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sink and shoved his head under the tap.
    It burned my hand which suggested it was even worse running over his thinning hair and down the back of his neck. He struggled to get free and I slammed his head into the faucet a couple of times in an effort to hold him under the stream of scalding water.
    “Ahhh, ahhh, God damn it, please, stop, please, please,” he screamed from beneath the faucet.
    I pulled his head back then released my grip on his arm. As he staggered back his skin appeared scarlet from the water. He might have even gained a blister or two. He fell to his knees, then slowly slouched onto the ground, gasping.
    “I’ll sue your miserable ass off you son-of-a…”
    I reached into the sink, grabbed an aluminum pan and back handed him across the side of his face. The pan made a dull sort of gong noise which I thought sounded rather appropriate.
    “Now, see what you made me do, Renee. God, how typical of my classless kind. And, I’m usually such a nice guy. I’m gonna suggest to Danielle, you remember Danielle, you told her you were good for the fifty-grand you borrowed. I’m going to tell her not to take the legal route. I’m going to tell her that won’t work with you. I’m going to give her the names of a couple of guys and they’re going to come visit you. They won’t be as nice as me, Renee. So, if I were you, I’d give Danielle a call and work something out, something a little better than your damn insurance benefits and ‘your word as your bond’ . If you haven’t called her by this time tomorrow, well, all bets are off. Nice chatting. Don’t worry. I’ll let myself out. Catch you later,” I said. I tossed the frying pan back into the sink and left him there in a steaming puddle on the floor.
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
    “That’s what he called you? A muscle bound clown? That’s not very nice.” Danielle held her wine glass out to be refilled. She sat facing me with her legs curled up beneath her. She seemed oblivious to how very short her little black skirt was and I certainly didn’t intend to tell her.
    We sat together on an incredibly comfortable leather couch opposite a warm roaring fire. The fireplace was surrounded by an elegantly carved white marble mantle and glazed Victorian tiles. There were real Tiffany stained glass lamps on little antique tables at either end of the couch, and a large oriental rug about two inches thick covered the polished oak floor between us and the fireplace. We were in the library, three of the walls were covered with walnut shelves and lots of leather bound books. Danielle had inherited the home and apparently it came with lots of inherited money.
    “I guess he’s used to getting his way and intimidating people. Somewhat of a Napoleon complex, I think. You find it from time to time in short males.” It might have been the four or five glasses of wine that had me expounding and waxing eloquent.
    She smiled, looked deep into my eyes and rubbed her hand gently up and down my arm. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt,” she said. She ran her finger back and forth along my shoulder. I tried not to stare too long at her chest as she breathed excitedly. Then I heard what sounded like footsteps above us on the second floor.
    “You hear that?” I asked.
    “Ghosts.” She giggled.
    “Sounded more like footsteps.”
    “Just an old house. Happens every winter, well, and the summer too. Things creak. Glad you’re here to keep me safe,” she said. Her eyes seemed to flare and the fire crackled. “Do you think he’ll call me?” she asked and took another sip.
    “I hope so. I really don’t know any guys who we could send to threaten him. One guy, maybe, but he’s got this really high voice and no, that would be a bad idea right from the get go.”
    “What if he tries to hurt me? What if he breaks in and comes after me?” she asked.
    “I don’t believe he’s in any condition to do that. Hopefully, you’ll get a phone call tomorrow. I don’t