Deadly Dirty Martinis

by Nicole Leiren

  Finally, he relented and opened the door. He gestured to the sofa on the other side of the living room. As I walked by the doorway leading to the rest of the house, I noticed some suitcases sitting in the hallway. Maybe he'd already figured out people were after him.

  Abe sat in the Queen Anne chair opposite the couch. His visage was pale. "What was so urgent? We just had lunch."

  "I solved the puzzle."

  "Oh?"

  My hands shook as I pulled the piece of paper I'd been working on from my back pocket. "I found this not far from Donny's body. It fell out of his hat. I don't know how else to tell you this, so I'll give it to you straight."

  Abe leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. His hands were folded neatly, one on top of the other in his lap. "Direct is always the best approach."

  "I'm pretty sure it's a kill order for you. The Giovanni family wants you dead. And from the suitcases in your hallway, I think you must have figured that out too. Please, Abe, tell me the truth." I hated to beg, but he was leaving me no choice. I'd already tried a range of tactics from pretty please to demanding answers, none of which had worked.

  "I suppose it doesn't matter now. I'll either be dead soon or will be gone from your life."

  Moisture gathered in my eyes at his words. I didn't want either of those scenarios to happen. "We'll come up with other options. We're a team. I can't help you, though, without all the information."

  He opened his eyes and smiled. "I love your enthusiasm and naïve belief that the truth will set you free. Ironically, the truth is what has sent me on the run."

  I repeated the plea I'd made numerous times over the past six months or so. "Tell me."

  Abe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I've already told you about my issues with gambling. What I haven't told you is that one of my dear friends, Billy O'Brien, also loved to gamble. We built up quite a reputation for ourselves. So much so that we were invited to some of the more exclusive—and illegal—gambling events in Chicago. Events hosted by the Giovanni family. I managed to stay even, winning some then losing some, but never lost more than I could cover. Billy wasn't so lucky."

  "What happened to Billy?" My imagination was running away with me. I prayed it wasn't that bad.

  Abe offered a rueful smile. "In high-stakes gambling, rarely do they go after the gambler themselves when they can't pay a debt. They targeted and came after Billy's wife. As I had the fortunate, or unfortunate, depending on how you look at it, luck to be out shopping with her the day they came calling, I had to make a choice."

  Instead of pounding wildly, my heart stopped beating as I waited for Abe to continue. "What did you do?"

  He chuckled. "I put a beatdown on the bruisers Giovanni sent."

  Somewhere deep inside of me, I breathed a sigh of relief that Abe hadn't killed someone. Though he would've done it in defense of someone else, I was still grateful that he hadn't been required to go that far to protect her. "You always protect those you care about. You've told me that from the beginning."

  "Yes. This time, though, beating them up wasn't enough to protect Billy and his wife. I knew things were only going to get worse for them and for me. When the cops showed up and arrested me for assault, I sang like a canary about all I'd learned about the gambling rings and Antonio Giovanni Jr."

  I had an "aha" moment relating back to a conversation Abe and I had after I investigated him in connection to an incident in Danger Cove when I first started working at the tavern. "You testified, and they sealed the records. That's why the student who wrote the blog entry about you could never find out what happened."

  "That's correct."

  Another lightbulb went off. "Wait. Are you in witness protection or something? I mean they had to offer that with you testifying in a mob case."

  He resumed his original position, leaning back, eyes closed, hands folded. "They offered. I refused."

  "Why in the good Lord's name would you do that?"

  He shrugged. "I kind of like the name Abe. Fits me well, don't you think? I decided to put myself in my own protection. I retired and moved as far away from Chicago as you can get without leaving the country. I suppose I could've gone a little farther north since Canada is still at least two hours away, but I'd stopped here for a brief rest and to figure out my next step. I ran into Hope at Veggie Tables. She needed a gardener. I needed a job. So, I stayed."

  Abe exhaled and stood. "But, now I have to move on. Every second I stay here puts the lives of the people I care about in harm's way. That is unacceptable to me." He took steps forward and cupped my cheek with his weathered hand. "I always protect those I care about, Lilly. I've come to care about you, Mandi, and Mr. Montgomery a great deal. I'll miss you."

  The tears escaped despite my best efforts to keep them contained. One more item to add to the list of things I needed to work on. Oy vey, that list was getting long. The lightbulb went off again. Thank goodness that function was still working just fine. "Abe, listen, there is a solution. I don't like it, but it's better than what you're proposing."

  "Lilly, the Giovanni family isn't going to let this go. One of the sons is in prison, and the other is dead because of me."

  I shook my head. "Only one of those statements is true. They didn't know you were here. Freddie invited them to stop in while they were in town. He's a huge fan. It was just dumb luck that Donny recognized you. After the altercation you and Harmony had with Donny, I saw him on the phone. He wrote something down on paper. It had to be the coded message. They hadn't been looking for you."

  "Ah, but they found me nonetheless."

  "I get that, but hopefully you've learned you can't do this on your own. You need to be in the system so law enforcement can be eyes and ears for you. I'm sure they track the movements of the Giovanni family. Call the United States Marshals Service and ask for protection. They offered it once before, they'll offer it again—especially since your life has been threatened."

  Abe sank into the cushions of the couch. I swear he'd aged ten years in the last ten minutes. "I'll still have to leave you and everyone at the tavern."

  I sat down next to him and leaned over, putting my head on his shoulder. "I know, but at least this way I'll know you're safe."

  "And who will watch out for you?"

  The independent woman in me wanted to stand up and proclaim I didn't need anyone to watch out for me. That part of me could be reckless at times as I'd learned. "I have everyone at the tavern. Maybe even my parents will play a bigger part in my life. If I can get my mother out of jail, that is." Freddie was the big unknown in the Team Lilly support system, but I hoped he'd come around—and come back to work. "Tanner even made me download an app, which I lovingly refer to as the stalker app. He knows where I am—well, where my phone is—at any given moment."

  Abe's smile finally reached his eyes, making them twinkle. "Always liked that boy. He protects those he loves, as well."

  Oh, we weren't going with the L word just yet, but Abe had enough on his plate right now so we'd save the debate for another time. Assuming we got a chance for another heart-to-heart. Not wanting to think about how sad Abe's departure would make me, I focused on making sure he was safe. "Call the Marshals, but don't leave without saying good-bye. Promise?"

  "I promise."

  The ride toward home was much slower. As I passed the Ocean View Bed & Breakfast, I heard music. Not rock and roll, more of a slow jam with guitar and some kind of percussion. My curiosity got the best of me again, and I pulled into the parking lot. The sound was coming from the back porch where Harmony and I had spoken the night before—that felt like a lifetime ago now.

  As soon as I walked around to the back, the strong odor I'd smelled yesterday assaulted my senses once again. Seriously, what could that be, and why wasn't it bothering Tommy or Johnny? They were both sitting on chairs, their instruments on their laps. Correction, Tommy's guitar was on his lap. Johnny had some sort of drum in between his legs. It resembled an hourglass, but the t
op was wider than the bottom. "Hi, guys. I heard the music as I was passing by. Thought I'd stop in to listen if you don't mind."

  Johnny looked up and smiled. "It's cool. Have a seat. We're just playing some slow jams. Helps us unwind and relax."

  I took a seat and nodded. "Cool, thanks. I have to ask, though. How come the smell isn't bothering you?"

  Johnny smiled. "Eh, your nose gets used to it. They're still trying to figure out what it is. Bree's been pretty busy with her uncle so hasn't had a lot of time to dedicate to it. Like I said, ya get used to it, so no worries."

  I liked his laid-back approach. Tommy had nodded when I greeted them but otherwise was focused on his guitar and the music he was producing. "Can I ask one more question, and then I promise to be quiet?"

  They both smiled before Johnny answered. "Sure, kid."

  "What kind of drum is that?"

  Tommy used different parts of his hands on various areas of the drum to produce the sounds. "This is a djembe drum. Originally from West Africa, the drum got its name from an old saying that translates to 'everyone gather in peace' and defines the drum's purpose." He shrugged and smiled. "But I just like the sound of it and the fact it's easy to move from place to place."

  At his admission, Tommy chuckled before teasing, "Can we get back to hearing the sound now?"

  I motioned with my fingers to zip my lips indicating my promise to keep quiet and listen. The melody was smooth, and the percussion enhanced the sound perfectly. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to rise above all the troubles and worries of the moment. This wasn't like any of the music they played with the band. This was my kind of music. I might even be able to meditate like Ruby had been trying to teach me if this music was playing in the background.

  The Zen serenity of the moment was broken when I heard an odd noise followed by Tommy swearing. "Son of a… I broke a string."

  I opened my eyes to see him jump up, his face turning red. Definitely no Zen there.

  Johnny appeared unfazed. "Dude, no worries. You've got more."

  Tommy's curls swayed with the fierce nodding of his head. "No, man. I don't. Now I have to go to Seattle to get more."

  Before either Johnny or I could say anything more, Tommy stormed off just like he'd stormed off the other day at the tavern. Maybe instead of Two-Tone Tommy, he should be named Testy-Temper Tommy.

  Once he was out of sight, I turned to Johnny. "What was that all about? Don't you guys keep spare guitar strings around? I'd think as a band that has three guitar players, you'd maintain a backup supply."

  Johnny went back to lightly tapping on his drum. "The strings a guitar player chooses are very personal. The kind Tommy uses is not as common as the rest. He uses pure nickel strings. If he'd stuck around for a half second, I'd have told him that Brock started using them recently. I'm sure he has some Tommy could use. But, whatever, man. It's all cool."

  Hearing this detail about guitar strings made me think more about the murder weapon used to kill Donny. Vernon had only said that strings were the murder weapon. He didn't say what kind. Of course, I hadn't known to ask the question before, but now I did. "Thanks for letting me sit in and listen to your jam session. I really enjoyed the music. Maybe you guys should do an unplugged album. Heck, even I'd buy that one."

  Johnny grinned, and I swore his eyes gleamed with excitement. "Cool idea, kid. Maybe we will."

  "Cool." I waved and headed back to my bike. As soon as I was pedaling back toward town and Hazlitt Heights, I dialed Vernon's number.

  He answered on the third ring. "Hey, Lilly. What's up?"

  "I have an opportunity for you to receive a dozen of your favorite anything from Cinnamon Sugar Bakery." Might as well offer the prize before the challenge.

  He laughed, as he knew how I operated. "What information do you need this time?"

  "You know—if you'd just introduce me to your contacts then I wouldn't have to involve you."

  "Then how would I keep an eye on what you're doing and all of your rogue investigating?"

  The man had a point. "Well, you can't blame a gal for trying. I was wondering if you could find out what kind of guitar strings were used in Donny's murder."

  "The kind you put on guitars. How many kinds are there?"

  I pulled over to the side of the road so I could concentrate and not get hit by a car. That would not be a positive turn for my investigation. "I'm not sure, but there have to be at least two. I learned that today from one of the members of the band. I don't know if it's important or not, but can't hurt, right?"

  There was a small pause before he answered. "I'll see what I can find. You can bring the cinnamon scones by my place this evening. Ruby's going to Seattle to teach a yoga class, so I can enjoy my favorite vice before she gets home to fuss at me."

  Ruby was very health conscious, Vernon not so much, but they formed a nice ying-yang relationship that worked for them. Well, most of the time. "I'll bring half tonight and get you the other half once you deliver the information."

  He laughed for several seconds. "I'd say you've been watching too much television, but I know that's not the case. Fine, I'm good with six scones now and six later. Take care, kiddo, and stay out of trouble."

  On my way home, I stopped by the bakery and picked up the scones plus some extras to give to Tan to take home to his mother and sister. I felt bad about monopolizing his time from the moment he got home on break. I knew they missed him, too.

  Thankfully, no ants or other insects were waiting for me at the door. I stored the baked goods away and checked the clock. I had just enough time to shower, change, and primp before Tan would be here to pick me up.

  My phone buzzed with an incoming call. "Hey, Bree. I was just over at your place a little while ago."

  "Sorry I missed you. Been dealing with Uncle Eddie and his latest antics. Do you think you could stop by later?"

  "I'm going out with Tan tonight. We can stop by before we head to the restaurant."

  "No, I prefer it to be well after dark."

  The way she said it sent the centipedes scurrying along my spine. "Okay, we can stop on our way home after dinner. You're scaring me a little. What's going on?"

  "I found something that I think you'll want to see."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tan arrived precisely at six—no surprise there. He was always punctual. I let out a low whistle when he stepped into my apartment. The jeans molded to his body like they were tailor-made for him. Don't get me started on how great his thighs looked in the dark denim. A white T-shirt peeked out from the top of his dark blue button-up. The shirt heightened the sapphire hue of his eyes, and the combination was nothing short of drool-worthy. Absence not only made the heart grow fonder but also made the yearning more intense. "Not bad, Pretty Boy," I teased with a smile.

  He invaded my personal space, circling me in his warm embrace. He smelled like ocean mist, one of my favorite scents. I really, really needed to get a grip on my reactions to his presence. At least that's what I kept trying to convince myself of. "You know, someday soon you're going to have to see me as more than a pretty face."

  "Oh, but it wasn't your face I was looking at." My cheeky grin was in direct opposition to my attempt at a sultry tone.

  The softness of his lips eased all the rough emotions from the day. All the bad news would still be here when I got home, but for the next hour or so, I wanted to laugh with Tan and pretend we didn't have a care in the world. Tan lifted his head and stepped back but kept his hold on my hands. "You look pretty good yourself."

  I twisted from side to side to highlight the vintage black cotton dress, complete with white piping. The square neckline was held up by wide shoulder straps, and the skirt was a flared A-line. My favorite part though was the empire waist, which was pronounced due to the white accent and helped make me look at least an inch or so taller than I really was. "What? This old thing?"

  Tan laughed and grabbed my coat. "Just because something is vintage," he explained, "doesn't mea
n it's old."

  I grabbed my purse and linked my arm through his. "Smart and handsome. I am one lucky girl."

  An hour later, we were sitting at one of our favorite restaurants, Not For Nuttin'. The East Coast food spoke to my New York soul and reminded me of home. The owner loved to serve dishes that were created in his home city. I'd selected the chicken divan, a casserole served with broccoli and almonds along with a delectable Mornay sauce. Cheese makes everything better. Tan kept it simple and ordered the Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Not exactly New York but close enough to still fit the East Coast requirement. Our dinner had just arrived when Tan's phone buzzed with a text—for the third time. "Is everything alright?"

  His thumbs slid over the screen as he replied. "Yeah, just Ashley wanting to know when I'm going to be home. Mom's riding her pretty hard, and she's looking for an ally, I guess."

  The wave of guilt I'd felt earlier about keeping Tan away from his family crested and crashed into shore. At least I could do something about this. "Why don't we get our order to-go? We'll grab something for your mom and Ashley and watch a movie at your house like you wanted to the other night."

  "You sure?" Tan slid his hand into mine and lifted, placing a gentle kiss on the back. Seriously, a girl could get lost in his eyes and gentle touch.

  "I'm sure. We'll even let Ashley pick the movie."

  Tan laughed as he paid the check. "Let's not get crazy. World War Z is not on my watch list."

  As he stood, my gaze was drawn to the mouthwatering sight of his backside in those jeans. If I'd thought his thighs looked droolicious… My attention was pulled away from the fantasy starting to unfold when I noticed something that connected with an image hanging out in my memory banks. There, on the back pockets of my kinda-boyfriend's tantalizing tushie, were the same symbols we'd seen smudged in the paint on the back of the shed.