An hour later the police had arrived, taken their report and gone. Bosley had poured two cups of coffee and took one over to Sabrina, sitting beside her on the couch. She'd been sitting there while the police were questioning her.
She took a small sip and leaned back against the headrest. "That's strange," she said reflectively.
"What, the coffee?"
"No. I went to make a list of what's missing."
"And?"
"I couldn't find anything."
"Maybe you interrupted them before they got what they wanted."
"Maybe," she said thoughtfully. "I still can't figure out what they'd want, though."
"I don't like this," he said, frowning. He thought for a minute. "Pack a bag."
"Why?"
"You're staying with me."
"No, I'm not," she protested.
"Then we'll find you someplace safe to stay," Bosley said reasonably.
"This is my home and I won't be scared away," Sabrina stated firmly.
"Bri, be realistic. They didn't find what they were looking for, so they'll be back."
"So? I can take care of myself."
"Like the last time?" He pointed out.
She stood up, slamming the coffee cup on the table. "That was a cheap shot," she snapped, hurt evident in her voice.
He sat her down again and put his arm across her shoulders. "It wasn't meant to be. I just mean that they could sneak up on you or ambush you. I know you can defend yourself. You can fight better than most men I know. I just don't want to see you getting hurt. Okay?" After a minute he said, "I have an idea. I'll take you out to lunch, anywhere you want."
"Don't change the subject," she warned, eyes narrowing in anger.
He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Look, Bri, I care about you and I worry about you. Sue me! That's what friends do. I'm only concerned for your safety."
"Thank you for being concerned, but you don't have to be." She closed her eyes as the stress was getting to her. "Maybe we do need a vacation."
"That's the spirit!" He exclaimed, relieved that she seemed to be coming around.
"We'd have to find a place where no one would find us."
He smiled. "I know the perfect place."
"Where?"
"That's a secret. I have to check it out first. I'd hate to tell you to find out it's not doable. Now, let's eat. I'm starved."
"You mean you're not going to tell me?" She asked in disbelief.
"Not now. Maybe later on."
"If I guess would you tell me?" She pressed. She hated not knowing what was going on.
"You'd never guess, but I will give you a hint. It's not Charlie's."
"Oh," she said defeatedly. She racked her brains and couldn't think of anything else that would make him so mysterious.
"Come on, pack," he urged, smiling. "The more I think about it, the more I like it."
She stood up and looked at him, deciding to try a different tact. "I just want you to know that I'm going to go crazy wondering where this place is. Sure you won't reconsider?"
"Positive."
She sighed in resignation and walked into the bedroom.
He looked after her, making sure she was out of earshot, then picked up the telephone and made a quick call.
An hour later they were driving along the freeway.
Finally she could stand it no longer. "John Bosley, would you please tell me where we're going or do I have to beat it out of you?"
He chuckled. "Okay, okay! You don't have to use brute force."
She glared at him, arms folded across her chest, waiting expectantly.
"You ever hear of Jonathan Hart?" He asked casually.
"Who hasn't? Hart Industries, Hart Shipping Lines - " she broke off.
"That's it."
"That's it?" She repeated in disbelief. "Where on earth do you know Jonathan Hart from?" From what she knew of the Harts they were almost like royalty.
"We were in the navy together."
"You were in the navy?" This was just too weird. If she didn't know better she'd think he was pulling her leg.
"You sound surprised," he commented dryly. "That was before he became the Jonathan Hart."
She leaned against the headrest, head spinning. "Jonathan Hart," she repeated, dazed. "They don't mind?"
"Not at all. I haven't seen the Hart's in ages."
"The Hart's?"
"Jonathan and Jennifer. You'll like them. They're great people."
"I have a question. How do we catch these burglars if we go into hiding?" She asked pointedly.
"We're not going to stay in hiding. This is only until we figure out what they want. While I'm packing you can call Charlie and fill him in," he explained reasonably.
"You know, I wish you would have told me where we were going earlier. I would have packed some nicer clothes." Her mind was focussing on everything at once.
"Please! All your clothes are great. Did you pack a dress?"
"Why?" She asked apprehensively.
"You look great in a dress," he answered honestly.
That was definitely not the answer she expected and she blushed. "Thank you."
"Any time. Don't worry. Anything you don't have we can buy later on."
"Okay," she settled comfortably in her seat. "Do you think if they'd mind if I took a picture of them?"
"I don't think so. There's only one way to find out."
"Would you ask him for me?" She was definitely nervous about this meeting.
"I've never known you to be shy before," he teased.
"Come on, please?" She pleaded.
"All right, all right. For you I'll ask."
"Thank you."
They pulled up in front of Bosley's apartment building. He parked the car in the garage and they both went upstairs. He opened the front door. "I won't be long," he said, heading into the bedroom.
"I have an idea," she said. "Why don't I pack for you and you can call Charlie?"
"What difference does it make who calls him?" He asked in surprise.
"I don't really feel like talking about everything right now. Besides, I want to pack some decent clothes for you."
He drew himself up, affronted. "I beg your pardon."
"You can't wear just anything to Jonathan Hart's."
He stared at her, eyebrows rising. This was carrying things too far.
"You know what I mean," she explained hastily. "You men will wear anything. You have to look nicer than you usually do."
"You got out of that one by the skin of your teeth," he remarked.
She smiled. "I know. Come on. Besides, I like to pack."
"I never met a woman who had that particular fetish."
She hurried off into the bedroom before he could change his mind.
He picked up the telephone, shaking his head, and dialed a number. "Hi, Charlie."
"Bosley! How did things go with the police?"
"Fine."
"Were you able to discover what was missing from Sabrina's apartment?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? That doesn't make sense."
"I know. We're going to disappear for a few days. We'll be staying with Jonathan and Jennifer Hart."
"You'll be gone for about a week then?"
"I doubt it. More like three or four days, just until we get things straightened out."
"All right, then. Call me if you need anything."
"We'll talk to you later." He hung up the telephone, then went to the bar to mix two martini's. "You almost done in there?" He called out.
"Almost," Sabrina replied.
He poured the martini's and brought them over to the table. He sat on the couch and took an appreciative sip.
She came out a few seconds later, struggling with his suitcase.
"Leave that where it is," he instructed, not wanting her to strain herself. "Here. I made you a drink."
She took a glass, sitting on the chair next to the couch. She took a sip, then gasped. "Isn't that a bit strong?"
"You think so?" He asked innocently.
"Uh huh," she took a few deep breaths.
He took another sip of his. "I don't think it's that strong. You're just not used to a martini mixed properly."
She took another cautious sip. "This could take the paint off the wall. I tell you, a few of these could make you forget anything."
He smiled. "Can I fix you something else?"
"No, thanks. You shouldn't be drinking that, either. Not if you're driving."
"Just this one won't hurt. You sure I can't get you anything else?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
"What did you pack?"
"Some nice shirts, a few pairs of pants, one suit, socks, underwear, a razor - you know, the usual things."
He leaned over and stared at her in surprise. "What do I need a suit for?"
"In case we go to a formal dinner."
"You're taking this too far," he chided.
"You never know." She wanted to be prepared for anything.
He finished his drink. "You ready to go?"
"Are you sure you're able to drive?"
"Bri, relax! Why are you so nervous?"
"I guess it's the excitement of everything."
"Look, Jonathan Hart is just a man. He puts his pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else. There's an old trick you can try if you're nervous. Imagine him in his underwear."
She laughed. "His underwear?"
"Sure. It's guaranteed to make you relax."
"It's not that. Trying to figure out what those burglars wanted is driving me crazy!"
"Don't worry about it. It'll come to you eventually. Come on, the Hart's are waiting. I'll take the bag downstairs and you can wash the glasses. I'll meet you downstairs."