Marked Masters

by Ritter Ames

  No, that doesn't make sense. The shouting definitely had to be between coworkers at the site.

  As I stood waiting for my cab beside the harbor master's office, I contemplated my next move. It was too early to show up to the fête. I wondered if Nico was in town yet. A second later I knew for sure.

  "I just got off my flight from New York" was his proffered greeting when he answered my phone call. I could picture his stern look when he added, "And no, I have nothing yet on the numbers. They seem to be a complete enigma."

  "My first question was actually to ask why you'd suddenly decided to buddy up with Jack."

  He said a few choice words in Italian before responding, "Why would I align myself with him? He is in Max's pocket now."

  Okay, this was as I suspected, but I needed confirmation before I trusted only my instincts. "Sorry, Nico, I knew better. Things have simply gone sideways a little too often lately, and it's left me off-balance." Then I told him the facts relating to the resurfacing of the fabled snuffbox. "I'm supposed to pick it up today, but my cab should arrive any minute, and I plan to shoot over to Tina's condo and try to get it ahead of schedule."

  "You don't think it still has…well, you know."

  Yes, I did know. And I appreciated his discretion. "My first thought would be no, but Simon is nothing if not an egotist. If he was actually selling what was hidden inside, instead of the snuffbox, and that's why he wanted Tina to hold it here in Miami, the object could still have exactly what Jack purports it was drafted into transporting. That's my hope anyway."

  A yellow cab pulled up to the curb at the end of the harbor master's office and honked. "There's my ride. I'll meet you at the Browning event after I see Tina, then we can decide if we want to guard the snuffbox as a team or send you back to London with it ahead of me. You do have the foundation's passes to get us in today, right?"

  "I live to serve."

  "I'll take that as a yes and not just sarcasm." I smiled. He really was good at what he did. I wanted to talk to him about Woman Dressing Her Hair when we had the time. There was just something… The thought simply wouldn't come forward. I probably needed to get Cassie on it. As I opened the cab's back door, I added, "I really appreciate the way I can always count on you, Nico. You do know that, right?"

  "Let me guess. Cassie told you how Max yelled at me."

  "Yes, but—"

  I didn't get to finish my sentence. Nico laughed and broke the connection.

  The driver was at least seventy and grizzled to the point of almost appearing a caricature. His day-old growth of gray whiskers and Chicago Cubs cap and gravelly Windy City accent let me further know I had a veteran cabbie behind the wheel, even if we were well over a thousand miles from Wrigley Field. A couple of flips of my finger on my phone, and I had the Bricknell address to Tina's condo. I recited the cross streets for the cabbie.

  The morning drive was expectedly bad, but the driver knew his shortcuts and verbalized all of them around his unlit cigar stub. "Yeah, I gave up smoking these stogies years ago," he said, gravel still in his voice. "Now, I just chew on them."

  I knew I would be pushing at that mental picture all day.

  Despite the traffic snarls and snafus, I finally saw Tina's skyscraper in the distance. Yet the first view I had of her building was not an optimistic one. Several police cars and an ambulance tied up the front street parking spots. I had a bad feeling and again pulled out my phone.

  "Hi, it's Tina. I'm busy having fun or shopping right now. Either way, promise I'll call back if you leave your name and number. And even quicker if you're inviting me to a party." The giggle that ended her voice mail message made me catch my breath. The levity didn't bode well with my reservations.

  No! It had to be a busy morning for her. She was probably driving and couldn't get to the phone. Or on another call and couldn't switch over. Or she could be in a dead zone and her phone hadn't even rung for her to hear. The dead zone thought was enough to send a shiver up my spine. Okay, maybe I needed to quit lying to myself and acknowledge what my gut was screaming to me.

  "Stop the cab. And wait for me. Please."

  "Look, lady, I can't double park with all these cops around."

  I kept my eyes trained on the boys in blue and swirled a finger in the air. "Keep circling the block. I'll jump back in, I promise. I'll pay the extra fare."

  The cabbie's words arm-wrestled their way around the cigar. "Gimme what's already on the meter."

  "But you'll wait for me, right?"

  "Yeah, yeah," he growled, then pulled on the brim of the cap.

  The ambulance pulled away at that moment, but the lights and siren remained off. Several officers were watching as I exited the cab, and I wished I hadn't worn slacks so I could flash a little leg and distract them. Instead, the Fendi and I put on our most confident attitudes and headed for the elegant glass and brass-plated entrance to Tina's condo building. Grandfather always said people perceived whatever one projected, and right now I wanted to project the mien of someone who wasn't expecting the worst. Getting into the lobby was easy, but all further progress stopped at the elevators.

  "Ma'am, do you live here?" asked a man in a dark suit, his badge clipped to his belt and peeking out behind the right flap of his suit jacket. Detectives onsite already. This didn't look good.

  "No, Detective, I'm here to see a friend. We made plans yesterday to meet this morning." Oop! Too much info. Slow down, Laurel, and keep with one sentence answers.

  "And your friend's name?" He poised a pen over his notepad.

  I reminded myself about perception, and flashed my best I'd love to talk, but I'm really in a hurry smile, and said, "Tina, Tina Schroeder."

  His dark gaze hit me like a sudden laser. "Please step over here for a moment." He introduced himself as Detective Roblo and led me to the corner farthest away from the doors and elevators.

  Yep, the worst. Just as I'd feared.

  All the gory details aside, Tina was found about thirty minutes before in the alley behind the building. A probable victim of robbery, according to the detective, but I felt a shiver when he said her throat was cut. Okay, so that was one gory detail. I bit my lip to keep from blurting out how her death was just like the fat man in Italy. I did not want to get into that with Miami law enforcement.

  "Was anything of value taken, Detective?" I had to know.

  "Yeah, the thief grabbed her purse and ran."

  And I was pretty certain the snuffbox was part of this supposed thief's loot.

  "But why kill her? Was she…violated?" I knew my questions were natural, and I wanted to appear absolutely genuine. Well, my grief was, after all. I really had liked Tina.

  The detective put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "No, there was no evidence of anything sexual."

  Which would have been a relief if it didn't make her subsequent murder just so much more unnecessary in a simple snatch-and-run robbery. Still, I was grateful for the information. "Thank you." Tears stung my eyes.

  He took my contact details. Of course, at this point I wasn't sure how long Jack and I would be in Miami, but I told the detective I was leaving after the day's art event and I was in Miami to attend as a representative of the Beacham Foundation. Apparently my grandfather's name still carried enough cachet to offset the mess my father did to it in the greater Miami/Dade area, because the detective raised his eyebrows when I showed my ID, and he quickly waved me on.

  My cabbie, on the other hand, chose the opportunity to move on to greener pastures, since he'd required my green before I'd left the vehicle. One of the uniformed cops called for another cab, and I waited at the curb debating my options. I wasn't sure if I should go on to the event and get in during the confusing early setup or do some nosing around here first.

  A black Lincoln Town Car slid noiselessly to the curb in front of me, and the back door opened. Yes, Jack stepped out. I didn't know whether to let my anger speak over being left earlier, express my gratitude he'd shown up when I was still a lit
tle shaken by the news of Tina, or walk quickly away because I was more than a little apprehensive about where he'd been during the time frame of the murder. Not to mention the serendipitous way he showed up so soon afterward.

  Irritation and apprehension moved to make my decision. "No, thank you. I have a cab coming." Still, this was Jack. He'd had ample opportunities to kill me and leave my body hidden in places it would have never been found. Of course, he wasn't a murderer. However, there were things I needed to say to him, but this was not the time, and a closed car was not the place. At least, not until I had ample opportunity to mull things over. Things like, why did Jack happen by this place right now, and where had he been previously?

  "Laurel, don't be obstinate. Get in."

  "The cab is already on its way. I don't want him to drive all the way down here and have no fare. Cabbies need respect too."

  "In this neighborhood, he'll be quickly dispatched to another fare. Never fear. We have just enough time to get to the Browning event, and I must still charm Melanie into giving you a pass."

  "I'm not—"

  One of the uniformed officers took note of the idling Town Car and interrupted with, "Sir, you're going to have to move along."

  Jack shot me a warning look. "Laurel, we'll discuss this en route."

  I complied. A Beacham was taught never to create a scene unless it was completely necessary. And despite my doubts about Jack's honesty, I couldn't force myself to go against my social training in this instance.

  The buttery soft leather was just as inviting as ever, and Jack offered a cup of coffee from the carafe.

  "Thank you." I'm always amazed when served with a china cup and saucer in any kind of limo. We've become a society of to-go cups and disposable everything.

  "So, why are you here?" Jack asked. "Didn't have your fill of coppers yesterday when the Mercedes was stolen?"

  "Could ask you the same question." I purposely kept my eyes on my coffee as I spoke and only looked up after taking a sip. "Why are you in this neighborhood?"

  "I had a meeting," he said. "You didn't mention anything last evening about taking a jaunt to Bricknell before the art festival."

  "I assumed I would have an opportunity to do so when we met for breakfast, but you apparently had other plans." His face colored when I said that. Interesting. "Didn't think I needed to be informed about your plans, either, Jack? Who did you meet, and did you learn anything new?"

  He muttered something I didn't catch.

  "What was that?"

  "Never mind." He crossed his arms over his lovely Tom Ford jacket. It was new, and Margarite obviously knew his size as well. I could have left it at that…except I couldn't. I was about to add another of my two cents to the situation when Volcano Hawkes sputtered and blew.

  "You simply cannot use any reason, can you, Laurel? We're trying to keep our investigation quiet, then you find whatever state of affairs is the most dangerous to you personally, and that's precisely where you hare off to. Someday, someone isn't going to be there to grab you before it's too late. Someday—"

  "Now, just a minute, bucko!" Where did he get off? "I don't know what you think you know, and maybe you already know everything, but when you picked me up, I was going to meet Tina. You know, Tina, the girl I talked to yesterday. I was trying to meet with her for coffee ahead of heading to the fair. And if you hadn't slipped away at dawn and left me on the boat, you might have been invited too."

  Okay, none of that last bit would have happened, but I had a head of steam and needed enough words to vent it.

  Jack was undaunted. "All the police at the building didn't tip you off that your idea wasn't the safest one you'd ever devised?"

  "There was an ambulance. Someone could have had a heart attack or fallen down the stairs."

  "Police aren't normally called for either of those types of occurrences."

  "My God, you sound like Max." My boss could be insufferable at most times, but his leaps of logic could reach Olympian lengths. No way I could tell Jack about the snuffbox and Tina's connections to it and give him more ammunition to hurl my way. I should have just come clean in the beginning when he could jettison his anger on the fact the snuffbox had once more likely disappeared. As it was, I could only play this out to its logical conclusion.

  "I had no reason to think the activity at the building entrance impacted my seeing Tina in any way. She was the picture of health yesterday, so the ambulance didn't even play into my thoughts." Then the walls of the car started moving in on me, and the gravity of what had happened. I heard my cup and saucer clink onto the floorboard but hadn't realized I'd let go. Instead, I suddenly realized I'd slid down to lie on the leather seat. "If I hadn't gone, I wouldn't know right now that she's dead."

  A second later Jack pulled me to his chest, and all the tears I'd trapped inside my heart broke for freedom. He handed me a handkerchief. Yes, an actual monogrammed hanky, and for a brief instant I lost myself in the incongruous thought of how few I saw anymore with men under sixty.

  Then I bawled. He stroked my hair, moving his hand slowly to my back and soothingly down an arm, a leg, just about any place he could reach. What made me finally stop sobbing was the fear my makeup was likely ruined, and we were mere blocks from the Browning. A mirror confirmed the worst. I'm not shallow. I'm practical.

  Worse, as I panicked and made a quick fix, Jack turned from Mr. Sympathy to a warped version of Henry Higgins. But instead of chastising me on diction, he tried to keep my attention by lecturing in the "for your own safety" vein. When he finally said, "I'm sorry about your friend, but you have to understand you cannot simply wander into—"

  "You know, Jack," I interrupted as I scooted as far away from him as the interior allowed. "A minute ago you were acting like a gentleman." I balled up the hanky and threw it at him. "A real gentleman. You almost fooled me. But an actual gentleman would never have left this morning without me. And if it was absolutely necessary he did, said gentleman would have taken a cab for himself and left me this Town Car."

  "I don't see how that makes any difference."

  Neither did I, but no way I would admit it to him. "That's exactly why you'll never be a gentleman, Mr. Hawkes." I roughly tugged the Fendi near my side, turned my back to Jack, and focused on my mirror. I did sneak a couple of looks at him, but he just crossed his arms and stared pointedly out his side window.

  I salvaged enough of my face until I could get into a bathroom. At the moment, I needed to set my own agenda. A plan guaranteed not to include Mr. Jack "Panties in a Twist" Hawkes. I may not have known who killed Tina, but the art fête would be a good place to ask questions. I owed it to my friend, and equally I owed it to myself to try to find the next link in the quest of the snuffbox. It had been my responsibility to retrieve it in Italy, after all. The entrance of Jack and his major art heist conundrum had no bearing on my original mission.

  Regardless, someone was playing dirty, and if I'd been with Tina this morning, I might have shared her fate. Okay, yes, that thought made me kind of feel like shivering again.

  "Laurel, you're going to have to trust me." Mr. Silence broke his self-imposed détente. Boy, did he pick the wrong time to talk again.

  "Trust you? Trust you? When you take over and decide where I'm going to stay, when I'm going to eat, and when I'm allowed—or not allowed—to leave? Put yourself in my place, Jack. Would you trust me if the roles were reversed? Or would you be just a little concerned that a whole multitude of nefarious people have control-issue tendencies, and I might need to be careful around everyone, including you?"

  "Nefarious."

  "I didn't want to pigeonhole you, so I threw your evil tendencies in with the multitudes."

  He grinned, and I had to slide my hands under my thighs to keep from slapping him. The man kept pushing me. Soon. Soon, when I didn't have a driver as a witness.

  Regardless, I think Jack knew what I was thinking because he leaned closer and pulled at my wrists until he could take both my hands
in one of his. I looked away, and he used his free hand to twist my chin back around to look at him. "I have few nefarious tendencies, but none that need concern you. I simply want to keep you safe, and you tend to do everything in your power to keep me on the verge of a heart attack."

  Whew! I opened my mouth to speak but found a huge lump in my throat instead. I thanked my lucky stars when the Browning filled the view through the windshield. As the car pulled to the curb, I had an out, and my voice returned.

  "I talked earlier to Nico. He has a pass for me. So see what you can find out from Melanie and company, and I'll work any sources I have who show up today."

  "I don't know—"

  "Don't be silly, Jack." I stretched out a foot to the sidewalk as the driver opened my door. "I'll be in public view all day with Nico to watch my back. You'll be in more danger associating with Preying Mantis Melanie."

  "Remain in public view at all times."

  "This is my element, sir." I anchored a hand on one hip and waited for him to join me on the pavement, while hoping he hadn't realized my words were not really an assurance. Couldn't help it. I had to give myself some wiggle room, and lucky for me Jack didn't seem to recognize the evasion for what it truly was.

  "Good." Jack fastened a button on his jacket as he resumed full height. There were going to be a lot more women noticing Mr. Hawkes than the art at the festival. Thank goodness I was immune to his charms.

  The driver closed the door and returned to the front seat. The car glided silently away, making me remember another question I'd forgotten to ask. "Why did you rent the Mercedes anyway? Why didn't Margarite or the captain just send the Town Car for us? Then we would still have our luggage because the driver would have stayed behind when we entered the gallery."