine had refused. Still, she knew she hadn’t heard the last of him yet. He was becoming more forceful about having his way. He wasn’t the kind of man who would accept their breakup without a struggle.
    She prepared a breakfast of coffee and croissants and was enjoying her second cup when the phone rang – a distinctive three fast beeps, indicating it was coming from the lobby office. Knowing it could only be Ray downstairs, she picked up the call. “Hello, Ray, how are you?”
    “Fine, Miss Lindsey, Good Morning,” the building manager answered. “I have a delivery of flowers down here for you. May I bring them up?”
    Flowers again. Ted, of course. Would this ever stop? “Yes, Ray, please do, thank you,” she said. How in the world was she going to get her message across to this guy? Ted simply didn’t understand the meaning of no.
    ***
    The flowers, a huge exquisite display of pink and red roses arranged in a Waterford crystal vase, had come from the priciest florist in the city. Even for Ted, the entire gift seemed over the top and Christine was stunned. Now, damn it all, she would have to call him again to thank him; she couldn’t ignore something like this. Or could she? She shook her head, thinking how many women – or men like Billy – would be overjoyed getting a beautiful display like this. Why couldn’t she meet a man she really loved, someone she could fall head over heels in love with?
    She put the flowers on her coffee table. They were beautiful. Then she slipped the little card from the bouquet envelope and stared in disbelief at the message: “Welcome home, lovely Christine. Looking forward to seeing you again. Please call me. Love, Luther”
    She read the note several times. Certainly, this was a joke. Bill – it had to be Bill. He always loved a good joke. But no! He would never do a thing like this, go out and spend a small fortune on something he knew would very much upset her. Bill would never do this.
    Luther Ross-Wilkerson. The man was either crazy or terribly desperate. And what a fool she had been to leave her number for him. Once supplied with that listed number, it had been a simple matter for him, or anyone these days, to find her address on line.
    What was she supposed to do now? Call Luther and thank him? That would only encourage further familiarity from him. Maybe she could call the florist and ask them to pick up the display and take it back. The roses perfumed her entire apartment. The display was an extravagant gift, much too extravagant, and Christine resented this total stranger’s boldness and arrogance in sending such a thing to her.
    His next call came early in the evening.
    “Ah, Christine, you are home. I really thought I’d hear from you. I expect you’ve received my flowers? How are they? I wanted the best for you.” His voice was smooth, his tone self-confident and smug.
    Trying her hardest to hold back her anger, Christine forced herself to be calm. She despised confrontations, but something had to be done about Luther. “The roses in the very expensive crystal vase? Yes, I have them here. And I have to say this is a very expensive,